Andy the gay policeman rings with
a problem. His one-night-stand has dropped a glass while barefoot in
the kitchen, stepped back onto a big piece of broken glass and is now
running round the flat dripping blood and getting visibly paler by the
moment. “Your chap’s a doctor so I thought I’d ring you.”
“Yes,
David’s a doctor, I’m a historian. I can explain the historical
circumstances of the discovery that cholera is a water-born disease or
discuss the relationship between mass European programmes of public
health education and Nazi theories of racial stereotyping but I can’t
tell you how to stop your casual shag’s toe from bleeding.”
“Ugh,
it’s all over the carpet – stand still you silly mare – I read
somewhere that saliva’s antiseptic and that’s why we suck our fingers
when we cut them. Do you think I should suck his toe?”
“I don’t know. Yes, okay, if you think it will help.”
And
that’s how D comes home to find me sitting on the floor giggling and
shouting, “Suck it, suck it harder, now spit on it!” down the phone.
“Lucy, have you taken up telephone sex without telling me?”
“No,
you see Andy met this bloke in Soho last night and, well, not so much
Soho itself, more towards Leicester Square really and…”
“Is this going to be a very long story?”
“…and he’s bleeding to death on the carpet.”
D
snatches the phone off me and starts barking very stern instructions
about sitting still and elevating his foot and putting pressure in
different places. Once they’re safely dispatched off to casualty to get
it stitched D gives me a telling off for not taking it seriously
because apparently you can very quickly lose enough blood from a cut
foot to go into shock. I’m chastened but a bit narked too, because I
don’t see why I should have been expected to know that. Ask me a
question about the Wars of the Roses.
We go for a slightly
bad-tempered drink up in Hampstead and bump into J, the second
policemen in this post, who I’ve never met before but you’ve met here Party Like It's 1973.
Even someone as well brought up as I am can struggle with etiquette
sometimes. What do you say when first introduced to a man who supplied
your boyfriend with disposable plastic handcuffs for sexual purposes?
It turns out he’s very nice and non-creepy and we chat happily with him
and his friends about flat-hunting and work and holidays. D and I even
forget we’re meant to be having an argument.
At closing time, I nip into the loos for a going-out wee and D sends me a text.
D: What do you think?
L: About what?
D: About J
L: He seems nice
D: Shall I ask him?
L: Ask him what
D: Ask him home
L: Why?
D: God you’re thick
L: Oh. Do you want to?
D: Say yes, slut
L: Not all his friends!
D: Just him. Say yes.
And
so I do. I hide in the loos for a bit longer than I need to because I
can’t imagine what conversation D will have with J to actually broach
the subject. And it occurs to me with horror that they might have had
the conversation before D started texting me and they’ve both been
reading my replies. I try to push this idea to the back of my mind, put
on my lipstick, hold my tummy in and step back into the bar, which is
almost empty now as the staff gather glasses and put chairs on tables.
We
walk home, striding quickly and panting slightly as we hurry up hill,
talking as we go. I put my hands in my pockets and D slides his hand
into one pocket beside mine, curling his little finger round mine, a
small reassurance.
How do you start a thing like this? I flap
about offering tea or coffee, or maybe a sandwich or I could make
cheese on toast? D puts his hands on my waist and steers me into the
bedroom. I flap some more, starting to tell the story of how we broke
the bed as a comedy anecdote. D puts his hand over my mouth and J
stands in front of me, sliding his hands over my hips and up under my
top, stroking them over my ribs and cupping my tits. All the way home
I’ve been aware of how wet my pussy is but now, sandwiched between
them, feeling their bodies trembling against mine, I suddenly want to
rip at my clothes and fling myself naked onto the floor, let them
invade my body, tear me apart. D must feel me tense because he whispers
in my ear, “Slowly.”
They undress me and themselves, carefully
peeling off each garment, folding it, taking their time. J kneels at my
feet, examining my clit piercing, touching it with the tip of his
tongue and making me whimper. D wraps his arms around me from behind,
one hand parting my sticky cunt lips for J’s tongue to lap deeper
inside me, the other squeezing my breast. I turn my head and kiss him,
gasping into his mouth as J’s tongue probes deeper. Our kiss finally
ends and J licks my belly, catching my belly-button ring between his
teeth and tugging it as he looks up at me. D kisses my neck and says,
“Fuck her.”
Something inside my belly flips over and my legs
feel weak because hearing D tell this man I barely know to fuck me is
just about the most exciting thing I’ve ever heard. As he stands and
kisses me I wrap my hand around his cock, feeling it hot and velvety
hard in my palm, different from D’s, twitching and excited. I mumble,
“Fuck me” into his kiss and we stumble onto the bed, stretching out
with him on top and I spread my legs wide and let him in, moaning
softly as he slips in easily. We grind slowly against each other,
arching and gasping and kissing each other’s mouths and necks and
shoulders. D lies on the bed beside us, watching. I reach out to touch
his face and he turns his head, biting the palm of my hand, sucking and
nipping my fingers as J starts to thrust faster. I slither the fingers
of my other hand down to my clit, rubbing it as he fucks me, wanting to
cum on his cock, squeezing my cunt tightly round his shaft. He freezes,
his face screwed up with tension, then with a series of sharp stabs he
shoots his spunk into me and I rub my clit furiously desperate to cum
but not quite there.
I choke off my gasp of disappointment as he
rolls off me, flopping onto the bed at my side. D rolls on top,
plugging himself into my sloppy cunt, humping me hard and nipping the
thin skin at my chin and collar bone with his teeth. J leans across and
cups D’s balls from behind. For a moment D loses his rhythm and I watch
his face, his eyes glazed, slowly focusing on mine. I lift both hands
to where he can see them, wiggling them to prove it’s not me and
getting the giggles. D snarls at me and starts fucking faster, growling
and moaning as J continues to stroke and gently squeeze his balls.
Suddenly D hits a perfect angle and my eyes widen and I hiss, “Yessss”
and I’m cumming, grunting and scraping at his back with my fingernails.
He groans out a few more strokes and floods me with cum, covering my
mouth with his hand to muffle my final whimpers.
We lie in a
jumbled heap, breathing hard for a few minutes, then D slaps my arse
and says, “Tea, woman!” As I trot off obediently to put the kettle on D
lights up a spliff. We lounge about talking for a while but I’ll admit
I’m distracted by the close proximity of two beautiful cocks. As they
sit side by side on the bed, I suck first one, then the other, showing
off my best, sloppy, cheek-bulging, deep-throating cock-sucking
technique. J is the first to kneel up, scraping my hair back into a
pony tail and holding my head back, his hand cupped under my chin as he
slides his cock back into my mouth. D kneels behind me, rubbing his
fingers through my slit for a few minutes, pinching and teasing my
clit, listening to me moan into J’s cock, then shoving his cock into my
pussy, fucking me with quick, firm strokes that jerk me forward,
gagging as I swallow J’s cock deeper. J pulls back suddenly and sprays
my face with spunk, making me squeak with surprise. D laughs and slaps
my arse, fucking faster. J lifts me up off my hands until I’m kneeling
upright with my arms wrapped around him, kissing him as D keeps fucking
me. J pinches my clit between his fingers, rolling and rubbing it in a
slow circle and I squirm back against D, groaning as I start to cum. D
pulls out while I’m still twitching and rolls me onto my back,
straddling my face as he goes to wank his cock into my face. But then J
reaches over and wraps his fingers around D’s cock. I can see D
hesitate for a moment and then let J slide his fingers over the head of
his cock and down to its base over and over until it jerks and spurts
spunk in long sticky trails onto my lips and cheeks and chin.
In
the hall, dimly lit by the first light of dawn filtering through the
stained glass in the door, J cups my face in his hands and kisses me.
Then turns to D and does the same while I hop up and down delightedly.
We wave him off then stand staring at each other.
“Well, that was very…”
“Yes it was, wasn’t it?”