Sai Fong Speaks:
Waiting nearly 4 weeks to see Harry nearly had me climbing the walls. After the nights we’d spent in London, and the frustrating week that darling Harry spent back home, I was ready to just do a disappearing act, turn-up on his doorstep and scream “You want it, Big Boy, here it is, come get it!”
Common sense prevailed, and though dad, poor, dear deluded dad, had given in on the Art School thing, he wasn’t prepared to let me go just yet, poor dear, and insisted that I spend this last summer at home with him. I had to go with it, insisting on heading down early was not a good idea, he knew I didn’t have to sort out digs or transport, so insisting on moving down so far ahead of time would have started his copper-sense twitching, the very last thing I wanted to happen.
So I stayed on in Cosford, wanking furiously every chance I got, having increasingly fevered dreams about Harry, his body, making love to me, and pacing around my room crying for him, not that he’ll ever find out, will he? I said, WILL HE? Good, you’re learning.
When Harry came to get me, I was in a right old state. I could barely contain myself, and all those barbs I’d thrown at him about the ‘sticky-knicker brigade’ came back to haunt me as I found myself oozing almost constantly, excitement galloping around inside me, knowing that in a few hours I was going to be crawling all over his lovely bod all over again, but for a whole week!
Trying to appear nonchalant when that lovely boy rolled up was the hardest acting job of my life, no sense in falling at the last hurdle, not when dad was sniffing around. I had a selection of my clothes and stuff already packed, the theory being that if I brought it down in stages, I wouldn’t have to get dad to bring it all down at once, actually letting him into the flat, seeing the living arrangements weren’t exactly the conventional brother/sister setup. Harry looked sideways at me and my, to my mind, barely adequate, amount of luggage, and made comments about most of my stuff, of course, including asking me how many feet I had when he had to find a place in his car for 5 shoe bags, but eventually I was packed and ready for the off.
I dutifully kissed dad goodbye, watched him slip Harry some money for me when he thought I wasn’t looking, good, and yanked my knickers off while dad and Harry were doing that whole, “Well son, harrumph, see you soon, etc,” thing that fathers do to avoid kissing their grown-up sons.
As soon as we pulled away, I felt a weight off my chest. I had him back! OK, it was only for a week, but half a loaf is better than no bread at all, and dad was at least being reasonable about this whole week away, so definitely a win. I felt a definite need to celebrate, soon, and decided to give Harry a little of what he’d obviously been missing, if the looks he’d been giving me behind dad’s back were anything to go by! As I had no panties on, I gave him a flash of the old fuzzy door, nearly making the poor boy crash as he jumped and fixed his eyes firmly on the road, although I did notice a nice lump straining at his zipper; good boy!
They do say that letting the dog see the rabbit makes the chase more interesting, so I kept hiking my skirt up, just to see what it would take for him to tell me to stop, or find a turn-off, locate a quiet lane somewhere, and just give me a good seeing-to. Dirty little beast never said a word, just kept flicking glances at it and sweating! I only stopped when I realised I was giving all the passing trucks an eyeful, and the word was getting around, judging by the line of suspiciously fast trucks and lorries in the near-side lane, racing to get an eyeful!
When we arrived back at the flat, which luckily isn’t too far off the West Way, I let poor, lovely Harry talk me out of helping him lug it all up three flights of stairs. Sweet boy, he’s such a gentleman, he’d never consider letting me carry a wet handkerchief, let alone the negligible amount of stuff I had, so I let him do it. This is one of the reasons he needs me; any other girl would take endless advantage of his nature because they’d twig he’s a natural gentleman, whereas I take advantage of him because he’s mine and I’m allowed to, so I save-up and treasure the times when I can – a privilege I don’t intend to abuse.
If any other girl tried on him what I do, I would go Hong-Kong Phooey on her arse for taking advantage of my baby. There are two kinds of wrath, God’s and mine. Better to take the wrath of God; at least he forgives. Anyone screws with my boy and I will seriously visit them with mayhem and pain a-plenty.
Once we were unloaded, with Harry lying there on the lounge carpet pretending to gasp and wheeze, face deliberately red and sweaty, hoping for some sympathy, I enticed him into the bedroom by posing bare-arse naked and smiling invitingly, all the fatigue magically evaporated as he levitated upright and went to work on me, just as I had hoped he would.
Harry is a gentle and considerate lover, manly and gorgeous, and I’d been seriously missing what he had so much of, so we’ll gloss over the next bit, you know what comes next. Suffice it to say, I saw God that day! Now comes the hard part; I have to go home again in 6 days, and I’m already feeling separation anxiety; this is my home now, with my man, not half-way across the country, and I don’t know how I’m supposed to manage even the few weeks ’til I’m back down for good. Harry says I have to bite my lip and tough it out, it’s hard on him as well, it’s been hard on him all along, but he didn’t explode, he didn’t keel over with a coronary, so I’m in no danger of anything except possibly giving us away. Sobering thought.
+++
Harry:
On the Monday I came back from college expecting to find Sai deep in contemplation of one of her art books, with plans to take her out somewhere romantic for dinner, but she was dressed in a killer sparkly black minidress, teetering heels and glossy sheer stockings. She was an eye-opener, no doubt about that, and while I was drinking her all in, I was wondering what this was in aid of.
“Harry, we’re young, we’re in London, we’re going clubbing. Get dressed, I want to show you off a little!”
So saying, she pointed out what she wanted me to wear, already picked out and pressed, and I acquiesced, going with the flow, because the alternative was too painful, and too loud, to contemplate.
Sai wanted to go to Boujis, a hot, mega-exclusive club in central Mayfair.
“Uh, Sai, that’s a member’s only, 21 and over club, you can’t get in, and bruisingly expensive — you’d better have a trust fund, because they’ll want to count it before they’ll let us in.” I reminded her
Sai just grinned. “Harry, I know everyone, and so do you, you just don’t use them enough! I made a call, we’re on the list, and we’re being comp’d as well, courtesy of your old school friends who actually run the place. Honestly, Harry, don’t you ever keep-up with anyone?”
The club was small, exclusive, and hyper-expensive. Sai was in her element, spotting some girls she’d attended the Feather’s Ball with the previous year, as well as celebs and a sprinkling of the rich and shameless, and spent a great deal of time popping shots, exchanging phone numbers with old acquaintances and dancing around me while I tried to figure out what she was doing. A few guys tried to pick her up, but the bouncers headed them off before I had to, and the girls they were with laid into them anyway, so we got to grin at the free floorshows.
Sai Fong obviously wanted to boogie, so I resigned myself to a night of watching her, although, in that dress, she was definitely worth the watch! Several other guys also thought so, and she usually got whistles and applause when she stepped off the dance floor, although she made a point of flopping in my lap and kissing me soundly every so often, just so no-one got any ideas, and probably because she was half-cut…
We left at 3 am, found a kebab place and topped up on anonymous gristle and MSG before driving back to the flat. I’d been up 20 hours now, and I had to be back at uni for 11 am, so I was looking forward to some rest and sleep; Sai Fong had other ideas, stripping off for me to tiny little panties, those sexy sheer stockings and stiletto heels. All thoughts of sleep disappeared as my libido went kerchinngg! Naturally, I moved in for the kill, thinking “Yup, that’ll do nicely!”
Sai wasn’t drunk, just nicely lit-up, and she made a production of posing for me in her ‘come and fuck me’ get-up, so I grabbed her, kissing and fondling her, nibbling her nipples and squeezing and jiggling her bum-cheeks, kissing passionately as she fumbled with my belt-buckle, helping me strip off to my shorts without breaking lip-lock. She kissed me thoroughly, rubbing her panty-clad mons against my cock, her breathing becoming fast and shallow as she worked herself up, frotting herself while still kissing and fondling me.
At last she stepped back, smiling, and knelt down, taking hold of the sides of my shorts and sliding them down freeing my tortured cock, allowing it to spring into view, harder than it had ever been before. I have said before, I don’t have a mega-dick, but I like to think I’m not exactly under-endowed, either, and all 7 inches were there, on full stretch, for Sai to do with as she pleased. She chose to slide her lips over the end, licking over the tip and behind the head, exquisite sensation as she sucked at the same time, making me gasp in pleasure as the pressure dropped, making my head swell even further, squeezing and pumping her hand slowly in time to her sucking. Much as I enjoyed this, I wanted her to stop; I wanted to pleasure her, hold her tight to me as I entered her, not stand and pump into her mouth.