Valentine

On Saturday morning I was lying in bed with the Irishman, he was curled up behind me with his cock in my cunt fucking me slowly and lovingly. My hand was resting on his bum, pulling him gently against me, feeling the muscles in his buttocks flex as he filled my pussy. The girl had left my bed and was in the shower. The scent of her pussy was on my face and it was on his mouth, we could smell her sweat on the sheets, but for now the sex was about us. I was almost overwhelmed with love for him. As he fucked me slowly from behind I could feel the sensation in my poor arse, he’d buggered me so relentlessly the night before that my bum ached with the proud memory and I felt that I totally belonged to him.

It had been a very strange Valentine’s Day. There had been no cosy candlelit dinner or red roses. Instead the three of us met after work for a drink and we had quietly but rather gracelessly mocked the couples meeting to enjoy their romantic evenings together. Instead Chloe poured overpriced pink bubbly into three glasses on the table in front of us as I lifted my bum off the seat and let Ted pull my knickers off my hips and down to my knees. When the sheer scarlet satin and black lace thong slipped down over my calves I lifted my high heels out of them to allow the Irishman to bend down and pick them up off the floor. He held my panties in his hand and spread the soft material out across his hand. The juices of my cunt had darkened the fabric to show him how the anticipation of fucking him affected me.

We all took a cab home, and as we stood in the street waiting for a taxi for hire to come along Chloe and I felt his fingers in each of our cunts.