We lay embraced for some minutes, not speaking, both staring at the ceiling, lost in thought. My hand was still rested on his balls and cock, as though shielding them, and his fingers played with my nipple.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked. "You don't even know me."

"Because I want to. Because I chose to. No more than that."

There were a thousand reasons more than that, but they were mine, and mine only.

"D'you do this often?"

"I could take offence at that, Simon, but given the circumstances it's probably a fair question. No, I don't, actually. So think yourself honoured."

"I do. And blessed."

"Well, you're blessed with a very nice cock, I'll say that." I began to roll my palm over his shaft, feeling the first stirrings of a new erection. I squeezed it encouragingly and nuzzled against his chest. His skin was soft and pale, with the merest tufts of hair on his breast bone and beneath his belly button. He wasn't fat, but neither was he well-conditioned. Just right, I'd say - I have no time for muscled, mirror-loving preen-boys. There's only room for one narcissist in my bed...

"Did you like what I did the other night?" He nodded. "Did you imagine me doing this to you?"

"Only as a fantasy. Never thought it would happen."

"So you've fantasised about me, huh? What, since the other night?"

"Oh yeah." He sounded almost apologetic.

"And did you wank the other night, when you were watching?" He made no reply and I looked up to see embarrassment in his face. "It's okay, nothing to be ashamed of. That's what you were supposed to be doing."

"Yes," he said, his voice shallow, and I felt his erection grow in my hand.

"Tell me," I whispered, drawing my mouth to his ear. "Tell me what you did. Please."

He stiffened further and I felt him swallow. "I watched you play with yourself and I wanked. I stripped off my clothes and sat in front of the screen. All day, since I saw you in the shop, I'd been hoping that something like this would happen, and when it did I couldn't believe it. It was incredibly exciting. I took my cock in my hands. It was really stiff, stiffer than it's been in years, just from watching you."

By now he was completely hard again, the ordeal of describing and explaining his behaviour the other night clearly proving a strong turn-on for him. And it was for me, too. There was a strange atmosphere: it was as though the tables had been turned, as though the voyeur was now exposing himself to the woman he had watched previously. Now it was I who was the voyeur, peering into his mind.

"Go on," I said. "When did you come? What was I doing?"

"You had the small dildo in your arse and the big one in your pussy. You were facing away, so I could see you from behind. You were rested against the back of the chair so that you could move both dildos at once. I could see the gleam of your juices on the big one. The little one was sliding deeper and deeper up your arse all the time, until you were holding it by the tip only. You seemed to love that bit. You arched your back and thrust your bum towards the camera. That's when I came."

"And did you imagine your cock inside me?" I raised myself and slid my leg over his belly once more.

"Yes."

"Where?"

"Both places."

"You imagined your cock up my arse?"

"Yes."

"And in my cunt?"

"Yes."

I gripped his shaft and held it straight below my pussy, nuzzling it against my lips. Parting them, I slid his glans inside me and, staring at him, slowly lowered myself onto him. "Like this?"

"Yes."

"You imagined fucking me?"

"Yes."

"Hard and fast? Or soft and slow?"

"Hard and fast."

"Pounding deep inside me?"

"Yes."

"Like this?"

"Yes."

"Is this how you pictured it?"

"Yes."

"Is it good?"

"Yes."

"Harder?"

"Yes."

"Faster?"

"Yes."

"Simon, it's good for me. It's good for me. Fuck me, Simon. Fuck me."

"Oh Molly."

"Feel my breasts. Squeeze them. Yes, yes."

I rode him hard for three or four minutes, sliding myself the length of his cock and ramming it into me, like a cowboy on top of a bucking bronco. Then, when my calves were tiring, I flattened myself against his chest and began to slide, hard and fast, backwards and forwards, relishing the friction of our skin, the damp from our sweat, the smell of our endeavour. I grabbed his hands and stretched his arms out, christ-like, my mouth falling on his face and planting kisses on his nose, cheek, eyes, mouth. Our breathing was hard, exhausted.

"Did you picture me on top, or you?"

"Me." "Want to go on top now?"

"Yes."

I gripped my arms around him and, without letting his cock escape from my vagina, rolled to my left and manoeuvred myself onto my back. Simon rose, his cock still embedded deep within me, sweat forming on his brow and a look of intense concentration on his face.

"Fuck me, Simon."

I gripped my legs around his arse and pulled him close, forcing him deeper inside me. He settled on a rhythm and began to pump, long and languid, rocking his hips and switching his angle, sending fabulous sensations through my body. He was rested on his palms, his arms straight, his body raised high above mine, but his thrusts deep and penetrating.

"You've done this before," I sighed, laughing.

"Once or twice." He rocked back and speared into me horizontally. I yelped as a burst of excitement, what I could only describe as a mini-climax, rippled through me. With the same horizontal movement he began to slide, faster, ever faster, in and out, his strokes longer and longer and harder and harder, each one dragging me an insidious step closer to climax. I felt wonderfully full, my insides screaming and my body on fire.

"Me too. Ohhh." I was close to the edge, my body gathering its senses for one concerted burst of elation. My fingers tingled and my feet were numb. My thighs were hot and my brow cold. My cunt was alive with sensation, with heat and with action, the feeling of his cock pounding inside me becoming more intense with each new thrust. My buttocks were clenching automatically, and I tried to untense them, to allow the sensations to filter through my body, but it was too much. I was breathing low and loud, short pants and desperate murmers, as my nails dragged against his arms and back.

"I'm going to come," he breathed, pressing closer to me, his body seeming to envelop mine.

"So am I, so am I." He changed his rhythm, sliding hard and high, and slow and deep inside me, and in that instant I exploded. My muscles gripped his cock as though refusing to release it and a wave of lust roared out of my womb and through my body. I screamed as he continued to thrust inside me, my muscles dragging at him, trying to slow him, trying to devour him. Delight and joy rifled through my body, inhabiting every inch of flesh and ounce of bone. I looked up, into his eyes, dark brown and intense, and watched a flicker of desire pass over them before he raised his gaze to the ceiling, closed his eyes, lowered himself onto my chest and began to come.

"Simon," I said, some four or five minutes later, "that was astounding."