Page 111 of Not That Ridiculous

If he had any downtime between jobs or a long enough lunch break, he swung by the newsagent’s and took Phil out for some air.

He dropped by the house as soon as he’d finished work and had been to the gym, and would have stayed over every night if I let him. I hadjustenough self-preservation left not to.

I knew that this couldn’t last. Of course it couldn’t. Over the years, I’d seen Kevin with his beautiful, vibrant girlfriends, with his loud, joyful gym bros and, on the rare occasion that Ray or Jasper managed to drag me out to the pub, with his equally loud and rambunctious mates. These were the people he spent his time with.

As far as I could tell, the only thing that I had in common with these people was that I, too, was a member ofHomo sapiens.

Once he’d satisfied his curiosity about man-sex and/or had renovated my house to his satisfaction, this would obviously end, but I loved him and I’d treasure my time with him until the day he moved on.

I didn’t ask him what we were doing or where we were going. Foroncein my life, I decided, I wouldn’t plan. I simply went along with it.

Every night the following week after we slept together, he rang my doorbell.

Every night, I ran eagerly to open the door, and I let him walk me into the house with his hands on my arse and his tongue in my mouth. I didn’t let him rush me up the stairs when he gave it a go, but I was helpless to say no to being scooted into the sitting room, or to defiling the sofa with some intense grinding sessions and more than a few handjobs.

On Friday, he asked me to join him for a pint with his mates after the gym.

I declined. He might have awakened me sexually, but no force on earth could awaken me socially. After twelve hours straight at the coffee shop, the last thing I wanted was to hang out somewhere people were drinking and talking, where I’d be expected to join in.

Kevin wasn’t offended. As long as he ended the night with me, he said, he didn’t care.

He texted at ten to let me know he was on his way back from The Lion, and I got up to let Phil out and to put the front door off the latch. I settled back down with my Kindle, and when I heard him let himself in half an hour later, I had my now-Pavlovian response to his presence. I got hard.

I was sliding a snoozing Phil’s head gently off my lap and onto the sofa he was sprawled on when I sensed Kevin at the door and looked up.

His cheeks were pink and his eyes glittered in the low light. My stomach twisted with nervous anticipation. He didn’t move, just stood there and waited for me to tiptoe away from Phil and cross the room. He reached out and curled a hand around the back of my neck, pulling me in those last few inches. He kissed me, turned me, and manoeuvred me out into the hall. Without a word, he hustled me up the stairs and into my room.

Once he’d got me on the bed and wrangled me up to the pillows, he straddled me.

“Hi,” I said, rubbing the taut thighs either side of mine.

He grunted, reaching an arm behind him and hauling his t-shirt over his head. His hair stuck up and it would have looked comical if not for the heavy-lidded expression and the stern line to his lips that told me I was in for it.

“Did you have a good time at the pub?” I asked.

Nodding, he popped the button of his jeans. He grabbed hold of the hem of my t-shirt and shoved it up, bending down to bite at my chest.

I threaded my fingers through the side of his warm, thick hair.

He leaned up for a quick and filthy kiss on the lips before shuffling backwards and kissing his way down my chest, my stomach, and lower. My fingers in his hair spasmed.

“Uh,” I said. “Where are you going?”

“You know where I’m going.” He dragged my flannel pyjama bottoms down to my thighs. He swung off me, got my pjs all the way off and dropped them over the side of the bed on top of his t-shirt, then rearranged himself between my legs. He held my hips, rubbing my hipbones gently as he stared at my dick.

He stared at it a lot.

His gaze flicked up to mine as he slowly lowered his head. One hand slid in and over my stomach to grasp the base of my shaft. He ducked down and kissed the tip.

My hips popped up reflexively and he chuckled.

“Sorry,” I said.

He hummed and licked at the head then pulled back thoughtfully and stared some more. He gave me a couple of long, slow strokes with his fist.

Kevin really was a champion when it came to jerking a dick. It wasn’t a surprise, considering what he’d told me about his sex drive. He—and I—had both been delighted to see his skills translate from self-pleasuring to Charlie-pleasuring.

But we hadn’t done blow jobs.

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