July 20th – Cagliari, Sardinia

Emily woke with a start at 6:15, the rays of the hot Sardinian sun blinding her eyes. She eased herself out of bed, walked over to the glass doors and gazed out over the shimmering waters of the Mediterranean Sea. It was the last day of her visit to Cagliari.

She’d decided to spread her vacation time into several two-day or three-day breaks rather than the more traditional elongated fortnight. She found that two weeks lying out in the sun was an ultimately boring exercise when travelling alone, especially where English wasn’t the most dominant language.

The company owned a villa in Cagliari, the capital city of Sardinia. It was a villa that held spectacular views overlooking the Med at Costa Smeralda. She could relax as she took in the glamorous atmosphere, designer shops, and beautiful beaches with white sand and clear turquoise water.

She’d paddle along the soft warm sand, wearing just a white linen dress, her feet bathing in the warm Mediterranean waters as they kissed the sultry coastline of the Baia Sardinia and the Spiaggia del Principe. In the evening she’d don a bikini and stroll out further into the sea, luxuriating in the warmth of the water for a while as she strove for inner peace.

She breathed the sea air deep into her lungs and turned to see the naked body of Gianni Vallardo sprawled across her bed. It had seemed like a good idea after a couple of bottles of Chianti and a candlelight supper. He was a beautiful man, his smooth Italian skin a balm to her hands, his kisses soft and his tongue probing and fragrant. He’d revealed a decent six or seven-inch erection but couldn’t last the pace and had lasted a mere minute or two before coming on her stomach, leaving her high and unsatisfied when he rolled off and went to sleep.

It had been a total washout for her - there was no oral allowed, on either of them. It was almost as if he was trying to set a record for speed. When she went down on him, he pulled her off by the hair, his cock no more than a half inch inside her mouth at the time and bent her over. He fucked her savagely for a minute or so before pulling out, turning her on her back and shooting his come over her abdomen. He fell on top of her, muttered something unintelligible in Italian, and pulled out of her, leaving a sticky mess that required her to take a shower.

When he left, with a cursory kiss and a flick of his hand, she returned to bed intending to catch up on sleep. She reached for her little pink vibrator, hoping that a quick orgasm would alleviate the frustration and help her to rest. She drifted off as tiredness overcame her and woke in a daze a few hours later.

She needed coffee, but inertia held her in its grip. She tried to move, but her spirit was unwilling. Thoughts she had attempted to banish from her mind hammered on her subconscious in search of access. It had been six months, almost to the day. Six months of doubt, including a week of unanswered texts and calls. She’d thought about blocking his number completely, but something prevented her from doing it.

The texts and calls stopped after a few weeks, and she missed the visceral little surge in her groin every time she saw his name on the screen of her phone.

“Would it have killed me to have replied even once?” she thought, the ever-increasing doubt creeping to the forefront of her mind. “He probably despises me now.”

She turned on her back and stared at the stippled ceiling of the bedroom, her eyes seeing nothing except the memory of the head of his cock as she took it in her mouth. He’d moaned when her tongue swirled around it, his hips lifting softly as his legs parted when she cupped his scrotum and massaged his balls gently with her thumb.

“Jesus, Emily,” he groaned as she tried to open her mouth wider to take more of it in.

“Just concentrate on the tip,” he said in a whisper, “that’s the sensitive part.”

‘He’s a very considerate lover,’ she thought as her eyes misted again. ‘The best I’ve ever had.’

She recalled the smile of joy on his face at her reply when he asked her what time she had to leave.

“The 24th of January,” she’d said.

“What time on the 24th of January?” he asked.

"I don't know yet, but the later the better."

She bent her head and took him in her mouth again, watching his face as she did so. He closed his eyes and wallowed in the sensation, moaning as she moved her lips and tongue around and across the head of his cock as she gently held his scrotum in her warm hand, cradling it as if it was a precious object. His cock grew to its full potential, long, hard, and very thick. It felt soft to the touch, however, and she was constantly swallowing the droplets of clear preliminary ejaculate that oozed like a mountain spring from the eye at the tip of the head.

She held him tightly at the base as she was forced to lift herself slightly to be more effective. She began to adjust to his size and slowly started using a little suction to accompany the softer massage of her lips. She heard his breath catch as his hips arched into the air, agonised moans piercing the room as his cock flexed wildly in her mouth.

He groaned in agony. "I'm going to come, Emily."

She kept her pace, wanting his come in her mouth. Her movements sped up with the rise in the tone and rhythm of his breathing, eventually culminating in an outpouring of cries as his orgasm hit and filled her mouth with his seed. His cock pulsated violently as it pumped the viscous saline fluid into her mouth for her to swallow, and he finished on his back, his right hand across his forehead as he fought to regain his breath. She licked her lips and checked that she'd got it all before lying beside him as they held each other in a silence that was loud and happy.

"Was that alright, Tommy?" she asked with a satisfied smile.

"It was perfect," he said, kissing her on the lips. "Thank you, you're amazing."

She still held his softening cock in her hand, looking into his eyes as they softened.

“What’s up?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

“Are you taking that home with you?”

“Could I?” she laughed.

He kissed her, and he felt her tongue touch his. Her hand tightened around his cock as it began to expand again.

“Can we?” she asked, her eyelids fluttering.

“Are you not still a little tender?”

“Just a little,” she said.

“Why not rest for now, leave it until tomorrow. We should be ok then.”

“If I can last until tomorrow, Tommy.”

“There’s still something I can do for you,” he said, and she smiled.

“Whatever do you mean, Mr. Jones?”

“If you’d like to straddle my face, I can show you.”

“Is this a swinger thing?”

“No, this is my favourite position, Emily,” he said. “Mind you, it’s ideal, too, if there are two ladies involved.”

“I’m sure it is,” she said as she climbed onto his chest, straddling his head as she eased her pussy towards his lips.

He immediately began to kiss her around her groin slowly and with careful softness. He could see that there was a slight redness around the lips of her labia, and he was mindful of the tenderness she felt. He kissed along the puffy outer lips, her hips grinding against his tongue, her breathing deep and anxious as she fucked his mouth.

He moved her slightly, his hands gripping her bum, and flicked his tongue from her vaginal opening to her clit, as a shudder caused her body to tremble and brought a groan of pleasure from her.

“Fuck!” she cried out, as his long tongue eased inside her.

Her legs began to tremble as she held tightly to the headboard, gasping as her pussy burned with a fire that raged right through her. Feeling her heat on his tongue, he held her tightly, restricting the fevered gyrations of her hips as her breathing changed to deeper, mournful breaths that hollowed her out until she finally reached her plateau as her climax brought her higher.

He felt the warmth of a slow, delicious release on his tongue. It quickly covered his mouth and chin, and it was a comforting sensation as he licked her clean. She dismounted him and rested on top of him, catching her breath and calming the fire within. He held her bum as he stroked her skin, kissing the side of her face all the while.

“Better now?” he whispered in her ear.

“Yes, sorry,” she said, her head on his shoulder as he stroked her hair.

“Did you enjoy that?”

“Fuck, yes.”

“I did too.”

“I need the bathroom,” she said and got out of bed.

His eyes flicked to her thighs, wet inside from her orgasmic release. He reached out to touch her, his fingers loving how wet they were. She placed her hand on his, guiding it upward.

“Tell me if it’s uncomfortable,” he said.

She nodded and bit her lip as she felt him touch her pussy.

“Ok so far?”

“Yes,” she sighed.

She felt his finger at her opening, parting her legs to give him access, and closing her eyes as it began to penetrate her. She felt a slight discomfort and couldn’t disguise the wince that crossed her face as she felt his finger deep inside, almost weeping when he withdrew it.

“I’m fine, Tommy,” she tried to reason.

“You will be, Emily, but you still have a little way to go yet.”

When she returned from the bathroom, he was asleep on his left side, his arm off at an angle across the bed. She covered him with the duvet and joined him beneath it, her eyes heavy as she dozed off into a satisfied nap. They woke in the early afternoon as the sun shone brightly on the street outside.

“You were tired,” he said with a smile, his hand touching her arm.

“I wonder why,” she smiled sleepily.

“Is there really nothing in my fridge?”

“There’s enough. Why, are you hungry?”

“Are you not?”

“There’s ham in our house,” she said, “and the fridge is full of crap. I can cook something for us if you’d like to come over.”

“What are you thinking?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said, “ham with cabbage and mash?”

“Did Kath make a trifle?”

“Yes, and there’s tons of biscuits, Christmas bake and a mountain of chocolate.”

“Did she make a pudding?”

“Yes, but you can fuck off if you think I’m making custard,” she said, and they laughed.

“I can make custard,” he said, a soft smile on his face.

“Great, I’ll take a quick shower and get it started. Come over whenever you’re ready.”

“I’ll be a couple of hours, Emily,” he said. “I have to give Cilla her Christmas present first.”

She looked at him for a moment before nodding in understanding.

“Wish her a Happy Christmas from me, Tommy; take your time.”

He nodded his head, and she left. He showered and dressed, tidied the room, and brought the laundry basket down to the kitchen. It was just another day to him, a day like any other, except it was adorned with colourful lights and tinsel. He pulled on his Sunday best clothes, his cap and his good coat, collected the potted Poinsettia from the dark cupboard under the stairs and walked the full mile and a half to the cemetery where Cilla was buried. As he entered the car park outside, he heard someone shouting his name.

“Tommy Jones! Wait up!”

It was Trevor Horgan, an ex-colleague from where he’d worked before retirement. He’d heard that Trevor had just been promoted to Divisional CEO of the company after twenty-two years of service.

“Trevor,” he said in greeting as they shook hands warmly. “Happy Christmas. What are you doing up here?”

“I’m just putting a wreath on my parents’ grave,” he said. “It’s the only chance I have to spend some time with them.”

“I hear that congratulations are in order,” Tommy said.

“Thanks, yes, it was a surprise at my age.”

“You’re well qualified, Trevor; it should have happened long before now.”

“Thanks,” he said, falling into step beside him.

“You’re visiting Cilla, I take it.”

“Yes, it’s all I can do for her now.”

“You were good to her, Tommy; she knew that.”

Tommy just nodded.

“You look great,” he continued, “retirement must agree with you.”

Tommy laughed.

“No?”

“No, I’m bored silly, Trevor.”

They reached a Y in the path; Tommy veering to the left and Trevor right.

“Meet me here on the way out, Tommy,” he said. “I’d like to have a chat with you about something.”

“Ok, I’ll be about fifteen minutes.”

Ten minutes later, having placed the Poinsettia plant on the plinth that held her headstone and updated her on all the gossip from the intervening few days, he sighed in frustration as the emptiness of the gesture seeped through him. He had loved Cilla, and he sorely missed her; her passing having left a huge hole in his life.

He looked down at her grave and the pointlessness of the festive offering that began to grate on him as he stared at it. He gained no solace from the whispered words he said to her every time he visited the cold, almost desolate cemetery. He didn’t gain comfort from them and usually began to lose the will to live partway through the speech.

He knew that Cilla would have hated the platitudes; he imagined that she’d certainly scold him for his self-pity. This wasn’t Cilla in the ground; Cilla was dead, and she wasn’t coming back. His tears came amid great gasps of anxious breath as something broke inside. It was a brief relapse that felt like an outdated semicolon in his life.

He recovered his breath and wiped his tears on the sleeve of his coat. A cloud passed across the skies above. It cast a brief shadow as it floated in front of the sun, briefly colouring the winter landscape in a dull grey before the bright rays of sunshine burst through as it passed through. It felt like a sign, a portent from the great beyond. He wiped some imaginary dust from the shoulders of the black granite headstone, wished her a Merry Christmas, and turned away.

Emily had hunted down the makings of a nice meal. She’d found a boned and rolled turkey joint in the fridge. Kath had ordered it in advance. According to the instructions, it would need three hours in the oven, so she figured it would cook in half the recommended time if she cut it in two. She considered it for a moment before reaching for Jerry’s large carving knife.

She cut it almost in half, wrapping the smaller part in tin foil and placing it, as recommended, in the oven at 180 degrees before immediately turning it down to 150. She then took out the much-touted ham from the fridge. Kath had wrapped it in foil, and the smell of the glaze and spices as she opened it, wafted through the kitchen, triggering memories of past childhood Christmas dinners, when things were easier and more exciting. She sliced a few thicker-than-usual slices off the end and placed them on a plate, before covering it with more foil, and wrapping it back up to return it to the fridge.

Kath had already prepared some vegetables, most notably her favourite York cabbage, carrot and parsnip mash and the dreaded Brussels Sprouts. She checked her watch and realised that Tommy would probably be away for over ninety minutes yet, so she left the kitchen to run the bath, intending to soak away her ailments in hot soothing water and a packet of bath salts that she hoped were still in the cabinet on the wall. She was to be disappointed, but it was assuaged by the presence of a bottle of lilac-scented bubble bath, which was a more than adequate substitute.

She went into her bedroom and surveyed the mess she’d left behind her the previous evening. She quickly stripped naked and, with a casual wave of careless nonchalance, returned to the bathroom to test the water temperature, adding some cold water to the hot to make it less intense. As the last of the cold water flowed from the taps, she emptied the Bubble Bath into it. The agitation of the flowing water helped to formulate a pleasing amount of scented lather.

She turned the water off and dipped a toe in gingerly. It was a little hotter than she liked, but it was tolerable, so she eased herself into the mountain of lather and rested her back against the wall of the tub, sighing as she felt relaxation descend upon her.

She turned the water off and arranged her body gingerly in the water. It was a little hotter than she liked, but it was tolerable, so she relaxed into the mountain of lather and rested her back against the wall of the tub, sighing as she felt peace descend upon her.

She closed her eyes and luxuriated in the soothing balm of the water and the bubbles as she slid further into the tub, covering her shoulders to submerge her body completely. She stroked her skin with her palms, almost burnishing it as she slipped her fingers lower to her pussy, closing her eyes in silent prayer that the tenderness of her vagina had somewhat abated.

She explored her vulva and labia with trepidation, experiencing just a stimulating arousal. She moved a finger to her vaginal opening, touching it briefly and, feeling nothing more than an urge for penetration, applied further pressure. What had been a tender and uncomfortable sensation that morning had become merely a slight irritation, which dissipated as her finger slipped inside.

She stroked her vaginal walls, opening her legs wide in an attempt to stimulate her G-spot. Failing this, she fingered her clit, quickly bringing on an orgasm of such depth that her wildly flailing legs caused a near flood as water sloshed out over the rim to pool onto the floor.

She leaned her head back against the roll of metal atop the wall of the tub, two fingers playing with her pussy. She tested her entire groin for stubble, finding it still smooth, before nervously reaching out for a round makeup mirror that sat on a shelf beside her. She held it between her legs and moved it until she had a good view of her vulva. Pulling the lips of her labia apart, she inspected her vagina for redness or bruising. Everything looked normal; there was nothing obvious there, and she breathed out in happy relief, as she remembered Tommy’s words and actions.

When the water cooled, she pulled herself to a standing position, picked up a large towel and wrapped it around herself as she stepped out of the bath before pulling the plug and releasing the bath water.

She walked to her bedroom, patting herself dry as she walked. She finished the process as she stood in front of the mirror, assessing herself in the reflected image as she dropped the towel to the floor, leaving her exposed to the critical scrutiny of her judgemental eyes.

The birthday card standing open on the mantle downstairs reminded her, yet again, that she’d turn twenty-nine the next day, the dreaded thirty not far behind. She pulled at her skin and squeezed her breasts, weighing them, searching for imperfections. They retained their shape and balance.

Not overly big, they were a generous handful, as Clive used to say. Her nipples, stiffening now, remained prominent as they adorned her soft globes almost majestically. She’d have liked them bigger and had often explored the notion of enhancement, but they were proportionate to her build and she didn’t fancy the surgery it entailed to change them.

Her pretty oval face held the hint of a knowing, wary smile; she hadn’t had a grey hair appear yet, and her smooth face was clear of wrinkles. Her bright blue eyes added a depth of character, as they almost shone from her face, calculating and admiring, searching for truth and beauty, assessing, evaluating and re-evaluating.

Her lips and nose were perfect and unblemished. She held a finger to her bottom lip, stretching it slightly to one side and finding nothing except a soft fullness before opening her mouth to form a large open shape, reminding herself again of how she felt when Tommy’s cock stretched it to its fullest a few short hours previously.

She pulled on her robe, undecided about which underwear to dress in, and checked her watch. It was time to remove the foil from the turkey joint.

She returned to the kitchen, the aroma of a roasting joint pervading the house. She removed the tray and placed it on the counter, easing back the foil to expose the turkey inside. It looked good to her - another thirty minutes uncovered would complete the job, so she returned it to the oven, along with several stuffing balls pre-made for the day by Kath. A knock at the door made her start. She opened it to find Clive standing there looking gormless and bashful.

“Clive, what the fuck do you want?” she said.

“I heard you were home, Emily,” he replied. “Can we talk?”

“You have five minutes.”

“Can I come inside?”

“No.”

“Can we meet before you go back?” he asked. “On neutral ground.”

“For what?”

“We need to talk about what happened.”

“No, we don’t,” she said. “I saw what I saw, and you did what you did, so what’s left to say?”

“Is there no chance of a second chance for us?”

“No.”

His head dropped.

“You owe me some money, though,” she said.

“Yes, I do, €4,000 I believe.”

“It’s actually €5,780,” she said.

“Yes, that probably sounds more correct,” he said, his voice shaking. “But I had to pay the rent on the apartment, along with the electricity and gas after you left, so there’s that to consider.”

“Why would that concern me?”

“Well, we were two weeks into the month … “

“And you were five inches into Angela. I’d consider that even.”

“Emily … ”

“Fuck off, Clive,” she said. “You’re a prick. Drop a cheque in here before the weekend, or I’ll send you a solicitor’s letter.”

“But … ”

“I’m finished talking to you,” she said. “I’m expecting a visitor - he’ll be here soon, so … if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Right, yes, I’ll put a cheque in the letterbox tomorrow,” he said, paling at her words. “Will I text you when I do?”

“Your number is blocked.”

“Oh, yes, right,” he stammered. “Well, Merry Christmas, Emily,” he said, looked into her eyes and left as she closed the door behind him.

“Arsehole!” she said as she walked back down the hall. “Two weeks into the month ... Argh!”

Tommy saw Trevor waiting at the junction of the two paths.

“Were they in when you called?” he said with a grin.

“In body, I suppose.”

“I hate this place, Trevor.”

“It’s a cemetery, Tommy. You’re supposed to hate it.”

“So you said you want to talk to me about something.”

“Yes. Are you driving or walking?”

“Walking.”

“Let me give you a lift home,” he said. “We can talk on the way.”

“Is everything ok, Trevor?” Tommy said as they drove along slowly.

“Yes, it’s all good, Tommy. I was going to call you in the New Year about this. I’d like you to come back to work.”

“What?”

“I know it’s out of the blue, but I need someone I can trust to look after a few things.”

“What kind of things?”

“It’s usually just day-to-day stuff, and you’ll report directly to me.”

“Who fucked up?”

Trevor laughed.

“You never did miss much, did you, Jonesy?”

“Let me guess, Tony O’Halloran.”

“How the fuck did you know that?”

“He’s an accident waiting to happen, Trevor, he always was and always will be.”

“Yeah, well, this is on my watch now, Tommy.”

“Ok, do you want me to fire him for you?”

“No, I’m looking forward to doing that myself, Tom,” he said. “I need you to go through everyone’s files, him first, and see where the fuckups are.”

“Would this be a full-time position?”

“It can be,” Trevor said. “Do you want it to be?”

“What are the options?”

“You can set your own timetable.”

“How would that work, money-wise?”

“Come back to me with a proposal, but I doubt it’d have an effect on your pension.”

“Ok, well I’m very interested, Trevor,” Tommy said. “Thanks for the offer. Can you give me a few days to mull it over?”

“Yes, of course,” Trevor said. “What are you doing on New Year’s Eve?”

“Hopefully romancing a twenty-year-old.”

Trevor burst out laughing.

“You still have a great sense of humour, at least,” he said. “If she doesn’t turn up, why not come along to the Four Seasons at 8:00. The company party is on, cocktails at 8:00, dinner at 9:30, dancing until the early hours, business casual dress. Bring a plus one, if you have a mind to.”

“I might just do that, Trevor,” he said. “It’s been a while since I trod the boards. Thank you.”

They turned the corner, and Trevor negotiated a U-turn, coming to a stop outside Tommy’s front gate.

“Are you on your own for Christmas, Tom?” he asked.

“No, I’m, ehm, going next door for lunch.”

“Great! I’ll see you at the Four Seasons then?”

“Yes, I wouldn’t miss it, thanks, Trevor.”

“I might give you a call in the meantime,” he said. “It’s work-related, and we’ll put it on the clock. Would that be ok?”

“Are you working over the holidays?”

“Yes, I’m still trying to get a grip on things.”

“Call any time; I’m usually home or in the pub next door,” he laughed.

“Great, enjoy the rest of the day,” Trevor said.

“You too.”

Emily had just stepped into a new pink thong and was adjusting it around her body when she heard the sound of the car door closing outside. She peeked through the curtains as Tommy waved it off and instinctively turned to walk in through the gate next door. Halfway through, he noticed what he’d done, stopped, turned around and entered Emily’s gate instead. She pulled her robe on again and bounced down the stairs, two steps at a time. He smiled when he saw her.

“Is this how you dress when you cook ham?” he asked, making her laugh as he sniffed the air. “Something smells nice, Emily.”

“Thank you, kind sir,” she said, knowing he meant the food.

“You smell nicer, though,” he said, pulling her to him and burying his face in her hair. “I love lilacs.”

“Thanks, I took a bath while you were out,” she said. “I just have to check on the turkey.”

“I thought it was ham for lunch.”

“It was before I knew she had a boned and rolled turkey.”

“Did she make a trifle?”

“Not that I can see, but there is a Christmas pudding.”

“I have some brandy from last year. Will we light it later?”

“If you’d like to,” she said, looking at him curiously. “You’re looking incredibly happy considering you’re just back from a cemetery. Was there a band playing?”

“No,” he said. “A couple of things happened.”

“What things?”

“Well, one of them was I’ve been offered a job in consultancy position at my old firm.”

“That’s fantastic, Tommy, congratulations.”

She kissed him, and he held her to him.

“What else?”

“I’ll tell you after lunch,” he said with a grin. “In bed.”

“Ooh, Mr. Jones,” she trilled. “Am I on a promise?”

“If you’re up to it.”

“I’m definitely up to it. How quickly do you eat?”

“It depends on what I’m eating,” he said.

“Me?” she asked with a lascivious grin.

“That would be very slowly, my dear,” he said, “but let’s enjoy our Christmas lunch first.”

“I’m not all that hungry just yet,” she said, her hand pulling his lips to hers.

He kissed her softly, his eyes not leaving hers as her mouth opened to his, inhaling him as his lips entranced her. She felt his fingers cupping her breast as his thumb stroked her excited nipple through the satin robe.

He felt her shiver at his touch; he squeezed her soft breast gently before slipping his hand under her robe and pulling it aside to give his lips access to her nipples. He heard a soft hum as he sucked on her nipple and a moan as he pulled the tie of her robe and watched it slip to the floor. He eased her back against the kitchen counter, falling to his knees as he kissed down over her stomach to her pink thong. He slipped his fingers under the fabric and pulled it to one side as his tongue sought the soft pink petals of her vulva.

His strong hands held her hips in place as she began to unravel at the feel of his tongue slipping inside her pussy. She opened her legs wider as she felt him penetrate her deeper, a hundred sensations assailing her as she felt him thrust inside her, her fluids covering his tongue as he opened his mouth wider to catch them.

She pulled his head closer as her stomach rumbled, breathlessly demanding more and urging him further as the fire inside ignited and she buckled as she felt her orgasm burn through her clit, a surge of warm fluid streaming over him, covering him in her pungent scent as he fought to capture it in his mouth. He held her in place while her body calmed, slight aftershocks causing her limbs to shudder as his tongue continued to lap against her, cleaning her up and drying her off until she blew out her cheeks with an embarrassed smile.

He eased her back onto her feet, her unsteady legs trembling weakly as she held on to him for support. She kissed him savagely, clinging to him, her lips taking his as her tongue sought a continuation of their connection. He kissed her neck softly, then touched a nipple with his tongue, rolling it between his lips as he stood to hold her.

“You’re amazing, Emily,” he whispered.

She buried her face in the crook of his neck, unable to form words. He stepped back slightly, and she looked down at her sodden thong. She slipped her thumbs into the waistband, but he stopped her as she began to take it off. Her big eyes searched his, a confused look on her face.

“That’s my job later,” he smiled. “We need food.”

“I’m fine, Tommy,” she complained.

“Your stomach was growling, Emily,” he said. “We both need food to sustain us.”

“I need you to fuck me then,” she said, her voice low and demanding.

“I do too.”

They kissed deeply as they ground against each other, his cock diamond hard and fully engorged.

“How can you stand that?” she whispered.

“It’s a case of having to, Emily. We need fluids and food,” he said, “safety first.”

“Ok, let’s eat.”

She picked up her robe and slipped it back on, and they worked together to assemble their lunch. After they finished eating, Emily returned from the bathroom and found Tommy in the sitting room reading her birthday cards. He smiled when she joined him.

“The big day is tomorrow?” he said.

“Let’s not go there.”

“It must be a bitch of a day to have a birthday.”

“Yeah, it makes planning a pub crawl very difficult.”

“I haven’t got a gift for you,” he said.

“I know what I want,” she said, kissing him softly.

“You’ll have to wait until tomorrow,” he said. “It’s not your birthday today.”

“No, but you didn’t get me anything for Christmas either.”

He started laughing, and she joined in.

“Do you want to come next door?” he asked.

“We can use my room,” she said, untying her robe and slipping it from her shoulders.

She led him upstairs by the hand, his view focused firmly on the flimsy piece of pink string that nestled snugly in the cleft of her beautiful behind. Smiling, she turned her head at the top of the stairs to see his reaction. He squeezed her hand and took the last step, his hand moving to touch the softness of her bum.

She opened her bedroom door, saw the chaos in the room and closed it quickly.

“My room is a mess,” she whispered.

“Let’s use Jerry and Kath’s room “ he said, anxiety in his raspy voice.

She pushed the door of her parents’ room open, and they almost fell inside. Tommy stripped off, his erection dominating her vision. She moaned as he slipped his fingers inside her thong and ripped it off, the flimsy fabric almost disintegrating in his hands.

“Fuck me, Tommy,” she pleaded.

“Lie on the bed,” he said and removed the last of his clothing, his desire clearly on display as he knelt between her legs and placed his cock in her hands.

She stared into his eyes, her legs wide apart. She led him to her ravenous pussy, guiding the way as she braced against the imminent penetration. She cried out in orgasm the moment the head disappeared inside her, soaking the sheets as it was followed quickly by the rest of his shaft as he slowly became fully sheathed inside her welcoming vagina. She whimpered as he moved inside her, short, agonised breaths signalling her need and her rising passion.

“Fuck, Tommy, yes! Fuck me! Please don’t stop, I’m coming!” she screamed as he thrust deeper inside her until she cried out as her body seemed to crumble in his arms when she lost consciousness for a brief few moments.

“Emily! Emily, can you hear me?” he shouted anxiously.

Her head moved slowly, and her crazed eyes fluttered open.

“Fuck,” she breathed, pulling him tighter, “I want it all.”

“No pain or discomfort?” he asked.

“No,” she smiled, her eyes shining. “It’s perfect.”

He kissed her, penetrating her fully as the final inch of his cock caused her eyes to roll back in her head before he eased out a couple of inches and began to thrust slowly and easily inside her.

He felt her breasts against his chest as he moved inside her, his pace slow and even, her pussy overflowing. Her breath came in deep lunges as she voiced her pleasure and desire, moving against him as she adjusted to his length and girth.

He lifted himself for support on his elbows, his hands holding her shoulders as he fought to delay the oncoming feeling deep in his cock. She heard his breath rasp, a slight moan emanating from deep in his throat. She kissed his face, feeling it in her vagina, the ever-increasing heat betraying the path of the journey she was travelling.

This was different to anything she’d ever experienced; it felt like something that was slowly simmering inside, increasing in temperature and gradually rising higher, on the cusp of boiling over. She felt it in her pussy first, a delicious ache as her body palpated around his fully sheathed cock.

He felt her vagina tightening around his shaft, heard her moans, and held on to her shimmering body as she began to quiver in his arms, gasping for more as she spurred him on. His cock flexed inside her, sending her into raptures that pushed her to the peak of her endurance.

“I’m coming, Emily,” he breathed in her ear, the rising intensity becoming intolerable.

She mumbled something incoherent as her brain seemed to scramble and she began to thrust wildly onto his shaft, chasing the release as his pace increased in time with hers. She gripped him as her vagina almost seized just as a powerful climax shredded her senses when the first powerful jets of his seed pulsed wildly inside her.

“Oh fuck …” she screamed before his lips took hers in a deep, soul-searching kiss, silencing her cries to a muffled lament as her body trembled, forcing her to cling to him, binding them tightly together as his cock remained fully sheathed inside her.

They remained in that position until the constant soft motions of her hips waned and died. Her eyes opened in a squint of shyness, a look of placid satisfaction on her face. He smiled and kissed her softly.

“Happy Christmas, Emily,” he whispered.

The ringing of her phone broke her reverie, pulling her back to the present again.

“Emily Cantwell,” she intoned.

“Emily, hi, Jeremy Evans, Leaders Estate Agency, can you talk for a moment?”

“Hi, Jeremy, what can I do for you?”

“We’ve just taken a few floors at the Citygate Development. It’s close to your office, fifteen minutes from Manchester Airport and close to Old Trafford, Piccadilly and everything in the city centre. It’s really convenient to many amenities at a very attractive price.”

“It sounds fantastic, how much?”

“Are you still looking for a two-bed apartment?”

“Yes.”

“We have a couple on the second floor at £270,000, two bedrooms, main bathroom and one en-suite, a bijou study and lots of amenities included, with management fees of £1,600 per annum. Would something like that be of interest to you?”

“What’s the view like?”

“There are city views, but I wouldn’t call them spectacular. You’d need one of the upper floors for that, and they’re three times the price with more accommodation.“

“Is there a good resale value on them?”

“They’re selling quick. I mean it’s halfway between the Etihad and Old Trafford, so travelling supporters use them as bolt holes when they visit the city during the season.”

“I’m interested, can you email the details, Jeremy?”

“I’m sending the brochure and information pack now.”

“Thank you. I’ll be back in the city on Monday; can you hold off until then?”

“I can’t promise anything, but I’ll give you the nod if someone else shows interest.”

“Perfect, thanks, Jeremy.”

A feeling of anticipation began to build inside her. If this worked out, her life would become a lot simpler. Her current home wasn’t ideal, as it was only a rental, which she considered a drain on her finances and just reinforced the feeling of insecurity that blanketed her. It also helped that it would show a commitment to the powers that be at work; it also sent a message to her parents and everyone she knew in Ireland.

The call enlivened her. She stretched and eased herself out of bed, naked in the warmth of the day. She could hear the bustle of activity outside the window as she stirred sugar in her coffee before ripping a day-old pastry in half and biting into it. She took the rest of it, and the coffee, back to bed and thought through what she needed to do. The villa was tidy enough, requiring just some surface cleaning to leave it in good condition when she left.

She’d packed her small bag - save for the clothes she’d need that day and for travelling home. Her thoughts turned to lunch and what she’d do that evening. There would certainly be no more Giannis - she’d had enough of self-absorbed men to last her a lifetime. She finished the pastry and sipped her coffee, her hand resting on her flat stomach testing for stubble and finding none. She gazed at her hand as it slid easily across her pubis.

Tommy’s touch was as light, if not lighter, than her own. It was almost feather-like, similar to an ethereal, out-of-body experience. His lips were soft and his kisses gentle or demanding when required. His entire focus had been on her needs, her wellbeing. She recalled his smile at her reaction to his little birthday surprise, and she broke into an unbidden grin at the memory.

They’d eaten late on Christmas Day, serving up their food informally and sitting close as they shared little teases and laughs and chatted easily. He fed her a forkful of Christmas pudding covered in warm custard that she’d argued against eating.

“No thanks, Tommy, I don’t like Christmas pudding.”

“You’ve never tried it this way. It’s lovely, come on, open up.”

“No, I wouldn’t put that in my mouth; it tastes horrible.”

“You’ve had worse,” he grinned.

“When?”

“This morning.”

She kissed him slowly. “Yes, but only some of it.”

“You did better than most.”

“Does that mean I did worse than some?”

“Not many.”

“I might exceed that with a bit of practice. What do you think?”

“I think you can do anything you set your mind to. Now try the pudding. For me?”

She’d smiled and opened her mouth. She could still almost feel its warmth on her tongue, but the overriding memory was the taste and the texture.

“Did you put something in that custard while I was in the shower?”

He started to laugh. “Just a touch of Jerry’s rum. Do you like it?”

“I hate to admit it but, yes.”

“Lots of new experiences this Christmas, eh?”

“Yes,” she whispered, moving to sit on his lap, “and more to come.”

“That sounds interesting.”

“We’ve only done it a couple of ways, in a couple of positions.”

“What’s your favourite position?” he asked.

“I’ll show you later.”

“Can I have a hint?”

“Let me see …. I know! Irene Byrne might know.”

“Ah! You like that, do you?”

“Yes.”

“We should probably work up to that, Emily. I assume we’re talking doggie here?”

“Yes.”

“Would you tell me if you’re feeling pain or discomfort during intercourse?”

“Yes, I would.”

“How was it this afternoon?”

“Not painful, just different.”

“Different?”

“It was more concentrated; I felt every little movement. The orgasms are more intense and frequent.”

“We’re going to have to wash those sheets, you know. We don’t want Kath to be on the warpath.”

“We’d better keep them in the dark about us too,” she said quietly.

“It’d probably be for the best,” he agreed, pulling on his trousers.

“Where are you going?”

“I need a smoke and a beer - it’s getting late.”

“Do you have to go home?”

“I just want to lock the house up and switch the landing light on; it won’t take me five minutes.”

“I’ll tidy this place up and pull you a pint,” she said. “I’ll meet you outside.”

“I’ll use the back gate.”

“Good idea,” she said and kissed him. “Don’t be long.”

She cleared the dirty dishes into the sink and wiped down the counters and tables quickly. A quick visit to her room allowed her to touch up her makeup and hair. She had an idea to let him find her naked when he walked in, but felt it might be too cold outside, so thought better of it. She pulled on a new black thong, slipped the black slip dress over her head and covered everything with her robe, deciding to get a new one when the shops opened again on St. Stephen’s Day.

She had pulled one pint and checked the time. He’d been gone twenty minutes. Her first thought was that he’d returned and left while she’d tarried in her bedroom, but there was no sign that he’d even been there yet. The wall heater crackled and the sound made her jump. An eerie silence surrounded her, making her jumpy and nervous. She sipped her pint and switched on the speaker, toggling a jazz and blues playlist for accompaniment as the room began to heat comfortably.

Ten more minutes passed, and he still hadn’t returned. Another glance at the clock told her it had been over forty minutes, and she was beginning to think that he wasn’t coming back at all. She lifted her glass and looked into the clear amber at the playful bubbles that rose playfully to the top. In her head, she gave him five more minutes. Five minutes before she went looking for him. She watched the hands turn to the witching hour and began to empty her glass, not wishing to waste any of it.

She finished it just as she heard the door being pushed open. Tommy came through it, smiling and rubbing his hands together against the cold. She jumped to her feet and grabbed an empty glass, holding it under the spout and trying not to look put out. She smiled instead, “It’s about time you got here; I was nearly sending out a search party for you. Your beer was going cold.”

“I’m sorry about that, Emily. The phone was ringing when I got in, and I had to answer it.”

“Is anything wrong?”

“No, quite the opposite in fact. It was Trevor Horgan; he’s the new boss at the place I used to work.”

She looked at him with a soft smile, waiting for more.

“I met him at the cemetery today, and he offered me a job.”

“Doing what?”

“I think he’s a bit overwhelmed since he was promoted. He’s going to separate the wheat from the chaff, and I’m his scythe.”

“Is it a full-time position?”

“No, I’ll work as a consultant. I know where everything is hidden, you see.”

“That’s fantastic news.”

“He wants me to attend the company’s New Year’s Eve Party at the Four Seasons, where he’ll announce it. He said I could bring someone special or a plus one.”

“It sounds very posh.”

“It’s a big deal - dinner, dancing, an open bar … the whole fecking lot!”

“Wow!”

“Indeed, would you be my someone special, Emily? I’ll take you shopping for a new dress. Unless you have other plans, of course.”

“I’d love to, Tommy, but won’t my parents notice us going out on the town together? They’ll be home tomorrow evening.”

“We can take a room at the hotel for the night; they don’t need to know.”

She smiled and handed him his pint, dancing over to him and kissing his cheek. “What have you got in mind?”

“Oh, something along these lines,” he croaked as he slipped her robe to the ground and stroked her bare shoulders. “Would that be allowed?”

“Yes,” she gasped as the colder air hit her skin and his lips touched her throat.

“What about this?” he breathed just before he kissed under her ear and slipped the strap of her slip down to kiss her shoulder.

“Oh fuck!” she breathed as a tingling sensation electrified her.

He slipped the other strap down, and his hands cupped her breasts through the satin material, his thumbs stroking her aroused nipples as her breath caught and deepened.

He kissed her then, taking her in his arms and allowing his hands to wander down her back and her bum, the feel of her thong arousing him further as her sighs assailed his senses.

He pulled the slip down over her breasts, exposing her to his lips; he kissed her in the valley between and took one of her nipples in his mouth, sucking her in deeply whilst stroking and lightly pinching the other. She allowed her slip to fall to her feet, stepping out of it as he bent her back against the bar itself, his fingers stroking inside her rear crevice, revelling in her softness as she began to peel his robe away from his shoulders.

He shrugged it off and slowly knelt before her, his fingers pushing through her thong, testing her wetness and inhaling her scent. He pulled the fabric aside gently as she spread her legs slowly, accepting his tongue into her moist vulva.

She held his head in her hands, holding him tightly against her in expectation of his tongue inside her vagina. He kissed her vulva tenderly, sucking one of the lips of her labia into his mouth and massaging it tenderly with his tongue.

She groaned in agonised pleasure, as his tongue sought her clit, pushing her kegs wider apart as she began to writhe against him, her latent yearning spurring him on as he felt her heat rising. Her left leg hooked over his shoulder as her hips rocked violently. He sensed her orgasm in the warmth of her skin and the flow from her vagina, refusing to alter course until she crashed through and cried out as she felt her body contract wildly around him.

She held his arms as he took a half step back, his hands moving to the waistband of his trousers, slowly releasing them and opening the zipper that contained him. She reached for him as he pushed them down, his rampant cock glistening in the ambient light.

“Oh, God,” she cried and moved to take him in her mouth.

“Not yet “ he whispered as her desperate face pleaded.

He took her in his arms and whispered in her ear, “You are spectacular, Emily.”

He turned her around until his cock nestled in her crevice, one hand caressing her breast, the other gently on her throat, holding her head back against him. He turned her to his left until she rested her hands on the tabletop before her and he persuaded her head lower.

“I want you,” he whispered, sliding her thong to the floor, “I want you in every way.”

He slid one leg between hers and moved them apart. “Yes,” she breathed as she felt his cock at the entrance to her vagina.

She bent lower, her breasts almost touching the tabletop, and pushed back against the intruding member, gasping as she felt the slow and deep penetration. She sighed in anticipation as his hands moved to her hips and he began to thrust easily inside her. The sultry sounds of their animated sex filled the room as his thrusts quickened and deepened, her anxious whimpers rising in intensity with every insertion.

“Yes, that’s it, Tommy, don’t stop, fuck me!” she cried as perspiration wreathed his face, her vaginal muscles clinging to his cock, his entire length filling her with each deep stroke to bring her to her destination. He groaned as he unloaded a huge stream of come inside her, spurring her on to a screaming orgasm that shattered the Christmas night.

They collapsed entwined and breathless on the tabletop, connected physically and emotionally, fingers entwined together as the fire inside began to fade. His hand on her back held her in place as he slowly pulled out of her, a deluge of their shared fluids flowing behind it like a pure white waterfall. She turned and took his softening cock in her mouth, cleaning it off with her tongue and her lips, drinking it down like a fine wine.

He picked up her slip and handed it to her, but she just rolled it in a ball and left it on the table as she snuggled against him and brought him to her bed. Her thoughts scrambled, and her heart full. She stroked his face as he held her, now barely covered by a single crumpled sheet. She kissed him tenderly on the lips.

“That was intense,” she whispered, her voice no longer weak.

“Your wish was my command,” he said.

 “Did you plan that? The bar, I mean.”

 “No, I can’t resist you, Emily. I felt … I don’t know … different, I suppose, after that phone call.”

“Different?”

“Maybe that’s the wrong way to put it. When we met at the cemetery, he asked me if I’d be interested. I told him I would be, but there weren’t that many details. He was talking as he was thinking, if you know what I mean … off the cuff with little detail, more of an idea than anything else.”

“And now?”

“It was obvious that he’d spent the day working it out in his head. I mean, he interrupted his Christmas Day with his family to contact me about it.”

“And the party?”

“He mentioned that at the cemetery too. I had intended to ask you about it when I got back today, but we were, eh, distracted, shall we say.”

“I know, do you regret it?”

“I don’t regret anything, Emily love, do you?”

“Not a single moment, Tommy.”

“Including what we just did??”

“Especially that, I’ve never been fucked so completely … and I did ask you, if you remember.”

“It wasn’t quite doggie, more of a mongrel than a winner at Crufts,” he said, kissing her, “you are my Champion in Show, my Supreme Champion.”

“I hope that’s not a fancy way of telling me I’m a dog!” she said and burst out laughing.

“No, it’s not, but I feel something equivalent to a bone returning if you’re interested. I can offer you your wish properly.”

“I doubt I’d survive it, Tommy, but I’d love you to make love to me properly, like you would with Cilla.”

“I’d like that, Emily.”

She slid onto her back as he pulled the sheet aside and dropped it on the floor, a happy smile on his face as he kissed her lips and touched her face.

They woke the next morning, her lying spooned in his arms against him, the movement of his arousal causing her to adjust her hips for comfort.

“Something is stirring in the wilderness,” she said lightly.

“He’s only human,” he replied and moved slightly as she turned to face him.

She kissed him softly. “I don’t think I’ll be able to walk today.”

“Did I hurt you last night?”

“God no. How long were we …”

“Making love?”

“Yes,” she said, her eyes averting slightly.

“I don’t know, but it takes me longer the second time.”

“I think that was the third or fourth time.”

“There you go!”

“I’m sorry I mentioned Cilla; that wasn’t fair.”

“Don’t be sorry, it set the moment perfectly. It was intense and intimate. Will I make some tea?”

“What about this?” she asked, slipping her hand between them and stroking his erection.

“I’ll leave that to you.”

“Maybe I can practice my oral skills; I don’t want to be just one of the few.”

He smiled as she slid her hand up and along his chest, pushing him down on his back before kneeling between his legs, his fingers in her hair as she took him between her lips and wrapped her tongue around the head of his cock.

She leaned back on her bed in Sardinia, her thighs quivering as her fingers and thoughts of the feel of Tommy’s cock touching her throat teased an orgasm. She’d failed to take him completely, almost choking before he eased her head away.

“You’re determined to take it all, aren’t you?” he smiled.

“I think I can get there,” she replied, almost sullenly.

He shook his head slowly, a look of admiration on his face that warmed her. She recalled that look as a fuzzy post-orgasmic haze descended and settled her into a satisfied doze.

TBC