COME FLY WITH ME

Will a holiday in South America solve all their problems?

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1. COME FLY WITH ME

 

Jessica always turned Brian’s photograph to the wall when Clive was in bed with her.

 

It was as if she didn’t want him to see what they were doing, and turning the strikingly blond, good-looking young man away from the action, so to speak, was some kind of spectral or superstitious means of preventing him from finding out what she and Clive were up to. What they were doing, that is. Between the sheets. Behind Brian’s back. When he was away. With nothing on but the CD player. In other words, as naked as the day they were born.

 

Brian, the man in the picture now facing nothing but the cracks in the plaster, was her fiancée. But he was away so often recently that she found herself spending more and more time with Clive, her new friend from the office. And most of their time together was spent in bed where what they got up to was always more stimulating, daring and exciting than anything she’d ever done with Brian.

 

For example, right now, he was standing at the foot of the bed with an amazing looking battery-driven contraption. ‘Just wait,’ he said, ‘you’ll love this when you see how it works. And when you feel how it works. Which is going to be as soon as I can get it going. Are you sure you’re ready for a new and exciting experience?’ They both knew that they both knew the answer to that rhetorical question.

 

Had this been Brian, she thought fleetingly, he would probably have used a euphemism to ask if she minded taking her clothes off. Despite his beautiful body, one that most men would have grasped at every opportunity to show off, he was embarrassed by nudity. Especially his own.

 

This puritan streak was probably because Brian came from a dreary, prudish and narrow-minded family, and he’d been unable to throw off his upbringing. So he rarely swore, he was disappointed that Jessica didn’t like going to church with him on Sundays, he avoided talking about their bodies, and although he’d had a few steady girlfriends, his attitude towards sex could only be described as plodding.

 

Even though he was now her fiancée, she had known him from childhood. So perhaps because they had grown up together had something to do with it, or it may have been because they knew each other too well, or maybe they saw their relationship as that of virtual brother and sister, or, well… whatever it was, their physical relationship was not up to scratch. No, not by a long chalk.

 

Clive was, in many ways, just the opposite, and her new relationship with him had certainly stimulated her sexual appetite. With a vengeance, as even she herself was inclined to conclude.

 

By now, it must be obvious surely, that this is going into areas where some readers may not wish to go. In other words, it’s not a conventional love story. So, although there’s no bad language, please don’t read any further if you are offended by the exploration of sexual matters, certain of which may be considered by some, perhaps more conventional people, to be a little off the wall.

 

Jessica had initially been attracted by Clive’s graceful, dark, and, despite his age, still youthful-looking, androgynous, almost beautiful body. In Jessica’s limited, but not exactly inexperienced opinion, he was quite well endowed, but even he could never truthfully use a word as simple as big. What he did with it was another thing. Something else altogether. And he was adept at using other parts of his body too. Not only his hands and toes either. She soon found out that his tongue was a worthy collaborator and he used it to compliment his erectile muscle to a… well, what other word is there? To a wonderful degree. And he had and cultivated a natural way of deriving pleasure out of giving as well as receiving sexual stimulation.

 

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