When only Flowers will hit the Spot

After my amazing first night with Cleo, we breakfasted in our room and seemed to have slipped comfortably into that feeling that we’d been together for much longer…

Annoyingly, my phone started ringing at 0730, a client in Birmingham was having a crisis, even ahead of a scheduled meeting for lunchtime, could I go sooner.

Not too much drama, as Cleo had an audition at 11 and needed to go home to Shoreditch to change.

Over French toast and strong coffee we giggled and I got that warm rush of being with someone you quite like, with whom you’ve just had the luck to have great sex.

Unfortunately, within an hour I was in a First Class compartment speeding towards the UK’s very dull second city (second city? – bollocks, should be Manchester!).

I called a very nice lady at Jane Packer in Sloane Street, with whom I have built up an understanding since my sugar career began and with a brief text to give her Cleo’s address, a very large bunch of flowers were duly dispatched.

I settled into my seat as the train progressed towards Birmingham, only to be disturbed by a text from Cleo,

“So pleased you are my Daddy xxx”

Indeed I was and it felt great.


The Breakfast of Champions

The next morning was livened up by May deciding I wasn’t going anywhere until I’d fucked her again and not being up to arguing, I really did have to agree with her.

As the great James Hunt said, sex is indeed the Breakfast of Champions.

With our hangovers sated by a completely gratuitous fuck and half a packet of Nurofen, washed down by copious amounts of tea, we emerged blinking into the daylight.

May said that she would love to ask me if we could go back to the sugarbowl, but that as her next job was as a senior nurse manager at a hospital in Yorkshire, it might be a bit tricky.

I had to agree, so we settled on meeting up every month or so, when she came to London. I promised to put her up in a hotel, take her shopping and we’d just aim to have a bit of fun, which for the two of us together is never very difficult!

We parted with as the good friends and fuckbuddies we’d been before.

An hour later I was in a partners’ meeting, with an inane grin and a lingering, slight headache. I simply couldn’t get out of my head the image of her cowgirling me, shouting “I love your cock Daddy”…