Page 101 of Judging Duke

“Yeah, much better. Now where were we?” I gazed at him, wondering how I got so fucking lucky.

“Maybe it’s better this way.” Simon straddled me and lowered himself onto my waiting cock.

Deeper than before, he rocked back and forth, all the time stroking himself.

“One day I’m gonna fuck you, Duke, and you’ll love it.”

I looked up at his face, his eyes hooded, his cheeks ruddy from the exertion. As usual the veins bulged in his face and neck as he gave it his all.

“Soon, baby.” I struggled to speak, my legs bent, giving me the strength to thrust into him.

“Oh yeah. I’m almost there,” he shouted. I’d never had such a vocal partner.

He wanked furiously, his release finally hitting him, white spunk splattered my stomach and chest. It took me a momentlonger, but I made sure to fill his arse with as much of my semen as I could.

He raised himself up, letting the warm liquid drip from his arse onto my pubes. He knew it turned me on, seeing my spunk drip from him.

Once done, he rolled to the side and lay on his back next to me. “This never gets old.”

I had to agree. After fantasising about him for so long, the real thing was even better.

“You know, if we’d done this when we were younger, it wouldn’t have been half as enjoyable.” I didn’t remember sex ever being this good.

“Oh, I don’t know. An orgasm is an orgasm,” he said, still panting a little.

“That’s not what I mean. We’ve both had experience. We’re older now.” I turned to face him, trying to gauge his reaction.

“I doubt we’d be here if we’d have done this when we were younger. You’d be off, probably doing the same as you’re doing now, and I’d probably be an accountant or something equally boring. Instead, you were a prostitute, and I was a star in the porn industry. You couldn’t make it up.”

I laughed. He was right. “Sounds like the start of a bad joke—a prostitute and a porn star walk into a bar.”

“I wonder what the punchline would be?” His words slurred as they usually did after sex. It always surprised me how quickly he’d fall asleep.

“And they all lived happily ever after? Too cheesy?”

Gentle snores came from his direction, and I gazed up to the ceiling, wondering how the hell we’d got here. It had taken us long enough, but it felt right.

Right here was home. Right here in Liverpool. Right by Simon’s side.

EPILOGUE

A YEAR LATER

Iforgot how beautiful it is here,” Simon said, his arm draped around my shoulder as we stood on the terrace of the house in France.

Not nine months after Barbara had died, Cyril passed too. Seemed life without her was too much for him to bear. The call had come one afternoon from his daughter, and we’d flown out again for his funeral, watching him being buried next to his darling Babs.

It was much quieter than her funeral, but it was just as fitting. Many of the same people were there, except Troy was alone. He and Finn weren’t as compatible as he’d thought, and his husband had left him for another man he’d met on set.

As we were about to leave, Cyril’s daughter called us over and thanked us for coming.

“We’re so glad you came. Both Dad and Barbara spoke fondly of you both.” She’d handed me an envelope. “They wanted you to have this. Open it here or back at the hotel, and please keep in touch.”

She patted my arm and walked away, leaving Simon and me wondering what the hell was in the letter.

“Do you want to open it now?” He’d held my hand as we made our way back to the car, giving me some comfort.

“Let’s wait until we’re at the hotel. I’m too nervous to do it now.”

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