Saturday Mornings

She was doing it again, tempting me, or at least trying to with her little routine. She is Helen, our new flatmate of a few weeks, and this is the third Saturday morning since our flatmates-night-in-to-get-to-know-everyone-
better-Friday – Delia’s idea, not mine particularly, as I prefer to take my time before letting people anywhere inside my life.

And now as a result of that soirée, Helen is out there in the living room right now, eating her breakfast while sat on the couch almost directly opposite my door, naked. That in itself isn’t the issue, a rather pleasant thing to endure really, as she is very pleasing to look at, but indulging her in that freedom, was the beginning which led her to starting this, her frequent and casual masturbation sessions on the couch every Saturday morning since. She is out there now, I know she is, I can see her through the keyhole, getting ready to start.

Personally I blame Delia, even if she wasn’t there at the time, it’s her fault because she always does this sort of arrangement thing, invariably crashing and burning early, which meant it was left to me to mop up the evening in her absence. That Friday had been no exception, waiting just long enough to kill two bottles of red, and let the atmosphere evolve beyond just polite and the mundane before waving that half-assed little-girl wave of hers, and going off to bed, not to surface for another twelve or more hours – a champion sleeper is our Delia.

I had been enjoying the conversation up until that point - well listening to them both talk and wax lyrical about all kinds of amusing shite, occasionally adding the odd comment into the mix, as and when required.

Then Delia did her disappearing routine, and I suddenly had to become more active. Helen on her fifth glass of wine, pretty much held up both ends of the conversation for a while, allowing me the grace of a transition period, but eventually levered me into place with: ‘You are pretty easy going, aren’t you. I’d say nothing much would faze you really.’

I’d nodded and pulled one of those speculative faces: ‘Pretty much. And you?’

She laughed in return. ‘Been around I have, seen the ways of others, and don’t shock too easily as a result.’

‘What do you mean?’ I still kept my answers short, hoping to wind the evening down quickly, despite becoming lightly interested.

‘Oh nothing much, but I lived in Germany and Sweden for a while, and I liked their carefree way of doing things – no nudity taboo, for one.’

My smile was forbearing. ‘That must have been a shock, to come back here then, I mean?’

She went off a short way into thought. ‘Oh, not really – folks have changed here too, since then.’

‘Yeah, I know what you’re saying.’

‘What about Delia, she seems okay about most things, but you must know her better. I mean, is she as open as you?’

I looked at her for a second, and came up slightly from my slouch. ‘You asking our permission to walk around naked?’ I topped off our glasses while I was up there.

She laughed again, quite unselfconsciously. ‘Well, I wasn’t specifically thinking of just that – but if it was cool, then I’d certainly like to have that freedom.’

‘Hell, I’m not going to object.’ I shrugged from where I’d returned to my slouch, no mean accomplishment, but necessary to prove a point – because now I felt it was time to see how truly unshockable she was. ‘You could bring yourself off in front of the telly, for all I care. No problems there, not from me – though you’ll have to ask D to be sure of her thinking on…um, that.’

Her smile increased if anything. ‘That’s so sweet.’ Despite myself I must have looked a little confused as she just leant back. ‘You must have heard me, I mean. I need to do it at least six times a day, if not ten. So having such understanding flatmates, would definitely save me having to go into my room each time I fancied a quick play with myself.’

I smiled in return, now I knew she was ribbing me in return. ‘That’s quite a lot.’ I decided to play along. ‘For me three times a day is usually enough.’

‘Yes, but I have a condition – it’s a compulsion apparently, one that leaves me very susceptible to suggestion. Maybe I shouldn’t be saying this just yet, not to my new flatmates, but I even went to a specialist for a while to cure it, but ended up doing it in front of them every time I was there, which sort of negated the point really – they should have been paying me, not the other way around. That doctor was definitely getting off on it, I could see it in her eyes.’ Either Helen was a very good story-creator, or this was really the truth, because now I wasn’t so sure if this was just a bit of verbal sparring anymore.

‘You had your third of the day yet?’ Her change of tack almost caught me out, but I recovered admirably. ‘After dinner there, before you all came in – Kylie was on the telly, and she always does it for me.’ I was still trying to shock in return, but it didn’t seem to be working as well on her.

‘Mmm, I know what you mean, all that barely controlled need to touch herself while on-screen, that gets me going too. Let’s see if I can’t help with making it four today.’

She deftly opened her jeans, moving a hand inside them as she settled, smiling back at me and lifting her top to partially expose a bra-less breast, then covering it with the other hand’s sliding attentions. I’m not such a tit man myself, so my attention stayed between her thighs, and her hand busy there, like in Emmanuelle where just enough of the fingering motion is visible, to make it a truly erotic experience.

So that’s how it happened, I couldn’t believe my luck just then, watching her progressively strip down to naked, and give me the show of my life right there on the sofa, where my mates had sat – this was no sex-film location, but my own place, and that made it so much better. She got her fourth from me that night alright, a fifth also, but we didn’t take it any further, as we both have partners to answer to.

If it had remained at that – a wonderfully memorable, if slightly drunken night, then all would have been fine – just the occasional shared, sly smile in passing, to remind us both of what only we two knew. I thought so until the next morning.

I came out of my room a bit bleary to find her already on the couch, casually naked with legs apart, stroking at herself almost absently with one hand, while eating some bread with the other, and watching TV.

Serendipity had it that Kylie’s song was on the screen again – but it could just have been the nature of hype.

‘Morning – I saw her, so I couldn’t resist. You were right.’ She looked back up to me casually, hand still working away, fingers circling her clit with definite attention.

‘Who, Delia?’ I felt lost.

‘No.’ She nodded at the screen. ‘Care to join me and share your favourite?’

I scratched my head: ‘Ah, no, sorry – already been busy this morning. Did it in bed before getting up, and I’ve got to dash too – but you go ahead and have fun.’

She shrugged. ‘I will.’ And carried on as I went about getting myself ready, finishing her breakfast then laying herself down properly for some serious manipulation. It was most disconcerting seeing her masturbate so casually while I went about my morning preparations, almost as if I wasn’t present – I was fascinated, and needless to say, very hard.

I didn’t see her again until later that night, when she was thankfully clothed and acting more conventionally – I didn’t think I could cope with much more of it without jumping on her, so I was secretly grateful. Maybe she’d had sex with her boyfriend and was now satiated, I didn’t know, or even care just then – my main worry was how could I explain it all to Cy, my partner these past eight months, especially if she strolled in one morning to find Helen jilling away to the cartoons on TV and myself eating breakfast. What sort of monster had my casual dare created?

She couldn’t have broached the subject to Delia yet, as I didn’t see her naked again until the next Saturday morning, and that was Delia’s ritual sleep in time, so she’d not be out of her room before the afternoon sun came a calling through her window.

I’d relaxed enough by that point not to be too fazed by Helen when she walked in wearing just a t-shirt, barely covering her pubes. We chatted politely, just like normal while she went about getting her breakfast and I got myself ready to leave the flat. I should have known though, that things wouldn’t be that simple – coming back into the living room, my eyes were immediately drawn to her lain out on the sofa, with legs open toward me, and sliding two fingers up inside her in an easy rhythm.

Her catching me off guard meant I had no will or protection against the erection that came swiftly to life before her. I saw her eyes focus on it and knew I was sunk.

‘Mmm – good morning to you too – didn’t daddy take care of you yet?’

‘No, not yet – although I will certainly not be long in delaying it, I can tell you.’

‘Why not now?’ She looked at me mock-coy. ‘There’s always time for a quick tug, and I’m sure that what I’m doing will help.’

I had no way out, and didn’t care if I’d be late anyway – who could say no to this? So I pulled him out and sat beside her, slowly moving my hand up and down in time to her own hand’s sliding in and out. She smiled and watched me, focusing on my dick with something like lust. At eighteen centimetres, it was always an attention drawer on the street, which I was never shy of exploiting, preferring to go commando (whatever that means), and giving the ladies something in return for all their tight clothing-displays – most certainly seemed to appreciate my effort.

But in view of the circumstances, I began to worry that she was manipulating not just herself, but the situation and myself as well – I think that she now wanted more than someone to masturbate to. It wasn’t just the mutual buzz anymore, the expression in her eyes said that she’d seen another toy and could think of a far better use for it than currently being demonstrated.

Despite that, I came quickly, as did she – and then she let me escape, offering only a slight smile as she watched me go. ‘Think of me when you go to the bathroom at work.’ She called after me quietly, which of course I did.

So that brings me to now, sitting on my bed on the third Saturday since that night, knowing that she’s out there ready to tease me more and more, until I crack.