Burning desire never blazes in broad paths, it streaks with furious intensity along tightropes. Not that I had a burning desire for Avril at first. We were colleagues, briefly.

Avril came to work at my firm, but she was merely there for a summer job while on break from uni. In the office, she was curt, a little waspish even. That was off-putting. But because we were both in our twenties, we’d hang with a young group of colleagues with more free time and energy for after-work drinks than the older folk with partners and kids. And in those summer evening pub sessions, Avril and I began to tease one another. I started to see her office chippiness for the shield it was. Avril was smart enough to know that nice girls often get walked over. Her carefully constructed bitch facade fell away as we flirted, revealing an altogether softer, funnier and deliciously irreverent Avril beneath.

After a particularly long evening session of flirting and drinking on her last Friday at my office, we ended up fucking back at my place. We fucked and fucked on the sofa until we fell asleep, never making it to the bedroom.

Now, that was good fucking: urgent, passionate, dripping wet. My desire had gone from cool, through simmering, to boiling in just a few weeks. But it was the following Friday that my boiling desire became burning.

I’d arranged to meet Avril after work. She was taking a couple of weeks’ break before heading back to uni. We met at a Tube station, and, to my surprise and immediate arousal, Avril was fresh from the gym and wearing a pleated netball skirt. My eyes were not the only things to spring out at the sight.

After a lingering kiss and cheeky, tender flirting over a bowl of pasta in a restaurant opposite the station, Avril led me by the hand back down into the Tube, onto a train where we kissed as though no one else was there, and then back to her house. 

Well, I say her house. It was a house Avril’s French father had bought. He was wealthy, an insurance maven, and savvy, and it was an excellent investment. But, since he had no plans to live in the UK, much less in London, and much less still in that house, he had zero intention of modernising the tired interior. He left any renovation and decoration to Avril, and she had other distractions. Not that I cared. It was Avril’s place, and her housemate was away. 

Avril kicked off her trainers and had barely finished shutting the front door behind us as I knelt, ran my hands under her skirt, and started to peel off her underwear voraciously.

‘No, wait! You ABSOLUTELY don’t want to go there! I haven’t showered yet after the gym! Let me clean up.’

My fingers paused, teasing at the waistband of Avril’s knickers while my eyes lingered on the dark pubes that had broken free over the top. Looking up, I scanned beyond the gathered folds of her tiny netball skirt until our eyes met. Avril bit her lip in frustration. She looked irresistibly sexy from down below, her dark lashes flashing in shock as I pulled her knickers clean to her ankles regardless.

‘Like I’m about to let such a delicacy go to waste!’

Avril clamped her thighs together in embarrassment, but my hungry, boorish tongue had no truck with such resistance. She quickly understood just what a gourmet treat her stale, sweaty pussy was to me. Her thighs relaxed as she sighed, and her fingernails gathered clumps of my hair, pulling me in deeper.

My fingertips, for their part, worked at the back, guiding Avril’s juices up into her butt crack, then stirring deeply until a finger slid inside her butthole with ease.

‘Oh! Thomas!’ That started as an admonishment but collapsed, revealingly, into a sigh.

Avril pulled me back, and we fell onto her deep, shabby sofa.

For a moment, I paused to admire her thick, jet-black bush, matted to a peak by the sports knickers now hanging from one of her ankles. Avril gave an athletic kick beside my ear, sending those knickers off in an arc away behind me.

Sliding my open mouth up her inner thigh, I drew a deep, long breath. Avril’s scent pulled my nose towards her cunt as though it had me by a taut rope. My tongue probed greedily, diving deep into her cunt to meet the mound my finger was making in the wall of her vagina through her ass.

Avril’s back arched high. ‘Jesus! Thomas!’

It wasn’t long before she came with a flood. Back then, Avril was the wettest girl I’d fucked. I was entranced.

The rest of that evening is a blur in my memory. A blur of fucking, drinking in the heady post-workout scent that drifted across the curves of Avril’s body. Lying in the fading light, squinting to study the cracks on the ceiling as though we were reading palms, then talking of dreams until our mouths drew close to paint the thrill of our hopes in deep kisses. Deep kisses that led to more fucking.

Sunlight streaming through the thin curtains woke us early. Our post-orgasmic stupor had slipped into the kind of sleep that’s so deep, it feels like skipping a page of life with a single night of death. The sun-kissed us back to life as a couple.

With a throttled groan from deep in her throat, Avril stretched and slipped from under my arm to pull herself up onto an elbow for a proper morning yawn. Lazily, I took in a slither of the world through my barely opened eyelids, my lashes struggling to shade the rude beckoning of the morning light.

Mercifully, Avril spoke in a morning whisper. ‘Wow. We didn’t even make it up to bed. Again!’

‘Hmm. I’m-, I- I did warn you that I’m a genius at sleeping on sofas.’ I’d upped the volume a little, trying to pull myself into the day.

Avril let out a sudden squeal of delight.

‘Ha! YES! Shot! Look!’

With a sharp intake of breath, I mustered the energy to open one eye fully, though the other clamped tight in protest. I spun my head to follow Avril’s excited gesture.

‘Wow. Once the netball genius, always the netball genius, I see.’

In the far corner of the room, Avril’s knickers hung hooked over the front door handle like she’d placed them there rather than kicked them off her ankle in the throes of passion. We’d both missed her trick shot, but it replayed in our minds as though we’d witnessed the perfect arc of the knickers curling from her ankle on the sofa through the air to land gracefully on their chosen hook.

My mind, however, was quickly hooked once more by thoughts of Avril’s cunt. 

With a sudden burst of energy, I flipped back on top, running my lips from Avril’s neck down between her breasts until my chin brushed the teasing jungle of her thick pubes. 

‘Thomas! NO! I’ll be absolutely…’

It was too late. I was already into the first putrid licks, stubbornly working through a wave of disgust, determined to regain my balance on that tightrope of burning desire. And the first foul notes quickly gave way to the rare, unctuous, delectable tang of a pussy untamed by the one-dimensional blandishments of hygiene.

‘Ooh, Thomas, you’re such a filthy boy!’

I paused to enjoy a wicked smile.

‘Yes, but after we’ve fucked, I am going to shower myself clean. You, on the other hand, are forbidden from washing your cunt today.’

Avril yelped in amused and amazed protest.

‘It’s just too astonishingly, perfectly delicious.’