My Clocking In System

Sunday I’d been learning her. Where slow worked, where she went quiet, where she went loud, what made her thighs shake, what made her hand tighten.

Tonight I knew every bit of it and used every bit of it and it took half the time.

Two fingers into her pussy, curling up into that swollen ridge inside her, mouth back down on her clit.

"Fuck... fuck, both, do both, oh God do both..."

Back off the sofa.

"Danny... Danny I’m going to... I’m..."

"Come on then."

"don’t stop don’t stop don’t..."

"DANNY!"

She went off with her back arched clean off the cushions and her fist in my hair hard enough to bring tears up, her cunt clamping down round my fingers in long hard pulls, thighs locked round my ears, and she was loud, properly loud, louder than Sunday, and upstairs definitely got the gist.

I stayed with her through all of it, mouth gone soft on her clit, feeling every wave go through her.

Then her hand pushed weakly at my forehead.

"Off. Off off off. Too much."

I sat back and wiped my mouth on the back of my hand.

Flat out. T-shirt round her ribs. Chest going. Eyes shut.

"Well," she told the ceiling.

"Mm."

"That’s the starter dealt with."

I put my forehead down on her thigh and laughed till my ribs hurt.

"Don’t... don’t, my legs have gone... come here..."

I came up. She got my t-shirt off over my head, went straight for my belt, got it open, shoved my jeans and shorts down, and wrapped her hand round my cock.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"You poor thing." One long slow stroke of her fist up my cock, thumb over the head, and something came out of me that I had no vote in.

Her other hand came down and cupped my balls, weighing them, rolling them in her palm, and my hips went on their own. "Look at the state of you, Danny Flynn."

"Jodie..."

"Mm?"

"You keep doing that and this gets embarrassing for me."

"Well we can’t have that." She let go, lay back, pulled me down by the shoulders. "Come here."

I got her t-shirt off on the way down because I wanted all of her, and there they were, full and heavy and pale with the freckles going down over the tops, nipples already stiff and dark pink.

Mouth on one.

"Ahh... yes. God, yes..."

Sucked hard. She arched right up into it. I got the other nipple between my thumb and finger and rolled it and she started swearing at the ceiling in a steady stream that didn’t stop until she ran out of air.

"Danny. Danny. Enough. Get your cock in me."

She opened her legs and got her hand down between us and lined me up herself, which she’d done Sunday too, and eleven days ago she’d let me do it, and somewhere in between it had become hers.

"Slow first. I’m still sore from Sunday."

"Slow."

"Then not slow."

"Understood."

I pushed my cock into her pussy slow.

"Ohhh..." Nails in my shoulders. "Ah. God. Yeah..."

"All right?"

"Mm... mm... keep going, slowly, all of it..."

All of it, one long push, until I was buried in her cunt to the root, and a groan came up out of me from under my ribs that I couldn’t have stopped with both hands.

She laughed, breathless, into my throat. "There he is."

"Shut up."

"I like it. Do it again."

Legs up round my waist. Both of us stopped there for a second, my cock all the way in her, her breathing in bits underneath me.

"Hi."

"Hi."

"Every time I forget how much of you there is."

"That a compliment?"

"Take it how you like, just move."

I moved.

Slow, like she asked, long and deep with my forehead on hers, and she talked the whole way through it because she always does, even here, especially here.

"Yeah... yeah... like that..."

"Good?"

"Don’t fish."

"Not fishing."

"You’re fishing and yes obviously, ah..."

Deeper, and she stopped finishing anything.

"Danny... Danny harder, I said not slow, I did say..."

"You did."

"So?"

Hand under her arse, lifted her into it, gave her what she asked for.

"AH! Yes... yes... oh God there... there..."

The sofa was complaining and neither of us cared. Her tits going with every stroke and I watched them do it and she caught me at it and grinned up at me with her mouth open and her hair everywhere.

"Go on then," she got out. "You’ve been staring at them since the shop."

Mouth back on one, sucking hard on her nipple while I drove into her cunt, and the noise she made went straight down my spine and into my balls.

"Ahh... both... do both... do the... mmh..."

"Like that?"

"Like that..."

"Christ, Jodie."

"I know..."

"You’re going to finish me."

"Good. That’s the idea. That’s been the idea since half ten this morning..."

Hands in my hair, pulling my face up to hers.

"Look at me."

I looked at her.

"Do it properly. Come on. Give it to me properly, Danny."

So I stopped being careful.

Harder, deeper, my cock driving into her, the sofa knocking the wall and her tits shaking with every stroke and her heels locked in the small of my back, and she held my eyes for as long as she could manage which wasn’t long at all before her head went back and her mouth came open.

"Ah! Ah! Danny I’m... oh God I’m going to..."

"I know. I’ve got you."

"Say it."

"Come for me."

She went off around me.

Whole body pulled tight, her cunt clamping down on my cock in hard long waves, and the noise out of her wasn’t a word, wasn’t near one.

And that was me finished.

"Where... Jodie..."

"Inside." Straight away, fierce, right in my ear, still shaking. "In me. Don’t you dare do anything else."

I came in her buried to the root, balls drawing up tight with every pulse of it, her legs locked round me and her arms round my head and her mouth going yes, yes, that’s it, God, yes at my temple the whole way through, and I heard myself make a sound against her neck I’d have been mortified by any other night of my life.

Then nothing. Just the pair of us breathing.

I got down onto my forearms above her.

"Danny."

"Mm."

"The casserole."

I started laughing and couldn’t stop, face in her neck, still inside her, Jodie Carter laughing underneath me and hitting my shoulder with no strength in it at all.

"It’ll be ruined, that’s a proper casserole, that had herbs in it..."

"How long’s it been?"

She squinted through the kitchen door at the cooker clock. "Forty minutes."

"That’s fine."

"That is not fine, it’s a casserole, it’s not a..." She gave up. "Oh sod it. Ruined. Everything I make for you gets ruined. First the chips, now this. I’m going to stop cooking, it’s clearly a waste of my life."

"You could feed me after."

"After." She snorted. "There’s never an after with you. There’s just more."

"There’s an after."

"Is there..."

"There’s one right now. If it’s gone there’s a chip shop on the corner and I’ve got twenty quid."

She went quiet under me.

Then her hand came up to the side of my face, thumb going along my cheekbone, and her whole expression went somewhere else entirely.

"You’re a good one," she said. "Aren’t you. Underneath all the mystery nonsense."

I didn’t have anything for that.

A phone face down in a coat pocket on her floor. A third floor at twenty to eight. Seven years of a life I never lived sat in a solicitor’s inbox in Clapham.

"I’m trying to be."

Truest thing I’d said to anybody all day.

She looked at me a moment longer.

Then smacked me hard on the arse and I yelped.

"Right. Off. The casserole waits for no man and I am starving, Danny Flynn, you’ve wrecked me twice and I’ve had one packet of Quavers since eleven."