The Next Step - Chapter Four free porn video

Do you know what day it is today?

I hit send and smile as I wait for your reply.

Tuesday?

Even though you can’t see me, I roll my eyes.

Well, obviously it’s Tuesday. But it’s not just any Tuesday. Today is exactly six months since our first real-life fuck. Shame it wasn’t as memorable for you… (winking face)

As my mind goes back to that night, and then the night that followed it, my pulse begins to race. I’ve never done anything like that before, never taken that sort of risk, or experienced that level of pleasure.

I glance down at your reply.

I remember plenty about that weekend.

To prove this point, you have sent a series of photos.

The outside of the hotel we met at.

The arty picture you took, a black and white close-up of one of your hands cupping one of my breasts.

A stock image of a woman with her hands tied behind her back.

A website link to the exact lube that I bought from the sex shop I visited. I had intended to keep that for the next time we met; little did I know that you would return that night and we would be using it the next morning.

Ohhh that’s nice! So, let me get this right… you can still remember which lube you used the first time you fucked my arse, but not the date you did the deed?!?

I’m giggling before you respond.

I laugh out loud when I see what you’ve written.

Correct. (horny devil face).

I take a moment to think of a suitably sassy reply, but when I pick up my phone again, I can see that you’re already typing. I wait.

What are you doing on Friday?

I’ve got a busy morning planned… but I am free in the afternoon. Thinking of a phone chat?

I make the mistake of taking a sip of my coffee at this point and nearly choke as your words appear on my screen.

No, thinking of fucking you again.

‘Tease’, I think, shaking my head as I recover my composure and start to reply.

Haha, very funny! Seriously, why did you want to know?

My heart stops as I read the next message.

I wasn’t joking. I’ll be working just down the road from you on Friday. It’ll probably be a late one, so I’ll stopover. Fancy joining me? x

I should take my time to think about this offer, to think about everything that’s involved, to look at the bigger picture.

But there can only ever be one answer when it comes to you, to us.

Yes! OMG YES!!!

We exchange a few more messages about our plans and then decide we both need to get back to work. I find it hard to concentrate; my mind is full of thoughts about meeting up again and what we might do. Thoughts that begin in my mind and end up in my knickers.

We’ve only met up once since that first weekend together, a few stolen hours in a city-centre hotel room when I skipped the afternoon session of a conference I was attending. Yet again, it was magical, but it had been over too quickly. Once I’d washed the last traces of your body from my own, I was left wondering if the experience had just been a deliciously erotic dream.

My reverie is interrupted by a nagging feeling that won’t shift. Something doesn’t feel right, but I can’t put my finger on what it is.

I reach for my phone and open the calendar.

‘Fuck’, I say under my breath as my suspicions are confirmed. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Opening the message app, I quickly type:

Hey, any chance we could make it the following Friday? Promise it will be worth the wait! xx

My heart sinks as I realise that you’re not currently online and it’s nearly an hour later when you reply.

I would if I could, but I’m not sure all of the other people that booked tickets for this a year ago would be too happy about that. No problem if you can’t make it. I know it’s short notice for you x

I kick myself for being so stupid. It’s blindingly obvious that you wouldn’t be able to rearrange.

Sitting with my head in my hands, elbows resting on my desk, I try to figure out a solution to the dilemma this has presented me with. I check the dates again, hoping that I somehow miscalculated when I looked earlier. Unfortunately, there was no mistake.

I have two choices: turn down the opportunity to spend a night with you or go ahead and take the risk.

In theory, there should be a third option, one that involves meeting up, but minimising the threat that doing so poses to us.

But I know, deep down, that this will never be an option where we are concerned.

Never.

Ever.

Anyone who has ever dabbled with online erotica and cyber hook-ups will know that safe sex is rarely practiced, that we trade the physical limitations of fantasy fucking in return for losing all the practical considerations that would constrain us in real life. We typically play in a world that imitates porn, a world where bodies are model-like, orgasms appear as if by magic and cum tastes like nectar. Condoms rarely get a mention and, even though the abundance of virtual playmates means that we swap our partners as quickly as we can exchange our bodily fluids, no one ever seems to suffer the consequences of doing so.

You and I have been different from the beginning. It was apparent from early on that both of us were becoming bored of pretend perfection and that we got off on the rawness of reality. We quickly shed our outer layers, discarding the expectations of what society told us that we should be and do if we wanted to find a mate in this highly sexualised parallel universe we had found ourselves in. Every truth we shared felt like another notch on our imaginary bedpost.

We wanted each other for who we were, not for who we could be.

I had never craved another human being on this level before; the depth of my desire for you blew my mind every time I tried to quantify it.

One of our defining moments was the realisation that we were both drawn to sexual experiences that many would consider boring. We didn’t want to involve props, dress-up costumes, or other people. We didn’t want to work our way through the Kama Sutra or break any world records. We didn’t need to travel to faraway, exotic places to ignite our spark; our lust was never defined by location.

If I had to describe our sex, I would use the word ‘primal’. A beautifully simplistic connection between two people, two bodies, two spirits.  A space where masculine and feminine energy combines and combusts. An instinctive flow of passion that effortlessly sweeps over us, carrying us away to a place where time stands still as we move closer together and deeper into each other.

We have experienced both physical and spiritual sex. Sometimes it’s one, sometimes it’s the other, sometimes it’s a glorious, earth-shattering combination of both. We’ve experienced physical sex whilst apart and purely spiritual sex whilst together. Our minds and bodies work inside and outside of each other so well that distance is often unable to limit or contain the pleasure we can achieve from this mystical connection that we share.

Our intimacy is built on three things: trust, respect, and the absence of any barriers (physically or spiritually) between us when we come together.

When we decided to meet for the first time, we never discussed the subject of protection, at least not directly. We both knew that to take such a huge step, to make the fantasy a reality, it had to be a natural progression of our intimate journey. Putting any form of block between us would take us backwards, not forwards, on our mission to reach that ultimate level of closeness. It would be all or nothing for us.

Previous discussions about our sexual pasts had indicated that there were unlikely to be any health concerns from us sleeping together; the only risk was creating a permanent souvenir of the event. In both of the previous instances, I had been able to plan our meetings to coincide with the lower-risk stages of my cycle. The fact that I am over forty, combined with certain other biological factors, meant that the chances of a mishap would be bordering on a miracle at those times.

But Friday will fall right in the middle of my danger zone.

If we go through with this, it could fuck things up quite spectacularly.

If I turn down this opportunity, it could be months before we can be together again.

I sit there, tapping my nails on the desk, trying to decide what to do.

My phone lights up with a message notification from you.

I don’t want to put you in a difficult position (only position I don’t want you in!). Shall we leave it for another time? Your choice x

I feel tears prickling my eyes as I read this. I’m moved by how sweet you are being, how you’re trying to take the pressure off me, and how you genuinely prioritise my happiness needs above your own sexual needs.

Just you try keeping me away, I write. I’ll be there. I need you xx

---

By the time Friday comes around, I’ve got it all figured out; everything will be okay.

It’s after seven by the time I get to the hotel and check-in. I know you’ll be busy for a few more hours, but it’ll give me chance to have a long soak in the bath and get everything ready for later. I order some wine from room service, wait for it to arrive, and then pour myself a large glass. I smile as I realise that it’s the same variety that we drank the first time we met up.

Slipping into the aromatic bubbles, I watch my pale skin turn pink, then red, from the heat of the water. It reminds me of the burning sensation on my arse cheeks when you tied me up and spanked me on our second night together. The memory of that night instantly arouses me, and I soon find my hand slipping between my thighs. I close my eyes and picture you as my fingers begin to stroke my sensitive clit, only stopping once I begin to climax, the sounds of my orgasm echoing against the tiled walls.

Once I’ve finished my bath, I dry myself off with a warm, fluffy towel and massage one of my homemade aromatherapy oils into my skin, leaving it soft, supple, and delicately scented.  I slip on my favourite black lace bra – the one you’ve seen countless pictures of – and a coordinating thong, then cover myself up in a hotel robe.

Realising that the wine seems to be going down rather quickly, I order another bottle and some snacks to go with it. I don’t know if you’ll have had a chance to get anything to eat this evening, and I feel responsible for topping up your energy levels before I drain them again afterwards.

Once the second lot of room service arrives, I snuggle up on the bed, put on an old movie, and count the minutes until your arrival.

When I get a text that says on my way, my excitement levels have gone through the roof.

I text you back with the room number, tidy my hair, and apply a fresh coat of lipstick, smiling as I think about where that will end up tonight.

Soon after, I hear a knock at the door.

I can barely breathe as I turn the handle and step back, making space for you to enter.

As the door shuts behind you, I throw my arms around your neck and lean up for a kiss, our height difference accentuated by my lack of heels. You throw your bag on the floor, kick off your shoes, and wrap your arms around my waist, pulling me close as your lips clamp down on mine.

“I’ve missed you,” I murmur as we eventually come up for air.

“Have you?” you reply, your hands weaving through my hair, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “How much?”

“This much.”

Without saying anything else, I untie the belt on my robe and slowly let it fall open, cascading down my shoulders and landing in a heap around my feet. As your eyes take in my lacy underwear and creamy flesh, I push you against the nearest wall and drop to my knees before you. My hands reach for your belt, deftly unbuckling it and unzipping your jeans at lightning speed. I pull your cock free, wrap my right hand around your shaft and plant a soft, wet kiss on the tip.

Keeping my eyes firmly locked on yours, I begin to lick and flick the head as I slide my fingers up and down the length. You groan as your hands find my hair again. I use my free hand to pull down your jeans and boxers and hold them steady as you step out of them. Without saying anything, you pull off your t-shirt and I take a moment to savour the full glory of your naked body towering over me, reminding me of a picture you once shared with me.

I set to work on pleasuring you, on worshipping my lover and his magnificent cock, now enticingly hard and desperate to be sucked. I don’t disappoint. With my hands on your thighs, nails pressing into your skin, I attempt to take as much of you into my mouth as I can fit. Pushing forward to take a little more, I clamp my sticky, red lips around you and suck, hard. As you grab bunches of my hair in your hands, I slide my mouth up and down your shaft, hungrily, noisily.

At one point, I feel your hands on my shoulders, getting ready to pull me up so that your cock can explore another part of my anatomy. Knowing that this isn’t in my plans for tonight, I deploy my secret tactic. Taking your cock in my hand, I kiss and suck your balls, smearing them with what little lipstick remains on my mouth.

Using my other hand to move your legs further apart, I begin to kiss further down. Cupping your balls with my fingers, I gently lift them, exposing the sensitive spot that you’ve told me lies behind them. The noise you make as my lips make contact confirms that I’ve found the right place and, careful not to lose any momentum, I begin to press and flick it with the tip of my tongue.

Once I am confident that you’re close to orgasm, I lean back on my heels to look up at you.

“I want you to cum on my tits,” I inform you as my finger takes over teasing the area where my mouth was just now.

“I want to cum inside you,” you gasp, reaching for my arms.

I predicted this might happen and that neither of us would want to give in; we’re both stubborn-as-fuck Taureans at the best of times, and our sexual battles can reach epic levels.

But I have another trick up my sleeve, so to speak.

I grab my phone from the desk and hand it to you.

“I want you to film it.”

You pause for a moment, the attention that you are receiving from the fingers tickling between your thighs and the other hand that’s now vigorously stroking your cock clearly slowing down your normal quick reactions.

“Film what?”

“You. Cumming on my tits. It’ll be like the hand-on-tit photo from last time, just much filthier.”

“But- “

“Sssssh,” I say, blowing you a kiss and increasing the pressure on your hot spot at the same time as I speed up my other hand.

“Fuck, yes!”

Pointing my phone towards my cleavage, you hit the record button just in time, managing to capture the moment as the first ropes of hot cum land on my ample breasts, dripping into the valley between them and down onto the cups of my bra. I keep stroking until the last drops reach me, coating more of my skin in your sticky manliness.

“Did that answer your question about how much I’ve missed you?” I enquire with mock-innocence as I get to my feet.

“Yes, I think it did. Anyway, my turn now,” you say, before grabbing my wrist and practically throwing me onto the bed.

Before I can protest, you are on top of me, grabbing the sides of my thong as you impatiently try to remove it. It’s a snug fit and isn’t budging easily, so I’m not surprised when you tear each of the panels of lace resting on my hips and rip the rest of it out from under me before launching it across the room.

With your thumbs pressing into my skin, you part my thighs and dive between them. Pulling my legs up over your shoulders, your tongue searches out my clitoris, making me moan as it makes contact with my sensitive flesh and sending ripples of pleasure around my writhing body.

There are times when you like to spend ages delighting and teasing me with your mouth; it’s one of your ‘things’.

Tonight, however, is not one of those times.

Tonight, you are a man on a mission to make me cum at record speed, a fact confirmed by the two fingers currently plunging in and out of my soaking pussy.

My body is on fire for you right now. I run my fingers through the trails of cum that you deposited on my tits earlier, rubbing some of it onto my hard, swollen nipples, still tightly encased within their lace shells.

The intensity is too much; I cannot stay still, and I wriggle around, trying to move away from your tongue to give my clit a temporary break from the lashing it’s receiving.

You have other ideas though.

Your free arm rests across my hips, pinning me to the bed, holding me where you want me and giving me no chance to delay the orgasm that you want me to have.

I cannot resist it any longer.

My climax is almost violent in its nature; my muscles squeeze your fingers so tightly, it’s impossible to tell if they are rewarding or punishing their efforts. It takes every bit of self-control that I possess not to scream out like a wild animal; instead, I bite the pillow hard enough to leave toothmarks in the dense cotton fabric.

We collapse back on the bed in satisfied silence as we recover; I don’t think I could speak if I wanted to, which I know you would consider to be a first.

Once I have regained the use of my mouth and my legs, I tell you that I need to clean myself up, hoping that you will join me. We leave the bathroom lights off and shower in almost complete darkness, just a glimmer of light peeping through from under the door. We kiss and touch under the steamy water, taking our time to carefully lather the other’s body with soapy bubbles, but neither of us has the energy for round two yet.

Wrapped up in the thick, soft towels, we curl up on the bed, drinking wine and eating the snacks I ordered earlier. I lie with my head resting on your chest and you play with my hair whilst telling me about the event you’ve been working at today. We’ve both had long days and the combination of our vigorous reunion, alcohol, and a comfortable warm room makes us sleepy.

It doesn’t take long until we give into it.

---

When I wake up, I have no idea how long I have been asleep.

I’m wearing the satin eye mask that I take with me when I stay in hotels; there always seems to be some rogue light that gets in from somewhere, which is guaranteed to keep me awake if I don’t block it out.

I listen for any clues. There isn’t any noise coming from the nearby rooms, no televisions blaring or showers running. The corridors are quiet, so I deduce that it must be late enough for most people to have returned from wherever they have been, but too early for the checking out and housekeeping process to have begun. The only sound I can hear is the rhythmic sound of your breath, mere inches from my ear.

You’re cuddled up behind me, spooning against my back. Your hand is resting on my hip and I’m tempted to stroke your fingers with my own, but then I remember my plan. Waking you would make sticking to that so much harder, I reason, so I lie still so as not to disturb you.

I’m just drifting off again when I feel your hand slowly sliding up my body. At first, I wonder if you are still asleep, but when you reach to cup my breast in your palm and begin stroking my nipple with the pad of your thumb, I suspect otherwise.

Closing what little gap there was between us, you lean forward to kiss the nape of my neck. I can’t help it; a soft moan escapes from my lips as I feel your erection pressing against the back of my thigh.

I know where this is leading.

I need to do something, quickly.

Reaching out for the bedside table, I fumble around until I find the drawer and then the item I put into it yesterday.

The sexual equivalent of a get-out-of-jail-free card, given my current situation.

“Here,” I whisper, handing you the distinctively shaped bottle of lube that you remembered so well. “Want to try this again?”

I lean forward a little, pushing my arse towards you, hoping you will take the bait.

It takes a moment for you to register what it is in the darkness.

“Another day, you know I will,” you reply, tossing the bottle across the room. “But not this time.”

Before I can ask what that means, you’re pulling me towards you by my shoulder, so that I am lying flat on my back, and climbing on top of me.

“Wait!” I say, my heart racing as I quickly try to come up with an alternative. “What if- “

My words are cut off as you lean down to kiss me, your lips crushing mine, silencing them as your tongue invades my mouth.

I reach up to remove my eye mask, conscious that I need to keep my wits about me, but I’m too slow. As my thumbs attempt to hook under the fabric, you grab my wrists and pin them above my head.

“Leave it on,” you demand between kisses.

“But- “

“Leave it on. You’ll feel more if you can’t see what’s happening.”

I struggle beneath you, striving to free my hands from your firm grip, but it’s no use; you’re too strong for me. Still, I keep trying, writhing and wriggling in an attempt to off-balance you.

My efforts are in vain; the only thing that I am achieving is to further excite you.

You continue to kiss me, occasionally sucking my tongue or nibbling my bottom lip to confuse my senses. When I feel you let go of my hands, I think I will have a chance to free myself. Seconds later, you take my left wrist again, pulling it up against the headboard as you begin to bind it with something soft. I try to guess what you are using to restrain me; my best guess would be the belt from the hotel bathrobe. As I stop to consider that you grab my right arm and secure that wrist to the wooden bed frame.

I am trapped.

I cannot move.

I cannot see.

I am completely vulnerable.

And yet I am also somewhat aroused.

I wonder if you will punish me for my resistance like you did on the previous occasion.

Through a tiny gap between the eye mask and my nose, I can detect light in the room. I imagine that you’ve probably switched one of the reading lamps on; there’s no way that you would miss out on the visual stimulation of the scene unfolding before you.

I can feel your knees on either side of my hips and I wonder if you’ll begin by fucking my mouth again, another one of your ‘things.’ As I get ready to clamp my mouth shut, I hear a noise that stops me in my tracks: a plastic bottle clicking open.

My mind is whirring, wondering what you are going to do to me. I can make out what sounds like you are rubbing your hands together. As I strain to listen closer, a familiar smell greets my nostrils.

A floral scent.

Jasmine, with maybe a hint of rose.

My aromatherapy oil.

I jolt as a drop of warm oil lands between my breasts, quickly followed by another, and then another.

Then stillness.

Silence.

Anticipation.

My nipples begin to swell.

Pucker.

Tighten.

Tingle.

Suddenly I feel a warm, oily hand take each of my tits and begin to massage them with leisurely, perfectly synchronized movements.

I whimper.

Your fingers expertly knead and squeeze my delicate flesh, firmly but deliberately working the luxurious oil into my skin and teasingly avoiding the sensitive tips. You reach as far up as my collarbone and as far out as my armpits, before steadily retracing the slippery path back to my breasts.

I think I have died and gone to heaven.

Then your mouth zones in on swollen teat and I reach another dimension.

As you begin to lick and flick and tease, I think I might pass out; I can hardly breathe.

I arch my back, pulling against the restraints as you suck my right nipple into your mouth. It feels like you have ignited a box of fireworks within my core; there are bolts of energy shooting off in all directions.

When you move to my left side, you squeeze the surrounding flesh with your fingers, pushing the tip further into your hungry mouth. I can feel an orgasm building and I think you know it too; gripping tighter with that hand, your other one forces its way between my thighs, dipping straight into the pool of hot, liquified desire that you have created there.

As your thumb presses my clit, I instantly explode.

You’ve read the signals well.

The hand that was massaging my breast shoots straight to my face, covering my mouth and muffling the sounds coming out of it before we wake our neighbours. You leave it there until my orgasm subsides and I visibly deflate beneath you.

Running your fingertips over my mask, ensuring it remains secure, you kiss me again.

Then I feel your hands between my thighs again, prising them apart.

Realisation washes over me, bringing me back down to earth with a bump.

“Wait,” I whisper.

“No,” you reply. Even though I can’t see you, I know that you are smiling, mischievously.

“We can’t… I mean, you can’t… Not now…” Even I know that I’m making no sense.

You begin stroking your cock up and down my slit, coating it in my slick juices.

“Please,” I whisper. “Wait.”

There’s something about the softness of my pleading that gets your attention. This isn’t the feisty, willful, playful behaviour that you’ve become accustomed to, the deliberate awkwardness that I use to push your buttons until you fuck the attitude out of me.

This is something different.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, gently brushing my cheek with your fingertips.

“We can’t do this today. It’s just too risky. You can have anything else, any other part of me. But not this.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I’m mid-cycle,” I explain as my cheeks flush with embarrassment. “It’s probably the riskiest day of the whole bloody month.”

For a minute, you say nothing.

But you do, however, continue to rub your dick, which is now rock-solid, against my pussy, pressing against the entrance before sliding back up.

Teasing me.

Tempting me.

“If you want me to stop, I’ll stop,” you inform me after what feels like an eternity.

“We should stop.”

“Say it then.”

“I’m sorry… but it’s not a good idea.”

“Say the word and I will stop.”

I bite my lip, trying hard to ignore the feeling of your erection nudging against my opening.

“We shouldn’t…”

“It’s your call.”

“It might not be a huge risk,” I say. “But it is still a risk.”

That’s when you lean down and whisper in my ear.

“But admit it; it’s a risk that turns you on. You want this as much as I do, don’t you?”

You pull up my mask and stare into my eyes, knowing that I cannot lie to you.

I look back at you, holding your gaze as I try to find the words.

I’m shaking when I finally speak.

“Yes,” I reply in earnest. “Yes, I want this.”

Your response is to push yourself into me with one slow, deep thrust that takes my breath away.

Eyes fixed on mine, you take my hands in yours, interlocking our fingers as you enter me again. I feel myself opening for you, stretching for you, as you take me like only you can, filling me with your hardness.

We’ve talked about this scenario so many times and yet nothing could prepare me for the reality of what we are doing right now.

As I’ve said, we both enjoyed the raw, intimate nature of bareback sex right from the beginning; it summed up the essence of the primal nature of us and the caveman/cavegirl dynamic that was building every time we played.

It took several months before I found the nerve to confess to you that I got off on the idea of a deeper meaning to this unprotected copulation. For reasons I could not understand, the concept of mating, conceiving, breeding, seeding, fertilising, impregnating – so many terms for one simple, natural action - seemed almost taboo within the erotic circles we moved in. It seemed grubby, wrong on some levels to desire one of the purest forms of intimacy. Fantasies surrounding this topic always seemed to centre around revenge, humiliation, or control; it would take a journey into another realm to find the positive connotations that opened a new door for me.

So when you told me that you not only understood this fascination, but you also shared it, I wanted to cry.

Correction: I did cry. Tears of relief, of acceptance, of feeling understood.

I had a whole heap of issues around my feelings on the subject, which I was reluctant to open up about. Past guilt, shame, and years of repressed pain would overwhelm me when I least expected it. But, right from that first conversation, you were adamant that we were on this intimate journey together and that you would hold my hand throughout. Whilst most people would’ve opted for finding a new fantasy, or even a new lover, you patiently waited for me to begin healing old wounds before taking me to new levels of sexual paradise, resulting in some of the most incredible orgasms I have experienced in my life.

The turning point was when we uncovered the hidden meanings in all of this. Your desire to impregnate me was based on giving me an infinite piece of the greatest part of yourself, a drop of your masculine power, essence, and spirit, which would remain with me forever. For me, the seed that I craved from you to plant inside me was one of hope. That in our most spectacular moments, you could flood me with your energy, allowing the parts of me that died years ago to be reborn, to grow, and to flourish.

I don’t just want your seed inside me, I need it.

I shift my full focus into my body, feeling every detail of your cock as it plunges in and out of me. I’m still soaking wet from earlier and I can hear the erotic sound of every thrust. I squeeze you with my pussy muscles, giving you even more delicious friction.

Your nails are digging into the backs of my hands as you grip tightly, pinning me down underneath you as you make love to me and fuck me in equal measures. I pull my legs up around your waist, pulling you deeper into me, my own possessive gesture.

You’re mine as much as I am yours.

Our bodies feel perfectly in tune with each other right now. I can feel virility dripping from your every pore; you can feel my ripeness rippling through me in waves, imploring you to dive right in.

The bed shakes as you pound me into the mattress. The headboard bangs against the wall, revealing our secrets to anyone within earshot. We don’t care though. All we care about is each other, this moment, the tantalising prospect that we are about to create our own piece of eternity.

As I feel you begin to speed up, I know that you will cum hard; I can tell from the look in your eyes that you will fill me with everything you have to give.

Your lips find mine for one last time as you sink down into me, growling and groaning as you pump me full of your seed.

I lie there, hips locked around your waist as I gratefully extract every drop from you.

Every drop of my lover, each one a tiny, symbolic gift from you to me.

I can barely breathe, but I manage to force out the words, my voice barely a whisper.

“Thank you, my love.”

You slowly withdraw and then take me into your arms, holding me tight, knowing that it’s what I need right now. Our bodies are hot and sticky, but we press them together as we cuddle in silence before falling back into a much-needed sleep.

When we wake a few hours later, we’re back in the spoons position with you nestled against my back, a protective arm wrapped around me, holding my hand. Your other hand is resting gently on my stomach. I realise the unspoken meaning behind this gesture; whatever has happened between us today, your hand will still be holding mine after.

It’s one of the most perfect moments of my life.

I lie quietly for a while longer, letting you rest whilst I try to commit every detail of this encounter to my memory.

“Everything okay?” you sleepily murmur against my ear.

“Very okay, thank you. You?”

“Also, very okay. As you can probably tell.”

I smile as I realise that you’re referring to your cock, buried between my soft, warm, fleshy thighs and getting firmer by the minute.

“Not again,” I tease. “We’re not taking any more risks today, thank you very much!”

“You need to stop worrying.”

“Yeah, I know. I mean, it’s got to be a pretty slim chance, all things considered. Probably about one in a million or – “

I’m interrupted as you flip me onto my front and pull me up onto all fours.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I gasp.

“Cutting the odds to two in a million,” you reply, not missing a beat as you attempt to jam my thighs apart with your knee. “Now whose phone shall we record it on this time?”