But then I realise that if I let you guide our movement, I can just pay attention to what I’m feeling and use my words.“Fuck that’s good……fe...ling you deep inside……feeling you sliding… …almost slipping out… …then pushing inside hard and deep.”I can hear your deep breathing as our rhythm gets faster and my words were tumbling out. “What do you want babe? Tell me, describe it to me.”“Oh fuck… …keep going……don’t stop……so good.”You latch onto a few of those words and ask the question you’ve been. "Well, you're a nice looking boy, tell me all about yourself." I found it easy to converse with her and without inhibition. She listened with bright, interested eyes and even asked if I were courting.The job was mine. The salary was a pittance which obliged me to continue living at home, a pauper dependent on the goodwill of Mum and Dad. So the months passed. Vrouw Rosamund came down once each day with the filing and to enquire on how I was getting on. After four months I was promted to senior. More

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