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Before long she was naked on her bed, her fingers sliding into her wet cunt, rubbing her clit as she read what I wanted to do to her. It was all harmless fun and satisfied a need in both of us. I loved to encourage her. Always trying to push her a little further. In December, Lou was out for Christmas drinks with an old friend. I hate these kind of functions, I'm unsociable at the best of times, and I usually find people at these things incredibly boring. I'm better one to one, and abhor big. Diane, the co-hostess, wore a very short black leather halter-top dress accompanied by five-inch spike heels. A number of women wore slip dresses that revealed a variety of thongs, see through bras, stockings and tan, well toned bare legs. A couple of rather severe looking, but unarguably beautiful women wore dark suit jackets that stopped just below their bottoms. Below that they wore only stockings held in place by garter belts and very high spike heels. With a couple of glasses of good. I actually remember taking a short bathrobe too. I silently crept up the stairs, not wanting to wake anybody and be faced with prying questions. I arrived at the door to the supply room; light was showing under the door. I knocked once, quietly and then pushed open the door. Now, I just remembered that I hadn’t told you what the room looked like. It was just below the roof, so the far wall was inclined, and there was 1 small niche with a window. On the far left was the closet with all the spare. And like all relationships we had our ups and downs. That horrible night when we had our first fight and I stormed out. Walking the streets for hours, my anger subsiding and turning to regret and finally becoming fear, fear at losing you, fear at having messed up the greatest thing in my life. I walk further and further into the night, wanting to go back to you but afraid to at the same time, not noticing the rain or the tears that run unchecked down my face, until finally I find myself near.
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