My Clocking In System

Here’s the thing about Jodie Carter.

She cannot make a noise. She physically cannot. But she can say absolutely anything, at a whisper, an inch from your ear, in a voice that has not gone up one decibel, and she will not blush while she does it.

"You know what I want," she said, right into my ear, flat and calm as a woman reading out a shopping list. "I want your mouth on my cunt and I want you to stay down there until I can’t feel my legs. Then I want your cock in me on this stupid loud bed until that man next door puts a pillow over his head."

"Jodie."

"And you can put me on my front and do it properly, because I’ve been thinking about that since about Tuesday."

"Have you."

"I’ve been thinking about it since the cinema. You had two fingers in my pussy and then you stopped."

"I did stop."

"So go on," she said. "Sort it out."

I went down her.

Slow, because the whole of it was time. Down her throat and her collarbone. Her ribs, one at a time, with my hand still full of her tit. The soft bit under her navel that she has been aware of since she was 15 and that I have never once been able to leave alone.

And she got quieter the lower I went, which is backwards, and which is the entire problem with her.

By the time I had her knees apart she was making no sound at all.

She was soaking. Still soaking, 3 hours after Bernadette’s, the inside of both thighs slick with it, and I put my mouth on her pussy and she went rigid from the shoulders down.

She’d sat through a whole dinner like that. Opposite me. Eating potatoes and going on about Cheryl Boateng.

I licked up the length of her, slow, flat tongue, and settled on her clit and stayed there.

This is what I thought about for 11 years and never let myself finish the thought.

And she’s laid out on a £59 bed in a Travelodge with her hands in the pillow, and I could do this till it got light.

Crrrk.

Her hips went and the frame went with them, and after that the bed did all of her talking. Every time she moved it announced her, in a rhythm anybody in that corridor could have named from 40 feet off, and she gripped the duvet in both fists and let it.

I slid two fingers into her and curled them forward and found the swollen place inside her, the one I learned the first Sunday, and she came off the mattress.

"Ah, "

Caught it. Two syllables, maybe.

Her heel skidded on the sheet looking for purchase. Her thighs came in against my ears. Her stomach went hard and soft and hard again under my other hand, and there was a low sound going somewhere in her chest that never made it up as far as her mouth.

"Mmh. Mmh."

Breathing like a woman shifting something heavy. Nose only. Jaw locked. Nothing above a breath.

She does this on her own as well.

She told me on the phone. Ten minutes on her own clit in a cold bath and it did nothing for her, because it’s hers and her hands were cold and it’s not the same.

Nobody’s ever done this properly for her. Twenty-eight years old.

"Danny."

"Mm."

"Danny. I’m going to."

"Go on then."

"I can’t."

"You can."

"I can’t, I’ve never..." Her voice broke in the middle of it. "I don’t know how to."

I did not stop.

I left my fingers in her and slowed everything right down and put my chin on her thigh and looked up the length of her, and she had one arm over her eyes.

"Say that again."

"Don’t make me say it again."

"Jodie."

"I don’t know how to be loud." She said it to the ceiling from under her arm, with my hand still moving in her. "All right? I’ve never done it. Not once. Not with anybody, and I’m 28. I grew up in a flat with paper walls and my mum on the other side of one of them and I learned how not to, and now I can’t undo it, and it’s not..."

She stopped.

"It’s not that I don’t want to," she said.

I took her arm off her face.

"Right. Then we’re sorting that out."

"Oh, are we."

"Yeah."

"And how are we doing that, Danny?"

"Slowly," I said. "And you’re going to hate me."

I came up her body and she wrapped both legs round the back of me before I’d got there, and she was pulling at my shoulders, and her mouth was already open.

"Now. Do it now, I’m not, I can’t wait about while you, "

"Sit up."

"What?"

"Sit up. Come here."

I shoved back against the headboard and pulled her up astride me, into the middle of the bed where the frame did the least.

The frame went off anyway.

Both her arms came round my neck.

"Hello," she said.

"Hello."

I took hold of her arse in both hands and lifted her, and she reached down between us and put me against her, and then she came down on my cock in one slow drop with her forehead against mine.

Inch by inch. Hot and tight all the way, and she was so wet that there was nothing to it except the size, and I felt every part of that drop from the top of it to the bottom.

She got most of the way down and stopped and breathed out through her teeth.

The sound she made that time made it about halfway before she killed it.

"Ah."

"There."

"Shut up."

"That was nearly a noise, that was."

"I said shut up." She was already moving. "God. God, that’s..."

I let her set it for a bit, because she wanted to, and because I wanted to watch her do it.

She rode me slow with her hands in the back of my hair and her tits moving against my chest, and every single time I dragged a sound out of her she bit down on it a second in and swallowed it.

So I stopped helping.

I put both hands flat on her hips and held her absolutely still.

She went off like a firework.

"Danny, don’t, "

"Mm."

"Don’t do that, you know I can’t when you, " She was already trying to move against my hands and getting nowhere. "Danny."

"You told me about this."

"I did not, "

"On the phone. Tuesday." I held her exactly where she was. "You told me the bit you think about isn’t Sunday morning, it’s me having you on your side with my arm round the front of you and not moving. And you couldn’t get me to."

Her forehead came down onto my shoulder.

"I should never have told you that."

"No, you shouldn’t."

"Ohh, you absolute, " and she pushed down against my hands and got about a centimetre, and moaned into my neck, and it came out of her properly for once and she was too far gone to catch it.

"There we are."

"Shut up."

"That’s twice now."

"Shut up."

"Say something."

"What?"

"Out loud. In the room, at a normal volume, like a person."

"You are actually insane."

"That’ll do." I let her move an inch. Stopped her. "Something else."

"Danny..."

"Something else."

"I’m going to kill you."

Full volume.

Her own hand went straight over her mouth, and then she took it off herself, and looked at me with her eyes enormous.

"Again."

"I hate you."

"Louder."

"I hate you."

"Now tell me what you want."

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