Jack Frost opened his eyes and raised his head up. Around him, in the small underground cave he called home all the dead leaves with covered in ice. He rolled over, stretched and feeling -but not feeling as it- were the chill of the air around him. He rested back, putting his long pale blue arms across his skeleton chest and interlocking even longer fingers.

Looking up at the soil and roots above him, Jack listened to the earth. He had half hoped he’d been wrongly awoken, but no, autumn was coming to an end and it was time for him to go to work. He wiggled his long pointer toes then rolled back over and got on to his hands and knees.

He climbed out of his home and using the roots of the tree above, stood up. He could see the woodland floor was covered in leaves and mud, the tree branches above were bare and the sky was a dark grey wash. He began walking, leaving a trail of shiny white frost behind.

Jack reached his long fingers out and began touching the tree trunks and tall bushes. The icy spikes began to spread and he left them to cover everything. He walked down to the river’s edge and though there was little he could do to make the whole thing ice over, he tried anyway. It just wasn’t cold enough yet though and he could only form small ice patches.

He wandered on, trailing his fingers everywhere and leaving the frost behind him. Jack became lost in thought and sometime later he stopped and looked up at the sky. He could see the coming dawn.

How much longer until Santa arrives and brings the snow with him? Jack wondered.

He could never tell, only he knew it when he felt it.

He walked to the top of a hill. The highest one in the woods. He rose his hands to the sky and sent out waves of frost. Small snowflakes fell about him, telling Jack his frost was on its way to places. Yawing, he saw that dawn was tinting the sky yellow. He walked slowly back to his home, crawled inside and curled up to sleep again.

Tomorrow he would awaken again and create more frost.



Sato felt warmed inside and out despite the rain hammering against the window. Sitting back in the over sized royal purple colored armchair, she carried on watching the wild wintry weather. Around her, the coffee shop was humming with soft voices, machines, people eating and drinking. The air was heavy with the smell of coffee beans, tea and cakes.

Wrapping her hands around the large red mug, Sato let her thoughts drift. She tried not to think too much about anything though; not her job, part-time studies, recent conversations with grandma, the breakup with her boyfriend. She thought about returning to Japan for Christmas. At least that would stop grandma complaining, but she still wouldn’t have anyone special to share Christmas Eve with.

Sighing, Sato looked into her mug at the light brown frothy top. The leaf pattern that had been drawn on top was almost gone now.

Just like autumn almost is, she thought.

Rising her head, she glanced around the coffee shop, which seemed as the weather raged outside to be too empty. There was only a few other armchairs and sofas occupied by single people or by couples. They all seemed quiet and reflective, just like her. Behind the counter, the two baristas were doing a quick clean up before someone else came in. Somehow, they were keeping their tasks quiet as if they didn’t want to disturb the peace that had settled in the air.

Sato turned back to the rain and condensation covered window. People were hurrying by tucked into coats and umbrellas. The wind was shaking the bus signpost and upturning everything it could. A car splashed through a puddle, sending spray everywhere and causing a man with a large briefcase to dodge out of the way.

In a better mood, she would have laughed at that. Instead, Sato felt slightly sorry for the man and sympathized with a near miss to her the other day. As she watched, he crossed the road and opened the door to the coffee shop. A blast of cold air and rain followed him. He went to the counter and began ordering.

A shiver ran through Sato then was gone. She un-crumbled her face and tried to go back to her thoughts again, but then she couldn’t remember what she had been thinking about. Shrugging, she brought the mug to her lips and taking a sip of sweet ginger spiced latte and let the world slide away.



As she handed the egg over, she knew he’d make the perfect father. It didn’t matter that he feared he wouldn’t right now because she felt within her heart thar once he saw the baby everything would be different. Letting her hands drop back to her side, she watched him staring at the cracks that were quickly forming across the egg.

Soon, she thought, we can put everything behind us and start a new life.

Yes, he repiled into her head, having overheard her thoughts.

She rolled her eyes then saw that the top was dropping off the egg. She drew closer, holding her breath as a small nose, large eyes and bronze colored scaly head rose upwards from inside the egg.

The baby dragon looked at them both. Made a little happy cry then hiccuped out a puff of smoke.

Photo ©Grantscharoff

Stormy Weather


It was autumn on the cusp of winter weather at it’s full force.

The cruel icy wind blew a gale not carrying what it swept away. The nearly hibernated trees lost all their remaining leaves and some branches as well as they seemed to hang on for dear life. The wind rattled doors and windows, seeping inside and spreading the cold further.

The rain coated everything, dripping and clinging where it could. Massive pools of water formed on the ground and ran down the sides of roads. Umbrellas and coats were defenseless against it as if the rain was determined that everything should be soaking wet.

The sky was dull grey. No sun or moon to be seen nor any cloud shapes to be made out. There was just a flat stretch of nothing reaching above a darkening, strangely quiet city.

I turned my eyes away from the window at last. I checked the fire was still roaring and had enough logs. Then went back to my book. For today was the perfect day for staying safety inside.

Reading For Love


Everyday on her bus journey to work, Jamie looked through the newspaper’s personal ads and love column searching for any mention of herself.



The twins stood before the old abandon house, holding hands and looking blindly upwards. In their heads they both remembered how things had use to be. Light, noise and warmth had once filled the building before them. There had always been laughter and music. People coming and going, the servants so busy and the twins had always listened on the staircase.

Standing in the overgrown garden now, the twins heard the bulldozers at the front of the house. Soon everything they had every known through smell, touch and taste would be gone and they would only have their memories left of a life they had once lived.


Out There


The sound of beeping woke her from her coma like sleep. Rising her head, she looked up and after a few moments realised she didn’t have a clue where she was. Sitting up fully, she found herself to be on the floor of a long straight corridor. There was a bright blue carpet underneath her and the walls were white and arching in shape.

She stood up, using the wall to support herself as her legs were numb and shaking. Wiping her hands on the blue jumpsuit she was wearing, she looked right and left. The sound of the beeping filled the air and the light was dim. Taking in deep breaths she smelt only smoke.

Where am I? In an old building? What’s happened? She thought.

Patting herself down, she checked to make sure she was fine and also what she had on her. In one side pocket she found a small fabric case containing an incomplete tool kit. In a front pocket was a thin rectangle of glass, which reminded her of a tablet screen. In a long pocket by her right leg, she found a sheathed dagger and a square white device that looked like a mini taser gun. It had a black wrist strap and a red button on the side.

She slipped the device on to her right wrist, even though she wasn’t sure how to use it, but feeling comforted by it’s presence. The dagger she put carefully back. Double checking she had nothing else on her, she looked about again. The beeping and smell of smoke continued, but she couldn’t tell which way it was coming from.

Deciding to go to the right, she set off and followed the corridor to the end. Along the way, she passed closed doors that seemed to have no way to open them. Coming to a stop at the double doors, she looked for a way to open them. There were no buttons anywhere. Then without knowing why, she touched her fingers to a small section of the wall and it came off to reveal a hidden circuit board.

Trying not to think about it, she looked at the flashing red light and the wires snaking around. Gentle, she reached out and and touched a few things. The red light went out, changing to green and the doors before her opened.

How did I know how to do that? she pondered.

She looked at the circuits again, but couldn’t figure it out. Stepping into what was a lift, she searched for a panel of buttons and something tell her where she was. There was nothing though and the oval pale white walls were bare. The doors closed and the lift moved silently up. She felt a flutter of butterflies in her stomach.

When the lift stopped and the doors opened again a few moments later, she peered around them. There was a short corridor ahead of her, ending in a control room.

‘Hello?’ she called out.

Her voice didn’t even echo. Stepping out of the lift, she walked into the room and paused. There were two large chairs in front of four joined together panels which were covered in buttons, lights, switches, screens, dials and English words.

‘A plane cockpit?’ she muttered aloud.

She slotted in between the chairs and looked down at the largest of the screens. Her fingers reached out and she tapped it lightly. The screen came on at the same time the view before her changed. Windows that had been blacked out opened and she gasped loudly.

Wherever she had thought she was got wiped away, as her brain realised what she was seeing. Before her in a vast darkness were pin points of white that could only be distant stars.

‘Space? I’m in space!’ she cried.

She took in a few deep breaths and tried to think.

‘How? Why? Who am I?’

That questioned buzzed around her head like a fly. Sinking into the pilot’s seat, she looked for any clues, but found nothing. Remembering the main screen she looked back at it. There was a blueprint of the spaceship and sections of it were flashing red for damaged. After a few minutes of studying the map, her brain decided that the ship wasn’t that badly damaged. Also, the fire that started in a storage area had been put out by the automatic system.

She looked at the controls again and debating what to do. A few of the buttons were flashing different colors, including one that said engine autopilot which was flashing red. She touched it. tThe light turned green and she felt the rumbling of engines coming to life.

‘What do I do now?’ she uttered.

‘Destination: Raydon,’ a female computer voice cut in, ‘route set.’

‘Oh…Where is that?’ she asked.

The large screen glowed and a 3D model image of a space system appeared before her. There were a few different round planets, stars and some other strange shapes. One of the planets was flashing.

‘I guess there’ll be someone there who might be able to help me figure out what’s happened. And I can’t think of anything else to do right now. Let’s go there,’ she spoke.

‘Course inlaid. Arrival time four hours,’ the computer informed her.

‘Four hours? Isn’t there anyone else on this ship?’ she cried.

‘No. Everyone evacuated,’ the computer responded.


‘Hull breach. It’s been temporary sealed.’

‘Will it be alright?’ she asked.

The computer fell silent and she watched on a smaller screen as ship blueprints and calculations went by.

‘Seal will fail in six hours,’ the computer announced.

‘We should be okay then….’

She trailed off and looked out of the window again. Stars were going by and she could just see the burning edges of a planet. She shut her eyes and tried hard to recall who she was. For a few moments, she felt it on the edge of her tongue then it was gone.

Someone out there will know who I am, she thought and then she settled back to watch space going by.



Who knew what was locked away in the tower? Everyday life carried on as normal and no one give the crumbling structure a thought. It stood alone in the middle of the forest. Raising up over the top of the green pine trees and looking across at the village.

Maybe the tower had once been a part of a fort or a castle? A building now lost to time and the nature. Perhaps it had always been a watch tower, built to keep the village on the edge of the forest safe and warn them of coming danger?

Whatever it’s original purpose had been the tower was long abandoned now. And it would have slipped from history if not for a single story that involved it. Two brothers traveling across the country discovered the tower and made inquires about it.

‘Why do you wish to know?’ the oldest member of the village asked them.

‘It is so unusual out there by itself,’ the first brother answered.

‘We were think it might have a good story connected to it for the book we are writing,’ the second brother replied.

The old woman looked them up and down in the firelight of her wooden shack. They were young men; handsome and strong, yet tried from their travels.

‘Here, have some broth and I shall tell you the story I know of the tower,’ the old woman answered.

Gratefully, the brothers accepted the warm bowls of broth and settled down to listen to the old woman’s tale.

‘It was a long, long time ago and the king had just had a baby daughter. There was a big celebration as the kingdom now had an heir. The next day his wife died and an old hag, claiming to be a witch came to the king and demand his daughter. She showed him a contract his wife had signed in which the queen had brought a spell to make her pregnant.’

“By rights,” the witch said, “The child is mine!”

‘The king fought hard, but that night the witch kidnapped the baby and fled to the tower. Everyone searched high and low, but they could not find the old hag or the baby. Heartbroken the king died and his kingdom fell into war then ruin.’

‘And the child?’ the first brother interrupted.

‘Was locked in the tower,’ the old woman stated, ‘the witch raised her there and taught her how to spin and make things. Later, the lost Princess learnt about herself from books. She begged the witch to release her and the witch told her that could only happen when the Princess’ true love came to rescue her.’

‘And did he?’ the second brother asked.

‘No. Of course he did not!’ the old woman snapped, ‘they say to this day the Princess’ bones are still resting on the floor of the tower. The door magically locked so no one can get in.’

The brothers fell silent and finished their broth. They thanked the old woman and left. As they headed out of the village the first brother turned to the second, ‘I want that story,’ he declared, ‘but I’m going to change the ending.’


Inspired by: with thanks.

Journals (Part 6)


(Please be aware this story contains adult sexual content.)

The week went by like lightening and the normal days were only broken up by me putting up gran’s house for sale. I felt a strange sense as I pulled up outside on Friday morning and saw the for sale sign in the garden. Getting myself and Freddie out of the car I walked up the house.

‘We won’t be able to do this for much longer,’ I told Freddie.

‘What?’ he demanded, his four year old mind not gasping my words.

I kissed him instead of trying to explain and unlocked the front door. Going in, the familiar smells had vanished under the heavy odors of cleaning chemicals. The estate agents had suggested we paint and varnish, but that would have been another few weeks and as a family we’d had enough. Gran’s house, the home I’d grown up in, had become an albatross around our necks and it was time to cut it loose.

‘We could move in,’ Dan had suggest the first time we had walked through together.

‘It needs a lot of work,’ I had added, ‘and up dating.’

‘There’s no wifi!’ Ty had shouted.

‘The bathroom sink tap still won’t turn off,’ Darla told us.

‘I think…it’s best we sell it,’ I had concluded.

And now it was happening. I walked from room to room, double checking that what we were leaving behind – old furniture and such- was fine to be left. In the kitchen, I got Freddie a glass of water and began opening the cupboards. They were all pretty much empty. I collected the mugs and drink making stuff we had brought with us.

At the door, I turned and looked back. How many hours had I spent in this kitchen whilst gran had cooked? How many birthday parties had there been a cake on that table? How many times had she sat and talked with her friends about my mum’s pregnancy and disappearance?

Something on top of one of the cupboards caught my eyes. It was a black box file. I put Freddie and the bag of stuff down and went over. I had to drag a chair from the table to stand upon to reach it. The file was heavy. I placed it on the table and opened it.

‘What’s this?’ I said aloud.

‘Don’t know, mummy. Let me see!’ Freddie spoke out.

I went and picked him up, swinging the file around the table to save me walking back to it. One handed, I looked through the mount of paper inside. There was a mixture of newspaper and cheap women magazine pages, handwritten letters, cards, notes and at the bottom….

My heart skipped a beat. The torn pages from the 1979 diary!

I gasped and tipped the box upside down.

‘Oops!’ Freddie squeaked then reached out for the scattering of papers.

‘No, darling,’ I told him gently and tried to hold him out of the way.


‘No,’ I said firmly.

I pulled back the chair and sit down with him on my lap. Trying to keep both his hands in mine was tricky. But I snuggled him against me and hummed softly. I sorted the journal pages out then setting them aside, even though it was hard to do, I looked through the newspaper clippings.

‘Missing twenty-two year old woman,’ I read one of the headlines, ‘police are searching and asking for information about Mary Winacott. Who was last seen at home by her mother the morning of Monday 23rd April. Mary went to work but never arrived. Her mother said Mary was spending the night at a friend’s, but she didn’t turn up. Mary has a young daughter. If you have any information connect the police.’

Below was a grainy black and white photo of my mother. She was smiling and her hair was pinned up. It was just her face, but I could make out a necklace around her neck and the collar of a dress. The photo had been blown up from one I had seen always on the mantle in the living room.

Freddie started wiggling and wailing to get down.

‘Okay. Okay. We’re going,’ I told him.

I packed all the papers back into the box and got up. I scanned the kitchen on last time, collected the bag I’d left by the door and turned to go. Juggling everything in my arms, I opened the door with my foot and walked out.

Freddie burst into tears, crying out words that I didn’t understand. I took him outside and set anything down.

‘What’s wrong, Freddie?’ I asked.

He sobbed, wiping his nose and face.

‘We’re going now. Say goodbye house. Goodbye granny,’ I told him.

‘No,’ he sniffed.

I dug a tissue out and wiped his face.

‘There. That’s better. You okay now?’ I asked.

He nodded, but didn’t seem so sure.

‘Let’s go and get lunch,’ I spoke.

I picked him up then reached for the box and bag.

‘No, bye bye granny,’ Freddie said.

‘Huh?’ I stopped.

‘No,’ he wailed into my ear.

‘It’s okay, Freddie,’ I soothed, ‘let’s go.’

Clutching everything, I went to the car. Freddie was still sniffing as I put him into his car seat. I put the box and bag in the boot and got in myself. With a last look at the house, I drove off wondering why I had asked Freddie to say goodbye to the house and granny when I had never asked him before.

It wasn’t until the next day I had a chance to go through the box. Darla was at the shopping mall with friends and I had talked Dan into giving her a lift and taking the boys there for the afternoon too. I had been craving some me time for awhile now and after I had done a few things I wanted, the box started to call to me.

Curling up on the sofa, some animal document on TV and a cup of green tea on the coffee table, I opened the box for the second time. I split the papers into piles; newspaper clippings, magazine cut outs, letters, cards, notes, photographs and the journal pages. Starting with them, the true story about my birth and my mother’s disappearance reveled itself.

All the questions and answers I had been asking and searching years for, came to light. Gran had known all along who my father was, she just hadn’t been able to fully prove it. The police had looked closely at everything they could, but they had been unable to prove it too or fully connect him to my mum’s disappearance. A body had never been found, but gran knew she was dead.

She wrote; I can feel it. My Mary is gone. I’m not sure how I know, but I just know. I keep praying they find her body, I want to bury her next to Jim –gran’s husband and my mum’s dad, he had died when my mum was about ten, an accident at work in a factory.- I need closure and so does Maya. She’ll want to know what happened when she’s older. I’m going to gather everything for her and keep it safe till the time comes. 

The writing ended. I moved on and looked at other pages and the other things. As soon as I heard the front door open, I scrambled up and flew into the hallway, the papers scattering in my wake. My family stood by the closing front door, weighed down by their shopping.

‘Mr. Bradwell is my father and he murdered my mother!’ I shouted cutting through their conversations, ‘gran proved it, but the police didn’t believe her as there wasn’t enough evidence! But now we can do it.’

I dragged in deep breaths whilst looking at the shocked faces of my children and husband. Then Dan broke the silence, ‘what do you need us to do?’ he asked gently.

The End

Journals (Part 5)


(Please be aware this story contains adult sexual content.) 

We got lucky on the next day as it being Sunday, both Ty and Darla decided to go around to friends for the afternoon. With Freddie watching cartoons and playing with his toys, Dan and I read through gran’s journals. Dan choose to start the year before I was born and I re-read my birth year one.

Close reading as much as I could, the detail gran had gone into about things amazed me. Not only did she written about what she had done during the day and what my mum and then I had done, she also wrote about what the neighbors and her friends had been up to. Also, about UK and world events. On 27th February, gran wrote about a rail workers and civil servant strike, 3rd March: IRA bombing London, 17th March: the opening of the new London bridge, 21 March: the flooding of a coal mine in West Yorkshire.

‘Didn’t you say that your gran had suspected one of your mum’s teachers of being your father?’ Dan broke in with sometime later.

I turned and looked up at him on the sofa. He was laying down, the journal open in both hands, his eyes on me over the top of the book. I was sat crossed legged on the floor, back to the sofa, just little way down from him. The journal before me resting against the edge of the coffee table, which was littered with drinks, snacks, the other journals and a couple of Freddie’s toys.

‘I believe so…’ I trailed, trying hard to think.

‘She writes here,’ Dan said then began reading from the diary, ‘Mary seems infatuated with her new history teacher, Mr Bradwell. When I asked her about him, she said he was twenty-four, just graduated university and taking over from Mrs Green who’s taking early retirement due to illness. Mary has never shown so much interested in history before! I hope to meet this Mr. Bradwell at parents evening in a few months time. Perhaps then though Mary will have lost interested in him.’

Mr Bradwell?’ I questioned, ‘I’ve seen that name a few times. I thought it was just a neighbor or a friend though. And I don’t remember gran stating his name when she listed my potential fathers.’

‘Did she write anyone’s name?’ Dan asked.

I thought for a moment, ‘I don’t remember. But it’s in here somewhere.’

‘Would you though?’ Dan mused, ‘if you were writing a list of men which accused them of getting your sixteen year old daughter pregnant would you put their names down? Okay, so the chances of someone reading your personal diary are slim, but it still could happen….Then she’d have been in trouble and the rumors would have further spread.’

I felt a shiver go through me as he said the first part of that. I saw Darla in my mind’s eye. How would I feel if my fifteen year old daughter got pregnant? Especially, if I suspected a new teacher at her school? I’d be a terrible mother. And yes, the times were different now, but still teenage sex and pregnancy happened. I felt an odd sense of history repeating and I sat for a few moments reflecting on this. Dan calling my name repeatedly snapped me out of it.

‘Maya? What’s wrong?’

‘I was thinking about how history repeats itself,’ I replied slowly.


I glanced at Freddie, he was still engrossed by the bright cartoon characters. I moved around, so I lent my side against the sofa and could hold hands with my husband.

‘I really hope Darla doesn’t make the same mistake my mum did. I’d hate for her to get pregnant so young.’

Dan breathed deeply and slipped the journal to the floor. He took my hands, lent over and kissed my forehead. Dropping his lips further down, I raised my head so our lips could brush.

‘It won’t happen,’ he breathed, ‘we’ve raised her better. She’s a sensible girl. Mature for her age and she’s seen how hard bringing up a baby is.’

He glanced at Freddie whilst I nodded.

‘Why don’t you talk to her about this, later? It’ll help set your mind at rest,’ he added.

‘I should.’

He kissed me again. Pressing harder this time. I let everything slip away and I got lost in the feel and taste of him. When the tip of his tongue teased my lips apart, I open my mouth and let him in. Dan pulled me into a tighter hug, one of his hands held my head and the other slipped down my back as I moved into a kneeling position to reach him better. I wrapped my arms around his neck, angling him down to me better.

Freddie laughing loudly ended the kiss.

I looked over my shoulder and saw him standing next to the TV, hands pressed to the screen. Rolling my eyes, I got up and went to him. I scooped him up with lots of loud kisses and tickles.

‘I got you, Freddie!’ I declared.

He burst into more laughter. I swung him up then around a few times.

‘I think it’s nap time,’ I said afterwards.

‘No, mummy!’ he shouted, pressing his hands to my cheeks.


I blew a raspberry with my tongue and set him off giggling. Then I bundled him upstairs and into his bedroom. Surprisingly, it didn’t take him long to settle down. I turned on the nightlight which also played soft music. I read him a book and tugged him in. Watching him dozing and falling asleep for a few moments, I felt a burst of love and pride. Freddie had been my miracle baby.

For five years after Ty had been born, Dan and I had tried for another baby. Then we gave up. We were a happy family and complete. I didn’t feel the need for another child. However, in the spring of 2012 I thought I had cancer. It was a strange moment and connected to my gran’s scare. Luckily, she never had it and it was a bad chest infection. I though was declared pregnant.

Coming home from that appointment, I was debating, just like my mother and gran had when they had found out, if I should get an abortion or put the baby up for adoption. I was thirty-nine, a still okay age for a third dose of motherhood and the gap between Ty and Freddie was only nine years. Dan and I talked for months about it, but in the end I decided to keep Freddie and I knew the second I held him in my arms it had been the right choice.

Coming back, I patted Freddie’s arm and left him sleeping. Downstairs, Dan had changed the TV to the Formula 1 Grand Prix and was watching it. The diary still abandoned on the floor.

‘He’s sleeping,’ I announced.

‘Good. I was getting bored of Dora,’ Dan replied.

‘Really?’ I broke into laughter, ‘I thought you had a crush on her?’


Dan gripped me as I bent to pick up the diary. I wiggled against him as we tumbled back on the sofa.

‘I joked one time!’ he added.

Twisting out of his hold and back on my feet, I put the diary on the table.

‘And I just can’t let it go,’ I finished, ‘did you find anything else?’

‘No. I stopped reading.’

I sighed and sank down onto the sofa.

‘Your gran was a great writer,’ Dan added.

‘I’m starting to realise. But it’s not getting us anywhere!’

‘I’ve had another idea…’


‘Next weekend, we’ll get the kids to help us and we’ll scan the journals into computers. Then we can search keywords. That’ll speed everything up. Okay, it might take awhile to scan all the pages, but it’d be good to preserve your gran’s writing anyway,’ Dan explained.

I looked at him, ‘you really think that could work?’

‘Yes. My computer and Darla’s both have printers that can scan. And we can easily buy a scanner to hook up to your or Ty’s laptop. Then we can get the computers to find words like your name or your mum’s name or missing or whatever. Then we can just read those sections and we should pick up more information,’ Dan informed me.

I nodded, ‘that might be good…’

‘Then we could pass the diaries on to some history buffs.’

‘Or the police,’ I added.


‘I love it!’

I threw my arms around him, hugging him tightly. Dan laughed then kissed me. I pressed my lips harder against his and moaned aloud. Dan arranged us, so that I was laying on top of him and was comfortable underneath. The kissing continued, our lips and tongues dancing together. Then Dan slipped his hands into my cotton pants and under my underwear. He squeezed my bum, gently at first then harder. He rolled his hips against mine, bouncing us gently.

I ended the kiss and dragged in deep breaths. I felt torn for a few seconds as really we should get back to reading or starting on Dan’s idea. But these moments were getting harder to sneak in with two teenagers in the house. I almost voice my thoughts, but then Dan was shifting me off him and rolling us over.

Dan pulled down my pants and underwear. I reached to undo his trousers and he helped me whilst we carried on kissing. I felt his hands on my breasts. Then he’s fingers were sliding under my top and bra. I gasped and moaned against his mouth as contact was made.

He mumbled, ‘God, I love you,’ in my ear.

I tried to say it back, but the words were lost in another moan as I felt his hardness in-between my legs. He pushed into me and though I tried to keep quiet, I couldn’t help it and an ‘oh’ sound come out very loudly. I wrapped my arms and legs around his body, as Dan pressed his hands to a space just above my shoulders. He moved slowly at first, kissing me often then he picked up the pace and sent us both over the edge.

After we curled up together and watched the ending of the Grand Prix.

To Be Continued…