Dante’s was such a good club. Isn’t it funny that it always seems to be the really good places that close down? Well, it’s still there I suppose. It’s got a different name now and you wouldn’t recognise it at all. New owners, new decor, different music, different clubbers. Higher prices. But I’ll always remember it as the rock club where I met her that night. The night she showed me the time of my life. Lydia. Sex goddess. Rock chick.

I’d been living in Sheffield for two months, training with a multinational company that had a local office in the city. I was living in a bed & breakfast paid for by the company and had enjoyed exploring the city’s night life. A friend from work called John told me about a small rock club that had opened about a month ago out in an old mill on the outskirts of the city. It was supposed to have a real good mix of music. Metal, rock, indie and even some chart stuff thrown together in such a way that you just didn’t want to leave the dancefloor. Moshing one minute, bopping the next. And rock chicks have always turned me on. Yeah, your townies are all well and good; short skirts, high heels, skimpy tops, – you wouldn’t kick ’em out of bed, y’know? But rock and goth chicks. More mysterious. Black, dark purple and red clothing, lace, leather, PVC, fishnets, boots, buckles, piercings, tattoos, eyeliner – attitude. Not just blonde sheep grazing their way across the dancefloor giggling inanely at anything and everything and blowing bloody whistles in time to a machine’s ‘drumbeat’. What can I say? Rock chicks do it for me.

John and I went to Dante’s that Saturday. We caught the bus and with my not knowing the area; by the time we got there I was pretty lost. It was worth it though – Dante’s lived up to its reputation – good prices, damn fine music. We’d been there for over two hours (it was past 11.00pm) and I only came off the dancefloor to buy drinks or dispose of the one’s I’d already drank. I was so caught up in the music that I’d almost forgotten about checking out the local talent. I’d noticed some really pretty and good looking girls (and the odd huffermoose) but they were all already with someone, together in a group or busy dancing. John was off chatting with somebody he knew at this point, so I was dancing on my own.

Then she appeared. There were about twenty or so people dancing so I didn’t see her coming (though I would later, but more on that in a while) she was just suddenly there as if she’d popped out of thin air. Which was kind of appropriate, as the track playing at the time was by Faith No More – From out of Nowhere (I kid you not). Arms held up above her, eyes demurely looking down then darting up to meet mine and sparkling in the coloured lights. Her hips swayed and gyrated as she danced in front of me, just within arms reach. Faith No More finished, seamlessly blending into another track, I can’t remember which one. All my attention was on the girl in front – no. Where’d she gone? Ah. This girl behind me. I span around to face her again, matching her movements. She was light on her feet, swaying and turning with ease and grace. As I turned and found her, her stern expression broke into a dazzling smile.

Something went off in my head like a firework and my heart did what felt like a triple backflip. I remember we danced our way through the track and then the DJ paused the music at the end of it to make a birthday announcement for someone. As the music stopped, so did she. She ran a hand through her short hair, all dark and spiky on top and looked up at me. I lent close to her and asked if she would like a drink. Eyes twinkling, she smiled again (boom!) and said yes. As the music started up again we weaved our way round and past people to the edge of the dancefloor and across to the bar, side by side.

There the music was a little more distant and you could make yourself heard without having to shout and wave your arms like a pillock. I asked what she wanted and after catching the attention of one of the bar staff by rustling the £10 note in my hand at him; ordered us two pints of cider. A girl who’ll drink from a pint glass always impresses me somehow. It just seems so unpretentious.

While waiting to be served I turned to look at her and found she’d been having a good look at me too. Thankfully, she didn’t seem to have decided she’d made a mistake of any kind and was looking at me with her bright eyes in a kind of laid back manner. She just seemed to be reserved, a kind of inner calm. That might sound like some kind of transcendental horse manure, but it’s the best way I can find to describe how she came across. I held out my hand and introduced myself. She smiled and said

“Lydia.” holding out her hand to mine. Taking her hand (her skin felt incredibly soft) I lifted it upwards, bending forwards to kiss it. I know what you’re probably thinking. You kissed her hand? What is this, a Jane Austin bodice ripper? Well, no. But it always seems to surprise a girl and if she doesn’t think you’re a knob and walk off on you there and then, she’s usually a little taken aback, flattered and interested. Lydia laughed and I smiled back at her. Taking our drinks, we took a seat in a booth in a far corner. Nice, dark little places where you could make out away from the crowds. However, we sat and talked, finding a little out about one another. Nothing too deep. The main thing was that she could hold a conversation, was witty, smart and happy to listen as well as talk. I checked her out as we chatted and drank.

Average height, cracking figure (I’d looked down her ample cleavage and watched her hips snake while we were dancing). Short, dark hair (I’d later notice the tips of her spikes were dyed a dark red) and a pretty face. Several piercings in each ear, pierced eyebrow and lip and a Celtic knot nose stud. Dark make-up with lots of liner making her eyes really piercing. Black vest top. A pewter skull choker round her neck on a close fitting dark ribbon; almost like a collar. Long cobweb pattern black fingerless gloves that came to her upper arms, with lots of silver bangles and a red and black sweatband. Rings on all fingers. I couldn’t see her legs under the table but remembered she was wearing a ragged lacy skirt that ended in tatters midway down her thighs, red and black stripy tights and heavy treaded boots. Maybe New-Rocks. We were both about three quarters of the way through our drinks when Rage Against the Machine came on. Lydia grabbed my hand (adios touch taboo!) and looked at me excitedly.

“I love this track. C’mon!”

She downed what was left of her drink and stood up, pulling at my wrist. I knocked back my own drink and followed her onto the dancefloor, stifling a belch. The floor was busy, folk moshing away, heads nodding and hands held together behind backs. We danced on through Bullet in the Head and then jumped around to House of Pain (Lydia’s’ boobs bounced about in the vest top very pleasingly) then danced to Good Charlotte, Rob Zombie and Limp Bizkit. Lydia was attracting some attention and I became uneasy she’d find someone else more interesting than me – my dreams of getting her on her own later ending up in pieces like the plastic pint glass I was treading on at the time. At one point a guy came over to her and throwing me a quick look; whispered (okay, to be heard; I guess he yelled) something in her ear. I held my breath and was overjoyed when Lydia wrinkled up her nose at the guy. She swayed away from him and in front of me, lacing her hands around the back of my neck and then turning, rubbing her shoulders and bum against me. The guy shot me a quick look (if looks could kill, I’d have been hamburger) and moved off through the crowd. I put my hand on Lydia’s stomach and guided her against me, a real hard on building in my pants.

Lydia turned to face me and lifted her chin up to speak. I turned my head to one side and leaned in close, slipping my hands onto her hips. Touch taboo hopefully now totally out of the window.

“I hope you don’t mind. That guy’s always pestering me. I’m not interested in him.”

I leaned back so we could see each other’s faces and smiled at her before moving my mouth close to her ear and telling her that I didn’t mind at all. I squeezed her waist for emphasis and moved back a little so we could carry on dancing. Lydia smiled and began to dance again. The mix of music was great in Dante’s and we stayed on the dancefloor for the next thirty minutes solid. By then, hot and a little dehydrated I was ready for another drink (yes, I know alcohol just dehydrates you even more, but an ice cold pint is always good). Lydia looked a little done in too (perspiration glinted in her cleavage) and as I was thinking about asking if she would like another drink she put a hand on my chest, asking me the very same thing. On the way to the bar I saw John and motioned to Lydia that I’d be just a minute. She nodded and headed off. John was chatting with two women and a bloke he knew from work and grinned at me as I came over. He’d seen me with Lydia. After wishing me luck we agreed to each make our own way back that night (hello taxi service) and shaking his hand, I went off to find Lydia.

Anticipations high now, I fretted briefly that Lydia my have done a runner or be getting off with someone else in the minute or so since I left her (I know, I know, but when you’re that close to something so good you worry about it a lot, huh?). I was glad to see her tucking change into a pouch around her waist that I hadn’t noticed before and picking up a pint glass in each hand. I hurried over to her and when I got there; asked what a girl like her was doing on her own in a place like this. Turning, she handed me my drink and replied humorously

“Waiting for a guy like you!”

We clinked glasses (slopping cider onto the floor) and went to see if there were any seats free among the booths. There weren’t, so we stood around the area drinking and talking (as best we could), waiting for a space to free up. Less than half a pint later we were sat down again. This was my fifth pint of the night, so I was pleasantly relaxed and would be heading towards tipsy with whatever drink I had next. Lydia seemed to be about the same and we talked freely, shoulder to shoulder, arms and thighs touching. Her body heat was really turning me on and I was waiting for the right time to make a move.

Lydia surprised me by saving me the effort. Telling me it was great to find someone so easy to talk to who didn’t try and jump on top of her (yikes, close!) she asked if I’d like to go and get something to eat and then go back to hers? She took a long swig of cider, draining her glass before setting it down on the table and then looking deep into my eyes.

“I’ve got a settee you can sleep on.”

Uh-huh! Soon, we were outside. It was July and the night was quite close, despite a light breeze that made Lydia’s nipples poke at the black cotton of her vest top as we walked. I didn’t know this area at all. Lydia told me there was a takeaway ten minutes walk from here and a short taxi ride would take us back to hers. It was in a part of Sheffield I’d never heard of, close to some big park, apparently. Fair enough, then.

As Lydia said, we found the takeaway within minutes. It was a Chinese, so we ordered mixed noodles and prawn crackers. It was almost one o’clock in the morning and the place was getting ready to shut, so we got the prawn crackers thrown in for free (never look a gift horse in the mouth, eh?) being the last customers of the night. The fresh air was making me feel a little giddy and I wondered if Lydia felt the same. We were lucky to flag down a taxi, saving us a short walk to their offices a couple of streets away and were soon in the back seat, supper steaming in a white plastic carrier bag to my right, Lydia sat to my left. The driver was Asian and I guess he either didn’t speak very good English or he just didn’t want to talk, as he said nothing to us other than ‘ok’ when Lydia gave him our destination.

I looked down at Lydia’s cleavage, breasts swelling and contracting as she breathed in and out and then up to her eyes, which were looking into mine. Oops. Caught out ogling her tits! Lydia gave me another of those kaboom smiles. Her eyes seemed a bit more heavily lidded than before. I hoped she wasn’t ready to fall asleep yet. Far from it, it turned out. Bringing her lips so close to my left ear that they tickled it when she spoke (my cock began to stand to attention) she whispered

“I’m not wearing any knickers. I just thought you should know.”

Hello! My heart beat a little quicker as what she’d said sank in. Lydia sat back with a small grin on her face, looking quite pleased with herself and obviously waiting to gauge my reaction. I decided to go for broke. Hell if tonight wasn’t going to bring what I hoped for, it would be better to find out sooner than later. I put my right hand on her knee, leaned close and as I kissed her, slipped my hand up her skirt and along her thigh. What I had thought were red & black stripy tights turned out to be hold-up stockings, as I found bare flesh at her upper thigh. Continuing upwards, my finger tips nudged hot, yielding flesh and Lydia stirred slightly in her seat. Yep. No knickers.

My cock was straining against my black jeans as our lips parted and my hand withdrew from her skirt. Lydia opened her eyes gave me that measured look; her smile somehow conveying relief, admiration and acknowledgement all at the same time. Her right hand found my left and we laced fingers and squeezed hands promisingly. I glanced up at the rear view mirror. The cabbie didn’t appear to be paying any attention. I guess couples snogging in the back of your ride is a part and parcel of a Friday or Saturday night for taxi drivers.

Then we were there. I paid the driver as Lydia got out with our food and then joined her on the pavement. As the taxi drove off, Lydia fumbled in the pouch for her keys. I looked up at her digs. A big old stone building, in a row of six of the same. Wrought iron fencing with leafy trees planted in the front yard. Across the road was a wrought iron fence with a row of trees and an expanse of grass beyond them. The park, I guessed. There was a panel to the right of the green painted door with six doorbells on it. The building looked like it made for pleasant accommodation. Lydia lightly trotted up the three broad stone steps to the front door. I was struck by how light she was on her feet in those boots. We were soon inside the hallway with the front door shut.

Lydia’s rooms were on the top floor. Bad ’cause you had to climb up two flights of stairs to get to them and good, as she pointed out, because there were only her rooms at the top, so nobody above her or next door. There were two flats below her, two on the floor below that and one underdwelling below those. We walked up the carpeted stairs. I could hear faint music coming form one flat we passed (probably the TV) but otherwise all was quiet. Reaching the top floor, Lydia undid two locks on her door and stepped into her flat, switching on a lamp by the door. I stepped in and closed the door behind me. Lydia moved to my right, turning on another lamp. Keeping the lights down low, I thought.

We were in a large room; in the far left corner was a bed with neatly folded black sheets and a coffee table and settee along the wall at its foot. Opposite (to my right along the wall we had just entered through) was a fridge freezer, cooker and worktop. In the opposite corner to the settee was a TV, video and DVD player on a storage unit. On the wall to my right, a window (no doubt overlooking the park) and to my left, a groaningly full bookcase and two doors leading off from the room, both shut. The whole room was decorated in quite dark colours with several framed posters and prints on the walls (Escher and Dali).

Lydia was rattling about in cupboards under the worktop, producing plates and forks. She looked up and offered me a seat on the settee (you guessed it; it was black – with dark purple velvety cushions). I sat and watched as Lydia dished out supper and walked over offering me a plate and cutlery. Thanking her, I took it. Lydia bustled about the room, turning on another lamp by her bed and lighting several large candles in ornate pewter holders. Then she picked up her own plate, sat down next to me and was about to tuck in when an idea seemed to strike her.

“Sorry. Fancy a drink?”

I did and soon, Lydia was seated next to me with two of what must have been least quadruple servings of JD with ice. We ate and chatted between mouthfuls. Lydia explained the two doors led to the bathroom and to what should really be the bedroom. She thought it was a bit too small though and preferred to use the living room/kitchen as a bed-sit, keeping her bedroom as a spare room/study for her laptop and other work gubbins. I complimented her on the flat (it was pleasant – everything was neat and tidy, smelt of incense and had the odd splash of green from a potted plant to brighten it up) I found out Lydia worked at Meadowhall, manager for a branch of an electrical goods chain. I was a little surprised and wondered how she looked dressed for work.

We finished our noodles and turned to our drinks. I swilled the JD round my gums a little, hopefully washing away the noodles in anticipation of kissing her again soon. And more, of course. We joked and laughed. I had my arm slung casually over the back of the settee. Lydia had just told me I was mad, laughing at a particularly bad joke. Wiping at her eyes (and smudging her makeup a little) she looked up. I looked at her. She looked at me. Then as it always does when things go just right – we came together and kissed.

After some gentle smooching I rested my hand on her thigh, resisted the urge to explore under her skirt and instead opted to cup and fondle her breasts. As our tongues met and moved together in unison, her hand began to rub at my crotch. I slipped mine inside her vest top, feeling the smooth texture of her bra and the soft cushions of flesh it encased. As we petted I felt her nipples begin to swell and harden under the material – and gently pinched and nudged them. Lydia sighed and planted a firm kiss smack on my lips. She moved back slightly and whispered

“Have you got any condoms?”

Pleased at her directness I smiled and whipped out my wallet. Swiftly undoing a zip I pulled out a flattened pack of three condoms with a small flourish and ‘Ta-dah!’ Lydia smiled and snatched the pack from my hand, standing as I stuck my wallet back into my jeans.

I saw her move away and looked up to see her reach the bed with quick steps. Lydia tossed the packet of condoms next to the alarm clock on her bedside table and turned to face me. I watched with some surprise as she flashed me another of those kaboom smiles and then hurriedly lifted up her vest top, moving it over her head and throwing it on the floor. Reaching behind her back; the black bra followed next. Lydia’s full breasts bounced free with nipples pointing and erect. She fumbled at her waist briefly and her skirt unwrapped from her hips and slid to the floor. I felt a thrill of excitement when I could see no fuzzy triangle of pubic hair below her pierced belly button. Shaved pussy, then! A new one for me. Bangles, sweatband and watch followed. Still wearing her long gloves, stripy stockings and boots, she sat on the bed and lay back. Grinning, she parted her legs, feet on tip toe (or as close as she could get in those boots) with knees swinging to and fro gently, brazenly flashing me her pussy. Looking at me challengingly, she simply said “Get naked.”

Without a word, I obliged. I was surprised by how fast things were moving but just decided to go with the flow, which looked to be taking me exactly where I had been hoping to go for the past couple of hours. My boots and socks came off first. I smiled up at Lydia, who now had her right thigh resting flat on the bed, left leg still pointing up towards the ceiling, swinging side to side like a red and black pendulum, counting down time to mutual pleasure. I had a good view of the delights awaiting me between Lydia’s thighs. Her pussy seemed completely devoid of any pubic hair, a narrow pink slit dividing the swell of her mound. I was kind of surprised not to see any piercing down there. My t-shirt and jeans were soon in a pile, leaving just my pants. My cock was hard and straining against my pants. Lydia looked me up and down and said approvingly

“M’mmm. Not bad.”

I got my cock out, pulling down my pants and tensing so that it sprang free, energetically.

I’m no John Holmes but past girlfriends have commented approvingly on my cock. Sarah, the girl I lost my virginity to; was a couple of years older than me and had lost her virginity several partners ago. As I penetrated her for the first time, relishing the surprising tightness and heat of her body, she had knitted her eyebrows together and breathed in sharply. Concerned, I’d asked if she was alright, to which she replied

“I’d be fine… if your cock wasn’t so big.”

That’s good for your self confidence when you’re starting out. Sarah had come to a gasping orgasm while I couldn’t reach one, my cock not having yet adjusted to the sensation of a woman’s body (it’s different from your own hand; no matter how good your imagination is you can’t improve on that feeling of slipping into a tight, wet pussy). Ironic that. When you first start getting laid, you can’t cum in a woman. It’s not that it doesn’t feel good, it just feels so different at first that your cock doesn’t seem to know what’s hit it and tells you ‘yeah, it feels good, but I don’t know if it’s as exciting as what I’m used to’. Just as you start to get the knack of what you’re doing (and used to the fact you’re actually doing it!) – hello; premature ejaculation!

Anyway, I digress. As I stood naked before her, Lydia stroked her left index finger up her pussy, smiling. That finger proceeded up her belly, stomach and between her boobs, fingernail rasping against skin and leaving a faint pink line where it passed. Its journey ended by it dipping into her mouth, where her dark lips sucked briefly at it, before it emerged into the air and beckoned me over. I approached, my heart pounding in my chest and pulse throbbing at my temple and in my cock. I sat on the end of the bed and rolled up and on to my side, lying to Lydia’s left between her and the wall. We kissed again and as our tongues circled noisily, Lydia’s soft hand slipped down to where it needed to be and encircled my cock. She squeezed experimentally and traced a fingernail up and down its sensitive underbelly, making me twitch in pleasure. She moved down to cup my balls and gently began to squeeze and knead them, more and more firmly. I had been running my fingers through her spiky hair and fondling her soft, large breasts. I stiffened a little, my excitement briefly replaced by concern at her grip on my balls as one of her rings pinched slightly at my skin.

Lydia noticed my tension and opened her hand, gently rubbing with the flat of her hand where she had previously taken hold. With a leisurely kiss, she opened her eyes to look into mine.

“Don’t worry. I won’t pop ’em. But they feel pretty full to me. Think they need emptying before we really get down to business?”

I told her I was sure that they did. Laughing lightly and looking into my eyes so she could enjoy my reaction, Lydia began to wank me, very slowly. I winced in pleasure and stirred on the smooth, satin sheets, closing my eyes and lying back. I heard the bed creak as Lydia sat up, her hand pausing for a moment. Then she was sat on my chest, facing away from me and pinning my arms with her legs. I looked up at her smooth bum and noticed the skull and crossbones tattoo on her lower back. Then both her hands took hold of me and worked up and down slowly five times, followed by five rapid strokes. I gasped and writhed as this was repeated. Five very slow, five quickly. And repeated. And repeated.

“You like that, huh?” Lydia chuckled. “You’ll be begging to cum soon.”

She wasn’t wrong. After less than a minute of this exquisite torture I was gasping and writhing, unable to move my arms and instead thrusting and jerking my groin and legs. I wanted her to speed up, to slow down, to be inside her body instead, to cum, to last longer; all at the same time. I was flooded with pleasure and couldn’t think straight at all. Her soft hands contrasted with the feel of the hard metal of her rings against my skin. The low tingle of my orgasm began to build after another minute or so, cutting through the turmoil in my mind with a promise of certainty. God, this was going to be huge. I tried to arch my back and found I couldn’t move much because of her weight on my chest. The tingle grew. Lost in the moment I writhed and moaned, begging her not to stop. Which was exactly what Lydia did!

Just as I felt that I was about to explode, her hands stopped dead. My muscles locked and I thought I was going to cum anyway, but the tingle began to fade, not quite blossoming into the fire of ecstasy. As I dumped my head back onto the pillows and gasped, disappointed, Lydia hopped off the bed, her boots thumping on the floor. My balls felt as though they were about to burst; a dull ache growing deep inside them. Lydia shot over to the fridge and opened it. I looked up to see her momentarily bathed in the light from the fridge’s interior, her erect pink nipples almost silhouetted in profile. She grabbed something from inside it before quickly slamming the door shut and standing, reaching the bed again with quick, long strides, her breasts jiggling wildly. The question I was about to ask faded from my mind. Lydia had a wicked grin on her face and can of Diet Coke in her hand.

Pulling open the can (‘plink-fssshhhh’) with one black painted fingernail, she briefly held it against her left breast, pushing it there and gasping aloud at the feel of cold metal against her skin, before smiling down at me.

“You’ll never have felt anything like this.”

With that, she rasped her tongue over the underbelly of my cock, lapping at its head. Then her tongue was gone. Lydia quickly took a swig from the can, plonked it onto the floor and lent forwards, taking hold of my cock. Suddenly I was inside her mouth, cold fizzy coke bubbling against my cock as her tongue tickled it and her cheeks hollowed as she sucked and swilled. It was only later I’d think ‘how the hell did she do that?’ Go down on me with a mouthful of coke without spilling any of it? To this day, I don’t know. But Lydia did manage it and she was right; I had never felt anything like this before. With her head rocking back and forth and her hand squeezing my balls and shaft, I was soon moaning and gasping again. After a short while, the coke had become warm and lost most of its fizz. Lydia swallowed and slipped my cock out of her mouth. Her hand continued to work my shaft, smearing the leaking precum over the bulbous head of my cock with her thumb to oil her grip, while she reached down to the can and took another mouthful.

The cold liquid. Bubbles exploding and fizzing against my cock, her hot tongue circling around and flicking at it. The teeth grazing gently, catching and dragging. Her squeezing, rubbing hand, caressing my shaft and balls, coaxing and kneading. The liquid, sloshing sounds and enthusiastic noises from deep in Lydia’s throat. It all became too much. I started to pant as the tingle returned. I silently prayed she wouldn’t stop again and forced my eyes to open so I could watch myself cum in her mouth. But with a slurp, Lydia stopped giving me a blow job. I watched her swallow the coke as her hand immediately went into overdrive instead, pulling and pushing down on my cock so it pointed away from me and towards her, working back and forth quickly and firmly. No, this time she wasn’t going to stop. Oh, thank you Lydia, thank you-

I cried out as my hips jerked up off the bed and a jet of cum shot from the tip of my cock, splattering onto Lydia’s chest, just below her collarbone. Her hand stopped moving, its grip relaxing so the cum could fire its way out where she wanted it to go. Her eyes were closed, mouth open and panting in lust. The next gout flew and landed lower, on her left breast, sliding down its curvature like rain off a waterproofed coat. Another hit her breast again. A third and fourth hit her stomach, sliding down towards her crotch. A final pearly blob landed on her forearm, standing out against the cobweb pattern gloves. I’d snarled in primal pleasure as this huge orgasm had taken me and now laid back on the bed, momentarily overcome, the dull ache in my balls fading. As my orgasm passed, her hand slowly moved again, milking the cum from me. When enough had splurged onto her fingers to start to run off them and onto the sheets, she lifted her hands to her stomach, where cum was dribbling down her in viscous streams. Lydia smeared my cum up to her breasts and started massaging it into her skin with circular motion.

“God, cum’s so hot when it hits your skin.” she moaned, squeezing her breasts together into an impressive cleavage. Lydia was obviously enjoying herself, and moved slowly and sensuously, her hands running from her neck down to her belly, pausing to squeeze her breasts (I noticed they were too large for her small hands to fully cup) and pinch and pull her nipples. Her skin shone and glistened in the light from the lamps. Finally wiping her hands down her ribs, to her hips and onto her thighs she paused to thoughtfully remove the rings from her fingers. Each ring was carefully placed in a pile just under the bed, and as each finger and thumb was stripped, Lydia licked at each one, tasting me on her. With all ten rings finally removed, she looked down at me.

“Thought I was gonna be washed off the bed there for a moment.”

I puffed out something in response, still a little breathless from having cum what felt like bucketfuls and then watching Lydia’s little display. Lydia laughed lightly as she noticed my cum on her glove and the traces of it smeared into the fabric at her wrists. She took them off too, letting them both fall to the floor alongside her rings. Lydia breathed in deeply through her nose, running her hands up to her breasts again and exhaling with a drawn out “H’aaaahhh” before pushing her shoulders back and stretching her arms out behind her. Then she lay down on top of me with her knees between mine, legs bent back and feet pointing towards the ceiling. Her breasts and stomach felt sticky against my skin.

Smiling at me, she breathed in deeply the pollen aroma now coming from her skin, closing her eyes to exhale and then looking into mine again. My hands found the swell of her bum and taking a soft buttock in each hand I squeezed and smiled back. I rubbed her bum, squeezing and circling her buttocks and tracing my fingers over her tattoo before lifting my hands to her shoulders and gently raking my nails down her back. Lydia closed her eyes and shivered a little, pressing against me. Cushioned against my chest, her breasts swelled out under the pressure impressively. I moved one hand up to the back of her head and pulled her face down to mine, kissing her moist lips. With my right hand I tickled and scratched at her bum, running along the crease of her buttocks where they met the tops of her thighs. Probing gently between her legs, the flesh there felt hot and damp. Kissing her hungrily I did my best to arouse Lydia without steaming straight for her pussy or boobs. I lightly ran my fingernails down the sides of her neck and the insides of her arms. Teased her ribs and the backs of her thighs, all the time keeping her pressed tightly against me, either holding the back of her head or pulling her bum to me.

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After I felt I’d teased the back of Lydia’s body enough, I wrapped an arm around her shoulders, clasped her bum to me and rolled over to my right. Lydia surprised me by emitting a high pitched, girly squeak. Then I was on top of her. As she giggled I kissed her forehead and temple, planting a kiss on the end of her cute nose and then kissing her neck and shoulder. The giggling stopped as I licked around her nipples, tweaking them with my teeth. Her nipples were very round and small; given the size of her bust. There was a slightly bitter taste which I did my best to ignore. Shuffling backwards I kissed and licked my way down to her pierced belly button, sticking my tongue into it briefly. Lydia’s stomach twitched as I worked lower, her skin becoming increasingly sensitive. Kneeling upright, I lifted up her right foot and undid the fastenings to remove the heavy boot. As the second one clumped to the floor I told her it was her turn to get naked. Reaching forward to her thighs, I tugged her stockings down one at a time and threw them over the edge of the bed, tracing my fingers over the impressions left in the soft flesh where the hold ups had gripped them. Bar her black ribbon and pewter choker; Lydia was now naked too.

I lay down at the edge of the bed to her right, and we kissed again. The dark purple, almost black lipstick was now more than a little smudged (reminds me of Brodie Dahl from ‘The Distillers’ when I think about it now). Lydia’s hands played with the back of my head and shoulders, and then one stole down my chest, walking down on index and second finger. Those fingers rasped briefly in my pubic hair and then wrapped around my cock, which had hardly begun to stiffen again. With a couple of squeezes it had hardened a little more, but I bemoaned aloud the fact I wasn’t hard enough to do anything more yet (I started to worry that my body would let me down at this late stage!). In response, Lydia propped herself up on one elbow, breasts resting heavily on my arm and started kissing and sucking my left nipple, pushing my cock down towards the foot of the bed and tugging the foreskin to and fro. This girl knew what she was doing, for as I relaxed and my chest became wet with her saliva I felt my cock stiffen in Lydia’s grip, my heart pounding blood down to it. After a few more seconds Lydia admonished

“Don’t tell me that’s not hard enough.”

My cock sprang back erect as she released it. Reaching over she picked up the packet of condoms and opened the flap. My heart pounded even harder. This was it. I was going to find out what it was like to be inside her! Lydia took out a foil wrapped package and the folded sheet of instructions and whispered

“I like reading these, they turn me on.”

With that she lay back, placed the condom on her belly and unfolded the sheet of paper, studying it intently! I waited for a few seconds but Lydia still pretended to be engrossed. I couldn’t quite believe it. What an unbelievable tease! I took the packet from her belly and tore open the foil, squeezing out the condom between my finger and thumb. Dropping the empty packet I positioned the transparent pink cap over the head of my throbbing cock, paused to check I had the damn thing the right way up and then rolled it down my shaft. Thankfully it went on easily. Snapping it into position and squeezing the teat at the end I was ready to go. There was no way I was going to let what she had created go to waste. Lydia was still ‘reading’ the instructions. I placed my right fingertips onto her bare mound and lightly doodled them around in small circles and figures of eight to get her attention. She still studied the piece of paper. I stopped moving my fingers and looked at her, smiling patiently.

“Aw. That felt nice.” She said petulantly.

Her eyes didn’t leave the sheet of paper as she turned it over to look at the other side. I decided to play her game for a little while longer and then to get her attention. I ran my index finger over her mound for another thirty seconds or so. She was incredibly smooth, with no stubble down there at all. I didn’t know if she waxed or shaved, but Lydia was smooth as a snooker ball, even around the folds of her labia. I watched her breasts rise and fall as she lay back, ‘reading’ and made small circles at the top of her pussy, watching the pink flesh crease and stretch. Leaning forwards I planted a kiss on her pussy, just brushing its lips with my own. Then I traced down her labia with my fingers, pressing slightly to open up that tight ravine. Her pussy lips parted a little and my fingers ran down a wet, pink trench. When I reached the bottom I tickled the sensitive skin between her pussy and anus and then ran two fingers side by side back up its length – with a moist noise, her lips parted. Moisture shone in the low light. Lydia was really wet; despite her current aloofness there was now no hiding the fact she felt turned on!

Hearing Lydia sigh, I located the nub of her clitoris and teased the skin around that area, carefully avoiding actually making contact with it. Two could play at being a tease! Moving back down I nudged my first and second fingers against her lips, finding her entrance and feeling the wetness drooling from it. Circling around quickly to open her up just a little more I pushed my forefingers into her soft, hot embrace. They squelched as they circled rapidly in her ribbed tunnel, first in one direction, then in another. I pushed forwards and turned my wrist, curling my fingers so they ran over the bump of her g-spot (whatever you want to call that bump inside a woman, and I haven’t been able to quite locate it in every one I’ve had sex with, I’ve found if you touch it, you get one hell of a reaction!), the tip of my second finger was just able to circle over it repeatedly. Lydia’s hips jerked and she dropped the instructions, eyes closed in pleasure, hips pushing forwards against me. I slipped my fingers from her body and waited for her reaction. Her eyes snapped open looking straight into mine

“Fuck me!”

I was eager to oblige and rolling on top of her, settled between her thighs. My cock was just where it needed to be and with no need for any awkward lining up I rammed it deep into her, gasping as I felt her body surround me. All pretence of play was now gone. There was only the lust and sex.

I broke into a fast, hard pace, glad to fulfill my aspirations to experience Lydia’s body. Her slick pussy felt to grasp me at all times, the sensation was constant and strong. (Under other circumstances I think I would have cum in her really quickly.) Lydia’s breasts jiggled up and down hard, bouncing back and forth as her body was rocked by my thrusts. Lydia groaned and lifted up her knees, grabbing one in each hand and pulling them as far up towards her as she could. I adjusted my balance for this new position and as I slapped even deeper into her, Lydia lost her grip on one knee, quickly snatching back at it and pulling it up even further. Eyes closed, her head sank back into the pillow as she moaned “Harder! Fuck me harder!!”

I thrust into her as hard as I could, now more aware of fighting against bouncing back up from the mattress in order to be able to push hard back into her again than of the feel of her pussy around my cock. It felt a little like trying to fuck on a trampoline and I briefly considered suggesting we move to the floor before deciding that there was no way I wanted something that felt this good to stop, even for something that might feel better.

Instead I lowered my weight so my belly clapped against hers with each thrust, pinning her to the bed with my weight. Her legs crossed behind my back, pulling me into her with her heels. Braced better now, I could fuck her harder. My cock felt so hard I thought the skin might split and as I pumped in and out her pussy squitted and squelched, drenched now with her juices. Making a hungry noise, her lipstick smudged lips clamped on mine and we french-kissed, breathing hard through our noses. While kissing I could feel more sensation as her pussy tightly gripped my length. I was thrusting in balls deep and withdrawing almost entirely so I could ram my full length into her each time. The bed creaked repeatedly. Each thrust almost carried the sensation of first penetration and I enjoyed the confidence of being able to fuck her without worrying about cumming too soon. My balls were all but drained by Lydia’s earlier attentions.

Lydia broke her lips away from mine and they pulled back in a snarl from her gritted teeth as legs lowered, eyebrows drawn together and fingernails digging into my buttocks, her hands pulled me against her crotch. I continued to thrust, my range of motion now limited. Lydia winced, panted through her nose three times and then hissed urgently through her teeth

“Yes!”

Hands clutched at me as Lydia forcefully pulled me into her. I thrust as deeply as I could, penetrating with my full length as Lydia’s orgasm seized her. Her hips trembled and she hissed again, more quietly

“Yes. Yyeesss.”

Her whole body tensed; trembling and shaking for a few seconds more. Her thighs didn’t clamp together and I was surprised at how quietly Lydia came. As her muscles relaxed, Lydia’s eyebrows unknitted and her lips came forward into an ‘o’ as she puffed out a long breath. I stayed inside her and kissed her pouting lips, looking at her dark eyelids and long lashes. Those wonderful eyes stayed shut as Lydia wriggled under me one way and then another. Her head moved slowly as if drawing a small circle with her chin, before shaking side to side twice as if to clear it. She opened her eyes to look at me and breathed

“Don’t pull out. Fuck me again. I love to fuck.”

To emphasis her words, she slowly started to gyrate her hips. Her pussy made smacking sounds as it moved around my cock. I matched Lydia’s slow pace, circling my hips in the opposite direction to hers and enjoying the slow, luxurious feeling of being engulfed by her. We moved together in this slow dance for what seemed like a long time, accompanied by the creak of the bed, ‘m’mmms’ from Lydia and the fleshy noises of our union. I still felt really hard and thought at this rate I’d be good to go for most of the night. Hell, this girl was so hot it would be a crime not to shag her senseless!

Initial lust at least partially quenched, our next fuck was a slightly more civilised affair. I withdrew my cock entirely from her body. Lydia moaned unhappily and then again in pleasure as I slipped back into her. I did this three times, (I love that feeling of penetration, you feel like you’ve become a part of someone else’s body. -that you’re joined together. And watching as a gaping pussy swallows you whole, lips contracting as you slide inside. What a turn on!) Lydia planted her feet on the bed, so she could push firmly back against my thrusts. Remaining inside her now, we found our rhythm once more. The pace was more leisurely, less breakneck at about a thrust per second. We’d been at it for a couple of minutes when Lydia whispered

“Bite me.”

I made a dumb sounding questioning noise.

“Bite me. It turns me on.”

Now this was something new. I’d never had a girl want me to bite her before. I’d no problem with it but wondered how hard and far to go? I decided to err on the side of caution and gently nipped her shoulder. Lydia murmured happily and said

“Harder.”

Fuck me harder, bite me harder – Lydia seemed to like things to the max! I obliged and spent the next minute experimenting until I was biting her as hard as she wanted. Which was very! I’d catch a roll of skin and flesh between my teeth and then suck hard at it, suck even harder and bite down hard at the same time. I managed to not draw blood but could see angry red marks and bruising where I had worked.

All this turned Lydia on, all right. She moaned and panted, wincing in pleasure (pain? both?!) and muttering

“Oh, fuck! Yeah!” And “Do me, baby, do me.” over and over.

Her pussy was still lubricating nicely and I slid in and out of her easily as I bit and sucked. Lydia’s next orgasm hit her shortly after as I lifted myself up, arms straightening to work my muscles loose a little. I licked at her nipple as I rose and she groaned urgently. Encouraged, I gently bit at her breast. Lydia spluttered and her nails raked down my back almost painfully. I returned to her breast, licking and nipping as her breathing became quicker and quicker. Resisting the urge to break into a fast, hard pace again I moved in and out of her slowly and deliberately, so Lydia could feel every inch of me filling her up and pulling back, massaging the walls of her pussy and rubbing against her swollen labia. Her nails raked down my back each time I rocked into her, making it feel sore. Lydia suddenly sucked in a deep breath, her face looked to wrinkle in pain and she paused at the edge of ecstasy making an inarticulate

“Hnnnnghh!” sound which turned into a noise I can only capture as “Grrooarghhh!”

She dug her nails into my shoulders and her pussy fluttered around my cock, hips shaking again as she came.

We would screw again and again that night. My erection would die down every once in a while, so we’d rest and cuddle, then Lydia would get me hard again; going down on me, rubbing my cock between her hands like she was trying to make a sausage shape out of a lump of plasticine; and at one point lying at the end of the bed, facing me with her knees in the air and masturbating herself to orgasm to turn me on. She would smile (boom) and purr

“You’ve kept it up!”

admiringly before we would fall on each other and rut again. What a girl! I finally came as Lydia was on top, riding me slowly and deliberately, head tilted back and breasts thudding up and down. When she realised I was about to cum she flicked her head back (in a motion that made me think she was used to having longer hair at some point) smiled that kaboom smile and maintained her steady rhythm.

“Come on, baby. Cum for me. Cum for me.”

I came clutching at her thighs and bum, crying out her name. We never shared a mutual orgasm that night but I can’t count on one hand the number of orgasms we had between us.

The sun was coming up as we finally exhausted our passions, had a token clean up in the bathroom and settled down to sleep. I was not cast out to the far reaches of the settee and we slept under the black satin sheets (smeared in places where my cum had dried or I’d wiped Lydia’s juices off my fingers) arms wrapped around each other with her head on my shoulder. Lydia was supposed to work that Sunday, but said she’d phone in sick before the shop opened. Fulfilled and with a sore back from Lydia’s clawing in her heights of passion (a friend at the gym would point at my back three days later in the changing rooms and loudly ask “Bloody hell, have you been shagging Catwoman?”) I drifted off to sleep.

I woke as Lydia’s alarm went off at 9.30 in the morning and she stumbled out of bed to phone in ‘sick’. Warm sunlight was filtering in through the curtains and I could hear birds twittering and singing in the park across the road. After determining that I didn’t have a monster hangover, I waited until Lydia had dialed the work number and then snuck out of bed and up behind her. She explained to her staff that she wouldn’t be in today with my fingers slipping into her pussy and pinching at her nipples! Perhaps her faltering breathing made her seem more convincing? Either way, we put my morning glory to good use as (after a mad scramble to get a condom and put it on!) I took Lydia doggy style on the floor of her kitchenette.

We shared a shower after that and soaped each other down. This (of course!) led to more sex. (If the ‘Five Metre Condom Dash were an Olympic sport, I’d have a damn good chance at Gold!)This time I took her standing up and from behind. Lydia clasped the edge of the sink basin as I thrust hard in and out of her, my groin slapping against her buttocks. Turned on from the hot water, steam, running our hands over each other’s slippery bodies and watching ourselves in the large mirror (it looked a little bit like a dream sequence in a movie, y’know?– all soft focus fluffiness around the edges of the ‘screen’) we both came, almost together. Lydia gripped the taps so hard she twisted on the hot water tap as she came, pushing her bum out at me and shouting something incoherent. All that turned me on so much that I shot my load only seconds later as she’d recovered just enough to turn the tap off.

Minutes later I was sat on the settee with a dry bath towel wrapped around my waist while Lydia put the kettle on. She was naked under a short, black satin dressing gown that clung to her curves and shimmered in the sunlight as her breasts jiggled when she walked. I had another boner and really wanted to fuck her again (hey, we hadn’t explored the ‘spare’ room yet!) but we were out of condoms. Over a pot of tea with buttered toast we chatted for half an hour and I suddenly realised what it was that looked so different about her this morning.

The red colour in her hair had gone, washed away in the shower. Her short dark brown hair wasn’t all teased up into spikes now and lay forward and flat. Her heavy makeup was removed, although her eyes (they were hazel) still sparkled wickedly. I guess they were like that all the time. Looking into her eyes it suddenly struck me that her eyebrow and lip piercings were gone. Lydia laughed and explained head office didn’t like her to have dyed hair and too many piercings, so she used clip-ons for her eyebrow and lip and only applied one-wash colour to her hair when she went for a night out. Work guidelines would allow her nose piercing (she had several discreet, studs to choose from) and she only had three rings through each ear, no bars or other bits of shrapnel.

I admitted to Lydia I’d been curious about how she looked dressed for work. Asking if I’d like to see (which I did) she smiled and walked over to the ‘spare’ room, pausing at the door to slip out of her dressing gown and shake her boobs at me with a laugh. She then went in and the door closed behind her. There was something I was curious about and unable to resist; I got up and quickly checked her black bra from the night before. On a wash-faded label I discovered Lydia was a 36D. I know, I know; sad. But it seemed too obvious to ask’ Oh and by then way, just how big are those titties I’ve been fondling and sucking on all night?’

I marveled at how lucky I thought myself to be – Lydia was a girl of contrasts. Although I guess I should say woman. She was twenty-two and had a great blend of maturity and playfulness. Her confidence was obvious and although she had what some might see as rough edges (drinking from a pint, tucking into a takeaway before swearing like a trooper during sex) I just found that this made her all the more attractive. She was smart, well spoken and pleasant mannered. I hadn’t heard her swear or curse other than when we’d been fucking in the early hours of this morning and she otherwise talked softly and intelligently.

And if fucking seems like a hard word to use, well that’s what it was. It wasn’t ‘making love’ I think that’s something else more tender and caring; It wasn’t just ‘sex’ it was far too lusting and wild for that, with biting, scratching, swearing and the hard and fast way we took each other. No we fucked each other’s brains out, that’s how I see it. So knowing that Lydia could be, well it sounds lame; but nice (she was happy for me to stay the night, snuggled up to me so tightly, had made me tea and breakfast in the morning and talked brightly and pleasantly) and could also be forward, demanding and sexually aggressive when the mood took her just made her more and more fascinating to me.

The door opened again a few minutes later and I started as somebody else walked in from the spare room. No, hang on. It was Lydia. She’d brushed her hair, applied conservative amounts of eyeliner and blusher and was wearing glasses. This gave more colour and almost a different shape to her face. A complete change from the contrast between pale skin and dark makeup from the night before. She had a fine chain necklace on underneath a white blouse, with only the top button undone and no cleavage on display. A Light grey matching knee length skirt and jacket, barely black tights (they didn’t look shiny enough to be stockings) and low heeled court shoes. I must have been gaping because Lydia laughed as she walked over and sat alongside me, saying

“Kinda different, huh?”

I doubted if even one of her work colleagues would have recognised her at Dante’s last night. She tapped the golden metal frame of her glasses.

“These seem to make the most difference to folk. I only wear them to work for squinting at the monitors on the tills and the stock control displays.”

I chuckled and agreed that it was quite a transformation. Lydia told me she only looked “so much of a townie” for work, preferring to dress more like last night the rest of the time, but not quite as extreme.

“I like to save the clip on piercings, wild tights and boots for nights out.” she laughed.

I smiled, looking down at her sexy legs (dark mesh, whether it’s tights or stockings, has always turned me on) and glancing up to her chest. Sat to Lydia’s left, I could see inside her blouse, between the buttons, where her ample chest was restrained by a white, lacy, bra. I betted many a customer and staff member had caught the same view, and wondered what those breasts would be like naked and to the touch. Fortunately, I gloated to myself, I knew first hand. Although I did wonder what it would be like rub them with baby oil, squeeze them together and slip my cock between them.

Realising I was ogling her again and looking up; I saw Lydia was looking down at the towel I wore, which was rising where my cock was stiffening again.

“Hell, have you got it up again?” she asked.

I shrugged and ‘apologised’ with a grin. Lydia’s eyes sparkled behind her glasses.

“I guess we need to go shopping then. There’s a corner shop down the road. I’ll be five minutes.” She pointed at the bulge under the towel.

“Make sure that doesn’t go anywhere!”

Grabbing her keys and her money pouch from the night before, she winked at me and dashed out of the flat, letting the door close to behind her.

Five minutes later, she was back. I’d taken the dirty sheets off the bed and was now lying on it naked, with my carefully nursed erection still present and correct. Lydia had a carrier bag in one hand that obviously had more than just a packet of condoms in it. Those she produced form her jacket pocket, tossing them in an arc over to me. I caught the packet in my right hand as Lydia looked at my cock, actually licked her lips and said

“Get one of those on!”

I opened the packet and removed a foil wrapper as Lydia set down the carrier bag and stooped to remove something from it – a squeezy bottle of chocolate sauce and a loop of that plastic coated washing line, pinched together at the middle by a ring of cardboard. Taking off her glasses and putting them on the worktop, she undid the buttons on her blouse and tossing her head back a little, pulled it apart, revealing her lacy bra and magnificent cleavage. Kicking off her shoes she picked up her shopping and advanced towards the bed, head down and with a wicked grin. Like I said back at the start. Attitude. A bit of mystery. Rock chicks do it for me.