Taboo

Keywords: Come..., 11, Things, All, Ch.,

My cock twitched in her hand and I felt her lips curve into a smile as they drifted over my nipple and her tongue slipped round it, sending a dart of fire from my chest to my groin. I stroked her golden hair as she neared my cock and drew my breath in sharply when her soft breath wafted over the head,followed by the delicate caress of her lips over the head of the glans. She was twisted over my body and I ran my fingers down the ridge of her spine to the top of her ass crease and she rolled her buttocks towards me as she swallowed me smoothly, sliding her lips down my shaft and letting the head rub against the top of her mouth.
They drove back south at a leisurely pace, revelling in the continued fine weather, and admiring the views of hills and lochs. On the shores of Loch Lomond, they stopped for a stroll, and a light lunch. After lunch, they drove on, almost in silence, both dreading their imminent parting. At about three thirty, George pulled up outside Kathy's flat. He took the two large cases, and Kathy the small one. She unlocked her door and he followed her in, closing the door behind him. She turned, wrapped her arms around his neck, and leaned in to kiss him warmly on his lips.

"Thank you, Georgie. Thanks for a lovely weekend. I wish I could ask you to stay, but I really need to work. I'm sorry. You do understand?"

"Yes, of course! And thank you for coming. It was great!"

"Cumming? I lost count of how many times I came," she giggled against his cheek. "You're pretty good for an old man!"

"I'm not that old," he protested, "just a bit mature! Like a good wine!"

"Don't leave it so long next time, Georgie. Call me soon. Please!"

"I promise. What about next week-end? We could have dinner, go to the theatre, or the cinema. I'll check what's on."

"No, I'm sorry, my love. I'm in Cologne all weekend at a trade fair. I'm off on Thursday evening, and not back until late next Monday. Will you call me when I get back?"

"OK. I'll call you Tuesday week. Be good until then!"

"I'll try," she smiled, "and you! Think of me in bed!"

"You bet," he exclaimed, pressing her body against his, and running a finger along the crease of her buttocks.

"No, Georgie, stop it! You're making it worse! You must go! Please, Georgie!"

"OK," he whispered, "if I must! Good-bye, and thanks for a great weekend - the best ever! And love to Tigger when you get him back!"

He kissed her again and reluctantly turned to go back to his car. She waved sadly from her window as he drove away.

George drove home to Melkirk, singing happily to himself. He checked the post, his answer-phone and his e-mails – nothing of any great interest! The house seemed empty without Jason, but he would collect him to-morrow. He spent a quiet evening, listening to CDs on his Bang & Olufsen, had a light supper, a couple of large glasses of Glen Morangie, and went to bed early. He did not masturbate that night, and fell quickly into a contented slumber.

*Chapter 12: Monday*

The alarm sprang into life at 6.55. George stretched, listened to the depressing morning news, and planned his day.

He dressed, walked to collect a morning paper from the town, and sat down to read it over breakfast. He then went to his study, and sent off an e-mail:

"Dearest Susanna"

"Welcome back. Hope you had a great holiday. Look forward to hearing about Mexico."

"Please don't forget our date to-night – 9pm your time – 2am mine!"

"I'll be waiting for you!"

"Missed you!"

"Much love"

"Figaro"

He perused his address book, and dialled a number.

"Trongate Flowers! How may I help?"

Trongate Flowers was a florists, situated about one hundred yards from Kathy's office. George had used them before, and had found them efficient and reliable. He ordered a bouquet to be delivered to Kathy; nothing too flamboyant, he insisted – predominantly blue and white, no reds – maximum cost forty pounds. He gave details of his name and credit card number.

"Will there be a message?"

"Yes, please. Just write, 'To Kathy - Thanks again – enjoy Cologne – be good – Love G.' Got that?"

"Yes, sir. All is clear. I'll just read it back to you."

George checked, and corrected, her spelling of 'Kathy' and 'Cologne'.

"One other very important thing. I need them to be delivered this afternoon between 2.15 and 2.30. Can you guarantee that?"

"Yes, sir, no problem."

"And I need them handed to Miss Lisa Craig. Make sure they ask for her when the flowers are delivered. Don't leave them at reception, and don't ask for Mrs. Green! Miss Craig will be expecting them. Miss Craig is Mrs. Green's P.A."

"OK, sir, I understand."

George rang off, looked up another number and re-dialled.

"Good morning! Lisa Craig speaking!" came a cheery voice.

"Hi Lisa, George Marlowe here. You sound very cheerful for a Monday morning!"

"George! Nice to hear from you!"

"Is the boss in yet?"

"Yeah! She looks great, and in a very good mood. Seems like you two had a great weekend!"

"Hell! Do you know all her secrets?"

"Of course; that's my job!" she laughed. "Do you want me to put you through?"

"No, it's you I want! Look, I need a favour. I know Kathy has a big meeting at two this afternoon. I ordered some flowers to be delivered. They will arrive between 2.15 and 2.30, and the messenger will ask for you. Can you make sure they go straight to Kathy, in the middle of the meeting?"

Lisa thought for a while. "Yes, OK. I suppose so. She may not be too pleased, though!"

"Trust me, Lisa. It will be OK," he replied, crossing his fingers.

"Right you are then! If she bawls me out, I'll let you know!"

"Thanks, Lisa. I knew I could rely on you. 'Bye!"

Downstairs, he could hear Mrs. McIntyre busying herself, grumbling about the weight of the vacuum cleaner, and the number of dogs' hairs on the carpets. He decided it was time to collect Jason from kennels.

Jason seemed vaguely pleased to see him, but a bit sorry to leave the company at kennels. As compensation, George took him for his favourite long walk, along the river; a couple of swims in the River Tweed would help get rid of the smell of kennel disinfectant.

Returning shortly after one o'clock, George was pleased to discover that Mrs. McIntyre had left. He made himself a sandwich and spent the afternoon pottering in the garden. Shortly before five o'clock, as he was preparing an early dinner, the telephone rang.

"Georgie! Thanks for the flowers!" Kathy called down the telephone. "But you're very naughty getting them delivered to the office – I've been teased all afternoon."

He laughed.

"Actually," she said, in a serious voice, "it worked out very well. My meeting wasn't going as planned; several people seemed very tetchy for some reason. When Lisa came in with your enormous bouquet, they could see I was embarrassed, and it sort of broke the ice. It all went much better after that, and I got my own way – well 95% of it!"

"Glad to be of service; let me know next time you want a surprise package," he laughed.

Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Georgie! Talking about surprise packages, I've been wearing my 'Butterfly' all afternoon. It's great. I switched it off during my meeting, but I had a little tingle before, and a bigger one afterwards. It's really fun!"

"Do you have it switched on now?" he asked.

"Yes," she murmured.

"At what setting?"

"Medium. The high setting is just a bit too much for the office!"

"And what does it feel like?" he pressed her.

"Great. All tingly. Little vibrations shoot through me. I'm getting very damp. I like to imagine it's your tongue down there, doing its business," she whispered hoarsely.

"Stop, Kathy. You are a slut. I've got to play Bridge to-night. How am I going to concentrate with that image in my mind?"

"I don't care," she replied, "as long as you've got me in your mind. Ooohhh, it does feel good! Thanks again, Georgie. Call me soon. Ciao!"

"Goodbye my slut, my love. I'll call you next week. Promise."

*Chapter 13: A Breakdown*

At 6.20, as George was trying to decide which cashmere sweater to wear that evening, the telephone rang again.

"George, hello, this is Sylvie. I'm sorry, George, but I have a problem."

"Yes? Tell me about it."

"I'm supposed to be collecting you in ten minutes, but I have a puncture. I've tried to change the wheel, but the nut things are so tight I can't move them. There's not time now to send for a garage. Do you think you could pick me up instead?"

"Yes, of course. No problem. And when we get back I'll see if I can shift them and change the wheel for you."

"Oh, would you, George? That would be wonderful. I need to get to Edinburgh in the morning, and I wasn't sure how I was going to manage," she exclaimed, relief showing in her voice.

"OK; I'll pick you up in ten minutes. 'Bye Sylvie."

George selected a light cream V-neck intarsia cashmere sweater, to go with his camel flannel trousers and brown shirt, and draped it round his shoulders. He got Jason in from the garden, locked up the house and drove the few hundred yards to Sylvie's house. The evening sun was still warm; George adjusted the climate control in his BMW.

As he rounded the top of the drive, he saw a sad-looking black Audi A3 Sport, parked outside the large double garage, with a completely flat tyre on the rear left-hand wheel. He sounded his horn, and pulled to a halt at the foot of the steps. Sylvie appeared at the door, waved, turned to lock up, and then came down the steps towards him, smiling. He admired her immaculately cut beige linen trouser suit, with a long pink silk scarf knotted around her neck.

"Thank you so much, George," she said, offering her cheeks to be kissed. "I didn't know what else to do but call you."

"It's honestly not a problem," he replied, opening the passenger door, and savouring her heady perfume. "I really like your suit, by the way. It looks stunning."

"Why, thank you George. It's one of my favourites, but it creases so easily.

Keywords: Come..., 11, Things, All, Ch.,