Ben wished good night to Marcie too, then went to his room and closed the door. As he undressed and put on the ersatz pyjamas that he’d worn in the hospital, he thought of everything that had just happened. He felt sad to be leaving Marcie on her own, but rationally he knew it was the right thing to do. He turned off the lamp and stretched out under the soft duvet, relishing its clean laundry smell as he willed himself to relax.

Marcie had been right. After the drama of yesterday and the night in hospital, he very much needed a restful sleep now. He had felt deeply weary when they had returned from his flat, and then the wine and good food had made him even drowsier. Yet the powerful stimulation of her company had kept him going with energetic enthusiasm. Now it seems those reserves were drained too, leaving him so tired that his bones seemed to ache with it.

Yet still sleep would not come. He lay on his back comfortably, despite the flimsy bed, listening to Marcie moving around, then noticing the lights click off as silence fell. He wondered if the unfamiliar constriction of the clothes he was wearing in bed wasn’t helping, so he slipped them off.

He breathed slowly and steadily, but his mind would not stop playing back everything that had happened over the last day and a half. His thoughts eventually settled on Marcie herself, and how it had felt to be so close to her on the sofa, cuddling and kissing. He thought of her hair and her breasts as, unbidden, his erection came back firmly. The thought of masturbating crossed his mind, but he deliberately moved his hands away from his crotch, thinking of the shame he would feel if he spilt semen on Marcie’s clean bedsheets.

Suddenly he heard a noise at the door. The handle was being turned and there was a small click as it was pushed open. “Marcie?” he asked quietly of the darkness.

The door opened and he just make out her shadowy figure squeezing into the room beside his bed. “Ben, I’m sorry,” she whispered, pushing the door to before sinking to her knees beside his pillows. Ben could just make out that she was wearing long pyjamas, and she seemed to have tied her hair back again. He could see her wide eyes in the gloom but couldn’t make out her glasses, but then realised that she was not wearing them. “I’m sorry,” she repeated, “I didn’t mean to wake you. I just wanted to check,” she paused, “To check you were safe.”

“It’s okay. I wasn’t really asleep,” he murmured in a low voice.

“I couldn’t sleep either,” she said quietly, still on her knees beside him, “I’m glad, well, I’m glad you’re breathing. That’s not all though. I didn’t just come through to check you were okay,” she admitted, but then drew a deep breath herself before going on, “Ben, I’ve got to say it, I think we’re making a mistake.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, anxiously wondering if she was having second thoughts about letting him stay over. But felt his anxiety evaporate as she raised her hand to his cheek, stroking his ear.

“About waiting,” she explained, “I’ve been thinking hard, and it’s just been getting clearer and clearer to me. It’s a mistake to wait when we both know what’s happening,” she paused, drawing another deep breath as if finding the courage to leap over the brink. Then she went on, “I asked you before with words, with my mind as it were, when I wanted to know if you’d like to be my boyfriend. Then I think I asked you again with my body, when we kissed on the sofa. Now I’m asking for the third time, with my heart, my soul, my very being it feels like. Come to me. Be with me. It is the right thing for us to do. Come to my bed. I know we can’t have sex yet, because of your poorly lungs, but just sleep with me, in truth. Forget that this is happening so fast, forget the crazy things that have brought us together right now, forget the uncertain future, forget everything else. Come to bed with me. Just say yes now.”

Ben found he’d reacted without thinking, pushing the duvet aside and swinging himself toward the floor. He fell out of the rickety bed onto his knees beside her, finding her elbow with his hand. “Yes,” he said as they leant towards each other. Their lips touched, gently brushing each other. Ben squeezed her elbow and they rose to their feet together, Marcie slipping her hand into his.

He guessed that despite the darkness, Marcie would be able to see that he was naked. He self-consciously wondered if she could see his penis too, long and engorged, hanging down between the two of them. He guessed they had passed the stage of polite shy modesty with each other now, though. Then he realised that perhaps she did understand his aroused state when she placed her free hand gently on his chest and said, “Oh Ben, I didn’t mean to get you all revved up again. You need your sleep. Come on. Bring your pillows too.”

Still gripping Ben’s big hand as he grasped the pillows from the camp bed with his free hand, Marcie awkwardly used her own free hand to open the door in the narrow space with an apologetic giggle, then led him out. There was some light in the corridor, spilling in from the street through the panel above the door, but Marcie’s own room was in deep darkness.

Ben noticed a faint lived-in fragrance to her bedroom though, which he guessed was a blend of faded perfume, worn clothes, old bedsheets, hair conditioner, skin creams and so on. This melange of Marcie’s normal life that he could perceive only subtly somehow made him feel honoured and privileged to be here, in the heart of her nest as it were, sharing a close intimacy with her just by being at the epicentre of her day-to-day routine.

Marcie did not pause though as she led him to the blocky shadow of her bed. Guided as much by the sounds of her rustling duvet as the vague impression of her position in the darkness, Ben found the edge of the mattress that Marcie had already climbed onto. He kept his soft grip on her hand as he dropped his fistful of pillows somewhere near the head of the bed, letting himself be pulled in towards her. She was lying on one side on the far side of the bed now, wriggling to get comfortable on her own pillows as she faced him, gripping his hand. Ben wanted to cuddle her, so he released her then pushed himself against her as he lay down, feeling the brushed cotton of her pyjamas on his chest and thighs as she pulled the duvet over them. Then they put their arms around each other, finding each other’s lips in the darkness, kissing slowly, Marcie’s mouth only fractionally ajar.

Ben was aware of the pressure of Marcie’s breasts against his chest, warm and soft under her pyjamas. His penis was firmly erect now, and when she threw her leg across his hip, he felt it become tangled in the warm fabric between her thighs. Then he realised that they had both started pressing and grinding against each other, seemingly led by passionate instinct alone, Marcie as eager as he was to simulate the motions of true sexual intercourse. He was aware of how stimulated he felt by rubbing the sensitive head of his wooden erection against the friction of her pyjama’s cloth, now that his foreskin had peeled back. But then the animation of Marcie’s hips and her kissing stilled.

She sighed, raising her hand to the side of his face, stroking his cheek tenderly, even as he still pressed against her, panting. She said, “Oh, I so want to carry on, but I’m being selfish. You need to sleep, and to take care of your lungs. I must leave you in peace.”

Ben could see the sense in what she said. Even though he was quite prepared to take the risk of getting utterly breathless by making love, it would be very embarrassing to end up back in the RVI. He would not be able to forgive himself if Marcie had to call an ambulance for him again now. He found himself saying, “Okay. You’re right.”

Marcie gave him one last peck on his lips, then snuggled down in the bed as Ben backed off from her and quickly rummaged around with his hand to restore his foreskin over his glans. They came to rest spooning, her lying with her back to him, him resting his hips against her buttocks, one arm around her, his hand limp and still as it cupped her breast, tucked against the sheet. He nuzzled against the back of her neck. He realised now that she’d put her hair in a plait to sleep, but the small feathery hairs that had escaped still tickled his nose. Slowly, as he calmed down, he found a deepening sense of relaxation, breathing in the scent of her and feeling the weight of his head on her pillow.

His arousal ebbed as he drifted at the edge of sleep, but it didn’t leave him completely. He remained excited to be so close to Marcie. He would suddenly remember where his hand was, becoming aware again of the soft warmth of her breast through the fabric under his fingertips. Or she would twitch, making her buttocks jerk pleasingly against his penis. Or he would simply hear her sigh, or he would find himself deeply breathing in the fragrance of her skin and hair again. And so in this way his arousal would return, his manhood growing and becoming hard again, before subsiding once more in its slow waves.

He knew that Marcie must be able to feel him poking against her. He had risen to a rigidity that pressed into her yielding buttocks for perhaps the fourth time when she gave up the pretence of trying to sleep. “Hmm, it’s not calming down, is it?” she murmured, placing her hand over his at her breast and slowly wriggling her hips against him, stimulating his penis deliberately with her bum. “Do you need to let it out?”

“How do you mean?” Ben asked quietly in the darkness, trying to keep the eager excitement at what he suspected she was suggesting from his voice.

“Do you need to come?” she asked pragmatically as she rolled over in the bed. Then, lying so that her face was almost brushing his, without waiting for him to answer, she went on, “If you ejaculated, perhaps it would help you get off to sleep properly. I don’t mind. I’d like to help,” she concluded, again tenderly stroking his cheek.

Ben gave her a peck on her mouth as a tiny token of his immense gratitude, pressing their lips together gently before answering drowsily, “I would like that very much.”

“So may I touch you now?” Marcie asked, unnecessarily Ben felt.

“Of course,” he replied, luxuriating in the pleasure of his firm arousal, feeling free to honestly express it now.

She ran her fingertips from his cheek, down his neck and chest, under the duvet and under his arm, which was still thrown lazily across her body, right down his belly to his crotch. He felt a shiver of delight as she found his manhood, wrapping her hand gently around it near the base of its shaft.

“That’s you, then,” she purred, slyly admitting, “It’s nice, having you in my hand.” As she held him, he felt himself grow still harder. Without any help except the rising tumidity, his head pushed itself free of his foreskin again with an exquisite sensation. But Marcie still simply gripped him, her hand motionless as she went on, “I’m sorry if this won’t be everything we might have hoped for. It feels as if our first true intimacy should be epic, a wildly physical gymnastic session, swinging from the chandeliers in our passionate enthusiasm!”

She had let go of him briefly to push the duvet back and prop herself up a little. Now she held him upright again, massaging his shaft very slowly. Though she was lying on top of one arm, she had managed to reach his belly with the fingertips of her other hand to stroke him there too. “But I know the risk to those lungs,” she went on, “So if all I can do is a simple hand job while you stay as relaxed and calm as you possibly can, I want to make it nice. Would you like me to get undressed too?”

“Aye, yes please,” Ben said earnestly, already breathing quite heavily.

“Would you like to see me, then? Shall I turn a light on?”

“Yes, oh yes!” he said, agreeing to her question even as he expressed his excitement at the stimulation she was giving him.

“Just a moment then,” she said, letting go of him and shuffling around.

It was a shock to his eyes when the bedside lamp came on. He briefly shielded them, then took in the room. The lamp rested on a small bedside chest of drawers, casting a pool of light on a scattered pile of hair accessories, cosmetics and makeup. He was facing the louvre doors of a fitted wardrobe. He turned his head briefly to see the niche of the bay window behind him, heavily draped in long dark curtains. There was a dressing table and chair there, one covered in a pile of papers with a laptop computer balanced on top, the other covered in clothes. On the wall beyond the foot of the bed were some framed posters, stylishly advertising sunny travel destinations, just like the one in the spare room. Beneath them were stacked piles of yet more books, perhaps those that Marcie had taken from the shelves in the spare room to make space for him.

Marcie had risen to her feet and was standing shyly at the edge of the bed. “Sorry it’s a mess in here,” she said as, after his moment to take in his surrounding, his focus returned to her.

Ben didn’t want to say it, but he’d seen a lot worse. He reassured her, “Don’t worry. It’s lovely. It’s your home.”

“And these pyjamas,” she said, raising her hand to the top button of her shirt, “I thought these would be a total passion killer.”

Ben was almost ready to agree, now that he could see them clearly. Her soft cotton plaid pyjama suit, with its roomy trousers and long-sleeved top, complete with a little collar, could not have been more homely. And yet it still revealed the curves of her body beneath, her wide hips and her heavy bust. His arousal had not dampened at all, thinking of her naked skin under the soft brushed cotton. In some ways, he found her sexier for the honest simplicity of her choice of nightwear. “They didn’t work,” he said weakly.

“Shall I just take them off quickly?” she asked, perhaps more as a challenge to herself as she tried to find the courage to do so in front of him, because before he could answer, her fingers were already undoing the buttons.

Ben saw her reveal the deep crease between her breasts, and then as she undid the last button of her pyjama top, she pushed her chest out to shrug it off her shoulders. Suddenly her naked breasts were revealed before him, giving Ben a surge of arousal as he saw their heavy curves, the large dusky pink ovals of her areolae, the crumpled buds of her nipples and the thin paler skin taut beneath them. He felt mildly surprised that her areolae were not darker, then internally chastised himself for his possible prejudice. He’d half expected her to reveal chocolate-brown circles around her nipples, perhaps because he’d unconsciously thought that with her thick dark hair she was of a different race. Now he saw that even though her skin had an olive tone, she was clearly just southern European, not of Middle Eastern or North African origins. He immediately knew that her breasts - with their full volume, naturally weighing down and parting widely over her ribs, with their delicate tracery of veins too, surmounted by those rosy stretched circles around her nipples - were simple perfection in his eyes. “You’re beautiful!” he found himself exclaiming.

“I’ve got big wobbly boobs, you mean,” she teased, bundling her pyjama top up and throwing it to the floor, making the boobs that she had referred to sway a little, just as she’d said.

“They’re so feminine,” he tried to explain, struggling to find words in his distraction, “You’re so perfectly feminine.”

“Well, you’re so masculine,” she replied, gesturing at his exposed penis.

Suddenly a thought occurred to him, given the pleasure that he felt looking at Marcie now, “Can you even see me that clearly, without your glasses?”

“No, not really,” she confessed, raising her hands to her shoulders, perhaps deliberately trying to cover her chest with her crossed arms. Ben could still see enough of her breasts though, so the gesture merely seemed to make her even sexier.

“Well, put them on if you want,” he said.

“You wouldn’t mind?” she asked sceptically.

“Of course not!” Ben replied earnestly, feeling as if he were hearing an echo of her previous boyfriends’ expectations in the room. As she scrabbled for them on the bedside table, he guiltily watched her breasts swing and jiggle again. He found he’d automatically moved his hand to cup his scrotum, holding the base of his eager erection, increasing the pleasure of his rigid arousal.

“Ah, there you are! Oh, I see you’re still wearing my Nanna’s charm, even if I found you naked in bed. You were as good as your word, sleeping without pyjamas.”

Ben was surprised that she hadn’t even been able to see the necklace without her glasses, and felt glad that she was wearing them now. He also felt glad that he’d undressed in his own bed earlier. In the hospital, he’d only hinted to Marcie that he typically slept in the nude, but it was obviously a detail that she’d remembered.

“It’s good to see your little man clearly too! Not that he’s so little.” Marcie said lightly as her eyes shifted down Ben’s body, lying prone on her bed, to stare at his exposed full manhood.

“He’s not always so much to look at,” Ben said self-deprecatingly, slipping quickly into her habit of treating his penis like an independent male personality. He tried to imagine seeing the long curved shaft with its bulging blood vessels and cherry-red head through her eyes. “He’s a bit of an odd thing to look at now too.”

“No, he’s the real deal,” she said, almost as if to herself. “Well, I should introduce him to my pussy, even if we can’t get them together tonight.”

With that she quickly pushed her pyjamas down over her wide hips, letting them fall to the floor. Ben was delighted to see the thick dark triangle of her untidy pubic hair, broad under the smooth skin below her bellybutton, tapering to the gap between her firm naked thighs, where he thought he could just see the shadowy crease of her vulva.

Suddenly a thought seemed to occur to her, and she put one hand quickly over her pubic hair, the other going to her breast. Once again though, this vain attempt at modesty only made her seem even sexier to Ben as she stood beside her bed. She had become the very image of the perfect nude to him, the model and muse to artists throughout history, even whilst the glasses over her anxious eyes gave her the educated appearance of a modern, elevated intellectual.

“I forgot to say,” She urgently explained, “I don’t shave! Do you mind? I could cover up again if this is a big turn-off.”

“Hell no!” Ben said emphatically, “It’s your womanhood, full, honest and flourishing, just like my manhood.”

“I think I’m being deeply unfashionable, letting her stay bushy,” Marcie said, dropping her hand and lifting her knee to start getting back into bed. As she stooped to lift the corner of the duvet, Ben struggled to lift his eyes from the shadows between her legs, even with the delicious sight of her breasts, hanging low and swinging as she quickly moved into bed. He had definitely caught an arousing glimpse of the long line between her hairy outer lips though.

“She’s wonderful just like that,” he said, trying to reassure Marcie even as he still gripped the base of his rampant arousal.

“Well, I hope she gets on well with your little man! Your jack-in-the-box, your pop-up pirate, your long jolly Rodger, your rod,” she said, clearly enjoying herself, giggling as she played with her ideas and snuggled up beside him, touching the head of his penis briefly with her fingertips, before getting under his free arm that he’d held out to her. “I hope they get to know each other very well.”

Ben had been watching the moving curves of Marcie’s naked body with delight. Now he felt a visceral thrill as her skin made contact with his, all along their thighs, their hips and their torsos, but especially where the soft cushion of her breast pressed against his chest. His tingling excitement rose higher still when she played her fingernails down his bare chest and stomach. “I’d like that,” Ben said, releasing his own genitals, letting that firm rod fall heavily against his torso as he reached towards her, to stroke and caress her, craning his neck to kiss her too.

But Marcie pushed his arm gently back, then put her palm on his forehead, encouraging him to lie back on the pillow as she said, “Shh, you’re to relax, to take this very easy. I’m going to stroke you, to masturbate you, as gently as I can until you’re able to let your semen out, to release all that pressure, just as calmly as you can. Okay?”

“Okay,” Ben agreed breathlessly, even as Marcie brushed his erect penis with her nails, up his shaft to the back of his head with all the gentleness she’d promised. His breath was speeding up as his chest heaved now, but it was only his eager anticipation, and it all felt absolutely fine.

“Hmm, your rod, yes,” Marcie murmured dreamily as she delicately stroked, “Your magic wand, your woody stem, your pink banana, your slippery bone, your cherry lollipop, your ripe plum on its stiff trunk, full of sweet juice, ready to burst, your virile manhood, yes.”

Still lying on her side, tucked under his armpit, she’d managed to free her other hand, bringing it across his thigh to grip his shaft awkwardly while she conjured up her metaphors. Meanwhile the fingertips of her higher hand were delicately touching his exposed head, or his frenulum specifically, while her thumb rested on its collar. As she idly played with him, she asked, “You’re not circumcised, are you? Oh, do you mind me asking? Do you mind me even talking? I’ve been chattering away. Say ‘Shut up woman, just get on with it,’ if that’s what you want.”

Ben was breathing deeply, absorbed in the exciting sensations of her hands on his satisfyingly long and stiff erection, but he managed to answer. “No. I’m not circumcised. It’s just rolled up. Do ask, anything. And do talk. It’s nice. Oh, this feels good, what you’re doing.”

“I want to be gentle, though,” she said. She had found a bead of lubrication that had leaked from the tip of his urethra and was sliding her forefinger around on it. That obviously prompted an idea in her mind as she remarked, “Hmm, that’s slippery. Ooh! I have a tube of gel. Would it feel nice if I put some on you?”

“Aye, yes,” Ben answered eagerly but breathlessly, “I use my saliva sometimes too, but gel is good.”

“I’ll get it then, but I’ll remember I can use spit as a backup. It’s in a drawer on your side, excuse me,” she said, dropping his heavy penis and reaching across to move over the top of him. “Lie still!” she commanded as she got one knee over his legs, propping herself up with her hands across his chest. In this position, her bushy vulva’s shadowy lips were spread wide and poised just above his erection, whilst her naked breasts swung down, just brushing his chest. In his primal excitement at this, Ben had been unable to resist the urge to lift his hands and grasp her wide hips. He was also raising his head in the hope of kissing her, on her neck and shoulders at least, even if he could not reach her mouth.

So he realised her command might have been necessary to divert them from that path back toward simulated intercourse, or even the real thing had she complied with his impulse to push himself against her, if she were to willfully receive his penetration. At that moment Ben would have been very happy to thrust his hips against her, to rub his penis against her vulva and to keep moving with urgent pressure until he came. Her words may have saved his hammering heart from leading him recklessly into another attack of genuinely life-threatening breathlessness, or even the risky realm of unplanned and unprotected intercourse.

Now she was lying on her front across the sheet next to him, on what had been his side of the bed. Her head was hanging over the edge whilst she rummaged in the drawer that she must have pulled open in its base. “Aha!” she said, rolling onto her back, holding her prize - a tube of intimate gel - in her fist. Ben recognised the K-Y brand and briefly wondered why Marcie had it, then quickly banished the thought, letting himself just enjoy the moment. She undid the cap then tucked herself under Ben’s arm once again, in the mirror image of the position that she’d been in moments earlier.

Now that she was lying on her side again, squashing one arm beneath her, her lower hand again had limited movement as it held Ben’s turgid erection. Noticing this, he put his own hand around his scrotum again, to grip the base of his shaft and hold himself upright. He felt a delicious thrill as Marcie squirted the cold gel onto his glossy red head, squeezing the tube generously with her raised hand. “Oh, is that chilly?” Then she tossed the tube aside to rub the lubrication all around his glans, gripping it in a slippery fist, making Ben spasm and shiver with arousal, “But nice, I think. Just lie still, breath slowly and enjoy it now.”

She did not pause, but kept gently massaging him between the tips of her fingers and thumb with slow twisting movements, even whilst her other hand maintained a steady grip low on his shaft, brushing his own hand. “I just want to hold you,” she explained, “Maybe you would rub your little man up and down, but I think like this you will still come when you’re ready. Let me know if I’m doing it wrong.”

Ben was panting, feeling himself building to orgasm even as he lay passively in Marcie’s hands, trying to keep his heavy breathing slow and deep. “It’s good. I’m close,” he managed to say as he looked deep into her smiling eyes, then down. He gaze fell over her body, past her breasts, squashed together as she lay on her side and pressed against his ribcage. He could only see one nipple, poking up on the wrinkled pink field of her areola. Lower down, he could also only just see the corner of her pubic hair, but he imagined her vulva lying against his thigh. But now he was looking at his own penis, stretched long and rigid in her small hands.

She had moved her fingers to the collar of his glans, so he could see how glossy and full its dark reddish-purple bulb appeared. She was encircling it with her finger and thumb, making a slow back and forth screwing motion, dragging his tender skin a little. Then she momentarily withdrew her fingers to put them to her mouth. Ben was excited to see her purse her lips and squeeze some bubbling saliva onto them, then her fingertips were back around his head, slipping over it more easily again.

“I think I can squeeze between his head and his hood,” she murmured. Ben was softly panting in pleasure now, holding himself up firmly as she worked, one finger close to his anus, his thumb pressing into his penis at the point where it rose from his pubic mound. But Marcie had already shifted her hand again. Her thumb was now pressing on the back of his head, stroking in tiny circles, while her index finger was still hooked around its collar, even whilst her other small hand just gripped his shaft firmly, pulling down as if to stretch him out, her fist pressing against his thumb. “Is that good? Ooh, is it getting even harder? Oh!”

Her surprise of exclamation came because a pulse of semen had suddenly burst out, catching them both by surprise as it arced high over Ben’s chest to land somewhere near his collarbone. He groaned as the next pulse of his ejaculation came, a great gout this time, splashing down audibly near his bellybutton. Yet still he hovered at the brink of his true orgasm. “Oh Marcie! Fuck!” he breathed as she continued to stimulate his head and shaft. He buried his face against her, pressing his cheek and lips against her forehead, feeling the soft tickle of her stray hairs as he grunted in pleasure. He’d tipped over the edge now, falling inevitably into the mindless ecstasy of the moment as his penis twitched and spasmed.

“That’s it, let it come. It’s all okay, I’m here. Let it flow. Breathe easy,” she crooned as he followed her advice, feeling himself sinking into her bed, willing his muscles to relax, to release their tension, from his shoulders and biceps down his stomach to his buttocks and anus, through his thighs and right down to his toes. The pulses of his continued ejaculation were inevitable now of course, making his penis jerk about involuntarily as the semen kept pumping out, trickling down over Marcie’s hand. He was panting, groaning softly with each rapid breath. But his orgasm still felt profoundly calm, flowing through his body, as Marcie had said, taking him past any cares, past any thought, so all he knew was the electrifying experience of raw bliss coursing through him, leaving him shaking and shuddering.

The long moment passed, and his heavy breathing slowed whilst the delicate yet secure movements of Marcie’s hands stilled. Then she lifted her upper hand from his penis, which was already softening, even whilst it remained thick and long. To his surprise, he saw her lift her loose fist back to her mouth and suck up the semen that had dribbled across it. Licking the last smears, she looked guiltily up at him, her eyes twinkling with a cheeky grin. “I’m the cat who’s got the cream,” she said slyly by way of explanation, then dropped her hand to his belly.

She’d deliberately placed her palm in the slick puddle of semen that had pooled there, and now she rubbed it across his firm flat stomach in an increasingly wide spiral. Ben found himself thrilled by this in his post-orgasmic sensitivity. He breathed out a long low “Hmm,” even as he felt the last few drops of semen oozing from his softening penis. His free hand moved from where it had been, cupping his scrotum, to grip Marcie’s smooth bare hip.

“Does it normally shoot out like that?” she asked quietly as she found the smaller puddle by his collarbone.

“No, that was exceptional. In every way. Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me. I wanted to do it for you, but I enjoyed it for myself too. I enjoyed myself a lot! Oh look, you even splashed Nanna’s pendant!” Marcie exclaimed, prodding the sticky little silver cross with her fingertip.

“I’m sorry. It’s not disrespectful is it, letting it get dirty?”

“Don’t be silly. It’s more like you Christened it, I would say. I won’t mention it to my Nanna, though. She’d laugh about it for the rest of her days, and tell all her friends too. And hey, this stuff isn’t dirty, right?” she said, raising her semen-covered palm to his face, “It’s healthy and natural. You and me, when we make our fluids in love, we should not be ashamed of them, right? If we left them lying around too long, maybe they’d get manky, but when they’re fresh, they’re to be enjoyed and celebrated as the expression of our passion, okay?”

Ben thought he saw now why Marcie was happy to put his semen to her mouth, and why she might have enjoyed smearing it across his torso too. He could see her point of view, though it felt unfamiliar. Perhaps in his mind, he’d only thought of these things as necessary side effects of lovemaking, to be dealt with promptly by wiping them away. “Okay,” he agreed. “You know I’m safe too, don’t you? I take care. I would have told you if I had anything awful, well, like AIDS. Because we’re still honest, right? I give blood and they take tests, so I’m sure.”

“Yes, absolutely we’re honest, about what we want, about how we feel with all this sex stuff now too. But this would have been a hell of a time to tell me if you’d been a risk!” she joked. “And I’m safe too, if we get to that later. But I’m not on the Pill, so we’ll still use condoms, okay?”

“Okay,” Ben said, pulling her close for a cuddle, his mind reeling at the thought that Marcie was genuinely anticipating fully penetrative sex with him. At last they kissed again, lazily and deeply, Marcie lying across him, her soft breasts and smooth stomach pressing against the sticky skin of his torso. Ben could taste his sperm in Marcie’s mouth, and he savoured it, breathing deeply through his nose as he sucked her tongue. His hand had moved from her hip to the full cheek of her buttock, which he gripped and rolled in his hand. But he was struggling to make the effort to move now as his deep bone-weary tiredness was returning.

Marcie may have inferred this from his slowing motion, as she raised her head and said, “I’ve got to put you down and let you get to sleep. Let me get my pyjamas to rub down any wet patches we’ve still got. They’re going in the wash now, and I think maybe they won’t come out again for a very long time. I’m going to join you in sleeping naked tonight, I think.”

Marcie had pushed herself across him again, sliding over like a seal rather than propping herself up. A part of Ben still wanted to grab her, hold her close while she lay on top of him, but he felt too tired to even try. She was lying next to him again now, one part of her brushed cotton plaid bedtime outfit in her fist, rubbing her hands down. She offered it to Ben, and he took it to wipe the drips that had leaked from his softening rod, as Marcie had called it amongst all those other playful metaphors. He wiped his chest and around his bellybutton too, dabbing at the necklace, though some of the semen had already dried to crusty flakes on his warm skin. Still lying on his back, he passed the dirty garment to Marcie, who dropped it on the floor.

“Are you ready for me to turn the light out?” she asked, and Ben confirmed he was. When she’d removed her glasses and clicked off the light, he cuddled up against her bare skin in the darkness, again finding they’d fitted together naturally in the spooning position. He felt thrilled to put his hand on her bare breast, touching its silken softness with his rough hands, feeling the bump of her nipple under his fingertips. Yet he kept still, also feeling the weight in his limbs, and his spent penis did not respond, as sleep was rapidly claiming him.

“You’re my girlfriend now, Marcie,” he whispered as he drifted. He wasn’t sure himself if it was a question or a statement.

“Yes,” he heard her whisper in response with a contented sigh, “And you’re my man, Benjamin Osborne.”