So, in your drunken state you decide that you want me. Calling me in the early hours to deliver a slurred speech telling me what a fool you’ve been, and how much you miss me.
Odd that it’s taken you nearly three months to come to this conclusion, since that day you dumped me. I listen to your transparent patter and the recycled charm offensive somewhat indifferently. I should be kicking you to the kerb and putting the phone down, but foolishly I yield and listen.
You tell me you’ll be twenty minutes, and I rush around to make myself presentable. Heaven knows why as I don’t seek your approval anymore.
I see the taxi pull up and I’m at the door waiting for you like some diligent servant. I’d love to say you look drop dead gorgeous, but you don’t in the slightest. In all honesty you look like you could do with a good wash and a lie down. So why do I still want you so badly?
The small talk is minimal, less than a minute passes before your lips are pressed hotly against mine. The kiss is frenzied and intense. Your stubble scratches my sensitive skin, but I couldn’t care less. I just crave the intimacy.
You back me up against the lounge wall and pepper my neck with kisses. Your hands tearing off my top and sucking and biting my nipples with wild abandon, just like you used to in the good old days.
“Oh baby I’d forgotten how fucking amazing your tits are.”
I gasp lustfully as your hands and tongue stir me up, making me want you all over again. I can feel my body tingling already with anticipation.
Despite the heat we’re generating, the cold early December air makes the room an uncomfortable place to be. I suggest we take things up to bed immediately. We make it upstairs in a bundle of arms and legs, before you push me down onto the bed and remove your remaining clothes. I always loved your body, especially those toned legs and the thick uncut cock which stands tantalisingly erect in front of me.
No messing around or time wasting here.