Part 16 - Heat on the sofa
January 19th 2007 11:26
It wasn’t an easy decision, taking Re back to the Ministry instead of his house. In those days a man didn’t go out in public unless he looked like a man, for all I knew Re could have been some sort of lunatic, some sort of crazy, murderous, mindless killer. But when he looked deep into my eyes from behind his thick dark lashes my heart melted. I saw the soul of a person who was desperate for love. I saw someone who needed a hug and some good, honest sex. Re was not a man in woman’s clothing; he was a beautiful creature in need of my warmth and comfort.
Or, conversely, I was a woman in need of his warmth and comfort and some good, honest sex. Either way I was hot and horny, and Re was the best offer I’d had since coming back to the city and leaving behind the modern day cowboys from the other side of the black stump.
We found a comfortable sofa in the tea room and fell onto it, our arms and legs entwined like a shock treatment spider.
I don’t know how we survived the drive back from Woolloomooloo. My heart was racing, I had one hand on the steering wheel and one hand at my neck, holding back the kisses from Re’s soft, glistening lips. I didn’t stop for lights or pedestrians. I didn’t dare, we were both so hot and juicy I was worried that if I stopped driving we’d be totally out of control and get down to it right there in the front seat of my car, in the middle of the night, in the middle of the city.
Had this happened during the day (and don’t think for a minute that I would have had any more control over my hormones if this had occurred at lunch time) how strange we might have looked should the tea lady should have caught us on that sofa, a woman in a black leather bodysuit and a man in full make up and sequins trying to get naked together. The body suit was causing some problems. The zipper ran all the way from collar to crotch, a lot of things can go wrong undoing a zipper that long. Re seemed to have nimble fingers but the enamel on his beautifully manicured nails was chipped once or twice.
“Never mind that,” I said to myself, “we can touch it up in the morning.” I always carried nail polish with me.
Finally I was down to brassiere and knickers and Re was stripped to the waist. He was one surprise after another. His skin was perfect, tight and smooth. There was no body hair, not on his nipples, not under his arms, not below his belly button that I could see. He was an Adonis, ripples and musk, heat and sweat, quite different under his clothes to what he showed the world. Delicious!
He reached his arms behind me and released my breasts then drew back and looked me over.
“Wow!” he exclaimed, “What do you call those?”
I looked down, was he asking me what I called my breasts? “They’re breasts, of course.”
“Yeah, but they’re really weird, they’re enormous and they’re attached to your body. Don’t’ they come off?”
“Of course they don’t come off. What are you talking about?”
“Well my breasts came off when I took my clothes off, naturally I expected you’d be the same.”
I was a little shocked by this, but the raging lust pumping through my blood wasn’t really listening and instead of saying, “Don’t be silly, men and women aren’t the same!” I cupped them together and said, “Do you like them?”
Evidently he did because he lunged forward, mouth wide open, and had his way with them.
We lay down on the sofa, him on top. I could feel the muscles of his back give way to the softness of his buttocks, still no hair, as I pushed down to remove the remainder of his garments. He kissed me on the lips and pressed himself against me, holding me tight as the kiss travelled from my lips, across my cheek and to my ear.
His panting breath seared my skin. In our tight embrace I could feel every lump and bump of his body pushed up against mine.
Something was wrong. Some of the lumps seemed to be in the wrong place. I pushed him back and he stopped kissing me.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, worry and desire mixed on his face.
“This doesn’t seem right,” I said.
“Is it all to fast?” he asked and sat back, resting on the arm of the sofa.
That’s when I saw him fully naked for the first time. I looked down to where his penis should have been, “What the hell do you call that?”
He smiled at me gently and said, “There’s something I have to tell you.”
Or, conversely, I was a woman in need of his warmth and comfort and some good, honest sex. Either way I was hot and horny, and Re was the best offer I’d had since coming back to the city and leaving behind the modern day cowboys from the other side of the black stump.
We found a comfortable sofa in the tea room and fell onto it, our arms and legs entwined like a shock treatment spider.
I don’t know how we survived the drive back from Woolloomooloo. My heart was racing, I had one hand on the steering wheel and one hand at my neck, holding back the kisses from Re’s soft, glistening lips. I didn’t stop for lights or pedestrians. I didn’t dare, we were both so hot and juicy I was worried that if I stopped driving we’d be totally out of control and get down to it right there in the front seat of my car, in the middle of the night, in the middle of the city.
Had this happened during the day (and don’t think for a minute that I would have had any more control over my hormones if this had occurred at lunch time) how strange we might have looked should the tea lady should have caught us on that sofa, a woman in a black leather bodysuit and a man in full make up and sequins trying to get naked together. The body suit was causing some problems. The zipper ran all the way from collar to crotch, a lot of things can go wrong undoing a zipper that long. Re seemed to have nimble fingers but the enamel on his beautifully manicured nails was chipped once or twice.
“Never mind that,” I said to myself, “we can touch it up in the morning.” I always carried nail polish with me.
Finally I was down to brassiere and knickers and Re was stripped to the waist. He was one surprise after another. His skin was perfect, tight and smooth. There was no body hair, not on his nipples, not under his arms, not below his belly button that I could see. He was an Adonis, ripples and musk, heat and sweat, quite different under his clothes to what he showed the world. Delicious!
He reached his arms behind me and released my breasts then drew back and looked me over.
“Wow!” he exclaimed, “What do you call those?”
I looked down, was he asking me what I called my breasts? “They’re breasts, of course.”
“Yeah, but they’re really weird, they’re enormous and they’re attached to your body. Don’t’ they come off?”
“Of course they don’t come off. What are you talking about?”
“Well my breasts came off when I took my clothes off, naturally I expected you’d be the same.”
I was a little shocked by this, but the raging lust pumping through my blood wasn’t really listening and instead of saying, “Don’t be silly, men and women aren’t the same!” I cupped them together and said, “Do you like them?”
Evidently he did because he lunged forward, mouth wide open, and had his way with them.
We lay down on the sofa, him on top. I could feel the muscles of his back give way to the softness of his buttocks, still no hair, as I pushed down to remove the remainder of his garments. He kissed me on the lips and pressed himself against me, holding me tight as the kiss travelled from my lips, across my cheek and to my ear.
His panting breath seared my skin. In our tight embrace I could feel every lump and bump of his body pushed up against mine.
Something was wrong. Some of the lumps seemed to be in the wrong place. I pushed him back and he stopped kissing me.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, worry and desire mixed on his face.
“This doesn’t seem right,” I said.
“Is it all to fast?” he asked and sat back, resting on the arm of the sofa.
That’s when I saw him fully naked for the first time. I looked down to where his penis should have been, “What the hell do you call that?”
He smiled at me gently and said, “There’s something I have to tell you.”
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