Marmite on toast

So, following Alice’s 24 hours of cock, we spent the entire weekend in bed having wonderful one-on-one girlie sex. From the early hours of Friday night until Sunday evening neither of us got dressed. My diet consisted mostly of pussy, my mouth seemingly cemented to Alice’s cunt (and hers to mine).

Neither of us wanted to get up and go anywhere – apart from occasional visits to the kitchen to make mugs of tea and plates of marmite on toast. I fell completely in love with her. She talked to me about fucking girls and how much she had missed fucking boys. I was swinging between horrible jealousy of the things that she’d been doing with the Italian bird and being immensely proud of myself for bringing the end to her “cock drought”. Obviously everything I was thinking could have been summarised by the concept that if she stuck with me then I could provide her with both. Surely this was a no-brainer? If she stayed with me, then we could have everything.

When Sunday evening came round I was utterly miserable when we went to Victoria so she could catch her train.

There were tears in my eyes when she went through the ticket barrier but she turned back and kissed me. “Call Ted,” she said, “tell him to come over. Tell him that I want him to fuck you stupid. I’ll be back soon”.

As I walked across the concourse I called him, and bless him he said that he'd come over straight away.