It was in the days when I wore a suit to work, the beginning of my career. I’d been on a residential sales course for two weeks with a bunch of similar thrusting young executives.
We stayed in a hotel together, drank together and became close. Some of them I kept in touch with for years afterwards right across the UK.
In the weekend between, most people went home. I stayed and went cycling with a Dutch boy. But nothing happened.
There were three of us from the city. He was tall, well built with blond hair. He was arrogant and opinionated but oddly attractive. She was Irish, quiet and mousy – exactly the opposite of him.
There was a night with flaming sambuca s and shots – maybe we were celebrating the end of the course, I can’t remember.
I continued to meet up with both of them on my return home. I can’t remember how it happened, but I started sleeping with the guy.
It was always at his, I was never prepared for the stopover and often went into work the next day in the same clothes.

One night he decided he wanted to try anal. I agreed.
There was no lube, no preparation, no gentle teasing, none of the stuff you’re supposed to do. I wasn’t in love with him. I didn’t really care about him at all. It was quite perfunctory.
Despite being such an arrogant twat, he actually had a narrow cock. It seemed to fit quite well into my ass and he certainly enjoyed himself, filling me with his cum.
I don’t remember any pain, it being uncomfortable or actually pleasurable. We did it doggy style.
All I do remember about it is not being able to find my knickers in the morning, and having to go commando. The embarrassing bumping- into-his flatmate as I left. I felt disgusting, but I also loved it.
I still went out with her regularly for drinks. Found out weeks later he was fucking her as well. Except she had refused anal.
Lucky me.