Getting Together

He grabbed me more tightly, wrapping one around my shoulders and working the other down my back. His tongue explored my mouth like he was eager to taste himself inside me; he drove it forwards with a confidence I had never felt from any woman I'd kissed. As our lips were locked together, his cock was urgently grinding into my stomach; his hand found my arse and his middle finger pushed my trousers into my crack.

Just as I was starting to enjoy it -- to feel myself becoming excited by the sensation of being kissed with such dominance and passion by a member of my own gender -- he pulled back, his mouth spattered with our spit and muttered, breathlessly: "Let's fucking do this, Rob! Let's stop messing around!"

He made to unbutton my shirt but I stopped him.

"Upstairs," I commanded. "In my bedroom."

It would have seemed wrong to have done it right there, next to where my son sits when he's watching TV. Where the two of us spend time together, just as we have since he was little.

Bradley looked a little disappointed, like he would have preferred the spontaneity of us doing it together there and then, but he nodded and yanked his underwear and trousers up and we grabbed our glasses and made for the stairs.

Before we climbed up them he leaned forwards as if he wanted kiss me again, but teased me this time by pulling away just as I leaned forwards to receive him.

I smiled at him, wanting more, but he gestured up the stairs.

"Come on, then," he said with an expectant smirk. "Let's get started!"

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Next story: A Man in My Bed

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