How do I break the news?

I didn’t know HOW I was even going to broach it with them. It’s no exaggeration to say my flatmates had been pretty anal since lockdown had started. I’d get home from work and as I’d step into my bedroom to change out of my potentially infected clothes, they’d be bleaching the door handles behind me. I lowkey LOVED this about them. I didn’t want COVID19 any more than the next person. I was wearing my filtration mask before I left the house and taking it off only after I had gotten home. It had been months since I had felt the touch of another human being and I was aching for ANY human contact. Could I continue with this involuntary celibacy? Sure. Did I want to? Fuck no. But by some WINNING-THE-LOTTERY level of luck, Idris was in the country. For one night. With nowhere to stay. The hotels were all closed. He told me about his cancelled flight and I could not have been more delighted. I decided bribery was the best way to get my housemates on board so I stocked the freezer with ice and hoped the litre of Baileys I provided as a peace offering would be enough to purchase their acceptance (& hopefully unconsciousness) for the evening. Fuck Boris’ ridiculous bubble instruction. It’s just not realistic for young Londoners to be in single person households unless we win the lottery. If I had to risk being fined for having sex then so be it, they could take my money.

Along with seemingly everyone, I felt like I’d gotten significantly more podgy during this lockdown. But this impending unexpected visitor was just the motivation I needed to stop being such a greedy guts and eat a goddamn salad. Also it was just so nice to have something to look forward to rather than the unspecified trudgery of the seemingly endless self-imposed home arrest. As I stepped out of the shower that morning I looked out of the window. It was dark, stormy… quiet. Other than the pattering of the unrelenting yet gentle rain against the concrete outside. I gazed at it slowly puddling as I smoothed body lotion along my limbs; Philosophy Honey Buns. It smelled like freshly baked goods; sweet and comforting. Like one of those classic local bakeries first thing in the morning. I had a new black lace corset I hadn’t worn before and when I fastened the clasps one by one over my hot, sweet skin, I just knew he would love the heady combination. I attached my stockings, zipped up my pencil skirt and tucked in my silky green shirt. He was ubering his way over here despite my insistence that the tube would be faster. I thought about the last time I had seen him a few months earlier. I’d dressed up in a French maid outfit that he was quite taken by. I smiled at the memory and lit a couple of Jo Malone candles; the room swirled with the delicious scents of green tomato leaf and pomegranate noir. Before I knew it, he was outside. The curls were dropping out of my hair in the damp air. It was surprisingly drizzly and cool for a late June afternoon. It had been a while since he’d been to my place and he couldn’t find his way in. I strolled outside and found him looking flummoxed in the next street over with a bag of wine and Doritos in hand.

‘Haha I can’t believe you brought wine, I have loads’ I told him. So much that I had recently repurposed my unused dishwasher as storage for said wine although I refrained from revealing that nugget.

‘Well I didn’t want to turn up empty handed’ he explained as we came through the front door and straight into my bedroom beside it. I eyed him up and felt immediately aroused. He looked ridiculously sexy in his classic shirt and jeans combo. He took off his jacket and draped it over my desk chair. Our kisses were tinged with a nervous excitement and I told him he looked like he had caught the sun, but he revealed he was just feeling flushed, with a sweet chuckle.

‘I need to put the wine in the fridge’ I claimed, whilst in reality I was just trying to prevent myself from ripping his clothes off instantaneously like some kind of nympho. But pandemic induced celibacy will do that to a girl! I brought out the good wine that had been chilling; a gorgeous Venetian variety I’d sampled whilst out there. There was very little wine drunk before my hands were slipping through his thick hair, holding his head, electric kisses taking over. His hands drifted from my lower back and slowly over my hips. I didn’t wait for him to find the zip, I started unbuttoning his shirt then unzipped my pencil skirt, pulling it to the floor. I tossed the silk shirt off over my head and turned back to unwrapping the most delicious gift in front of me. His shirt opened up revealing that gorgeous chest of his. And his ARMS. Omg. If I wasn’t already feeling hot, that certainly would have done it.

I needed him naked immediately.

Before I knew it he had me laid face up on the bed, knees parted whilst he was on his, in between mine. He pulled my damp panties to one side and delicately kissed my wet lips. So gently. He was driving me wild. I sat up and wriggled my knickers off, corset still constraining my upper body, holding up my suspenders. He started kissing my swollen lips again; my ecstasy was palpable and fast. His skill was irresistible and he knew how to make me come over and over. Holding me down with impressive strength as I tried to wriggle away when it was getting super intense. I had to pull him away after the third orgasm or I was going to be spent before we had even gotten started! I kissed him sincerely, his face so hot and wet… like he had gotten me.

He sat on the bed, a low kneel. I laid before him on my back, my legs wide apart. I wrapped them around his body, his cock milimetres from me and I was desperate to feel him stretch me open. I leaned back so my weight was on my arms. He didn’t lean forward. He wanted me to wrap my legs tighter. I pulled one of my arms up around his neck and began to lower myself down onto his erection… so close. At that exact moment the doorbell rang and my housemate rushed to answer the front door (which I should remind you is RIGHT beside my bedroom). FUCKING AMAZON. I’d been waiting for this man for MONTHS I wasn’t waiting any longer, I lowered myself onto his rock hard cock and he slipped in.

Jesus, he felt good.

My eyes rolled back as my body did and he was right on top of me breathing heavily, our sticky bodies grinding away and I was struggling to contain my orgasm almost immediately it was ridiculous. I noticed I’d left my random shower playlist on and Barry White was crooning away and although I adore him, even I thought it was on the cringe scale and hoped Idris wouldn’t notice. It was a flurry of passion and every bit as delicious as I’d anticipated. He always sensed when I was just relaxed enough to slip himself into my ass. Using my ample natural lubrication to tease his way in. I need it slowwww at first and he was very obliging. I could feel every inch of him confidently thrusting in with such delicacy initially, before he had me face down, cheeks pulled wide apart, slapping me hard with such passion and intensity before letting himself come deep inside. I liked that he always announced his orgasm was coming right before it happened so if I wanted his ejaculation anywhere in particular on me I had the opportunity to make that happen. Once we were done I suggested a walk by the river to cool off.

The rain had eased off and it was comfortable now. Dusky with the slosh of the water in the distance as he held my soft hand. I kinda wanted to show I didn’t live in the ghetto as the Uber over here hardly shows my neighbourhood off in the best light. As we circled back I gave him a brief tour of my garden and to my surprise he didn’t find it as boring as everyone else does (or just hid his boredom better). I think it helps that I fed him strawberries straight from the plant by fairy lights I’d lovingly put up just days before.

Refreshed by the cool night air, we got back in and it was just a blur of hot sex interspersed with a LOT of wine. I had to stop and cook myself some salmon at one point because I did not have enough energy to continue without fuel. Fastest salmon ever wolfed down with half the Doritos he brought. That classic Doritos & salmon dish that all the hipster London restaurants will be pushing now that I’ve made it so cool. We laid together just chatting and embracing. He was stroking my hair and I felt rather like a pampered kitty. My dodgy shower playlist was still on & he suggested we switch to Frank Sinatra (I LOVE Sinatra but was concerned he would think my playlist of largely his work was a little old fashioned; clearly I needn’t have). My Funny Valentine started playing and we gently sang along a little. I told him I liked the Chet Baker cover of this song & played it for him. ‘Ooh I like this version’ he enthused & asked me to send him the Spotify link. As I was tapping on my phone copying it into WhatsApp he mentioned he liked the smell of the candle. I wasn’t sure which one it was. I was a little mesmerised by his arms as he was speaking, they were driving me to distraction. Enormously turned me on. Out of nowhere he flicked my nipple. Hard. Again. Again. Until it responded how he liked it. I liked it. More sex. More wine. More conversation. I felt like he was talking much more easily than when we normally met up & it was refreshing to see him so relaxed. He was surprised I could orgasm so easily with him. I was surprised that this surprised him. The more he chatted the easier it was to understand him. He was rubbing my shoulders and I was in absolute bliss. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had a shoulder rub and I’d forgotten how glorious it was. I ended up sharing with him the pregnancy scare I’d had the previous year. With him. I hadn’t planned to ever share it, I’m not even sure how it ended up coming out. He was reassuringly calm but surprised he never knew about it. It felt kind of good to get it off my chest. We must have stayed up till 3am nattering away and fell asleep by the flickering candlelight which burned out shortly after we closed our eyes.

The next morning I felt sexed out. I had nothing left in me. He was utterly unconscious and I noticed how cute he looked while asleep. I got up and brushed my teeth while he dozed before popping to the kitchen to get the kettle on. I returned with cups of tea and we had a nice relaxing slow wake up whilst scrolling on our phones, our bodies gently pressed against each other. Showing each other things we liked on Instagram and stuff. I liked how passionately he spoke against inequality and I saw the comments he posted under charity photos. He asked me about some of the boats we saw while out for last nights walk, and I started gabbing on about maybe buying one someday, as some of them were super cool inside. Next thing I knew we had fallen down a rabbit hole on Rightmove and Apollo duck looking at Dutch barges. I wandered back to the kitchen and shortly after, the aroma of fresh bacon drifted through the flat amongst the rays of morning sunshine. With the bacon nestled hot amongst eggs and toast, I carried the flavour laden plate back to bed, and we enjoyed it slowly with another cuppa before his phone started ringing. ‘Ah it’s only Brian’ he remarked and put the phone down whilst letting his fingertips dance over mine…

‘Answer it’ I said. ‘I’m gonna pop in the shower. Tell Brian I said hi’ I let him finish off my last piece of bacon and I dragged my aching body to the shower for much needed revival which he was laughing heartily with his friend in the background. Mmm the hot water hitting my skin did just the trick. As I stepped out of the shower I heard him hang up the phone. Time to swap! I wrapped my wet body in a thick cream bath towel. In he went. I popped a fresh towel on the radiator for him and left him be. Whilst he was in there I put on some old black jeans and a floaty black top. Suddenly the heat from the shower was making me feel a little queasy. We had drank three bottles of wine last night which was rather unusual for me. It was so hot and sunny this morning; a stark change from the previous evening. He got out of the shower and I handed him the fresh towel and a hairdryer. I couldn’t resist perving on him a little in the bathroom; his skin damp and inviting. Idris is blessed with, amongst other things, a lot of hair. Even more so given the current hairdresser situation. Looked LUSH. I pottered about brushing my hair and fixing my makeup. He was quickly dressed and he looked ridiculously handsome. I decided to take him out of the flat & to a local cafe to get a coffee. It’s a charity place I’m terribly fond of that I thought he would enjoy. As we stepped out of the flat I felt HORRIBLY queasy, the hangover suddenly SMACKED me in the face and I did not feel good. Oh god, I didn’t want to feel unwell in front of him, this was not cool. I had to tell him. ‘I don’t feel so good’ I said. He handed me some chewing gum which helped enormously. A few minutes passed and I felt normal again. Thank God. I gently slipped my arm behind his as we continued strolling to the cafe. It was baking hot inside as we approached & when they asked for my order I could no longer think of anything worse than a hot coffee & plumped for an ice lolly instead: Mango and mint. We went for another river walk with our purchases, this time in the blazing midday sun. A little doggy walked up to us looking to make new friends as we tried looking for the boats we saw before on Rightmove.

We got home, skin warm from the sunshine, bodies still lightly aching from the previous nights antics. I was telling him a story about my colleagues husband and a scar he incurred. ‘I actually got a scar on my chest that exact same way’ he announced.

‘You did?’ I asked, suddenly perked up at having an excuse to ogle his body rather than my usual downright perviness. He unbuttoned his shirt and I enthusiastically but softly ran my fingers across the scar. It wasn’t obvious, rather more subtle than I’d expected. I lingered for a second then remembered, he had a flight to catch. He buttoned his shirt back up and stood tall a few inches from the bed where I remained. I thought I’d at least squeeze in a final goodbye kiss whilst enjoying our last few moments alone. I kneeled upright on the edge of the bed and stretched my arms slowly around his neck, my breasts pressed against his stomach and gave him a farewell kiss. Gentle. Wet. Ultra soft. I pulled away and we locked eyes for a moment. I gave him another super gentle kiss before pulling away and looking into his eyes again, drinking him in for my next bout of abstinence. A slightly longer kiss next with the most delicate glance of my tongue on the tip of his. His belt was pressed against my stomach and in the couple of seconds we kissed I felt the soft mound under the belt turn rock hard. As he became aroused so did I… I felt him swell with that same rush of blood within my body. Instantly. Barely a glance. Hardly a kiss. Instantly. That instantaneous arousal he could generate with just a look, or in this instance, the lightest of kisses. What kind of sexual witchcraft was this? Ridiculous. But he’s goddamn irresistible! I had to have him immediately. ‘This needs to be a quickie’ he said as I was already unbuttoning his jeans. Pretty sure we only took off the bare minimum of clothing required; there was no way my bra made it off. I tossed over a condom to him, got on all fours and within moments he slipped right in so perfectly. He knew to start off gently to let me warm up a little, I was tight from the speed at which we had gone from chatting to fucking but nevertheless, my orgasm arrived quickly. He laid back on the bed panting and I mounted him, my heart still pounding. My BED started making the most obscene squeaking noise it was actually unbearable. His erection started wavering, from the agonising sound or the incessant shagging sessions in the last 12 hours, who knows (!) so I whipped that condom off and took him in my mouth.

‘Want me to stop?’ I decided to check in, in case he wanted something else. ‘Oh no’ he said, and as I pressed my head down forcing him down my throat, he throbbed bigger and harder with every gag. I lapped at his balls and he pulled me up. ‘I think I’m too exhausted for more’ he said. I wasn’t surprised after our marathon session into the early hours of the morning. We kissed and embraced till our heart rates returned back to normal and then we had to pull our clothes back on ready for the flight. We didn’t have time to dawdle. We left the flat, I walked him back to the tube station and kissed him goodbye before returning back to the cafe for round two of the hangover busting ice lollies. I got back to the flat and did NOTHING for the rest of the day; I was EXHAUSTED. That evening my housemate had a question for me: ‘Bianca’ she said seriously. ‘Is Idris on Viagra?’

‘No he’s not on Viagra!’ I explained, laughing HARD.

‘But you had sex four times last night… I thought you said he was a lot older?’

‘Well he is, but he’s not on Viagra!’

‘Well then I’m dating the wrong men!’ She stated abruptly before returning to her room. I chuckled as I texted Idris to tell him what she had said. He also found it hilarious and said: ‘Tell her it’s not Viagra it’s Bovril’ I relayed the message to her and she replied ‘Hmmm, I’ll have to buy some for my boyfriend the next time he’s back in the country…’