I could feel his eyes on me, following me as I moved around the room.

Memories of how we had spent the afternoon, entangled in each other’s sweating bodies; fucking, sucking, biting, slapping, raised a blush on my chest and cheeks as his gaze burned my skin.

No one in the room knew about us. It was our secret. Ours alone. They knew us simply as colleagues, collaborators, teammates.

I watched him sip his wine as he mingled, watched him smile and chat to our friends and associates, knowing that I knew him more intimately than anyone else there. I knew what made him groan with pleasure, what moves rendered him helpless and lost. I knew how to make this dominant, strong, quiet man sink to the floor in exhausted satiety. I knew how the sight, the feel, the taste of me drove him wild, robbed him of speech, made his eyes roll back in his head and his breath catch in his throat.

Our eyes met. My cunt throbbed with want for him. Even though we had played all afternoon, I wanted more. I never had enough. He glanced towards the French doors leading to the hotel garden and his message was clear. Excusing myself, I put down my drink and discretely left the room.

I welcomed the warm summer evening breeze on my skin, which was clammy from the crowded room. The scent of the rose garden filled my head as I walked towards the quiet area, secluded from sight of the conference room.

I felt his presence before he spoke my name, his voice deep and husky, then his lips were on mine, stealing my breath, claiming me as his. He pushed me up against the stone wall as he nuzzled my throat, nipping my skin and pulling my dress down from my shoulder. His mouth moved to my nipple, sucking hard and biting it, rolling it between his teeth. My cunt ached for him and he knew, as his fingers found it, wet and swollen; ready.

Pushing my dress up past my hips, he sank to his knees and buried his face between my thighs, his tongue working on me as his fingers pumped inside me. I closed my eyes, grasped his hair and threw my head back against the wall, blocking out everything but the sensations he was bringing out of me.

As the first flickerings of orgasm built within me, I opened my eyes. Standing slightly outside of the shadows was Simon, who I knew only from passing and saying a quick hello. Tall, well-built, blue eye and with a hint of beard, I had noticed him, but we hadn’t spoken much ever. He was watching us, his eyes focused on me, as he stroked the hard length of cock peeking out from his flies. He smiled at me, and the thrill of being seen, my naked breast hanging out of my dress, my leg hooked over my lover’s shoulder as he lapped and drank from me, pushed me over the edge. I moaned loudly as I lost myself in the surge of pleasure, my knees buckling beneath me. He caught me before I hit the ground, his arms holding me up. His mouth tasted of me as he kissed me again.

Later, as I hovered by the buffet, deciding what to load onto my plate, a voice from behind me whispered in my ear, “You look beautiful when you come, Alice.”


Copyright, 2016,

All rights reserved.




F4TF #30 -To Share or Not To Share

IMG_0490Monogamy – do you think it is our natural inclination?

Are you in a monogamous relationship or do you you live a polyamorous life?

If you are monogamous, is it by choice? Do you find it easy or is it a struggle?

I set the question this week, following another one of mine and KW’s chats, (we really do chat about this, that and everything!).

I don’t actually believe that monogamy is our natural state. Back when the human race was living in constant danger of eminent and early death, be that at the fangs of a sabre tooth tiger or from a range of deadly, untreatable diseases, it made sense to pair up, procreate and remain together to ensure the survival of offspring and keep the genetic line alive.

(Although anthropologists have suggested that women did in fact sleep around much more than we first thought and then settled down with the man who would be the best provider/protector but who was not necessarily the biological father.)

Now that we live for so much longer, it seems perhaps naïve to think we can be satisfied by just one partner for life. I know I have different friends that I can turn to for different needs; there’s the one that’s always fun to be around, the one that seems to just ‘get’ me, the one I can bitch and moan to, the one I can gossip with. So, why do we think we should have just one person who provides everything we need in a sexual relationship? To me it feels restrictive and limiting and is based upon a social construct.

Having said all that, I am in a monogamous marriage. The OH is very aware of my opinion on mono/poly and he can see my point but doesn’t share it. Our compromise? I get to flirt as much as I like but remain faithful. I love him and, at the end of the day, my curiosity about being with other people does not outweigh my feelings for him and for his need to be my one and only. In his own words, he “doesn’t like to share”!

To be honest, I think if I did try to embark on a polyamorous relationship, I would find it very difficult to adjust and cope with feelings of jealousy or insecurity. Perhaps conservative social norms are too embedded in my psyche, perhaps the 13 years of convent education fucked me up, perhaps I am moreso intellectually curious about poly than driven to experience it.

But it works for us – I get to flirt outrageously and he knows he’s the only one who gets to handle the goods!

Each to their own I say – as long as everyone in the relationship, (whether that is a couple or enough people to create a rugby team), are informed, consenting and happy then live and let live and enjoy!


Copyright, 2016,

All rights reserved.


The spark between them was instantaneous.

Neither of them could deny it.

From the very start they both felt as if they had known each other forever.

They laughed at the same things, shared the same political ideas, both thought religion was nonsense and even ordered the same meal as each other off the menu.

They just clicked.

It felt easy.


It was anything but natural.


The first time he kissed me it came as a surprise. I had longed for it but dared not think he wanted the same thing.

We had been walking in the park, throwing stale bread into the lake for the ducks when the rain hit us without warning. I remember I screamed at the sudden downpour and he took my hand in his and we ran to the bandstand for shelter. As we caught our breath, giggling and wiping our wet faces, his hand remained holding mine. We looked down at our entwined fingers and back up and he leaned down and kissed me; the gentlest, sweetest kiss I had ever received. Before I knew it his hands were in my wet hair and his tongue was on mine, our bodies pressed together as if we never wanted to let go.

I felt like I had come home.

Breaking the kiss, he looked at me. Really looked at me.

His eyes scanned my face, a slight frown on his brow, nothing but concern in his eyes, “I’m sorry, was that wrong? That was wrong, wasn’t it?” he whispered. I could smell coffee on his breath.

“Did it feel wrong?” I asked.

“It felt just so right, Nicola. Like… the rightest thing I’ve ever done.”

I giggled, “That’s not even a word!” and whether it was right or not seemed to fade away.


I think I fell in love with her the moment she walked into the café. Her short brown bob framing her face so perfectly, her tentative glance around to find me; then, when she turned those grey blue eyes on me I was done for.

We had been exchanging emails for months, getting to know one another, and had nervously agreed to meet in person. Looking at her, I was terrified and delighted in equal measure. This girl was going to change my life.

After our first kiss that day in the park, we had talked for hours back at my house. It was all I could do to keep my hands off her, but we agreed to take things slowly. We knew this was a dangerous and fragile thing we were embarking on. It needed to be approached properly.

I made her dinner and afterwards we sat on the sofa, her feet on my lap.

“Look at your little toes! God they are cute, what size shoes do you wear Nic?” I’d asked her. She really did have the most delicate, tiny feet I had ever seen on a woman.

“Two. I have to buy them in the kids department, “she giggled and wiggled her toes as I tickled her soles, “Stop!” she squealed and wriggled some more. Her skirt rode up her thighs as she squirmed. I saw her pants, white lace, and froze. The desire to reach out and touch her was overwhelming. Our eyes met. We knew this was a pivotal moment.

She surprised me by parting her legs, providing me with a clear view of the crotch of her pants. I saw they were damp already.

“Are you sure?” I asked her. She nodded. Her breath ragged, her face flushed.

My fingers touched the lace. She gasped. I hooked my finger and pulled the fabric to one side so I could see her. She was smooth, glistening wet and absolutely the most beautiful thing I had ever laid eyes on.


I will never forget the first time he kissed me down there.

He had pulled my pants off and simply admired me for a few minutes, whispering how much he loved what I looked like. His fingers has caressed me and then he dipped his head between my thighs and planted soft butterfly kisses all along my lips, his nose rubbing off my swollen clit. God he was good! He knew what he was doing. I came within minutes, spasming helplessly on his leather sofa, calling out his name. He lifted up and looked deep into my eyes and said, “I love you Nicola,” and kissed me before I had the chance to say it back.


I held her in my arms after we had made love for the first time, my face nestled in her messed up hair, smelling her caramel scented shampoo. I had never felt as complete or as happy as I did then, despite the dark cloud that lingered over us. It needed to be discussed. I looked down at her, her eyes closed in sleep, a light buzzing from her lips which made me smile. It could wait.


I woke up to the smell of coffee and bacon and the sound of him singing along to the radio. He had quite a good voice, doing a decent attempt at the Ed Sheeran song playing. Pulling on a discarded tee shirt of his I walked to the kitchen and secretly watched him for a few minutes before joining in the song. He startled at first but a massive smile broke out over his stubbled face and I felt my heart soar.

We ate breakfast sitting on his patio, watching the birds feed from the wire baskets he had hung on the trees. He was edgy. I knew we were going to talk, but I dreaded it. I didn’t want to allow reality to ruin what we had discovered.

“Nic, we have to talk about this.”

I sighed, “Yes, I know…”

“So, where do we go from here?”

An unexpected flash of anger flared in me and I snapped, “Well, you’re older, you tell me,” and immediately felt foolish for my outburst.

“Yes, I am. It’s pretty standard for a father to be older that his daughter isn’t it?” he was hurt too.

I physically flinched from his words. But they were out there now.

“You don’t feel like my father. When I look at you I don’t see my father. I see Dan. The man I met months ago online, the man I love. My father is back home with my Mum in the house I grew up in,” there were tears in my eyes, “You are not my father!”

“Like it or not, I am. I was a fucking kid. 15 years old and clueless and we couldn’t keep you. But the fact remains. It’s true. I hate it,” his voice cracked but he went on, “I can’t explain this. I didn’t sleep at all last night. I look at you and I don’t feel you are my daughter. I’m in love with you. How can that be?” The despair on his face broke my heart.

I reached out to him. He didn’t resist my touch, but drew me in to lean on his chest. I climbed onto his lap and nestled there as we cried together.

“I can’t lose you. I can’t bear to,” I mumbled between sobs, “No-one has to know. We could make this work.”


Her beautiful eyes filled with tears, but an expression of sheer hope on her face as she looked up at me from my lap. I had no idea what to do, but I knew I couldn’t lose her, not because of a fucking genetic mishap.

Yes she was my daughter, but that was just biology. I hadn’t raised her, hadn’t watched her grow up. This was different. This wasn’t abuse.

I had finally left bed after lying staring at the ceiling all night and gone online. We weren’t the only ones. Genetic sexual attraction they called it. There were Internet forums for god’s sake!

I looked down at her and thought, “She’s right, no one has to know. We can be together and be happy. We can do this.”

I cupped her face in my hands and kissed her, feeling her smile against my lips.



It might be a wee bit tenuous, but I think I can just about manage to link this to Rebel’s prompt, “Identity” this week!

Copyright, 2016,

All rights reserved.


A wide grin spread across his face as he looked down at her, “That’s what I like to see.”

She turned her head and looked back at him over her shoulder, a tress of her chestnut hair falling over one eye and replied, “Fuck off,” before getting up from her hands and knees and adjusting her tailored skirt back down her thighs to her knees.

He raised his palms in a fake, “What?” and winked at her, “Hey, if you insist on teasing me with that fine ass of yours that’s on you.”

“Is it even worth my breath to say the magic words, ‘sexual harassment in the workplace’?” she sighed, but there was a hint of a smile on her lips.

It was always like this between them. She looked at him covertly as she arranged the files she had retrieved from the floor; he was a good-looking guy, still in good shape with a full head of hair and a light beard. Not for the first time she wondered what he looked like without his shirt, a warm feeling in the pit of her belly as she pictured him.

“Oi, who’s sexually harassing who now then?” he winked at her, catching her staring. She cursed under her breath as she felt the pink flush creep up her cheeks.

“You wish!” and walked past him, brushing a little closer than was strictly necessary, to leave the squad room.

Leaning against the sink in the Ladies, she looked at her reflection. “Christ Amanda, what the fuck are you doing? He’s your goddamned boss!” she thought.

From day one, DI James Mitchell had adopted a casual, playful manner with her, alternately provoking her and letting her away with a level of insubordination he would never tolerate from any of the guys in the team. She wondered if she should have made a complaint at the start, but as the newbie she hadn’t wanted to make any waves. And besides, the way he looked at her made her insides flip. She knew he rated her work and was never shy about letting her and others know what good cop she was, just as he wasn’t shy about commenting on her physical attributes. She just wasn’t sure if he would ever follow through on his words…

A loud bang on the door, “Oi! Mandy! Get a move on, we got a call,” his deep baritone from the other side of the door.

“Don’t call me Mandy!” she sighed as she walked past him. He laughed.

Two hours passed. They sat in his car, watching the empty house, waiting for their man to make an appearance. They had talked about colleagues, fiddled with the radio, (she took the piss out of his singing), and played a ridiculous game of ‘I spy’.

“Is this tip off legit? Feels like we’ve been here forever,” she sighed.

“You know the drill. This is the job,” he replied, stifling a yawn, “Anyway, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.”

“What’s that then?” she said, turning to look at him. He remained in profile, looking out the windscreen.

“You’re an ace DS you know, you’re gonna go a long way.”

“Thanks…” she felt unsure of where this was going.

“I just wanted to make sure you knew. Seeing as I’ll be moving on soon,” she saw his Adam’s apple move as he swallowed; it was his ‘tell’ for when he finds something difficult to say.

His words provoked more of a response in her than she could have expected; a sudden urge to cry hit her like a thunderclap, “Move on?” her voice trembled slightly. He still didn’t look at her.

“Yeah… I applied for a transfer across the city and heard today that I got it. Same shit, different desk, you know?”

Feeling a bit stunned and lost she couldn’t stop herself, “But, why? Why move? Is it me? What did I do? I thought you liked working with me!” she willed herself to shut up but couldn’t seem to help herself. She was dangerously close to tears.

“Well it is, in a way, about you,” he finally turned to face her. His jaw was clenched tight, a tiny muscle in his cheek flexed. His eyes were serious.

She waited.

He took a breath, “First off, there was no call. No one’s going to show up here, as far as I know anyway, seeing as this is just a random street I parked on.”

She blinked. “What the…”

“I just needed to find the moment to say this…” she could see he was struggling now.

“Say what!? Christ Jim you’re freaking me the fuck out n…” before she could finish his hands were in her hair and his mouth covered hers, robbing her of breath. After a second of utter shock, she returned his kiss; their tongues hungry for each other, bodies pressed against each other over the gear stick.

Breathlessly he released her, his eyes burning into hers, “Mandy, Jesus, Mandy, I’ve wanted to do that since I first saw you. I was so fucking scared you’d say no,” he whispered, sounding more vulnerable than she had ever heard him before, “I applied for the transfer on the chance that you’d want to start something with me. You know the rules about working on the same team…”

“You did that? For me?” her head was spinning, from his revelation as well as from the kiss.

He grinned, “I figured if I did this and you told me to fuck off I’d be better off across the city anyway.”

“Jim?” she asked.


“You know the way to my place don’t you?”

Grinning even wider, he turned and revved the engine, wheels spinning as he took of at high speed.

“And for the love of God, stop calling me Mandy!”


Copyright, 2016,

All rights reserved.

Bending The Rules

“We said we wouldn’t do this.”

“We said we wouldn’t have sex…” her moss green eyes shone with the thrill of the idea of breaking our own rules, “Don’t you want to see it?”

She shifted slightly on the edge of the bed, her dress riding up her thighs as she parted her legs – a glimpse of milky white against the black of her hold ups and a flash of black lace between her legs. My breath caught in my throat. Of course I wanted to see it; her cunt had been all I had thought about since she walked into the reception, wearing that short black dress, her dark hair piled high in an elegant chignon exposing her long throat and defined shoulders.

She smiled, her expression a mixture of coy and brazen that only she could pull off as she pulled her dress up further to reveal her tiny black lace pants. I stirred in my chair, unsure whether to stop her or just go with the flow.

“Tell me… tell me to stop?” she whispered.

I swallowed, remained silent.

Slowly her fingers slipped under the crotch of her pants as she spread her legs wider. She pulled the delicate fabric to one side, revealing herself to me. Beautiful. Her lips were completely bare, pink and inviting, glistening with her arousal. I was transfixed. Her fingers explored her folds, dark-painted short fingernails slipping over her gradually swelling clit. I felt my cock harden as I sat watching her. I wanted more.

“Take them off…” my voice was a growl deep in my throat. She wriggled out of the pants and threw them towards me, giggling. I caught them easily and pressed them to my nose, breathing in her scent; musky, sweet, heady.

Her breathing grew faster as she sat opposite me, her legs as wide as she could spread them, playing with herself for my pleasure; her own growing pleasure clearly evident.

“Do you want to taste?” her eyes locked onto mine, a hint of challenge in them. I didn’t need to be asked a second time. I dropped to my knees and buried my face between her thighs, teasing her for as long as I could bear before I simply had to lick her. She tasted sweet, rich and creamy. Her scent intoxicated me. My tongue lapped at her, flicking over her swollen nub, sucking her, searching inside her as deep as I could reach.

I wanted her naked. I lifted my head and looked at her, “Take it off, I want to see you,” it wasn’t a request. She pulled her dress over her head and ripped her strapless bra off. Finally I got to see her completely, as I had wanted to for so long. I gave myself some minutes to just look at her; her breasts, heaving as she breathed, her narrow waist and gently curved hips, her gorgeous cunt opened wide for me. I took a mental photograph of her for later.

My hands grasped her breasts and I pinched and played with her pink nipples as my head sank back to torment her pussy.

“Oooooh fuuuuuuck! Aaaaaaahhhh…” her hands grabbed the sides of my head and she grinded her sex against my mouth, shameless, caring only that her need was satisfied, crying out unintelligible sounds as she came. Kissing her inner thighs as she panted, coming down from her peak, I wondered what else was going to happen between us. What about our rule?

“Your turn.”

Surprised, I looked at her, her face and chest flushed a delightful pink, her hair messed and tangled, “Don’t you want to?” she asked.

I stood and she sat up to undo my belt and charcoal dress trousers, pulling my cock out and pushing the clothes down to my knees. Reaching between her legs, she coated her palm with her own juices and used it to glide her hand along my length, looking up into my eyes, her generous, round breasts bobbing as she stroked me. I was torn between letting her carry on and throwing her down on the bed to devour those nipples.

She didn’t give me any further choice; her tongue snaked its way from the base of my erection to the tip where she flicked her tongue over my delicate head while her small hand played with my balls. Her mouth sucked, licked and teased me until I felt I couldn’t hold out any longer. When I felt her fingers press against the sensitive spot just behind my cock, a deep pressure, unlike anything I had ever felt before built within me. I didn’t have time to warn her as I exploded into her mouth, shooting out more that I think I ever had before, the surge of my orgasm hitting every nerve ending in my body. Breathless, I stood as she lapped me clean, my hands in her tousled hair, wanting to explain to her how I felt but not having the words.

She smiled up at me. I bent to kiss her mouth but she backed away, “No. We can’t. The rule,” a tiny frown creasing her brow as she stood up and retrieved her underwear from the floor, “Let’s just enjoy what we did, ok?”

Later, as I mingled in the crowd, networking, enduring the idle chatter, my phone vibrated in my pocket.

The text: “How do you feel knowing you’ve seen me naked? Knowing I’ve drained your cock and that you fucked me with your tongue?”

I couldn’t suppress the grin on my face as I typed back, “Hard”, looking up and seeing her glowing face across the room as she casually turned her back to me to talk to a colleague.




The man sat two seats down and opposite from her, his head leaned back against the rest, eyes gazing out the window, his hands tucked under his armpits. She could make out the stubble on his exposed throat and saw a hint of chest hair peep from his open shirt collar. His biceps looked good beneath the light blue cotton of his shirtsleeves, not too big, but toned and shapely. He had his rolled up his sleeves to the elbow. She admired his forearms, crossed over his broad chest, covered in light brown, soft looking hair. They looked strong, firm. She wondered how they would feel around her waist, holding her close.

Without warning, almost as if he had sensed her watching him, he lifted his head and looked directly at her, his eyes a deep chocolate brown. Feeling her cheeks flush at being caught blatantly ogling him, she cast her gaze downwards to her lap and bit her lip. Tentatively she raised her lashes and saw him still looking at her, an amused smile on his lips. She liked how his eyes creased at the edges. Feeling braver, she smiled back and did a “yeah I was caught” eye roll which made his smile broaden. He uncrossed his arms and shifted in his seat, turning his body more in her direction and rested his hands, fingers entwined, on the table in front of him. She noticed he had large hands; she loved big powerful hands on a man. No wedding ring. She smiled again.

He planted his elbows on the table and rested his chin on his knuckles. She watched as his eyes travelled from hers, down along her body, lingering when they reached her chest, before continuing down over her legs. A slight nod, as if he approved of what he saw, and his eyes met hers again.

Heat spread through her body. His deliberate and unashamed admiration of her made her pussy throb. She felt herself grow wet and her nipples harden. She held his gaze and slowly licked her lips, stroked her throat suggestively. Smiling as she saw him adjust himself in his seat, his movement drew her attention to his evident arousal, a growing buglge at his groin.

She let her mind wander to what she would discover if she was able to unzip his trousers; would he be large? Cut? Intact? She picturered herself on her knees between his parted thighs, her tongue poised over his head, her eyes directed up to see his reaction. She imagined his mouth covering her nipple, his teeth grazing it as his fingers slid inside her.

The automated voice crackled, announcing her stop and shattering her fantasy. Irritated, she twisted her mouth into a “shucks, too bad” and shrugged her shoulders, sending him a silent message of regret. She gathered her coat and bag and stood to leave. He nodded, gave her a small wave of goodbye and she walked to rear of the carriage, swaying her hips more than necessary and forcing herself to not glance backwards at him.

Waiting in line to pay for a coffee for the walk home, she thought of him. She wondered who he was, where he was going, would he be on the train again tomorrow. She knew she was going to have to use her own fingers to satisfy her need once she got home, imaging they were his. As the barista told her how much a hand reached across front of her face.

“Please allow me,” a deep, throaty voice. Turning, she saw him standing beside her, almost a foot taller and bigger than she had first thought. His chest broader, shoulders wider. Speechless and stunned, she allowed him to buy her coffee. Sudden heat and an electric rush of adrenaline as she felt his hand on the small of her back, guiding her away from the coffee kiosk, towards a bench nearby.

“Would you sit with me? I made a New Year’s Resolution not to miss the chance to talk to a beautiful woman ever again.”

Giggling, she replied, “I would hate to not help you keep your resolution.”

Then, feeling the blood rush to her cheeks, “Although… it’s warmer back at my place…”

Copyright, 2016,

All rights reserved.

F4TF #2… The Fine Line



This week’s F4FT conundrum is…



In a monogamous relationship what constitutes cheating?

Is sexting cheating? A stolen kiss at a party? What about enjoying sexual fantasies about a co-worker or your spouse’s friend?

Where is the line?

Well… this is a thorny one!

Obviously sleeping with someone who is not your partner is cheating, that’s a given. But what about sexting? A kiss? Fantasy?

I think the old adage that if you feel the need to hide what you are doing then chances are you are doing so because you know it is wrong…

So, if you have messages or pictures in your DM or inbox that you would not want your partner to find, or if you have a second phone or secret social media account that your partner knows nothing of, perhaps you need to ask yourself why. If you are happy to tell your partner that you received sexy pictures or that you flirt with people via social media or text, then its out in the open, you can discuss it and decide if it is a threat to the relationship. The OH knows I am a tremendous flirt and I have his permission to be myself online… within limits obviously!

As for a stolen kiss… I think if that’s all it was, a momentary lapse in judgement or control, then it isn’t cheating. If more happened, or if it developed into more, then yes, you have entered cheating territory. Whether or not to tell is another issue. If it really was nothing, perhaps a drunken fumble, then being honest could potentially do more harm than good. It’s a matter of weighing up why you would tell: is it because it would just ease your conscience or is it because you feel there are deeper issues that need to be discussed between you and your partner?

As for fantasising about friends or colleagues… I think if we called this cheating it would be a sad day for us all. As with flirting, a little fantasy is harmless fun and, in my opinion, completely natural. Just because I am married does not mean I don’t notice attractive people. I frequently have sexy dreams about all sorts of people I know… albeit some more welcome than others, we can’t help what we dream of!

A little day dream fantasy about someone is fine in my book. It really only becomes an issue if it is a constant thing, if all you can think about is that person. If that is the case I think you need to see it as a warning that maybe you are developing feelings for your crush.

I am sure many of you will have very different thoughts on this issue. I think the most important thing is to be with someone who shares your feelings about monogamy and when you cross that line onto infidelity.

Each to their own. Be happy people!


Copyright, 2015,

All rights reserved.