On the couch

I met him at a concert a few nights earlier, we were hot for each other but he’d disappeared early – he’d drunk too much and didn’t want to embarass himself. I was a bit glad. I was nervous after many years of not fucking anyone.

But he’d given me his number, so I got the courage and organised to hook up on a Sunday afternoon. I was super new in town, knew about 3 people, so felt the freedom of anonymity. He had been there for 10 years, so he suggested we go to the big park overlooking the city. 

We sat for a while, talking, overcoming the nerves – he whistled bird noises when he was nervous. I thought it was because we were in the park, but it continued when we walked back to the city centre.

I invited him home. My housemate was away, so I wanted to take advantage of the privacy.

We grabbed a bottle of red on the way home and eat, nervously, like teenagers playing at adults. He drinks faster than I know he wants to.

As soon as we finish eating, he leans over and kisses me. It’s awkward, but gentle. He’s shaking. I’m not, but am nervous as fuck.

Believe me, fuck is nervous.

The undressing is slow – lots of kissing, lots of gradual taking of clothes. His warm skin is so warm and we stay on the couch outside – it adds to the sexual tension. I know that no-one can see us, but the sounds of insects and neighbours washing their dishes heightens our senses and everything feels amazing. My nipples, bare to the night air, are so hard it hurts.

I climb up on him, looking down at his lovely face and I realise that, even after years, it’s just like it used to be. Like riding a bike.

Seriously, that’s what i think to myself as I slide onto and start riding his firm, slightly-large and wonderful dick.

I remember how good this is – damn, it’s like riding a bike! I think. And  have to stop myself from laughing out loud at my own ridiculousness.

I pay attention again and get caught up in the rhythm of fucking. We run out of room, he has to lay down on the couch and I stay on top. We switch a couple of times – give each other some fun in moving it around. And then we head in for the home stretch. I’m back on top, all the while thoroughly enjoying myself, him and we come. Together. 

I don’t even know him all that well, but we hold onto each other for a full minute in mutual ecstasy. It was beautiful.

And then, as i come back into real time, I realise with glaring clarity that I now want him to leave. I just want to have a shower, go to bed and not see him again.

I don’t have any shame. Nor do I resent him – I enjoyed myself, but, despite the nice chatter, I only want to fuck him for that one night and I don’t want him to stay.

He starts holding my hand, wanting to snuggle and I turn cold. I feel awful, but I just don’t want to get close to him. I tell him that I think he should leave now. I call him a cab and I give him a twenty to cover it.

I repeat to him that I had a nice time (I really did), and I greatfully shut the door on two confused faces.

American Boy Part 1

He was young. Too young. Only in London for an exchange semester during the summer and hot to trot.

We met the first time in a pub near Smithfields Market. He was late and got me to buy him a drink. Great start, huh? He moaned about his course, his parents, the papers he had to write and pretty much everything. But he was cute. 

We left the pub and walked around Clerkenwell. He told me we couldn’t go back to his as he had roommates. So it had to be outside. We passed dogwalkers, couples, parties, cyclists and cabbies on one of the most beautiful walks I’ve ever been on.

Dusk was falling and he led me to a beautiful park I’d never been to before. Considered planting and climbers trained to grow up screens, arbours and undulating verges. We sat on a concrete wall and he started to kiss me. I suggested we move to a bench. His cock was hard already through his board shorts and he adjusted it as we settled down on the bench. Dusk was falling and the temperature dropped.

We kissed and I turned away from him at a noise nearby. Next thing I knew, his cock was out of the shorts and he encouraged me to pay it some attention. I needed none.

The bench was awkward so I ended up kneeling on the springy child-safe floor of the park, grabbing his cock and guiding it into my mouth hungrily, in the half light of the evening. Noises from the nearby tower blocks floated past, as did people over the other side. Each time I stopped, we both looked around and then I carried on. 

He came pretty quickly, with little ceremony. Maybe a grunt? He walked me back to the tube and we said goodbye.

As I weaved my way through the people, I had clocked him. Mostly his eyes, which had bored their way through me, full of lust. But he was the security guard, so I didn’t pursue it.

I felt awesome – tight jeans, fly red patent leather high-tops, off-the shoulder kind of vibe. And loud house music.

I need to dance, so just hit a corner and zoned out – body moving to the steady thump. Hadn’t really felt a vibe from anyone else in the club, but it was cool.

Occasionally, he was slither past, looking me all the way up and down, I returned the favour, fearless because I figured him out of reach.

Security guards don’t get to touch the clientele, do they?

I kept dancing, took a break upstairs, outside for some air, and considered leaving. In my peripheral vision, I saw him casually check the crowd outside. I acted like I hadn’t seen him. He acted like he wasn’t looking for me.

But round two on the dance floor was charged. I sought him out a couple of times, made sure I didn’t really let him pass easily as he was doing his rounds through the crowd. 

Then he disappeared.

The music was getting a bit shit. It was 4am by this stage, so i grab my things and head up to leave. I was like – eh, he’s the security guard, he’s gonna be hands-off.

As I’m leaving, he meets me on the stairs. All up close,

‘you’re not leaving are you?’

My breath stopped my rhythm for half a second, while I paid extra attention to getting words out of my mouth.

well, i was going to, but..

‘Stay. I finish at 5.’

He finishes 15 mins early and all the security staff are chipper – wishing him well and giving him a hard time for leaving early.

I grab my jacket and bag from my scooter and double lock it, leaving it outside the club.

I jump in his car and drive to his place. Music loud, we sing along to Tosh, I’m nervous as shit,

‘girl, you’re sitting in a stranger’s car, in a city you don’t even live in and you’re about the fuck the shit out of a security guard’

‘yeah, i know’

That’s my head.

He’s got an hour before he has to leave for his next job.

We get to his place and it’s bare. He’s already made excuses about recent ex, blah, blah, blah. I promise him that I don’t care. It sounds callous, but I don’t.

We get in the room and he jumps on my shirt – up, over the head, and suddenly we’re both naked and on top of the cover – leopard-print fleece thing. The TV is on, but the sound is off – for light only.

We have a brief squabble about the fucking condom – he can’t find one and starts the pleading for without. I’m not even kidding.

But he gets one and goddamn it’s good. He fucks hard and he holds out. And it’s not vanilla. I ride him for a bit, then he flips me over a thousand ways, my leg is somehow up in the air and he’s seriously going for it. It’s blowing my whole mind. I’m loud as hell and we’re gone.

Wham, bam, thank you ma’am. And it’s good. I’m exhausted and flushed.

We jump up, have a shower together – he’s hard again already, hands all over me, soaping each other, but mindful of the time.
Jump in the car, speed down the motorway, asking slightly deeper questions of each other in the 10 minute trip. He drops me next to my scooter, we kiss deeply and he drives off.

I ride home, slightly sore, but smug at having been properly got.

Less than 20 minutes

This guy was a type. The type that sends you #dickpics. The type that asks how naughty you are. The type that you meet on an Internet dating site. The type that you probably shouldn’t fuck at all.
Unbelievably it was a long “courtship” of around 6 months. We both clearly didn’t care enough to actually meet up. Dirty emails, #dickpics, a long metaphor and many puns about sailing later, I was on the way to his house. 
Yeah yeah I know, dangerous. I wanted an adventure that sunny Sunday – and I wanted it to start in my pants.

There was some urgency to the proceedings as he’d mentioned he needed to leave at 2.30pm. I must have got there just after 2. Sweating and flustered I tried to look normal and not like a mad woman. 
He answered the door as if I was an Avon caller or a Dominos delivery, but led me upstairs. His room was huge and goddamn stuffy. I asked if he could open the window as I wiped beads of perspiration from my face. 


I think he asked if I wanted some water so I was alone in his room: noted the computer screen with several messages to and from different women, the bills ready to be paid. Nothing about this was sexy. 
He had no charm, no talk, it was perfunctory and I couldn’t see how it was going to get hot. 
I think I said – I’ve never done this before – at which point he twisted me into a kiss. I’d love to say it felt awesome an sexy but it didn’t. 
Somehow our clothes fell off and there I was taking his – actually normal sized cock in my mouth.His pictures had made it look like a Land of the Giants beast. It wasn’t.


I was enjoying myself until the hand came on the back of my head pushing me harder to it. Something I pretty much despise. I pulled up. Stared him in the eye with my hand in my pants, wanting him to touch me there. 

Instead he went for my tits, greedily sucking on them and playing as if they were his. I grinded on him a little and longed for him to pay my cunt some attention. 
Lick my ass he said. 


Reader, I did.


He fucked me from behind, came quickly and that was it. I didn’t come, and as I checked the time realised the whole shebang had lasted around 15/20 minutes.
We shared some dreadful small talk about Scotland and off I went, for Sunday lunch at my favourite pub.

Sat at the bar, eating a roast dinner with the taste of his cock still on my lips.

Cup of tea, love?

I went out looking to get laid, out of revenge. I wanted some hot wuk. So I went to the club and danced with a few dudes, it was pretty ace. He was just sitting, chilling – not bad looking, pretty good rhythm. Way too tall for me, but hey. I didn’t care.

He sat and i wined on him all night, he was hot, sweaty, I was aching. Towards closing time, he said, ‘How about we go back to my place’. Yes! Great idea! I practically panted.

We spilled out of the club, both of us dripping wet in a -3 November early Thursday morning.

Where do you live? East london. Me too. 

So we get on the night bus, which took forever. He was a merchant banker. MBA – another one. We talked business and economics – something I find dead sexy. Turns out he was loaded – I wished he paid for a cab.

We get all the way to his place after all the chatter and all the night bus gaff and the first thing he does is offere me tea and toast.

Say what? 

Toast. And a cup of tea.

No hot kissing as soon as the door is shut, no desire to rip my clothes off. But TV and jam on my toast.

I thought maybe he lived with other people.

‘This is all your place?’ i say

Yup?

‘Cool’..

He goes to the toilet for like, ever, probably desperately searching for condoms, and I’m watching bombs go off on CNN, eating white bread toast with too much jam.

My fingertips are sticky, but not in the way I was hoping for.

Once i’m done, we creep up to his room. He keeps the lights off and we fuck. In the dark. Like a married couple in trouble. Wet. But not in the way I was hoping for.

It’s OK, to be honest. I’m glad for the physical contact without the connect, but he comes quickly and falls asleep straight away.

Either the talk of business and politics was a mad turn-off, or he’s still getting over the married vibe and forgot what hot lust was like.

Silently rebounding.

I was tired, so I slept in his bed the night through. Again, grateful for the warmth and the vague sense of someone else in the bed.

When i said goodbye in the morning, he had to let me out the door.

On the front step, I thanked him for an enjoyable night and he was awkward – said ‘er.. i’ll be home after work late, i guess’.. he had heard something else entirely. Something about seeing him again tonight. 

‘i said ‘thank you for an enjoyable night” and smiled. hoping it was clear that i had wanted nothing from him.

I walked off, pitying his assumptions about me, thankful that we didn’t even exchange names.

Farewell Fuck

It was a goodbye shag. I’d only been dating him for 2 months and we’d been split for over a month but I really couldn’t get him out of my head. It was terrible, the worst kind and I knew he was really bad for me. 

He’d already blown me out of our planned meet and that was before I found out he was seeing someone else ALREADY. Git.

He called me at 5.30am on Saturday, aggressive, high and drunk. He told me he’d pay for a cab to his, said he had the money. I refused. He said he wanted to chat. I doubted that. He was high and horny, I’d wager. He suggested he come to mine. I said no. I ended the call and ignored his calls. 

20 mins later he was at the door. I was pretty scared and shocked that he’d bothered, but also massively turned on. We sat, I made tea, he commented how I had a new rug. It was ridiculous. He asked for a hug, I hugged him then tried to pull away. He nuzzled at my neck. A switch went on in my head, I felt nothing.

It was freezing downstairs so I suggested we go to bed. I think he went faster up the stairs than I did. And then began that dance – pretending not to want it but wanting it. Not removing clothes. His cock was suddenly outside his pants, his hands were all over my ass, gently, softly teasing me. I was a wet sopping mess but he didn’t touch me there.

I climbed on top. Kissed him like he always wanted to be kissed, all over the mouth, teasing, sucking. I could have come right there and then I was so turned on. His hands went up my nightshirt. “oh god your tits are so fucking fantastic” I smiled to myself and thought ‘yes, yes they are’. He bit me hard, right on the tit. I wanted to slap him but wasn’t brave enough.

He pulled me up to his mouth. I came instantaneously at the first flicker of his tongue there. I stayed riding his face until he was covered in my come.

I slid down to his belly. He was harder now than before and I inched him inside me and rode him like a donkey. It felt so so good to be fucking this guy who had hurt me so much. I knew he wouldn’t come so I teased him, whispering his name in his ear and telling him to fill me up. He couldn’t of course, he was high as a kite. I came again, a delicious orgasm during which I didn’t even make a sound. We spooned for ages, him fumbling around my ass and pussy, me falling asleep in a delirious revenge.