Guess Who Just Got Back Today

I was oddly flattered to be surrounded by three young men who all keenly wanted to get closer to me. I have always got on with guys and class several as friends. I just struggle to imagine ever having sex with a real life cock.

Hand on heart, the closest I'd ever come was during a relatively recent foursome down in Oxford. My old school chum, Ellie, had instigated an orgy involving her two housemates, one of them male.

I now know that Mark, the male housemate, had been threatened with a fate worse than death should he lay even one finger on me. At the time I thought it was a four-way free-for-all and my gold star was about to become toast any second.

And that was for two nights, not just one.

Bloody Ellie! She has always been able to wind me up!!

Back on the coach I kissed Ritchie on his exceedingly hot forehead. 'I'm not one for change,' I said softly, 'but all three of you top the list if I ever do.'

As throwaway lines go that may seem shallow. But at the time I did actually mean it . . . Even though I wasn't ever likely to relent.

Chapter Two

The party venue was a large hotel in Ilkley; one well geared-up to cope with an influx of the likes of us. We de-coached and were seamlessly ushered into an enormous bar staffed by dozens of good-looking barmen and barmaids.

And I saw her straightaway.

At the risk of being repetitive, Kat is beyond one shadow of a doubt the most beautiful woman I have ever met . . . or ever will meet, for that matter. But that night she excelled. Clad in a slinky silver dress adorned with a squillion or so sequins, exposing acres of gloriously tanned flesh . . .

As an aside, I knew that Kat exercised in a gym for minimally an hour a day, every day. She wasn't so much obsessed as addicted. Miss even one session and she'd go all moody.

Not that she looked moody right then. Trust me: right then, with her flashing tons of utterly irresistible smiles in all directions, there wasn't a more fuckable babe on the planet.

And bloody Craig was all over her!

Don't get me wrong; I like our head of IT. He's clever, open and honest . . . unlike the directors and a lot of other departmental heads. But seeing him crawling over Kat . . .

I'd half a mind to tear out his heart and feed it to rats.

Not that they had rats in Ilkley. Rates and field-mice, but no rats . . .

Gritting my teeth I downed a couple more drinks with my three young admirers then adjourned to the dining room, where Christmas dinner was about to be served.

(As I already said, that establishment was geared-up to cope with the likes of us. Like last year, they wanted to feed us then corral everyone in the ballroom, locking the doors to keep us out of mischief.)

Don't ask me what my meal was like. I'd ordered mushroom soup followed by a beef dinner with all of the trimmings and a sweet to be decided upon. As far as I know they served me a bowl of cold water and half a dead sheep . . . without any trimmings at all.

Yes, ignoring my workmates and their discussion about the uses of a teleporter . . . Colonel Custer at Little Bighorn as the vastly superior enemy closed in, yelling "beam me up, Scotty!" Nelson a fraction before the fatal bullet smashed its way through his spine at Trafalgar. . .

Neil Kinnock, cavorting on the beach before prat-falling into the sea . . .

While those three (admittedly nice) guys prattled on I eyeballed Craig and Kat, wishing him dead and wishing I'd never let her go.

Then a minor miracle occurred. Our at-the-time FD homed in on Craig. Nowadays our FD (known as Ebenezer) is a top guy. The guy he took over from was a total git. And that's putting it mildly.

On the night in question the "old" FD interrupted Craig's lavish attentions and, not even taking in Kat's abundant and openly displayed cleavage, started talking shop.

From my position, perhaps twenty yards away, I couldn't possibly hear what they were saying. I could, however, see that Kat's eyes were glazing over. Knowing her as I did, that meant the discussion could not be IT but was more likely IT with a financial bias.

In other words it was enough to send anyone with any sense into a coma.

And over Christmas dinner too! The FD wasn't just a git; he was an ignorant and rude git.

After about ten minutes Kat excused herself (mostly ignored) and headed off for the Ladies. I couldn't believe they didn't watch her go. That dress was tighter than tight. Her buns were like ripe peaches.

Nobody with more than one brain cell could fail to look at her.

But those two idiots did.

Expanding my viewpoint to tearing out two hearts, almost but not quite missing admiring comments on Uhura's sexy eyelashes, I witnessed Craig and the prat FD leave Kat's table and head off outside. Caring nix for her they were clearly bound for a ciggie break . . . or else they had got to a confidential part of "work talk" and didn't want to be overheard.

Cunts, I thought viciously. You haven't even got the decency to let her know!

By the time Kat returned her table had been cleared, glasses and all. Seeing her shrug in resignation made my heart reach out. And it did something else, too.

It let Fervent Dave off her leash. Recently I'd mostly kept her in chains in my deepest dungeon. Now I released her and locked up Logical Dave instead.

When Kat abandoned her table and followed a minor exodus towards the ballroom I stood up.

'What about your profiteroles?' John wondered.

'You can have them,' I replied. 'You can finish my complimentary wine too, if you want.'

Without a backwards glance I stalked Kat all the way to the ballroom bar. Then, when she didn't seem to sense my presence, I pinched her sexily-sequined bum.

Harassment or what!

Kat, awaiting the attention of a barperson, froze. Then she turned to me, her face thunderous . . .

'Sorry,' said I, 'I couldn't resist.'

Kat gaped a moment before snapping her mouth shut.

'Your butt's too glittery,' I went on, feeling like a fumbling fool. 'And I wanted to attract your attention.'

'You've done that all right,' she said neutrally. Then, suspiciously: 'Have you been drinking?'

'No more than anyone else. And yes, I'll have a Bacardi and coke please. Beer's running right through me.'

Anyone else would have rolled her eyes at that. Kat laughed and ordered me a double.

*****

Beating most of the rush, we found a relatively remote part of the ballroom with Kat taking the cop's position in the corner, where she could see the rest of the room. I initially sat opposite, giving not one toss for the rest of the room, only wanting to see her.

Fuck but she was beautiful. Why was she wasting her time talking to cartoon-faced me!

'I'm sorry about the sexual assault,' I began, referring to her pinched ass.

'Don't worry about it. Ask me, you didn't pinch hard enough.'

'Ask again; I can pinch much harder than that.'

'I know you can. Give me another drink or two and I might think about it.'

Heart exploding from chest time or what? I'd taken my life in my hands making the approach and here we were, friends again already!

A tear ran down my right cheek. Kat pretended not to notice.

'I didn't know you were coming tonight,' she said. 'I'd hoped you might be in Wetherspoons.'

'I was. But I'll bet you were in Keighley. I was in Bingley.'

'So you've moved to Bingley, have you?'

'You mean you haven't tracked me down.'

'I haven't even tried. Well, I did ask that Irish guy who lives in your old place, but I couldn't understand him. I was a bit drunk, though. It wasn't his fault.'

'You went looking for me?'

'Of course I did. I'm footloose but I'm dedicated. And you fobbing me off only fuelled me. The first time I had a gallon of beer I couldn't stop myself from looking.'

That might not have been up there with Romeo and Juliet but it caused tears to run down both of my cheeks. What had I ever done to inspire devotion from the world's most wonderful woman?

And why had I stuck with flipping Philippa?

'It got to six months and I thought you weren't coming back,' I confessed.

'Don't tell me. Then you met someone special.'

Her words blended in with Last Christmas; yes the party was in full swing and all the seasonal faves were blasting out.

'Correct. Then I met Phil.'

Kat's eyes narrowed. 'Would that be Phil as in Philippa from the building society?'

'Yes, it would.'

Kat shook her head and smiled sadly. 'I can't say that I blame you.' Then, before I could say anything more, she swiftly changed the subject.

Chapter Three

For a while Kat regaled me with stories of her travels, most of which were very amusing. And, if she was to be believed, she'd led an almost nun-like existence.

(I now know about her exploits in Vietnam, Cambodia and New Zealand but, for some strange reason, she skimmed over them.)

'And now you're back,' I said when she'd finished. 'There has to be a reason for that, hasn't there?'

'I nearly died when I visited your desk,' Kat replied. 'There's a spotty-faced kid sitting there now.'

Heart still pounding, I got us more drinks then sat down again, closer to her this time.

'I shouldn't have fobbed you off when you emailed,' I began. 'But I'd just made up with Philippa after a big bust-up. The timing wasn't right.'

I saw a flash of something . . . maybe hope . . . in Kat's eyes and my heartbeat doubled.

'What did you fight over?' she asked softly.

'I found her sitting at my kitchen table, in my favourite dressing gown, drinking my best coffee out of my favourite mug and going through my phone.'

'Minor offences,' said Kat, 'apart from that last one. Did she find anything?'

'She saw that video before I did. The one I sent to you.'

'Do you mean that awesome standing threesome DP?' Kat whistled, demonstrating (in her tiny world) the appropriate appreciation. Then, frowning: 'What didn't she like about it?'

'She has this thing about love and loyalty.'

'And you're still spreading it around.'

'Yes; exactly.'

I waited for Kat to ask me if I loved Philippa but she never did. Oh, okay then, I didn't wait; I was busy trying to find an excuse for being single again for two months. That is to say for being single again so long and holding off from her until now.

Why oh why wasn't I on Kat's doorstep ten minutes after Philippa stormed off?

Why had I waited as long as this?

'I had a thing about love and loyalty,' Kat said gently. 'When we were together, I mean.'

Despite everything I laughed. 'We were at it like bunny rabbits all the time we were together. I didn't have spare time to look elsewhere. And neither did you.'

'That's true enough,' Kat replied, 'happy days or what?'

'The best,' I agreed then, heartbeat doubling again, approaching dangerous levels, I edged closer still.

'Do you know the real reason why I couldn't speak to you on the phone when you came back? Why I didn't even dare be in the same room?'

'No.'

'It's because I knew I'd have to do this.'

Without further ado I mashed my mouth against hers. And miracle of miracles, she didn't object in the slightest. Instead she grabbed me like a drowning woman grabbing a lifebelt.

Time ceased to exist.

*****

As Kat says in her own version of this little reunion, the rest of the party passed us by. We did get in a few more drinks but mostly we snogged like horny teenagers. I remember sensing as much as seeing Craig standing nearby and muttering, 'Old acquaintances,' before disappearing into the background blur.

Then we were on the coach, towards the back, still avidly snogging. By that stage plenty of mixed-sex couples were doing much the same thing. And by that I mean largely married couples . . . except not the sort of couples who were currently married to each other.

What happens at the party stays at the party; right?

Kat's recollections of that night are similar to mine but I'm not going to quote her more than I already have. All I'll say is she was cock-on about the tone-deaf buffoon who insisted that he was "The Music Man". I can hear him and his cohorts even now.

"I can play the piccolo, piccolo, piccolo; picco-picco-piccolo, piccolo, piccolo. Picco-picco-piccolo . . ."

Not that I couldn't blank all that out. In fact it was surprisingly easy with Kat's hand sliding up my inner thigh, leaving my nylons and, after caressing that precious strip of bare flesh, gently tugging aside my panties. Meanwhile my hand was doing similar things inside her slinky silver dress . . . albeit in much more cramped conditions.

And no, I didn't give one shit about our reputations. A dozen other couples were engaged in much the same activity. Half the Bingley coach's passengers had switched busses to be fingered or give hand-jobs. Hell, even Ritchie seemed to have pulled . . .

Next thing I knew we were in Bingley, outside of Wetherspoons, which was already closed. The two of us were just about last off the bus and, by the time we made our way to the taxi rank, there was only a queue and no cabs to be seen.

Still thirty yards short of the queue, I saw a taxi approaching and shamelessly flagged it down. In such circumstances the cabbie would usually have ignored me but hey, it was my lucky night, wasn't it? For once the driver recognized me and pulled up beside us. Kat and I piled into the back before anyone in the queue had time to react.

'The Busfeild,' I said, 'and don't spare the horses.'

Guess how we spent the ten minute taxi ride? We spent it by snogging, of course. By then we were in a state of ravenous hunger yet too refined to finger in line of sight of the rear-view mirror.

Well, only just too refined.

*****

Ripping that silver dress off Kat gave Fervent Dave her biggest thrill ever, but pushing her down onto my new double bed came a close second.

'You're Pillow Queen for today,' my mouth said all on its own. 'Don't argue. You just leave everything to me.'

Surprisingly, Kat complied.

Less surprisingly, I feasted on her. And, considering it was a rather late start with alcohol consumed, I took her well. Her cries, moans, groans and entreaties verified that.

Heck, she might have enjoyed herself half as much as I did!

Initially I restricted myself to mouth, lips and tongue, hands and fingers. But then the urge to use my (relatively) new strapless device overcame me. So I had her with that and she relished it, wrapping her limbs around me, her peerless tits rubbing under my flat chest, her groans now grunts, her cries now shrieks and screams.

Trust me; although the sex was better than ever before, I got off even more on being back with her. And it wasn't a conquest sort of a thing, it was a homecoming. We were back where we belonged, in bed together.

Well, more accurately, on bed together.

But sod the grammar police. The past didn't matter anymore. The only thing that mattered was the future.

*****

It was starting to get light outside when I woke, indicating it was around eight in the morning; unless it was a bad weather day, in which case it might be as late as ten.

Kat was already awake, her face streaked with tears.

'What is it?' I asked, alarmed. 'What's the matter?'

'I'm so happy,' she sobbed. 'And I'm so sad too.'

'Why are you sad?'

'Because it's been so great to be with you again . . . and because last night's all I'm getting.'

'You can have as much as you want,' I assured her. 'I'm not going to stiff you after one night. This is me, Dave. I'd never do that to you.'

'Maybe you wouldn't. But I'm lying here in your bed, expecting Philippa to arrive any second. And she doesn't seem to be the tolerant kind.'

It suddenly struck me I'd only told Kat part of the story. Not that I'd been teasing or anything. Kissing had sort of interrupted us. After not being rejected, talking hadn't seemed important anymore.

Time to rectify that!

'Philippa's off the scene,' I said. 'And it's permanent.'

If anything Kat's tears streaked down even faster.

'Honestly,' I assured her. 'You know me: I never tell a lie and I always keep a promise. I promise you that Philippa is out of my life forever.'

Kat rubbed her eyes and asked if there was anyone else.

'There's always someone else,' said I, 'but there's nobody else who's special. And Philippa wasn't half as special as you were in the first place.'

Kat responded by going down on me. Being a considerate mein host, I let her.

Thirty minutes, perhaps even an hour later, she asked what had gone wrong with the special one.

'Margot,' I replied.

'Who is Margot when she's at home?'

'She's an older woman . . .'

Kat by then had recovered from her sobbing fit. 'You and older women,' she observed.

'Takes one to know one,' I said smartly.

'Ouch! I'm not that much older!'

'Do you want me to answer your question or what?'

'Please proceed.'

'Margot's about forty and can be a pain in the arse. You'd like her on sight. She's as unreliable as any woman ever could be but brilliant between the sheets. And, although she's a bit of a bimbo, she's very good company in a pub or restaurant. As I said, you'd like her.'

'So how did she eff off Philippa?'

'Me and Phil had a big row over snooping, right? I wound up telling her to accept me as I was else do one. I also told her that accepting me would cost her the mother of all ass-slappings and a merciless fuck. She chose to accept me and paid the price. That's virtually moments before you came back into the equation. That's why I couldn't dump her. I'd made a sort of promise, you see.'

Kat nodded. 'So where does desirable bimbo Margot fit in?'

At that point I elected to be vague about actual dates. 'Philippa and I muddled along after our first big bust-up. I did even try to cut down on the extracurricular activities. But Margot had been MIA for ages. Then she showed up unexpectedly with a tale of woe. It would have been rude not to fuck her.'

'Don't tell me Philippa walked in on you?' That light of hope was back in Kat's eyes.

'No. she saw the tell-tale evidence instead.'

Kat queried with her ultra-sexy eyebrows.

'Margot tends to rake a girl's back in the heat of the moment. She's raked me so often I don't feel it anymore. Which is all well and good except it takes a while for the claw tracks to fade; and Philippa saw fresh claw tracks.'

'She fell out over something as petty as that?'

'Heated words were exchanged. Trust me, Kat; there's no going back.'

'Trust me, Dave; I only want to go forward.'

Chapter Four

Next time I checked the time it was half past ten. Fortunately . . . or cleverly, seeing as I'd expected to have a mega-hangover after the Xmas party . . . I'd booked Saturday off for once. Being a high-profile programmer, Kat was off anyway.

'Like old times,' she crooned, 'we could stay here all day.' Then, perhaps for the first time taking in her surroundings: 'Where are we, anyway? And who rents out a palace like this?'

'Nobody rents it out,' I said proudly. 'I own it.'

Kat sat abruptly up in bed, her stupendous tits bouncing in a way that would have made millions if well captured on YouTube.

'You fucking own it?' she gasped.

'Yes,' I replied prouder than ever. 'I have a mortgage to contend with, but it's all mine.' Then, being a basically honest girl, I enlarged. 'I've only got six rooms and I'm still working through them like all the guys who are forever painting the Forth Bridge. So far this is the only completed project. It's okay, though, isn't it?'

'It's a palace,' Kat repeated.

'Before you ask,' I said, tactically, 'Philippa never got to sleep in this room. And she never moved in, either. When she stopped over we slept in the single in my spare room. It's sort of overflow-cum-junk room right now.'

Now Kat's eyes gleamed. 'Am I the first in your new bed?'

'Not quite. But it is still very new. And Philippa's never had the pleasure.'