Good Vibrations

Woman in a dressing gown. Friend romance.

Don’t forget to read part 1 & 2 of this friends to lovers romance first, you can find them here: Stories

Good Vibrations

Friday lunchtime finally came. I’d made it through my first lectures, and in between downed a sickening amount of shots while partying with housemates. I’d made new friends too. Did I party this hard during my first time at university? There had been a lot of late night’s spent studying in the library and ensuring I followed the plan. Still, I couldn’t remember going out, nor drinking until my head exploded and there definitely weren’t guys pinning me against the wall as their kisses brushed my neck.

I was still horny, and I hadn’t heard from George apart from a couple of messages checking in on me. Although I hadn’t spoken to him on the phone, I’d listened to him every morning in my shower while getting myself off. His deep voice had caressed my skin as water had cascaded down my body. Every word he spoke made me ache between my thighs. My wetness had joined with the soapy water, and I’d stroked my clit as he’d talked about some inane topic or played a random quiz. No matter what he spoke about, his voice reached inside me as I’d moaned his name. Phone sex with him would probably kill me, not that we’d ever do that because we were just friends and couldn’t be more. How many times had I reminded myself of that this week?

I recalled the one kiss we’d had when we were seventeen. We were playing truth or dare, and Erin from our class, who’d never hidden how much she fancied him and was jealous of our closeness had dared us to kiss. I don’t know what she expected, maybe that he couldn’t go through with it because of our friendship? I would have noticed her disappointment, but his tongue was in my mouth. He was never one to ignore a dare. I was knee walking drunk and had followed up the kiss by vomiting on his shoes. We hadn’t repeated our moment after that. His reason being, “I only have two pairs of these trainers, and I don’t want them both ruined.”

There was another problem in my first week of university. My housemate, Jamie, had decided that he was going to bed me. He was attractive for an eighteen-year-old. But that was the problem – he was eighteen. Jamie repeatedly called me MILF. He thought he was cute, but I was ready to punch him or show him how good sex with a grown woman could be.

But then again, did I know?

I’d had some mediocre sex before university and then Brian. He was pleasant enough, and he knew his way around my body. But I’d never screamed. I’d never woken up knowing that I craved another fuck with him. He was as efficient in the bedroom as he was with a spreadsheet; he got the job done, but it was all about finishing, rather than the fun you could have on the way.

Since moving into halls, Jamie was always by my side, especially on our night’s out. Was he waiting for me to give him the nod? He’d be waiting a long time. My body wanted George, and it was getting harder to ignore it. I needed to fuck George out of my system with a random guy, but I didn’t want to become the legendary university MILF to do it, and I didn’t want anyone else anyway. Why was everything so complicated?

During my last lecture of the week; Performance Anxiety and Motivation, I considered the teenage kiss again, or rather George’s inability to say no to a dare.  Should I dare him to go on a night out with my housemates? I could sell it as giving him fodder for his radio show and insight into his target audience.

I quickly tapped out a message to him and waited. His reply came in quick.

George: I’ll be at yours for lunch, and then I expect to have the craziest student night there is.

My face flushed bright enough to draw a furrowed brow from my lecturer. But I styled it out by pretending I’d lost my pen and then holding it aloft as if it was a prize. But how was I going to style out a visit from George? If only it were as simple as pretending I’d lost my pen. There was the other, more significant issue, too. We had a friendship that I couldn’t destroy for something as minor as a good fuck that I might be able to get somewhere else. I had to stop craving George or tonight could be the end of the most important relationship in my life.

What was I going to do?

*****

“The thing is,” Jamie started as he thrust a hand through his quiff, “you’re hot as fuck, and I reckon you could teach me a lot. So what do you think? You could come to my room now if you want.”

I was standing in the communal area of our student apartment in just a fluffy dressing gown and a pair of my best knickers. George was due in the next hour, and I needed the time to make a lot of effort so I could look like someone who’d made none at all. Men had no idea what we women put ourselves through.

Jamie gave me a wink from the other side of the room. His back rested against the wall next to his bedroom door. All the bedrooms opened out onto the communal area I shared with two other females and three males. In the short time since we’d moved in, we’d affectionally named the space Grand Central. People were coming and going all the time. In two weeks, there had been more sex in this apartment than I’d had in the last couple of years with Brian. I’d walked in on a couple of pairs doing it on the edge of the kitchen sink on different afternoons. I was jealous, but not enough to go near Jamie.

“I’m alright, Jamie, but thank you for the offer,” I replied with a polite smile. His eyes lingered on me as I opened the fridge and reached for the bottle of wine I’d picked up after my lecture. I needed alcohol-fuelled courage to get me through today.

Jamie cleared his throat, and with a sigh, I turned back. I’d tried tough love. What else could I do? How many requests did he think it would take to convince me?

“You’ll change your mind. Already I’m one of the most wanted guys on campus. We’ve got a year together in this flat. One night you’re going to come home drunk and horny, there will be a knock at my door, and then we will have passionate sex,” he replied. Was I as confident at his age? I wasn’t even that confident now. There was nothing aggressive in the way he shared his tale of the future. It was more hopeful and had a hint of wistfulness.

“No, there won’t be, Jamie,” I replied sternly.

“Yes, there will be, my lovely MILF,” he smiled. I don’t think he realised how much of a dickhead he sounded. He believed it would happen. I couldn’t guarantee it wouldn’t if the level of arousal I was fighting was likely to continue. Imagine if I had come home last week? Thank goodness for George.

“Look there won’t be because, because,” I stuttered at his hopeful face. “Because I have a boyfriend already.”

“And this is the first time you mention it? I don’t believe you. I’ll continue to wait for that knock at my door, my sexy MILF.” He gave me one last smile before heading back into his bedroom.

“He’s coming round in a bit and partying with us tonight,” I shouted to his retreating body.

Why had I wanted to move into halls? I’d wanted to experience university life properly like I’d missed out on the first time. The staff had assured me I would be in an apartment with people nearer my age, but aside from a twenty-six-year-old woman, they were all either eighteen or nineteen.

I unscrewed the wine and took two long swigs, ignoring the nasty sharp taste. It was the cheapest in the off licence.

Maybe I should move, but that would be the whole first-semester rent gone as I’d paid upfront and I’d have to fork out more for somewhere else. There was no point worrying about it now. George was due in an hour. I ticked the jobs off on my finger.

Make-up? Done.

Hair? Done.

But what was I going to wear? I took another swig hoping to clear my hangover and headed back to my room.

Buzz

I froze in my doorway. That couldn’t be George; he was never early. But I couldn’t risk Jamie getting to him before I did. I daren’t imagine his face if Jamie asked if he was fucking the MILF.

I skidded across the lino to the front door and yanked it open. I swallowed noisily. George was in front of me in his night out best. A checked shirt that clung obscenely to his body, smart jeans and brown brogues brought an internal sigh of delight. He was handsome as well as hot, and my sex clenched immediately with expectation.

His gaze trawled from my head to my toes, pausing momentarily at where my dressing gown gaped at my chest. At the heat from his look, sweat beaded my neck.

“Wine already? Bad morning?” He smiled. I wasn’t sure how, but he immediately conveyed his unusual combination of shy cockiness. I heard it when he was on the radio, and face to face he was the same. George was cocky, and he charmed and amused everyone with his boy next door persona, but he had vulnerabilities too, and in groups of people, he often listened because he wasn’t sure what to say. He understood the impact of mental health struggles and had helped his brother through panic attacks brought on from PTSD. He’d been there for me during my most vulnerable moments; when I’d failed my first accountancy exam, when Brian’s parents had embarrassed me at a family party, and the night I found out my mum was having tests for cancer. I’d loved him like a best friend since I was fourteen, but this urge to have inside me while covering my body with kisses and pushing me to climax was different. Was it new or had it always been there, and I’d learnt to ignore it?

More importantly, how did he feel? Was I just Midge, best friend and like a sister. Everything had changed for me, but that didn’t mean it had for him.

“No. It’s not been a bad one,” I replied flustered, heat burning my cheeks when I remembered George’s question. “I, just, you’re early.”

“Yeah, well, it’s the weekend, isn’t it, and I don’t want to waste time faffing at home. Can I come in?” How was his hair bouncy after wearing headphones all morning? I wanted to touch it and run my hands through the strands, but friends didn’t do that. Instead, I beckoned him in and headed for the kettle. He always had a cup of tea around this time. It helped ease his energy after the rush from presenting his morning radio show. “Did I catch you doing something?”

I flushed again, grateful that with my back to him, he couldn’t see the guilty look on my face. I’d listened back to his show while playing with myself in the shower. It had been a great way to ring in my first proper weekend as a student, even if it left me with some conflicted feelings now that he was close.

“Just getting ready,” I replied with forced breeziness, relieved at how long it was taking the kettle to boil. The bubbles and sighs suggested it needed replacing, but I’d realised early on that risking a fire for the price of a kettle was what being a student was all about.  

“What’s the plan for tonight?” George asked. The springs pinged from the direction of the sofa. I didn’t need to turn to know he’d sat on it. His hands probably rested at his knees. I wanted those hands on me, fisting through my hair as he kissed me. I imagined his body towering over mine in bed as his tongue slipped into my mouth. Would we fit together easily? He was nearly a foot and a half taller than me. ‘You’re the same height when you’re lying down’. I’d heard that once, but from who? My thoughts were a distracting jumble of ideas. “Grace. You okay?”

“Huh?” My unrelenting arousal was getting ridiculous. George was my friend, and that was all that mattered. I faked a smile and turned to face him. “Oh yes, a plan for tonight.”

Lots of things happened at once. Jamie’s door squeaked as the wine reacted with my empty stomach. The scream of the kettle sent me into a panic. Were they the catalyst for my desires or an excuse to kiss my friend? In a flash, I straddled George’s thighs. “You need to pretend to be my boyfriend.”

I made the most of his open mouth and kissed him as if my life depended on it. His mouth paused against mine, but any hesitation was brief as his hands stroked my naked thighs beneath my dressing gown. His kiss was hard and fast. I was hungry for him, and my moan echoed between us. His hands climbed higher as I started to grind against him. His cock swelled beneath me. The roughness of his jeans against my barely covered pussy was heavenly friction, and I twisted my hips harder.

A slam came from the direction of Jamie’s door, but we didn’t stop. His tongue massaged mine as he reached around and grabbed my butt cheeks. His fingers dug into my flesh as he pulled me against him. His cock may have been constricted by his jeans, but it rubbed against my clit in a way that had me desperate for more. Shit, I was kissing my best friend, and I wanted him to fuck me.

I pulled back needing to get my breath and my head together.

We sat panting, staring at each other as doors banged and mixtures of Drake and The Weekend played around us. I brushed my thumb across his lower lip while staring into his grey eyes. It was as if they were sparkling. It was the sexiest kiss of my life. I wanted more, but was he playing the part of my boyfriend as I’d asked? His cock was rock hard beneath me, but that couldn’t tell me what was in his heart.

“Well, that happened,” he finally said.

“And?” I said softly, desperately trying to keep hope out of my voice. But my body betrayed me, and I slipped my hand into his hair and ran my fingers through it. The scent of grapefruit seemed to settle between us. I touched his hair again and smiled. Now that I’d finally crossed a barrier, I couldn’t leave him alone.

He squeezed my arse cheek before moving his hands back to my thighs, beneath my dressing gown. His hands were hot against my flesh.

I knew everything there was to know about George and yet sat on the threadbare sofa his thumbs stroking my inner thighs I couldn’t work out what he’d say next. It could be a “we shouldn’t ruin our friendship”, “I don’t like you that way” or “take me to your bedroom” with anything else in between.

“And,” he replied the side of his mouth lifting in a half-smile.

The guy who made a living through his voice had gone quiet. The dirty beat of the music around us pounded through my veins. His thumbs stroked higher. It was a matter of moments before he realised how wet he’d made me.

He stopped short of my knickers. “And I don’t know why you want me to pretend to be your boyfriend as there is no one to pretend to, we’re all alone.”

My mouth had gone dry waiting for the thoughts behind his gaze.

“But I suppose someone could walk in,” he said with a gravelly voice. I clenched my thighs at the thought of someone catching us. The public kiss had been a way to convince Jamie I was out of bounds, but now it had become a game.

“Oh, you like the idea of that, Grace?” He laughed in a voice so deep that I pushed my pelvis forward, rubbing softly against him. “I don’t know what is going on with you and right now I don’t care. I want this.”

With his eyes fixed on mine almost as if he was asking for consent, he slipped his finger through the belt on my dressing gown and pulled. The more undone my belt became, the more sensual his smile. Every movement he made was slow and considered and what could have been a quickie in Grand Central was torture. My heart thumped hard as if every sense was on high alert. I swallowed noisily as the belt came undone and fell to my sides. Even with all we had done this felt like the precipice. If someone walked into Grand Central now, we’d stop and probably never talk about it again. With one move, I would be nearly naked in front of him. But was he willing to take that step and change everything? I licked my lips and squeezed my thighs in an attempt to will him further.

“I want this, George.”

He took a deep breath, his gaze never leaving my eyes, reached up and pushed my soft robe apart. I sat in his lap, my body on display for him. I wanted to moan, yet we’d barely done anything. I ached for his touch.

He was my best friend, and my fantasy.

His gaze dropped down, and he stared in awe at my body. Brazenly I lifted my chest and presented myself to him. My nipples were pert, and my chest flushed. “Fucking hell, Grace. You’re gorgeous,” he said with a gravelly voice. I’d never felt alluring before, but with him, I was a vixen.

Anyone could walk in on us, and I didn’t care. I’d do anything for George to fuck my brains out on this tatty sofa. He dipped his head, never breaking eye contact until his lips covered my nipple. I hissed with pleasure as he sucked and bit at the sensitive flesh. I made soft circular movements with my pelvis against his jeans, trying to get more satisfaction to my pussy.

“Please, more,” I moaned as he lavished my breast with his mouth. Wetness pooled in my knickers as he ran his fingertips down my legs. His nails were sharp against my skin, and I clamped a hand over my mouth to stop crying out.

Even behind my hand, a “oh” of pleasure fell from between my lips. Suddenly George’s hands were everywhere; one massaged the breast that was missing out on his mouth while the other was between my legs. It stroked closer to my pussy. I held it fast scared he might take it away. It was so close to touching me where I needed it.

He leant back to watch me as his thumb brushed my clit on top of my knickers. Before I could respond with more pleading a familiar melody filtered through to my conscious.

It was the ringtone he used for work.

No, please, no.

He paused. I couldn’t blame him. I knew how important his job was to him. His boss rarely called unless it was significant.

“It’s okay, you can answer it,” I said softly, trying to convey that I wasn’t annoyed. Sexually frustrated, but not annoyed.

His features twisted as if he couldn’t decide what to do next. “I’ll leave it,” he said as the tune stopped. “See, all sorted.”

The melody started again. It had to be a serious call.

“It’s okay, really,” I replied with a peck on his lips.

He fished through his pocket as I stood back up and took extra care in retying my dressing gown. I didn’t dare look at him. Maybe he had regrets for the line we’d crossed or perhaps he wasn’t thinking about me at all.

I pretended to tidy up the kitchen, but all I was doing was picking things up and putting them back down again in the same place. I caught George’s end of the conversation, but it gave me no hints to what was happening.

My body hadn’t got the message that playtime was over. My knickers were soaked, and my heart ached as hard as my pussy.

“Bye, boss. I’ll see you soon,” he finished the call.

Don’t drop your shoulders. Don’t you dare look sad, Grace.

I turned to face him, hoping to see some of my disappointment on his face, but he was smiling so hard it would have been infectious if it hadn’t hurt so much.

“They want me to interview Adele. It’s the first interview she’s done in years, and she wanted me! She’s only in town for the next two hours, so it’s now or never,” he beamed as he tidied his hair and pulled his shirt back down. He was gorgeous, and I hated myself for wanting him to stay even though he was about to do the most significant interview of his career.

“I’m so happy for you,” I replied breezily. I looked down to his crotch that hinted at what we’d been up to. “I think I’ve left a wet spot on your, umm, jeans.”

He looked down and back up, and I saw a hint of arousal and conflict in his eyes. It was the only sign that what was affecting me had got to him too. “It’s okay. I’ll get my boss to bring a spare pair to the interview.”

He headed to the door, pausing for a second. “I’ll be in touch as soon as I can be. I’ve got to go and prep. See you, Grace.”

The door slammed, and I was left horny, sad and ready to guzzle the rest of my wine before my night out. Would I hear from him again and if so would it be like nothing had happened between us? What if the sexiest moment in my life was already his biggest mistake?

*****

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Last Night a DJ Saved My Life

Grace wakes up in the home of her favourite radio presenter.

Don’t forget to read part 1 first, you can find it here: Part 1

Last Night a DJ Saved My Life

The bang of a door dragged me from my sleep.

“Oh, God, no,” I grunted. It was like a gang of bikers swinging metal chains were at a rock concert inside my head. I tried to swallow, but my tongue was thick and dry against the roof of my mouth. Please, I need water. Maybe Brian had done the thing he never did and left me a glass.

Suddenly everything came rushing back to me. There was no Brian in my life or job or apartment. Where am I? Had I gone home with the Aussie barman? No, he was gay, I think. I had propositioned him, though. I rubbed my face with my palms. Did I return to university and sleep with an eighteen-year-old? I’d never live it down. Oh shit, they’re going to call me a cougar, or worse. I groaned louder.

Slowly I opened my eyes, scared where I’d find myself in. Crisp cotton bedding that was as soft as a cloud on my hanging head and blinds that hid a window stretching from the ceiling to the floor made me gasp. I was in George’s bed. A safe space. When we were younger, I used to sleep next to him at all the parties, and we were always platonic. But we weren’t young anymore. I eyed the space next to me, but it was untouched. Where had he slept?

On top of the round bedside table was two full glasses of water and paracetamol. George knew me too well. I gulped down the pills and both drinks before flopping my head back on the pillow. I pulled the duvet up to my nose and breathed in the mixture of vanilla and grapefruit. He always smelt so good. Even his scent on the bedding made my headache better.

Snippets of last night returned like a haunting. I’d propositioned the barman and asked George if I could see his cock. For fuck’s sake. I buried my head beneath the covers.

A soft knock came from the door. What time was it? Lectures started today, and uni was a train ride away. I tried to distinguish outside noises to give me a hint at what time of day it might be, but his windows muffled the sounds of London. How many women had slept in this bed, waking up to his warm body beside them? Did he wake them by stroking between their legs and caressing them gently or did he pin their hands above them and lick down their bodies before thrusting inside them? My body seared as he knocked again. Fantasies about your best friend weren’t allowed.

“Come in,” I replied sheepishly from underneath the duvet.

“Only if you’re decent,” he replied. I pulled the duvet back to see what I was wearing. Shit. When did I take my dress off? It had to be in the night. I wouldn’t have done it in front of George. We’d had some boundaries even when we were younger. So why can’t you remember what you did? And why are you hoping he removed it?

I hid back under the duvet now desperate for answers.

“I’ve hidden my decency for now, but I’m going to need answers. Come in.” He strode straight to the windows and pulled back the curtains. Daylight forced its way inside the bedroom, and I sunk deeper into the bed.

“Not feeling your best?” he smirked as the sunshine burnt my retinas.

I peaked out from beneath the duvet and marvelled how good he looked in comparison to my slummy self. His long-sleeved baseball shirt was tight enough to remind me that I’d touched his solid pecs the night before. My gaze travelled down to his jeans that hinted at the package beneath. Oh shit, I talked about his cock. Did I dream about it too?

Why did he have to have such a sexy voice? My colleagues had often talked about his sexy voice. I’d noticed it, but now I wanted him to whisper filthy things in my ear as he pushed inside me. I couldn’t stop staring at his package. Did it move when I was staring at it? Why do I suddenly care about his cock now? Maybe it was because I was dealing with a long term build-up of hornyness or because I was around students who never stopped fucking.  I remembered again the way George said dick. I needed to get laid as soon as possible and not by my best friend.

“Finished staring?” My eyes flipped to his, and I was relieved to find them crinkled in amusement. “What’s going on with you, Grace?”

I paused and took another breath, filling myself with his scent. That only made things worse. I should leave as quickly and politely as possible.

“I think that breaking up with Brian and then surrounding myself with students who shag like rabbits has made me horny as fuck,” I confessed. Don’t stare at his dick again. But it drew me in, and my gaze flicked that way. His package twitched. It definitely twitched that time!

“You told me all about your hornyness last night. I thought that was you in drunk mode.” He sat on the edge of the bed. Was he trying to hide his cock from me by sitting down? Had I stared that much? Nah, we were friends. Midge and Big G. Oh shit, now I’m thinking about his Big G again. “Especially when you tried to barter with me so that you could see my dick.”

“What?” I covered my face in shame and also because he’d repeated the word dick. The heat was coursing through my body.

He eased the duvet back so he could see my face. His grey eyes were dancing. Was I still drunk? Eyes don’t dance. They seemed to sparkle like never before. “You told me that I could undress you if I showed you my, and I’m quoting here, ‘massive, panty-dropping cock’.”

The heat was now between my legs, and I didn’t want it to go. Even with a hangover, I felt alive like never before. My stomach flipped, and my pussy pulsed. I had missed out on so much with Brian, but I didn’t want George really, I couldn’t. But I had to admit that a big part of me, and not just the part that was wet and aching, did.

Why did his voice have to be so deep and seductive? I knew it was his job to entertain millions with his voice as a radio presenter, but this was me trying to hold on to any dignity I still had.

“And did you undress me?” The idea excited me. My heart rose as I imagined his finger slipping inside my dress and undoing the knot that kept the material together. Was his skin against mine as he lifted the hem and cupped my bum. Did he squeeze it briefly to see my reaction? I wanted his hands pushing the material off my shoulders and revealing my breasts hidden by the thin lace material of my bra. I fought the pull to squirm against my knickers.

I fixed him with a gaze. Humour left the room. Why had we never got together? In sixth form he was too busy screwing anything, teachers included, but never me. It was like our friendship was the most important thing to both of us, and we didn’t want to risk it. Then at university, I met Brian, and that was that. But I’d never been attracted to George before, had I?

“Did you undress me, George?” Please say yes. Maybe I’m still drunk because this isn’t me.

“No. I let you do that once I’d left the room. I needed my sleep for work,” he said quietly. His emotion was indistinguishable. I was too old to be having these feelings about my best mate. He was one of the few friends I had, and I couldn’t risk that.

“Phew.” I forced out my laugh. “You weren’t late for work, were you?”

As one of the best radio presenters in London, I knew nothing mattered more to George than his job. He’d reached his dream of being a breakfast radio presenter a couple of years earlier. It was the most coveted show. Only the best got to be breakfast hosts, and he was undoubtedly the best. The only problem was the way it fucked with his life. That was his other reason for hook-ups. Breakfast presenters were famous for being too exhausted for proper relationships. He was up every weekday morning before sunrise. He got invites to the best parties but was too tired to attend them.

“No, I was fine. I did tell my millions of listeners about my night and how my best friend was propositioning me.”

I sat up straight. “Please no, tell you me you didn’t.”

His gaze dropped down. The duvet had fallen, and my bra was showing. In the old days, it would have meant nothing, but there was heat in his eyes. His gaze seared my skin, and I licked my lips in anticipation, holding my sigh tightly. Something had changed between us and I wanted more. My nipples hardened, and he looked at my face before rubbing his hand across the stubble on his chin. What would that stubble feel like between my legs? I wanted him to scratch my thighs as he licked my pussy. I ached at the possibility of his soft lips against my nipples.

The ticking clock brought me to my senses. “Hold on, if you’re just getting home, that means it’s nearly lunchtime.” I jumped up; my blushes already forgotten.

It was Monday, and I had my first lecture in a couple of hours. I couldn’t miss that.

George was silent as I ran around the room. He stared between my legs. I dragged my dress from the floor and briefly glanced in the mirror to see what had caught George’s attention. The pink lace of my knickers was darker at my pussy. Was I that wet? Had George made me wet before?

I threw the dress on and shoved my fingers through my hair as I attempted to detangle the knots. Where were my purse and shoes? George remained frozen on the bed, his legs wide. He watched everything I did with raised eyebrows. I didn’t have time to worry about it, although it would consume me later.

“I guess I’m going to do the walk of shame,” I joked giving one last look to his parted lips as I dashed out the door.

“You wish,” he called back although it seemed like he was on a delay. He was right, though. I wished it more than I wished I had time to get to my halls before the lecture. I wanted to stay in that bed and scream louder than any of his conquests had before. The reality would struggle to live up to my fantasies, but I wanted to give reality a chance and find out for myself.

What the fuck was going on?

Chasing Rainbows

Somebody That I Used to Know

Night at the bar

“Homeless, dumped and fired.  Sorry I took “voluntary redundancy”, i.e. leave, or we’ll fire you because the company can’t afford to keep you or the rest of hundred people we’re offering voluntary redundancy to.

“My life couldn’t get any worse right? Oh yeah, I lost half my friends, and my parents wouldn’t speak to me. I’ve followed my life plan since I was twelve years old. I used my £25 birthday money and opened my first bank account to save for university. Then I watched my best mate, George, who was born on the same day as me, waste all of his birthday money on CDs from HMV and the biggest McDonald’s ever.

“At university, I met my fiancé, ex-fiancé, Brian. We were studying accounting, and it was his ultimate dream to be a wealthy accountant. I was interested in psychology, but that didn’t fit into my long- term plan of comfortable job, married by twenty-five and first child by twenty-eight so I chose accounting. George rolled his eyes when I told him I’d applied to study accounting. He nearly disowned me when I told him that Brian and I were an official couple. “University is about sex and having lots of it,” he’d shouted down the phone as in the background giggling ladies had screamed his name at his sixth party that week. Maybe university life was about sex for lots of people, including George, but I had a plan.

“Over time, my plan got harder to stick to. I didn’t have the wedding ring or baby by twenty-eight, but as Brian said, we were both completing our qualifications to be certified accountants. We were climbing the ladder. “There isn’t time to do everything,” he reminded me at an old school friend’s wedding as we’d watched George avoid the advances of one of the bridesmaids. It was George who’d sat with me when Brian was called into the office late that Saturday. I’d drank a lot of tequila, cried on his shoulder about not loving Brian that much anyway and then he’d held my hair back as I’d chucked up the contents of my stomach behind the marquee. I’d refused to talk about it after that, assuring George that I did love Brian and it must have been the evil drink talking. But he knew me well enough to know when I was honest. I should have done something about it then.

“Instead, I’m thirty-one, Brian and I have decided we don’t love each other and I’ve moved out of his apartment. Our friends have picked sides, even though it was amicable, and my parents aren’t speaking to me because I’ve diverted from the plan and it must be my fault “because Brian is just the best, isn’t he?”. He was sensible, good at saving and had a brilliant job. What more could a woman want?

“Sex! I haven’t had sex in a year, and before then it was mediocre. That’s what a woman wants; incredible, mind-blowing, headboard breaking sex. The sort that makes you scream if you’re a screamer, that makes you take a photo of yourself in the toilets at work because you’re soaking wet, and that makes you stay in bed all day because you need to do it again and again. But that doesn’t exist beyond books. Right?

“And now, thanks to my godfather who is a university chancellor I’m back at university studying Sports Psychology and living in halls. Over the last week, I’ve felt ancient around these freshers. I reckon at least twenty of them have propositioned me, but I’m way too old to sleep with them, aren’t I?”

“That’s great, lovely, but why are you telling me this? I asked if you wanted another glass of wine,” the Aussie bartender, who’d been supplying all I needed to drown my sorrows that night, stated. Glasses clinked together as he tidied up the now quiet bar. It was depressing to be alone in a bar at eleven o’clock on a Sunday evening, but I was too drunk to care. I toyed with the hem of my wrap around summer dress. It hit just above the knee, except when the wind got up, and I flashed anyone lucky enough to be watching. That might explain the come-ons I had today. Maybe if it blew up in front of the bartender, it would turn him on. I contemplated giving him flash as a taster. “Except now I’m cutting you off. No more alcohol for you, in fact, it’s time you went home.”

“You don’t want to have sex with me either?” I slurred before pursing my lips and giving him a wobbly-eyed wink.

His eye roll wasn’t subtle. “I’m gay, and even if I wasn’t, you’re way too drunk. Is there someone I can call to get you home safely?”

Who did I have? Not Brian, not my parents, and hardly any friends. They’d all be in bed getting ready for the Monday morning grind. One name popped into my head, and I slid my phone over to Scott, the bartender with George’s name and number on the screen. Scott’s sleeves rose slightly to show his tattooed forearms.

“Oh, I like those,” I’d whispered before I dropped my head to my arms and let my eyes drift closed. My dark wavy long-bob hid the world from my eyes. I was so tired. It had been a manic couple of months since the worst day of my life, and now it was the end of Freshers week. I was exhausted keeping up with eighteen-year-olds while wondering how my life went so wrong. The chatter from the remaining patrons lulled me to sleep.

The next thing I remembered was the voice of an angel whispering in my ear. “Grace, can you hear me? Wake up, Grace.”

With his soft home counties accent, he called my name a bit louder. I let out a breath that made my full lips vibrate noisily. Then I drifted off and returned to the lovely dream I’d been having about a sexy, straight bartender who held me against the wall with his thick tattooed forearms.

“GRACE!” the angel had turned to a devil and was hollering in my ear.

I lifted my head slightly and side-eyed the devil. A grin spread across my face when the fluffy, brown hair came into view. “George, you’re here. When did you get here?” My enthusiasm was like that of a teenage girl at a pop concert. I turned to the barman. “Aussie dude, meet my friend George. He’s the tallest man in the world. How tall are you, George?”

“The same height I’ve been since school,” he replied with a roll of his eyes. I wasn’t so drunk I didn’t notice. I coughed into the sleeve of my denim jacket. Gross. When did my mouth fumes get so bad? My stomach dropped as I reached for my wine glass. Damn, it was empty.

I remembered I was talking to someone about my bestie. Of course, the hot bartender. “George peaked early. When we were at school people called us Midget and the Giant. Cause I’m 5 foot nothing to his 6 foot 4. Take off your shoes, and I’ll walk around in them like we used to. It will make Aussie Dude laugh. He needs a laugh; he’s had a hard day. This crazy drunk woman has been telling him her life story.” I giggled at myself.

What did they say about men with big shoes? Oh yeah, they had big feet. No, that wasn’t it. Something about their dicks? I side-eyed George’s crotch. It had to be massive. Why didn’t I know, though? He was my school bestie who at parties I’d share a bed with. He was too busy getting with any female with a pulse to look at tiny, yet curvy me. I’d once been in bed pretending to sleep, after my eighteenth birthday, when he’d had sex with some guy’s older sister on the floor. He thought I was asleep, but I could see what was happening through the reflection in the mirror. I’d never told him about that. He’d kneeled against her as she played with her clit, whispering filthy things as he thrust into her. As she’d screamed his name, he’d covered her mouth, probably worried they’d wake me. But it was his eyes tightly closed and teeth clenched as he came that I’d stared at. I’d wanked over that memory a couple of times at university, even after I met Brian.

George was squatting so that he’s grey eyes were level with mine. All my accounting friends had wanted to fuck him at some point, including my very married boss, but he had kept them at bay. From what I could gather, George had semi-regular secret hook-ups that had no connection to his everyday life. And these days if he wasn’t busy working he was busy exercising. He’d decided to do an ironman competition and was working to be at his peak fitness. “Grace, sweetheart, have you been telling the poor guy about your plan?”

At the reminder of the plan, my face fell. Oh no, I was going straight from happy, annoying drunk to maudlin drunk. “I told Scott that I broke the plan. Everything is broken, Georgey Boy.” I liked to call him that sometimes because I knew it annoyed him. It tended to be a drunk thing.

I dropped my head against the bar, not caring about the bang it made as it hit the wood. Surely that should hurt? I caught Scott’s whispers as he caught George up with what I’d told him. George knew most of it, and he’d been the one who’d convinced me to go back to university. Maybe I should take a leaf out of his book and be shagging my way around uni, but they were all so young! They didn’t even know how good Craig David was the first time around or what a pager was. I laughed loudly to myself, but I wasn’t sure why. I was bladdered. I sensed a couple of people looking over, but I ignored them and played with the cord from my burgundy dress instead. The V at my chest wasn’t low enough to be indecent. How low would I have to bend to show George my boobs? Would he even care? I was too horny, and he was my bestie. I flashbacked to him having sex on my floor. If he was as good at it as I remembered when he was eighteen, he must be Cassanova now. Maybe he’d be the one to give me that one-off experience?

“Okay, Grace. I’m not taking you back to uni now. You can stay at mine,” George helped me off the chair. I got a whiff of his hair, it smelt of grapefruit and was damp at the ends. Had I got him out the shower? I must have been horny because instantly I imagined him soaping himself up as the water cascaded down. What was going on in my head?

My feet hit the sticky floor. What had happened to my heels? As I looked up, I found myself staring at George’s chest. I reached out a hand. When did his pecs get so hard? Even his t-shirt couldn’t hide it.

“Damn, George. You’ve been working out.” I stroked a hand down his chest to his abs and giggled when he sucked in a breath.

“Looks like I’m going to have to deal with you the same way I did when we were at sixth form,” he said with a smile. He took my hand in his, and before I had the chance to ask if we were going to dance, he tossed me over his shoulder. “Let’s go, Midge.”

Ah, the sweet version of my nickname from school. “Don’t forget my purse, Big G,” I chuckled. At school, I’d started calling him Big G when he called me Midge. Our mates thought it was because I’d seen his cock, which according to his exes was big, girthy and every woman’s dream. “Or my shoes. And don’t let anyone see my knickers, they’re my favourites, Big G.”

I giggled again.

“Why do you keep laughing?” he replied, popping a hand on my bum to keep my dress down while striding to the door. The heat from his hands caressed my bum. I gave Scott a wave as we headed outside. The rumble of traffic filled the air.

“Because Mr Strong Man, I’ve just realised I’ve never seen the real Big G close up and I’m wondering how big he is. Can I see it tonight? I’m sure he’d cheer me up,” I tried to coo.

He gave my bum a tap, and I covered my mouth to hold back the moan.

“No, Grace, you can’t see my dick tonight. I’m sorry you’re not having the best time at the moment, but I think it will improve. And just so you know, I’ve missed drunk you. You’re always the most innocent, so when you get drunk, it’s even better. I’m glad you’re not with Brian, he didn’t deserve you,” he replied, but I wasn’t listening. There was something in the way he’d tapped my bum and then said dick that made me ache to have him inside me. Would he spank me if I asked nicely?

I don’t know if it was the thought of his dick or just the alcohol, but I must have passed out soon after with his voice repeating the word dick over and over in my head.

His Scent Lingers

“No, you tidy the house. I’ve got to go and buy food for dinner, which I expect I will be making again,” I shout as I slam our front door.

Is this what love means? Unreasonable levels of patience just to get through the day. It’s his friends, Harry and Chris, who are visiting and yet I’m doing all the work. My heels clack against the concrete as I storm down the steps.

It’s not enough that I’ve been to work and back by bus. No one gets the bus in my village except Herbert with the false teeth that fall out every time the bus goes around a corner. It’s like the movie Speed, but with the threat of getting slapped across the face by a pair of gnashers. Then there’s the Karen who I overheard on the phone this morning. She loudly told the caller about her latest wax appointment. Apparently the hair round her “vag”, her words, was as stubborn as her orgasm the other night. She used every toy known to man, including “the one that does both my holes” and still couldn’t get there. What with Herbert and Karen on both my journeys I should be horizontal in a hot bath with a large glass of something red right now.

But we promised Harry and Chris dinner so here I am.

I reach for the handle and offer a silent prayer to no one in particular. He promised he fixed my car today and that was why he hasn’t cooked dinner. If it’s still making that rattling noise I’ll be sneering through a night of social platitudes.

I yank open the door and suddenly I’m hit with his scent. A musky vanilla saturates the inside. With a deep breath I fill my lungs with him. I can taste him on my tongue. My anger flows out of my body and is replaced with something that makes my pulse race. I shiver as my skin tingles. The effect is immediate and so quick it nearly floors me.

Sliding into the driver’s seat I get highlights of our times together. His lips brushing against my neck, his fingertips grazing my inner thighs. Flashes of him tease me as notes of sandalwood and vanilla climb into body easing any remaining tightness in my shoulders. I swallow loudly as I recall the last time we were together; his naked body beneath me as I straddled in him in bed. He’s the perfect stress reliever.

He must have been working on my car all day, maybe he was inside it immediately after his shower. A wisp of memory fools me into thinking he’s sitting beside me. I turn to the passenger seat, but he’s not there. My car radiates with his presence. I start the engine and drive slowly down the road, my thoughts a blur as I head towards the shops.

I regret saying goodbye without kissing him hard enough to leave him thinking of me and what we might do when his friends leave. Why didn’t I stroke him slowly over his jeans or run my hands under his t-shirt? He’s been training a lot recently in preparation for a 10k. His body is tight enough to kiss each ab. The reminder of his endurance when he had me bent over his desk last week sends shivers down my spine.

A trickle of sweat runs down my chest when I remember his hands gripping my hips as he thrust inside me, but I don’t want to open the window to cool down. The air doesn’t deserve the heady smells fanning my lust. The scent of him fuels fantasies of going down on him as he pulls into a layby. His cock in my mouth as the lights from other cars flash by us, strangers oblivious to the agonising need in his eyes as he cums in my mouth.

I slam on my brakes, grateful that no one is behind me. Scrolling through my console I find the name he used when he put his number in my phone a couple of years ago. We met in a club, both of us merry. The number for Sexy Lobster starts ringing and I bite back a smile. The only thing sexy about his lobster costume that night was the body beneath it.

“What now?” he says gruffly, his voice on speaker throughout my car.

“I’m picking you up, meet me outside the house,” I respond without hint of my plans. “I need you in the car with me.”

“It can’t still be broken. There was no noise when I tested it,” he replies, mistaking the reason for my call. “It was the air con. I fixed it.”

I hang up without revealing my intentions.

Without delay I reverse back up the street. I stop so suddenly outside the house that my seatbelt yanks me into my seat. Impatiently I honk the horn.

He strides out, his brows furrowed. I breathe deeply again as he saunters towards the car. He’s only wearing jeans and a t-shirt and yet I’m salivating at the sight of my sexy lobster. I wriggle in my seat, my knickers tight against me reminding me how much I want him inside me. He rolls his eyes when I nod towards the passenger door. Knowing he’s annoyed turns me on more. I want him frustrated and taking me hard.

Thank god I wearing a floaty dress. I had no idea how easy it would make my evening adventure. The soft cotton rests against my naked thighs and I part them slowly while offering him a smile.

He sits down and slams my door. “What-”

I’m kissing him hard before he finishes his question. It’s barely a beat before he responds.  His hands fist my hair as my tongue parts his lips. I’m pulling at his t-shirt desperately dragging him closer. A moan vibrates the back of my throat and my thighs tremble against the leather seat. The gearstick bars my access to him.

Suddenly I pull back. He’s panting hard and his eyes are wide. The last time I caught him wild like this it was at his parent’s house and I surprised him coming out the bathroom. We had sex on the edge of the cabinet while everyone was downstairs playing Christmas games. His brother winked at us when we returned, and the wild look remained on my sexy lobster’s face all night.

I breathe in the lingering smell on his neck. It’s the same smell as the car, but at his natural musk combined with it my guttural moan is released.

“I want you inside me,” I whisper in his ear slipping my hand to his crotch.

His cock twitches against my hand and he licks his lip with the tip of his tongue. “Let’s go inside.”

“No, I want you in the car,” I reply reaching for his hand and sliding it up my thigh. “But not here. I know the best place. Are you up for it?”

I continue to slide his hand higher until it’s against the wetness that has seeped through my knickers. At his barest touch I whimper.

“Fuck yes,” he replies as he dips his hand inside my knickers. “But I get to do what I want with you.”

He fingers me gently, no doubt aware of our neighbour’s security cameras. Will any of them watch it back and enjoy what we’re doing? I’d love to give them a show one night, maybe next time.

His finger moves deeper. “Poppy, I get to do what I want,” he says again adding his thumb to stroke my clit. I can’t deny him anything when he rubs me there, not that I would deny him. His skills, especially with my body, are never ending.

I nod as he takes his finger out and pops it in his mouth. He sucks it hard before pulling it out with a pop. My heart thumps in my chest.

“Come on then, let’s get going. By the way, Harry and Chris cancelled as you left. We have all night.” His grin is broad as he secures his seatbelt.

His musky vanilla scent is everywhere as I speed back down the road.