"21 pages? Do we have enough ink for 21 pages?"
It's a rhetorical question. I know - I hope - that we have enough. My clunky old printer has been a stalwart for a while, handling both stuff-I-need-for-work and random-things-I-want-to-print with aplomb, despite looking like (and possibly actually being) something from the '90s. But it still guzzles ink at a tremendous rate, and thus I was somewhat worried that our request form for housing benefit (yes, really) would cut out halfway through printing. You can't submit half a claim, apparently.
Jilly couldn't reply, because she was giving me a blowjob; therefore, it was quite difficult for her to talk. This was something of a surprise - in fact, she suggested it as something of a joke to begin with - but since I was down with the idea (it's a bit of a cliché, being given a blowjob while doing office-related sundries, but if it works...), here we were, me printing out a housing benefit claim and her on her knees with my penis in her mouth.
You can't say our life isn't always uninteresting.
I took her hand and led her up to the bed, leaving my printer chugging away reels of cheap paper. Lying on my back, she recommenced what she was doing, before I asked her to stop.
"What do you want to do?" she asked.
"I..." don't know.
"I..." don't know what I want.
I cranked my brain into action. It took a while.
"I want to pleasure you," I said finally, "but I also want to come." The words fell out of my mouth as soon as I started thinking. Perhaps not too much of a dichotomy as it may seem. I mean, I'm sure we all know from experience that you can share pleasure; it's not one or the other, no matter what Japanese porn seems to be trying to tell you.
"You want to pleasure me..."
"...but you also want to come."
"Do you want me to come on you?"
We stripped off what remained of our clothes. My shirt ended up on top of a few sheets of housing benefit claim. She lay down in front of me, naked. I knelt up, looking down at her, my cock hard, pulsing in my hand, my head dizzy and heart racing.
Steadying myself on my knees (being thankful for my sense of balance, developed by standing on the Tube without hanging onto a pole), I started masturbating, quickly building up a sense of rhythm, recalling the one that I'd had from her oral sex a few minutes earlier. My eyes fluttered to a close as I felt my orgasm raising up, but not quite taking hold. I was ready, but not quite there. I needed, it seemed, another stimulus.
"That's so hot," she said. And that did it... immediately after that, I came, all over her stomach and chest. A split-second afterwards, my knees gave way, and I fell forwards onto her, feeling the warm, sticky mess over my abdomen as well.
There were a few minutes of nothing but heavy breathing and occasional spasms and kissing.
"Do you want a wet wipe?" I asked eventually, my body willing itself back into working order like The Bride's at the beginning of Kill Bill Volume 1.
I went over to get the box while my steam-powered printer ground to a halt. The silence was almost tangible, punctuated by her occasional light giggle.
"Do you want cashback with that?" I said, handing her a wet wipe.
It seemed like the right thing to say at the time.