He said he didn’t want to lose me.
A lot has happened since the last time I was at Richard’s. We’d had a massive row and I almost walked out of his flat for good.
Thankfully we sorted it out.
He said he didn’t want to lose me.
I’ve thought about that a lot over the last few weeks. I’ve clung to it in the hope it means something…something that might lead Richard and I becoming more than what we are now.
But as I say, a lot has happened.
There was Kat, who gave me my first experience with another woman. Jim said he wanted to do more with me, and he is damn hot. Steve admitted having feelings for me, and he has been so sweet with me, even if a little infuriating. Saff & Lilly took my experience with women to a whole other level. I started a new customer, John, who I’m really not sure what to make of yet. Mr E, well, what can I say – if anyone knows how to woo a girl and show her a good time, he sure does with his helicopter flights and fancy hotels. Then there was Ryan. Mr E might know how to woo a girl with his flash lifestyle, but Ryan really knows how to woo a girl in the sack. Oh, and how could I forget Oliver! I’m determined to beat Oli at his own game.
Sheesh, writing that down makes me look like a right slut.
But then again, I’m still single and I’ve got a healthy appetite. Why shouldn’t I find different ways to satiate it! We don’t call people food-sluts because they like to try lots of different meals. Maybe we should… and maybe I’ve invented a new term, albeit a slightly derogatory one for those gastro-ponces.
Anyway, I’m back at Richard’s today.
And Richard said he didn’t want to lose me.
My best friend Beth thinks I’m bonkers – not because I’m promiscuous because she is very much the same, but more because I’ve obviously told her all about Richard, and she thinks he’s never going to see me as anything other than his cleaning lady, his char… his scrubber.
I’ve told Beth about the fight Richard and I had, and what he said to me.
He said he didn’t want to lose me.
But Beth says he means he doesn’t want to lose me as a cleaner and occasional shag.
But Beth doesn’t know Richard like I do. She’s only got my side of the story to go on.
Maybe if she met him she’d understand.
He said he didn’t want to lose me.
If you’ve read the previous posts about Richard, you’ll know I have a routine for tackling his stylish and tastefully decorated apartment. You’ll also know that towards the end of the routine he usually comes home.
I’m hoping he comes home early today because I think we need to talk.
A month ago, when I was last here, I had come to Richard’s hoping that seeing him would help me feel better after I’d had a rough time with my mum being ill. I’d tried to initiate a good time with him and it all went dreadfully wrong… so wrong it led to our very volatile, fiery argument.
I’m certainly not planning to initiate anything today!
I’ve finished all the cleaning and the only thing remaining is the ironing, which as usual I’m doing in his lounge. I’m trying to convince myself that I’m feeling calm about seeing him again, but my heart is thumping hard in my chest – it’s not racing, just hammering loudly, letting me know it’s there.
I try not to think about it while I iron one of his white shirts.
It’s funny that isn’t it… trying not to think about something. If you try not to think about something you have to actually think about the thing you’re trying not to thing about. It’s like if I try not to think about a rock hard cock, then all I end up thinking about is a rock hard cock and I end up getting myself all aroused.
Crazy or what…
I concentrate my energy on ironing the shirt in front of me, focussing on the creases and watching them smooth away as the iron moves over them.
I hear Richard’s key in the lock and all thoughts of focusing on the ironing are quashed by the sudden, extra loud pounding of my heart.
It makes me gasp.
Relax Carla… just relax.
He doesn’t want to lose you.
He walks into the lounge and I force myself not to be the first one to speak.
It’s at times like these I feel like often come across like an excited puppy, rushing and gushing up to their owner when they come home, jumping up and barking and licking in excitement.
Today, I’m determined I’m not going to be a puppy. I’ve even toned down how I dress today.
Normally I wear something a little flirty when I clean Richard’s.
Today it’s just cargo slacks and a t-shirt.
‘Hey Carla,’ he says.
I try to gauge his tone.
I look up from the ironing, hoping to give the impression I hadn’t heard him come in. ‘Oh, hey,’ I say with a warm smile.
He’s smiling – good start.
‘How are you doing,’ he says.
‘Really good, thank you. I’ve just got your shirts and trousers to iron, then I’ll be finished.’
‘Excellent,’ he says and he casts an appraising glance around the lounge. ‘Everything looks great Carla.’
‘Thank you. You know I always aim for great.’
‘And you hit it every time,’ he says, still smiling.
It feels like he’s feeling uncertain too. We’re like two teenagers making uncomfortable and clumsy first advances towards each other.
‘I’m going to make some tea,’ he says. ‘Would you like a cup?’
‘Yes please,’ I say. ‘Milk, no sugar please.’
‘I remember,’ he says, plonking his briefcase down on the floor beside the sofa. He disappears into the kitchen and I hear him filling the kettle.
I’m pretty sure my heart is going to burst out of my chest anytime soon.
My god, this feels like hard work…
I finish the last sleeve on the shirt I’m ironing, fold it neatly, place it in on the arm of the sofa, then start on the next shirt.
How can we get past this sticky bit?
Can we? Can we actually get past this sticky bit?
Will things ever be the same again between us?
My mind is running wild and I know it’s definitely my thinking making my heart hammer hard and also my stomach feels fluttery. I try to reign in my unruly thoughts by focussing on the ironing again.
Smooth the creases away Carla… just smooth them away.
Yes, but how?
My mind is back on Richard and the creases in our relationship.
How can I smooth away creases as big as these?
‘I feel like I owe you something,’ says Richard behind me.
‘Shit!’ I say with a start. ‘I didn’t hear you come back in.
‘Sorry,’ he says laughing.
My heart is beating like the clappers now, for a very different reason.
‘Oh jeez… I was miles away then.’
‘I can tell,’ he says. ‘My shirts were clearly getting all of your attention.’
I grip the ends of the ironing board and take a couple of deep breaths, trying to calm myself down.
My voice ripples with little tremors. ‘You said you feel like you owe me something?’
‘Yes,’ he says, moving towards me. ‘This,’ and he wraps his arms around me and hugs me.
My arms automatically snake round his body and I hold him tight. My body moulds into his, matching the contours of his posture, chest to chest, hip to hip, legs touching. I turn my head to the side and rest it on him.
Maybe everything is going to be alright after all.
He gently kisses my head.
I’ve always loved it when a man does that. When he holds you and kisses the top of your head. At last, my heart relaxes and my breathing settles into a calmer, deeper rhythm.
I can feel him breathing against my chest and I’m sure I just felt him sigh.
‘I wasn’t sure how today was going to go,’ he says, releasing me a little and leaning back a little so he can look at me. ‘I was feeling pretty tense about seeing you today.’
‘Me too,’ I say, looking up into his beautiful eyes. His expression is softer today, much softer than it was last time. His forehead is furrowed a little as he looks down at me. Then he smiles.
‘But I have to say,’ he says. ‘I’m glad we’re still on hippy hug terms.’
‘Hippy hug?’ I say looking at his questioningly.
‘Hippy hug,’ he iterates. He laughs.
‘What’s funny?’ I ask, smiling sweetly at him. Oh how things have changed since last time.
‘The look on your face,’ he says. ‘You really have no idea what I mean do you?’
‘Not at all,’ I say with a laugh. ‘What the hell is a hippy hug?’
He lets me go and takes a step back, placing his hands together as though praying. Keeping his fingers pressed together he moves his arms so his palms separate.
‘When a girl gives you a friendly hug you can tell how much she thinks of you by the way she uses her hips.’
‘Don’t be silly,’ I say laughing.
‘I’m not being silly. If you watch people hugging you can see it happen all the time – every time, without fail.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘If she thinks of you as just a friend, she’ll keep her hips away from yours,’ he says, gesturing at his hands with his fingers pressed together and palms apart. ‘But if she likes you, feels comfortable and more intimate with you.’ He presses his palms together. ‘Hippy hug.’
I burst out laughing. ‘That’s so silly,’ I say.
‘But true, nevertheless,’ he says giving me a cheeky wink and a sly grin. ‘And you hippy hugged me.’
‘Well that must mean I’m comfortable with you then.’
Something inside me doesn’t want to admit to feeling intimate with him so I refrain from elaborating.
I’m not ready to tell him I like him.
If I tell him I like him, well, it’ll be out there then. He would know know. He would actually know how I feel about him.
No, I’m not ready to do that.
I’m not willing to do that.
‘And after what happened between us last time,’ he says. ‘I’m really glad you feel that way.’
‘Me too,’ I say. ‘Life is too short to be falling out.’
He reaches his arms out and takes me in them again. And yes, I hippy hug him, now feeling conscious of my hips pressed into him. My head is resting on a side with my ear to his chest, and as well being able to hear his heart thumping in his chest, I’m also conscious of something else, something pressing into me lower down.
‘Richard,’ I say, keeping my head on his chest.
‘What is it?’ He asks.
With my ear on his chest, his voice sounds very different, kind of boomy.
‘It feels like you’re very comfortable with me too,’ I say, referring to his obvious arousal. I’m feeling cheeky, so I continue. ‘It feels like I’m getting a bit more than a hippy hug. It’s more like a dicky hug.’
He laughs loudly, which really booms in my ear. ‘A dicky hug?’
I slide a hand from around his neck, down his chest between our bodies and gently press it against the bulge in his trousers.
I look up at him as he throws his head back and lets out a deep moan.
‘Oh god,’ he says, as though my touching him opened a valve of suppressed tension. ‘Oh god that feels nice.’
I was aiming for bloody wonderful.
I move my hand slowly up and down and he presses himself against it. I curl my fingers a little so they embrace his hard length through the fabric and a deep primal sound resonates in his chest and escapes through his mouth.
‘Jesus woman,’ he says. ‘That’s fucking awesome.’
Now that’s more like it! At least I overshot bloody wonderful.
His hand reaches up behind me and he wraps his fingers in my long hair and pulls my head back so he can kiss me. His tongue thrusts into my mouth and I meet it with mine. While we’re kissing I reach for his trousers with both hands and start undoing them. He’s still holding my head with one hand while his other reaches up under my t-shirt, his fingers forcing their way under my bra, levering it up over my breasts so he can feel me. He grabs one of my breasts and squeezes it hard, pinching my hard nipple between his thumb and forefinger. While we’re still kissing I try to say that I want him.
‘What was that?’ He says, pulling back from the kiss.
‘I want you Richard,’ I say, panting.
Using both hands he undoes my bra and lifts it with my t-shirt and I raise my arms so he can remove them completely, then I get back to getting his trousers undone and drop both them and his boxers to the floor. He steps out of them while grasping at my cargo pants and it’s not long before I’m totally naked, running my hands up under shirt and caressing his chest as he pulls me to him and kisses me again.
With our lips still passionately locked together I feel his hands reach round me and grasping my buttocks he lifts me up towards him. I wrap my legs around his waist and my hands around his neck, and he carries me to the sofa and lowers me down laying on top of me.
Jesus he must be strong! I’m no lightweight.
I hold his waist and slide my hands back up under his shirt reaching for his chest but his shirt stops me. He’s resting on his hands so he can’t lift himself up to take it off.
‘Just rip the fucking thing open,’ he says.
‘Yeah, just do it.’
I don’t need telling twice and I grab both sides of the front of his shirt and yank them apart, but because I don’t know how much strength it will take I overcompensate. His shirt gives way much easier than I anticipated and my arms flay wildly outward into his, dislodging him and making him collapse onto me. Thankfully his head falls into the cushions at the side, otherwise it would have smashed into my face.
I’m such a clumsy arse.
‘Well,’ he says with laugh. ‘That’s one way to do it.’
We both laugh as I pull his ripped shirt down his body and he moves his arms so I can get it off him completely.
‘That’s better,’ I say. ‘I wanted to see all of you.’
He lifts himself back up onto his hands. ‘You like what you see?’
‘Oh yes,’ I say. ‘Always.’ I can feel the lust for him in my eyes and I can tell by the way he’s looking at me that he can see it too.
His hard length is pressed between my legs, his hips gently thrusting with arousal, sliding his cock slowly up and down between my wet lips.
Oh my god, I so badly want to feel him inside me.
‘I want you Richard, I want you inside me, now,’ I say, sliding my hand down between us, taking his length in my hand and guiding it into me.
In one slow movement of his hips he fills me. The thrill makes me feel light headed and a low moan rises up from deep within.
‘Oh my god, that feels amazing,’ I say, reaching down and grasping his firm butt with both hands, pulling him as deep into me as I can while I push myself onto him. I hold him there for a few seconds relishing the feeling of him inside me. My vagina walls…
Jeez, I really don’t like that word – vagina…
My vagina walls pulse and clench around his hard cock and I am in total heaven.
What is it about this man I love so much!
Woah… no, not love.
What is it about this man that thrills me so much!
‘Carla, that feels incredible,’ he says, and the slightly crazed look of lust on his face tells me he means it.
‘I know,’ I pant, releasing his butt so he can move.
He pulls back slowly, almost to the point of pulling out, then his hips begin thrusting. I throw my hands back, behind my head, over the arm of the sofa, surrendering to whatever he wants to do to me.
Before I can stop myself the words ‘I’m all yours Richard,’ have left my mouth and I’m filled with a mixture of lust and horror.
Shit! I can’t believe I just said that.
‘Good,’ he says.
His thrusts speed up and my breasts are shaking like a couple of jellies.
Well, they are… so shut up.
They must look good because Richard is staring at them with an intensity I’ve never seen before. As though he can read my mind he suddenly stops pounding me and drops onto his elbows. Reaching his hands up he grabs my breasts and pushes them together, trying to get both my nipples in his mouth at the same time.
‘Fucking hell,’ I yell, pulling his head onto my breasts and grinding my hips against his. ‘Fuh-king-hell!’
My nipples are hard and he teases each one with his tongue, tracing it around my large, engorged areolas, taking each one between his teeth and gently biting them.
‘Harder,’ I say. ‘Bite them harder,’ and he does.
The feeling of his teeth biting into my sensitive chest buds sets a sensational tingling feeling racing up my spine across the top of my head. I am literally delirious. This gorgeous man… this man that I have more feelings for than any other…. this delicious man is inside me and I am inside him.
I need to be even closer.
His hips are gyrating against mine, but it’s not enough. With one hand round the back of his head, and my other hand on his butt, I pull his head deeper into my breasts and his crotch deeper into me. I grind my hips against his, pushing my pulsing clitoris hard against his pubic bone and it takes me to the point I’ve been seeking. As I fall headlong into the throws of a climax I release his head and I hear him gasp as he comes up for air. My voice is shaky as I tell Richard to fuck me hard again.
‘Turn over,’ he says.
‘What?’ I say, barely hearing him, my senses still overloaded from my orgasm.
‘Turn over baby,’ he says.
I’m still trembling as I try and do as he says, my legs don’t feel like they’re listening to my brain. Thankfully once I’m more or less in position Richard does the rest and moves me into place so he can get to me more easily. I feel too weak to support myself on my hands so I collapse into the cushions, turning my head to one side so I can see Richard out of the corner of my eye. He takes my butt cheeks in his hands and parts them, giving him a great view of whatever he wants to take. The head of his penis nudges against my wet labia, then he’s inside me and we both moan simultaneously.
His hands move from my butt to my hips. He grasps them, his fingers digging into my flesh getting a good hold, then he starts pounding me like a steaming piston. The head of his penis keeps hitting the sweet spot and it’s not long before I feel the familiar tingle, cascading into a spectacular second orgasm.
‘Oh god Richard, I’m cumming.’
The walls of my wet honey pot clench around his cock and I feel something I’ve never felt before.
I think I almost ‘squirted’.
My whole body convulses and shakes like a rag doll and my eyes roll up into my head. If it were possible my legs feel even more like jelly than before and it’s a good job Richard has a firm hold on me.
‘Christ Carla, you’re so tight, and wet.’
‘I know,’ I pant. ‘I can feel it. It’s what you do to me.’
‘It’s fucking great,’ he says.
I feel so light headed I feel like I might faint but I don’t want it to stop. Richard keeps going with his piston pounding rhythm, building himself up to his own sexual explosion. He must sense my strength coming back because he takes one hand off my hip and drags his nails from the nape of my neck, scratching all the way down my back. It’s wonderful and I moan deeply as my back arches involuntarily.
‘Oh god, do that again,’ I say, and he does which produces the same reaction in me. This time though he stops and hooks his thumb round the bottom of my spine, teasing it gently over my balloon knot.
‘Can I?’ He asks.
‘Do it,’ I say.
He lifts his hand to his mouth and licks his thumb making it wet, then he places his hand on my lower back and hooks his thumb round again. He slows his pounding pace and on an in stroke his slips his thumb easily into my dark passage.
‘Oh hell yes,’ I say.
The rest of his fingers splay and grasp my lower back like a claw which sends electric feelings around my cheeks and into my wet heaven. The thoughts I’m having about Richard being inside more of me than ever, enhances and amplifies my feelings both about him and what he’s doing to me; it sends me spiralling towards another climax. My scalp tingles and my hair feels like it’s stood on end. Richard’s breathing takes on a more rapid pace as does his thrusting.
‘I’m coming baby,’ says Richard.
‘Me too,’ I say, my voice muffled by the cushion my face is pressed into.
His thrusts become shorter, more punchy and staccato like as he reaches his point of no return. I’m feeling delirious and light headed again and a slow motion explosion begins down low. Richard grunts and moans as the first throes of his pleasure release inside me. At that point I feel myself clenching around his cock again, this time it’s stronger and more volatile, forcing Richard out of me, and there’s a gushing feeling.
‘Jesus Carla, when did you start squirting?’
I can barely discern his words because it feels like there is an orchestra playing in my ears as my body thrashes and shudders out of my control.
‘Oh-my-fucking-god,’ I say, and collapse flat out, sprawled face down on the sofa.
‘Holy shit,’ Richard says. ‘Are you okay?’
‘I think so,’ I say, trying to turn my head so I can see him, but it’s not happening, I’m too weak. ‘I’ve never had one like that before.’
‘Really! What was it like for you?’
‘It was fucking incredible,’ he says. ‘I’ve seen porn where people squirt, but I’ve never been with anyone who actually squirts.’
‘What do you mean?’ I ask, slowly turning myself round to face him as my strength returns.
He’s sat back on his knees which along with his whole hip and groin area are glistening wet.
‘What happened?’ I say.
‘You did,’ he says. ‘It was amazing. You pushed me out of you as you orgasmed. Actually it would be accurate to say you gushed me out – it was like a geyser.’
‘Really? I did that?’ I feel quite incredulous. His sofa is soaking. ‘Shit, I’m so sorry.’
‘Don’t be… it was amazing,’ he says, his face lit with a goofy grin. ‘I’ve never seen anything like it.’
I push myself upright, my strength feeling returning to normal, nevertheless there’s a residual aching… a pleasurable aching in my body, especially in my foo-foo. My tight little balloon knot is also tingling too, from where his thumb was inside me. I feel exhausted and yet really alive, all in the same breath.
‘To be honest, I’ve never felt anything like it,’ I say. ‘I thought I was going to pass out.’
‘The way your eyes were rolling and your toes curled, I thought you’d lost it. You looked like you were having some kind of seizure.’
‘I did feel pretty out of control,’ I say. It ‘Shit, I am so sorry about your sofa.’
‘Seriously, don’t be, I’m not. It can be cleaned, and it was so worth it to experience… that.’
I check the expression on his face and he’s grinning like a big kid.
‘I’ll make you a deal,’ he says.
I eye him up suspiciously. ‘What kind of a deal?’
‘Are you in a rush to get off?’ He asks?
I say no in that long drawn out way that means I suspect something he’s going to say something dodgy.
He laughs at me. ‘Look, I was only going to say I’ll order us a takeaway if you clean up the sofa.’
‘Oh okay… fair enough,’ I say with a giggle.
We decide on Indian with a chicken tikka balti for me, and he goes off into the kitchen in search of a menu, leaving me to clean up the sofa.
I notice that in the passionate frenzy we’ve knocked all the shirts I’d ironed off the sofa and onto the floor and they’re all creased again now. I should really be pissed off with myself, but I’m not.
At least I know now that the differences with me and Richard are ironed out.
And I now know how to get the creases out of more than just his shirts.