Free The Belgravia Club by Clarissa Fenton

 
     
    One
    By quite early on in the evening I
knew that James and I would end up in bed together. After a series of
disastrous dates from internet dating sites I was about to give up and then
found his profile purely by chance. 35, tall, slim build, dark hair; good
looking in a suave sort of way; working like me in financial services (well,
that covers a multitude of sins but after a few emails I realised he was
genuine and not some spiv or chancer ).
    On our first date we clicked right
away; since I broke up with my ex a few months ago, things have, not to put to fine a point on it, been getting pretty desperate.
Inviting him back after the first date might have seemed a bit easy though, so
I held off, but a week later, I knew there was no
stopping us. Sure enough as he paid the bill at the Ivy, we both spoke at the
same time:
    ‘I wondered if...’
    We both laughed.
    ‘Sorry, go on’ he said.
    ‘No, I just wondered if you’d like
to go on for another drink. At mine, if you like’.
    There was no awkward hesitation, as
I guessed there wouldn’t be.
    ‘Sure. I’ve been thinking about it
all evening’.
    Oh have you now? I thought. You can
never quite tell with men. They’re supposed to jump at the chance of sex,
though in my experience they can sometimes go a bit odd on you when it comes
down to it. I know I’m no amazing beauty, but nobody could call me ugly.
    I’m ash blonde, with what you could
call a buxom figure, and no, that doesn’t mean I’m fat, though I used to think
so until enough men convinced me otherwise. I’m only a size 12,   but I’ve got good curves; and money helps make up for
what nature might have neglected. I think some men just find me a bit
intimidating; but that’s just the way I am.
    James put a protective arm around
me as he hailed a taxi, and once inside he kept it there. Our bodies touched
and I felt a tingle of arousal. Our heads were close but maddeningly he didn’t
kiss me; thankfully it was just a short trip back to South Ken. In the lift up
to my flat he made his move; almost instantly his mouth was on mine and his
tongue lightly probing my mouth; I eagerly responded with my own tongue and
felt his hands lightly but firmly on the outside of my thighs, corrugating the
grey Chanel suit I’d picked out carefully for the evening.
    Once inside my flat, there were no
preambles; James took my hand and led me to the sofa. I took off my jacket and
his, and we started kissing deep and hard, his tongue now thrusting deep into
my mouth and his hands stroking and squeezing my breasts, each thumb caressing
the nipples through the thin fabric of my blouse. I’d worn my best Rigby and Peller bra and knickers set with holdups, just in case this
had happened; men, of course, don’t seem to care much about this kind of thing
and pretty soon we were both topless anyway.
    James moved his head down to my
chest, licking and sucking my nipples until I could almost squirm with
pleasure. I moved my hand down to the growing bulk in his crotch and kneaded
and stroked him through the material of his trousers as he gasped in pleasure.
I smiled and stood up, keeping my back straight in the
way I know makes my breasts look even bigger. Taking him by the hand again I
led him to the bedroom and sat down on the bed while he stood over me.
    I slid his trousers and we laughed
as I had to stretch the waistband of his shorts almost to the point of tearing
to get them down over his swollen cock. I tried one of the little tricks that
men seem to like, especially if you’re busty like me; but don’t ask me what
they like about it so much; I squeezed my breasts around his cock and firmly
rubbed them up and down the shaft as he groaned with pleasure. Then I held his
firm thighs and drew him closer, taking his cock in my mouth and working round
the head with my tongue. After a while his breathing grew heavier and finally
he pulled away.
    ‘Lie down on the bed now’. There
was a note of command in his voice