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With thanks to my blonde friend, for whom this is written. There are pros and cons to everything. I know that. In the case of taking on a lodger this year, I’ve been able to pay off the mortgage quicker and get in more holidays too. If that were everything, that would be enough in most cases. But there’s other positives, for sure, like having someone to come home to when I’ve been working late. It’s even better that the person can cook. I’d swear I’ve eaten better this year. And, though it kind of hurts my feminist sensibilities to admit it, is sometimes nice just to have a guy around the house. I’m still not sure my mum approves, mind you. “Catherine,” she says (that’s me by the way, I’m Catherine, nice to meet you), “what are boys going to think when you bring them back here and they see all his toys cluttering the place up?” Quite apart from the contradiction that she seems to disapprove of me living with a guy I’m not sleeping with but perfectly happy with premarital sex, it’s the fact she still calls guys I’m dating boys, even though I’m in my 30s, that I find infuriating. Still, if it winds her up, that’s another positive, I guess. There are other pluses mind. Ones that I’m not so ready to admit to to friends, and certainly not my mum. Things like the smell. I’ll confess, the smell of Tony (that’s his name) when he comes in, fresh off one of “his toys”, still dropping in fresh sweat, gets me… Oh god, I’m getting all embarrassed admitting this, but I guess I can say it because it’s just you and me. It gets me wet. Ever since I was a girl, and the boys I would bring home really were boys, the smell “male” has always affected me deeply. My first orgasm, in fact – oh god, why am I telling you this? It wasn’t with a boyfriend, it was after a college rugby match and I’d had to interview members of the winning team. The smell of all these fresh young men, stripped to the waist, Anadolu Yakası Escort dripping in testosterone, got me so wound up I had to sneak off to the loos and relieve myself. I was frantic, mind you. I barely made it into the cubicle! I’d wanked before – even thought I’d had an orgasm – but that afternoon, splayed on the toilet, skirt up, knickers down, the smell of 32 young men soaked in sweat and blood still in my nose, the sight of half of them removing their shirts replaying in my mind…I really learnt what an orgasm was that day. Still that’s a story for another time. So, there were pluses, but there were downsides. My spare room which had previously functioned as a perfect walk in wardrobe, was full of him and his things. And they weren’t confined to his room. The hallway too was full of his toys (mum was right about that), an endless succession of fancy bicycles his job as a bike journalist entitled him to ride about on. And he was a several years younger than me, which lent the arrangement something of the older sister/younger brother vibe, which to extent was kind of true – he was my best friend’s younger brother, which was how it had come to pass that, after chatting at her wedding. I’d offered him somewhere to stay when he moved to Bristol and here we were, nine months later with a mostly agreeable “temporary” arrangement still in place…. So it was that this afternoon I was trying to find a box of seasonal clothes that I’d had to move in to what I grandly called my “loft”, a little roof space accessed through a little hatch in the corner of my room. “Cathy?” I heard Tony shout. I hadn’t heard the front door. “Ungh” I replied, my voice muffled by the torch I was holding in my mouth. “Cathy?” his voice was closer this time, as if he was at my bedroom door. He couldn’t have seen me. All that would have been visible Anadolu Yakası Escort Bayan had he come in would have been my legs, but standing at the doorway, respecting my personal space as he always did, he wouldn’t have seen even that. I was obscured by the wardrobe. “I don’t think she’s here, babe.” Had he got someone with him? “Oh yeah, sweetie, I read it. It got me so hard.” Excuse me? “Yeah, I want to show you. Wait a moment. No, the computer’s on. Yeah, let’s Skype babe. I can show you what you did to me.” What. The. Fuck? He must be on the phone, I reasoned. What was about to happen? “It’s so hot babe. Imagining you like that, sucking that guy as I watch. Hell yeah, it got me so horny. Yeah, I wanked babe. You got me so worked up babe, I had to. I’m sorry. I can show you now.” I dropped the box I was maneuvering and pulled out of the hatch. “No, I’m naked for you babe. Just a second.” There came the familiar sound of a Skype ringtone, then it was answered. I was still clambering off my dresser. “Oh, there you are. Good boy. Oh god, you are hard, aren’t you?” A woman’s voice. With its touch of Londoner about it, it was clearly Tony’s girlfriend Kate. “Touch yourself for me Tony. Grip it. Oh yes.” I froze. What could I do? Things had moved so fast. In seconds my flatmate had come in, stripped naked, turned on his computer, and was clearly in the process of turning on his girlfriend 130 miles away. How did I stop this without it all getting very embarrassing, very quickly? Think, Catherine, think. “You liked that story I wrote you, didn’t you?” “Yes. Very much. ” His voice was shallow, shaking. “Stop wanking. Good.” I couldn’t walk in now, or even shout out. He’d be mortified. “Tony, hun, what if I told you it wasn’t a fantasy? Oh, you like that? You’re twitching.” “Oh fuck babe. Yeah. I’m so hard it hurts.” Escort Anadolu Yakası Could I just stay very still until they were finished? By the sounds of it, it wouldn’t take long. “I really did it, hun, I really sucked him. Like you wanted me to.” “Oh god. Please let me wank babe.” Too right, ‘oh god’. I couldn’t listen to this. A light bulb snapped on in my head; I could sneak out of my room, open the front door, then slam it as if I’d just got in. Brilliant. I began tiptoeing toward the bedroom door. “Okay, rub your cock for me Tony. Show me how much you like the thought of me sucking another man’s cock, honey. He was delicious.” “How did you do it babe? Did you just ask him?” “What? Did I say please Paul, can I suck your cock? No. I didn’t ask hun. I just took it. I wanted that cock.” I was halfway across the hall. I had just another few feet to go and this nightmare/dream would be over. Then I made my mistake. Wanting to make sure I wasn’t seen, I glanced down the hall. Right into Tony’s room. His bed is partly visible from the hallway when the door is open, but not the business end, just the foot of the bed. Sprawled across the bottom of the bed was a sight that first gripped my chest then went for something altogether deeper. Tony’s slim, cycling honed body was clearly visible, the scar on his leg and a tattoo on his hip I knew nothing about. He was naked, completely naked, and apart from his chest and head that were behind the door, I could see everything. Gripped in his left hand was an angry, purple cock; slim, but surprisingly long. His fist was pumping up and down. He looked as if he could blow his load at any moment. Tony was facing his battered Sony laptop, perched atop a small chest of drawers. On its screen a pretty blonde woman I recognised from photos as Kate. She was smiling, her eyes not looking at the camera, but down, clearly enjoying the display in front of her, watching her man working his cock for her so many miles away. “Stop wanking Tony,” she purred, “I don’t want you cumming too soon.” His hand, reluctantly, loosed its grip. The stiff rod pulsed, its purple head danced. I stood, transfixed. A familiar, urgent heat began to radiate inside me. “I got him into my flat Tony.

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