He kisses my neck on his sofa, urgent, keen, smacking kisses. I don't want him to stop. "So nice how you don't just kiss my neck to turn me on, or turn yourself on" I tell him, squirming. "You kiss my neck because you love my neck". He smiles at me and nods.
"This is so much more than just friends", he says as he holds my head close to his chest. "So much more".
I get a text that tells me he's been fantasising about me in the morning. The next text says: "I picture the look on your face, the way you look when we make love".
"Ha ha, I am such a slut", I laugh after one of my stories, spread across his sheets as we take a break from rolling around in ecstasy. He places his hand on my ribcage just below my left breast. "You're not a slut in here", he says.
I admit I wanted to wait to get closer, so I could get my bush into shape. "I didn't want you to have to battle through months of growing out my down-there afro" I tell him, "so I cut it yesterday". "You prepared your pussy for me?" he asks, chuffed. Hmm, yes... I blush at the thought of having had to get the hoover out to remove the small pile of pubes from the bathroom floor I am not sure my flatmate hadn't seen.
"You'd look gorgeous when you're pregnant" he tells me, clearly not concentrating on his Sunday paper. "All happy and glowing...". I am not so sure of that: "I think I'll just look like a fat blob" I smile, pulling myself into a sit-up with my still perfect stomach muscles to plant a kiss on the side of his mouth.
"Thank you for supporting me, more than you know" he tells me, eyes locked on mine and only just pulling out of a kiss. "I didn't want to spend another night in that place". I agree, it's not great to worry about someone you love in hospital, so I picked him up as soon as he'd discharged himself. "You should definitely have kids young" I tell him, "whilst you are young and fit, before you turn into an old wreck". This may happen sooner than we both fear...
