by Jessica Ashe
Not even dirty dishes can get rid of my boner, which is still protruding eagerly from my dressing gown. It’s not likely to disappear while I keep thinking about last night, but it’s all that’s on my mind. I still can’t quite believe it happened.
I’ve known for a while that screwing Becky was inevitable, but I’d budgeted for another week and assumed I’d be the one to make the first move. She’d come over looking a little stressed and I thought she wanted to talk, however it quickly became clear she only had one thing on her mind.
A few orgasms later, and she was a lot less stressed. We chilled out in front of the television and ended up screwing again a few hours later. We never studied or even mentioned studying. I think that was the first time we’ve just hung out like a normal couple.
I try not to read too much into her morning disappearance. We spent an entire afternoon and evening together not studying—she just needs to catch up on lost time.
The sound of the doorbell ringing loudly immediately kills my boner, because I know exactly who it is. I open the door to see my daughter on the verge of tears and smelling distinctly like she has a full nappy.
“Hello, you cute little thing,” I say to the cute little thing.
“She needs changing,” Dana says sternly.
Of course she does. I take Gemma in my arms and make enough silly faces to hold off the tears for the time being.
“I hope you’ve gotten rid of any little tramps you had over last night,” Dana says. “You know I don’t like my daughter being around all that.”
“Our daughter,” I reply. “There’s no one else here, and I think you’re forgetting how our daughter was conceived in the first place.”
“How could I forget?”
Dana usually can’t wait to get out of here after dropping off Gemma, but she’s still hanging around on my doorstep like a smell worse than the one coming from Gemma’s nappy.
“Do you want anything?” I ask.
“I need more money.”
“No you don’t. You get plenty.”
“I want to hire a new babysitter, and she’s expensive.”
“Dana, you get enough money to have Taylor Swift babysit our child. You don’t need any more. The whole reason we negotiated an agreement was to provide some certainty to our lives and our daughter’s life. You can’t just go changing the terms when it suits you.”
“You’ve changed the terms,” she replies. “You were supposed to have Dana at weekends, but now you’re taking her Thursday and Friday.”
“That’s different. I can’t take her every Saturday because I have to play football.”
I fucked up big time when agreeing to terms with Dana. When she offered me custody of Gemma every weekend, I snapped it up in a heartbeat. It sounded like a great deal, but I hadn’t realized that college football was played on Saturdays. Yet another way my lack of knowledge of the sport has cost me.
“I’ll think about it,” I reply. I know Gemma is too young to understand what’s going on, but I don’t like the idea of arguing with her mother in front of her. I look down at Dana’s hand and notice she has tan lines on nearly every finger where she’s been wearing rings. She probably takes them off before these visits hoping I won’t notice how she’s spending the money I give her for looking after Gemma. I expect the handbag and all the clothes are expensive as well, but I know jack shit about fashion.
“You do that. And when you decide to pay me extra, get in touch with my lawyer.”
“Goodbye, Dana.” I shut the door in her face before she has time to reply. I know I’m going to end up giving her the extra money—just like I know Gemma won’t see any of it. Neither will any babysitter.
I take Gemma to the bathroom and manage to change her nappy without getting shit all over myself. I’m getting better at this ‘being a father’ lark. I already know what the biggest challenge will be over the coming years. Dana will spend five days a week every week badmouthing me to Gemma, and I’ll only have two days a week to prove I’m not a complete jackass. I’m determined to rise above it and not speak ill of Dana in front of Gemma. Boy, that is going to be tough.
The second we walk into the living room, Gemma sees her favorite toy and there’s nothing I can do to keep her in my arms. She half crawls, half drags herself like a possessed zombie towards the pink fluffy bear, ignoring countless other toys that cost ten times as much.
I text Becky to see if she wants to hang out, but her reply doesn’t exactly fill me with confidence.
I’m working all day.
Okay, so that’s how it’s going to be. She’s feeling guilty for sleeping with me, so now I’m going to get a load of grief. I go to send a reply, but another message comes through.
Sorry, I’m just really busy. I’d love to see Gemma again. Want to meet up tomorrow?
Gemma would like to see you too, I reply.
“Gemma, are you free tomorrow afternoon?” She bangs the bear on the floor in response. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes.’ Think you can avoid pooing in your nappy for a few hours?” She laughs her evil laugh and bangs the bear on the floor more aggressively. That’s a ‘no.’
Gemma’s going to make me pay for this. One day, when she’s older, she’s going to remind me of this moment. I know that doesn’t make any sense—she’s too young—but somehow she will. Hopefully Becky will still be around to see it.
Gemma helps me get closer to Becky, but she also stops me getting laid. We hang out at a park near college for a bit, but there can be no sneaking off to somewhere quiet when you have a baby in tow.
I try not to let it get to me. Becky wants to spend time together, and that’s all I need right now. Things are happening, just a little more slowly than I would like.
One thing not moving slowly is the football season. The first game sneaks up on me, and suddenly I’m eating structured meals and getting ready for the big game in the evening. Big game or not, I have the day free, and I’m bored. Becky insists she’s working, but everyone has to take a break at some point.
After wandering around campus like a lost visitor for half an hour, I finally find my way up to the offices used by the college newspaper. The college has an entire building dedicated to running college clubs and activities. I never made it to university in the UK, but I’m fairly sure they don’t have operations like this.
I peek into the office through a gap in the blinds and see that Becky is alone. She’s sat at a desk with a finger pressed against her cheek as she reads the text in a Word document in front of her. She looks so cute when she’s focused on her work. Becky even dresses the part. It might be a Saturday, and this might just be a college newspaper, but she’s wearing a trousers and blouse combination that’s suitable for any office.
My cock twitches in my pants as I imagine opening a few more buttons on that blouse and sliding a hand up between her warm thighs.
I should probably leave her alone, but where would be the fun in that?
“Good afternoon,” I say in a deep voice as I walk into the office. “I’m looking for a horny little slut who needs a good fucking. Have you seen her?”
Becky spins around in her chest so quickly she ends up going in a full circle. Her head darts around checking that the office is empty, but even after seeing the coast is clear she still looks angry.
“Christ, Charles. You can’t do that. Peter could have been moping around.”
“Don’t panic, I checked to see if you were alone.”
I walk up and kiss her on the cheek. I’m half expecting her to push me away, but she lets me kiss her, and even places a hand briefly on my chest.
“I don’t have time to hang out,” Becky says. “I’m not trying to sound like a bitch. I’m just really busy.”
“I know. I just wanted to see. You carry on working, while I just sit here and watch you.”
I pull up a chair and sit behind her right shoulder. Her screen has a Word document on the left-hand side, and what looks like research notes on the ri
ght-hand side. Whatever she’s writing about, she’s done six thousand words according to the counter in the bottom left-hand corner. This is either one hell of a long article, or she’s using the newspaper’s office to write a book.
“I don’t believe you can just sit there and keep quiet,” Becky says. “No offense, but you fidget more than your daughter.”
Now it’s my turn to instinctively make sure that no one is listening. I’ve been a little slack lately when it comes to keeping Gemma a secret, but I still want to drag it on as long as possible.
“I won’t say a word,” I promise. “You just do what you got to do.”
“Okay.” I can see she doesn’t believe me, but she turns back towards her monitor and resumes reading over her work. It’s something to do with cheerleaders. Throw a few decent pictures in there, and this might be one of the few college newspaper articles I actually read.
Her trousers cling tightly to her thighs as she crosses her legs subconsciously. I breathe in deeply through my nose and catch a faint whiff of her deodorant; subtle, but floral and sweet.
I quietly slide my chair closer to her and peer over her shoulder, trying to look down her blouse to catch a glimpse of her firm breasts. She has too many buttons done up, and I can barely see anything. But I know they’re there. Those firm breasts, nipples ready to stand to attention as soon as I touch them.
Becky crosses her arms under her breasts and pushes them up slightly. I can see the tiniest bit of skin now through a gap in the buttons and it’s enough to have my cock reach semi-erect stage. It doesn’t take much these days—not where Becky is concerned.
Becky’s naïve enough to not realize just how much power she has over me. Probably for the best—she could turn me into her slave if she knew just how much I needed her body. I lean forward to kiss her gently on the neck. She twitches under my touch but tries to shrug it off and carry on working.
Then there’s another kiss, and then another.
“You’re not going to make this easy on me, are you?” she asks, eyes still staring at the monitor.
“No, I intend to make it very, very hard.”
“I’m working.”
“You can work later. Look, you can pretend all you like that you want to sit here and read your article, but we both know that you want this as much as I do. I’m not going to forget what happened in a hurry.”
“Well we can’t do anything here anyway….”
“Yes, we can. It’s easy. You just sit there, while I….” I reach forward and grab her thigh, squeezing it gently before working my way up towards her sex. I can already feel the heat coming from between her legs; she can’t tell me she doesn’t want this.
“Some of us have responsibilities.”
“My responsibility is to keep you satisfied. I’d appreciate it if you let me do my job.”
My fingers gently part her legs, as I rub my palm against her essence, teasing her already wet folds. Becky grabs my hand and yanks it from between her legs. I’m about to complain when she spins around on her chair and immediately pulls down my shorts. My semi-erect cock pops out and she grabs it firmly.
For a second, I think she’s going to punish me with a bit of cock torture. Her eyes are locked on mine and she looks serious and angry. I’m about to apologize for going too far, when she starts moving her hand up and down, slowly tugging on my cock and quickly making it rock hard under her touch.
I groan deeply, as she quickly ekes a bit of precum from the tip.
She moves her chair closer, spinning around so that her back’s to the window. If anyone happens to peak through the mostly closed blinds, all they will see is a girl and a guy sat next to each other focusing intently on what a neutral would assume is a draft article.
“Faster,” I growl at her.
She pulls my shorts down further, and switches hands. Her spare hand clasps over my mouth in an attempt to keep me quiet, but I gently bite her fingers and she snaps it away.
Becky’s strokes get faster, but she keeps the same rhythm, steadily bringing me closer and closer to completion. She’d been nervous in bed with me, but she’s in her element now. I suspect she did this in the past to avoid committing to full sex, but I don’t much care. She’s experienced, talented, and she’s about to make me cum.
I want to reach out and grab her breasts, or her ass, anything really. I just want to touch her, but my hands are gripping the sides of the chair and I can’t let go without falling off in excitement. Becky looks up at me while her hand works on my cock. She’s still the picture of innocence, even while tossing me off. I try to keep looking at her, but it’s like staring at the sun. I have to close my eyes after a few seconds before they pop out of my head.
Now I see why teenage boys think this can make you go blind.
She leans in and kisses me on the lips. I’m so close.
And then she stops. I moan in her mouth as her lips linger on mine. Slowly, she pulls her mouth away, and the next time I feel her lips they’re wrapping around my cock. Her hot mouth embraces my shaft, lips sliding down as her tongue flips against my tip.
I want to stretch the moment out, but I’m already close to bursting. I grab hold of her hair and hold her lips in place halfway down my cock. Another deep groan escapes my lips as I erupt into her mouth, filling her up quicker than she can swallow. Some cum drips down my shaft, although she manages to swallow most of it. Not bad at all, considering I don’t give her much in the way of a warning.
Becky wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, and then licks her lips seductively. It’s almost enough to have me immediately hard again. Her cheeks are flushed, and the anger in her eyes has been replaced with pure passion. She needs this release almost as much as I do.
“Back to work,” she says casually, spinning her chair around and scooching back to her desk.
I grab the chair and pull it back towards me, after stuffing my dick back into my shorts. “No chance. I’m not done with you yet.”
“What do you—?”
I look around and spot a large desk that’s almost empty except for a few books. I sweep the desk clean and then drag Becky over, pushing her against it with a kiss while my hand reaches between her legs.
“No, we can’t,” she mumbles between kisses.
“There’s no way I’m not returning the favor and having you thinking British guys are selfish.”
“Someone will see.”
I go over to the window and adjust the blinds so that they’re fully closed and angled towards the ceiling. “There, no one can see in now.”
“I still don’t think—”
“That’s your problem; too much thinking.”
I unzip her trousers and pull them down to her ankles. She kicks them off while my fingers dive under the thin and soaking wet fabric of her panties. She’s so eager, her pussy practically pulls two of my fingers inside her. Her hips rock into my hand, and a low moan escapes her lips. She has a hand pressed against my chest, but she doesn’t try to push me away.
I pull my fingers out and lift her up onto the desk. She leans back on her hands, hooking her legs over my shoulders as I fall to my knees in front of her.
There’s a part of me that wants to draw the moment out, caress her thighs, and enjoy the beauty of her sex with just my eyes for a little longer. However, I’m helpless to resist her essence. Her scent brings me in, and I have to taste her immediately.
My tongue flicks against her folds, as I tease myself with her excitement. She slips back onto her elbows, and thrusts her sex into my mouth. Neither of us wants to go slow. Fine with me.
I slip two fingers inside her and let my tongue focus on her clit. I flick it, gently at first, and then press my tongue against it, stimulating as many nerves as possible at once. When my fingers curl up inside her, Becky collapses down on the desk and uses her hands to hold my head in place.
She wriggles under my touch when I take her clit between my lips and start lashing it with my tongue while gently suck
ing. It hardens in my mouth, and becomes increasingly sensitive to my touch. Every flick of the tongue now has Becky groaning and shaking.
I feel the orgasm in her thighs first, as they clamp in place around my back. Every muscle in her body tenses up, and she whimpers something incomprehensible. She might be screaming my name, but it sounds more like she’s speaking in tongues.
It’s a combination of my tongue on her clit and my fingers rubbing against her front wall that sends her over the edge. She can barely breathe as her muscles shake, all strength disappearing from her body. She’s cursing and taking in short breaths, while softly playing with my hair as I keep gently kissing her folds.
I hear footsteps on the old concrete floor outside.
Becky either hasn’t heard or no longer cares about being caught. Probably the former, and there’ll be hell to pay if we’re seen. I grab her jeans from the floor and slide them up her legs while she lies there struggling to breathe. There’s no time for the panties, so I shove them in her pocket.
Her hair’s all over the place, and there’s no mistaking the red flush on her cheeks, but Becky picks up on the urgency and within seconds, she’s sat at her desk as if nothing had happened.
I look around for any, uh, bodily fluids that might give the game away, but most of that ended up sliding down Becky’s throat, so we should be okay.
A guy bursts into the office in a hurry. He does a double take when he sees me, so at least he hasn’t seen anything through the blinds. He looks like what I would think of as a public school boy, but here I think the word is ‘preppy,’ or just ‘douchebag’ as the case requires.
“What do you want, Peter?” Becky asks irritably. She doesn’t like this guy. Her voice is dripping with contempt, much like it had been when she first spoke to me in the sauna. Something told me this Peter guy wouldn’t be able to win her around like I did.
“You’re not the only one who can come into the office on a Saturday,” Peter replies. His eyes keep darting from Becky to me and back to Becky again. He clearly suspects that something is going on between us. Good job it’s not any of his business.
