ELEVEN
Doing as we shouldn't ought to be doing.
Ethel Poskit hooked her ankles around Joe’s legs again and then grasped his buttocks tightly, wanting to hold him deep within her, arching to meet his thrusts when, through the luscious mist of her ecstasy, she thought she heard noises, rustlings, footsteps. She froze, tapping Joe urgently on his back. ‘Joe! Joe! there’s someone here. I can hear some'at, somebody around, watching.’
‘What?’
‘Ssshhh. Listen,’ she whispered, ‘there’s someone nearby. I can hear them.’
Joe stopped in mid-stroke and listened … for all of five seconds. ‘Nay, you're dreaming lass,’ he said before thrusting deeply again and Ethel groaned with the sudden pleasure of it, clasped him close and was soon lost to the delicious insistence of his rhythm, feeling the clim
