I sat alone in the lounge, waiting for the clock to strike nine. Really. I just sat there, getting wetter and hotter the whole time. I damn near came on the spot when the clock chimes began.

I had promised I wouldn't touch myself until they started, and I didn't. But as soon as that little hammer dinged the bell for the first time, the hand was indeed faster than the eye. My fingers shot down my pants, and I began caressing myself frantically, moaning and gyrating on the sofa, urged on by the insistent bell. By the fifth chime, I was pinching my nipples with one hand, and sliding my slippery finger over my erect nubbin at the same time. Chime six had me squeezing my breasts, hard. Number seven caused me to thrust my hips in the air in desperation. As the eighth bell tolled, so did I. A climax worthy of the name, my body shaking helplessly with the release, as I fell back on the sofa, drenched in sweat, and finally relaxed.

Until a few months ago, I managed to hold down a part-time job as a retail assistant for a horologist. That's a watchmaker. Yes it is. Go look it up. Anyway, I was helping in the shop for this nice old guy, name of Dennis. He had been making and fixing watches his whole life, and his wife had run the shop until the previous year, when she had succumbed to some disease or other, and Dennis needed someone to cover him for breaks and so on. We had got to the point where he would leave me in charge on late nights, and go home to his empty flat, and I would lock up, and leave notes for him if any work came in over the evening.

I had a busy life at the time. I was seeing an architecture student named Jeremy on a semi-regular basis, and he would drop by sometimes to pick me up from the shop, and we would meet some friends, or whatever else was happening. It was a fairly casual thing, but neither of us had the time or inclination to see anyone else, so it was very comfortable.

One night Jeremy turned up a little early, and helped me put all the valuables in the safe, and lock up the shop. He noticed for the first time, that there was a comfortable looking but narrow bunk set up in the tea room.

"Nadia, what's this bed here for?" He asked me, a suspicious smile on his face.

"Oh, that's from when Dennis' wife was still working here. She needed to take a nap some days."

"You know, if you turn the lights off out there, we could cuddle down here for a while. The guys aren't meeting us until Eleven, so we don't need to rush off."

"What exactly do you have in mind Jeremy, you dirty pervert?"

I knew though. He had a high sex drive, Jeremy did. Well, so did I, but I let him think he needed to persuade me. Men like that. Bastards. Anyway, eventually, we were cosied down on the bunk, under the thin blanket, in the dark, starkers. Shy I'm not.

Jeremy was a slow, unhurried lover, always treating me like some fragile ornament that might smash if he was too rough. I'm not complaining. I enjoyed the attention, and our lovemaking was the best I've ever had. We lay for quite some time, he caressing my body with his gentle hands, me stroking his buttocks and his testicles quietly in the dark. Neither of us were speaking, just stroking and kissing.

As things progressed, Jeremy started to focus more on the area between my legs, with an occasional break for nipple caresses, and I was manhandling him a little more vigorously, his erection firm and sizable in my hands, the tip providing just enough resistance to stop my encircling finger and thumb from falling off. The speed and pressure from both of us gradually increased, and I suddenly realized that I was near orgasm. Any orgasm is great, no doubt, but I most like to come with my man inside me, filling me with his strength and thrusting deeply. So I removed his hand from between my legs, turned him over on his back, and sat astride him, appreciating his gentle ways, whilst feeling his firm muscles. Leaning down to kiss him gently on the mouth, I maneuvered myself directly above the shaft I had been stroking with my hand. As I bent my knees slowly back, I was softly impaled by him, his manhood sliding effortlessly though my thighs gripped him as the muscles pulsed.