I was talking to Ruf about our first weekend together all those years ago. Funny the things that people remember… and the parts that they forget or which just merge into each other with the frequency of similar events blurred with the passage of time.
He can remember being shocked at the way my marriage had disintegrated. He liked me, thought I was sexy. Had a fabulous arse and good tits, even if I was a little thin. He wanted to give me some affection. Show me the loving that I needed. Although not on a permanent basis.
He remembers the first time he touched me, between my legs through my jeans as I looked at a picture on the wall. Certainly the effect that it had on a woman desperate for sex after so long would be quite unforgettable.
He certainly recalls when I liberated his cock, told him it was beautiful and then sucked it (not very well is how it seems in my memory – in comparison to my current enthusiastic performance). I don’t think many other women had voiced their appreciation of his penis in such a way. It is an affirmation which I continue to voice on a regular basis.
Things become more familiar when I prompt him, but that makes me feel like Paul McKenna trying to wrest the tiniest minutiae of evidential detail from a witness to a staged robbery through the power of suggestion.
In his defence, he says that there have been so many visits, so many amazing fucks and experiences, that sometimes he cannot remember isolated incidents in the general fabulousness of it all.
Nice recovery!
So, on the fifth anniversary of the first time we got naked together, I give you Basil Brush and Petula Clarke remembering it well. (I wanted Kermit and Miss Piggy but YouTube let me down!)
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