On Sunday afternoon, most people had disappeared in the house or grounds for a snooze.
I had the pool to myself and after a lazy swim I ploughed through the weekend papers for a while, my body hanging in the water while I flicked the pages on the edge of the pool.
As I grew tired I couldn't take my mind off Strawberry Boy. "Come to see me later!" he'd whispered in my ear me after he had finished serving us lunch, and he'd showed me his room before I skipped downstairs again to go out for a game of tennis.
That I knew where his room was was absolutely essential. The day before, on the hunt for that shaver I needed to sort out my prickly legs I had ended up knocking on several random doors. Unable to locate my friend who had the shaver I had felt stuck in a real-life advent calendar - there was no telling what one might find behind each door, but it was usually a frazzled boy I barely know in a towel. I'm not complaining, but it got a bit embarrassing.
Shaver duly located a few hours later when the couple had come downstairs dressed for dinner, I was finally able to get ready. My efforts with the blade paid off when SB couldn't take his hands and mouth of my knees and ankles!
However, I still stopped at trimming my bush. This lady's garden's not expecting any visitors, and if they come they'd better be brave explorers armed with a handy machete and a torch to find their way. At least so was my reckoning.
So I climbed out of the pool, dried off and pulled my summer dress on over my head. I disposed of the wet bikini and hung it in the sun on the fence surrounding the pool, before making my way inside the mansion wearing just the dress and flip flops.
I found SB's room and knocked. For all I knew he'd be slaving away again in a hot kitchen, but instead he invited me in and I found him sitting messy-haired and sleepy-eyed on his unmade bed.
"Had a good snooze?" I asked, and he smiled and lay back down. I went around the outside of the bed and joined him, cradling my head onto his shoulder.
He pulled me close. "Thank you for coming, I was just thinking of you..." "Well here I am" I replied, and he cocked his head and kissed me. "I'd like kissing you a lot more if you didn't smoke" I told him once again. "I only smoke about 3 or 4 a day..." he defended himself. "Sure, but I can taste every one of them" I reminded him.
Anyway, it was very nice to kiss him again, to be close to him in his bed and pull his strawberry blonde hair while his stubble tickled my neck.
"I'm not so good at this instant intimacy" I told him when he asked why I wouldn't stay the night before. "I've had some really bad experiences this year so I am just trying to keep a distance"
Not much of a distance now, though... "Perfect tits" he remarked as he teased my nipples through the fabric. I don't think he knew I wasn't wearing knickers either, but the dress was tight aroudn the knees so I didn't expose myself.
He pulled me on top of him: "Come on top, I like that..." and he carressed my bum and pulled me close for a kiss. "You're just lazy" I teased him as I writhed around on top, feeling the fabric of his jeans on my flesh.
Then he was on top again. "I so want to be inside you right now" he told me "but I know you won't let me". "No", I confirmed, "I won't".
His phone buzzed from under his pillow, and he turned it to silence. "It's my girlfriend" he said, straight-faced. I chuckled: "oh, yeah? What's her name?" taking it for a joke. "Tara..." he replied.
"Um, you have a girlfriend?! What are you doing?" I was still lying underneath him, his head on my chest now, looking up at me sheepishly whilst I buried my hands in his hair.
"It's not really working out" he said "we've been friends for ages but I can't see myself raising kids with her". And he proceeded to tell me how she was from rich, arrogant stock who looked down on his poorer mates, went hunting, lived in a dream bubble world of their own, spoilt by money and spoilt for choice, lazing their days away.
I said that I don't really understand that world either, and mentioned BBB and his weird aristocratic arrogance.
"I don't want to do this" I told him, "what am I doing with a guy who has a girlfriend?" I'd only known him a couple of days but I was a bit disappointed in him. And really proud of me for not staying the night before. After all, if it's 'meant to be' or whatever, what's the rush? I now understood.
If his girlfriend's dad owns half the county and he is too cowardly to call it off, time was pressing for him to make the most of a weekend away from home. Although they don't even live together.
He kissed his way down my leg and onto my foot, sitting on the floor at the edge of the bed and he took my toes into his mouth to kiss and suck them. I do love a good toe job.
Rather to be honest about your weird kinks than try to live them out elsewhere, I think!
"I want to go down on you" he told me, looking deep into my eyes, my foot resting on his cheek.
"Not sure that is such a good idea right now..." I tried to put him off. "Are you on your period?" he asked. "Um, yes... and I've not shaved for about a month"
"I don't mind that" he breathed, creeping up the bed to lie next to me again, "I don't mind that in the least."
Was oral sex falling off the chastity wagon? I tried to reason with myself. The guy has a girlfriend. I am celibate. I've had enough fucks to last me a life time, and enough head fucks to last me ten.
On the other hand, we're not spending the night, there isn't any true intimacy, he was honest about his girlfriend (although he's clearly not being honest with her)...
And by now I craved his tongue on me.
"You have ten minutes to do with me what you like, then I've got to prepare dinner" he reminded me.
So I didn't stop him when he made his way down my body again, when he pushed my dress up and parted my pubes, when he buried his head in my knickerless crotch, when he found my clit and flicked his tongue across it in teasing, gossamer strokes.
I gasped, he was so surprisingly good.
Normally, it takes me a while to relax enough to let someone else make me come. I usually finish myself off with my fingers, but this wasn't an option and didn't appear necessary with him.
He just kept going.
I'd told him "ok, you can do what you like, but I won't touch you or anything" and he'd looked at me mock-sternly, saying how I was being mean and a tease. I didn't care.
His tongue grew wider, more insistant, I clenched my fingers into the side of his head and could feel myself getting really moist.
He didn't vary his rhythm, just the way it has to be done, teasing me higher and higher on that orgasm curve and increasing the pressure of his tongue as I pulled his head closer into my crotch, my pussy hair wet with his saliva and my juices.
I came. And he kept licking, I was aware of my gasps and moans carrying outside through the open windows, aware of the other guests reclining in their rooms although most had left by now. I kept my fingers in his hair and he kept licking, tenderly, insistently, and I came again.
Yum.
I pulled him up towards me and kissed him deeply. "I love your taste" he said, wiping his mouth. "Thank you... you were wonderful, how do you do that?"
I smiled because I get that compliment all the time. Even when I'm not menstruating.
"You can't taste any blood because I am wearing one of these things, a moon cup". He'd not heard of them, but neither have most girls I know. It's more comfortable than a tampon, there are no leaks and I like to be green, I suppose.
We snuggled up for a bit more, talking about this and that, his upcoming Masters, my flat in London, people in the house for the weekend, his other jobs.
"It's after seven", I glanced at my watch, "don't you have to go back to work?" "Um, yes, shoot" he said and struggled into a new shirt whilst I went to his bathroom.
I made my way discreetly down a different staircase than the one I'd come up, and began helping to collect the glasses strewn around various rooms and the terrace.
When I next saw him he was, indeed slaving away in the kitchen, classic radio blaring, baking, cooking and washing things whilst flirting with my friend's 8 month old son.
We said goodbye after dinner. I kissed him in the kitchen when I brought the last lot of plates back. Somehow we talked of his girlfriend again: "I'm sorry, I'm a dick" he said. "Well I'm glad I didn't stay the night with you in that case" I said, feeling smug.
I had to drive back to London for the week ahead. "I'll call you. You know I will" he said when I told him goodbye.
"Sure, do. And none of that texting malarkey" I warned him.
On Monday morning, I had two texts from him: "Hello my little tasty peach, just a quick message so you have my number...have fun at work, I'll call you in a few days, maybe Friday? Have a fab week xx"
And the other read: "Miss the taste of you already"
Things happen, I think about them, I write about them (sometimes even without thinking about them too much to be honest) and that's it.
