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“Text him,” I said.
She did. Two minutes later the front door opened, and Fiona took my hand and led me downstairs naked.
Ross was standing in the living room, shirt half buttoned, looking terrified. “Cal. Mate.”
“It’s fine,” I said. “Show me.”
Fiona lay back on the sofa and held out a condom. Ross rolled it on and knelt between her legs and slid into her. She gasped. I sat in the armchair and watched.
But he’d been sitting in a car for twenty minutes thinking about this. He lasted barely three minutes, gripping her hips and groaning, pumping hard. Then he collapsed on her, panting, spent. Fiona hadn’t come. She was flushed and frustrated and laughing.
“Sorry,” Ross gasped. “Sorry. Car. Thinking.”
“It’s fine,” she said, patting his back.
He left again shortly after, mortified. Fiona came and climbed into my lap and I fucked her in the armchair, hard and fast, and she came on me with her face in my neck.
“That was hot,” she said afterwards. “Him in me while you watched.”
“Three minutes of hot.”
“Three very hot minutes.” She kissed me. “But we missed the best bit, didn’t we? The part where I was going crazy for him. You were upstairs for that.”
She was right. I’d been late to my own fantasy.
Ending 13 of 16: Late to the Party. Go back and try a different choice for the full happy ending.