Ah, remember the boy next door? I’d spend my days working or seeing friends and the nights I’d spend with him. The summer heat in Philly is quite brutal for my delicate British senses so I’d often be in just underwear or naked, nine times out of ten when he came home from work I’d have fallen asleep. This time we had the house to ourselves for a few days as the others were away visiting family.
It was a warm August evening, we’d sat out in the yard drinking Prosecco and inevitably we got a bit frisky.
