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This is a follow on from “A Christmas Gift…”
This has taken a little bit of writing over the last little while. Apologies for taking so long. It’s a continuation from the story of Ben and Clarissa from “A Christmas Gift But Not For Me”.
I woke with a raging thirst. I had forgotten how the British central heating systems work in winter – not content with taking the chill off, instead making it feel like a saharan heatwave. Add to that the fact that my head was pounding and waves of nausea were washing over me – roiling, sickly. I slowly collected my thoughts, which included trying to find out where I actually was. Plain, white room, white duvet, minimalist everything. Then it drifted through the mire that was my mind – we were at Meghan’s, Clarissa’s best friend from Auckland who had a beautiful, very minimalist house, in New Cross – an up and coming London suburb.
The bed rustled beside me, and Clarissa emerged slowly from the covers.
“Urrrgh.” She offered.
“My thoughts exactly” I responded.
“Nope. Never” I said.
She looked up at me with pleading in her eyes.
“Could you get me pills and water. And coffee?” She put her head back beneath the covers. “And croissants.”
Clarissa was not a great morning person, and after a bottle or two of wine, rich food and insufficient sleep, she was a very, very poor morning person. I, on the other hand – could not sleep in to save myself. No matter what had taken place the night before, I had always, always woken early, which was why my hangovers felt worse than others – I was conscious as my body was trying to heal itself.
I got out of bed and laughed at how well I matched Meghan’s decor. White boxers, white tee shirt, and face as white as a ghost. I held the handrail as I made my way unsteadily down the stairs, and I must have been loud because Meghan’s head appeared out of the kitchen with a concerned look on her face.
“Aha. It was either my guests or drunken baby elephants. Coffee?” Meghan asked?
I nodded as I pulled up a stool at the breakfast nook in her blindingly white kitchen.
“Meghan, this room must be migraine inducing in summer” I said.
Coffee, water and panadol arrived magically before me.
“Well, being sensible, I very seldom get myself into the state that you and your good woman are clearly in this morning.”
I looked up and appraised her properly. She stood at the kitchen sink drinking her water in a way that was obviously part of her morning routine. Meghan was methodical to the extreme, but as she stood on her tip-toes to empty the glass I saw that her well-worn white tee shirt didn’t quite cover her bottom.
“Well, being sensible,” I countered, “those knickers of yours are hardly – ordinary, routine…run-of-the-mill.”
She turned to face me, looking down at the offending garment. She lifted the tee shirt up to give us both a better view. The knickers were translucent black, which showed her red bush beneath very clearly.
“A girl can’t be entirely ordered, can she?” Meghan asked rhetorically. “Now, let’s go and deliver the medicines to the madwoman upstairs.”
She took a fresh glass of water and some pills as I followed her with the coffee. My eyes were fixed on her bottom as it swayed right at eye level as she made her way up the stairs.
“Enjoying the view, Ben?” Asked Meghan, again, rhetorically.
We walked into the guest room to see that Clarissa was still at one with the bedclothes.
“Come on you lazy tart.” Said Meghan.
“Nope. Never.” From under the covers, it was very muffled.
“We have coffee.” Meghan said.
“Who’s we?” Clarissa was deliberately delaying the inevitable.
“Me and your boyfriend who was last seen looking at and through my knickers.” Meghan replied.
There was a giggle and a shake of the bedclothes as Clarissa laughed. She poked her head out of the covers, one eye closed, one squinting.
“Firstly, you harlot – for him to have seen your knickers, you would have to have wanted them to be seen. And for him to have seen through your knickers means you had to have planned it in advance.”
Meghan laughed, but didn’t deny it. Clarissa spied the coffee and seemed to gather some energy, sitting up quickly, revealing that she was wearing nothing on her top half.
“Jesus, Clar, you’ll put someone’s eye out with those things!” exclaimed Meghan, referring to Clarissa’s very erect nipples.
Clarissa looked at me over her coffee. Sipping quickly, she winced at the heat. “How are you coping with all this titillation, Lord Benjamine?”
“I’m fine.” I responded calmly. “However I won’t be getting up any time soon.”
“But you promised croissants!!” Clarissa complained.
“No – you demanded, I never complied. It’s freezing outside anyway.” I regarded Clarissa’s still visible breasts. “But it’s like a fucking sauna in here, which means there must be another reason your nipples are standing to attention.”
Meghan looked between us. “Ugh. canlı bahis With you clearly being hot and bothered, Clar, and with old Benjo over here hiding his excitement, I want to tell you both to get a room. But you already have.” Meghan laughed. I’ll leave you both to work off your hangovers, and then we can all do breakfast like normal grown ups. She got up to leave, walking towards the door, and in the morning light you could clearly see her rounded arse-cheeks.
“Hang on, now Meg – I’m now beginning to understand what it was that got my boyfriend so worked up. Are they as sheer at the front as they are the back? And Christ your arse is impressive, woman!” Clarissa exclaimed.
Meghan turned and grinned guiltily, showing that she was at least a little bit ashamed. “Honestly, I just found these and put them on – they’re just my normal, everyday knick-knocks” she said piously. She lifted the tee shirt once more, showing us both her see-through knickers, and her auburn curls. She pushed the top of the knickers down with one hand, and with the other played with the hair softly, twirling it. “Maybe I should have done a little tidying of the garden before showing it off” she said quietly.
“No way, bush is most definitely best” Clarissa stated definitively. “Don’t you think, Ben?”
I was sat with my mouth slightly open, staring in disbelief at the erotic sight before me, and taking in the fact that Clarissa was clearly as caught up as I was. “Yep. Bush. Good.” I stuttered.
My unintended caveman impression broke the spell as both girls lost themselves in laughter.
“With that, my lovelies, I bid you adieu, and I shall see you anon, whence we shall share a divine repast, fit for Kings, Queens and myriad mistresses.” Megan then curtsied, causing the knickers to pull tight against her, showing us the shape of her womanhood, and then she was gone.
“She is such a tease” Clarissa said before pushing back the sheets and opening her legs to show me her sex – full, firm, glistening with arousal. She reached down and slowly pushed her middle finger into herself. She shuddered a breath as she repeated the action. She clearly wanted to come as soon as possible, and I knew just what to do. I rolled Clarissa onto her stomach, pushing her legs apart. I had seen this play out hundreds of times in our time together, and every time it made my head spin. She had her left hand under her, cupping her breast, while her other reached down to work its magic on her clit. It left me the sopping entrance to her cunt and her delectable arse to play with. She was rocking back and forth slightly – pulsing with need. Knowing there was little time to waste, I got to her side, sliding my hand down from her hair, down her beautiful, feminine back, until my hand rested between her buttocks. She was beginning to growl into her pillow now. I pried her cheeks apart to expose her pussy and anus, both clenching in her run up to what was clearly going to be an earth shattering orgasm. In one swift move I slid two fingers into her at the same time as lowering my tongue to her rosebud, flicking it around the edges. She began to convulse immediately, and I knew what she wanted to take her pleasure to the next level. I sat up, and with my left hand I grabbed a handful of her blond, beautiful hair, whilst with my right hand, I slid the middle finger back into her cunt, and my index finger into the opening of her arse.
Is there anything sexier than a woman allowing herself to be free in her moment of orgasm? Trusting you so deeply that she will share with you her basest pleasures, allowing you to indulge them with her? As I watched my index finger piercing her most intimate place, hearing this kind, caring, loving woman become animalistic in her need, I felt closer than ever to Clarissa. She turned her head and gasped as she came. “I love your finger in my arse, it’s so wrong, but oooooooooh” as she rode the second wave of her orgasm. After a few moments she disengaged turning over for what has become the traditional completion of the “Right Royal Quickie”. She lay on her back, one hand slipping over her sodden folds, the other clutching a boob, opening her mouth for me. I placed my engorged cock at the entrance to her mouth. She opened and I slowly rocked my hips back and forth, her lips and swirling tongue bringing quickly to the point of my own crescendo. Her eyes were bright with lust, and as I pumped her mouth full of my seed, her busy fingers pushed her over the edge once more.
“I’m hoping you two get yourselves sorted out?” Said Meghan as we gathered ourselves after being called down for a breakfast of croissants, more coffee and some orange juice just to ensure that we went into sensory overload.
“You started it” Clarissa countered.
Meghan looked more closely at Clarissa before wrinkling her nose.
“Ew. You smell like sex – the least you could have done was showered.”
“You called us down for breakfast, there was no time. And anyway, it wasn’t actually sex.”
Meghan raised an eyebrow as she studied bahis siteleri Clarissa, catching her drift and not needing any further explanation. Her nose wrinkled once more.
“In that case you dirty ho, make sure you rinse your mouth out thoroughly with that coffee!”
Before she could turn away, Clarissa grabbed her hand, bringing it to her nose. “Oh, I don’t think you can call yourself Little Miss Innocent, Meghan Harwood – Ben, come here and let me know what you can detect.”
Meghan fought to free herself, but Clarissa stood firm. I moved forward, bent down and brought her hand to my nose. I had just caught the unmistakable scent of female musk when Meghan’s struggles succeeded, wrenching herself free and running from the room.
Clarissa did as she was told and took a big mouthful of the coffee, swilling it around and then swallowing. She grimaced before shouting towards the bathroom where Meghan had secreted herself “And this is not even close to being coffee. You need to go back to New Zealand for a stretch to reacquaint yourself.”
From behind the toilet door Meghan replied “Just you keep rinsing, you filthy cumbucket!”
And so it carried on throughout the day. The three of us visited Greenwich market, Clarissa buying things she hardly needed, but was clearly caught up in the holiday mode. Meg was her shopping accomplice, and I was the bearer of many bags. We stopped at a pub overlooking the Thames, ordering food to renew our energy and warm up our frigid feet and hands. I had forgotten quite how cold London could be in winter – nothing like the Eastern Seaboard of The States, but still something which can get into your bones and make you miserable. Meg took a deep drink of hot, sweet tea and fixed me with a look.
“Ben. Now that you’re all loved up with our Clarissa, and that she’s clearly besotted with you, is it safe to ask questions about the ex?”
I laughed at her direct approach and nodded.
“So, she was in the habit of taking it from more than one bloke at a time, behind your back.”
“Yes.” I responded.
“And a couple of women” Clarissa chipped in.
Meg chewed her bottom lip in thought for a moment before continuing the inquisition. “And she screwed you over at Christmas, right?”
“Yep” I replied, wondering where she was going with this.
“Basically, she humiliated you…”
“Meghan…” warned Clarissa, but Meg waved her away as if to say she was getting to the point.
“Why the fuck would you ever talk to the bitch, let alone be friends with her?”
I was thinking of how to respond, tossing up between telling her to mind her own business and just changing the subject very obviously, when Clarissa spoke for me.
“It was my doing. I felt like Sarah did me a favour, and the letter she wrote to Ben about what happened was actually very honest and quite revealing.”
Meg looked anything but convinced, cocking a well-sculpted eyebrow at Clarissa.
“When we decided to come to London for Christmas, I thought it would be a good idea to at least let Sarah know that Ben was doing ok – you know – moving on with life.”
“Bullshit!” cried Meg, startling those at tables nearby. “Sorry” she said contritely, surprisingly embarrassed at causing a scene. She dipped her head and hissed “Like I said, Bullshit! You just wanted to show off that you’d snared her man.”
Clarissa tried to look shocked, but then gave a guilty giggle.
“Okay, I wanted to show off – a little bit. Just the eensiest bit, honestly.”
Meg looked triumphant.
“And – I’m going to lay it right out there now – my love for Ben, and his for me is such that there is absolutely zero possibility of another person shaking our foundation, so – feeling all secure and loved up as I was…I really wanted to meet this woman who lived such a wild life!”
Meg was silent, but looked impressed. She raised her glass in a toast.
“To honesty” Meg said. We joined her. “And now to the gory details – just how wild is Sarah Spitroast?”
We ordered more alcohol and settled in as Clarissa began to speak. She clearly delighted in being able to retell the stories of Sarah, and I listened as if I was hearing about someone else – a friend of a friend, not a woman I had once planned a life around.
“Well, which story to choose?” Clarissa said looking heavenward in a dramatic show of having a lot of great content to choose from.
“No editing or sanitising, please.” Warned Meg.
“Oooookay – but – how graphic are we talking? Because there is some pretty saucy stuff.”
“I don’t want you to talk about “down there” as if it’s a cupboard under the stairs – give me the tits, arses, cocks and cunts please – we’re all grown ups.”
Clarissa laughed again and I just sat drinking my wine, waiting for the story to begin.
“I need to tell you how it all began. Before we came to England, I sent her a Facebook message introducing myself, and telling her I thought her letter was very brave and very honest. She responded warmly and said bahis şirketleri she’d like to meet up, just the two of us at first. Of course I checked with Ben that he was ok with it, which he was.” She looked at me as if to ascertain that I hadn’t been lying about it. I nodded.
“So, when we got to London, after settling in, I messaged her and she suggested a meet up in a pub near to her. And I was sooooo fucking nervous, and evidently so was she. I don’t know what I expected, but when Sarah walked in, I struggled to see the conservative, pretty, home counties-looking woman before me as the deviant relationship wrecker I knew her to be.”
“No hint of sexuality at all? Meg asked, sipping deeply at her wine.
“Nope. Nothing – unremarkable in every way. Not unattractive by any means, but just not – sexy, I suppose. It was awkward at first, we sat across from each other exchanging pleasantries, and then she just started talking, with no real emotion. She told me that she was now comfortable in her skin, that she never, ever wanted to hurt Ben, but that she understood how much hurt she had caused. She wasn’t asking my forgiveness or trying to win me over, she was just – telling it like it was.”
“And then she told you about her sexual proclivities?” Meg asked, slurring a little on her words.
“No, but I matched her directness and asked her to tell me when she had begun cheating on Ben. It’s was really odd, the minute the subject of sex was mentioned, she went through a kind of change – her eyes came alive, she got colour in her cheeks, her eyes got all big and round – she became a vibrant woman who was clearly up for it. It was as if she’d forgotten that she was talking about the moment she had screwed around on Ben. Anyway, she told me the first cheat happened just after they had moved in together, when one of Ben’s old friends had come to stay. Ben had gone to bed, Sarah had been in the bathroom brushing her teeth, and this friend of Ben’s walked up behind her and ground himself into her.”
“Clarissa, don’t Mills & Boon me, please” warned Meg.
“Ok, ground his cock into her arse.” Meg nodded, clearly satisfied. “Apparently wine had been consumed, and he’d decided Sarah was fair game. Anyway, she looked at him in the mirror as she brushed her teeth, pulled down her PJ bottoms, spread her legs apart and guided him – er – his cock, that is – into her…cunt.” She said the last word in a small voice.
“God. That’s quite hot.” Meg said, flushed from the wine and the story. Then she remembered the context and quickly put a hand on my leg in sympathy. “Sorry that it happened to you and all that, Ben – but you have to admit – it’s quite steamy.” I smiled to let her know that all was well when Clarissa cut in.
“Now who’s getting all Mills & Boony? Steamy! Anyway, that night she told me she fucked the man in question on the couch, that they’d got thoroughly stoned and that she had lost her anal cherry.”
“She told you all this on your first meeting – it’s hard to believe!” Gasped Meg.
“Remember, she wasn’t boasting, she was just painting a picture of the real her. I told her it just sounded so odd coming from such a seemingly demure woman. At that point, she smiled properly for the first time. She then proceeded to take me on a guided tour of tattoos and piercings which tell their own story.”
“All of them?” Asked Meg, almost pleadingly.
“No, I took her word for the clit piercing, but she readily showed me tattoos on her shoulder blade, on her upper thigh, and she actually showed me her nipple ring. Thinking about it now, it seems odd, but in that moment, it seemed perfectly normal. It was a pretty empty pub, thankfully, with plenty of space to be discreet.”
Meg excused herself to go to the ladies room and order another round. Clarissa looked over at me.
“Perfect” I answered.
“Fully.” I answered. How’s the humidity in your knicker neighbourhood?
“100% humidity, believe me. I’m squelching. Now – earlier, when you were eyeing up Meg, actually – when we were eyeing up Meg, did you want to take it further? Would you have liked it if you got to fuck her?” She asked cautiously.
“Honestly? No. Fucking is for you. That special thing – the connection of man and woman, I want that to always be you.”
This was clearly the right answer because she reached over and kissed me softly on the lips.
“Ok, so not fucking – what about if she wanted to suck you – what about going down on her -“
“Yes.” I cut in. “Absolutely. And I would love to see you two fuck. Did I imagine the sexual tension in the air between you two?”
“No – there’s a tension there, for sure. But it’s nothing that has resulted in anything. No kisses, no girly pillow fights in our undies, no mutual masturbation – nothing like that. But certainly there is an awareness of each other.” Clarissa explained.
“Who’s aware of each other?” Meg asked, returning with drinks and peanuts.
“Nothing.” Said Clarissa quickly.
“Oooooooh – someone’s hiding something!” Meg said in a sing-song voice.
“I just told Clarissa that I thought there was a sexual tension this morning – between the two of you.” I ventured. “And you overheard Clarissa when you came back.”
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