I did as he asked, then fought a smile when he tripped over his feet trying to get his clothes off and watch me at the same time.
I bent to retrieve his trousers. 'You should fold these,’ I said, but before I could save his ironing job, he scooped me off my feet and tossed me on to his neatly made single bed.
'Don't waste time.' He plummeted on to me wearing briefs and socks and nothing else. He nuzzled my neck. 'Once is not going to be enough for me. I miss having you to myself.'
His words liquefied inside me like sugar over a flame. I squirmed down until his hot, humid crotch met mine. Cursing sweetly, he pressed me into the mattress so hard the springs creaked. His cotton-covered cock delved between my swollen lips, its warmth catching, its firmness a powerful inspiration. Wanting more pressure, I gripped the sides of the bed.
'Mm, Joe.' I heaved my body towards his, my face level with his shoulder. 'This bed makes me feel like I'm seducing a teenager.'
'Does it really?' His hand slid up my silky camisole to capture one breast. He squeezed the nipple between finger and thumb. 'I hope you enjoy making love like a teenager, too, because all the condoms are in your room.'
I groaned in disappointment. 'I could run up quick.'
'No way.' He underscored his refusal with a forward roll of his hips. 'I want my full thirty minutes and not a second less.' Craning his neck, he kissed his way across my collar bones - feathery kisses interspersed with delicate licks that made me shiver with delight. 'Shall I try to remember how it was?'
'How what was?'
To be a teenager, to see a naked woman for the first time.'
"That was so long ago, wasn't it?' I mocked, even as I tangled my hands in the thick, warm silk of his hair.
He hummed against my neck, a snippet of song. The sound vibrated through my nerves, tingling and pooling in the cache between my legs. I hummed back and he laughed. Then he lifted his head. His face, filled with humour a second ago, now held a look of tremulous expectation.
My breath caught. I always thought of Joe as vulnerable but this, this was the vulnerability of an adolescent boy, racked by unfamiliar desires, restrained by insecurity. 'Oh, my.' I fanned my cheeks, experiencing my own hormonal surge.
His bulging cotton briefs soaked up the sudden rush of moisture from my sex. The strength of my response embarrassed me. I would have hidden it, but we notched each other too intimately for that. I tensed.
'No,’ he said, his breath puffing hot against my ear. His shaft rocked deep into my vulva and I soaked him again. He kissed my cheek. 'When we're alone, we can play at any fantasy we want. It should turn us on.' He drew back and held my gaze. 'We both know what you would and would not do in real life.'
I locked my ankles behind his hairy, sinewed thighs. 'Do we?'
'Yes,’ he said, and slipped into character as easily as woman donning lipstick. He fanned shaky fingers across my upper chest, catching the spaghetti-thin straps, of my camisole on his pinkies. 'May I, Katherine? May I look at your breasts?'
'Where are your parents?' I whispered. He went very still. He must not have realised I wanted to play at being the same age. "They'll be gone all night. We have all night, Katie.'
'Then, yes,’ I said, my eyelids heavy with desire, my sex thrumming against his. 'Look at anything you want.' He caught his lower lip between his teeth and eased the lacy bodice down, baring my left breast, then my right. Light as air, he stroked the skin to either side of my nipples. They stood prouder at the touch, crinkling and flushing from areola to tip, so sensitive they hurt.
'Oh, Katie.' His mouth hovered over a lengthening crest. 'You're so pretty. May I kiss you here?'
My heart jolted as he took my nipple between his lips and teased it with the tip of his tongue, a gentle flicker, like a snake testing the air. I slipped my arms around him and cupped his shoulders in my hands, gentling the satiny skin that overlay his bunching muscles. He groaned against my breast and suckled harder, as if my reciprocation truly meant the world to him. His manner was so convincing - his breathless wonder, his hesitation - that I sank into the fantasy like a stone.
He would have been handsome at seventeen, a little skinnier, a little less graceful; sex-crazed, I'm sure, but too considerate to ask the girls he knew for what he wanted so badly. I wished I'd been his first time, his first girl. I stroked his shoulder blades, dreaming of how it might have been.
We'd start slowly, holding hands on twice-weekly dates, with maybe a hug and a peck at the end of the night. Months would pass before we'd progress to petting above the waist with all our clothes on. We'd live for the sound of each other's heavy breathing, live for our stolen moments alone. Afterwards, we'd masturbate like fiends and practise Frenching our pillows. Soon we'd be master tongue kissers, exercising our new skills under the stairwell at school, at the cinema, in the back of Joe's car. Or maybe Joe would forbid us the back seat.