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I glanced towards a couple in the back of a ute parked away from the bonfire but near enough to know the noises coming from them was sex. They may have been in a sleeping bag, but they were going at it. A couple of other guests gawked and two of the footy team applauded them on.
Judging by her moans, he was doing okay and after a sudden rocking of the ute, a cheer went up, as the horny couple cried out one last collective groan, and then the dude was thanking everyone for their encouragement. God, it was Doug. The woman with him giggled.
It shouldn’t be a turn-on. But it was, knowing and hearing what they’d just done while sitting beside Rosie. Fantasising that it could be us instead in my bed.
Someone walked up to us to say goodbye, and I shook their hand and thanked them for coming. I kept the blanket over my crotch, though, to save my dignity.
After the guest had left, Rosie turned to me, her cheeks flushed, and her eyes dancing in the firelight.
“We need—” Rosie began.
“Yes, we do,” I blurted. “We really do.”
We both laughed.
“Do you have condoms?” she whispered.
“In my room.” I shifted to ease the agony of my steel-hard cock against the very assertive pantyhose. They were called shapewear for a reason. “You first, I’ll follow. I, ah, have a little problem that I need to cover up.”
“Little?” she teased.
I raised an eyebrow. “A very big problem, I’ll have you know.”
“I’m looking forward to taking care of that problem very soon, birthday boy.”
I grinned like an idiot.
Rosie got to her feet. “I need to pee,” she announced to the crowd and walked off. I snickered at her attempt of playing it cool but no one cared or watched. Doug and his lady friend had joined the crowd around the bonfire again, as if they hadn’t given everyone a show.
I waited until Rosie had reached the homestead and then slowly got to my feet. When you have an erection pressed against a sequin mini-dress and you try to stand, it’s bloody uncomfortable and difficult. The blanket was best for concealing my raging hard-on and hurried back to the homestead.
As soon as I opened the door of my bedroom, Rosie was there, sitting on the edge of my bed, still dressed, biting her lip to contain her smile.
“Is it a concern that I am wildly attracted to you dressed as a female British pop star?”
I laughed. “Is it a concern that Doug rooting in a ute turned me on?”
Rosie laughed. “A grave concern. I thought you were turned on from feeling me up.”
“Mostly that,” I said, my voice gravelly. “Definitely that.”
“Perhaps you should come over here and I can help erase all memory of Doug’s indiscretions.”
I closed the door, took two strides across the room and kissed her hard on the mouth. Rosie’s hands disappeared under my shirt; her nails skimmed across my skin. I hissed in pleasure against her lips.
She tugged on my wig and threw it across my room, and then tugged on my dress.
“This needs to go, Ginger.”
I pulled it up high and found myself trapped. “I may need some help,” I muffled from inside the sequin bodice around my face.
Rosie’s hands settled low on my hips and I bucked in reflex. Fuck, her hands on me felt good. Being stuck in the bodice of this sequin dress was kinda sexy. Not being able to see what she was up to increased the thrill of what we were doing.
“I’m never going to be able to look at Geri Halliwell the same way after this,” she murmured.
Her hand snuck around to my butt cheek and squeezed, and I groaned.
“Get the side zipper, Rosie. And then I’ll do things to your body you’ll never forget.”
