Some men come quickly, D, however, came quicker than most, just eight minutes after arriving, flattered I’m sure.
Aged about 25, upon arrival he asked if we could go directly to the boudoir, no unnecessary introductions. Myself, I like to get to know a little about the person I'm about to get intimate with, though nothing too personal or compromising, but hey ho, if that’s what D wants then he shall have it.

We undressed and lay on the bed, as I stroked his body he requested that I not touch his cock straight away, as it was very sensitive, I obliged. Rubbing my hands across his tummy and up to his chest, I gently tweaked his nipples between my fingertips, whilst he reached down to take hold of my hard cock. As I did this my arm brushed ever so softly against his stiff erection.
‘Oh no, I’m going to come, God I’m going to come,’ he moaned. I let go of his nipples and took a firm grip on his cock, as it spurted its load. ‘Sorry about that Frances, like I said, I come quickly,’ ‘Not at all, I shall take it as a compliment,’ I replied. And with that, he dressed and left.
R, a slight and well-dressed man, entered the Office with an overnight bag and proceeded to empty it. Champagne, chocolates (for me), girl's blouse, skirt and stockings (for him), all newly bought. ‘Do you mind if I change,’ ‘Of course not, why don’t you go into the bedroom and come back when you’re ready,' I said; I poured two glasses of fizz.
He entered the room en femme; ‘Frances, can we dance together,’ I put on something smooth and gentle, Stan Getz playing a luxurious saxophone. We spent the next ten minutes slow dancing about the room, whilst holding each other.
R asked if we could retire to the boudoir where, as requested, there was some heavy petting as I pretended to seduce him, or rather her, acting out a lesbian role-play. R played the shy, innocent young virgin, and I the older, wiser, horny seductress; I’ve had plenty of practice.
We moved over to the bed where he/she laid down and took a hold of her erection, which by now had popped out over the top of her pink knickers. Barely six strokes and R’s game was over.
‘I think I’ll leave these clothes with you if you don’t mind Frances, perhaps you can add them to your dressing-up box.' ‘Thank you, I’ll give them a wash and do that,’ I replied. When all was quiet I took a shower, laid out on the sofa and treated myself to the remaining half bottle of fizz and just a few chocolates.
What I'm reading in bed…
The Well Tempered Garden: Christopher Lloyd.

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