Simon eyes me over the rim of his pint, takes a swig and dumps it back on the bar mat between us. It misses by a good half foot. “You cannot be serious? Jasmine frigging Hampton?!”

“Oh broadcast it, why don't you?” I furtively scan our surroundings at his outburst. It's thankfully swamped by the student pub’s Friday night atmosphere and tawdry mishmash of nautical wall art.

He softens his voice. Leans in. “Jasmine Hampton? For real?!”

“Promise you won't tell her.”

He picks at the corner of the Beer Goes In—Wisdom Comes Out mat that was meant to be stopping the condensation from his glass pooling on the veneer. “Not like there's anyone to tell. I mean, dude, she’s practically NPC.”

“Hey, come on.”

“I'm serious. She dresses like a Minecraft villager. All those earth tones and paisley. I bet she keeps a pouch of hemlock in her knickers for emergencies.”

“Give over. She's cute.” I pick up my vodka orange and sip. Simon's way ahead of me in the units-consumed leaderboard. I have a reputation among my cohort of being the lightweight, but I'm fine with that. “Promise you won't say anything?”

“Whaddya take me for?”

“Thanks. Appreciate it.”

“Besides,” he nods over my left shoulder, “you can ask her yourself.”

I whirl my head and scan the crowd at the bar. Can't see any sign of her. Turning back, Simon's grinning like a twat.

“Made you look.”

“Fuck off.”

He laughs, reaches for his pint and drains it. Plonks it on the table as the door some way behind me opens and a chill wave rolls in with it. “She's actually over there.” He nods over my right shoulder towards the door.

“Yeah yeah. I'm not a total mug.”

The prankster shrugs. Waves anyway, probably to sell the illusion. “She’s definitely NPC. Bet she doesn't even know where her clit is.”

I shuffle in my seat. “And you're an expert, I suppose?”

He opens his hands either side of the table top. ”Please. I have to fight them off.” Leaning in conspiratorially again, he adds, “You know that Emily chick from Bio Med I hooked up with?” I nod. “You don't wanna know the stuff I got her to do.”

“I expect you're gonna tell me.”

Simon smiles. “Let's just say her mouth is bigger than it looks. And I pounded her arse so hard I'm surprised she can still sit down.”

“Like, her actual arse? That's not just a phrase?”

“Aha. And she begged for it. She's a filthy tart.” My eyes bug. “All I'm saying is that Jasmine’s frigid. She's gotta be.”

“Why? Because she hasn't fallen for you yet? Because you haven’t ‘pounded her arse’?” I airquote.

“Dude, have you seen her?”

I'm dumbfounded. “That’s your evidence? Come on! There's more than looks.”

“Pffft. I'll remind you of that when A&E are treating you for hemlock poisoning.”

“Shut up.” I sip my drink and put it down. On the mat. “If we're comparing visuals, what about Kylie Pryce?*

“Mmm, she's hot.”

“No she's not. Have you seen her? All that fake shit in her face. Fake tan. False eyelashes. Botox. Lip filler. She makes anaphylaxis seem appealing.”

“Duuude, that's cold.”

“Tell me I'm wrong.”

“You're wrong. She's fit as fuck.”

“Yeah, for a blow-up doll.” I gurn a face.

He waves away my scorn. “At least she's got a personality. Jasmine only has multiple choice responses.” He mimes robot arms.

I take another sip of my drink. “Michael’s in her class. Says she’s got a tattoo of a dragon on her thigh.”

Simon raises one eyebrow. Then the other. “She’s not the type for ink. And how would he know? He's gay.”

“Jesus. Being gay doesn't mean you can't talk! Maybe she wore shorts or he just… asked, y’know?”

He again waves his hand dismissively. “And since when did we start believing Michael? He claims his dad invented the takeaway.”

“Fair point.”

“So what's your game plan?”

I shrug. “Haven't got one. Don't even know how to start a conversation.”

“Dude. The internet works for everyone.” He whips his phone out, taps and turns it my way. “There you go.”

“136 conversation starters to ask anyone?” I skim the first few. They seem ridiculous. Bordering on surreal. “Soup? Movies? Dogs or cats? Dreams? Nobody would go for this.”

“Trust me, it works. Try it. But if you pork her, twenty quid she's got a crafting table in her living room.”

“Shut up.”

“Yeah, I wouldn't take that bet either. ’Cos you'd lose.” He burps. “Anyway, your round.”

“So are you, ya fat bastard.”

He flips me Vs and grins. “Pint of Theakstons. Chop chop. Before last orders.”

I slide my chair back and stand. Turn and almost barrel into Jasmine.

“Oh god, sorry. Didn't see you there.”

Simon issues a theatrical cough over a loud “NPC” and, out of Jasmine's eyeline, I stick my middle finger up at him.

She smiles. A bit lopsided, but the way she does it makes my heart thump louder than the music, the DJ choosing that moment to put on I Need You Tonight by INXS.

“What are you boys doing here? There are exams coming up.”

“Uhhh, yeah.“ I comb fingers through my light brown mop of hair and flick it clear of my eyes. It damn well needs a trim. Should have had it cut today. “We're just taking a break. From studying.”

“What a coincidence. So are we.” She grins and indicates the far edge of the bar. Her housemate Bree is there, but no Lucy. The three of them are usually inseparable.

Simon pipes up. “Travis was just going to the bar. He'll get you one, won't you mate?” He winks at me in what I suspect is meant to convey subtle conspiracy but, in fact, tells everyone in the Northern hemisphere I fancy her.

I glare at him. Then swing my attention to her. “I… sure.”

Jasmine shakes her head and flicks coffee tresses back over one shoulder. “No, you're fine.” She eyes me shuffling from foot to foot, and my heart thuds harder. Her irises match her hair and I should look away but can't.

She tilts her head. “Is my mascara running?”

“No, sorry, I just wonde…” My mouth dries up. “Sorry. Would you like a drink?”

After another few moments of consideration, she relents. "Go on then. A short. Single. No funny stuff, okay?”

I nod fast. “Of course,” and follow her, threading our way through the pub. In any other clothing, she might be a mesmerising view, but her long floral skirt and loose-fitting jumper conceal most of her curves.

Doesn't stop my imagination as we draw to a stop. How she'd look peeling off the outer layers to reveal her bra and knickers. The shape of her modest cleavage as she unhooks the bra and I kiss her barely-there boobs. How she'd sigh as my tongue swirls her nipples and I work my way down her body. Down. Down. To the swell of her—

“Are you checking out my arse?”

I snap my attention up. She's wearing a coy smile, glancing over her shoulder.

Fuck.

Apologising implies guilt. I look away. Should say something witty. Something fun. What would Simon say? Probably some inappropriate or cheeky quip that'll make her laugh. But if I try that, I'll get it wrong. Show myself up and she'll storm off.

But I can't say nothing… can I? Unless she likes the mysterious types. I jig my leg. Stop. Start again. Stop. “If you were to fall asleep face first in a bowl of soup, which flavour would you want it to be?”

She doesn't answer. I go cold. I'm pretty sure sweat in this quantity isn't attractive. The Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy advises Don't Panic. Clearly the author had never just asked the first patently stupid question he read off the internet to the girl of his dreams, and expected her to stick around.

I risk a glance. She’s staring at me like I just asked who invented clapping. “What?!”

“Uhh, nothing.”

She eyes me. “Pea and ham.”

“Oh. Wh… Really?”

“Yes. If anybody asks, I could claim it's some exotic face mask.”

“Ahhh. Clever. Even with chunks of ham clinging to your cheeks?”

“That's the exfoliant.” She gives one sage nod and taps the side of her nose. We shuffle forward.

The bar is three deep and I find myself behind a girl whose denim shorts must have got caught in a shredder on the way over. Jasmine stands alongside me and the heat from the back of her hand radiates against mine.

“Is it my turn for a random question now?”

I shrug. “Sure.”

“Okay. So. Music… Bruno Mars or Charlie XCX?”

“That's not even a question. Bruno of course.”

“Really? Why?”

“Because he has talent.”

“So does Charlie.”

“It’s very well hidden behind that impenetrable layer of autotune."

She mimes shock then smiles. “Fair, I guess.”

The DJ swaps records to With Or Without You and I groan. Jasmine tilts her head. “Not a U2 fan, either?”

“Nope. Bono's so pretentious.”

“Finally! Someone who gets it.”

“Seriously? Wow. I was beginning to think I was defective.”

“Ooh, no. The only reason people consider them the biggest band on the planet is because Bono keeps saying so.”

“Right? Bonowashing.”

She giggles. And just like that, without much more than a shared hatred of U2, we hit it off. Jasmine likes volleyball (but admitted being crap at it), dancing, rainbows, and Marmite on toast. She hangs out with her friends because she finds her course hard, but is determined to pass. And she drinks gin and tonic.

I deposit Simon’s pint as she and Bree chat and laugh by the bar. He nods. “You’re in there.”

“Nah, you're winding me up again.”

“I'm not, mate. She keeps glancing over.”

“It's probably you. Everyone loves you.”

He feigns bashfulness. “Of course they do. But it's not me.”

I sip my drink, still stood. “There's no way she's interested.”

“See? That's the problem right there.”

“What?”

“You. You're the only thing standing between yourself and fields of flange.”

“Eloquently put.”

“Look, sit down. Okay, here. Take this.”

He reaches into his pocket, bringing his thumb and forefinger out half an inch apart. Puts them dead centre between us on the table top, spreads his fingers and pulls his hand away.

I blink. Stare at the empty space in the spot he touched. He nods encouragement. “Go on.”

“What?”

“Take it.”

“There's nothing there, you loon.”

“Ah.” He lifts his index finger, pad towards me. “That's where you're wrong. It's a confidence cube.”

“You been in the catnip again?”

“Take it. Go on.”

I sigh. Shrug. Reach for the nothing he'd deposited on the table. Foolishly lift my finger and thumb like he did.

“Okay, perfect. Now eat it.”

“Eh?”

“Put it in your mouth. Go on.”

“You make Pol Pot seem sane.” He just gives a curt nod of encouragement. “Fine, whatever.”

Bringing my fingers to my mouth, I mime putting the cube in, while he grins. “Good. Let it dissolve. Spread. Feel it flowing through your veins.”

I pretend to swallow. Stare at him.

“Perfect! Okay. Now go over there and ask her what she would do if she was invisible right now.”

“That's daft.”

“The dafter the better. Use the confidence you just took. Go on. Don't worry about me. I'm gonna fuck that hot thing in the micro skirt with the big tits, and you're cramping my style. Go get your own pussayy.”

“You're unreal.”

He clicks his tongue and mimes a finger gun. “Scoot. You can thank me tomorrow.”

I pause, breathe in, scrape my chair back and approach Jasmine, who's laughing and flicking her hair back over her shoulder. Bree catches my eye and signals somehow, because Jasmine turns. My palms are so clammy I nearly drop my drink.

“Hi.”

“Hey, Travis.”

“Listen. If you… like, if you were invisible right now, like right this minute, what would you do?”

She tries to keep a straight face. They both do. But one of them breaks and then they descend into fits of giggles and I hadn't brought my portable hole with me to throw on the ground and jump into.

Jasmine wipes her eye when she’s stopped laughing. “Did Simon tell you to ask me that?”

“Ummm. Yeah.”

She waves to him and he lifts the remainder of his pint in salute. “No offence, but he's a bit of a dick.”

“Well, yeah, I guess. Funny though.”

“A riot.”

Bree chips in. “Well I’d have him.”

Jasmine high-fives her. “Go, girl.”

I shuffle to the other foot. “You're out of luck. He said he was going to fu…” then tail off. Bree is wearing a micro skirt and has an immense rack bursting from the confines of her aquamarine stretch cami. “Fff… inish his drink and go.”

She drains her cocktail and plonks the empty on the bar. “Can't have that.” Rearranging her top to somehow reveal even more cleavage, she struts over.

We watch her go and Jasmine turns to me. *Did he have any more pearls of wisdom?”

“Uhhm. Not really. Aside from you not being his type.*

*That's a relief.”

“Yeah. Ahh, listen, this is gonna sound weird but… you don't have any hemlock on you?”

She blinks. “Is that some kind of new drug?”

“No no. Actual hemlock.”

“I don't think anyone's ever asked me that. Have you been browsing Fourteenth Century Chat Up Lines?”

“No. I… he,” I nod across at Simon, “well, he reckons you’re the type of person who might keep some. For emergencies. In your…” I glance down and nod.

“In my knickers?!”

I stare at my trainers. Say nothing.

"Why on earth would he think that?"

"Erm. I think it was to do with your... Bohemian appearance."

"Oh. Really? Hah. Doesn't he know that saying about judging books by their cover?"

"See? I told him that!"

She doesn't speak for a moment and I return my attention to her in time for a slow smile to spread. “Well the joke’s on him.” She leans in and whispers, “I'm not wearing any panties.”

My jaw drops. “W… what? Seriously?”

“Mmhmm. Want me to prove it?”

I check around the packed pub. “Here?!”

She lets out a short burst of a laugh. “No, dummy.”

“Oh.” Realisation dawns and my adrenaline spikes. “Ohhhh.”

“Looks like I lost my wing-girl. Drink up, Apothecarist.”

I sink the remainder, dump it on the bar and follow her, glancing back once. Simon is grinning widely with Bree in his lap, and holds his finger and thumb up forming an “OK” circle. Which he then proceeds to defile with the fingertip of his other hand.

He's unreal.

Her place is standard, as far as digs go. Three floors, shared between six students, nobody else in. It's warmer than outside, but not by much.

After making us a cup of tea each, Jasmine leads me up two flights of creaking stairs held together by threadbare gold carpet. She flicks the freestanding heater and lamp on, bathing the attic room in a soft glow and the faint whir of the fans. I can only stand comfortably in the central strip of the room or directly beneath the two skylights notched out of the pitched roof. She plonks herself on the bed and nurses her tea. Tilts her head to look at me.

“You’ve not done this before have you?”

“Drunk tea with a pretty girl? Sure I have. I'm a natural.” I sip to prove a point.

She giggles. “You know what I mean.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Casual observation.” She pats the bed alongside her. “I only bite on request.”

“Oh I… okay.”

Stooping to avoid a head injury on the ceiling, I approach and park myself next to her. Stare at the steam from my cup, wisping its way towards my nose.

She rests her hand on my thigh, closer to the knee than groin. Warmth spreads from the contact point. “It's okay. I don't judge.”

I shift focus to stare at her hand. “I don't know what to say… or do. This'd be so easy for Simon. He just opens his mouth and says something witty or zany and girls drop their knickers.”

“It's not always about saying the right thing or doing the right thing. Trying counts. And we've already established I've no knickers to drop.”

I swallow. Keep quiet.

“I'll save you the awkward part. I like you. You're… different. Quirky.” Her eyes flick to mine and we lock gazes a few seconds. “Cute. And you hate U2.”

“A redeeming feature, for sure.”

“Definitely.”

“But what if I don't… measure up?”

“You think everything is about size?”

“Well, uhh. Isn't it?”

She shakes her head.

“What if I screw up? I mean, I've seen enough porn, so I think I know what I'm doing. But they make it look easy. And if it was that easy, we'd all be earning a tonne as porn stars, so it can't be easy. What if I finish too early? That'd be mortifying.”

Jasmine smiles. “You're getting ahead of yourself there, cowboy. Slow down. And you'd be hard pushed to top my second boyfriend anyway.”

My heart sinks. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” she finger combs her tresses, “he got blind drunk one night, went down on me and a few minutes in, threw up on my pussy.”

“Yewww. You're kidding.”

“I wish. Nothing quite says I love you as much as scraping puke from my pubes after he rolled away and fell asleep.”

 “Unreal.”

Her hand creeps higher up my thigh and I track its progress. “So, yeah, I think you're safe.”

Despite my nerves, the telltale outline of my cock makes itself known and she walks her fingertips towards it, stopping short. She turns to me, our faces half a foot apart. “Pro tip. This is the point where you kiss me.”

“Oh uhh, sure. I—”

“Not talking. Kissing.”

God she's beautiful. Dappled freckles. A quiet intensity behind the little flecks of gold in her irises reflecting the lamplight. Mouth slightly open, a sweeping curve to her upper lip that peaks in the centre.

Our heads drift together, lips brushing, scoping one another before locking. Her tongue sneaks inside and I slide mine against it, as she traces her hand fully up to grasp the bulge through my jeans. I jolt and spill tea in my lap, breaking the kiss and gasping as the boiling liquid seeps into my thigh.

She giggles. Glances down. “Oops, you did finish early.”

My cheeks colour but she calmly reaches for the cup and places it on the bedside table. Turns back to face me. “Now. Where were we?”

Her lips find mine and I'm awash with heat. She smells amazing this close. A delicate scent drifting above some earthier tones. Her hand returns to grip my cock, which swells at her massaging, and she moans into my mouth.

We settle into a rhythm, tongues sliding, mouths moving against one another. I don't know how long it's meant to last. Looks ages in the movies. When I think we've been at it long enough, I slide my hand up her body and cup her boob through her top; a tiny handful that I massage as she groans and returns the favour on my steeling shaft beneath my jeans.

Eventually, she pulls back, saliva strings snapping. Her eyes are alive with a smouldering need as she stands to face me, unzips her skirt and lets it fall.

A colourful dragon tattoo does indeed curl from the outside of her thigh and breathes fire towards her pussy. No hemlock. Just droplets of moisture catching the light, clinging to a trimmed thatch of pubic hair.

I gawp. She steps in, leans to grab my hand and guides it to cup her pussy. “Feel that?”

The slick heat is electric. My cock tries to burst free as my fingers slip back and forth along her silky lips until they're coated with arousal. The more I rub, the slicker she becomes, and she groans. Makes eye contact through a lidded gaze. “Taste it.”

I bring trembling fingers towards me, her deep scent preceding the incredible juices I first lick, then hungrily suck clean. She's fragrant, like… like fruit pie or something. Somehow tart yet sweet, a complex flavour that seeps into me. My cock approves. “Mmm.”

“Yeah, you like that? My God that's sexy.” She steps in fully. “Imagine how I taste from the source.”

Placing a hand on my chest, she shoves me back on the bed. Clambers over me and drags her soaked slit across my crumpled clothes until the wet lips hover an inch above my face. With barely enough time to take breath, she plunges and smothers my mouth, her pubic hair tickling my nose as I French kiss her hole.

Grinding on me, she moans, “Ohhh fuck yes,” moments later pressing harder with small circles and rocks of her hips, encouraging juices to drizzle. I lap. Lose myself in her, nose buried at the apex of her lips, tongue driving inside. “God yes, don't stop.”

With exaggerated rotations, she brings herself closer to climax. Flops forward, changing the angle so my tongue pops free and instead presses against the tiny nub. She immediately groans, long and deep when I flash my tongue over it. Her hands seek mine, palms connecting, and she shoves my arms high on the bed, bucking and grinding against my insistent tongue, moans escalating.

“Ohh fuck. Ohhh ffuck. Yesss.”

I flutter my tongue and she jolts then slams down against my motion so all I can do is deliver powerful licks, slurping her tumbling juices as she begins to quake.

“Jesus… I'm cu… cumming oh fuck. Fuck.”

I'm treated to a burst of intense flavour as she crushes my head to the bed and gasps. She seems to be holding her breath, in suspended animation, and I don't move for several seconds until she restarts, rhythmic grinds in sync with rasping groans. I lash her soaked pussy, burying my face in wetness.

The gyrations peak with her cries, then gradually slow as she drifts. Every breath I steal is laced with her delicious scent and I gently lap wayward juices that drip freely.

Her orgasm fades, the volume of her sighs lessening, and she sits up to let me breathe fully, circulation returning to my fingertips when she releases my wrists.

Our gazes lock. Somehow during the action she has jettisoned her top, now only in a white lace bra supporting tiny breasts. I brush her thighs and slide my hands up her curves. Reach behind her and fumble the clasps. I have four attempts before she takes pity on me with a smile and deftly unhooks the garment, letting it fall to my chest to reveal my first look at a completely naked woman.

I gasp. She has the loveliest rosy pink nipples perched firmly on the tips. I trail fingertips to the underside and trace the cups. Then up to brush thumb pads over her nipples. She closes her eyes. Lets me explore, swiping, caressing. Her jaw drops when I capture a peak and give it a tiny pinch.

“Mmm god. More.”

“More?”

“Mmhmm.” She nods, chewing her lip, and I increase the pressure. Watch her mouth change shape again and form the word, “Harder.”

I pinch more of her and she emits a sustained moan, rolling her head back. Giving her a break, I massage her tiny tits, palms over her nipples, then return to gripping them between thumb and forefinger. Her chin drops to her chest and she stares down at me, wanton as I become bolder and maul her flesh that pinkens under my attention.

“Slap one,” she commands.

“What?”

“Do it.”

“I… if you're… are you sure?”

She nods.

Releasing her breast, I pull my hand back, pause, make eye contact and watch her steel as my hand connects with a soft slap. She groans. “Ohhh God that stings.”

I massage them and she sighs. “Again. Harder this time. Like you mean it.”

Letting go, they give a faint bounce to come to rest before I pull my hand back and strike the other. Firmer. She hisses and I immediately cup and squeeze to soothe the sting away.

Jasmine drops her hand between her legs. Strokes her pussy to wetten her digits and circles the little nub that caused her so much pleasure under my tongue. Sighs. “God my clit is so sensitive. Your tongue was magical.”

I smile. “You're a good teacher.”

She increases the motion. Bites her lip. “Slap them again. Don't stop until I tell you.”

My breath catches, cock desperately trying to rip the denim. I hold both hands up either side of her tits. Pause.

Slap.

Slap.

SLAP.

She squeals. Grinds her clit and nods, “Yesss.”

She somehow seems to love it rough so I increase the intensity of the spanks. Her breasts turn a deeper shade of pink. Then almost puce and she rocks her hips on my chest. My T-shirt is peppered with droplets of juice when she gasps, “Stop,” lifts her hips and rests her pussy on my chin.

Slipping fingers from her circling, she delves them into her snatch and thrusts, fucking herself. They curl up inside her, wetter each time they exit, juices splattering in freefall over my chin and mouth as the most despicable, sexy squelches bounce around the room with her gasps.

She drips. Actual, sustained drips, making a mess of my mouth, chin and cheeks as her second climax thunders through her body, juices raining from around her buried fingers that rock deep inside her slit. I slurp and drink everything that lands, enrapt by her enjoyment of the moment, until she slows and eventually comes to rest.

Plucking her fingers free, she wipes them across my nose and snakes them into my mouth. “God that was intense.” She giggles at my starstruck expression, as I suck her fingers clean. “Let me make it up to you.”

Sliding away from my head, she slithers her fingers from my lips and trails them in her wake, snaking them down my chest and stomach as she crawls between my legs. She kneels on the floor, grins up at me with impish delight and grabs the waistband of my jeans in each hand. Tears the buttons open to reveal my bulge and the dark stains of pre-cum splotching my underwear. “Is this because of me?”

I nod, dumbfounded as she runs her hand up and down the concealed lump. It responds favourably and she lets out a satisfied little sigh when she grips the elastic and peels my underwear down so it bobs free.

Her hand is warm as she pulls it vertical. Leans in and licks from the base of my shaft to its tip. Circles her tongue around the opening and laps the dot of pearly juice that forms when she squeezes my pole upward.

“Ever had a blowjob?”

I shake my head.

“You're in for a treat. Try to hold off as long as you can.”

She licks again and I jerk in her grip. Grit my teeth. “Not gonna be easy with you doing that.”

“Mmhmm.” Her vibrations around the head of my cock almost make me lose it as she wraps me in wet warmth to the ridge, then pops free. “God that's gorgeous. I've never had anyone who's circumcised before.”

“Ohh.”

She encases me again and sucks a little deeper before slithering off. “Medical or religious reasons?”

“M… medical.”

“Did it hurt?”

“Only when I laughed.”

Her hand slides up over her deposited saliva and she follows its downward path with her lips, taking over half of me before lifting and wanking a few strokes.

“Mmm. So hard. I want it all.”

“Fuck.”

“Think I can take it?”

I exhale. “I think… well, you should try. If you want.”

She strokes me a few times and shakes her head. “That's not how this works. Acceptable responses are a) Yes, b) Do it, or c) Take every inch, you filthy hot little slut.”

I can't resist an inward smile at Simon’s quip about her multiple choice responses.

Kissing the head and nibbling the sensitive ridge, she adds, “Bonus points if you hold me down.*

My exhalation is involuntary. “Jesus.”

“Just Jasmine will do.”

I nod. “Jasmine.”

She eyes me.

“Take every inch, you—”

Her eyes widen.

“Filthy.”

Her mouth opens.

“Hot.”

Her breath plays over the tip.

“Little.”

She makes contact and I twitch against her lips that widen as she eases millimetre by millimetre over the crown.

“S…” I take a breath. “Slut.”

She plunges down on me, gags and pulls back. Plunges again almost to the root. Splutters. Lifts. Slides all the way, within maybe a centimetre of the base, coughs and hauls free.

I groan. “Fuck that's good.”

Taking a deep breath, she whispers, “Told you. Now.” She replaces her mouth at the tip of my spit-soaked shaft. “Got anything you want to say?”

Reaching out, I stroke her cheek. Reach further round to the back of her neck as instinct takes over. “Yes.” I make eye contact. “Take it all.”

And I pull her onto my length. She gags again and coughs around the base but with some wriggling and encouragement from my hand, lodges my entire shaft in her mouth, nudging her throat.

My hands fly away and I bunch the duvet by my thighs, hips lifting. She reverses with a wet gasp. Smears saliva up and down my slippery cock.

Her grin says it all. “That's more like it. Tell me. Am I your good girl?”

I gaze down at those pixie cute features. The wide eyes. The button nose. The lips smeared with pre-cum and spit, curled into a wanton snarl. “You're the best. Such a good girl.”

She beams. Opens her mouth. “Do I get a reward?”

Uncurling one fist from the duvet, I bring it back to her skull, snake it round the back and tug her onto my rod. “Yess.”

She coughs again as I enter her throat. A tear springs from her eye and trickles down her puffed cheeks, and I yank her free. Wipe it with my thumb. The sparkle in her expression tells me she's after more so I thrust her fully down again, rocking and grinding my hips up like she did when she came on my face.

My free hand bunches the duvet again and I arch off the bed, impaling her as she groans around me. My moans join hers and I erupt in her throat.

After a few strong pulses that she swallows, I draw back and ripple the remaining spurts across her tongue. She swirls it messily around me, eyes watering, mascara running.

Ultimately, I slump back to the bed, breathing hard as she swallows the remainder pooled on her tongue and idly nibbles my cock head. She was right that it was something special. Almost indescribable. The heat of her mouth, the way she responded, the way she acted like my cock was the only object in the universe. God. Such a rush.

I smile down at her and wipe her cheek again, smearing her make up. “Thank you. That was… amazing.”

She grins and crawls her nakedness up over me. Kisses me and we take our time, lazily duelling tongues, sharing scents until she pulls away. “It's freezing out here. Get naked and get in bed.”

I salute. “Yes, Miss,” and scramble off the bed to undress fully as she climbs under the duvet and holds it open for me.

We kiss again, hands roaming skin as we warm up. At a natural break, she asks, “Can you flick the heater off or we'll cook overnight?”

I peep over the duvet, slide my leg out and wag my foot in the direction of the switch. Brush it with my toe and eventually knock the rocker down. Then turn over and kiss her neck, working my way down her body as she squirms and giggles at my stubble scuffing her skin.

There's a crash downstairs as Bree and, presumably, Simon stumble in and race to her room. As I'm kissing my way over Jasmine’s belly and begin nuzzling her pubes alongside the dragon, drifting moans and slapping flesh on flesh filter up through the floorboards.

We both giggle and I trace my tongue through her sticky folds, circling her clit and nuzzling my face against her lips. She lifts the duvet and smiles down at me. “They didn't waste any time. Want to see if we can compete with that racket?”

“Sure. What did you have in mind?”

She rakes her fingers through my hair that I’m now thankful I didn’t have cut, parts her legs wider and guides my tongue from her slit, down to the crinkled knot of her arse. Waits for me to give it a lick, and moans. “If we’re going for noise, there are at least two places you haven’t explored yet.”

I lift up and raise an eyebrow. She nods. “I’m not wasting that magnificent dick. This is the initiation of the century.”

My cheeks flush and I stare open-mouthed as Bree is clearly ravaged in the room below us. “Uhh, wow. Okay.” I flash her a grin. “After I've double checked there's no hemlock hiding anywhere, okay?”

She grabs my head, clutching it to her body, laughter turning to rising moans as I seek more hidden treasures from the seemingly not-so-innocent girl of my dreams.