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I took him inside so he could get warm and I sat him down on the sofa. He was freezing. I rubbed his hands one at a time. He got embarrassed. I rubbed his hands one at a time between my hands. “Your hands are like ice.” “It’s all right. I’m used to it.” I carried on rubbing his hands to get ‘em warm. He tried to pull his hands away, said he was ok. “Don’t be daft. I’m looking after you.” I was doing it coz I really did care. Didn’t want him to catch his death or nothing. He’d been delivering my. You buzz me in and ignoring the elevator, I take the stairs three at a time up to the fourth floor. You open the door just as I arrive and I see you are dressed in a thin black dress, a single strand of white beads around your neck. As you turn I see that you are not wearing a bra as your breasts move unrestricted under the dress. The sight of you takes away the little breath I had left from the stairs. I follow you into the apartment. The lounge has a small sofa facing a large TV, an old chest. She had done what any loving mother would do and put the safety of her child before her own emotional needs. We walked in silence down the tree-lined streets, holding each other’s hand, each grieving in our inner solitude. We spoke of what happened the day I died. Why she left before I awoke (three days later). The devastation I faced due to her absence. I told her what memories my Swiss cheese brain had of the events of that fateful day, and we walked on. She spoke of the ultimate joy she felt. Several tantalising glances in the rear-view mirror revealed glimpses of her dress almost pulled up to her waist with her seductively hot stockings and suspenders on show.We arrived in town outside a trendy bar and she leaned forward and gave me a hot kiss complete with the instruction not to wait up for her. She made her way into the club, attracting admiring glances from the pumped-up security staff. I immediately drove home, my whole body quivering and cock pulsating in quivering.
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