Her skirt was so impossibly tight he found himself fantasizing about what colour and style of lacy knickers she might be wearing beneath it (if any) as she turned to one side and bent forward. He also noted how her full but pert tits seemed to float in a pair of shapely cups beneath the brightness of her shiny blouse. He then idly speculated on what she could do with those deep red lips as her long blonde hair cascaded carelessly down over her bobbing bosom like a magical waterfall.

“Yesss!”, he thought. “What she could do with those luscious lips ... mmm!”

The television weather girl looked back at the camera once more and smiled as she waved her arm in front of the moving lines on the graphic image of the country behind her; and as he held and slowly shook the remote in his hand he dreamed lustily of the warm front and wet depression she could bring to him whenever she wanted.

The snap of the laptop closing to the side of him brought him back to reality with a bump. He turned to see her gather up the power brick and cord, and drop them into her bag with the laptop.

“All done?”

“Yes.” she answered.

“Good, now perhaps I can tell you what I wanted to say.”

“Okay, so what do you want to talk about then?” she asked.

Slowly turning back to face the TV on the opposite wall of the room, he reluctantly said a mental goodbye to the weather girl of his wanton wishlist, stopped jigging the remote in his hand and hit the power button. The girl’s smile disappeared as the screen went dark and the small LED in the bottom right corner changed from green to red.

He turned to face her once more and said, “I thought we could talk about our mutual infidelity.”

She gasped, quickly flashed him a sharp look as her face flushed, and then proceeded to look down and study her brightly coloured fingernails. The silence stretched out as the seconds ticked by, and he waited patiently for her to speak.

“Is that wise?” she asked, “After all, we’ve both known about the other’s ‘away games’ for a while, but we’ve both chosen to keep shtum about it. Presumably in your case, because you thought if you said anything, then it would put the stamp of formality on what was otherwise a conveniently informal arrangement?”

He nodded.

“So how’s the harem?” she asked, “All purring with satisfaction I trust?”

He kept his expression neutral, but raised his left eyebrow for a split second.

“And what about you?” he asked. “Any particular reason why you’ve kept quiet about the other members of your ‘first eleven’?”

“I don’t want to humiliate you. I do still love you, you know.”

He smiled, “Well thank you for that, and you know that it’s mutual not just one way, but I still think we should clear the air about how we treat each other from now on, don’t you?”

With her face now bright red, and with an angry look in her eyes she said, “Why now? Why not when you started screwing around? After all you knew I’d find out sooner or later, or did you think I was that stupid that I’d miss the signs?”

He bit his lip and looked down at his shoes.

After a few seconds of lightly kicking the carpet he sighed and said, “I ... uh, I didn’t know what to say, or how to say it, so I decided to just ... say nothing.”

“And hope for the best I suppose?” she asked.

“Hmm, I s’pose so,” he nodded. Looking accusingly at him she pointed at his chest and said, “So where do we start the muckraking from, when you started screwing around or when I did?”

“Whichever was earliest I guess,” he said.

Nodding slightly she said, “Which was what, three years ago, or was it four?”

“Not sure, about three and a half, or perhaps nearer three and three quarters or thereabouts, for me that is,” he said, “What about you?”

Now looking resigned to an argument she said, “Not far off the same I suppose. As soon as I was certain you were playing away I thought ‘Why not? ‘If he can do it so can I. So I did.”

He nodded, then an idea came to him and he asked, “How do you know it was me who started it, you might have been mistaken about me playing away, and gone off bed hopping before I did?”

“Really? Don’t you think I’d know if you were getting it regularly? I know I’m younger than you, but I wasn’t born yesterday you know.”

“Neither was I,” he said, “and when you started going off the boil I put it down to you getting your jollies elsewhere, so I thought I’d do the same.”

“The reason I went ‘off the boil’ as you so succinctly put it,” she said, “was because I could see you were losing interest in me.”

Looking puzzled he said, “What makes you think that?”

“The lack of regular pokes in the back to wake me up, for a start,” she said, “along with sneaking off with your laptop to have a quick wank at some tart on the internet when you thought I was asleep.”

This time it was his face that was reddening.

“Oh yes,” she said, “and spending ages in the shower, which you never used to do. I suppose that was so that you could have some quick wrist action too, wasn’t it?”

With a startled look he opened his mouth to say something, then slowly closed it again.

“No need to imitate a guppy, yuppy!” she said.

Seemingly with nothing more to say on the subject they both looked down and intently studied their shoes in silence for a few seconds, then he breathed in sharply and got up.

“I’ll put the kettle on,” he said, “I don’t know about you, but I find washing dirty linen is thirsty work, and I could do with a brew.”

She nodded and turned away with a look of disdain, to pick up a magazine from the small table on the other side of her chair.

The sound of a teaspoon clinking in the mugs caused her to look up from the article she was reading, about the latest Hollywood hunk being caught ‘in flagrante delicto’ with some floozy from a reality show, and seconds later he came over to where she was sitting, clutching a pair of steaming mugs in one hand and a plate of biscuits in the other. With a deft swirl of his hands he neatly deposited the mugs and plate onto the glass topped coffee table between the two chairs, and sank down heavily into his plush armchair.

Without a word they each picked up a biscuit and dunked it into their respective mugs, then almost in unison, they lifted out the soggy biscuits and quickly dropped them into their open mouths. After slurping coffee to wash down the remains of the biscuits they finally looked at each other, but neither knew where to begin, so they both just sat and shrugged, him looking sheepish while her face seemed to be entirely without expression.

“You spend hours in the shower too you know,” he said softly, “Is that so’s you can rub one out as well?”

“Course, why not?” she said, “It’s about the only time I feel any warmth down there when I’m at home nowadays, when the water’s hosing down my clit.”

He looked at her sternly, then his expression softened and he said tenderly, “You could always ask you know.”

“What like ‘fancy a fuck?’ or something?” she said.

He shrugged, “You never know you might get a nice surprise.”

“Or the answer might be no, and I’d feel foolish and humiliated for ever having asked,” she said.

“Well there is that possibility I suppose,” he said.

“That’s the trouble,” she said, “If I want it, how do I go about finding out if I’m likely to get it without embarrassing myself?”

“Good question,” he said, “Perhaps some kind of signal, like the gays do?”

“What, you mean wearing a pink handkerchief in your breast pocket?” she asked.

“Something like that,” he said.

“How stupid? How childish? Having to resort to such methods to let your partner know how randyyou’re feeling, or not as the case may be,” she sniffed.

“Well I don’t know. There must be something you can try so that you don’t feel awkward about asking for it?”

With a wistful look in her eyes she said, “Yes there is, we could try being a bit more blatant with body language.” “Talking of bodies, you could always put on one of those things you got from the sex toys catalogue,”he said, “That’d work.”

“Fine, and what about you? You haven’t got any leopard skin, split crotch, posing pouches,” she said.

“Um, you know me, I just hang my dick out.”

“That’s okay if there’s no one else around or the curtains are closed, but you can’t just flop it out in the middle of the supermarket now can you?”

“No, but you can’t go round the supermarket in your sex shop gear either. So we’ve both got to be a bit sensible about this,” he said.

She suddenly burst into giggles and started clutching her sides.

“Sorry,” she said, “I just had a mental image of you in the supermarket with your dick flopped out on the checkout conveyor belt, and running along with it to try and keep up with the belt. Meanwhile the checkout girl’s reaching out to grab it and wave it over the bar code reader!”

He smiled as the image formed itself in his mind as well. “Wonder how many loyalty points I’d get for that?” he said.

While he still chuckled at the thought of turning those points into meal vouchers, she got up from her chair and walked around the coffee table so that she was standing right in front of him.

“So how about now?” she asked, “You’re not going to embarrass me by saying no are you?”

He looked up at her and said, “What right now?”

“Why not?” she said, “Ain’t no one here ‘cept us chickens, and all this talk about sex is getting me wet.”

He looked down at his crotch, “Me too,” he said.

She leaned close, so close that she could smell the subtle aroma of his antiperspirant and see the individual hairs on his chest through the open neck of his polo shirt. With his heady fragrance and view in her senses she looked him straight in the eyes and said, “Then drop ‘em!”

He stood up close to her, smiled, sneaked her a sidelong glance through slitted eyes, and said in an American accent from the side of his mouth, “I’ll drop mine if you’ll drop yours.” while moving his eyebrows up and down quickly and fluttering his eyelashes.

She grinned and nodded, and replied, “Sure thing Groucho!”, then started undoing the belt on his trousers.

He grinned in return and reached over her head as she bent forward, and began undoing the zip on the back of her dress.

They say that practice makes perfect, and like a well-oiled machine it took only seconds for them both to be down to their underwear.

With the growing mutual attraction of their semi-nakedness, he placed his hands on her breasts and started gently kneading her nipples through the silky smooth satin of her amply filled bra till they began to stiffen. She put her hands on the crotch of his rapidly tightening underpants and began stroking the growing bulge upwards with one hand while she cupped his balls through the soft cotton cloth with the other.