looked at him appraisingly. ‘You don’t have any condoms.’
Johnathan felt sheepish. ‘No.’
‘Don’t worry,’ said Kibby breezily. ‘I’ve got stacks. Never travel without them. Be prepared is my motto.’ Kibby saluted and sipped her coffee. ‘Now, there’s an easy way and a hard way of doing this,’ she continued in a matter-of-fact way. ‘Either I wait for you to make a pass at me, in which case we’ll probably be here until well into Sunday afternoon, or you let me make a bit of the running. Does that sound all right to you?’
Johnathan shrugged helplessly. ‘Er, yes, fine.’
‘Right.’ Kibby placed her cup carefully down on the table in front of her. She moved Johnathan’s cup to the far side of the table. ‘Don’t want to knock the coffee over in the excitement, do we?’ she said.
‘Suppose not,’ said Johnathan, who had begun to sweat slightly.
‘Right,’ said Kibby again. She moved purposefully towards Johnathan, and took his hand in hers. She looked into his eyes for several seconds. ‘You look like a startled rabbit caught in someone’s headlights,’ she declared.
‘Oh, thanks very much.’
Kibby moved gently towards Johnathan. She smelled of lavender. She kissed him lightly on the mouth. Their lips scarcely brushed.
Kibby drew back for a moment and looked at him thoughtfully. ‘Very good,’ she said. ‘It’s nice to meet a man who knows how to kiss properly.’ Johnathan looked down modestly. ‘Of course, he needs to know how to kiss improperly, too,’ she added, before moving towards Johnathan again, this time with more propulsion. Her arms went around the back of his neck.
Johnathan was expecting another gentle almost-kiss, and was startled when Kibby unceremoniously stuck her tongue down his throat. He took a moment to recover and then retaliated by sticking his own tongue down hers. There wasn’t enough passing space, and their tongues began to shuttle feverishly from one mouth to the other. Kibby’s tongue gradually began to overpower Johnathan’s and soon established a clear territorial advantage. She started to work towards his tonsils. Johnathan, breathing rapidly through his nose, began to knead Kibby’s shoulders while surreptitiously checking out her bra strap.
With a small moan Kibby pulled away from him. Her face broke into a wide grin.
‘Isn’t this fun?’ she said, turning to the table to retrieve her coffee.
Johnathan nodded, his arm flapping helplessly towards his own cup, out of reach. Kibby turned back towards him, straddling him. She placed her hands on his chest.
‘Sure you wouldn’t rather have a game of whist?’
‘Quite sure,’ gasped Johnathan.
‘Good.’ Kibby put her arms around the back of Johnathan’s neck and lowered herself on to his groin. She felt the bulge of his erection through four layers of material, and wriggled a bit. ‘Mmm, feels nice,’ she murmured softly, her mouth inches away from his, before running her tongue around Johnathan’s lips. As she did so, she gyrated her hips, causing Johnathan to wonder briefly whether the sensation he was feeling in his nether regions was intense pleasure or intense pain.
Kibby resolved the problem by sitting back. It was pain. Johnathan stifled a yelp. What happens when an irresistible force meets an almost immovable object? The almost immovable object gets squashed. And then it deflates.
Kibby had now begun to lick her own lips. She began to unbutton her shirt, staring all the time into Johnathan’s eyes. Johnathan stared back, hypnotized, too frightened to think about the damage she had just inflicted on his rapidly shrinking genitals. When she had undone the last button, Kibby pulled the front of her shirt open and shrugged it off her shoulders and on to the floor. Johnathan apologetically broke off from looking at her face to have a closer look at her chest.
Kibby was wearing a black satin bra, which had small lace details along the top of each cup. She thrust her chest towards him eagerly.
‘I rather think that needs to come off, don’t you?’ she panted.
Johnathan gulped, and nodded mutely. Bras incorporate a particular release mechanism which can only be operated by the owners of at least two X chromosomes. Men just cannot do it. But they are always made to try.
Staring at the small nubs of her erect nipples through the black fabric, Johnathan took a deep breath and reached behind Kibby and ran his hands over the bare skin of her back. His hands descended on the bra hook. He felt tentatively along the line of the strap. It was particularly unfair that he wasn’t even allowed to see what he was supposed to be doing. He wrestled with the clasp, which refused to yield to his clumsy touch. After a few moments of silent struggle, his tongue sticking half out of his mouth in concentration, he looked up at Kibby. She smiled down at him and pushed her breasts towards his face in encouragement. The sight of so much flesh spurred Johnathan on. He began fiddling like a man possessed. Kibby yawned. Eventually she said, ‘Would you like me to do it?’
Johnathan nodded. Three seconds later the bra was on the floor. Kibby had effortlessly unhooked it with one deft swoop of a single hand. Johnathan didn’t mind. Kibby had beautiful breasts, and they were now swaying gently in front of him, about six inches from his face. His erection was staging something of a recovery.
Johnathan reached up, gently cupped one of Kibby’s breasts in each hand, and squeezed. Kibby let out a small sigh. She ran her hands through Johnathan’s hair, and when they were clasped firmly around his head she pulled him fiercely towards her right nipple, urging it into his mouth.
Startled, Johnathan began to flick the end of his tongue over Kibby’s nipple, but as she continued to pull his head closer he took it wholly into his mouth and began to suck it, stopping occasionally to take quick gasps of air. Kibby sighed again, more deeply this time.
Eventually she pulled back. Her face was flushed.
‘Time for bed,’ she said.
Some time later, Kibby said, ‘Well.’
‘Sorry,’ said Johnathan.
‘Don’t be,’ said Kibby. ‘It was nice. Have you got an ashtray?’
‘Somewhere. Hang on.’ Johnathan rolled off the bed. He pulled on his dressing gown which was lying by the door and went to the kitchen. There he took a plate from the drying rack and brought it back to the bedroom. He presented it to Kibby.
‘Thanks,’ said Kibby, who had retrieved her cigarettes from her handbag and was now puffing away contentedly. ‘I always enjoy my post-shag fag more than any other,’ she said. ‘It’s an integral part of the whole process. Of bonking.’
‘It probably takes longer, too, if that performance is anything to go by,’ said Johnathan gloomily.
Kibby eyed him critically. ‘Are you one of these men who worry about their sexual performance so much that unless he can keep it up for an hour and a half and the woman has nineteen multiple orgasms he considers himself a failure?’
‘Yes,’ said Johnathan.
‘Oh God,’ said Kibby.
‘Sorry,’ said Johnathan again.
Kibby rolled over to face him. ‘Look, there is nothing to apologize about, really. It was fine. It was nice. It was cuddly. Please don’t start torturing yourself about it. I enjoyed it.’
‘Cuddly’? thought Johnathan, appalled. Since when was sex supposed to be cuddly? Weren’t words like ‘magnificent’ in the more traditional lexicon of sexual epithets? Or at least ‘passionate’? But ‘cuddly’. Johnathan felt as if he had been compared in bedroom prowess and technique to Humpty Dumpty.
It had been nice. It had also been very quick, and rather humiliating. They had repaired to Johnathan’s bedroom, and undressed as quickly as they could. Kibby had straddled