Booty Called

I knew Inamorata was rather unhappy at her husband for delaying his flight home from Barcelona or Bonn or wherever the hell he’d been that week, but I never expected this…..

Friday night I was sat in front of the TV when Inamorata messaged me – she’d just got home from dinner and drinks out with friends and was obviously in the mood for more, and she was far from shy about letting me know it.

One taxi ride later she was sat in my lounge sharing a bottle of wine and a few home truths. Inamorata can be blunt but luckily alcohol softens her somewhat, loosening the tight self control. We talked again of life and love, and, after she told me in no uncertain terms that there was no way in hell we’d ever make it as a couple, she leaned over and kissed me.

The sex was amazing, and afterwards she fell asleep in my arms, the soft murmur of her breath music to my ears.

We awoke early, and after round 2 I dropped her off at the end of her road.

I hope that I’m not just gonna be that guy she calls after one too many to drink, but time will tell. I’ve never been someone’s booty call before, but it sure as hell beats loving her from afar

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