Ah, the simple life.
I’m so glad Fanta convinced me to take a chance when she inherited a rustic property in the country, complete with largehome, stables, and even a little chapel on the 200 acres.
Everything is better here: the air, the sunshine, the food… and the sex. Man, the sex is fucking incredible here. We can do it just about anywhere and everywhere, we can be as loud as we want, and best of all, we take our sweet time if we want to.
And that’s a luxury for us rats newly liberated from the race. We both moved to the big city for work, and we met at a huge office party where lots of companies book tables. We hit it off immediately, and we danced all night, grabbing and clutching each others’ asses and laughing. Even when we sat to catch our breath and have yet another drink, we kept touching, my hand on her stockinged thigh, hers on my silk tie, feeling my chest underneath. When we talked, we found we had so much in common—we both had e-mail jobs, and we both loved the excitement of the city but found climbing the career ladders left so little time for socialising and rest. We were stimulated and exhausted at the same time.
Another thing we had in common—neither of us wanted to wait to get back to one of our tiny apartments before we could finally release our pent-up need to get naked and naughty. I dragged her into a large closet, and there in the dark with the soft winter coats, I wrapped my hand in her hair and pulled her close, kissing her deeply, deeper than we had dared on the dancefloor. She grabbed my ass and pulled me into her, one leg wrapped around mine, and I used my other hand to grabher rear in return.
The kiss sent my lust...
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Read all about the wonderful author: JK Mill
