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It tookanother couple of months to finalise everything. But me and Ali are now officially living together. Plotting, planning, and trying to become the best parents ever. There’s the odd benefit to our relationship, of course there is, but we’ve mostly stuck by the ‘boundary’ rules Ali set out.
We’re even. We take it in turns to cook, clean, shop. Behave like a real family.
We sleep in our own bedrooms. (Apparently making out all evening on the sofa with my hands in her knickers is okay—just as long as she gets in her bed and I get in mine—for the record, I’m happy with this deviation of the rule.)
Baby comes first. Anything baby related we share.
We don’t hold hands or act like anything other than good friends in public. We’ve still not told the label about Ali’s pregnancy, and it feels so good that we’re in our own little bubble, so we want to keep the lime light away as much as possible.
Date night once a week. (So far dates have included, dinner at a really crappy all you can eat, walks along the Thames, a trip to the London Zoo with me in a stick-on moustache and beanie hat and laying on the sofa eating homemade ice cream. Plus I’ve lost count of the series we’ve binge watched on Netflix.)
Talk, discuss, communicate, and do not fall into bed together even if we both think we really want to. (This rule I’m not so happy about!)
We’ve been good.We’ve stuck to the rules. Well, most of the time.
Okay…
Well…
There was the time I overheard her stressing about her new band being on the brink of break up. The guitarist had fucked the singer’s girlfriend. I gave him a call, told him his boys would always be worth more in the long run. We chatted, he seems like quite a cool kid if not a bit clueless, and when he got off the phone, he called Ali and said all was forgiven. She was so thankful, she kept asking how she could say thank you and with my tongue in my cheek I told her she could get on her knees if she really cared.
She did. Her lips wrapped around my hard cock? Fucking heavenly.
Then there was the time she trotted past my bedroom door in her dressing gown. And when I say dressing gown, I’m not talking about the type of flannel housecoat your granny wears. I’m talking about a bare slip of black satin. Barely holding her fucking cans in. I obviously had to investigate. She was practically asking for it! I spanked her arse, lifted her up and onto the kitchen island and spread her legs wide—I just had to taste every single part of her.
Oh, and the evening after we saw our baby again four weeks ago. Scan day. We made love that day. No questions asked we were both just so happy, elated that our little baby was healthy and growing nicely that the happiness radiated off of our bodies and, yeah, into my bedroom.
But apart from that. It’s all business. All boundaries. Oh, okay, and the time she caught me with my hand on my cock in the shower… I mean I might have left the door open, and I might have showered in the main bathroom rather than my en-suite, but she’d been walking around all day like sex warmed up. I had to do something about my blue balls. And if Ali wanted to help me out then I wasn’t prepared to stop her.
But apart from that… boundaries have been maintained. Even when the lines have blurred, we’ve always slept in our own bedrooms. Sometimes much to my disappointment. But we’re good. We’re so fucking good...
