… CONTINUED
Lynda turned away and started emptying the circles ready to start again.
“We’ve plenty of time for one more game,” she said. “Could you make yourself useful with those two empty glasses on that table?”
But I was paying little attention. She was on the hearthrug, on all fours.
“I’m getting a lovely view from here,” I said. She made no reply, so I crept up behind her and kissed her right on the sn*tch. That got a response.
“Oooohh, you know what that does to me!”
I certainly did. Next, I plunged my tongue in deep and kept it pushing and circulating. Small sighs and groans from the other end indicated that I was having the desired effect. Gradually, they got louder and after a couple of minutes she broke away, turned round, held me tight and gave me the kind of kiss they weren’t allowed to show in mainstream cinemas until at least 2003.
Then she stopped. “Come on, refill those drinks then we can get dressed and start the game again.” I was just about to throw her on the sofa and roger her senseless but never mind.
“I’m not sure I should have another drink, I’ve got to drive home later.”
“Who says you’re going home later?” While Lynda got dressed, I fixed us a drink each, and was soon fully clothed myself. We made a start on the next game. Just like the last one, I threw a five to start, but Lynda got a six this time so was off first. A run of correct answers saw her with two cheeses in her collection, and me barefoot. Then she got a question on the 1937 Coronation, and forgot it was George not Edward, so I was in. A lucky guess took me to an Arts & Literature question, where I demonstrated that my knowledge of Dickens was better than hers, and she realised that she’d forgotten to put her shoes back on, so was now as barefoot as me.
Five minutes later, both our shirts were off, and her jeans and mine both hung on the next question. Which was the densest wood?
“Lignum vitae – everybody knows that!” She said triumphantly. Then she turned the card over. “Australian buloke? Never heard of it!” She threw her jeans down on the rug in disgust.
“You realise we’ve been doing this wrong? If you get a cheese question right, you can put something back on. But we’ve only been doing that in the centre.”
“You’re right, I’d forgotten about that too. Oh well, leave it as it is now. Putting clothes on is boring anyway.”
I’m glad she thought that, because two questions later, she lost her bra. I moved to sit next to her, and nuzzled her nipples with my nose. This made her laugh, and her breasts jiggled in a most enchanting way as she did so. Which so distracted me that I got my very next question, a stupidly easy one, totally wrong and ended up in just my boxers.
I was still right next to Lynda, and held my cold glass against her left nipple, which soon became erect, as did mine when she gave me the same treatment. She giggled at this and those gorgeous little breasts started shimmering again. I took the right one and crammed as much of it as I possibly could into my mouth, chewing the nipple as if it were a condemned man’s last meal.
“Oh, fuck …” she murmured, reaching out for my hardening dick. I gently took her hands and placed them in her lap.
“Finish the game, dear.”
Lynda threw the dice, and a couple of questions later was up for another cheese. There she showed that her knowledge of capital cities had not improved in the last week. I reached across, gently slid off her panties and gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead.
“I win. Again.”
“No you don’t, we can’t end the game this early, we’ve only got three cheeses each.”
“Oh, I see, is this another change in the rules? OK, let’s carry on.” I rolled the dice, got a question wrong immediately, and handed it back. I moved behind her to read the question with her. My arms were round her and my hands doing all sorts of interesting things, so I forget what the question was but she got it right and headed off towards the hub, as her next cheese was on the opposite side. While nibbling her ear, I stroked a nipple with one hand, and gently caressed her clit with the other. It was getting decidedly wet down there. What comes between the violin and the cello? I knew it was the viola; unfortunately, so did she. Her next throw dropped her straight onto the hub as neatly as an SAS paratrooper.
“Don’t forget, if you get this right, you can put something back on if you like, it still applies here.”
“I haven’t forgotten. A pink question please.” I pulled out the card and read it. “Who was the original host of the game show Call My Bluff on BBC2? I’m on safe ground there, nobody knows that.”
Lynda did.
“Do you want your knickers back?”
“No. I told you before, putting clothes on is boring. I want those.” She reached across and tried to pull my boxers down, but there was a large obstruction in the way and they weren’t moving. She held my rigid cock in one hand, and tugged at the offending garment with the other. It eventually gave in and she threw it aside, but the hand that was on my cock didn’t move. Well, it moved, but didn’t let go … if you see what I mean. A couple of minutes of this took me very near the point of no return. I took her hand, kissed her a couple of times and gazed into her eyes.
“So is the game finished now?”
“Of course not, we’ve still only got three each.”
“Sod it, we’ll finish it later.”
And this time I did throw her on the sofa and roger her senseless. I’m not sure if we ever finished that game. The rest of the evening is a bit of a blur.
TO BE CONTINUED …
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