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Tonight he’s mine completely.

We move together in the darkness. In the silence. I know these moments are precious, I know I should savour each one, because in times to come it might not be like this.

We are both drunk, granted, so the sex is not perfect. It is more fumbling, clumsy. Our sweating bodies move together, each of us seeking our joint pleasure and that final joyful – yet so far elusive – release.

The preceding evening returns to my mind in disjointed flashback.

It is the start of winter and the nights are drawing in. By the time I arrived in town it was already dark and I feared I was late. I hurriedly clip-clopped my way through town in my new boots. They had taken me some time put on as the soft leather needed to be wrapped just so around my calves. The boots were not yet broken in and the high heels were already making my feet ache, but it was worth it as they looked beautiful.

I heard a shout – my clip-clopping had alerted my friends to my arrival and we happily made our way to the pub together, where we passed a pleasant few hours together.

My relationship is a secret and the thrill of keeping it so has not waned. I chatted with him amiably and I talked to our other drinking companions, never giving anything away. He went to the bar and got me a drink while giving me loaded looks all the way back to our table.

I don’t know why we keep it a secret. I’ve often mused over what it would be like to be out in the open, but at the moment it seems to suit us as it is. We have not spoken about our feelings. I just trust that he – my Max – is really into me. And there is something about the secrecy and the feeling şişli escort of naughtiness that makes the whole situation . . . Potent.

Would it cause such a storm if we were to be honest with all our friends? Maybe not, but we are not yet ready to present ‘us’ to the world.

Later in the evening Max asked if I would like to stay the night at his home. Alcohol had definitely lowered our inhibitions, as we both knew he already had another friend staying in his tiny house that night. But I agreed – of course I wanted to stay the night! I had not yet spent the night with him, and the anticipation sent the alcohol to my head even more.

One by one our friends left the pub until there was just three of us left standing. I needed to get my nightclothes (and deodorant and toothbrush!) from my car if I was to stay at his so Max gave our mutual friend his house key and we walked to the car park together.

I opened the passenger door and reached into the back for my rucksack. As I did so he leaned in behind me, pressing his body against mine, and all of a sudden we were both sat on the seat drunkenly snogging like teenagers.

Conscious of being spotted, I told him we had to stop, so I locked the car and we walked back across town to his home, stopping again to kiss in a shopping precinct.

When we got back, we collapsed through the front door and immediately the ‘just friends’ show was back on the road. Our companion was sat in the living room with a bottle of red wine and three glasses poured, ready for our return. Despite our incredibly inebriated state, we both had to play our roles. Our sivas escort acting skills were called to the fore.

Eventually Max retired to the bathroom, from where we soon heard the sounds of vomiting. The spare part – although of course he did not know that – and I giggled companionably together at the violent sounds emitting from the other end of the house and decided that perhaps now was a good time for us all to rest our heads for the night. The friend made his way upstairs to the spare bedroom and I started to pull out the sofa bed. Not an easy thing to do when sober – definitely not a wise thing to attempt when pissed as a fart.

As I struggled with the mechanics of my bed for the night, I fleetingly wondered whether anything would happen between Max and I tonight. I mean, I’d just heard him hurling – not the most attractive sound in the world – and there was the fact that we would have to be very quiet due to our friends’ presence upstairs. But before I knew it, I’d somehow managed to make the bed, my head was on my makeshift pillow (my rolled up coat) and the sweet temptation of sleep had lured me in.

Roughly I was aroused from my blissful state. I was lying on my back and could feel my shoulders being pinned to the bed. I opened my eyes at the same moment Max’s lips met mine. I parted my mouth so his tongue could enter. He explored my mouth slowly, as though we had never kissed before, and I felt his hand clutching my left breast before pinching my nipple. Hard. I gasped quietly, arched my back into his torso and gently lifted my knee.

He took the opportunity to reach down and play with my clit. Oh god – I could tell I was sıhhiye escort already slippery and ready. How did he do this to me? All of a sudden I felt his cock pushing inside me. He was fucking me! And we hadn’t even exchanged two words yet.

And so we started our drunken sex, fucking silently and clumsily as moonlight spilled across the sofa bed where I had not managed to close the curtains properly.

The thing about drunken sex is that it is often satisfying, always funny, but seldom reaches orgasm. And so was the case tonight.

We had been fucking for what seemed like hours when we finally collapsed on our backs exhausted, but not sated.

He was the one to break the silence.

‘Will you piss on me?’ he asked, and turned his face to mine.

‘Where?’ was my slightly shocked response.

With that he stood, walked to my side of the bed, held out his hand and led me to the tiny – and freezing – toilet.

There, sitting on the toilet in the glaring fluorescent light, I was struck by the absurdity of the situation. But he was crouching on the floor with his hand held between my legs, clearly thrilled by what I was about to do. And so I released my warm piss on his outstretched hand. I looked down to see him opening and closing his fingers in the path of my yellow urine and I saw his cock stiffen again.

After I had emptied my bladder he withdrew his hand, held his glistening fingers up the light and slowly licked them one by one. I was horrified and turned on by his actions.

‘This is a journey. And this is just the beginning,’ he said as he looked directly into my eyes.

We never did reach orgasm that night, but I did my best to remember those precious moments when, despite a slumbering friend invading the house, we spent our first night together. We were free. He was mine completely.

And in the morning we went back to being friends. I had lost him – until the next time, that is.

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