White Lies by Rachel Green Page B

surviving long on the dole.”
    “I think you’ll be surprised.” Meinwen went into the hall. Weak, gray light filtered through the semicircle of glass above the front door. “What about the front door? Does anyone have a key to it?”
    “The lock’s been painted over for as long as I can remember. You can’t open it from the outside unless all three bolts and the deadlock have been disengaged. I’ve only seen that door open four times in my life. Three funerals and the day mam bought a new carpet for the bedroom upstairs.”
    “Front doors were for best.” Meinwen patted his shoulder. “It was the same in our street. Front doors were for weddings and funerals and if the Queen was visiting.”
    “You said that right.” Jimmy leaned in toward her.
    Meinwen half smiled but seized the moment, pushing herself forward and up to meet his lips with her own. He tasted of tea and tobacco, soap and a tang of aftershave. His lips were far softer than they appeared, a contrast to his afternoon stubble rasping across her skin like the ribs of a vibrator. She reached up to pull his head further, forcing his lips open with her tongue to taste the warm interior of his mouth. How many cocks had he sucked in prison? His kissing technique was far superior to the few men she’d been out with in the time since she’d moved here.
    She felt a familiar dampness in her cunt and guided his hand there to feel it for himself then ground against his palm in the semidarkness. The smell of damp and wood polish took her back to her teenage years, flinging away her virginity in the kitchen passage of the Methodist Hall to a boy who played the trumpet in the marching band. She pressed her free hand to Jimmy’s groin, feeling his cock strain against the fabric and with a deftness she would have sworn she was incapable of, had unbuttoned and unzipped the denim in a moment, fishing inside the boxers to free the tumescent cock.
    Running her palm across the tip assured her Jimmy was more than ready, the sweet scent of precum overpowering the damp as she spread it over her palm and around the shaft of his cock. A practiced wiggle allowed her to hitch up her skirt without having to let go of Jimmy’s penis and she hooked down her knickers with her little finger, widening her stance for easy access as she guided him inside.
    “Oh fuck...” Jimmy’s voice was the voice of the trumpet player, hot and ready.
    Meinwen, her hand free once more, used it to cup his testicles, the scrotum hardening under her soft squeezes. “I’m going to come.”
    Jimmy’s declaration was interspersed with gasps as he fought for breath. Meinwen ground herself against him, releasing his balls and his head grab hold of both buttocks. She could feel him ejaculating inside her, could feel his cock pumping from the base to the tip, where it mixed with her own juices and forced itself downward from the pressure.
    She wouldn’t let him go. She was so near to orgasm herself she clamped her hands on his arse and ground her clitoris against him, until she felt the crest of the orgasm and rode it, the only outside indication of it a slight tremor in her hands. Satisfied, she released him, a trail of semen following his cock as it slid out. She caught it in her hand before it had a chance to stain her skirt.
    She looked up at him, unable to hold back the grin. “A tissue?”
    He smiled back. “Bless you.”
    Meinwen laughed. “No. I need a tissue.” She held up her hand. “Unless you want to lick it off.”
    “Oh, er...” He hesitated for long enough for Meinwen to know he was debating it. If she ordered him he probably would. She allowed herself a small, inward smile. Submissive then. He hadn’t been the Mr. Big of the prison wing. Not politically, anyway. “There’re some kitchen towels...”
    Meinwen returned to the kitchen, located the roll, wiped and washed her hands. She had the delicious sensation of heat radiating from her clitoris. She’d only have to touch it