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When I started to rub her arse, she demanded that I “Get my tongue in there”. She turned around on the bed and knelt with her arse pointing at me. Her cock was pointing out and this beautiful arse was sitting right in front of me. I pulled the cheeks apart and dived in with my tongue. I know this sounds weird but her arse tasted magnificent. I had tongued a lot of arseholes in my time and there was something hot about the shitty, sweaty taste that a man’s arse gave off. This was different – it was incredibly sweet.I went at the arse for ten minutes and my cock just kept weeping pre-cum. She moaned relentlessly. I think she enjoyed the rimming more than the cock-sucking. Finally she said the words I had been dreaming of “Now I am going to fuck your arse”. We swapped positions. I knelt on the end of the bed and she stood behind me with her beautiful cock in her hand. I rubbed my pre-cum in my arsehole and took a deep toot on the amyl. I said “Fuck with me with that beautiful cock. Fuck. I thanked him and walked towards the waiting room. As I was walking along the side of the workshop I passed a hole in the wall as a young mechanic was walking out of it, carrying an open bottle of something. I didn't see him straight away, and he wasn't concentrating on where he was going and we collided. Part of the contents of the bottle splashed right down the front of my dress. As the lad backed away from me I could see that most of the liquid had splashed down him. "That's acid" the lad said and shouted "Pete, I've spilt some acid on a customer."Pete was quick off the mark and was there in seconds. He took one look at us and said, "quick, clothes off and into the shower, that acid will burn your skin." It was then that I started to feel a tingling round the wet area of my stomach. I guessed that he wasn't joking. What else could I do, not wanting to pull the dress over my head, I pulled it off my shoulders and wriggled out of it. There I was, naked in the middle of a garage full.
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She was asleep, he nearly so; I sat in the corner, trying and failing to concentrate on my book. There were a thousand places I would rather be than here, but she needed him, and he needed me.(In retrospect, these many years later, I think we were both fooling ourselves, he and I. It was the other way around: he needed her, and I needed him.)I checked the clock—twenty minutes, and I would have to leave. I hated hospitals. Even the prospect of seeing an attractive nurse failed to compensate for the oppressive atmosphere of concentrated misery.As his head dipped, he started and looked up. He too checked the clock and apparently arrived at the same conclusion. Gently lowering her hand to the bed, he began to stand up, clearly stiff from sitting so long.I stood to lend him a hand, but he waved me off. "Stop treating me like an old man," he said softly with a smile. Even here, even with her here, he maintained that smile with a persistence born of long habit.Both of us stretched as we.

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