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Summer Heat – Part Seven

14 October, 2012

I’m a bit behind with this story, but here is the latest instalment. It’s not as rude as some of the others so if it’s rumpy pumpy or how’s your father that you are after, or you just want to read previous chapters, click here. Otherwise, let’s join Toby in his room…

 

Summer Heat – Part Seven

Toby returned his mobile to the bedside cabinet, and smiled as he imagined Jessica opening his text, seeing the picture of them laying side-by-side on his bed. “A reminder of an unbelievable night” he had said to her as the phone clicked the image into its memory. His phone alerted him to her text reply, a simple smiley and two kisses.

He laid back, placed his hands behind his head, and sighed contentedly. He felt his arousal growing as he relived the night before in his mind. The filming on the bed, the fucking on the bed, the talking as they lay between the sheets, the relaxed feeling between the two of them. The way she had walked shamelessly nude to the kitchen to fetch glasses of water, and oh god, the kitchen. Her soft, skilful, passionate lips in the kitchen that had started that whole crazy night. He looked down to the tented duvet, but was content just to feel his hardness against the cotton. The recollections of the night were all the satisfaction he needed for now, and he kept his hands where they were. But hoped that she was free later that evening for a repeat performance.

He had fancied Jessica from a distance, a distance that was mainly kept by her he thought, for a while. He had seen her on the stairs a few times to nod and say hello to, but she always seemed busy, aloof maybe, and whenever he had tried to start a conversation, she had rushed indoors, or out for the evening, and he wondered if she had been deliberately avoiding him. He had watched from his window on the morning her car wouldn’t start, but by the time he had pulled some clothes on and decided he would rush downstairs to offer his help, or at least to offer use of his RAC card, the engine had finally spluttered into life and she had driven impatiently away. He knew from the piles of post on the table by the main door that she gave money to animal charities, opinions to political surveys, and blood to the hospital. She bought books and DVDS and clothes from the internet, she was on the mailing list for the theatre and the tiny art-house cinema, but he didn’t know what she bought or watched. Not that he was prying or snooping he told himself, he just noticed these things when he was picking up his own bills and junk mail. He told this to Karen too, his friend and confidante, and she had agreed that he wasn’t overstepping any boundaries, he was just observing. But he liked visiting the cinema too, he was vaguely interested in politics, and always felt that maybe Jessica and he would have some things in common if he could just manage to talk to her.

He felt lucky, he thought, that his chance to speak with her, to bond with her, had finally come last night, even if it was in such strange circumstances. He felt lucky that despite the distance she seemed to keep from all the neighbours in the block, she had still decided to come to him, even if it had been with accusations and anger. He felt lucky that the anger she had directed towards him had brought the two of them together, but that it had melted away, even if she had needed to see those revealing, personal pictures in order to believe him. He felt lucky that he had them on his phone for her to see and that they had seemed to convince her that he had not been spying. And that they had been the catalyst for what was to come after.

But mostly he felt lucky that he when he had heard footsteps, loud stamping footsteps on the stairs, he had guessed rightly that it was her. And that there had been time to find those blurred, long-distance pictures of her behind the trees, barely visible but obviously naked on the grass, and to delete them just moments before she had knocked on his door.

 

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4 Comments
  1. TheOthers1 permalink

    Whaa?! Well, now that was interesting. Very interesting. Nice.

    • The Reclining Gentleman permalink

      i know, i was surprised when i found that out too!

  2. Aha. I had been wondering whether he might have been the one taking photos of her after all……

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