I Wanna Do Bad Things With You

I heard his key open the communal door and I could wait no longer.

Flying down the stairs, clad in an Ann Summers Pilot Fancy Dress Costume, I met him on the first landing and the force of our coming together hurled him into the wall with a thud as his backpack hit the brickwork.

Our lips met and I was aware of my neighbour checking the peephole to investigate the noise. I didn’t care that I was wearing unsuitable underwear and behaving in a manner that was not fitting for my age. I just wanted his arms around me and his mouth on mine.

Taking him by the hand, I almost dragged him into my flat, where he kicked the door shut behind us and took in my outfit with a smile.

White hold-ups (not part of the set) and a very short blue dress with white low cut collar to reveal lots of cleavage. The frock itself has two rows of very official looking gold buttons (actually press studs which rip open very easily – but more on that later) and lots of gold trim. The outfit was completed by white ‘Cock Pit’ pants and a Captain’s cap.

From the look on his face, I knew that he certainly wasn’t taking in how well-made the outfit was, only how well it emphasised my curves and that it wouldn’t be long before only the hold-ups remained in situ.

Six weeks of imagining and wanting. There was no doubt that the only thought on either of our minds was ‘I wanna do bad things with you’

He laughed as I twirled in front of him, bending over to display the words emblazoned in gold upon my pert derriere. ‘Cock Pit, eh?’ he growled. ‘More like cock pocket!’

And with that, he led me into the bedroom and bent me over the chest of drawers in front of the mirror. Lifting the skirt and sliding aside the panties, he probed the area with two inquisitive fingers.

It had been six weeks and several anticipatory waiting hours. My body did not let me down and it took only moments for him to release the caged beast imprisoned in his trousers and take possession of his property.

Watching the physical picture of our union in the mirror, my eyes met via the glass. Locked and held, transmitting the longing and lust of so many lost weeks.

We cared not for the aural sensibilities of the neighbours below and next door; our climax was a loud, hoarse celebration of a love that lasts despite the distance between us and the troubled tribulations of acceptance by our friends and families.

He smiled at my dishevelled reflection, put his arms around my waist and pulled me up against him, before closing his eyes and inhaling the smell of my hair.

It was just the start of a whole weekend of renewing our acquaintance. Sights, sounds, sensations and smells – all those things that make up the memories which keep us going through the long absences.

There are going to be a lot of bad things done this weekend but I bet the hold-ups stay on until the bitter end…