Smoking Hot Ch. 07

He's right, of course he's right, and with what he does with his body weight over my thighs, his hands and his face, his hair brushing over my sensitised skin, I'm not arguing. Not at all.

We're lounging in the bed still, with another excellent whisky -- a cask strength Ardbeg, glass of water on the side. I agree, a teaspoonful opens it up no end, letting the various notes shine out rather than being lost under the alcohol. And Adrian's bare chest is next to mine, my arm rests on his denim-clad thigh, and he's as relaxed as I've ever seen. I could really get used to this, hanging out with him, not having to worry about the sexual tension at all, because the tension's all gone, replaced by open curiosity and discovery.

It's really nice. I get dressed again reluctantly when it's time to head home, though I'm also looking forward to getting home and getting a damn good rogering from Dave! I'm nearly ready when it occurs to me.

"That Dan you saw again -- seen him since at all?"

That quirk of Ade's mouth must be a smile he's hiding. "Aye," he says curtly.

"Uh-huh. Going to see him again?"

A moment as he looks up, to his left, considering lying. Decides against. "Aye. I am."

I don't need to have known the guy twenty years to tell he doesn't want to talk about it because he's terrified of jinxing it. Bless him.

"That's nice. Him not bailing when he saw me that first time was a good sign, I thought."

"Aye, he's got balls. Anyway, that you? Safe home, text us when ye get in. Regards to Dave."

I spend the train journey from London Bridge sexting Dave, who pounces on me the moment I'm through the door, and does a great job of fucking me senseless. For once, I'm relieved to shove a pillow under my arse and lie back for ten minutes, attempting to give his sperm their best possible chance to get to my probably non-existent egg.

Great sex does exist. I try to count my blessings and focus on that.

I kiss Laura goodbye -- a snog, aye, but it's fond more than anything. A friend, with benefits, and man does she have some class benefits! Those grand tits, hanging all the way from her shoulders like a fucking suspension bridge! I couldn't have asked for more in the shoes and stockings line, and that lacy wee thong barely covering her snatch, practically see-through once she got all wet -- hell, that's torture for a man!

Shame Dan's away visiting his folks, or I'd call him down. Ah well, I can think of both their charms while I finish this wee dram and rub one out.

It's nearly midnight when I realise she hasn't texted me.

'You OK, woman?'

There's a quick response. 'Very much. Sorry, just had to let Dave do his duty, and all that.'

'You mean he fucked you senseless'

'One could put it that way.'

'If one were a crude dirty-talking Irish bastard.'

'That great ten inch cock of his. Bet you had no problem taking it all, you were so wet when you left.'

'You know, I've never measured. How do you know, anyway?'

'Saw him in the gents at some shindig. Its a crying shame hes straight.'

'Diddums! Oh, he says it is ten inches and thanks for the compliment and for warming me up.'

'Any time, doll.'

'He says congrats on quitting. Keep it up, I'll see you again soon.'

'Night night. xx'

Haven't seen Dave in a while. He's a sound man. He was working on lighting systems in Laura's first job after uni, and they hit it off. People said it wouldn't last, me among them, at first. Her all smart Home Counties set, him a long-haired Geordie in a leather jacket with twenty keys and tools dangling off his belt. But then I took a think, remembering all the stage shows she worked on in college, doing tech, and he's a bright dude, started with electrical engineering at Bath or Brunel or somewhere, now he's working for Mott. He certified the installation of lights at the new Wembley Stadium, which I think finally convinced her dad Dave could hold down a solid job.

He doesn't talk much unless he wants to, and he's more into the one-on-one socialising. I don't just mean him shagging other women -- they have me over every couple months. Used to be me and Diane, of course. But when we have our gang meet-ups, he usually stays home to do more DIY on their house. Sometimes he pops in, carts her home, but though he's good craic with his deadpan comments, it's also good with just her, so all us lads can flirt outrageously like we always have done.

It's going to be murder, trying not to laugh, the next time she tells all of us we've got no chance with her!