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Three Years, Six Months
Date: 7/30/2015, Categories: Straight Sex, Author: Swozzle13, Rating: 3, Source: LushStories
to small talk. “There’s a restaurant back in the city that we went to on an office night out.” James’s desire to punch Mark in the face flared up. “I was thinking we could stay in tonight,” he replied, trying to work his fingers under the fabric of the blue jumper that draped over her shoulders down to her waist, where a single button wrapped it around her and the white tank top she had on underneath. She continued to resist him, trying to rotate her right shoulder out of his grasp. “I have got a few things in, I suppose,” she said. He was defeated, his shoulder rub had been dislodged, his ham-fisted suggestion had fallen on deaf ears. She returned to her stoic perusal of her inbox. He retreated back to the chair and tried to get comfortable. He was in for a long night, and – he thought – an even longer weekend. Trying to distance himself from the situation he closed his eyes, his focus fading from the room. “...and that’s the last one.” Kelly’s words jolted him back into alertness. Seemingly for the first time that day her attention turned to him. “Do you like that chair,” she asked. “It looked like you were comfortable.” He admitted that the chair was comfortable, but the sight of her rising to stand and the sudden memory of where he’d previously seen the chair undid all his work to try and forget his need. He wasn’t sure she’d even remember what she’d done in this chair. But she had. Every moment. That night had driven her wild, not only the pleasure she brought herself ... that night, but the look in James’s eyes as he stared wantonly at her form on his screen. Now she was ready to make more memories on the chair. “Do you want dinner yet?” she asked, praying she already knew his answer would be. They were answered and he replied: “Not really.” He continued, though she’d pretty much stopped listening after the first two words. “What food have you got in anyway?” "Did he really want to talk about food?" she asked herself as she took a step towards him. “I’ve got the stuff for Spaghetti Bolognese, and I think I have a pizza in the freezer, but it’s got pineapple on it.” James hated fruits in strange places, like as part of a savoury meal. It was also the reason that strawberries never accompanied the chocolate sauce in their little secret. That fruit may have ended in some very strange places. By now her slow walk across the room had reached James’s chair. Her mind screamed, "for fuck’s sake acknowledge I’m here," but for a moment he ignored her. Then, as one, and without a word, they moved together. He shuffled forward to the edge of the chair, she came down to sit on his lap, placing one leg either side of him and resting her body against his. Almost instinctively he tensed his muscles to keep them upright as their torsos moulded to one another’s form. Her arms wrapped around his back, his hands glided up to mould around her neck, his fingers pushing into her hair as he brought her lips towards his. The first contact was electrifying. It took them ...