Mamma Mía

We’re reaching far into the memory bank for this one; back to the days of my first boyfriend, Mark. After a long day on the beach, being subjected to lying nearly-naked next to each other in public for hours, followed by a long hot shower together, we were both driven nearly crazy with desire for each other. Leading me up the stairs to his bedroom, he closed the door and turned to face me. One hand went to the back of my head, caressing my dripping hair; the other to my chin, turning my face upwards towards his. Slowly, he leaned in to take my awaiting bottom lip between his teeth, before sliding his tongue into my mouth. He tasted divine. Patience was forgotten and I began to kiss back, furiously drawing him further into my mouth and running my hands through his still-damp hair.

His hands slid slowly down my back to my buttocks, which he squeezed tantalisingly before lifting me into his arms. My legs encircled his body as I began to roll my torso against his. Walking towards the bed, he laid me down before settling between my thighs and dropping his mouth to my neck, my ear, my collarbone... Down and down he went, laying kisses and nibbles in his wake, until he reached his destination, his tongue and teeth teasing and pleasing in equal measures. As I came, I said his name over and over, turning my face to the ceiling as my eyelids slid closed in ecstasy.

Apparently today was all about my pleasure, because as his head made its slow journey back up towards my own, he slid his fingers and then his penis easily into me. I let out a long, low groan of pleasure as he began to roll his hips towards and away from my body, each time causing my entire being to shiver with sheer anticipation. He took my left leg into the crook of his elbow and pushed it towards my body, allowing him to push deeper and deeper into me, picking up speed as our pleasure heightened. As his pace continued to increase, he pushed harder and harder into me and I thought I would explode.

At that moment, the bedroom door swung open to reveal his mother, innocently intending to put away his clean laundry. Caught in the moment between pleasure and panic, as if rudely awoken from an erotic dream, I struggled to regain composure as I said his name, trying to make him stop, as his back was turned to his mother and he hadn’t noticed her presence; but this only spurred him on, mistaking my protestations for lust-filled cries. “Mark, Mark!” I insisted, and with a huge groan – to my absolute mortification – he came, as his mother looked on in horrified shock.

Needless to say, my relationship with his mother was never the same after that day; the incident was never mentioned, but eye-contact was strictly avoided, and I knew my innocent ‘girl-next-door’ image had vanished forever... in her eyes anyway.

love... V