Recollections Ch. 05

"Shall we forget the Konstam?"

"Huh. What do you mean?" You asked reluctantly it seemed, breaking the kiss and taking your hand away from my breast, which did, though, continue tingling with arousal.

"I can make a salad or even run to heating up a pizza, why not come to my home for lunch, right now?"

+++++

"Sounds good," I answered, smiling at your eagerness and hoping that meant what I thought it did.

Though for me, this wasn't all about fucking. I enjoyed your company, enjoyed our verbal sparring, and actually wanted to learn more about you. But even I had to admit that, right there and then, fucking you dominated my mind.

Maybe you hadn't expected the aggressive reaction to you lightly rubbing my fingertips against your breast, but it seemed that every sexual tease --words or actions- that you shot in my direction, had an effect that was unfamiliar. They inflamed the feeling of horniness inside me, like someone setting a match to a fire.

One suggestion or gesture resulted in a throbbing that brought an overreaction, it seemed. I'd turn a peck on the lips into a passionate kiss, a brushing of your breast into a full-blown grope and had we not been in public, hell only knew what I'd turn a brief, clothed, grinding into!

The feeling of your braless breast against my hand, your hard nipple against my palm, burned itself into my mind. I almost think I love a woman's breast more than any other part of her, though there are so many delightful alternatives to consider.

The erection that had briefly subsided was back again with a vengeance. The image of your lips around me that had brought me so close to a disaster on the train, returned. The thought of taking you, aggressively, in your bed, on the carpet, or even on top of a fucking wardrobe, jumped around inside my head.

"Sounds good," I repeated, hoping the look in my eyes didn't give the game away, that the bulge in my jeans wasn't too obvious and that the slight breathlessness as I said the words didn't tell you what I was thinking.

Then, images of you walking away from me after finger fucking you in the doorway returned, God knows where from. They made me nervous, uncertain. Part of you did, too. A glorious uncertainty, yes, but they created a hesitancy nevertheless.

You couldn't be the ultimate pricktease, could you?

I'd walk into your house with you, and your mum would be there, with her friends, your friends, and my friends, all shouting, "Surprise!"

Or maybe there'd be a guy there with a big red book. "Today, Alan Taylor, you thought you were visiting London to fuck a young bird's brains out. But today," he continued as the audience of family and friends were to reveal "Today, this is your Life!"

"You okay?" I heard you ask. "Depriving you of your lunch, am I? Don't deny it, I can see it in your eyes. Here I am offering you a salad, when all you can think of is something more substantial, much juicier, that you want to devour. Is that it?"

Those Sammi eyes twinkled at me again. They were saying, why don't you fuck me now, right here, in front of the world. That would be a new experience for you, wouldn't it?

For me, yes, though it wouldn't be the first time I'd had sex out in the open of course. For you, I wasn't so sure. With Sammi, anything was possible! And anyway, I'm sure that wasn't precisely what your eyes were telling me. It was just my horny brain that was suggesting it.

Wasn't it?

"Back to the station," I suggested, attempting to get a grip on reality. "Head for the Underground?"

"Better than heading for the hills," you joked, taking my arm again. "Circle Line, that's where we're headed. Circle Line to Liverpool Street, then we'll change. But don't worry, daddy-o. You won't get lost. I'll look after you."

"Ever fucked on the Underground?" I asked, instantly wondering where the words had come from, and wishing they hadn't. "Sorry, forget that," I mumbled, feeling myself blush. Think of something intelligent to ask instead - some fascinating subject that would impress you with my man-of-the-world knowledge. "Er, what do you think of Boris Johnson?"

Shit! Was I really that stupid??

You gave me that other Sammi look, the one that says, don't be a prick. "What everyone else thinks," you told me. "As for your first question, it might be easier to ask me where I haven't been fucked."

No, I didn't ask the question, though the way my libido was at boiling point, it was a subject I'd have loved to explore.

"We'll be at my house before you know it," you added, as we headed back into the station and down the steps to the Circle Line. "You can get settled first while I whip up something to eat. You'll like your bedroom."

Fuck, there you went again. My bedroom? What about your bedroom, Sammi? Or, our bedroom? What did you mean, my bedroom?

The laugh you gave as you saw my puzzled expression sent another shiver down to my toes. Fuck, Sammi, you couldn't help it, could you? Teasing this previously respectable, well regarded, ex blue chip company Director, pillar of the community... teasing him into a frothing at the mouth, out of control, lascivious... what?

Dirty old man?

Or a young man inside a George Clooney look-alike body (okay, my imagination was running wild) desperate to taste the delights of the young woman who'd gradually invaded my psyche?

One of the things I realised there and then was that I didn't care. More basically, I was an animal circling its prey, heading for the younger females in the herd, not just because they were younger, but because this particular one stood out from the rest.

She could have been much older. She could have been less attractive. But she would still have stood out in the same way.

Okay, you had already dismissed such thoughts as bollocksville. I could accept that. Different generations thought differently. And I was only too aware I was invading the territory of the younger generation. But........, who knows?

Invading your territory I might be, but this animal had separated out a potential female mate from the rest of the herd. And given the opportunity, he was going to take her on a sensual journey to places her fucking younger generation rarely visited.

++

"Would you mind if we got a cab from Loughton Station I asked?"

"No not at all, why?"

"Well it's only a few minutes walk, but we would have to walk past the neighbour's houses and they are very nosy."

"You mean you don't want to be seen with an old man," you said as we whizzed through Buckhurst Hill station.

"Age has nothing to do with it, I don't want to be seen taking a man of any age into mum's house."

"Ok I was only joking."

"Wow, this is impressive," you said as we pulled into the 'in' gate of the front garden.

"The ill gotten gains of a now defunct and probably bankrupt property developer," I said as you paid the scandalous seven ponds fifty fare.

"And this is even more so," you continued as you followed me up the steps to the porch of the unnecessarily large, very Essex, posh suburb almost, but not quite, footballers' wives type of house. I saw the cabbie who I am sure had dropped me off before staring at us. I smiled and waved.

"Yes, ripping off unsuspecting souls by buying property at lower than proper prices, messing it around a bit then selling at a hugely inflated price, brings its rewards. Five or six bedrooms, study, bloody great dining and two other downstairs rooms plus a snooker room, gym, pool complex and a tennis court."

"I take it you don't full approve of your parent's having such a place. It must be worth a fortune in this area."

"Guess so, but dad's finances are all fucked up, so who knows? Who knows really who even owns it? Anyway sod all that?"

"I'm sorry," you said considerately as you slid your arm round me.

"Thank you," I replied letting you pull me into your arms."

You held my face as our bodies molded together. We kissed for the second time today. It felt good, but I didn't think I was ready yet to go further, even though the sensation I felt pressed against my stomach indicated that you was.

"Come on" I said, "Let me show you your room."

The look on your face as I said that for the second time was hilarious. 'He really is beginning to think I'm a PT," I thought as I wiggled out of your embrace.

I showed you the formal dining room overlooking the gardens to the side, the lounge, the conservatory and study and then the pool.

Holding your hand, I said. "Shit I should have told you to bring your cossy, you won't be able to have a swim now."

"No?" You replied in a tone that suggested you would. "I'm all for skinny dipping," you went on."

"Ooooo at your age as well," I replied laughing.

We walked round the garden and looked at the tennis court. "Won't be able to use that either, and we can't do skinny tennis." Here's our little gym," I said showing you into the room at the back of the double garage complete with a couple of machines, weights, a big exercise mat, a bike and rowing machine and a massage table.

"That's interesting," you said.

"Yes where mum gets her relief, I reckon."

"What do you mean?"

"Well she has a PT, personal trainer not what you were thinking, who is also a masseur, who I reckon is giving her one."

We wandered through the garage and back into the house.

"Come on, upstairs," I said leading the way to the staircase.

"Best invitation I've had all day," you said, brushing your hand across my bum.

"Well play your cards right and you may get an even better one later," I said, giggling as

we got to the top of the stairs, your hand still on my bum. I showed you mum's room which was quite spectacular with a massive bed, all white carpet and fittings, a bank of mirrored wardrobes down one side, and floor to ceiling patio doors leading to a balcony on the other.

"And this is where I live," I told you as walked down a corridor to the 'granny flat' built over the garage.

"It's just like a flat you said," as I showed you the small kitchen, a study cum sitting room and of course the bedroom with the ensuite wetroom and the double bed.

Mum and dad had had the place done up for me when I took my A levels to give me more privacy.

"So, where is my room?" You asked.

"We'll see, it just depends how well you behave yourself," I said smiling.

"And how will I know how to behave?" You asked coming over to me and putting your hands on my shoulder.

"Use your instincts," I replied, not moving but looking you right in the eye as you let one hand run down my arm to my elbow, your wrist brushing against my breast.

"How's this?" You asked, gently cupping my boob.

"Not bad, you're learning," I replied gently pressing against your hand.

Still staring into each other eyes I felt your finger and thumb find my nipple and then pinch it.

"And this?"

"Yes, that's good," I breathed feeling a strong rush of arousal. "What's the time?" I asked.

"What?"

"I asked if you had the time?"

You looked at your watch. "Ten past one."

"Thanks."

"Why did you want to know?"

"I was wondering whether it was time for lunch."

"I see, and is it?"

"Maybe," I replied putting my hand on the back yours, which was still on my breast. I pulled it tighter as I said softly. "It could be Alan."

"Really?" You said looking totally confused.

I made my mind up.

"So what would you like, a drink, a cup of tea, some lunch or......" I paused before adding in a croaky whisper. "Me?"