I was sitting in the lounge drinking a beer. Why not? It’s my time, my house. I am a grown man; I can do what I like. Mica, my other half, was at work. I had been working from home, and my work for the day had been done, so relaxation time.

The doorbell rang. I sighed, put my beer down and answered the door; there were two middle-aged women there.

“Hello, yes, can I help you?” I asked.

“We want to bring the true message to you.” One of them said. Bloody God Botherers.

“Oh, I don’t think you do; you don’t have the true message,” I replied.

“Yes, we do. The Lord loves you.”

“No, no, he really doesn’t.”

“Of course he does.”

“No, look, if he loved us, why would he allow so many deaths and wars in his name? If there is one true God, why has he abandoned all the Muslim women and let them be persecuted and stoned and hidden away?”

“He guides and cannot help if we ignore him.”

“Oh, is that so? Why does he allow priests to rape choir boys? Surely, they, of all people, should follow the word of God.”

“You are a disciple of Satan,” and she made the sign of a cross and walked away.

I laughed. “Goodbye, ladies,” I called after them. I had no truck with religion; it had no place in a modern world in my view. I shut the door and went back to my beer. I had a laugh about it over dinner with Mica, my wife.

The next day I had to go to the office for a few hours, and I got home at about eleven thirty. I decided I would have some lunch and then do some more work in the afternoon. The doorbell rang. I opened it half expecting the God Botherers to come back for more. I had plenty more in my arsenal, but no, it was Sophie from next door.

“I see you had the God Botherers yesterday,” she said, laughing.

“Come in, Sophie. Yes, silly women, I half thought that you were them. Come back to try and convert me.”

“I don’t know what you said, but they called you Satan’s spawn and told me to never speak to you; you would corrupt me.”

“Ha ha, unlikely; the only corruption on my mind would be upstairs in bed.”

I don’t really know why I said that. I mean, I don’t recall having flirted with Sophie, but the words just fell out of my mouth.

“Oh,” she said, looking at me, and then noticeably at my crotch, “do you mean that, really?”

I was in a hole now. “Well, if you would call it corruption, I prefer to say pleasure.”

She looked at me with eyes that seemed to pierce my soul, if I had one. “No one would know,” she said.

“We would know.”

“Yes, we would. If it were memorable,” she said, her stance unmoving.

“If you wanted...” I said.

She looked at me for a moment and then said, “Come on, before I change my mind,” and she headed to my stairs.

I was a bit shocked, I have to be honest, but I followed her upstairs; I had a nice view up her dress of her flowery knickers as she went up. In my bedroom, the one I share with my wife, Mica, she pulled her dress over her head and dropped it on a chair, Mica’s chair, as it happened. I mentally shrugged. Well, Mica wasn’t here, was she?

I pulled my polo shirt over my head and dropped it onto my chair as Sophie was undoing her bra. Knickers and bra mismatched meant, to me, that she hadn’t planned this; this was very much spur of the moment. As I pulled my trousers and underpants down together, Sophie pulled down her flowery knickers and revealed her beautifully shaved fanny.

“I’ll need a little preamble,” she said as she lay on the bed. Good, I am not a slam it in and thanks, guy.

I knelt on the bed between her ankles and leant forward, my nose within touching distance of her crease. I inhaled. ‘Oh, what a delight, the slight musk of a woman and nothing else. I ran my nose along her crease, pressing at her nubbin as I reached the top end. Sophie sighed. I reached up under my chin with my right hand and circled her entrance with two fingers, each circle pressing just a little deeper inside her until I was a knuckle in, and then I pushed in as far as my fingers would go, and as I parted my fingers, she gasped loudly. My little finger lay in the crease of her arse, pressing against her sphincter, pressing but not inwards.

I moved my head up slightly, my nose leaving her nubbin, and I probed with my tongue, flicking her nubbin, teasing it from its hood, and then I closed my mouth around it, and I sucked, my tongue flicking it as it was in my mouth.

“Oh Jesus Fucking Christ,” Sophie gasped.

It seemed I was doing something right; that’s nice. I began to finger-shag her, my two fingers straight and going in and out, as my tongue worked in synchronisation with my fingers. Sophie was panting louder and louder, and her body was rocking in an up-and-down movement. I pressed as hard and as deep as I could, my tongue only lightly flicking her nubbin, and as I sensed her moment was close, I pressed in hard and held my fingers still, rocking my hand against her fanny and valley and pushing hard with my tongue.

Sophie rose off the bed; she gurgled, her fanny squeezed my fingers hard, almost painfully. Gosh, she had some muscles, and she screamed, her screech echoing around the bedroom.

“Stop, Jesus, stop,” she cried, pushing my head away from her groin.

“My God, who taught you that? Jesus H.”

“Mica knows what she likes, and I know it is in my best interest to deliver.” I answered, I suppose a little smugly.

“I mean, Phil makes me cum, but never like that.” Phil is her husband, presumably out at work.

“I aim to please,” I answered as I moved up the bed and lay next to her. “Okay then?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

“Fuck off, you know it was.”

I smiled. Now, would she reciprocate?

“Are you desperate, or will you take a raincheck? Only, I didn’t expect to be doing this, not with you anyway, and I have stuff I need to do, and you deserve better than a quick blow job. If you want, I will, but know it won’t be my best.”

“I am nothing if not civilised, of course I can accept your raincheck. Any idea when? Only I want to ensure my diary is clear.”

“Not tomorrow, Phil is home; the morning after, Wednesday morning, come to me, if that’s okay?”

“Yes, that’ll be fine; I am looking forward to it.”

“Good, me too. Now I need to go and shower.” She got up and put her dress on, and carrying her underwear, she went downstairs and out of my front door.

I fussed around the bedroom, checking that there was no sign of our activities, sprayed some Febreze on the bed, and then a little of my cologne and remade it. A final check, and I reckoned it would pass a CSI inspection, and as far as I knew, Mica didn’t have any lumisol or a UV light. Anyway, there was none of me on the bed from this morning, last night with Mica, yes, but this morning with Sophie, no.