What was she thinking?

The elevator was full of couples

going to change after the cocktails for the

formal dinner, chirpilly excited.

Some of the men checked her out

surreptitiously as she checked out

their wives, wondering whether they could

guess what she was about to do.

Her ad was, she supposed, direct:

“Good girl wants, for one night,

to be bad”, and the

mirrored back wall certainly showed a

good girl reddening in

anticipation of whatever

awaited her above in the no doubt

impersonal hotel suite in which,

she had decided, there would be

no “No”.

(For J x)

Lacanau-Océan

“Bare sun bares skin”, she thought as her

husband fucked her there

in the dunes not far from the

Atlantic breakers and people

sunning themselves but a

million miles from the self she was a

week ago in wet Surrey.

How had it come so suddenly to this?

Naked and splay-legged in the

gloriously open air?

She heaved up her loins to meet his

thrusts and her eyes rolled open to see

their audience, a young couple,

bare, brown and blond, his

substantial erection growing to meet her

blindly searching hand.

The only cock she’d ever known

ploughed her as she wondered what the

boy’s would feel like and how the

bald peach of the girl would taste and she

startled herself, coming hard and loud,

provoking her husband to do likewise, and

when she opened her eyes again

they’d gone and she hoped they would

come again tomorrow.

Vagazzling

Is your vagina not beautiful enough?

You’ve taken the trouble to

shave or wax it bare and I’m

grateful, though if it were a

jungle I would still love it for the

scents, odours, flavours of your

femininity, the pulsing

heart of your sex, the

fulcrum of our fucklife, the

lips I like to kiss and

kiss and not taste fake jewels the

desire for which would make me feel

less of a man.

Simmer

Simmer me gently on

a low heat, don’t

let me come

to the boil but

baste me

now and then with

piquant juices and

add spice

from time to time and

be ready when things

come to a head and

eat

immediately.

Bitextual

Sometimes she would find the

perfect couple who lived

just  far enough away for it to be

inconvenient, just near enough to be

tempting, so that between their trysts her

phone throbbed endlessly with texts from

one or other, keeping her

humidity high, her

erogeny on edge, her

work zoned out.

“Miss yr lips” “Which ones?”

“Fresh creampie—want it?”

Sometimes she would intrude into their

late-night sex:

“Is he in u?” “U in her?”

“Rim him like I rimmed u—dare?”

“Fk her tight little arse for me”

“Gonna DP u next time.”

And all the time her pussy

clenched at the thought of being

hooked on slender

scarlet-tipped fingers or riven by

blunt cock, trapped between

smooth and hairy skin.

(Copyright 21/6/11)

"Accident"

It was raining the day they were to

shoot her scenes and Dirk just

shrugged the way he did and

studied the crossword.

It wasn’t a big part—the

wronged wife in a

merry-go-round of infidelity

amidst the upper-middle class.

The script was by Pinter and a

tad pretentious but it was

work and she didn’t want it

to go to waste, so she

found the oilskin and the

sou’wester and went without

shoes on the wet grass despite the

sparks’ cables snaking nearby.

She thought she might seem silly,

not thinking how erotic she looked—

a barefoot English rose in a

mackintosh, all wet.