Free Polly by Freya North Page B

on his hips.
    â€˜Well, girl, it sure looks like you
can
, indeed, do this.’
    Polly could not speak, let alone protest, because her voice, it seemed, was only for gasping and her heart was in her mouth anyway. Simultaneously, it was also beating hard and fast between her legs. Mikey came close again, encircled one hand around Polly’s waist and pushed the other up under her crotch. He pressed and rubbed and as he did so, the seam of her jeans massaged her clitoris. She could have fainted. Instead, she moaned and swayed, closed her eyes and tensed her thighs as he grazed her neck with his teeth. He took his hand away and cupped her right breast, suddenly pinching hard at the nipple. Now they weren’t kissing. They weren’t saying anything. They were breathing heavily, gorging on each other’s faces.
    â€˜Christ,’ Mikey said hoarsely, scooping Polly against himself, bucking his groin gently against her. Automatically, she travelled her hand down his body and felt his erection defiant through denim. She rubbed him and squeezed along the impressive length of his cock while they stared at each other. They ate at each other’s mouths again.
    A noise. Footsteps.
    â€˜Hallo?’
    Jojo! Quick! Into the trees.
    â€˜Hallo?’
    They watched as Jojo clambered aboard her new house and walked round it in a slow waltz of sorts.
    â€˜Hi there, little house!’ they heard her repeat over and over as she circumnavigated her domain. She didn’t stay long. They neither resented nor blamed her for coming. They’d have done the same, they agreed, if it was their house built on this beautiful plot of land. Jojo walked away, singing and skipping as she went. Mikey had his back to a tree and pulled Polly against him but facing away from him. She pushed her arms back so she could hold on to the belt loops of his jeans and steady herself. It caused her body to arch forward and gave unlimited access to Mikey’s hands. He felt along her stomach, slipped his fingers down the front of her jeans as far as he could reach and then slid them under her knickers. He could not reach far enough, despite her wriggling, so he cupped and fondled both her breasts instead and then encircled her neck with his hands, squeezing, quite tightly. It felt dangerous. It was. Wasn’t it?
    The ground was unbelievably soft. Mikey had laid her down on it, removed her boots and jeans arid placed his fleece and his shirt under her body. He was stepping out of his jeans, looming over her in white jockey shorts, his erection holding out the fabric like the mast of a marquee. He straddled her, kissed her and then set to work on each of her nipples in turn, while she tried to reach his cock which was tantalizingly beyond her stretch. God she wanted him. All of him. Inside her. She bucked her body up and sat with her face against his stomach, his cock stiff between her breasts. She had a hand on each buttock and started, teasingly slowly, to inch his underpants down. The shaft of his penis sprang out of the fabric, his balls still concealed.
    â€˜Polly,’ he murmured, ‘God, you’re something else.’ Slowly she lowered her mouth over his cock, making sure he could feel her hot breath over it before her lips touched down.
    â€˜Polly,’ his voice was rising with his excitement. She kissed the very tip of him with the lightest of lips. Then she gulped down as much of him as would reasonably fit.
    â€˜Polly.’
    Gosh, his voice was high. What power!
    â€˜Polly!’
    Hang on, that’s not his voice at all. That’s Kate’s.
    Kate?
    What’s going on?
    Where’s Mikey gone?
    â€˜Come on sleepy head, it’s school time.’
    If fantasy is fiction, does it preclude reality entirely? Dreams may not be real but they are genuine; truth often contained therein.
    Was the reality really only that Mikey had merely done no more than greet her, introduce himself and ask if she was from