Wrong Number

'Would you like me to put my cock between them?'

'I would. I think that might feel very nice.'

'And perhaps I could slide my cock over your clit. Just gently. What do you think?'

'I think I'd like that a lot.'

'And then when I had run the head of my cock up and down between your butterfly flaps and over your clit a few times -- well... many times -- I could position it at the slippery wet entrance to your fuck hole. What do you think?'

'Are you going to put your stiff cock inside me?'

'I might. I'm still thinking about it. I'm still thinking about how it would feel. I'm still thinking about how it would feel to squeeze my way in. How it would feel to slowly bump my way along your warm wet tunnel.'

'Oh, yes!'

'And then, when my cock was deep inside you, and my balls were resting against your arsehole, I'm thinking how it would feel to just pause for a moment or two. Before I begin to pull back out.'

'Oh, yes. But not all the way out.'

'No. Not all the way out. I would pull it out so that just the head of my cock was inside you.'

'And then you would push it all the way back in.'

'I would. All the way. Again and again.'

'And I would feel your balls slapping against my arsehole.'

'You would. Would your arsehole like that?'

'I think it would.'

'Do you think that your arsehole might even like to be fingered while I slide my stiff cock into your warm wet cunt?'

'Oh, yes. I think that it might like that a lot,' Antonia said.

'You're quite a naughty girl, aren't you?' Charlie said.

'I think that I might be,' Antonia told him.

That 'first time', it didn't take either of them very long to reach the point of no return. Despite it being her second orgasm of the evening, Antonia came first. But Charlie was only just behind her.

* * *

The following Monday, Charlie spent the afternoon with a well-known footballer whose 'autobiography' was probably going to be Charlie's next project. The sportsman may have been nimble on the park, but Charlie found him heavy going as he tried to build a bit of an overview of the star's life to date. Even the footballer's agent seemed to recognise that his superstar charge was a bit of a challenge. 'Perhaps I could buy you a glass of Cristal,' he suggested to Charlie once the session was over.

'Thanks,' Charlie said. 'But I have another meeting.'

'Oh. Right. Well... perhaps another time then,' the agent said.

* * *

It was just a short walk to The Black Horse.

'This is a bit early for you,' the barman said, when Charlie presented himself at the bar.

'Yeah. I had a meeting just down the road. It was rather heavy going.'

The barman smiled. 'Ah. So you'll be needing a pint of Pride then?'

Charlie nodded. 'And a straw. Thanks.'

The barman smiled again and selected a clean pint glass.

And then Charlie's phone rang. It was Antonia's number. 'Hello. You're early,' Charlie said.

'Yes. I was just sitting here. Am I interrupting anything?'

'No, no. I'm just about to enjoy a pint. I spent the afternoon interviewing a chap for a possible project, and I seemed to end up doing most of the talking. My tongue feels like a corner of the Sahara Desert.'

'Does the Sahara Desert even have corners?' Antonia asked.

'You know what I mean,' Charlie said.

Antonia laughed. 'Will you have to interview this person again?'

'Many times. If the project goes ahead. Anyway... what are you up to?'

'I'm just having a drink. A long vodka and tonic. And I had an idea.'

'An idea? That sounds dangerous.'

'I thought that it might be quite fun.'

'Well, we know that you do sometimes have some quite fun ideas,' Charlie said. 'What's this one?'

'I found a film,' Antonia said. 'I think that you might quite enjoy it.'

'Oh?'

'It's rather a naughty film. I thought that we could both watch it. You could watch it at your place and I could watch it at my place. And we could talk. What do you think? Would that be fun?'

Charlie had to smile. Of course it would be fun. Well... if the fun that they had had on the previous Saturday night was anything to go by.

As Charlie and Antonia chatted, Charlie scanned the pub. There weren't that many patrons. But then it was quite early. And it was a Monday. There were a few faces that Charlie recognised. And then were a few unfamiliar faces that Charlie assumed were the faces of people who worked in the local shops and offices.

There was also one woman who looked almost out of place. She looked like someone's mum. Fiftyish. Smartly-but-conservatively dressed. Sitting by herself at a table near the window. Nursing a tall, clear-coloured drink. And chatting on her phone. Smiling.

'I think it might be lots of fun,' Charlie said.

And the conservatively-dressed, mumsy woman on the phone nodded. 'Yes. I think so too,' she said. 'I'll send you the details, shall I?'