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    I stared down at him. His hands were still behind his head, propping him up, his mouth in a lazy grin. I revealed my breasts inch by inch, watching him all the while, wanting to see his reaction as soon as it appeared. He didn’t shift his sights down, but stared into my eyes instead.
    “Look at them,” I demanded, the words vitalising me, giving me the self-belief I needed so badly. I was Chantal, sexy French lover, all-knowing and sultry.
    He lowered his gaze, widening his eyes slightly before going back to normal. He swallowed, Adam’s apple peeking above his shirt collar then hiding again. I let my corset go, and my breasts jutted out, nipples hard, straining, my need for him evident just from those peaks. I shrugged the corset off much as I had the raincoat earlier, shivering with delicious desire as the fabric skidded down my arms and back to fall behind me, a soft, thrill-inducing wedge against the top of my arse. With my top half completely exposed, I felt glorious, free and as far from my old self as I could get.
    His cock hardened beneath my gusset-covered cunt, and I inhaled slowly to relish what that felt like. Sublime and orgasm-inducing. I was wet, my folds slick, and if I slid my hands inside now my fingers would come away soaked.
    “Take my knickers off,” I said, covering my breasts with my palms and kneading, amazed at my brazenness. I tweaked my nipples between fingers and thumbs, pulling, drawing them outwards, stretching them until I almost whimpered with the pain. “Rip them off!”
    He took his hands from behind his head then reached out, hooking his fingers into the thin side straps of my knickers. His skin was warm on mine, so close we could have been fused together. He shook slightly, whether from desire or my demanding I wasn’t sure, and if he didn’t rip them off soon I’d bloody rip them off for him. I didn’t want to wait—couldn’t—and the quicker he made contact with my clit the better. He tugged, but not hard enough, the back band digging into my arse as a result, the cutting pinch strangely sexy.
    “Harder,” I said. “You must do it harder.”
    As if the word harder had been heard by his cock, it grew, steely and rigid now, and God, I wanted to ride it, to press my clit onto it and have an orgasm that made my knees tremble. He yanked, only succeeding in jerking me forwards, and I put my hands out to brace myself on the pillow either side of his head. My hair tumbled down, closing out the rest of the bedroom so that it was only him and me inside that darkened tunnel. I could just about make out his face, shadowed as it was, the slight opening of his mouth that revealed a partial view of his teeth. Teeth I wanted on my nipples, nuzzling, or grazing over my shoulder blade, scraping the skin, me not knowing whether he was about to bite down hard. I lowered my head and kissed him—hard, frantic, and with such longing I surprised myself—his fingers still hooked, his skin still burning into mine. He yanked, the material ripped, and the back of my knickers sprang free, letting a cool kiss of air swoosh over my arse cheeks.
    I sat up abruptly, looking down to watch the front flap fall down, exposing my cunt and my obvious, wet need.
    “I think you want to lick me, no?”
    I shifted up his body without waiting for his answer, positioning my lower half closer to his face. He pushed himself more upright, at the correct height that he could just dip his head and lick that lovely tongue of his from one end of my slit to the other. I shuddered in anticipation of what it would feel like, his hot breath coating my inner thighs, his words, if he spoke, buzzing into my flesh.
    He didn’t answer with words. Instead, he brought his hands up to hold my backside, one globe in each hand, pulling me closer still, then slid his tongue into my slit, into my cunt hole. I sucked in a huge breath at the intrusion, one I hadn’t felt in years and hadn’t expected to feel again. His tongue was