Suzy writes: 

We are one now. One address, one front door, one love, two keys.

It didn't take long to bring Amanda's possessions across the courtyard and into my flat. Now we each have our own rooms, which for me is essential. I get very fidgety in bed sometimes, and it's nice to have privacy. We'll both working from home for the foreseeable, working in our rooms, on our own lives. 

Amanda is planning to go abroad to study once the lockdown is eventually lifted. Neither of us wants to think about that. I keep forgetting that she is still a teenager, albeit in her final year. And in a few months, I will be in my thirtieth year. Neither of us wants to think about that either.

Amanda is just incredible. I love how she has turned the 'sin of lust' into a delicious virtue. She is open and honest and very explicit in her desires. Her eagerness to be held and be restrained during sex was a surprise. I love how she looks at me when that is what she wants, more than anything else in the whole world.

Sometimes, when we have slept apart, I wake up to the sound of a stifled cry that tells me my lover has just made herself cum. Then, hopefully, she will slip into my room and get in beside me and let me lick her while she is still hot and wet and fresh.

Our flat is quite warm, even at this time of year and so we don't wear very much when we are on our own. Amanda calls it her uniform, a tank top, no knickers and thick woolly socks. My version is a vast baggy jumper (my Dad's) and a similarly bare ass! We keep our dressing gowns close by, in case someone knocks at the door. (The Amazon guy mainly.)

We have become so used to this bottomless lifestyle that we find ourselves touching each other so carelessly, so naturally and so easily. Sometimes, when I am working at my desk, and Amanda brings me coffee, I caress her bare bottom and touch her sex without a second thought.

Most of all, I love sitting and watching as my Manda lies reading, a pile of books on the floor beside her. Her chestnut hair spread over the cushions, her knees spread wide and one hand resting between her legs, fingers moving imperceptibly. She is utterly gorgeous, and I love her so much.

This is how it is for us now, in our mutual isolation—Amanda with her coursework, me with my strangely detached job. 'Zoom' meetings, me in a sensible white blouse and jacket but nothing else! So crazy. And when work is done, we simply fall upon each other and make love wherever we happen to be at the time.

The kitchen seems to be our favoured trysting place. Amanda, perched on the worktop, her legs around my neck, or spread wide, like a star on the big oak table. 

Amanda's old flat was empty for a while. Until last Sunday, when a man took down the curtains and fitted Venetian blinds to the windows. The days of Amanda's magic theatre seemed over. But the girl had such a powerful longing to exhibit herself. Often I would look up to see her standing naked in the doorway—a perfect nude portrait.

I was sure that she would find a way to let herself be seen, in her nakedness, in her beauty.

Amanda writes:

I am happy.

My life seems so balanced, so perfect that I find it hard to contemplate any other existence. Suzy and I are so well matched. We both enjoy our private times, and both enjoy each other. Very much.

Each having our own rooms instead of separate flats suits us both, giving us the chance to watch each other, visit each other, surprise each other, and make love with each other—a lot. I didn't know it was possible to have so much sex. It's like we were made for it.

Yes, I am happy. And yet. There is a shadow lurking over our happiness. My course allows me to spend a year abroad. I signed up before I knew I wanted to make love with Suzy every spare moment. Just to feel her fingers on my bottom in those most casual of moments. To know I can dip my tongue in the smooth, soft, moist folds dispensing the nectar of goddesses.

So yes, I am happy, but also making plans to move away for a while. Suzy knows, she understands, and she supports me. How I love her. I tell her that I want us to email all the time, that I'll let her know everything, that I'll need her loving guidance. Should we buy each other a toy, so that we can love ourselves with the other's stand-in? I must remember to ask her.

I wander through my bedroom, touching little things, not sure what I'll take with me. My binoculars. I smile, remembering how it started, the fun, the fear, the anticipation, the fulfilment. I shall take them with me, and tell Suzy what I discover.

But right now, I need her again. Even though it's only been moments. I check my uniform in the mirror and go in search of Suzy, finding her in the kitchen. I glance at the table, but it's too full of things right now. Instead, I sidle up and let my fingers brush the soft warmth of her smooth bottom.

"I love you, Suzy," but even I can hear the sadness of impending separation colouring my voice.

Suzy writes:

The days are growing longer. Each day I watch the geese flying home after their day in the park and each day they leave a few minutes later than before. I'm in my bed. I am experiencing a bout of unhappiness. An 'episode' as my therapist calls it. 

My Manda is lying beside me, reading. Each time she reaches the end of a chapter, she turns to kiss me. 

"I will write every day," She whispers. Now I am in her arms, and my tears flow freely. Amanda knows all about these times. She knows when to leave me alone, when to be with me, when to hold me.

I love her so much. Sometimes, in the night I go to her room and watch her sleeping. The shape of her mouth, then a sigh and she turns, and I see the curve of her hip, and I love her even more.

Suddenly.

"Come and see!" 

Amanda wakes me, and she grabs my hand and drags me from my bed. 

"Look!"

She leads me to the window. I follow her gaze. There, across the courtyard, Amanda's old flat. And for the first time, the blinds are raised. Now we are both hiding behind our curtain like naughty schoolgirls. It's early evening, and a light is on and a woman in there, in silhouette. And she is naked.

We scramble for our binoculars. Yes, the woman is moving, maybe in time to music, she seems unconcerned that she is in full view. 

Amanda grabs me, her eyes wide with excitement. Now Amanda is naked too and standing at our window. The moment is electrifying. All the memories of our own first encounter come flooding back. Now I am naked, and Amanda is in my arms, and we are kissing and praying that the woman notices us.

Then, without warning, the Venetian blind is lowered. The woman is still dancing, someone else is there. And then nothing. I turn to my Manda, her neck and the top of her chest are flushed, her cheeks burning.

I kill the lights, and we make love on the living room floor. We fuck each other, wildly, both of us totally possessed with lust. Amanda's climax was almost immediate, mine followed and then we began again. 

Amanda wakes me in the middle of the night, and she strokes me until I come again.

Amanda writes:

I'm confused. Or torn. Or maybe just undecided. I'm not sure. That's the only bit I'm certain about.

Suzy is asleep again, breathing more easily now that she has enjoyed the release of another orgasm. They really are very therapeutic. It should be like the 'Five a Day' for fruit and vegetables, or daily exercise for at least twenty minutes; add a minimum of one orgasm each day.

Enough of my wandering mind. My wandering hand is bad enough as it strokes Suzy's warm softness while she sleeps. To the conundrum.

What to do about our neighbours in my old flat. I'm trying to decide if it was a deliberate display, or accidental. But Suzy and I both know that women don't exhibit themselves by accident. Not like that, anyway.

Okay, so she meant us to see. But why close the blinds? Didn't she like us reciprocating? I'm confused. And all that, again.

The day for me to leave is drawing noticeably closer. The closer it gets, the more desperate, frantic, and our lovemaking becomes frequent, descending into raw, uninhibited fucking.

It's fantastic. Suzy is so generous at accomodating my weird desire to be restrained during sex, to feel like I'm being used even though she could never really just use me. She is the most generous, kind and affectionate lover a girl could have. Despite my incredibly short list of actual sex partners, I am still convinced that I am right. Sometimes a girl can find the winning Lottery Ticket with one of her earliest purchases.

She stirs. I know that she is not entirely at peace, and I try my best to be available without crowding her. She liked the orchids. It makes me happy that such a simple thing made a difference. How will she manage when I'm not here for her?

I must keep my promise and write every day, sending her my love, thoughts, and tribulations. Should I keep a masturbation diary for her, so she knows? A record of when and how long for... how often and what I was thinking. Then score my orgasm out of ten. I want her to know that we are still One, though separated.

Rolling silently out of her bed, I go to that window and look across at my old flat; where it all started. Opening the curtain a hand's span, I place a dining chair in the gap, my binoculars conspicuously on the seat as a signal. I need to know if they want more.

Because if they do, I am ready.

Talking of ready, it's been a few hours now since Suzy, and I last made love. That's a long enough bout of celibacy, I think.

Back to bed. Back to Suzy.

I slide in under the cover and kiss my way up the back of her legs until I reach her bottom, and kiss my way all over it, revelling in her unique scent. It's time we went again.

To be continued.