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By *naswingdress OP Woman
31 weeks ago

Manchester (she/her)

A story that I should have finished a long time ago.

Setting: northern NSW, Australia. January 2020.

Summer Rain (with apologies to Belinda Carlisle)

Australia Day always made her feel a little nostalgic. The end of January, when school holidays ended. When she was a kid, small businesses would then reopen and the normal grind of the year would begin. So much had changed in 20-odd years. In some ways she yearned for that slower pace of life. The simplicity of it.

Nostalgia, of course, isn’t what it used to be. In many ways Claire was much better off than she’d ever been. The predictions were that she’d come into her own when she left school, and they were spot on. Sidelined as a child, a timid little thing, she’d very much found herself in her twenties. Now well into her thirties... huh. If only they could see her now. The transformation had been rather remarkable.

Nevertheless, she decided to take a slightly more old fashioned summer trip. Not following her peers on dirt cheap Bali package holidays, she decided to travel up the coast, to the seaside town where she’d spent several summer holidays as a child. She wasn’t much one for patriotism, but she certainly preferred to support small regional businesses, rather than jump on a plane and wrap herself in flags made in China.

She was delighted to find an old fashioned Greek milk bar along the way, got a burger with the lot (hold the egg). She remembered to lay a towel down on the splintering wooden bench before she sat on it, the overloaded burger disintegrating in her hands and the pineapple juice dripping down her arms. She had baby wipes for this, same as her mum had all those years ago. The little town she’d stopped in was quiet, and she could hear the ever-present buzz of the insects that was typical on oppressively hot days like these. She could also see into the surrounding farmland, although it was obscured by a rather large mirage. It was interesting the way that heat could so obscure your vision.

After several more hours on the road, she arrived. The same little beachside huts her parents had favoured, looking a little careworn. Cheap airfares had much to answer for. But she still had a couple of hours to grab fish and chips, and sit just beyond the gently lapping waves, feeling the salty breeze tousle her hair. Like her parents had, while she and her siblings played in the sand.

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By *naswingdress OP Woman
31 weeks ago

Manchester (she/her)

The forecast for the weekend was a bit like those old ads for Queensland. “Beautiful one day, perfect the next.” Claire had plenty of sunscreen with her, and a rash vest to cover her bikini during the worst of the midday sun. She neither wanted a tan, nor the risks of cancer that had been drilled into her since before she could remember. Although her pale skin made her stand out, alongside her dark brown hair and striking blue eyes, the cancers risk outweighed the need to fit in.

Laughing to herself, she found herself doing as her mother had, waking just after dawn. Claire had complained about these sunrise walks, but now appreciated the stillness, the sand squeaking between her toes, the roar and crash of the tide. It was almost meditative. The temperature was under 30 for a couple of hours, too, which was a bit of a relief.

She thought she heard echoes of voices that seemed familiar while she was walking. Not family. But certainly from childhood. Memory is a funny thing. It was like being transported back to school days, how little things had changed up here. She had to be imagining things.

She sat in her hut watching the tide and the people arriving for the day. The Vegemite on toast hadn’t changed, but thank God coffee had improved somewhat since she was a kid. She didn’t think she could cope with that horrible burnt crap her parents used to drown in sugar. Having lingered over her coffee for awhile, she picked up her insulated bag and towel, slipped on her flip flops, and went to claim a space on the sand.

Claire threw herself into the tide, the way she’d done as a child. She was aware that people noticed her, although for very different reasons than they had when she was a gawky awkward girl. But she didn’t let it trouble her. She joined the children leaping against the waves, giggling alongside them. Mostly avoiding being wiped out. Mouthful of salty sand with a particularly strong wave. Ah well. You win some, you lose some. This was the stuff of Australian childhoods. Bliss.

The mix of sand and salty water was incomplete without a barbie, of course. The acrid scent of burnt onion and sausage made her mouth water, and, once again, made her think about school. She’d rather not! Instead, Claire wandered up the beach, crossed the road to the nearest corner store, and got herself a classic lemonade Icypole. Remembered when her younger sister was too little to eat them all herself, and the ice lolly would melt down her arm. Claire’s niece would appreciate hearing that story: Claire’s sister might not.

Once again Claire heard familiar voices, and dismissed them as her mind playing tricks. She was so caught up in the memory of her young sister, that she didn’t notice the man staring at her from the other end of the row of shops.

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By *naswingdress OP Woman
31 weeks ago

Manchester (she/her)

After lunch, Claire erected a beach umbrella on her spot in the sand. Just sit and people watch for awhile, put on some more sunscreen before heading back into the surf. She sipped her water as she observed the families. Toddlers being led into the water’s edge, older children playing in the sand, teenagers sunbathing. She was quite unusual being there on her own, but she didn’t mind.

Once she settled for a little while, she began to tire. There was something about the rhythmic crashing of the waves, and the relentless heat, that was soporific. She was determined to make the most of the weekend, though: she could sleep at home.

She took off her rash vest to prepare for thorough sunscreen application, loosening and detangling her long wavy hair. It was a tedious task, and she soon got lost in memories. Her mother yanking on the brush through her matted hair, the calls back from the surf to put on more sunscreen.

Claire was surprised, and a little perturbed, when she looked up to find a man standing at the edge of her towel, staring at her. Just before the instinctive “bugger off, dickhead” came out of her mouth, she realised that he looked familiar. She wasn’t sure why.

“Is that you, Claire?” She’d thought the man had been creepy: but it seemed he, too, was trying to figure out who she was.

“My God, you’ve changed. It’s Lachlan. We were in English class together in high school.”

Lachlan... Lachlan. Claire dug through her mind: she’d tried to erase most of high school from her memory. Oh, yes. They’d not really known each other that well, but he’d always been kind to her. More than she could say for so many others. She smiled as she remembered them being placed together as Romeo and Juliet, and how awkward it had been for both of them. And yes... of course. He had family up this way.

Claire thought the years had been kind to Lachlan, and said so. She was circumspect, but thought he’d really grown into his looks. She invited him to throw down a towel and join her, chat for a bit. She’d avoided all that school reunion crap, but this was a sudden, and rather pleasant, surprise.

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By *naswingdress OP Woman
31 weeks ago

Manchester (she/her)

Perhaps this nostalgia thing wasn’t so bad after all. She might go grab a snag from the barbie tomorrow. Lachlan’s family was running it, it turned out, raising money for the local primary school. Like Claire, he was single, although he spoke with pride about his nephews and nieces. He pointed them out in their rash vests building sand castles. The extended family all together. Claire realised she should probably give her cousins a call, it’d been too long.

Claire had tried not to dwell on running into people from school. A time in her life best forgotten. But it was surprising how relaxed she felt with Lachlan, even given his abrupt intrusion into her quiet reflection. He had become quite an interesting man. And yes. Most certainly attractive.

But she could still hear familiar voices, she thought. Not Lachlan, obviously. He was right here. Definitely male. Good lord, her mind was playing tricks on her. Wasn’t it?

As lovely as this was, Claire had a score to settle with the wave that had dumped her before. (Yes, she knew it didn’t work like that) She asked if she could swap details with Lachlan, so they could catch up another time. 2020 was just beginning, and it already seemed bright. There would be plenty more weekends: cafes, movies, more travel. Maybe more.

Lachlan readily agreed, a broad smile on his face. It turned out he didn’t live too far from her.

Claire was oblivious, habitually so. She didn’t notice the appreciative way that Lachlan took in her body as she stood, put her rash vest back on, and tied her hair back. That appreciation intensified as, once again, she lost herself in nostalgia. She ran, laughing, back into the surf.

Claire lost track of time in the sea, weaving through the waves. Jumping, diving, giggling with the older children who could safely swim so far out. Eventually, her muscles began to ache and the salt began to sting her eyes. Time to call it an evening, she decided.

She strolled up the beach towards her towel and small bag. She loved this part of the world, she could just leave her things and not have them nicked. The sun beginning to fade, she took off her sodden rash vest and put it over her arm. She loosened her hair, shaking it out in a way that would have been seductive, had it been intentional. But it rarely was, with her. She just wanted to make sure that it wasn’t a horrendous, matted mess.

Her thoughts turned to the burger joint she frequented with her family, back in the day. Was it still open, and might that make a nice dinner tonight?

That train of thought, however, was abruptly halted. She looked up to locate her stuff. In her line of vision was the man who, unbeknownst to her, had been staring while she’d been thinking about her sister and the ice lolly. She felt a familiar, jarring, twist in her stomach as her heart rate escalated. This was the voice that had been weaving in and out of her awareness since she arrived, taunting her memory.

He remained tall, dark and handsome, his gaze piercing her. Claire felt her body respond, a visceral non-verbal memory of being a teenager again. One who had quietly pined over the boy that now stood before her. Now very much a man. Suave, sophisticated, oh so popular. She had never dared say anything at the time, and her teenage feelings roared back, most unwelcome, into her present moment.

Claire felt much more conflicted than she had when she’d met Lachlan just a few hours before. But there was no mistaking who this was.

Despite herself, she could even recall the aftershave that Patrick used to wear, and the rush of overwrought teenage lust it brought over her.

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By *naswingdress OP Woman
31 weeks ago

Manchester (she/her)

Claire felt as though she had been hurled back twenty years. Timid, shy, and powerless. Her feelings towered over her like a particularly powerful wave. Strewth. She’d moved past this.

Still. She was certainly conflicted. Patrick, too, had aged well. Her thoughts churned, scrambled by both her vivid recollection and a new surge of lust. Fuck. Yes, she still wanted him. Maybe she hadn’t changed so much after all. Although... was she now in a better position to go after what she wanted, if it were possible? It had, of course, been awhile since she’d last indulged her insatiable libido.

Claire was in no position of power here. She’d have to react while she brought herself under control. It’d been an eternity since she’d had to suppress her feelings like this. Deep breaths, Claire. Deep breaths.

The intensity of Patrick’s stare diminished as he broke into a smile. Lord, even his early expression lines were attractive. Claire kicked herself, internally, trying to pull herself out of this lust driven haze.

“Claire! It’s been such a long time.” The reverberation of his voice through her head didn’t help matters at all. He strode towards her, and, with the jocular overconfidence she’d found endearing, wrapped his arms around her. Despite herself, Claire found herself melting into his embrace. How she’d longed to just touch him, back in the day...

Patrick had moved up here a few years ago, a sea change. It seemed convenient enough to accept his invitation for dinner, and yes, that burger place was still there. Most of the staff, the menu, and the decor unchanged. What a strange juxtaposition, her childhood memories and being here with probably her biggest teenage crush. She’d long found that life can be odd. Roll with it.

Claire tried very hard to relax. Not to over think: her greatest weakness years ago, and a lingering obstacle to overcome. Did they still do that ridiculous drink for kids? Her mum had made her stop ordering it because she was “too old”. Mum wasn’t watching now – and they did. Patrick looked askance at the glass decorated with ice cream, syrup, cream and sprinkles as the waitress brought it over. Claire dismissed her self-consciousness (this was about her nostalgia, after all). She settled into the conversation about the ways in which their lives had changed. It sounded like Patrick had done well for himself.

The uneasiness faded. Patrick had always been charming, she’d noted at a safe distance as a teenager. It felt wonderful being the object of his charm. And potentially more.

Claire wasn’t always oblivious, like she’d been with Lachlan before. It was more of a habit.

She thought she caught Patrick admiring her figure: tight shorts and T-shirt looking very different on her than they had when she was a tomboy. She couldn’t quite escape the reticence of her youth, though, and certainly wasn’t going to presume he was interested. The idea was a lot to get her head around. It didn’t quite make sense.

The bill arrived, and she found herself letting Patrick pay, rather than ruin a nice evening over principles. She found herself reflecting. Today had been an odd, emotionally charged day. Rather wonderful. But tiring. She needed a good night’s sleep, give her brain a chance to catch up.

As they walked towards the door, Claire again thought she heard things. Not voices this time. A deep rumbling in the distance, as though a thunderstorm were approaching. The forecast had been for sunshine. She checked her phone: it still was. She didn’t sense that a cold change was coming. You sometimes could, when summer rain abruptly broke through the tropical heat.

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By *naswingdress OP Woman
31 weeks ago

Manchester (she/her)

Hot, physically intense days tend to lend themselves to an abrupt enveloping tiredness. Claire would really appreciate her bed tonight. But when Patrick suggested they take a stroll along the shore as the sun went down… there was no way she was going to turn that down.

The waves lapped gently against the glistening sand. The sky was a kaleidoscope of colour against the orange of the setting sun. The temperature dropped gradually, and the remnants of the day’s heat were eased by a soft breeze. It was perfect… and trivial. Because Claire was walking side by side with Patrick. She could barely contain the bubbling, giddy excitement of her inner teenager. She wasn’t trying to suppress it any more: just maintain some composure.

Claire’s feelings clashed against one another. Her fatigue; the magnetism with which Patrick drew her in. Wanting to listen to his every word; being distracted by the barely repressed, bounding excitement she felt. Nostalgia again: it was like a stifling Christmas Eve. After a packed, sweaty carol service, the only thing stopping her from falling asleep on the way home was anticipating Santa.

… What a thing to think of at a moment like this. Claire. Honestly!

Patrick had been talking about the benefits of living in a small community, rather than the big smoke. Claire had barely heard a word, truth be known. They had reached the end of the beach. Looking inland, Claire laughed at the sudden sight of a giant bronze Queen Victoria in the town’s main park. The image of the Queen was quite clear: in front of the statue, the fountain had been turned off due to water restrictions. An odd tension between the realities of modern Australia, and an imagining of a glorious past in the distant, almost mythical, mother country.

Patrick was standing so close that Claire could feel the heat radiating from his body, almost taste the sweat breaking through his aftershave and deodorant. Claire’s mind bounced from topic to topic, trying to avoid her lust in vain. She saw the way he was looking at her. And she didn’t dare to look at him in the same way. She was so tired, but – oh god – every fibre of her being wanted him. Her overwrought teenage self was winning this battle, trying to break through her self control. She thought she’d wanted an early night!

It was clear that their walk had come to an end, and a decision had to be made. Patrick turned to face Claire. She could feel his breath on her face, and hoped he didn’t notice that hers shuddered, as she struggled to contain herself. For fuck’s sake, Claire, you’re not a teenager any more.

“This has been a most pleasant evening, Claire” Patrick almost purred, and the seductive look in his eyes was unmistakeable. Claire was instantly aroused. “The time has flown, great company, and wonderful conversation. I can think of only one thing that might top it off. Might I…” He paused, his eyes twinkling mischievously, “have a taste?”

Despite all the signs, despite how obvious it was what Patrick wanted… it took Claire a few seconds to realise what he was asking. Her teenage experience of Patrick was so different to this… could it be true? Could he actually want her?

She found herself unable to speak: she felt quite overwhelmed. She nodded vigorously.

Patrick caressed her neck as he took hold of her. He leant in, devouring her: an unusually aggressive kiss, but Claire wasn’t about to complain. She melted into him, her hands exploring his back and muscular shoulders. The experience was so powerful that when Patrick stepped back, she found herself gasping for air.

He openly took her in now, his gaze ravenous.

“I’m going to enjoy you. Your place, or mine?”

Christ, Claire was so tired. Not the way she wanted to fulfil the fantasies she wouldn’t have dared to have, twenty odd years ago. She knew she was a better lover than she could be tonight.

The irritation in Patrick’s eyes, when she explained this, was as fleeting as it was clear. She hoped it wouldn’t last. But… she was in no fit state to have him, tonight.

He kissed her again, before they went their separate ways. As Claire watched the moon reflected on the sea, she wondered if she felt the early signs of a cold front coming. The forecast was still for sunshine, but she sensed a coming storm.

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By *naswingdress OP Woman
31 weeks ago

Manchester (she/her)

Claire’s mind raced as she walked back to her hut. Trying to reassure herself that she’d done the right thing. Hoping she hadn’t blown it. Her teenage self roaring with righteous indignation: what a terrible mistake she’d made!

But Claire really needed to sleep. Not engage in more self-flagellation.

She felt her body begin to disengage before she opened the front door, barely registering the cold of the air conditioning slapping against the remnants of the day’s heat. Despite her inner turmoil, she didn’t even remember hitting the pillow.

It had, of course, been the right decision. A night with Patrick would not have involved much, if any, sleep.

Once again Claire was awake at dawn, the sun beginning to peer through the blanket of darkness you don’t see down in Sydney. Rather than walking, this morning she sat by the edge of the water, letting it lap at her toes, then her feet. Reflecting.

Last night, so vivid; yet so unreal. She’d run so long to escape her past, buried it. And in trying to reclaim it, it had finally chased her down. She wasn’t sure what to make of that. How to be the woman she’d fought to become, not the shell of a girl she’d been.

Nostalgia. It really isn’t what it used to be.

Claire noticed the cool of the water against her feet. Rise, swell, retreat. Again and again. Focus on the physical sensations and the way they contrasted. Tried to meditate, in the hope that the existential angst would wash out to sea. This, too, shall pass.

The sun began to warm her skin, after awhile, like a blush creeping up her face. She didn’t know how long she’d been sitting there, but it was time to go inside, get some coffee, and put some sunscreen on.

As she walked back up the beach, she saw Lachlan’s siblings carrying supplies for the fundraising barbecue, including what must have been at least ten litres of tomato sauce. Claire smiled. She must make sure to get a snag for lunch, and slip some more money into the donation tin.

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By *inky grandadMan
31 weeks ago

Spain

👍🔥🔥

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By *naswingdress OP Woman
31 weeks ago

Manchester (she/her)

Claire checked the weather, again, while waiting for her coffee to brew. No wonder she’d been feeling warm. Change of forecast: it was set to get into the mid-40s today. Reason to get a move on, then. Time in the sea before it became unbearably hot or the risk of sunburn too high. After lunch, maybe a novel or a nap.

She’d spend most of Australia Day in the car, driving home tomorrow. So today would be the day to mark it. She’d got some of that coloured zinc you used to see all the time, in green and gold. After she applied sunscreen, she smeared a line of each across her cheeks.

A somewhat nostalgic nod to patriotism.

“Australians, all, let us rejoice, for we are young and free,

With golden soil, and work for toil,

Our home is girt by sea”

The beach was busier today, of course. But not crowded the way that Bondi might be, or a beach at a more salubrious location. The sand beneath her thongs was already becoming uncomfortably hot as the temperature began to soar. The sun danced across the waves, the deep, rich blue reflected by the cloudless sky above. The gum trees by the edge of the sand rustled and creaked in the wind. Today Claire could detect the faint scent of eucalyptus alongside salt, sunscreen, and the burnt onion from the barbie.

She ran into the surf on her toes, to try to stop the sand burning her feet.

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By *naswingdress OP Woman
31 weeks ago

Manchester (she/her)

The surf was definitely rougher today, and there were a lot more people frolicking in the waves. Claire recalled a British comedian joke about Australians leaping into the supposedly dangerous sea, to escape the relentless heat. Not so, of course, but rather amusing.

Once again, she was back to her childhood, one with her body and her experience. The roaring, crashing waves only overpowered by the delighted laughter of the children around her. Jumping and diving just out of sync with the arc of the wave. A simple, confident joy in the here and now: endless and timeless, it could seem. Claire used to imagine that this was the same all over the world, before she’d travelled and understood that other children lived differently. She’d read about Brighton and Blackpool as a girl, idealised British holiday spots: she’d been shocked to discover that they were nothing like the beaches she took for granted. Britain certainly had its charms, but Australia was, indeed, the ‘lucky country’.

Plenty of time to reflect later, though. Claire suspected that the life guards were a bit worried about the potential for rip currents, today. Lots of kids, slightly more challenging conditions. Must stay alert, even slightly lost in the reverie of the ocean.

The crowd meant that she was hit by a fair few boards (the little boogie boards: they stung more than hurt). She’d tried them as a child, and she much preferred swimming without. After another blow to the head, and half-hearted apology from a little boy, she noticed Patrick had returned to the beach.

Claire forgot the little boy existed.

Patrick’s rippling muscles glistened in the sun, and Claire had a vivid, visceral flashback to the night before. The hunger with which he’d kissed her. Oh god, he was… such a fine specimen of a man. What a view. Claire wandered to the water’s edge to have a slightly closer look.

Patrick was sunbathing up near the surf lifesaving club, and seemed to be turning an uncomfortable shade of pink. (Pink rather suited him – except use your upstairs brain, Claire, that’s going to be a nasty burn) He too, had a nod to Australia Day with his Southern Cross boardies. As it ever was: he was effortlessly cool. Claire suddenly felt self-conscious about the zinc across her face. She was who she was, and she’d learned to be unashamedly herself. Normally, that was more than enough. Normally…

Claire noticed herself overthinking, and swore under her breath. As far as she’d come, as long as she’d run, her past was still right there, threatening to engulf her. It wasn’t healthy. It certainly wasn’t the kind of nostalgia she was seeking.

Later, Claire: deal with it later.

She wrenched herself from her psychological spiral, and turned to throw herself back into the surf. It was crowded, and she wasn’t entirely paying attention. As she turned, she accidentally hit a young girl across the shoulder, quite hard. Claire winced and then knelt to apologise: the girl was now crying. Hopefully just the shock of the blow.

Claire was focused on the girl, but after a moment noticed a man’s feet out of the corner of her eye.

“What happened, Tillie? Are you alright?” Claire and Lachlan were equally startled to be seeing each other again. They spoke over the top of each other. Claire apologised profusely, and Lachlan explained that Tillie (Matilda) was his niece.

Tillie seemed to be alright after a few minutes, but Claire was a bit rattled that she’d been so careless. It was about time for lunch, anyway, and Lachlan was helping with the barbie. He scooped Tillie up and almost danced up the beach carrying her. He sang the chorus to Waltzing Matilda, accompanied by Tillie’s happy squeals. Claire walked slightly behind them, finding Tillie’s joy quite infectious. At least there was no harm done.

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By *naswingdress OP Woman
31 weeks ago

Manchester (she/her)

The great Aussie barbie. Almost a cultural institution, laden with clichés. Get between an Aussie bloke and his tongs at your peril. That looked like Lachlan’s dad. Claire couldn’t suppress her smile. This scene had played out hundreds of times in her own life, with her own family, at school events, during elections (“democracy sausage” now firmly part of the Australian vocabulary). Nostalgia, again: the comfortable sort.

Lachlan introduced Claire to his family as she bought a sausage and a bottle of chilled water (discreetly slipping a few notes into the donation tin). She didn’t remember his parents or siblings, wasn’t sure she’d met them. His parents, in particular, seemed to give Lachlan a knowing smile as she spoke to them. Odd. But... well. Families are odd.

They were interesting people, opinionated. The conversation quickly turned from small talk, to a discussion of the books they were reading. Claire had always been a voracious reader, and had brought a few books with her in case the weather had turned particularly foul (it was January, after all, you could never tell). She felt right in her element debating the merits of recent novels. Just after she arrived on Friday, she’d finished the latest Scandi noir thriller – the blood trail on snow drifts quite a contrast to her current surroundings – which Lachlan mentioned he was looking forward to reading. She gave an honest review (great plotting, some sloppy writing).

The temperature continued to soar. The heat and humidity together were oppressive, almost constricting them, the background hum of insects rising along with the heat. Further inland, the cicada chorus would be deafening.

The sun on Claire’s skin began to grow uncomfortable: her sunscreen was probably beginning to wear off. Time to seek shade, avoid burns or heat exhaustion. She realised that the heat was making her particularly tired. Perhaps yesterday’s fatigue still lingered.

Given the temperature, it was probably best to head inside. It was a bit of a shame. Claire was enjoying this very much. She wished his parents luck with the fundraising, and asked Lachlan if he wanted to borrow the thriller, come up to her beachside hut when he could be spared from the barbecue. His mother smiled pointedly at Lachlan, again, and said that he could be spared now, even for a couple of hours.

“Families are weird”, Claire thought wryly. But yes, this would be fine. She asked if Lachlan wanted to come with her, have a cup of coffee out of the sun. He readily agreed.

Claire and Lachlan returned to their discussion of Scandi noir as they strolled up the beach. Their thoughts a long way away – perhaps to the coffees they’d have when they met in Sydney in the future.

Not far behind them, at the surf lifesaving club, Patrick had risen from his towel to find some lunch, before working some more on his tan. As his eyes scanned across the beach he spotted Claire – who had become striking, not the forgettable little thing she once was – walking away with Lachlan. Once again he stared intensely at Claire, his gaze unwavering until she and Lachlan disappeared into her hut.

Even if he had been less fixated, he might not have heard the rumbling of thunder in the distance.

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By *otonfoxMan
31 weeks ago

Southampton

[Removed by poster at 01/10/25 09:31:30]

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By *otonfoxMan
31 weeks ago

Southampton

This is beautifully written and I look forward to reading more

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By *inky grandadMan
31 weeks ago

Spain

👍🔥🔥

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By *eroLondonMan
31 weeks ago

Mayfair

Bookmårkíng. 📚

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By *naswingdress OP Woman
31 weeks ago

Manchester (she/her)

Claire busied herself making them coffee: talking through her scales, her Aeropress, and everything that made the coffee taste how it did. She was always one to focus on these little details, often to the detriment of more pressing things.

So there she was, rabbiting on about pulped natural coffee. Meanwhile, she didn’t notice that Lachlan’s teeth were chattering. At least, not until she turned around.

Claire was mortified.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry. I get so drawn into stuff, and I lose track of everything around me. Do you want me to turn the air con down?”

As she reached for the remote, Lachlan raised his hand, signalling no.

“I reckon I’ve burned a bit. Mum’s kept me busy, so I forgot to put more sunscreen on. Got any after sun?”

By the time he’d finished talking, Claire had fished it out of her bag. Forgetting herself, she threw it over to him. It was the way she acted with her friends from university, people she’d loved for years. People she could be herself with.

Not this man: this man who was barely more than an acquaintance.

He seemed much more aware how long it had been, how distant their relationship had been. When Claire looked up from her coffee, she found Lachlan contorting himself, clearly trying to reach parts of his back he couldn’t. When Claire offered to help, to eliminate the comedic scene before her, the redness in his face deepened beyond the sunburn.

But Claire had already snapped back to her comfortable obliviousness.

“Come on, off” she laughed, gesturing at his shirt. “You can’t reach that on your own, you silly bugger”.

As her fingers swept across his back, she wondered how Lachlan got so badly burned, so quickly. The aloe vera was cooling, for sure, but with goosebumps like those, he was suffering far more than he was letting on. She turned up the air conditioning a couple of degrees, before returning her focus to his sore looking skin.

After finishing his lower back, Claire decided that it was worth rinsing her rash vest. With barely an acknowledgement of what she was doing, she whipped it off, leaving only her dark green bikini.

But the burn was even worse on his shoulders!

She swept her hair up into a messy bun, to get it out of the way, and got back to work. The goosebumps, that’s because he was cold. But as she leaned against him, to get a better angle, she could feel his heart pounding away. That he wasn’t shivering: his breath was shuddering.

“Claire…” Lachlan struggled to articulate her name. “Claire. It’s… it’s ok. You don’t have to...”

His eyes were laser focused on his mug of coffee. He hurriedly moved his left hand to his lap. Claire slowly began to focus on things other than red skin and after sun.

“I think… I think I can reach the rest now.”

Claire put the tube on the table in front of Lachlan, trying to act natural.

Don’t make anything worse, Claire. He hadn’t done anything wrong. She’d just barged into his personal space, like an idiot.

At the end of the day, no matter how much had changed, she was still the same idiot that she always was. Damn it!

She sat back down, feeling that the space had shrunk around her. Wishing that she could undo what she’d just done. The last thing she’d want is for anyone to feel uncomfortable. She knew what that felt like, in spades.

The Siren song of shame began in her head: the one she knew the words to, the chords, the harmonies. The song that leads nowhere good, that leads to her being comforted by a man whose boundaries she’d just encroached upon. That was the last thing that she wanted to happen.

Claire took three deep breaths. Let the shame wash back out to sea. Centre yourself.

“I’m sorry” Lachlan whispered, beating Claire to those words by seconds. “I’m sorry.” His eyes didn’t move from the mug, his left hand stayed in his lap.

Claire felt a jolt of confusion. What on earth did Lachlan have to be sorry about?

“Hey,” she started. “What do you mean, sorry? Sorry for what? I’m…”

With his left hand still immobile in his lap, Lachlan reached out to grab her hand. He dragged his eyes away from the mug, and Claire felt another jolt. Lachlan was crying.

“It’s been so long, Claire, we’ve all changed so much. Well, you have. I’ve still only got eyes for you. Always did. Begged Mrs Cox…”

He stopped. Claire’s mind was racing. Mrs Cox… English class?

“I begged Mrs Cox to cast Romeo as literally anyone else. I didn’t want you to know. Still can’t control myself. Fuck.”

Lachlan stood up abruptly. His left hand seemed almost paralysed, like it was stuck in that one specific spot. Claire stood up, too. Her mind hadn’t quite caught up with what he’d just said. She just knew that she wanted him to stay there, right now. This wasn’t right. She’d really fouled this up. She always fouled up so much. (And the shame would be something to deal with in therapy, later.)

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By *naswingdress OP Woman
31 weeks ago

Manchester (she/her)

It all began to make sense. Lachlan’s parents. The tittering about that stupid play. The way Lachlan was nicer to her than just about anyone else, back then. Even told Patrick to fuck off, once, when he’d been picking on her. A fragile looking boy with unfathomable, irrational courage.

Claire felt a bit winded: the emotional brunt had hit her like a speeding road train. But she knew Lachlan had to feel worse.

He hadn’t done anything wrong.

“Hey, wait” she started, as he turned towards the door. “Don’t go.”

Lachlan’s eyes were red, tears glittering. He looked humiliated. Claire didn’t blame him.

“You’re right, I have changed. I was just a stupid kid, and I’m really sorry. So much has changed. I wish I’d known you better, then. I want to know you better now.”

She moved towards the door and leaned on it, just to buy herself a little time. “Please don’t go. Not yet.”

As she moved to give him a clear path to leave, Lachlan took her hand again. She could see the way he was steadying himself. Like her, trying to let feelings settle back down. His gaze was focused on his shoes. His voice still wavered slightly.

“I’m just trying to control myself. I want you to feel secure. I thought I could, after all this time. Maybe I’m still that stupid kid.”

Claire felt a pang of guilt, and a pang of recognition. Lachlan had been running from something, too, only to collide with her. A ghost of his own past.

He wasn’t as he said, though. Was he ever a stupid kid?

He’d lost the awkwardness of youth, his reedy body having filled out over the years. Even as he was coming apart in front of her, she sensed a steadiness about him, a calm, a quiet confidence. Perhaps she was his weakness, something that knocked him off his usual course. His grip on her hand was firm, but not intolerably so.

Claire’s instincts kicked in. She took her free hand and stroked his cheek.

“I’ve not felt this comfortable around someone in a long time. I’m sorry. I’m genuinely enjoying spending time with you. I hope I haven’t ruined this.”

Lachlan’s breath was still irregular, his eyes still firmly focused on the ground. She felt something give way as her hand brushed his face. Tension giving way.

He was still struggling to get his words out.

“I should probably… I’m going to do something incredibly stupid if I don’t go.”

Claire chuckled, in spite of herself. “Nothing you could do right now could top how stupid I’ve just been. Go right ahead.”

Lachlan’s gaze came from the floor. It looked like it had taken him all of his strength to look at her again. Claire didn’t have time to think about what she’d said and what that might mean: he took her face into both of his hands. Claire felt her pulse quicken. Shaking, he leaned in and pecked her on the lips, pulling back almost as quickly.

“I’m sorry I’m such an idiot.” he mumbled, turning his head away.

Claire wrapped her arms around his shoulders, drawing him slightly closer. “Zero idiocy detected, you daft git. I like you quite a lot.”

She reached up so she could kiss him again. Pressed into him, and let her hands slide down his back. His breath felt laboured, and she abruptly realised why he’d had his hand on his lap.

This was no longer a consideration of lust, something that might happen in theory.

She wasn’t quite sure what she made of Lachlan yet, this older Lachlan. But she knew they had more exploring to do. She grabbed his arse firmly, grinding her hips against him. His lips grazed her neck like a whisper, and now she was covered in goosebumps too. They were both panting. Claire felt a little unsteady on her feet, and suggested they sit down.

She squeezed his arse again as they got to the sofa, grinning at him. After they sat down, he cupped his face in her hands again, kissing her much more confidently, his eyes ablaze as he looked at her again.

Claire pulled her hair free, then leaned back. There were certain things that were harder to do, sitting up. This time, Lachlan didn’t need to be told. He took her hands and placed them above her head, grasping her wrists together. Steadying himself with his other arm, he thrust his pelvis against her as they kissed. His insecurity seemed to have evaporated.

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By *heBigBadWolf44Man
31 weeks ago

Northwich

Beautifully written. Loving the build up and anticipation

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By *inky grandadMan
31 weeks ago

Spain

👍🔥🔥

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By *naswingdress OP Woman
31 weeks ago

Manchester (she/her)

Ending the kiss, Lachlan raised his head slightly. He was beaming, and his delight was infectious. Everything about this was joyful. This kind of thing was such a rare delight – especially after she’d fouled up earlier.

The fact that Claire’s green and gold zinc had smeared all over their faces didn’t even matter.

Lachlan took his hand from above her head, and began to caress down her body. There was no hiding her reaction: the bikini barely hid anything, up close. Claire involuntarily arched her back, her nipples hardening. Lachlan, whose face was flushed again, was experimenting with how she reacted to different kinds of touch. He seemed to be studying her.

Claire, noticing he’d stopped for a moment, reached up and stroked his nipple. When he gasped, she wriggled down a bit and started using her tongue, using one hand to trace down his back and up to his neck.

Part of her desperately wanted to fuck him. She knew it would be an experience of mutual laughter, probably minimal embarrassment. But she didn’t want to move too quickly. She’d done enough of that today, even if it was turning out well.

Curiosity got the better of her. She took her hand from his back, and began running it down his chest. Still the same tracing pattern, which seemed to be driving him crazy. His panting turned into something closer to moaning as she reached the top of his board shorts. She stayed over the top of them, feeling the shape of his erection. She knew she was gasping a little, too. Lachlan wasn’t the only one who might lose control today, if they weren’t careful.

“Claire – fuck, I don’t want you to stop. But I don’t have… I don’t have any…” Lachlan couldn’t find the words.

It took a moment to figure out what Lachlan was saying. All her effort, too. Claire had to fight past everything happening – the smell of their intermingled sweat, sunscreen, and after sun, their erratic heart rates, this incredible mutual joy – to find the part of her mind that was still thinking.

No, she didn’t have any either. It’s not what you pack for a recreated childhood holiday.

“I can nip to the chemist?” Claire’s body was determined to get its way. She had to have him. Everything ached with desire.

Lachlan smirked. “You could, but my whole extended family might see your face. Your Warney zinc has gone everywhere. My face is probably a mess, too, isn’t it?”

Claire hadn’t cared, but yes, it was. Green and gold smeared all over him. That wouldn’t do. Pain in the arse to get off, too. She started giggling at the thought. It was pretty absurd.

“Not just your face, Lachie. All over your chest.”

By this point they were both laughing.

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By *inky grandadMan
31 weeks ago

Spain

👍🔥🔥

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By *naswingdress OP Woman
31 weeks ago

Manchester (she/her)

As a note on expectations about the length of the story and when I'll post: this story is incomplete, but what's posted above is up to the end of page 14 of 18, and I'm still writing.

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By *naswingdress OP Woman
31 weeks ago

Manchester (she/her)

The situation had wrested Claire’s mind out of its reverie. Obviously Lachlan had to get the zinc off him. It’s not that there was no explaining it. It’d be bleedingly obvious.

It was a job for the makeup remover, but given it’s oil based…

There was really no other sensible option.

Claire wriggled out from under Lachlan. “Come on, I know what we need to do.” She walked towards the bedroom, deliberately swaying her hips and swishing her hair. Lachlan was making unintelligible noises: it wasn’t clear if he was enjoying this, or trying to object.

“But… condoms?”

He stood at the bedroom door as Claire rummaged through her bag. Caught the makeup remover she chucked at him, like a cricket ball.

“Step one, soak this into some cotton wool, and wipe it off. Don’t worry, I’ll help.”

There was, they discovered, no way to make that job sexy. They nearly collapsed onto the bed in more fits of giggles. But they got it done.

“And step two?” Lachlan sounded sceptical.

Claire looked up and down at him, smirking. She stood, took two steps back, and raised one eyebrow at him.

His jaw dropped almost as fast as her bikini top.

“Well, now we’ve got to wash all that oil off.”

Claire started walking to the bathroom. Assumed Lachlan would follow her. When she got to the door, she turned around, finding him still sitting on the bed. His jaw still hanging open.

“I… fuck me, Claire.” His eyes were like saucers.

She grinned. Undoing the knot, she let the rest of her bikini fall away.

“Later. After we shower.” She reached her arm, and beckoned him over. “You’re overdressed. Lose the shorts.”

Lachlan took his sweet time getting up. Claire leaned on the door frame, one hand sliding up above her head, and the other down past her hips. Pretending to look sexy, at least. Getting him over here.

She was trying not to stare. Not be too hungry for him. The condoms were at the chemist, Claire. Something had to be held back.

Lachlan was almost within touching distance. His eyes smouldering, he bit his lip. Moved his hands up to the top of his shorts, slowly beginning to peel them away. His cock bounced back as it escaped its confines. Lachlan let the shorts drop to the floor, and stepped out of them.

Now Claire’s jaw hung open. Damn it, that control was going to be hard to come by. Best get to it.

“This water takes a little bit to warm up” she warned Lachlan, as she reached for the tap. “Give it a minute.”

She was halfway through tying her hair back up, when Lachlan stepped forward and kissed her again, her arse in one hand and neck in the other. Claire’s hands were, of course, busy with her hair. Struggling to do both things at once, she finally contained the mop so she could concentrate. Skin on skin. Pushing up against each other. Jagged breaths. More and more obvious patches of wetness.

Water running… fuck. Shower. She’d turned the shower on and had already forgotten.

She stepped into the shower, avoiding getting her hair wet. Picked up the body wash with one hand and beckoned with the other.

“I’d like a redo of earlier, please.” She squeezed the soap into her hands and rubbed it together, as Lachlan stepped into the shower. Nibbling on his ear, she rubbed soap all over his chest, then broke away to do his face. As he rinsed himself off, she used her face wash, and gestured to the body wash. He did a haphazard job on his arms and legs. He put more body wash in his hands, then thought better of it.

Still cupping the body wash in one hand, he leant over and took her nipple between his teeth. With just enough pressure to make her whole body throb. Hearing her grunts of pleasure, he nibbled on her other nipple as well. Then meticulously, slowly, ran the soap all over her torso, while she stood there panting helplessly. She barely noticed him detach the shower head to rinse her off, then start playing with the controls. She didn’t know what he was doing. There was very little she could comprehend right now, but desire.

The next thing she knew, Lachlan was on his knees, kissing down her stomach. One hand on the small of her back, the other tracing up her inner thigh. She mindlessly ran her fingers through his hair. He was a man on a mission. She cried out when his lips found their target, and had to stop herself from pulling his hair in response to the sudden burst of pleasure.

“God, you’re so wet,” came the hoarse whisper from between her legs. Claire tried to confirm this, but all she managed to do was make some indistinct noises. “I’ll need to come back to this” he said, and she could detect the smile in Lachlan’s voice.

The man moved fast. At least, faster than her brain could manage right now. He’d stood up, had taken the shower head, and applied it right between her legs. Claire’s whole body jolted as the jet hit its target: her orgasm making her wobble precariously on her feet.

Lachlan quickly abandoned the head, turned off the water, and helped her sit on the floor of the shower. Claire was completely dazed, pleasure making her punch-d*unk. Though she hadn’t quite forgotten that she wanted to return the favour.

Lachlan moved his leg out of the way, to accommodate her wandering hand. She adored the way penises could respond under her fingers, and his was absolutely no exception. She savoured every twitch, every pulse, gently rubbing her finger around the top. Lachlan was reduced to gurgling noises and panting. Until, finding some part of her mind coming back, Claire lowered her head. As her tongue met him, he emitted what could only be described as a growl. Claire was delighted.

And – more and more turned on.

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By *naswingdress OP Woman
31 weeks ago

Manchester (she/her)

Before she got much further, though, Lachlan abruptly brought his knees up, making his cock fall from her mouth.

“C- Claire, I… wait” he gasped for air. “I’m close. I’m very close.”

Claire didn’t really see the problem. “One for me, one for you?”

Lachlan laughed. “No. No. Not like this. I want to do this properly. With condoms. In a bed. I’m a sentimental bastard like that.”

Claire took another deep breath. Switch gears.

“Right. OK.” She pushed herself up into a seated position. “Well, we probably can’t do the chemist run without your family noticing. At least not on your lunch break.”

She leaned on his shoulder, sighing contentedly. “Do you think you would have told me, if I hadn’t blundered into this?”

Lachlan wrapped his arm around her. “No. I’ve always been a bit chicken shit. I’m glad you, and he” he gestured at his penis “forced the issue.”

Claire agreed. “How long before you’ve got to be back?”

“Soon as possible, realistically. Mum was being generous. She’s a hard task master, particularly with fundraising.”

They both stood up, trying to calm themselves down. The coffee, unsurprisingly, had gone completely cold. Claire tipped it out.

“There’s one… large problem with acting like nothing happened” Claire said, gesturing to his erection.

Lachlan retorted: “I mean, that’s your fault.”

Claire wondered how she’d help him calm down. Particularly as she’d want to help him put more sunscreen on.

Then it hit her.

“Hey Lachie, I think you missed a spot. Jump back in the shower. I won’t be long.”

He didn’t suspect a thing.

As soon as he walked out of the kitchen, she opened a cupboard. She heard the water turn on, waited for it to heat up, then hit the switch. She counted to ten before he howled like a wounded animal.

“Claire! Claire! What the fuck?”

She raced in there, trying not to laugh too hard.

This time he really was shivering. Poor thing.

“Did you turn the hot water off? Why are you laughing at me?”

Claire tried to get it together, apologising between giggles.

She pointed at his penis. “It worked, didn’t it?”

Lachlan spluttered, grabbed a towel, and marched over to her.

“Yes. But that doesn’t mean” he paused, and his eyes flickered mischievously, “I won’t get you back for that. Watch yourself. Bloody cow.”

He then grabbed her arse, kissed her on the cheek, and laughed.

“Let’s get moving. Don’t take it personally, but I’m going to avoid you the rest of the day. It’s not you, it’s my family. My gerries aren’t daft, and I’ll never hear the end of it. See you at the RSL tonight though, yeah?”

Claire was half listening, half thinking about getting sunscreen on before Lachlan got excited again. Zinc back on. Something else she’d forgotten…

“RSL?” she muttered.

“Yeah, Australia Day karaoke. It’s always great fun. Tillie’s been practicing for weeks.”

Claire nodded, her mind going over the songs she could pull off. Her standard was The Whitlam’s “Blow up the Pokies”, but it was maybe inappropriate in that context.

They hurriedly helped each other with the sunscreen, reciting “think unsexy thoughts”. You know, a bit like stupid kids. But in the best possible way.

Claire was deep in thought as she applied her zinc, going through all the Australian songs she knew she could sing. Also being careful to not look too chummy in front of Lachlan’s family.

Delta was a bit high; she could knock Tina Arena down an octave. (If the kids weren’t there, maybe “Chains?” That might be kind of hot, and it’s retro enough that she’d get away with it.) Something to come back to.

Now, to the important questions.

Did Claire apply her zinc in the same order as before? Did Lachlan remember to borrow Claire’s novel?

Lachlan’s dad grinned broadly when he saw Claire again, right up until Lachlan’s mum kicked him in the shins and gave him a filthy look.

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By *inky grandadMan
31 weeks ago

Spain

👍🔥🔥

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By *naswingdress OP Woman
31 weeks ago

Manchester (she/her)

As he said, Lachlan quickly made himself scarce. Took his youngest relatives off for a nap, so their parents could tend to the barbecue.

Claire decided to leave the beach for the afternoon. It was too hot and too crowded: and she should remind herself of where the RSL was. After buying another bottle of water from the barbecue, she got out her wide brim hat, threw on a dress, and started walking down the main road.

As she was walking, Claire noticed the ominous clouds beginning to roll in from the west. Typical. It was a long weekend in January, after all.

Sure enough, at the end of the road, the RSL club had a worn sign: “Australia Day karaoke, 7pm”, right above the menu board. Another menu that hadn’t changed in 20 years, it looked like. Claire smiled to herself. Even decades ago that menu would have been dated, back in Sydney. This place was a bit of a time capsule. She was so glad she’d come.

An old car slowed in front of her, the driver winding his window down.

“Had enough of the beach, Claire?”

Strewth! Claire nearly jumped out of her skin.

Patrick grinned. “Did I startle you? Sorry.”

Claire still couldn’t help the way she reacted to him. Even as her post-orgasm reverie hadn’t entirely faded. She could barely think through the lust. The memory of that kiss.

“I’m heading up to the cape. On a clear day like today, bet you could almost see New Zealand from there. Fancy coming? Lunch is on me.”

Fuck.

Her mind pulled itself in two different directions: she liked Lachlan so much, and this afternoon had been incredible. If this worked out well, he only lived in Cherrybrook. A piece of piss to get to from Thornleigh.

But she’d made Lachlan no promises…

Patrick was nearly a full day’s drive from her. More an unknown quantity. Almost certainly a one time thing. Even the sight of him set her soul on fire, her nerves like lightning on the water. Even last night’s kiss would have been an overwhelming, perfect outcome, when she was a kid. The mere possibility of more made her quiver.

She’d made Lachlan no promises…

Her thoughts scrambled again. How did Patrick do this to her?!

Think less, act more. That had been her 2020 resolution…

She was in the car before she really knew what she’d done. Her stomach doing backflips.

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By *naswingdress OP Woman
31 weeks ago

Manchester (she/her)

Patrick knew a place. Out by the studs, not far from the cape. Great food. Way better than that bogan burger joint.

It was a short, pleasant drive up there. When Californication came on the radio, he turned it up, doing a near perfect rendition. He was perfect at everything, wasn’t he? Claire sighed.

After he finished singing, Claire started to say that she’d already eaten, until Patrick started to stroke up her thigh. The touch was electric, and Claire lost the ability to speak.

As they got out of the car, he swept her into his arms and kissed her. The same hunger in him. Her knees buckled. She couldn’t have resisted even if she wanted to. Supporting Claire with both the car and his arms, he leaned into her, his kiss as voracious as his wandering hands up and down her back. Claire’s whole body thr*bbed, and she felt herself turn to putty. Then he moved his hips towards hers. Claire’s eyes widened.

“God! Really?”

Patrick nodded. “You like?” Claire was rendered mute again, and just nodded in return. Glad that she was being held up by both him and the car.

“With any luck, you’ll be unlocking my gold soon enough.”

If Claire had had her wits about her, she might have done something other than nod helplessly, and imagine what that might feel like…

She found her voice again.

“Lunch?” she squeaked. God, she sounded so pitiful, but it had taken everything in her to get a word out at all. She was struggling for air again.

“Right. Lunch. Yes.”

Patrick reached into his car and came out with a bag, and his jacket. He pulled out some baby oil and tissues, and wordlessly handed them to Claire. He rested the bag and jacket on his car, while wiping the smeared zinc off his face. When their faces were cleaned up – as best as you could with baby oil – he put on his jacket and gestured to go inside.

It was a nicer place than Claire had been expecting. Far nicer than she thought the economy up here could support. Suppose it must be all the equestrian money.

She’d decided – while she was still thinking – to order a small salad. Go along to get along: the sausage from the barbecue had been enough. She was doubly sure of this when she saw the prices: steep even by Sydney standards. Sparkling water, too. She couldn’t think straight at the best of times with Patrick around.

After they ordered, Claire went to the bathroom to try to get the oil off her face, even if she had to use the hand soap. Worst possible thing to have on your skin, on a day like this. As she started to walk back to the table, she saw Patrick look annoyed with a member of staff, mutter “brigad”, and shoo her away.

His face quickly changed as he noticed Claire. He beamed at her. Kept the conversation light, with every sexual innuendo turning Claire’s insides to jelly. She didn’t really notice the salad at all, which was a shame: she certainly wouldn’t haunt a place like this again, any time soon.

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By *naswingdress OP Woman
31 weeks ago

Manchester (she/her)

It was spectacular indeed, up on the cape. Couldn’t quite see New Zealand, but the Tasman stretched out into what looked like forever. There was a sign noting that you might spot whales in winter, too. Everything sparkled in the sun: the sky, the sea, Patrick’s eyes…

Claire wasn’t sure he was looking out to sea at all. She supposed he didn’t have to, living nearby.

She felt a little calmer now. Not completely calm, but she was managing herself better. The sea was always soothing.

“Know what I’m thinking?” Patrick suddenly whispered in her ear, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. “I think we should make up for lost time.”

Well, Claire spoke too soon. Calm? Pah.

He gestured with his head for her to follow him. Oh, wherever he’s going, she’d go with him.

They got back to the car. “There’s something we should have done a long time ago, Claire.”

Claire was baffled. A long time ago? Before yesterday, she was nothing or less than nothing to Patrick. Such had been the source of near endless angst.

But she got in the car and let him drive. Away from the viewing spots, the beaches, into the bush. An old service road, perhaps. No one here on a public holiday weekend.

“Remember doing this?” Patrick’s face lit up. “It was so much fun… doing something we shouldn’t have been.”

Claire didn’t say anything. She’d been a late bloomer. But she knew others had. Doing things in cars – or showers – was a recent revelation for her. She was much more used to beds.

But how could she say no?

Patrick got out of the car, and pushed his seat all the way forward. Claire followed suit, then followed him to the backseat. Trying and failing to steady her breathing. She couldn’t quite believe this was happening.

He wasted no time. Claire undid her halter, then lay flat on her back, watching Patrick take his shirt off. Trying not to lick her lips. Trying to hold some of that giddiness inside.

Patrick came down on top of her firmly, melding his mouth with hers. She brought both of her hands down to his shorts, trying to time lifting her hips to his thrusts. Each of his movements practised and perfectly timed.

All Claire could feel was lust: the kind of lust that would have made her explode, had she known it when she was younger. She had just one thought in her mind, just barely. She was glad that there’d been no bra under her halter dress.

That thought, or hope of any others, swept away as Patrick moved himself down her body, asking her to move up a bit. With his hands on her hips, he started kissing up her thigh, every millimetre making her wetter and wetter. The anticipation was delicious, almost painful.

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By *naswingdress OP Woman
31 weeks ago

Manchester (she/her)

They moved seamlessly together to get her knickers off. Claire was surprised she was coordinated at all in this moment. Patrick continued his excruciating journey upwards. Taking his sweet time.

She thought he’d got there when he began to kiss around her pussy. Everything in her being was insistent at this moment. Focused on one thing, about which he was procrastinating. This was the most delicious frustration.

“I’m told I’m rather good at this.” Patrick purred, the reverberation of his voice almost hitting the target. “One of the best.”

He finally got there, his lips caressing her skin. Claire hung onto the headrest for dear life.

It was… fine?

Claire’s mind returned to dangerous, unpredictable currents.

This was still… more than she could have hoped for. Wouldn’t have dared to dream of. If you’d asked her back then, this would have been the highlight of her whole life.

And there was more to the act than this. Far more. Her lip quivered as she imagined what it might feel like when Patrick filled her with… fuck. His gold. Like winning at the Olympics.

But her excitement still felt like a balloon, slowly deflating. Not that she dared to show it, in that moment. Not prudent.

She knew how to make the right noises, move in the right ways. If Patrick had a fragile ego, she needed to defend herself. Wouldn’t be the first time she faked it, wouldn’t be the last.

She beamed at him when he rose from between her legs. Then he moved fast.

Before she realised what he was doing, his fingers were inside her. It was a good thing she hadn’t let go of the headrest yet. As he hit the right spot, she nearly launched into orbit. Going from trying to manage her disappointment, to losing her mind with pleasure.

Claire gulped the air. Only thing she could do. Fuck… what just happened there? It reminded her of the very first time a man had brought her to orgasm: eliminating any reality she’d known before that.

Patrick looked pretty pleased with himself. Claire would have, too, if she’d done that to someone.

“Let me…” Claire whispered. “Let me… return…”

She pulled herself up by the headrest she was still holding onto. Hoping her instincts would carry her.

“My turn” she continued.

Her whole body quivered as she let her lips explore him. Feeling his buttocks tense and relax as she found his most sensitive spots. The rippling muscles were enough to drive a woman completely mad. And they were just the starter...

Claire let herself indulge in some of the reflected teenage exhilaration that was flooding her mind. This would have made everything worth it. Oh. My. God.

As her lips worked their way down his torso, she slowly inched her hands upwards. Ever so slightly. Hoping against hope that the transition would be seamless.

Her hands were at his waistline by the time her mouth had run out of room to explore. She had to collect herself, somehow. She wasn’t sure how.

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By *inky grandadMan
31 weeks ago

Spain

👍🔥🔥

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By *wesomeLolaCouple
31 weeks ago

Buckinghamshire and Peterborough

Great writing, obviously from a native Aussie. I used to love the NSW beaches when I was living there. Happy days...

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By *naswingdress OP Woman
30 weeks ago

Manchester (she/her)

Thank you!

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By *iltshirefunmaleMan
30 weeks ago

Devizes

This is such good storytelling

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By *naswingdress OP Woman
30 weeks ago

Manchester (she/her)

As they moved his shorts downwards, Claire could feel the heat radiating from Patrick’s cock. Gold indeed. Jesus Christ. She tried to stop herself from salivating. What a magnificent specimen.

She gently caressed his balls with her free hand, his sharp intake of breath provoking a similar response in her. The way she could turn this man on was incredible. Each movement, twitch, ragged breath sensitised her body to the throbbing desire within her.

There was only one way to know if it was perfect, though. It definitely wasn’t too small. But was it too big for oral to be fun?

Claire wanted to savour every single bit of this, every moment. Her lips met his cock and stayed closed. Feather-light kisses all over the head. She could feel his desire pulsing. And his hands running through her hair.

It would be all too easy to fast forward this. To swallow him whole. He wasn’t the only one whose hunger was being sated here.

She had that one small bit of control left, and she was going to hang on to it.

Eventually she started using her tongue. Tentatively, teasing him. His breathing turned to vocalisations. Deep, guttural, primal. They only further aroused her. Still, not yet. Not yet.

When she could take no more, she began to open her mouth. Taking the tip between her lips, noticing every tiny movement he made. Resisting the urge to masturbate at the same time. Her body cried out for more.

Claire moaned, satisfied, opening her mouth to more. Her voice against his cock made Patrick tip his head back, gasping half words. His grip tightened on her hair. God, he could grab her hair anytime he wanted.

She decided it was time to move further down, when Patrick took what he wanted. He thrust himself upwards, gently pushing her hair down. Claire grunted, then realised how deep she’d gone. Patrick’s vocalisations were deeper, more ragged, less verbal, as she licked his balls, keeping her mouth’s grip around his cock reasonably tight.

She stayed in that position after he let her hair go. Just for long enough to really make his toes curl. Trying not to make her smile too obvious in her mouth’s grip on him.

Yes, this was perfect.

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By (user no longer on site)
30 weeks ago

An extremely enjoyable read so far!

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By *inky grandadMan
30 weeks ago

Spain

👍🔥🔥

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By *naswingdress OP Woman
30 weeks ago

Manchester (she/her)

Even though Claire had been pleasuring him, she still found her breathing to be irregular, when she rose her head. It was all so heady, so unbelievable. She didn’t know how she got here, how this was even possible. How could she possibly have deserved this?

She rarely thought about herself in those terms any more, but sometimes old habits die hard. That everything that had happened to her was her fault, and she could earn better.

Patrick’s leathery hand on her cheek drove her even more wild, if that were possible. She looked up at his flushed face.

“I think it’s time for dessert. I’m looking forward to the view as I take you.” His growl was electrifying.

Claire was completely under his spell.

Claire moved up his body, hurriedly kissing where she remembered he liked it. An afterthought. But she wanted to pay homage to all of him.

Their mouths met again, Claire enjoying the taste of her juices in Patrick’s kiss. Just another thing that was difficult to believe had happened. She wriggled out of the bottom of her dress, as best she could. Clothes were the last thing she needed.

Freed from the dress, she went to climb on top of him. Claire knew what she liked. That was a cock that demanded to be straddled. He’d hit those spots as well as anyone could. And, well… she’d never had any complaints.

Patrick already had the condom in his hand. He’d planned ahead.

“The way your curves would look when I take you from behind, though…” he murmured, almost to himself. Without warning, he raised his hips. With the same fluid movement, he lifted Claire with his arms.

A little too hard.

It took Claire a beat to register the pain. A touch longer to realise she’d hit her head.

The pain sucked all of her desire out of that car.

Patrick looked horrified. “Shit. I forget my own strength sometimes.” He scrambled out of the car, to give her some space. “Are you ok?”

Claire reeled. She really wasn’t sure she was.

“I think… I think I need to lie down.”

Patrick swung into action. His expression flickered slightly, then he immediately switched gears. He helped her sit up, gently moving her hair to one side to see if she was bleeding. She wasn’t.

In any other situation Claire would have been thrilled by this kind of attention, too. Right now, she didn’t care. She took slow, steady breaths, trying to triage the pain.

“I hate to do it” Patrick said, sounding concerned, “but I think we should take a rain check. See if this develops into anything.”

He got out his phone to make a list, muttering things like “ice pack” and “painkillers”. Then he crouched down, tucking her stray hair behind her ear. Resting his hand on her shoulder: strong, capable, supportive. Claire needed someone like that, right now

She was glad Patrick was taking care of her. Though she’d never seen this side of him before. She could barely think of anything. She supposed that later, all of this would be funny. A comedy of errors.

“I’ll get you back to your accommodation. Then – shoot, it’s Sunday – bring you some things from home. Is that ok?”

He gathered her clothes, and talked her through as he helped her get dressed again. Yes, Scott Morrison is the prime minister. Boris Johnson is UK PM. Donald Trump is President. He was careful, quiet, and attentive. Doing what needed to be done.

After she was dressed, he took her hand and led her back to the front of the car. Realised they’d moved the seats. Claire dimly recognised all of this, but only dimly. Knew she’d care later.

“Lean on me. I’ll just be a second” he said, as he opened the door, and bent to adjust the passenger’s seat. He gingerly got himself back up again, careful not to disrupt Claire’s balance. Then guided her to sit back down again.

“Take my water”, he insisted. “Go easy… wait, no, you know that. Sorry.” He stroked her arm.

Before he got into the car himself, he took a clean beach towel out of the back. He rolled it up and signalled for Claire to move her head. “Don’t want you hitting your head on the way back.” Obviously not many of the roads were paved, out here.

They drove back in near silence. Patrick occasionally stroking her hand and telling her she’d be back soon. That he’d help her to bed.

On the radio, Claire vaguely heard her favourite band from when she was a kid. “When We Were Young.”

If she was up to karaoke tonight, that gave her an idea...

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By *inky grandadMan
30 weeks ago

Spain

👍🔥🔥

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By *naswingdress OP Woman
30 weeks ago

Manchester (she/her)

This weekend really hadn’t gone the way Claire had expected. In any way at all.

By the time they got back, she could walk on her own. Just about. She handed Patrick the key to the door, and went to wash her face.

Patrick stepped over the bikini that she’d strategically discarded, earlier. Asked her what she needed.

“Just some cold water on my face right now. Then I might see if I can sleep it off. I don’t think it’s serious. I’m just a bit stuffed at the moment.”

Patrick watched her rinse her face off, then took her hand, and slowly led her to the bed. Pulled back the doona for her.

“I’ll just put some water here for you when you wake up. Mind if I borrow the keys? I’ll come back with some bits in case you need them, then leave you be.”

He moved almost as if to tuck her in. Kissed her on the forehead.

“It’s a shame this didn’t work out. I know how much we were both looking forward to this,” he said softly.

Claire nodded ruefully, half watching him tiptoe out the door, leaving it ever so slightly ajar.

She woke a couple of hours later. Patrick had been back. Next to the water there were a couple of boxes of painkillers, the keys, and a note. He said that he’d put some frozen peas and an old tea towel in the freezer. He also left his phone number, because it’d be an incredible shame not to finish what they’d started…

Claire slowly sat up, reaching for the water and taking stock. Not dizzy, not nauseous. She felt a bit spacey, but that wasn’t surprising.

Was it worth going to the karaoke tonight, though? She’d have to give it some thought.

She pulled the music video up on her phone as she jumped in the shower. Memories came flooding back of going with Nikki to see them live – her first ever concert – near the QVB. Same year she and Lachie had navigated Shakespeare so poorly.

It was getting well into the early evening. Best get a move on, if she was going to go. Let’s see what getting dressed felt like.

She pulled out a navy, bodycon dress. Bubblegum pink lipstick. Hair completely out, with some serum to try to keep it down to a dull roar. Flats though. Just in case.

She replayed the video, singing along with her hairbrush into the mirror. Checking how she felt.

The strongest thing she felt was a recollection of how much she’d always loved that song. Head still fine, still no dizziness or nausea. Thinking clearly.

Yes, the karaoke would be a nice way to cap the weekend off. A communal celebration.

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By *iltshirefunmaleMan
30 weeks ago

Devizes

Unexpected plot twists. Keep writing!

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By *inky grandadMan
30 weeks ago

Spain

👍🔥🔥

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By *naswingdress OP Woman
30 weeks ago

Manchester (she/her)

[Removed by poster at 07/10/25 19:33:23]

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By *naswingdress OP Woman
30 weeks ago

Manchester (she/her)

side note:

I anticipate doing something with names in the next couple of parts that would be considered a party foul on Fab.

In case it's not obvious, not a single one of the names I use in this story have a single solitary relationship to the real people who influence my characters, except in my head.

The party foul, the inspiration will be drawn from a politician who was prominent around the time I knew the person the character was inspired by. Anonymity: we're good.

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By *eroLondonMan
30 weeks ago

Mayfair

"Bookmårkíng. 📚"

•

I'm reading this in chapters. 💌

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By *naswingdress OP Woman
30 weeks ago

Manchester (she/her)

Claire was surprised, looking out the window, to see that the blue sky had gone. Those clouds had rolled in quicker than she’d expected, darker and blacker. Though it didn’t look like it had started raining yet. The RSL was a short walk away, but it was probably worth driving. Just in case.

Particularly as it was already ten past seven!

The hall was surprisingly crowded. Lachlan hadn’t been kidding about this being a bit of a big deal, around here.

She had a word with a member of staff in the hallway, asked if she could be added to the list. They said they’d sort it out. Yes, that song was on the machine.

Claire slipped into the back. One of the only available seats left.

She seemed to have missed the ankle biters. Tillie and some other small children were being shepherded from the stage as she was finding her seat.

Scanning the room, she saw Lachlan’s family. Hard to miss: spilling out over several tables, kids running everywhere. With a jolt, she also registered Patrick. A bit more dressed up than earlier: crisp white shirt, perfectly pressed chinos.

She started to wonder if this was going to be a problem. She hoped not.

Up on the stage they were trying to set something up. A video? It took them a couple of minutes before it started.

Ah. A video call. I think they called it Zoom?

That looked like a nursing home. One like where Grandpa was. A big group of the residents.

Music came on, and they began to sing. Claire, unthinkingly, began to mouth the words. Her heart warmed.

Around the room, as “Morningtown Ride” continued, people gently clapped in time with the beat.

She didn’t expect to be moved tonight. And not just with that one song.

The video feed shook as it moved towards a very elderly man sitting off to one side. The kind who’d probably call even Claire’s Grandpa “son”.

As “Tenterfield Saddler” came on, the whole room fell completely silent, apart from the littlest kids being shushed. The man seemed to struggle through it, and Claire willed him on.

It was tentative, it was wobbly, and it was beautiful. A fitting tribute to forebears in the more remote parts of Australia. Claire wiped away a tear. Had to check to see if her mascara was running.

After that, there was a bit of shuffling around as they moved the screen away. Brought the microphone back.

The mood became much lighter through renditions of “Love is in the Air”, “The Real Thing”, and “Friday on My Mind” (which, the room was reminded, was by the Easybeats, before Bowie sang it).

The brave soul who attempted “Working Class Man” got the backing vocals of the entire room. That wasn’t a song to sing on your own, sober. “You’re the Voice” got a spontaneous call and response.

“And now,” the announcer started, with an edge to his voice that Claire didn’t expect, “that famous Australian, Robbie Williams.”

Again the room plunged into silence, as Patrick strutted onto the stage. A slightly different silence. Claire shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

It was certainly one of the best versions of “Let Me Entertain You” she’d ever seen. Pitch perfect. Confident. Choreographed. Practised.

Maybe unwise, though.

Claire could almost taste the tension that lingered in the air, and didn’t dare clap when Patrick left the stage.

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By *naswingdress OP Woman
30 weeks ago

Manchester (she/her)

note: a reference video might be helpful for the next part. This is the song Claire chooses

https://youtu.be/LGrgPwUIamU

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By *naswingdress OP Woman
30 weeks ago

Manchester (she/her)

Claire couldn’t concentrate. Something had shifted. Those words kept going over in her head. Choreographed. Practised. She completely missed the next few songs.

They had to call for her several times when it was her turn to get up on stage. Her head was spinning.

Shake it off.

One of her first CDs. One of her first true loves in music. Seeing Human Nature in concert with Nikki when they were fifteen had been absolutely exhilarating.

Go back to that time, Claire. Screaming in that mosh pit.

As the intro started, she heard a few chuckles from the older crowd. Bloody millennials, hey.

Claire didn’t care. She was in the zone.

Her cue: “31 seconds, we’re going for auto sequence”

And Claire was off. She could do this in her sleep. The dance and all. Played this song so much she wore out the first CD: and $20 was a lot of money in 1998!

She looked across the whole room, seeing everyone and no one. Just losing herself, reliving the girlish delight of loving a song for the first time. Belting it out with all that glee shining through.

There was one slight problem. One thing she hadn’t thought through. A twinge of anxiety alerted her to it, before she remembered.

Oh dear.

This might have been a mistake.

Australian, check. ARIA hall of fame for over 25 years to the performing arts? Check.

Were Lachlan’s brother and sister sitting right there? … Afraid so.

Avert gaze. Sharpish.

“Don’t worry about your brother, and what he’s going to do” she sang, trying to keep it together.

“No talking about your sister, she’s done it all before” she continued, while trying not to fall through the floor with embarrassment.

Patrick’s family weren’t there. So for that bit of the song, she sang it to Patrick.

Way less weird than…

Nope. Not even going to entertain that, Claire. Put it to one side, finish strong.

She got a decent round of applause. More importantly, she enjoyed herself. Awkwardness to one side, she felt pretty great.

As she walked off the stage, she caught Lachlan’s eye. He was wearing an akubra. Interesting choice.

His eyes lit up, and he held up a bag from the chemist with a goofy grin on his face. Then hurriedly got a lollipop out of it to hand to one of the kids.

That smile made her forget all that awkwardness. They definitely had to get to know each other better.

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By *naswingdress OP Woman
30 weeks ago

Manchester (she/her)

Lachlan's choice for karaoke:

https://youtu.be/OzGhRBWUCcg

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By *naswingdress OP Woman
30 weeks ago

Manchester (she/her)

Despite being a city slicker through and through, these were her people. This was at least one facet of who she was, and who she loved being.

As the next song was being announced, a glass smashed on the ground near the front of the hall. Claire’s eyes shot over there.

The sound that caught her attention wasn’t that interesting. Someone had knocked their drink over and there was clean up to do.

It wasn’t too far from Lachlan’s family.

Lachlan wasn’t at his seat. And both of Lachlan’s parents had their heads in their hands. Like something was terribly wrong. Like they were trying to hold something back.

Huh.

As the music began to play, Claire’s focus turned to the stage. “Crazy”. She loved that song. All about that 80s cheese.

International version. Bit weird that they’d pick that one.

Lachlan was standing up there, and she could see the excitement fizzing out of his expression. And she understood now, the way he was looking at her. He only had eyes for her.

As the introduction continued, he adjusted the akubra. Fidgeting a bit.

When the song started, Claire realised what had been happening. Another thing forgotten from high school, something she couldn’t have heard in the crowd by the sea.

Lachie couldn’t sing. At all.

In fact, he was tone deaf.

Claire tried not to let her expression change. But this was going to be an interesting five minutes or so. Interesting like the purported Chinese curse.

She softly sang along with Lachlan. His voice creaked. It was far and away the worst version of Icehouse she’d ever heard.

You couldn’t tell how bad it was, if you only paid attention to the crowd. But she supposed Lachie had roots on his side: being born here, visiting family here all his life.

It was… godawful would be putting it pretty mildly. Godawful, but so incredibly sweet.

The instrumental bit in the middle started, and Claire beamed at Lachlan.

Then she heard laughter from the audience. Turning her head, she saw that Patrick was guffawing. Not quietly, either. He mouthed “can you believe this guy?” to her.

Claire looked at Patrick in disbelief. Mouthed back “don’t do that” while shaking her head vigorously. As she was at the back of the crowded hall, Lachlan could only see her face if she was looking right at him. Only the big expressions, at the moment.

Patrick was sitting closer to the front. He pointed at Claire, then himself, then the door. An invitation, presumably, to pick up from this afternoon.

That Lachlan did see.

Lachlan’s voice began to falter.

“I’ve got a pocket full of holes”. He managed to get the first bit out at almost speaking volume. Claire had never seen Patrick look so happy.

Her head began to spin, as Lachlan’s voice dropped to a whisper. A memory flooded back, Patrick towering over Lachlan, threatening him. Claire gripping her textbooks and her tunic for dear life. At the time, Lachlan had looked like a gust of wind could snap him.

Lachlan managed to get out “head in the clouds” before Claire’s heart began pounding in her ears. She didn’t hear the next words at all: and not because Lachlan only mouthed “the king of fools”. He was staring at the floor again, anguish sketched across his face.

Claire snapped, leaping out of her seat so fast that it fell backwards. Consumed with fury, she shouted the lyrics, making everyone’s head swivel, as she made her way back to the stage.

She put her arm around Lachlan’s waist and took the microphone from him, glaring at Patrick for one last time.

“Well, you gotta be crazy, baby” she sang, adapting, “to want a girl like me.” She squeezed Lachlan, hopefully encouragingly. “You gotta be out of your mind: crazy!”

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By *naswingdress OP Woman
30 weeks ago

Manchester (she/her)

Claire didn’t remember what happened between then and the end of the song. They got through. Lachie got through. That was the only thing that mattered.

After the song ended, she dragged him out into the hall.

“I was afraid you’d run into him,” Lachlan started.

Claire threw her arms around him and kissed him, taking him by surprise.

“I did. Doesn’t matter. Hasn’t changed at all. Shouldn’t have wanted it then, don’t want it now.” Claire chose her words carefully. She’d tell him soon. After the adrenaline wore off.

“You’ve not changed much either. Don’t care what you say. You were always brave. Brave and,” she chuckled, “bloody stupid. I loved it.” Still wrapping him up in her embrace, she stroked the back of his neck.

“But what were you saying to him? I thought you were agreeing with him.” She could still hear just a little hurt in his voice.

“I was telling him to knock if off. Even if it wasn’t about you, that’s so fucking rude. Who does that?!” As she nuzzled into his neck, she murmured “dingbat.”

He gestured towards the hall. “Do you want to go back?” Claire shook her head. “No, me neither.” He took a big step back from her, held both of her hands, and gave her another goofy grin. “Let’s get out of here.”

It was only then that they noticed that the rain had started. They both started counting between flash and thunder: the storm was very close.

Claire pointed out she’d brought her car. Which was fortunate, because Lachie had come with family. Still, probably better to wait in the entry for a little while. See if the worst would pass over.

“Shit, it’s blowing a gale out there. There’ll be a lot of cleaning up to do tomorrow” he muttered, almost to himself.

The gum trees were rustling and creaking in the wind, and Claire wondered if the power would last the night. The rain came down in sheets. Pretty much no matter how long they waited, they were going to get drenched. It was just a question of when to make a break for it.

“You know we’re going to need another shower, right?” Claire gently jabbed Lachie in the ribs. “Pick up where we left off.”

He bit his lip, and Claire could see him reliving it. Mischievously, she ran her hand down his back, and gently ran her hand over his arse. That elicited a growl from him, a smaller version than the one she’d heard before. No sudden hand movements to the crotch this evening. He didn’t try to hide anything. It was just the two of them there, in that moment. Waiting for the lightning to subside a little, giddy with excitement.

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By *iltshirefunmaleMan
30 weeks ago

Devizes

Great stuff!

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By *oodgreen25Man
30 weeks ago

Gorey

This is such a great story, Jilly Cooper would be proud 👏

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By *naswingdress OP Woman
30 weeks ago

Manchester (she/her)

Side note

I stumbled across this video. Can't tell if it's the venue I went to, but it's certainly the right show: I remember Mike in the pink top 🤭

A flavour of what I saw, near the QVB, with a friend whose name wasn't Nikki

https://youtu.be/KPrUNW66umI?si=ALK6HB_wkrOlD1L0

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By *naswingdress OP Woman
30 weeks ago

Manchester (she/her)

The rain would be pelting all night. Flash flooding not impossible. If they waited for it to stop, they’d be here until morning. It wasn’t ideal, but unless everyone was sleeping on the floor of the RSL, they were going to have to make a run for it.

Claire and Lachie agreed on a number between light and boom. Ten times at that distance. After that, it was as good a time as any.

“Was that ten? I think that was ten.” Lachlan checked, Claire nodded. Stepping out, still under the awning, they steeled themselves for the mad dash. “One, two…”

The air buzzed, and every hair on their bodies was raised. Before they’d even noticed that, though, there was a searing flash of light, and the old gum tree on the other side of the car park exploded, branches flying everywhere.

They’d grabbed each other instinctively. Claire swore.

“Are you ok?” Lachlan squeezed her shoulder. Yeah… she was. She nodded. Bit of a shock, but yeah.

“Well,” he sighed, disentangling himself and switching gears “guess I’d better work out what needs to be done for clean up. See any damaged cars? I’ll make a…”

“NO!”

Oh fuck. Claire knew that voice. Every grounding and cancelled Christmas come at once.

Lachlan had already turned around “What? But, Mum…”

Claire turned around to find Lachlan’s mum standing there, her expression fierce. Frankly, she was looking a little scary. His dad wasn’t far behind. Claire slipped her hand into his, but was otherwise slightly scared to move.

“Are you going to let another opportunity slip you by?” Her voice was a masterclass in barely concealed seething. Claire was as impressed as she was intimidated.

“I… what… the tree… the lightn…” Lachlan faltered again. His mum stomped up to him, jabbed him in the chest, and then stepped back.

“I can’t believe we raised such a drongo. Baz, we raised a drongo.” Lachlan’s dad nodded sagely.

Lachlan spluttered wordlessly. Completely ineffectively.

“I tell you to rack off for a couple of hours this afternoon. Do you do as you’re told? No, you do not. You come back to help.” She threw her hands up in the air. “Why don’t you do as you’re told?”

He tried. He really did “… because I know you want as much…” was as much as he got out, before she raised her hand to stop him.

“I give you time to spend time with this lovely lady. Who – it’s been lovely to finally meet you, dear – you first started wittering on about twenty years ago, so help me God. Flamin’ galah.”

Claire squeezed Lachlan’s hand as he gasped in objection. She was trying to hold back giggles.

“I tell you to rack off, that means you rack off. Do I have to spell it out? If you miss out with her and I have to hear about it for the next twenty years, I’ll tan your hide! Do-you-understand-me?”

Lachlan gestured at the tree, as his mother condescendingly spelled out “rack off” for him. Claire almost lost it. She knew Lachlan could feel her body shake with laughter.

“And another thing,” she finished, menacingly pointing her finger at him. “I don’t want to see your ugly mug again until next Saturday. Understood?”

Lachlan was about to cross his mum about as much as Claire was, in that moment. But he had to object. “But I came up in your car!”

Gesturing dramatically back to her husband, and rolling her eyes, she said “Lachlan. Robert. Carr. You are thirty-four years old. You are not a child. I do not need to solve all your problems for you. Now bugger off.”

Claire squeezed his hand and whispered “I don’t mind being voluntold.”

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By *ou only live onceMan
30 weeks ago

London

Great stuff, Swing...

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By *naswingdress OP Woman
30 weeks ago

Manchester (she/her)

Lightning never strikes in the same place twice, right?

Possibly a myth. But which were they going to risk: the storm, or Lachlan’s mum?

That wasn’t even a question.

Claire pointed out her car. Fortunately, it was free from debris.

Taking their marching orders, they bolted over and got in, quick smart. With a little manoeuvring, Claire found a creative way out of the car park. Once Claire parked again, they got out, closed the car doors with their feet, and ran inside.

Claire nipped to the bathroom to get some towels. Dry off, tell Lachie the truth, then see where things landed.

The whole ugly, sordid, unvarnished truth. She braced herself.

Surprisingly, and fortunately, he mostly just thought it was funny.

“I knew the moment I recognised you, that he’d try to crack onto you. He flits around here lookin’ for prey. Bleedin’ oath, what a saddo. Word gets around.” He grimaced slightly. “And with absolutely no judgement on you today, you’re the easiest target he’s ever had. You hid… nothing at all about your feelings for him, back then.”

Claire cringed. “Yeah. Something about him sucked me right in to all that shit. He must have been beside himself.”

Lachlan gently took her hand. “It’s the only thing I can’t blame him for, going after you.” With his other hand, he stroked the hand he was holding. “Give it a couple o’ weeks, I’ll get messages about you from the RSL gossip mill.”

Claire raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

Lachlan snorted. “Every time something goes to shit, he bitches to everyone and their mum about his mental health. Reckon if women make him so crook, he should lay off, but what do I know?” He chuckled. “Daz also owes me. Bet him $10 he’d do Robbie Williams again.”

Claire laughed. “I’m surprised no one’s laid him flat. I bet he’s talked smack about a lot of locals.”

Rolling his eyes, Lachlan nodded. “Yeah. He’s the only one they tolerate that shit out of. Karaoke, the pub, the works. Better or worse, he’s the only one with a decent practice within 50k of here. So we keep it to ourselves. Wish we could get him a clue-by-four, but, needs must.”

He got his phone out of his pocket, opened Whatsapp, and showed it to Claire. Several local groups, all in the hundreds of new messages. He then shrugged, and put it away. “Before we head off in the morning, I’ll shove his shit in a bag out the front, and ask Mum if she’ll drop it to his office before she leaves. I bet she’s thrilled. Hates him as much as anyone.”

Claire joked “And the rest, you flamin’ galah. Let’s make sure she can’t tan your hide.”

Lachlan’s face turned serious. “Claire, you have no idea how much I want to fuck you absolutely senseless. No idea.” He drew out those last two words, teeth clenched, and Claire could hear the frustration loud and clear. “But I’d rather risk the wrath of my mother and make sure you’re ok, if it’s all the same to you. I can wait at least until morning.”

He shook his head. “I can’t believe he hit your head. What an absolute plonker.”

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By *naswingdress OP Woman
29 weeks ago

Manchester (she/her)

Claire was disappointed, but knew he was right.

“C’mon, let’s go take a shower. Promise I won’t turn the hot water off this time” She stood up, poking her tongue out at him.

“And that was all for nothing,” he tutted. “Oh well.”

When they got to the bathroom, Claire started to unbutton Lachie’s shirt. Truthfully, she wanted to rip it off him, but she didn’t think she’d get what she wanted, tonight.

As she did that, he stroked her hair. He looked content. For the first time since they’d met again. Claire felt content, too, give or take. Other than the fact she had to cool it.

To say that she really didn’t want to… that would be the understatement of the year.

After he helped her out of the dress, Lachie took both of her hands and led her to the shower. As he leaned in and turned it on, he murmured “don’t worry, you’re still mine tonight.”

Damn it. He wasn’t going to make this easy, was he?

Lachlan took her into the shower, wrapped one arm around her from behind, gently holding her against him. He picked up the shampoo and began to wash her hair. As he meticulously rubbed the shampoo over her scalp, Claire finally let her guard down. Fully.

Yes, his erection rubbed up against her. Don’t think about it, Claire. Think unsexy thoughts.

There was another sharp crack, not far away, which made them both jump. The lights flickered ominously. It’d not taken them long to blot the storm from their minds. Modern systems were probably ok to use during an electrical storm? … but it was a little bit foolish, with an unknown setup. Certainly not the time for a drawn out shower.

They hurriedly washed themselves off, that plan ruined for the evening. Claire did her best to squeeze her hair dry: it’d have to do. They resorted to cereal for dinner, and Lachie located the torch and candles the owner had left in the back of a cupboard.

“If this is our first date,” Lachie sighed, his voice a mix of mirth and dejection, “I want another chance. As my mother so *helpfully* gave away earlier, I’ve been dreaming about this for a long time.”

Claire, face resting in her hands, said “I’m sure we could make it better, but you insist on being a wet blanket. I’m fine.” She held the word “fine” in her mouth as long as possible.

She seemed to have provoked him. “Who you calling a wet blanket?!” He stood up. “Right, you, we’re going to bed. No, not like that. As much for the cheek as anything else!”

He walked her over, and turned her to face away from the bed. When he pulled the doona back and gestured for Claire to get in, she pretended to talk back, like a child.

Lachlan narrowed his eyes, took her by the shoulders, and forced her to sit on the bed. He swivelled her legs around, and then climbed on top of her, kneeling.

“Is this the game we’re going to play, Claire?” His eyes twinkled. “Don’t you worry. I’m a very patient man.”

His body was just out of her reach. He laughed as she tried to stretch out to him.

With the light flickering in through the window, he broke the character he was playing. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” his voice quivered. He reached out and stroked her face. “You ever get the feeling like, you can’t quite believe this is happening?” Claire nodded. Yes, she was all too familiar with that.

Relenting just a little, he joined her lying in bed, their faces almost touching. He gently took handfuls of her hair, just behind her head. Taking a few moments to gaze into her eyes. Claire shuffled up a little closer, resting her head on his shoulder.

Before she knew it, she was asleep.

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By *naswingdress OP Woman
29 weeks ago

Manchester (she/her)

Claire woke hazily, finding the doona half pulled back. She thought she could hear the coffee grinder. In the time it took her to remember that Lachie had been there last night, she’d already sat bolt upright, in a panic.

Stupid brain.

She wandered out to the kitchen, to find Lachie in nothing but a large apron, cooking.

“Where’d you get all that?” she asked.

“Shit! Sorry, Claire, did I wake you?” he startled. “Snuck out to get my stuff. Mum could bear to look at me for that long, at least. Gave me a lecture about feeding you properly, what the chooks laid this morning, and some other bits.”

Claire walked up behind him, putting her hands on his shoulders. “It’s a lovely gesture, but I don’t really care about the eggs, Lachie.” She kissed his neck, and smiled when she saw the goosebumps return.

He laughed. “Maybe not. But if you saw the messages going around town… after last night, if I don’t take good care of you, I’ll never be welcome back. Coppers even said that if anyone catches me helping with clean-up, they’ll look the other way if I end up run over.”

Claire raised her eyebrows. “I assume that’s not the policy of New South Wales Police.” She paused. “Is it a mess out there?”

He shrugged, plating up the eggs. “Yeah, it’s not great. Everyone seems to have gotten home alright, but power’s out for most of the bushies. Few really old gums went down. But Mum’ll be first in line to run me over if either of us do anything about it. You heard her last night.” He walked them over to the table, followed by toast, salt, and pepper. “No problems on the Pacific Highway, though. Almost a completely clear run back to Sydney.”

To be fair, the eggs were very good. Lachie didn’t even butcher the coffee, which was moderately impressive. Claire was touched, even though she had other things on her mind.

After Lachlan finished washing up the pans and plates, he asked, innocently, if she’d like another coffee.

“Christ’s sake, Lachie” Claire’s voice was equal parts laughter and exasperation. “I don’t want more fucking coffee. I want you to take that apron off and for us to finish what we started yesterday.”

She stood up. She wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

“Fuck me, Lachlan. Not later. Not after more coffee. Not after washing up. Fuck me right now.”

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By *naswingdress OP Woman
29 weeks ago

Manchester (she/her)

Lachlan smiled, just slightly. “Of course. Where are my manners.”

He pulled the apron off his head and dumped it on the floor. His eyes glittered, as he indicated in the direction of the bedroom with his head.

At the foot of the bed, he took her face into his hands again. Completely unlike that first time yesterday. The kiss started tenderly, but as Claire wrapped her arms around him, it became firmer. More insistent.

He broke away for a moment to throw the doona off the bed. He lay down, Claire joining him. His hands wandered to her shoulder blades and her arse, pushing her against him as their mouths melded.

Then he gently guided her onto her back. Navigated so she couldn’t get hold of his cock. Not yet. He kissed her neck while kneading one of Claire’s nipples between his fingers. Claire’s body lit up, again. She traced up and down the back of his neck, as pleasure began to override her mind. Casually, he traced that hand down her stomach, and just above where she so desperately wanted him to touch her, then traced it back up. Claire gasped. His fingers worked on her other nipple for awhile, before he started to kiss down her torso. Around her pussy, and down her inner thigh.

“Goddamn it, Lachlan,” she moaned.

“Do you want me to stop?” Claire could hear the laughter in his voice. No, she did not want him to fucking stop, and he fucking knew it.

He moved up and nibbled on her nipple. He was determined to take his sweet time with her, wasn’t he? He looked up at her, his teeth hitting that exquisite point between pleasure and pain. His fingers were edging closer and closer to her pussy: she knew that he could feel how wet she was. But he seemed determined to draw this out.

“Please…” it was closer to a breath than even a whisper. “Please.”

He rose from her nipple to look her in the eye. See the way she was panting. He gently pecked her on the lips as he moved his hand downward again. This time, though, he didn’t avoid anything. He shuddered with delight as his fingers slipped between her labia, then kissed her hungrily as he traced his fingers over and around her clitoris.

Fuck, she was close. Her whole body was aflame.

He moved down her body, kissing down her stomach as he went. He took her hips in his hands as he reached his destination. Delicately alternating between using his lips and his tongue. It wasn’t long before she grabbed the sheet near her hands, desperately gasping for air.

Lachlan slowed down for a moment, then went right back to it. After a few more orgasms, slipped a couple of fingers inside her. Gently exploring, to see how she’d react.

At first it just made her hungrier for his cock. But then he found what he was looking for. His lips and tongue still making her helpless with pleasure, his fingers found her g-spot. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head, and all she could do was writhe and moan.

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By (user no longer on site)
29 weeks ago

Amazing writing!

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By *naswingdress OP Woman
29 weeks ago

Manchester (she/her)

"Amazing writing!"

Thank you!

And in the midst of an infuriating day... I wrote more. Bloody Vodafone 😂

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By *naswingdress OP Woman
29 weeks ago

Manchester (she/her)

Claire had no idea how long Lachie kept that up. She didn’t care: she didn’t have the capacity to care.

It was a feeling that would take a long time to get out of her system. She knew that. One of those physical experiences that would send echoes back to her body and mind for at least weeks to come.

After awhile, Lachie moved back up her body, lying next to her as he kissed her again. Claire just let him. She wasn’t capable of much else. Lachlan’s face radiated satisfaction, and sheer delight.

As she started to regain some of her senses, Claire began to reach for Lachie’s cock. He twisted his hips, moving away from her.

“We’ve got all the time in the world for that,” he whispered. “But I don’t fancy it right now.” Claire’s objection was pitiful, but it was all she could manage. She was largely incapacitated, most of her mind still fuzzy beyond the pleasure.

“Later. I promise.” Lachie kissed her on the cheek. “Now, where did I put those condoms…”

He came back just in time for Claire to be more alert. Still blown away, but aware and able to speak.

“Can I please suck your cock?” Claire almost whined. She was still a bit pitiful.

Lachie shook his head firmly. “We’ll find ways. It’s a long drive back home.” His smile contorted, a memory or an idea bringing him amusement. “But I want to fuck you the way I’ve always fantasised about it. If it’s alright by you.” His smile was a little wry. “No pressure, or anything.”

Claire gulped. No pressure, indeed. But alright. She was game.

After putting the condom on, he crawled up the bed, kissing up her body. When he reached her face, he smiled again, an outbreak of pure delight. “Fuck me,” he said, both wistful and in disbelief.

“I’m trying to,” said Claire, giggling, pecking him on the lips.

Then he slid inside her. They both moaned.

Their faces were almost touching. Lachie, despite the concentration and the pleasure, was still studying her, just a little. Claire’s fingers wandered upwards, into his hair. His thrusting was a little unpredictable: she was revelling in the look on his face, as well as the pleasure.

One of the angles he hit was just about perfect. Claire grunted, pleasure soaring. Lachie’s smile broadened, and he repeated what was working. Kissed her hard, just for a moment, then went back to gazing into her eyes.

Claire was losing control again.

She moved her hands down to his back, as she felt the surge approach. Groaned, only partially aware of the sounds she was making. Lachie was undeterred. He looked thrilled.

As the orgasm ripped through her, she made some pretty unladylike noises. She also – as she was sometimes wont to do – pushed Lachie out, her Kegel muscles clamping.

He laughed. “Did you do that on purpose?” Claire shook her head, barely able to hear him. “Do you want me to keep going?” She nodded.

He slipped back inside her. Thrusting harder and faster. Pushing forcefully into her as her pussy clenched with each orgasm. He growled, louder as she came on his cock. His eyes were still glued to hers.

Claire dimly recognised his breathing begin to change.

“Fuck.” he whispered. “Fuck.”

He still manage to wrest a few more orgasms out of her, but it was clear he was approaching a point of no return. Claire, with what little awareness she had, cupped his face in one of her hands. His expression was one of determined concentration. Her orgasms were accelerating.

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By *naswingdress OP Woman
29 weeks ago

Manchester (she/her)

Claire was lost in pleasure. Almost completely lost. But even she could see what was happening: the way Lachie was breathing, the look on his face. She kept her hand on his cheek. Maintained eye contact with him, for as long as he could.

It wasn’t long before he gave way. Leaned his head back, eyes closed, moaning. He then unceremoniously crumpled beside her.

Claire smiled, still panting a bit herself. She ran her fingers through his hair. Waiting for him to come back to earth.

After watching him pant helplessly beside her for a couple of minutes, she kissed him on the cheek. Lachie seemed to slowly become aware, again, that she was there.

“Thank you” he whispered, seeming barely conscious. “Thank you.”

Claire resisted the urge to call him a daft bugger – first apologising for no reason, now thanking her for no reason. Not the time.

Instead she wrapped her arm around him, and drew him close. “We’d better get moving if we’re going to get back to Sydney at a half decent hour,” she said, softly.

She continued to stroke his hair as what she said began to register. As he began to return to the land of the living. Apart from minor inconveniences like work, she’d be happy to stay like this forever.

Lachie pulled his head back slightly to look at her. He smiled, still looking a little dazed. As his awareness began to filter back in, he nodded.

“Right. Home.” He slowly sat up. “We’re going to be together all day today, aren’t we?” he continued, his face lighting up like a Christmas tree.

Chuckling, Claire agreed. “We might even need a few rest stops along the way. Stop, revive, survive, and all of that jazz.”

It was the first, and probably the last, time she’d use the road safety slogan to refer to sex.

They showered quickly, packed everything up, and made up a thermos of coffee for the road. Had a joking argument about whether Claire was up to driving – no, Lachlan was absolutely not driving her car.

Lachie hadn’t been kidding when he’d said the town was a mess. “A few” trees down had been a wild understatement. Claire wondered how on earth they’d kept power through the night. It looked like everyone at the RSL, and then some, were out trying to clean up. She felt slightly guilty.

But they’d had their marching orders.

The road out of town was a bit of a crawl. A lot of the ways were closed off, or narrowed, and there were a lot of people in the road.

As they were waiting at one intersection, another piece of classic 80s cheese came on the radio. Lachie turned it up, wound down the window, and began caterwauling to all and sundry.

“If I could write, I’d write a book for you, a tale of hidden treasures with an IOU…”

It seemed that he’d exceeded the limits of local charity.

“If you could sing, Lachie, you might save our ears. Stone the crows” a man shouted from behind the fallen tree.

“Seem to have done alright out of it, Daz, nah yeah?” Lachie shot right back, grinning like an idiot.

Fortunately for the hearing of the town, they were on the highway soon enough. And he’d only really done it for their benefit.

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By *naswingdress OP Woman
29 weeks ago

Manchester (she/her)

The Pacific Highway was both a blessing and a curse. A blessing, because it made the path up and down the coast much easier than it used to be. A curse, because so many small towns were being left behind.

Claire had stopped pretty randomly on the way up. It was a means to an end. Lachie, unsurprisingly, had some pretty strong opinions. The best Greek milk bars, the bakeries, the dunnies that wouldn’t make you lose the will to live.

They had a dilemma, of course.

Do you stop at the good places? It was Australia Day: they’d be crowded with people doing just as they were, driving from seeing family or going on holiday. Or do you go somewhere a bit less desirable, and a whole lot more quiet?

Lachie convinced Claire to stop at a medium sized beach town, for their first stop. Clearly one of the desirable joints: the bogs weren’t even whiffy. They grabbed ice coffees and walked up to the end of the peninsula. The storm had clearly come down this far – the air always felt cleaner in the day or so afterward – although Claire couldn’t see any damage. But it was when they got to the very edge of the peninsula, that she realised why Lachie had brought her here. The views were almost entirely panoramic – and you didn’t have to climb up to a platform, unlike at the cape. Claire vaguely wondered about what it would be like, being out on one of those little pleasure vessels, out on the Tasman.

The town was reasonably crowded with fellow travellers. But all the way up here, you couldn’t hear much more than the roar and crash of the surf.

Lachie, from behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his head on her shoulder. He sighed contentedly.

“I know you already think I’ve got roos loose in the top paddock, probably, but after that Romeo debacle, I came up here and cried. I wish I could give that idiot boy a hug. Tell him she’d be right.”

Claire stroked his arm. “I think we were our own worst enemies, back then. I hope you can give yourself grace. I’m not great at it.”

Lachie kissed her neck. “I’d just buried it. Life moves on, yeah? But – as magnificent as it always is, up here – it makes it all better, being here with you now.”

Claire disentangled herself and turned around, so she could look Lachie in the eye. “I think we were too busy being the stars in our own stories, to really see each other. That’s what I’ve learned.” Lachie nodded. “And that we were already fine, just the way we were. Except…” she paused, grinning, “maybe your singing.” Lachie laughed.

“Infatuation makes you do stupid things, doesn’t it?”

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By *naswingdress OP Woman
28 weeks ago

Manchester (she/her)

In the car, they debated whether to stop at Port Macquarie or not.

On the one hand, the facilities would be excellent, and everything would be open. On the other hand, it’d be heaving with people.

If she’d been on her own, Port Macquarie definitely would have been Claire’s safe option. But Lachie dismissed it. He had a better idea.

They stopped at a larger town, a bit further inland. He had a very specific bakery in mind – best lamingtons this side of Coolongatta, although that’s not what he was buying today. He left the car with an Esky and an insulated bag, and wouldn’t let Claire look inside it. Apart from the bakery, this was a quick dunny stop.

“I’m not driving another two hours yet, Lachie,” Claire was a bit concerned. “I need a proper break.”

Lachie pretended to be wounded. “Do you trust me or not? Twenty minutes more, then we’ll stop for awhile. Use the loo: next stop, might be snakes.”

Of course Claire trusted him.

They drove even further inland. A bit of a detour, then. Gum trees stretching as far as the eye could see, from every side. Claire wasn’t even sure there would be a toilet around here.

“This is the spot. Right here.” Claire’s confusion must have been written all over her face. “There’s one of those hippy dippy wilderness retreats about 10k that way,” he pointed, “but no one comes out this far. It’s still their land. There is a dunny, but it’s a can: you’d have to be pretty desperate.”

Lachie’s face was a mixture of lust and mischief. He leaned over the gear stick and kissed her.

“There’s only so much I want to control myself, if I don’t have to. But first, let’s eat before the food gets soggy.”

He pulled out the insulated bag, and, within it, meat pies. Hand made that morning, apparently. It showed. Given how amazing the pies were, Claire was almost disappointed that Lachie hadn’t bought their famous lamingtons.

Maybe next time. Claire was pretty hopeful there’d be a next time.

But there were more important matters to attend to. Claire had an unwelcome flashback from yesterday, and quickly dismissed it.

She crooned “heaven’s in the backseat of my Cadillac” as she got out of the car, and gestured that Lachie do the same. The rustling gum leaves were the only other sound other than the calls of rosellas and kookaburras

Claire put on a mockingly stern voice. “This time, Lachlan, I’m going to have my way.”

He didn’t look like he was going to object, as they positioned themselves in the back.

Claire left the door on her side open so she had a little more room to move. As Lachie leaned back towards the other door, she sat on top of him, best as she could. She took a moment to look at the delight and hunger in his eyes – it was so gratifying the way he looked at her. She hoped he saw the same in her own eyes.

She didn’t hang around. She went straight to his belt buckle, and got his jeans off. He was just beginning to stir. Perfect.

Lachie gasped as Claire’s tongue first made contact, and hardened quickly. Claire slowly explored, listening to his breathing, experimenting with her tongue, her lips, and her fingers. He gripped the seat with one hand, and caressed her ear and hair with the other.

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By (user no longer on site)
28 weeks ago

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By *eroLondonMan
28 weeks ago

Mayfair

I'm still reading this. Please, no spoilers. 🔥

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By *naswingdress OP Woman
28 weeks ago

Manchester (she/her)

"I'm still reading this. Please, no spoilers. 🔥"

It's gonna rain ☔

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By *eejay2015Woman
28 weeks ago

somewhere in Buckinghamshire

Great story, im totally engrossed.

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By *atriotsMan
28 weeks ago

Huddersfield

Love it

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By *naswingdress OP Woman
28 weeks ago

Manchester (she/her)

Thank you. Backlog at work then I'll keep writing 😂

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By *inaTitzTV/TS
28 weeks ago

Titz Towers, North Notts

Very good prose

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By *naswingdress OP Woman
28 weeks ago

Manchester (she/her)

There was something slightly funny about giving a blowjob in the middle of the bush, with little more than the kookaburras laughing in the background. Something to reflect upon later, Claire supposed.

But she really needed a drink. She shuffled up, and reached for the Esky. Lachie was clearly paying attention – she didn’t expect him to be. He put out his hand to stop her.

“Oi, that’s thirsty work, you ungrateful bastard.” Claire was only half joking. “You going to let me have a drink or what?”

Lachie was panting. “No… no. Let me. Please.” He pulled himself up and started reaching for the Esky himself.

He got some bottles out of the Esky, furtively, and quickly closed the lid. The kookaburras laughing made more sense, in this moment.

Claire put it to one side. The weirdness could wait. She chugged half the bottle, almost in one go. “So, what gives? You got the Ashes stashed in the Esky or something?”

He’d just about got his breath back. “No. Not the Ashes. Just a little surprise.” He smiled to himself, before kissing her. “First, I want to fuck you again.”

Claire didn’t have any serious complaints about that. No serious complaints. “You not enjoying the blowjob?” She feigned hurt.

“You know the answer to that,” he chuckled. “I like fucking you even more, though.” He got out of the car, took all of his clothes off, and tossed them on the passenger’s seat. Responding to Claire’s raised eyebrow, he continued “No bugger is coming out here, particularly not on a public holiday.” Gesturing at her, he said “And now you’re the one who’s overdressed.” Claire accepted the implicit dare, and her clothes ended up in a pile on the driver’s seat.

Walking around to her side of the car, Lachie grabbed her breasts from behind and ground his erection into her. “So. I chose last time. Position: any preferences?” He then nibbled her ear, and gently rolled her nipples between his fingers.

Claire, between moans, asked him to let her ride him. She pushed the passenger’s seat forward to give them a little more room, as Lachie got the condom on and got back into the car.

Kneeling on top of him, and sweeping her hair out of the way, she took his face into her hands. Revelling in him, exactly as he was right there, and not in relation to some hope she’d had as a kid. Just for a moment.

“There’d better not bloody be anyone out here, Lachie, because if this was anything like this morning, I might make a bit of a racket.”

He turned his head to one side, and kissed her hand.

“I hope so.”

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By *eadMeisterMan
28 weeks ago

near you...

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By *iltshirefunmaleMan
28 weeks ago

Devizes

Great stuff!

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By *naswingdress OP Woman
28 weeks ago

Manchester (she/her)

Claire lowered herself onto him, sighing with satisfaction. Lachie grabbed her hips, thrusting as she moved up and down. His eyes lit up as he watched her expression.

“God, this feels good”, she whispered. She moved her hands down towards his shoulders, leaned down, and kissed him. Settling into a rhythm, she focused on their intertwined tongues and his breath on her face. Augmenting the building pleasure.

Lachie began shifting his position slightly. Guiding her hips with his hands. Claire gasped as he hit a sensitive spot. Lachie purred with satisfaction, and, moving his hands up to the middle of her back, started thrusting harder. Breaking away from the kiss.

“Can’t push me out from this angle” he murmured, concentrating. Claire agreed, barely verbally. Speaking was becoming a struggle again.

“Soon,” she whispered. She had to force the word out. “Soon.” She could feel it coming.

She moaned as she clamped down hard. Lachie seemed more determined, pushing hard against her. Mid orgasm, he hit the same spot, and her body started approaching the precipice again.

She cried out. Seeing concern flash across Lachie’s face, she forced out a couple of more words. “More… again.”

Lachie’s arms steadying her, Claire’s orgasms compounded upon each other, rolling through her. Struggling to stay upright, she gripped his shoulders for dear life.

Still moving inside her, Lachie took one of his hands and gently caressed up her back. Claire whimpered, her skin breaking out in goosebumps. Every nerve ending was so sensitised that the touch was almost painful.

Claire noticed Lachie gritting his teeth. Fighting through the orgasmic haze, she asked if he was ok.

“Perfect.” His jaw clenched. “Just want to last a little longer.” Claire came again, and his gasp was drowned out by her cry. “You’re not making it easy.” While she appreciated his efforts, Claire hoped he was enjoying this as much as she was.

He tightened his grip around her back, their bodies coming closer together. His movements slowed, more grind than thrust, as he traced down her neck with his lips. Every touch, in this state, was electrifying. Claire’s body responded forcefully even to that. As she clamped down, Lachie began to pant.

“Not yet…” His determined whisper was barely audible. “Not yet.”

Secure in Lachie’s arms, Claire caressed him from his ear to his shoulder. With that touch, his breath became much more ragged. He swore under his breath.

Claire grabbed the head rest behind him. She ground her hips into him, hoping to accentuate his pleasure as much as her own. She could see the last scraps of control slipping from his fingers.

As her body jolted with an orgasm, Lachie sunk his nails into her, shuddering breathing giving way to a cry of his own. With what seemed like the last conscious effort he had left in him, he lifted one arm up to the back of Claire’s neck, reached up, and kissed her.

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By (user no longer on site)
28 weeks ago

🔥

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By *naswingdress OP Woman
27 weeks ago

Manchester (she/her)

Claire carefully climbed off Lachie, coming to sit next to him. She’d need her clothes sooner rather than later, she noted, as her skin began to prickle from the heat. But there was time to just be here, enjoying this moment.

She rested her head on his shoulder and wrapped her arm around his waist. “Any good?” she murmured. Lachie registered his assent, although words weren’t coming to him yet. Playfully, she took her free hand and stroked his nipple, while kissing his neck. The rash of goosebumps confirmed that Lachie was still coming down from that high.

After a few minutes, she got her top from the front seat. As she was going to put it on, Lachie seemed to come to. He reached out to stop her.

“What’s up with you?” Claire laughed. “I don’t want to burn my tits.”

His eyes twinkled. “I need those tits a bit more accessible for my pièce de résistance.” He opened the Esky, and got out some drinks for both of them. After taking a couple of swigs, he went back to the Esky, and took out two items wrapped in brown paper bags. The way Lachie was holding them, they almost looked like a pair of breasts.

Not lamingtons, then.

Lachie handed her one of the bags, before stepping out of the car. Claire unwrapped it to find one of the biggest cream buns she’d ever seen in her life, powdered sugar escaping all over her. Lachie, having found her stash of baby wipes in the glove box, returned to where he’d been.

She wasn’t sure how a cream bun – no matter how fabulous – could top what just happened. But she wasn’t going to ruin his big reveal just yet. This was clearly important to Lachie, given the way he’d guarded it.

He chuckled softly. “Don’t worry, Claire, I’m happy to vacuum your car after making this mess.”

He gestured to her to go ahead, and then they both bit into the buns. As predicted, the powdered sugar situation got a whole lot worse. Lachie emerged from the bun, the strawberry jam and cream all over his face like yesterday’s zinc. Claire could feel it on her own face, too, but couldn’t hold back the laughter when she saw Lachie’s face.

“But how is this going to top … oi!” Lachie had interrupted her question, taking a large blob of cream from his bun, and smearing it on her breast. “Bloody… daft… dickhead… drongo!” She got the words out between giggles. Giggles which turned into gasps as Lachie began licking the cream off.

Lachie looked up, his smile slightly smug. “Daft I’ll own,” he murmured, before returning his gaze to Claire’s breasts. “Seems the cream on my face has smeared everywhere, too. I may be some time.”

He then scooped some more cream out of his bun, and dolloped it onto Claire’s other breast. “Oops. How clumsy of me.”

Claire’s hands had moved up into Lachie’s hair, and she ruffled it. “You, sir, are *mental*.”

Claire could feel Lachie’s facial muscles moving up into a smile. “Oh, I’m fully aware.” His lips millimetres from her nipple, she could feel his words reverberate against her skin.

He spent quite some time lavishing attention on her breasts, taking Claire surprisingly close to the place where she was a non-verbal, quivering mess again.

After he’d had enough of that, and they finished their buns, Lachie took the baby wipes and tenderly wiped her down.

“This is all that I hoped it would be,” he sighed. “All I hoped, and more.”

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By *naswingdress OP Woman
27 weeks ago

Manchester (she/her)

[Removed by poster at 27/10/25 22:39:01]

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By *naswingdress OP Woman
27 weeks ago

Manchester (she/her)

Claire didn’t even ask if Lachie thought Newcastle was a good place to stop. She knew what he’d say. And so far, his picks had been far better than where she would have gone.

After avoiding the big smoke, Lachie directed Claire back towards the coast. He confirmed that yes, he was pointing her towards that beach up ahead.

The surf looked even rougher down here, particularly up against the cliffs on the south side of the beach. Claire was astonished to see spear fishermen, looking miniscule compared to both the weathered cliffs and the waves smashing against them. She wondered if she’d ever have the nerve: the vulnerability of the position they were in made her shiver.

Lachie suggested a picnic table just beyond the dunes, and went to get them another drink. The beach was crowded, but Claire barely noticed. She couldn’t stop staring at the cliffs, the patterns in the rock being etched by the ebb and flow of the tides over tens of thousands of years. Wearing away gradually, or sometimes, as today, a bit more violently.

She felt a hand on her shoulder.

“Penny for your thoughts?” asked Lachie, as he sat down next to her.

Claire smiled. “Wishing I’d paid more attention in geology. Nothing important.”

Fatigue suddenly seeped into her mind, apparently from nowhere. She put her arm around Lachie and rested her head on his shoulder. Wordlessly, he wrapped her up in his arms and just held her tight. They watched the surf together in comfortable silence.

They were rudely interrupted by a stray tennis ball: someone a bit too enthusiastic with the beach cricket. Claire, instinctively putting her hands in front of her face, caught the ball. Unthinkingly, and breaking their embrace, she lobbed the ball at the yellow plastic wicket.

“Sorry,” Claire chuckled. “Me and my mindless habits, eh?”

Lachie ruffled her hair. “I’m quite grateful for your mindless habits. You know I never would have said a word, right?”

The notion saddened Claire. “I don’t see why you couldn’t have. I’m not all that. Besides, even when we first met on Saturday, I already thought you were hot.” She kissed his shoulder. “Daft git.”

Lachie turned towards her, and stroked her hair. “I don’t think you’re lying, but I don’t quite believe that yet. I need to let it seep into my thick skull.” He pressed his nose against hers. “I’m so glad I found you again.” Claire smiled, and wrapped her arms around him.

“I’ve got a very important question for you, though, Lachie.”

Lachie seemed to miss the mischief in her tone, and sounded a little worried. “Oh? What’s wrong?”

She leaned back so she could see his face more clearly. “What’s the plan after we get home? We going to your place, or mine?”

Claire could hear the relief in Lachie’s laughter, before he pulled her close again, kissing her hungrily.

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By *naswingdress OP Woman
27 weeks ago

Manchester (she/her)

As the traffic ground to a halt outside of Gosford – typical – Claire and Lachie got back into the small talk. All the things that had largely been overlooked that weekend. They’d barely had the time or the space to think about the future.

Was there a future, here?

It hadn’t been what Claire was looking for. She’d just wanted to go jump in the surf and drink that ridiculous concoction while her mother wasn’t looking. She hadn’t been prepared for her past finding her, when she went looking for her past.

Claire marvelled to herself, listening to Lachie speak. He was animated, unselfconscious, and confident. She could see how passionate he was about his work and his community: unlike some people, his eyes didn’t only light up with lust.

There was no rush to make any decisions. Right now, things were wonderful.

Getting to Berowra broke her out of this contentment, just slightly. They still hadn’t decided where they were going. Too busy talking about other things; thinking about other things.

“Hey Lachie,” Claire interrupted him, “we’d better start thinking practically. Where are we going? You got any food in?”

The conversation turned to immediate concerns. In the end, access to public transport won out: driving into Sydney on the 27th of January was never fun. They’d scrounge something from their freezers.

As they turned up Boundary Road, Claire turned the sat nav off. Lachie directed her into a leafy cul-de-sac, and up to his house. He dug through his stuff, keeping some of it in the car. Then he took the rest into the house, refusing Claire’s help, and coming back out with a small bag of what looked like clothes.

It wasn’t long – down Boundary Road, up Pennant Hills Road – until they’d got to Claire’s house. As Lachie got out of the car, he went to start bringing things in.

“Where do you think you’re going, Lachie?” Claire asked. She was sure he wouldn’t miss the laughter in her voice, this time. He tilted his head, looking confused.

“I don’t know about you, but I reckon there’s something far more important we need to do before we worry about all of that crap. C’mon.”

He got the hint before they reached the bedroom. Claire was the height of subtlety, leaving her clothes in a trail behind her.

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By *ex HolesMan
27 weeks ago

Up North

TLDR

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By (user no longer on site)
27 weeks ago

Fantastic writing

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By *octor ProdMan
27 weeks ago

Constantly Travelling With Work

"TLDR"

You prefer something you can follow with your finger to help you form the words; Janet and John, or Biff and Chip

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By (user no longer on site)
27 weeks ago

"TLDR

You prefer something you can follow with your finger to help you form the words; Janet and John, or Biff and Chip "

Or something he can colour in with crayons maybe

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By *octor ProdMan
27 weeks ago

Constantly Travelling With Work

"TLDR

You prefer something you can follow with your finger to help you form the words; Janet and John, or Biff and Chip

Or something he can colour in with crayons maybe "

If of course, he hasn't eaten them. He sounds the type to have a favourite flavor crayon

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By *dam1971Man
27 weeks ago

Bedford

Fantastic writing, I was right there with them!

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By *naswingdress OP Woman
27 weeks ago

Manchester (she/her)

Lachie lay next to her, their noses touching: Claire needed to dig out another pillow from storage.

Suddenly, this all felt so much more real again. It all kept becoming more real.

This weekend, she’d felt drawn into the current, tossed to and fro, almost beyond her control. Claire had returned to the world she knew: the normal grind of the year about to begin again. And Lachie was here. In her bed.

Lachie, seeming to sense the sudden shift in mood, stroked her cheek. “Anything wrong?”

Claire shook her head. “This is incredible. It’s wonderful. And it’s a lot,” she paused, “in the best possible way.” She cursed herself internally. “Sorry. I killed the mood, didn’t I?”

Lachie leaned his head back, so he could look at her properly. “A little. But I get it. Come here, you daft bugger.” He pulled Claire closer, and she buried her face into his chest.

Claire was just beginning to think that she could stay like this forever.

And then Lachie’s phone rang. He sighed, apologising as he went to find it. Shaking his head, he answered.

Claire only heard one side of the conversation. “Yeah, fine… Back in Sydney… Leftovers, I reckon… No, that’s alright… No, I’m not sulking… Mum, I’m busy, I’ll talk to you later.”

Seeing her raised eyebrow, he tutted. “If I could be in Sydney five whole minutes, before everyone in town finds out I’ve come to yours…” He chuckled, in spite of himself. “Although I bet the fogeys are placing bets on whether we split up before or after Newcastle. Got to keep themselves occupied somehow.”

Claire snorted. “Small town gossip, eh?”

Shrugging, Lachie got back into bed with her, running his hands down her neck.

“Christ, Claire, who nicked your shoulders and replaced them with granite?” He gently pushed her onto her front. “Let’s do something about that, yeah? … you got any oil I can use?”

Claire, suppressing the thought of baby oil from her mind, started to get up. Lachie pushed her back onto the bed, and told her she wasn’t moving. With some direction, he managed to find the coconut oil and a ramekin to put it in.

He traced his fingers down her back, before warming her skin. With clearly practised hands, he began to break down the tension Claire always held in her shoulders.

As she found herself melting even further into the bed, Claire hoped that Lachie wouldn’t notice that she’d started to drool on her pillow. It was a compliment, for sure, but perhaps it was too much information at this stage.

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By *iltshirefunmaleMan
26 weeks ago

Devizes

Who wouldn't want a massage so good it makes you drool? Excellent stuff.

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By *naswingdress OP Woman
26 weeks ago

Manchester (she/her)

No update at the moment - stupidly busy - but I'm beginning to think about the sequel. Although I think I'd better give this poor town a name 🤭

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By *naswingdress OP Woman
26 weeks ago

Manchester (she/her)

Lachie and Claire lay together, content. That is, until they noticed that the light outside was beginning to dim: presumably another front coming in from the west. They hurriedly dressed, brought everything in, then began to consider dinner.

The array of leftovers wasn’t ideal, but it was a bit better than last night’s cereal. Claire resisted the urge to remind Lachie about what he’d said: about higher expectations for a first date. Would any gesture, no matter how much he’d fantasised about it, impress her more than she already was?

It didn’t seem likely. He was enough, just as he was.

So was she.

Lachie’s phone beeped, breaking her from her train of thought. He smiled wryly at the screen, putting it down without replying.

“Now… where were we?” Turning to her, Lachie took her hand, beginning to lead her from the table. “I know there’s one more thing I need to do tonight.” Lachie’s hunger for her was palpable, and Claire felt her body begin to respond.

After they’d undressed each other, Lachie gathered Claire’s hair in his hand. “My turn to choose,” he whispered, kissing her. “How do you feel about doggy?”

Claire agreed, and positioned herself on the bed. No need for foreplay, tonight. As Lachie put a condom on, Claire found herself glad that her bed was relatively new. They might be testing its strength.

He slid inside her with no fanfare, firmly grabbing her hips, and beginning to find a rhythm. As they warmed up, Claire idly wished for a mirror in front of her: watching Lachie’s face as they fucked had been incredibly rewarding.

She tried to match his rhythm, grinding against him at the end of each thrust.

“Now, where’s that spot” Lachie whispered, almost to himself. Claire bit her lip and tried not to laugh. He had an MO. Nothing wrong with that.

He found it soon enough. Claire’s inner chatter quietened as the pleasure began to take over.

Then Lachie’s phone began to ring. Apart from murmuring “not now”, Lachie acted as though he hadn’t heard it. At the same time, Claire stopped trying to match his rhythm as she lost control. He moved his hands from her hips to her shoulders, speeding up his thrusting.

Within a split second of her first orgasm, Lachie thrust forcefully back inside her: to counteract her usual trick, presumably. Claire panted, and felt the pleasure begin to rise again.

Lachie’s phone rang again. “Christ almighty,” he murmured, otherwise ignoring it. He looped Claire’s hair around his hand and gently pulled her head upwards, barely missing a beat. His other hand remained gripping her shoulder.

Claire was on the cusp of another orgasm, when Lachie’s phone rang for a third time. She could tell that it was putting Lachie off: his thrusts were becoming more erratic, and were less targeted than they had been.

She forced the question out. “Should you… get that? Maybe it’s important?”

Lachie sighed. “Bloody phones are a curse. Hopefully I won’t be long.” Pulling out, he patted Claire’s bum and went to answer it.

“Hi, what’s the emergency? … You’re bombarding my phone… I said I was fine… At my house? … Mum, why? I said I was fine?”

Claire was still on her hands and knees, and was trying not to laugh again.

“No, I never said I was at home… Didn’t you say you didn’t want to see my ugly mug?”

Claire knew there was only one way to end this.

“Mrs Carr, he’s with me. We’re busy at the moment.” Claire spoke loudly, ignoring Lachie’s horrified face.

He hung up the phone, shaking his head. “Half the RSL will know in five minutes. You know that, right?”

Claire laughed. “I’ve got rellies like that. They won’t give up until they get what they want. Besides, I’m hoping we’ll become old news.”

Lachie gently smacked her. “I guess you’re right.” He went through his pockets, looking for a fresh condom. “Now, before we were so rudely interrupted, there was something I was doing...”

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By *naswingdress OP Woman
25 weeks ago

Manchester (she/her)

Claire had to do a double take when she woke up in the morning. Yes, Lachie was next to her. Not up the coast. In her bed. He murmured groggily as the alarm beeped, wrapping his arm around her.

Her heart swelled as she snuggled into him. She could get used to this.

Over coffee, they discussed the day that lay ahead. Looking out the window, Claire offered Lachie one of her umbrellas: the clouds were almost black.

Sadly, they had to dismiss the chance of seeing each other for lunch: too many meetings. Companies making up for the long weekend.

As Claire loaded the dishwasher, Lachie’s phone beeped. Reading the message, he grumbled, barely audibly, and grimaced.

“What’s the matter?” Claire asked.

“She won’t leave well enough alone.” Lachie replied. “She thinks my biggest priority right now is presenting you to the family and scaring you off.”

Claire scoffed. “I’ve met your family. They don’t scare me.”

“Oh no. You don’t understand.” Lachie’s tone seemed serious, but his eyes twinkled with mischief. “She’s trying to summon us to a capital-f capital-d Family Dinner. We haven’t even had a first date yet, and she wants the committee to vote on whether you’re worthy to date me.”

Ah. Claire knew all about that kind of ‘family dinner’. “We still doing a first date, then? Hasn’t that horse bolted?”

The mischief disappeared from Lachie’s eyes. “Humour me, Claire. I know I’m a daft, sentimental bastard. But I really want to do this. It matters to me.”

Claire had no objections. “OK. Let’s arrange something. How long can you put your mother off?”

Lachie smiled. “Two weeks? Maybe three – I can probably argue that I want Valentine’s Day to myself. Not long, though. I think she wants to keep you.”

“Keep me?! I wasn’t sure she got a vote in that.” Claire chuckled.

“She doesn’t. But I’m not telling her that. She can require a bit of managing.” Lachie’s phone beeped again. “Oh for the love of…”

“Do I even want to know?” Claire asked.

“Let the managing commence,” Lachie sighed. “I’m not sure if she’s got roos loose, or she really likes you. She’s talking about rings. It’s been three days, Mum. Three days!” He sounded exasperated. “She’s crackers. I didn’t think she meant *that* kind of family meeting.”

Claire smiled. Premature, certainly. Far too soon to know.

“For now,” Lachie said “let’s think as far as dinner. Work’s near the Coles on York Street. I’m getting groceries if I’m staying here. What do you fancy?”

Outside, there was an ominous rumbling.

“Hold that thought, Lachie. Station is ten minutes walk. Want to head off before the heavens open again?” she asked.

They made it, barely. Running onto the train that was just about to leave, they claimed a two-seater downstairs.

Claire rested her head on Lachie’s shoulder as the train pulled away. Oblivious to everything around her except the warmth from his body, and the relentless drum beat of the summer rain.

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By *eroLondonMan
25 weeks ago

Mayfair

Bump.

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By *mw562Man
24 weeks ago

didsbury

Looking a little careworn in places myself - but not overly so. A devil to respond to, perhaps only those trying, the literate or the depraved would dig so deep. You get to choose which, alongside some of my own writing perhaps. Mutual musettes ? X hope you're well.

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By *cottish guy 555Man
21 weeks ago

London

You write incredibly well.

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By *d mirerMan
21 weeks ago

lost

"👍🔥🔥"

Bookmarking

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By *d mirerMan
21 weeks ago

lost

Thoroughly enjoyed this story Swing 👏👏👏

Glad it played out how it did , and that Patrick the prick (the name I mentally adopted ) lost the girl .

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By *naswingdress OP Woman
20 weeks ago

Manchester (she/her)

I almost forgot.

Happy birthday Lachie 🥰

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By *naswingdress OP Woman
14 weeks ago

Manchester (she/her)

Bumped because it's Australia Day today

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By *andymank8Man
12 weeks ago

Reigate

You write so well, my first girlfriend was named Claire, your writing brought back many happy memories, thanks! Xx

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By *naswingdress OP Woman
12 weeks ago

Manchester (she/her)

Thank you, I appreciate it!

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By *eetTheRichardsonsCouple
9 weeks ago

Near Harrogate

Loving this xx

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By *eelingAdventurousMan
2 weeks ago

Cannock

Hi Swing, amazing writing. Very evocative, excellent detail and yet with a light touch. Excellent work, I’ll keep an eye out for more of your writing in the future. Best wishes

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By *eroLondonMan
2 weeks ago

Mayfair

🩶

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