He fucked me through my orgasm, forcing me to ride the wave longer before he came as well. I could feel spurt after spurt entering my body, but didn’t care. My birth control should take care of it. His moan was nearly as loud as mine, and I was glad that no one was in the bathroom at the moment, though I wouldn’t be surprised if someone heard it while passing the door. I stood there, bent over the toilet, my breathing heavy as he slid out of me. I didn’t move as I heard him grab some toilet paper, cleaning himself off before discarding it in the bowl below me. I then felt his hand on my thigh, his other cleaning his own cum off me with another piece of toilet paper. I straightened up a little, not expecting it as I looked down at him. “You don’t have to–” I started, but he shushed me for the third time that night. He finished cleaning me up, and then helped me to stand, fixing my skirt and my top before looking down at me. After a moment he leaned down, pressing his lips against. ” She almost laughed at the look on his face. Like a guilty schoolboy looking for mercy but expecting none. “Mr Farmer!” she said, and thought she saw him wince, “ It’s 818213. Can you remember that or shall I write it down?” But Ben had beaten her to it, scrawling the number on the back of his hand. “I think I can manage, ” he replied, and left with a smile and a lighter heart. They met six times over the next two months. A few drinks in a fashionable Tapas Bar, a trip to the Cinema and dinner, twice. They had been wary of each other at first. Ben couldn’t get over the nagging feeling that she might analyse everything he said while Jane thought that he was editing every utterance carefully, choosing his words so as to keep all conversations on neutral ground. She found herself growing frustrated with him. She recognised this behaviour. Other men in her life had displayed the same symptoms. It was as if they believed she could hold up a mirror to their innermost thoughts and secrets..
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