6 comments/ 44354 views/ 11 favorites Best Friends, Better Friends By: Crazeems This one is a romance loosely based on a couple of friends from work who are in each others lives and insist they are just mates; well Sarah and Gary (names changed... a bit...) are perfect for each other and they are the only two people that don't know;, I'll let Sarah take up her imaginary story. This is my first romance, please be gentle... My Divorce from my husband had not been good. He was convinced all of the time that I was to blame, for everything. I had left him twice before but he had convinced me to go back. The last time he hit me, and that was that. He did his usual 'look what you've driven me to' and stormed off melodramatically. I knew that in half and hour he'd be back crying, begging me not to do it again. This time I was ahead of him and piled the kids, as many of my clothes, their clothes, towels and toothbrushes and as I could fit into the car and drove away. I went to the next nearest town, pulled into a Travel Lodge and that was that. Two nights later I went to a mate's house and then two days later to my parents. We stayed there while everything was sorted and he bought me out of the house, demanded my car, which unfortunately was registered in his name, and pleaded for me to return again; this time when he got angry, my six foot eight soon to retire police officer father was stood just behind me listening and came to my rescue quoting at least four crimes that he could have my Ex arrested for their and then. He sloped away like a nine year old arguing about bedtimes while my wonderful Dad told me just to let him know if 'that arsehole' ever came at me like it again. But after a month or so, with the generosity of friends and colleagues, we were moving into a new house and starting our life all over again. My Ex only contacted me to discuss the first few weekends with the children. As soon as the new woman entered his life that stopped also. The kids' resilience was fantastic and they came through it. After about a year he stopped contacting me or the children and played the part of being well rid of us – I understood that she was pregnant within a few months. His money continued to arrive by direct debit with the occasional stop. But to be honest I was virtually OK without it. Two years on, all was going well; the kids were settled again and looking forward to Christmas, the mortgage was arranged and being paid on time and it was all looking good. Being the party season my parents of course offered to babvsit their beloved and wholly spoilt (at least when they were with them) grandchildren and I had a few nights away out with my team, the last being the obligatory office do. We were all getting a bit tipsy, and dancing. In the corner of the room was Gary, one of the guys of the office, he was my age, slightly taller and quite above average looking. He was wearing what my Dad called 'the thousand yard stare' – looking into the room but miles away. The beer bottle he'd been given was still three quarters full and he didn't seem to be talking to anyone. One of the girls said that we should go get him and make him cheer up. I told them not to and that Gary was fine; he was actually far from fine. His wife had almost died from cancer; that is the MRSA she got from a mastectomy operation killed her first. Gary had nursed her and cared for his two children, one of whom suffered with cerebral palsy. Liking his privacy he'd only told the boss, who told no one else. Gary got in later and went home early, the bags under his eyes got bigger and we found ourselves with more and more of his cases. Eventually an email came round that he had taken a fortnights leave at short notice. Some of the team grumbled at that; they'd never be allowed that much leeway and some felt that we'd been carrying him for the last few months. Finally, after one of the nastier... OK gobbier girls in the office had grumbled at Mike the team leader, he burst out, "His wife has just died! That make you feel any fucking different?" The office went silent; Mike never lost his temper or shouted – at anyone. He walked to the middle of the room, "Guys, I would have had to tell you sometime so it might as well be now; Some of you will remember Carole, Gary's wife. She died on Friday evening, she had tumours of almost everything and apparently one of those superbugs did what the cancer couldn't. Gary doesn't want a fuss made or a collection for flowers; but if it's all the same I going to have a collection and send it to the Hospice she was staying in." He did and we all put in to it; everyone in the team felt for him, he was such a nice guy, kind and generous and a great sense of humour. A few of the single girls had eyes for him, but no one wanted to be the first. It was ten months since he'd lost her and his sad and lost look made me want to go over and talk to him. "Hi Gary," I said with a smile, "you driving I suppose?" "Yes," he said smiling back, "Paul is with my Mum and she struggles to put him to bed sometimes, so I'm on duty tonight." "My Mum has the girls," I said, "so I'm almost free, but I can't do all of this anymore." I looked at my rum and Coke which was actually almost all Coke. We chatted and watched the party go on around us, until he said that he had to go. A check of my watch and the heat of the room had me ready to leave as well. "Do you want a lift?" he asked. My house was not far from his parents place. I thanked him and said that I would, I hadn't booked a taxi and the buses were unbelievable at that time of night. We drove home discussing what our various plans were and what we had bought our children, and how great it was. But as he stopped at a set of lights he looked at me and said, "Yeah but it is a bastard doing it all on your own isn't it." "Yes," I said, "It bloody well is." We then had a general discourse on the shortcomings of doing everything on your own and having to rely on babysitters, and once you had sorted everything you were always to tired to go anywhere and everything was based around couples, after all going for a nice meal on your own was always so boring. "I'm luckier than most," he said, "Paul goes into respite every fourth weekend and I get a live-in sitter on a Thursday once a fortnight." He paused, "she saved my sanity. He stopped talking, and it was one of those too quiet for too long, moments. "When did you last go to the pictures?" He said boldly. "I can't remember," I said, "it's a shame because I want to see the last of the Lord of the Rings Trilogy on the big screen." "So do I," he said, "How about we go on the Thursday between Christmas and New year, that's if you're free of course." As it happened I was. "Great!" "We can grab a burger in Frankie and Benny's afterwards." "Fantastic!" With that we were entering my road, we swapped mobile numbers and I said I'll call him once I'd sorted a sitter. And so we went to the pictures; having something to look forward to was great, even my Dad noticed the change in me next morning. And being a man was satisfied with the 'going to the pictures with a mate from work', gender irrelevant. And so we went, the film was brilliant and it was so much nicer being with someone else. We went through the shopping village until we found the restaurant and we ate a mountain of food and had a laugh, probably the first one we'd had in ages. As he dropped me home, he made apologies that he couldn't come in and meet my parents but his babysitter would turn into a pumpkin at midnight as she had a party to go to and he'd promised she could finish early. With no more than a 'See you at work – next year!' we parted. Meeting at work we chatted in the way we always did, saying how good the film had been and how we had both eaten to much. He asked if I wanted to go and see another film, which was plastered all of the billboards in a weeks' time; he did and again didn't want to go on his own. I said I would and that I would drive this time. And so it became a regular thing, once a month or so we'd take turns in driving and go to the cinema then have a meal, or just have a meal if there was nothing good on. It was still a secret in the office, and we both made sure it stayed that way only discussing our outings on the phone in the evenings. We became close friends, and would discuss everything and anything, but in a matey kind of way. When we were out, we were often treated as a couple and it was nice, and neither of us complained. I'd peck him on the cheek when we parted for the evening it was sort of a big brother/little sister king of thing. Invited out to a leaving party, I became the object of a nasty little squirts attention. Gary noticed and grinned a big grin and whispered, "Sarah, come here..." he put an arm around my waist, smiled down into my face, "No problem," he grinned putting his chin to mine to whisper in my ear, "He's gone." Indeed, the squirt had taken one look at Gary's impressive frame and proprietary attitude, he'd gone back to the bar and his mates. From that night Gary became my F.O.G. or 'fuck off guy'. I explained this context to some of the girls in the office and that was enough for them. A few even commented that I should make him my boyfriend for real! As that long summer drew into a warm and balmy June, I received an invite from my University for a Centenary ball, and I was very tempted to go but wasn't sure. If I was going there was one guy I knew I could rely on to come with me. Chatting with Gary over our Thursday meal, he said that he was going to have a weekend away on his next respite weekend and planned to do some camping and fishing in the West Country. "I'm going to my old Uni' that weekend," I said, "It's the centenary of the department I was in and being star pupil they've asked me back." Synchronicity reared its unplanned head again – it was his weekend off in August. "Cool!" he said, "I'm going to see my sister in Glastonbury. Half an hour away." "Do you have a dinner jacket?" I asked. "Yes," "Would you escort me to my Summer ball?" "It would be an honour," he said with a grin, and it was 'Outlooked' into our diaries. They days passed and we didn't discuss the ball until the Thursday night before the event on Saturday. "I've had my suit cleaned especially," he said, and I told him what I'd bought and eventually gave him the notes from the University on where he needed to be and at what time. I was waiting by the square in my frock that had stretched my credit card to its limit and wondering where he was in all of the line of cars I could see lining up to drop off the many guests that were arriving. Not seeing his tall Volkswagen I began to wonder if he really had made it, thinking irritably about the noisy motorcycle jumping the queue along the outside of the line of cars. It pulled over parked by some smaller bikes and the owner swung his leg over the back and pulled off his helmet – it was Gary. He stashed his helmet in a box on the back and smiled. Next he peeled off a form fitting leather jacket which he stowed next to the helmet. "Thought you'd never make it," I said, trying really hard to keep the peevishness out of my voice. "Don't get to bring the hog out that often these days," he said with a grin "Sorry, I'll buy you a pint once we get inside to make up for it." Pulling his jacket down and straightening his bow tie, finally happy with the result, "Mam," he said extending and arm. I smiled, and slipped my arm through his. Although we had been out on 'mate dates' dozens of times, this time seemed different. I could feel the solid muscle of his arm through the suit, and I had to admit he did look very good in it. Mind you, I hadn't been lazy, my tailored and lightly boned dark blue satin dress reached my black strappy sandals, the string of my knicks would give nothing away either as the clever designer, a local girl, had built some detailing in to that part of the dress on purpose to hide the tell tale bit at the back. We headed for the uniformed waiters and waitresses and I gave our names. We were welcomed in, handed champagne flutes and we moved into the huge refectory dining room that looked palatial compared to how I'd last seen it seventeen odd years ago. I instantly spotted friends. We'd been discussing this evening over email and Facebook and my three best mates were already waiting in the main hall, two of them with their partners. We all cheered and hugged and kissed cheeks and looked each other up and down, we'd all of us had at least two children to thank for sags and bags on our figures. I introduced Gary as a good friend from work that had been kind enough to escort me. David, the husband of Davina shook hands with him and asked if he could get him a drink. Gary smiled and nodded and asked for a Coke. David worked his way around the crowd and achieved a right list, so Gary offered to go with him and help carry them. The second he was gone, all three girls where on me. "Shit! Sarah!" said Davina, by far the noisiest of the group, "he's a 'friend'? Jesus," she breathed out, straightening her not insubstantial cleavage, "If I had a mate like that I'd be out with him, or should I say 'in' with him every evening. He's not gay is he?" "No!" I made to slap her wrist, "He recently lost his wife," I admonished, "Go easy on him." "Given half a chance I would," said Davina, looking across at Gary and her husband at the bar. "Will you look at the arse on him," she giggled, "like two hardboiled eggs in a handkerchief." Everyone laughed, but I had to admit, in the arse department, Gary was very well supplied. While he and David waited, they both turned and waved indicating the queue. Gary winked. Not rude, not lascivious, but more than enough to make my toes curl. For the first time I consciously noticed his dark brown hair with only a hint of grey at the temples, his dark blue, soulful, heart breaker eyes and his broad chest and slim waist. I winked back, my heart beating just the tiniest bit faster. He came back with a white wine spritzer, one of my favourite drinks. He sipped his Coke, the way he always had it, slice of lime, no ice. He dipped his head to one side to whisper in my ear, "Sorry about that mate," he said, "didn't mean to walk off and leave you alone straight away." I waved a hand to indicate it was fine. He sipped his Coke, "Still gave you all a chance to talk about me I suppose." I giggled, fighting the urge to explain exactly what the discussion had been! The bell rang and we slowly made our way to the long trestle tables that were laid along the huge room, with benches and forms rather than tables and chairs. All of the ladies struggled with their long dresses but that was how my college had done this event for a hundred years and the men were kind enough to help their ladies and not comment on the sudden exposure of a few hundred white thighs and stocking tops, although I was lucky we had the very end of the table. Gary was sat opposite me and smiled. The food was splendid; typical of the kind of dinners that the college always had. Twice a year, every year for three years. Cheap to students, expensive to teaching staff and free to the few minor royals and celebs they got along to grace the high table. After almost two hours worth of food and fantastic wine, (something else that my college was famous for) and some really sweet chat from Gary about a whole range of subjects and joining in comfortably with our banter, the dean announced that the food was over and the ladies could rise and take their ease. He joked that this was only the third time he was unable to ask the gentleman if they wished to partake in cigars, but the smoking ban was still fresh in everyone's minds and a change for the better all round. The large doors at the south end of the hall were opened and the French windows at the other were as well. The fresh air lifted everyone's senses and refreshed the atmosphere. Most headed for the gardens or to the bar. We made for the bar and Gary had his standard Coke. "They have a few spare rooms if you did want to drink," I said. "Well," he said, "S'pose I could. I haven't hung one on in years." "You little devil," I said moving closer to him and bashing him with my shoulder. "Gotta go mad sometime," he said. "Does Mum have the kids tonight?" "Just my daughter," he said, "Paul is with the sitter and off to a centre for the weekend. Horse riding, electric buggies, swimming, the whole thing." "How did you swing that!" I said. He looked wistfully but with a big smile, "Those wonderful social services people have got me an entire weekend respite, first time EVER!" He made a grand gesture swinging his arm around; it was a move most unlike him and showed a lack of control that I'd never seen in him, and I started to get the impression the alcohol was taking effect. "A pint of Stella Gary?" said David. "I think he's had enough David," I said. "Have I?" said Gary. "Yes mate," I crooked an arm through his and led him to the French windows for some much needed and revitalising air. "Your not used to it mate," I said, "and I don't want to have to carry you home and put you to bed." He smiled and shook his head. "Sorry honey," he said, 'just the atmos', nothing else honest." He looked around the Victorian courtyard and sighed, "Almost makes me wish I'd been to University," he said looking around him. "Didn't you?" I queried. "OU," he said, "my money, my time, my achievement. Dead proud still." He smiled. "Nothing against you privileged classes of course." "Cheek," I said in mock brusqueness, "I didn't stop paying of my student loan for five years." "Your own fault," he said leaning forward, "if you hadn't spent four years of your life getting pissed and going to wild parties you wouldn't have run up such a debt." "Wild parties? I wish," I retorted. "Come on Sarah, a little darling like you? You must have been beating them off with a shitty stick with a nail in." "White wine spritzer, Coke, chilled, lime no ice," said David handing us our drinks. I thanked him in time to hear the small orchestra start to play. "Come on," I said, "show me how a commoner can dance." With drinks in hands we glided around the hall, him with one hand on my waist, me holding him around the neck. Davina and David were dancing just across from us, she mouthed 'go on then' at me. I thought about our friendship and having to work together and everything. "Oh Yes!" I raised my glass at him, "Soooooo, a little darling, do you think?" It took me a second to realise that I'd said it! "What, and you don't think you are?" "Well, I'm... OK I suppose..." He smiled and giggled but in a nice way. "Sarah, you are, and I mean this in the nicest possible way, fucking gorgeous, I mean look at you." "What?" "Somehow you've managed to wrap that perfect satin around your perfect figure, everyone is looking at you," he nodded around. I turned my head in time to see a few dozen men all look back at their partners and friends. "You have," he said, sipping his Coke, "THE finest arse in the ENTIRE organisation." "What?" I said with an embarrassed squeak, "Really?" "Really," he said with a grin pulling me a little bit tighter to him, "Lisa has a very nice package altogether, but her arse isn't a patch on yours." Lisa was the office hottie, a wonderful, bright bubbly highlighted blonde haired little thing with a heart of gold and a sense of fun to match. I knew that the eyes of most of the male officers on my floor followed her body around the room, and she never seemed to mind a bit. So, I was letched after too was I? He must have figured I needed more info and was kind enough to provide it. "On a scale of one to ten your bottom has to be a nine and half, highest rated in the firm." Best Friends, Better Friends "Why only nine and a half," I pouted. "Impossible to reach, a ten," he said pretending to look philosophical. In a move that still shocks me to this day, I grabbed his hand at the small of my back and dragged it the few inches to rest on the gentle curve of my bottom. "There," I said, "You can reach it now, what do you think?" "Shit," he said looking deep into my eyes and squeezing my bottom at the same time, "Ten," he said squeezing slightly then pausing to stroke me through the silk of my dress, "ten without question." We danced closer, pausing only to move to an adjacent table to put down our almost empty glasses. We stared into each others eyes and we both gently added both arms into what was becoming a gentle and romantic slow dance. As the band played 'I only have eyes for you' he smiled gently at me and clutched my now free left hand to his shoulder. I noticed that at no point did he take his hand from my bottom though! It was so gentle and 'nice', I had certainly never experienced a dance like this. Although my ex and I met at Uni', he was one of the Rugby team and ladies, if they knew what was best for them were out of the Rugby team dinners by midnight before they started to strip and sing those appalling songs that weren't even risqué when their grandfathers had sung them during the war. The dreadful bar games left nothing to the imagination either. But here, this tall handsome man, a week younger than me as it turned out, was making me feel like a nineteen year old on a first date. The chat started again, and we worked our way around the dance floor, taking various couples apart and guessing what they were talking about by their facial expression, speech and posture. It was good fun. Again, at no time did he take his hand off of my bottom. The heat from his hand through the satin was such that it was almost like his hand was straight onto my skin. I decided I didn't mind at all. The music finished and eased into 'a nightingale sang in Berkley Square' – all very old stuff but for some reason the crowd, who were well set up by the excellent wines, responded to them without complaint. I knew from memory that the tempo would increase in half an hour and the rock and roll would start, then the band would finish and a disco would take over. I decided to make the most of clinging to this hunk of a bloke for as long as I could. Before I knew what was happening the lights went up slightly and everything stopped. We all applauded and the band bowed and walked off of stage. The bar was busy again and we headed to the coolness of the veranda. In the loo I was immediately set upon by Davina, "Well?" "Well what?" I replied. "Him, the widow, you've just spent the last three quarters of an hour dancing around the floor with his left hand glued to your arse, what d'ya mean 'Well what'! Come on, spill." "Oh," I said blushing, "Well, we were chatting about bottoms and he... it's a long story Davina, but to cut it short, Yes, given the chance I think I might..." Davina screamed! "You GO Sarah!" she growled patting me none to softly on the back, "I'll hold your handbag for you," she grinned. "At least he should know the effect he's having on you look." She said nodding down. The reason for some of the looks I had been getting became more obvious – my normally well-behaved nips were poking through the thin silky satin and the light cotton lining the dressmaker had put in, leaving nothing to the imagination. I coughed, smiled, and laughed off the moment, pulled the dress off of my chest, made a great play of looking down and said, "well done girls." Davina laughed and put a light hand on my shoulder, "go get him Darling," she said, "do you both the world of good." I winked back at her, checked my makeup and lippy and headed back out into the room. Gary was stood at the bar with David with a couple more drinks, one of which was a pint and a short glass. Oh no, just as I had get my head around going somewhere with this fine man he starts on the beer and chasers. David downed his chaser, and encouraged Gary to do the same. His was dark brown and suggested something and coke. David roared uproariously much in the same way his wife had a few minutes ago and slapped him on the back. Gary chuckled and sipped his beer. "What's up?" he said. I realised that my expression was perhaps a bit obvious. I folded my arms and half smiled at him. He shrugged his shoulders and sipped some more beer. I stood slightly away from him and his face let me know he was reading my body language in no uncertain terms. "Sarah," he said, indicating with his head I should move closer. I stood still. The last thing I wanted was another night on the piss with drunken men, I'd had enough of that in this room to last a lifetime. He slipped a hand around my waist and pulled me closer. I tried to resist. He handed me his almost empty short glass. "I don't want..." I pulled away from the glass thinking he wanted me to drink with him. "Sniff!" he said in slightly raised voice. I took the glass and sniffed, "Coke," he said, and put the glass down, picking up the pint. "Taste," he said. I took a sip. "It's non-alcoholic lager with lemonade to bulk it out a bit, Me and the barman are mates." He winked at the two men behind the bar and they held up thumbs and winked back. It transpired that he'd had a chat with them at the start of the evening about not wanting to get drunk. They were handing him special glasses that looked like booze and would be enough to keep the most hardened drinkers off of his case. "Like I said, two glasses of wine. A gallon of Coke and the top of a pint of non alcoholic lager honey, that's all." He smiled the sweetest smile at me, "I'm enjoying myself just being out with you - why would I need to get drunk?" I grinned back like a Cheshire cat, and leaned forward to kiss him on the mouth. There was nothing I could have done to stop myself if I'd wanted to. He met the kiss, warm and full mouthed. It was the first passionate kiss I'd had since well before the break-up. As it turned out it was his as well. My arms crept around his neck, and his wound around my waist, with his other hand slipping down to cup the other cheek of my bottom that had so far missed all the attention. "I take it all back," he whispered as we broke for a breath, "Your arse is an eleven out of ten, no question." I noticed out of the corner of my eye, that the group of people we were with were watching us in a not watching kind of way, and smiling and making small talk, which MUST have been about us. We broke the clinch, both with huge Cheshire cat grins on our faces. The conversation began again, but Gary and I remained glued together like a couple of love struck teenagers. "Well," said Davina with a real genuine smile, "being the up-front kind of bitch that I am, ordinarily I'd be the first to tell you two to 'get a room' but," she raised her wine glass in salute, "I know that Sarah already has one." She took a long sip, "Gary, if you don't drag this devastatingly attractive, single woman away so she can prove just how much she's into you then, so help me, I'll beat you to death with your own erection." I looked down and saw the definite bulge I had been pushing myself against for the last twenty minutes. Davina leaned forward and kissed me lightly on the cheek, then Gary. "Good night sweet things," she smiled, raising her glass and pulling at her husband's arm, 'And may flights of angels sing thee, a bit half sharpish, to thy rest." She indicated to the rest of the group that they should follow and leave us alone. My arms were around him and his around me. We both smiled and opened our mouths to speak when the DJ started the first song. It was 'I just wanna make love to you,' the song from the diet Coke ad. "D'you think she tipped the DJ," Gary said over the din. "Who cares," I said, "either that or he's a mind reader." "Would you like to dance some more, or..." "Or what?" I said with a grin, placing my arms around his neck again. "Or we grab a bottle of something light, refreshing and sparkly and have a pleasant moonlight stroll." "I like the sound of that," I said. A moment later, and we were exiting through the French doors and out into the cool night air, arm in arm, with a bottle of Asti Spumante for company. I led Gary on a journey of rediscovery for me, and wandered through the college gardens nodding to a few other couples and groups sat around on lawns and on small banks and clustered around metal tables on metal chairs that hadn't changed since I left all those years ago. I rested my head on his shoulder as we walked, just chatting idly. Just sweet nothings meant only to delay the moment when we had to face up to our own feelings and our lust for each other! The sound of the disco was barely audible and the light chatter of other guests just sailing over the hedges and borders as Gary stopped and slipped off his jacket, laying it on a bank for me to sit on. I protested, but he insisted saying that no way could he allow a dress as perfect as mine to get anything so terrible as a grass stain on it. As he made to sit, I grabbed him and kissed him, forcing my tongue into his mouth. "If you like," I said breathlessly, "we could go to my room and I can take it off, only fair, seeing as you've started to undress already." "Sarah," he said rubbing my back and bottom with agonising tenderness, "are you absolutely sure about this?" "Aren't you?" "Oh fuck yeah," he gasped, "but I still want to be able to look you in your most delectable face tomorrow morning." "My room is just down here," I said pulling him towards the red brick rooms that had aged perfectly. "OK," he said, "where have you hidden the key; if was in that dress, I'd be able to see it for sure." I smiled, reached up to a small doorframe and picked a small brass Yale key polished to a gold-like aura by years of use. "Aah," he said, "The place no one would think of looking." He walked along two or three doors and found the keys in the same place, "Thank God you lot are all so well educated." I unlocked the door, and saw my blue jeans, Gap T-shirt, pale blue bra and matching bikini knicks all still dumped on the bed where I'd thrown them not four hours ago. "Oh," I blustered, "don't mind them," I said walking to the metal casement windows. "Must bring back the whole 'being a student' thing, bet the kitchen is full of white label bread, beans and spaghetti hoops." I turned to him and put my hands on my hips, "Have you been in here already?" I walked across the room to him pausing to pick up two plastic 'glasses' for the wine. He had placed his dinner jacket over a chair and had undone his bow tie and let in hang around his neck. It was a real one! The two plastic cups I had got were dropped to the bed and I almost ran to him, putting my arms around his neck and snogging him. He gasped for breath, "Bloody hell honey, I only put my jacket down!" I explained that I'd always had a huge crush on James Bond actors; well Pierce Brosnan and Daniel Craig to be exact; I started to tell him that while I was in the latter stages of my last pregnancy I'd read a magazine article about Daniel Craig which had the photo of him with the wet white shirt and the bow tie undone around his neck. "And you used to masturbate yourself crazy to it?" he said very matter of factly. "God yes," I sighed, stroking hands along his chest. "Hormones are terrible things," he said with a grin. "Yes," I said with a sigh, "but I don't have that excuse for this evening, at least not pregnancy ones." He laughed and kissed me again. "I'll leave the thing on then," he said, "I may not be Daniel Craig but it's only fair you do the same for me..." I stepped back from him lightly placing my hands on his chest and tiptoeing up just a tiniest bit to peck him lightly on the lips. Then I pushed him back into the armchair that looked out over the moonlit lawns beneath. "Open the wine," I said, with more confidence than I actually felt. He smiled and undid the foil around the top of what was actually a very good, not to sweet, Asti Spumante. As he began to undo the wire holding the cork, I undid the tiny hidden zip that had nestled beneath my arm all evening. Watching his efforts I dropped the shoulder straps down my arms so I was holding the dress over my hips and against my braless boobs. "Excuse me a moment," I said, turning my back to him. I saw that the wire had joined the foil on the small coffee table. Knowing that his concentration would be on the cork and the need to stop it flying out I let my perfect, super expensive (For me anyway) dress fall to the ground and clad only in my pale blue string knicks and my killer heels, I turned to face him, my folded arms covering and cupping my boobs, my nipples pushing urgently into my palms. In a perfect Bond moment that was timed to perfection, he could only stare stunned at me, as the cork popped and some of the Asti poured suggestively out of the bottle. He stood up. I stalked closer to him using one hand to reach down for the glasses, the other staying in place to hold my now tingling boobs. When I was within a breath's distance, I smiled, "Ah Mr Bond," I said finally taking a glass in each hand and wrapping both arms around his neck, "I've been expecting you..." My bare breasts rubbed against his chest as we kissed with a passion even stronger than before. One of his strong arms wrapped around me pulling me hard into him, his erection almost throbbing against my tummy through his trousers. We broke eventually for air, out of sheer necessity. His hand left my waist and settled at last on the virtually bare cheek of my arse. I kissed him again. My arms were now resting against his chest, and he lifted the bottle to carefully pour the now settled wine into the glasses I was holding level. "So," he sighed, looking closely at my breasts for the first time, "what happens next in your fantasy?" "Oh," I said, "Well..." I was cut short as he poured a splash of Asti onto my right boob. "Oh, excuse me," he said putting the bottle down, "Let me get that." He dipped slowly and extending his tongue, licked from just under the erect tip of me, loving over the nipple and in several long swathes over me. I gasped as the he paid closer attention to my breast than anyone had in more than two years. It was fantastic. All too soon he lightly drew his lips over my nip gently sucking and pulling back, not quite biting but enough to add just enough spice. He stood straight, and took one of the glasses I had been struggling hard not to spill, "To us," he said, raising the glass slightly. "To... us," I gasped in an almost whisper, leaning back into him to crush my slightly damp boobs against him again. He downed his glass in one, and placed it by the bottle, I did likewise, and smiling into his face, delighted at the grin I got in return. "What I WAS going to say, before you interrupted me, was that Mr Bond gets very well looked after, I started to unbutton his shirt from the neck and slid a hand under to rub through the course hair on his chest. I lightly kissed his cheek, and dropped to my knees before him; feeling him flinch as I touched his trouser fly, I added in a whisper, "Very VERY well looked after..." Reaching in I found his boxers and pulled them down over him to allow his erection its freedom. Pulling it free of the constriction I finally gazed on what was the finest specimen I had ever seen and just as a guess must have reached 7 or more inches out from his groin. "This is wonderful," I said gazing at it, before looking up into his shocked face, "is this all for me?" He smiled and nodded. "Oh yeah." Lightly pumping on its length, I reached inside his trousers and felt for his balls, gently lifting them free. While I wanted him to be comfortable, part of my pregnancy wank fantasy was for my Mr Bond to be dressed – dressed and stood over me while I was knelt naked before him but for my shoes as I blew him to orgasm! I licked him from the base of his penis up along the shaft pausing to lick around the head, tasting the tiny pearl of moisture that sprang from the slit at the end. I dragged my tongue down again hearing him gasp for the seventh or eighth time in the last minute. My tongue travelled back up until I slid the purple head between my lips and into my mouth, sucking my cheeks in and flicking my tongue over his crown. Finally I began to fuck him with my mouth, letting my tongue rub aver the sensitive join beneath his helmet. He groaned at each pump of my mouth, and I gently massaged his balls, while holding one the other hand against his groin at the base of him, that hand would start to wank this monster as soon as I was ready to receive him. I started to rock my head back and forth over his cock, enjoying the heat and the control I had over him. That was the thing though, my fantasy was for his hands to be either side of my head and fucking my mouth. "Sarah," he gasped, "Be careful, I don't think I can..." I pulled off of him wanking his saliva wet prick firmly, "Oh, don't worry about that, Mr Bond," I said, "I'm ready for absolutely anything you might want to do with me, or to me for that matter - no need to hold back... anything." I closed my eyes, fed the head of his penis back into my mouth and sucked, pumping harder with my fist, I wanted him to come in my mouth! As if he was reading my mind, with a groan he placed both hands either side of my face, and started to fuck my mouth keeping enough of a gentle rhythm to enjoy himself and still fulfilling everything I had dreamed about. Almost without realising it, my hand that had been massaging his balls had snaked down under the elastic of my knicks and was massaging my sopping clit, flicking lightly but firmly over the bud and the sensitive flesh around it. "Shit..." I heard him gasp as his thrusts stopped and he pushed forward into my mouth as far as the hand wanking him would allow. The swollen head released its treasure and I tasted his salty semen as it squirted onto my tongue, and hard against the back of my throat. My slight gagging had him pulling out of my mouth, just in time to squirt his last rope of come against my lips and chin. I continued wanking him, drawing the last life from him and licking it like nectar. "There," I said swiping my tongue out as far as it would go, "Was that OK?" For an answer he reached down and lifted me to my feet almost without effort. "Sarah, that was fantastic, thank you," pulled me into a hug and kissed me, right where his come had splashed me a few moments before. "You are most welcome," I slipped my arms around his neck, and kissed him back, feeling his hands all over my back. "Wow," he said, "A small glass of something while I recover and before I return the compliment." He waved his hand towards the small bed indicating that I should sit, while he refilled both glasses of the still fizzy wine. I took mine and laid back on the bed kicking off my shoes that, while turning me on like hell, had actually started to dig in a bit! He undressed himself without haste, kicking off shoes, and sliding down his trousers to leave them as a black mess on the floor. Finally he shed his white shirt and tie and moved across to the bed to sip his wine and sit next to me. His torso was quite splendid and I rubbed a hand across his chest, revelling in the short wiry hair, my ex was always a bit of a pretty boy and always had his waxed – not sure if that was what made me like it. He smiled pleasantly and leaned over me and kissed me on the lips. "Hmm, this is nice," he said sipping gently and stroking my hair, "Chilled wine, chilled Gary and a naked goddess on the bed," Best Friends, Better Friends I couldn't hold in my girlish giggle, it had been one of those nights and all we could do was sit there and beam at each other, and so far we hadn't actually made love. He downed the last of his wine and leaned over me again, kissing my face, neck, shoulders, chest until he reached my breasts again. This time he didn't take things as gently as he'd done before. He kissed and then started to suck heavily on my sensitive, erect nipples. I started to gasp, all of my boyfriends soon realised that my nips were something a bit special in love making. OK, I'm not one of those girls that can come just with them being suckled but, Jesus, it just turns me on no end. While his mouth was actively engaged with my breasts, I felt strong hands rubbing my thighs, a sensual massage that started with the flat of his hands over most of my legs until I felt very knowing fingers softly rubbing across my mound. The amazingly sexual atmosphere had meant that I was more than ready 'down there' and my brief play with my clit while I blew him told me that I was appropriately wet and swollen for any work that might need doing in that region. His fingers moved first to my clitoris, carrying out a brief but full tour of my puss. His hand gently pulled the slightly moist gusset of my stringy knicks, his last barrier to the part of me that had missed attention soooo much. In my fantasy they were ripped off but Gary was a connoisseur of underwear and later told me they were waaaay to sexy to trash in the heat of passion. Once he had removed my pretty panties, he started to massage me slowly and beautifully again. He had obviously found what he was looking for as he slowly massaged my labia and clitoris until I was positively purring into his ear. He two fingers slid slowly inside me – and I almost came right then. He had worked on me very slowly building up all of the feeling and tension until the pad of his index finger settled on the front wall of my vagina. A few gentle strokes soon had me writhing as he found my G-spot within seconds of starting his play. By way of confirmation, I was writhing and gasping beneath his ministrations and the first three gasped 'yes's' that burst from my lips told him I was coming before he gently place the pad of his thumb on my clit. Taking a tighter grip on his shoulders I pulled him and rolled so that our lips could meet, as lightning struck, from my uterus all the way through my body until I was unable to do anything but groan into his mouth as the spasms washed over me. I was left a trembling heap beneath him, feeling him stroke my G-spot again and setting me up for my next orgasm before I had got my breath from my first. I continued kissing him feeling that tingle again; in previous relationships I had never wanted to go straight to the second round that early, but tonight was one of those things and I just lay there and let him do what he wished with me and to me. "Oh Gary, Yeah," I gasped into his mouth, "right there Gary, yes, oh shit, yes" and other monosyllables that would let him know I wanted more – much more! And shit, didn't I get much more. I hadn't even read a Cosmo article about multiple orgasms but that night my old college had one more lesson to teach me, I came, and I came, and I came until I pulled his handsome face down and held it to mine as I writhed beneath him. In a little over four minutes I had given up counting at four orgasms, or was it just one long one. He had slid down my body to lap gently at my swollen and pinky wet labia, before his tongue snaked to their apex and he licked, tickled and suckled my swollen clit. Fuck, it was one of those Midas moments, what ever he touched had be gasping, writhing and calling out, finally he kissed his way to my up my body to my tender breasts, and we snoggged again, me tasting myself on his lips, cheeks and chin; I confess I didn't object to the taste. After I had started to relax, he rolled over on top of me and we kissed gently. Like a pair of lovers easy in each others company, It was my turn to say "Wow..." "Christ Gary, that was... shit that was like nothing I've ever..." We just lay there beaming at each other. We settled back to kissing again, just laying together and snogging like a pair of lovestruck teenagers. Eventually it I think it became to much for either of us to put off the discussion any more. "So..." we both said in unison; we giggled, "you first," we both said, again in unison. He held a hand indicating that I should go first. "Gary, do you... err... I don't suppose you have a condom... do you?" I added the last bit hopefully. The fact that as we danced and he stared at my nipples I rubbed against his erection, the little matter of protection seemed to have passed both of us intelligent grown-ups behind. The thought of a hasty re-dressing as someone walked back to the bar and the toilets, and for a machine we hoped would be there and that we could scrape the right money together, loomed. "Better than that," he said, "I have a fine pair of vasectomy scars that are at least five years old this year. I'm a regular blood donor and I haven't slept with anyone other than Carole in fifteen years." I knew he was a blood donor as I had lay next to him at donation sessions in our office canteen several times as I too gave blood. After the necessary discussions, which were way less uncomfortable than I ever thought they could be, were done he just smiled a sweet and understanding smile. "No one but Colin," I said, "sixteen years since." "Well then, Sarah, would you mind awfully if I made love to you?" All I could do was nod in my struggle to hold back the tears stinging the backs of my eyes. "Wouldn't mind at all Gary," I managed to say eventually. "Oh yeah," I said feeling his recovered erection brush across my waist and thighs as I pulled him over me to slide between my open legs. We started to kiss again, as he let part of his weight against me. I raised my thighs a bit to allow him better access feeling the tip of his penis brush against my now sopping puss. "Look, honey, I haven't done this in a few years so..." Stopping him in his tracks with a single finger to his lips I put my other hand to his hip and gently pulled him down until we came together in intimate contact. He gently slid into me, and I gasped feeling that familiar tug as my walls tried to hold him. He just seemed to go on and on, or should I say in and in. My ex had been average size but Gary must have had a few inches on him. He was definitely touching things that only my trusty vibrator had got to before. "Christ," Gary gasped as our groins finally met, "It's just... wow," "First time for me," I said, writhing under him as he withdrew, "I can't tell how much is you being big and how much is me not having had any for two years." "Can't say I'm worried that much," he said, "Just got to concentrate on not coming to quickly." I hugged him, my uterus still throbbing as I remembered the stream of orgasms I'd just had, "Never mind Gary," I said whispering into his ear, "just fuck me." I gasped, as he proceeded to do just that. The bed squeaked and I hoped it would take the punishment as we writhed against each other, both caught up in something so primeval that nothing on earth could have stopped us. Soon, I felt him swell to even bigger than his normal size, and I guessed that he would not last much longer, "Come on Gary, fuck me," I gasped, as he pounded into me, the tip of his penis touching my uterus as we were both so into what we were doing. "Oh Sarah," he gasped dropping lower to kiss me. The change in angle this afforded meant that his final strokes were touching something inside me, I know not what but whatever it was made me come again just in time for it to be splashed with ropes of his semen as his orgasm took him. We gasped together as we both came down, him rolling to one side and pulling me with him and to him – not only was he a fantastic lover, he was a cuddler too! He held me close, and I relaxed into his arms just conscious of his cock slipping from my extremely wet puss. We woke only once in the night, and that was to him pulling the duvet over us as he snuggled into my back holding gently cupping my bottom and my boobs. We woke together as he sun rose through the curtains we had neglected to shut in our haste the previous night. Despite our activities, it soon became obvious that we were both still in the mood, and soon we were at it again, this time me riding his fantastic prick giving me the chance to feel him and move him inside me as it suited. After a glorious orgasm bathed in the early summer sun, he suggested that I get onto my hands and knees, still my all time favourite. But fuck, I had never known doggie like Gary did it, his sheer size meant that my g-spot was constantly being massaged and feeling him behind me, grasping and pulling me back on him by my hips, taking me, had me crying out for my release and getting it as he shot his second load of semen into me. Collapsing onto the bed I knew what it was to be well and truly fucked. He rolled off of me and headed for the on-suite, pausing to switch on the kettle as he passed. As I drifted into sleep for a few moments he showered and returned waking me with a cup of tea, and a clean shaven smile that made my toes curl. "Hey Morning sleepy," he said, with a smile as radiant as it had been the night before, "You sleep well?" "Better than I ever did when I was studying." I said sipping at the steaming lip of my cup. "Can't think why that was," he said nonchalantly. "I've a fairly good idea," I said looking across at his shirt and black bow tie resting on a chair. "I'll have to wear it again sometime," he said drinking his own tea. "Oh you won't have to," I said resting on one elbow and letting the covers fall from my still tingling boobs, "after your performance last night, you could wear a bin bag and I'd fall for you." "I'll bear that in mind." He grinned and taking my cup from me, kissed me long and hard and prolonged, making my whole body tingle this time. "So," I said, taking my cup back from him, "Does this mean that our Thursday night cinema trips could take on a new direction?" "Bugger the cinema," he growled, "I'd much rather have a quiet night in." "Oh yeah," I said, "so long as you are in me." We descended into another passionate clinch only stopped by the sound of life in the corridors as our fellow party goers headed for the refectory and breakfast. I showered at speed and joined him, he had returned to his motor bike and recovered his jeans, t-shirt and trainers. Our entrance, arm in arm, was greeted by some soft sighs from my mates and any amount of blushing from me. Gary headed for the servery for two large plates of everything piled on, while I made for the tea and coffee. Davina noticed my expertise in creating his tea with just milk and no sugar while my black coffee with two went down as his was still brewing. "So," said Davina, "I shan't ask if you enjoyed it, your face says it all. Marks out of ten?" I blushed, "That good?" "Better," I said, "out of ten, I'd have to give him twelve," Davina gasped as I carried on, "In one night of passion he gave more orgasms that Colin did in the last ten years of our marriage. I might hang on to this one for a while." "Oh Sarah," she said giving me a delighted hug. We hung around the college for the rest of the activities until it was time to pack up and go home. We snogged on the bed for a while and made a date to meet in the week, so we wouldn't attract so much attention at work. We made love that night as well; my elaborate plans for dinner sidelined to a pizza ordered by phone that I had to collect dressed in just a towel. The night was only spoiled by him having to go home at two in the morning. That was five years ago, and although we still have our own lives and our own houses, we share our beds as often as we can. My kids are mad about him and his children, and his are fantastic with me and mine, especially young Paul who has made great progress; at the local pools' swimming session for children with special needs one of the helpers handed him over to me from the special lift that lowered him into the water. "There you go mum," said the helper. "Oh, I'm not Mum, I'm a friend of the family," I said slightly embarrassed. She signed something to him in a language I was still trying to learn. "I didn't say it darling," she said to me, "Paul did." He smiled his special smile to me, and it was all I could do not to cry. Gary's house rapidly became a kind of drop in for our extended family, and very crowded. My parents, reading our looks often asked why we don't formalise the thing. I said that I didn't see a need. Eventually, he took me out on one of our nights that we weren't shagging to a large Victorian house, which was for sale roughly between both our places. "What do you think?" he said, as the estate agent let us out into the large conservatory overlooking the huge garden. "Fantastic," I said, "Can you afford it?" "No," he said, "but WE could..." "Wh... what?" "We both could, but," he said dropping to one knee, "you'll have to marry me..." I gasped in shock. "I love you," he said, "I've been in love with you since that first night at the University" I laughed and cried at the same time, finally able to comprehend all of the thoughts I'd been having over the years, "I thought you'd never ask," I said, taking the beautiful diamond solitaire and slipping it over my empty ring finger.