The Airbnb Host

He looks like Bradley Cooper. That’s all we can think of as we sit across from him with a drink. The eyes and the nose are exactly the same and they sparkle and flash as he tells me his filthiest experiences.

He’s wearing a shirt, possibly denim with chest hair poking out of the top. His shoulders are square and he looks buff, in shape. It’s all a little too good to be true. How old is he again? Thirty-something.

As we trip out to his flat, he asks me something about doms. I tell him I’m a switch and we high five. Is this for real?

We walk down the high road and turn off behind a Sainsbury’s. There’s a small entrance and a flight of stairs leading up. He unlocks a door and peers through the window. Nobody. His guests are still out.

He leads me into a kitchen lounge area , sort of 90’s vibe with a glass top table and a terrible generic print of boats in Thailand. I notice a state of the art hoover and ask if it’s any good. He tells me it’s stopped charging. And then I catch eyes on another one behind the sofa.

I ask for a glass of water and he hands it to me. And then kisses me. I’m pushed against the arm of the sofa and it feels nice to be wanted again.


We move to the bedroom. He’s got a full length mirror opposite the bed (oi oi) and the bed is a high one. I wrestle with my boots, he pulls my tights off and immediately goes to kiss and lick my pussy.

Is this for real? I notice another hoover in the corner – ah well at least he’s clean?

He slowly pulls down my knickers and I giggle. And off he goes. Except he doesn’t. I don’t really feel very much until his fingers start to open me up and my juices flow. He waggles his fingers inside me and I feel my juices flow, and writhe with pleasure. I reach down for his cock and take a lick. His pubic hair is soft and downy, his frame is actually tiny. He is very slim and small – how did I not notice this?

Soon he is pumping his entire groin into my mouth which is more than I bargained for. But totally hot.


He slips on a condom and we start to fuck. I’m not really sure what his technique is : let’s call it the hammer. He grits his teeth, okay imagine a small Bradley Cooper gritting his teeth, and pumps for England. I can’t get purchase – I can’t even really feel anything. Jesus.

And he’s popped out…but he can’t tell and keeps pumping. I’m beginning to wonder if all his Lothario stories are codswallop.

I flip him back inside and continue to try and make things work. Very soon I realise he ain’t hard at all.


This is the third guy in a month who’s had this trouble. Booze? Drugs? Me? It’s got me wondering. What happened to the guys who fuck all night. Is this an epidemic amongst 30 year old men? Should I be submitting this data for a study?

We lie side by side and I notice a printed A4 sheet on the wall:

1. headspace

2. Stretch

3. Floss

I ask what it is. He tells me it’s a reminder and that he’s not doing so well on any of them. I wonder what his recovery programme is for.


I try sucking him but it’s pointless. I hate the taste of a condom but I’ve got to show willing. We chat about this and that and after a while he’s hard again.

I mount him and ready myself to be in control this time. But he literally hammers me from below. It’s so wrong it’s almost right. I ask him if he finds it’s a turn on that his guests might come back while we’re in flagrante- he says no “you haven’t seen them”… so I don’t let on that I am hugely.

I’m also finding recently that my wonderful breasts are ignored. I hate to swing them into someone’s view on purpose but hey, shoot me – I did. He gets the clue and clutches them.

And again within about 5 minutes he’s lost it again.

This kid is blaming it on smoking 10 cigarettes 2 days previous.


As I pull on my tights, the front door clicks and he leaps up. I guess it’s bad timing as he now has to smuggle me out like a hooker. He whispers me to wait and goes to investigate.

I survey the items on his chest of drawers- a scouring pad, Glade and a bottle of Hendricks. Almost a serial killer.

He comes back in and beckons for me to follow him. I’m expecting him to leave me to get down the stairs myself but he’s walking with me back down the main road. I’m confused – are we carrying on at mine?

He walks me to the bus stop – 7 mins – and tell him not to wait. But wait he does. It’s freezing and I have nothing more to say.

I’m absolutely puzzled by this boy. So it’s a relief when the bus comes and I get on it.

The Enterprise Consultant

He meets me at the tube stop just in case I get lost which is a lovely gesture. I freak out when I see what I think is him, luckily it isn’t.

But, his photos are four years old and he aged since then. There’s a paunch but he has dressed up at least.

We grab a quick drink in the bar and he reminds me the spa closes at 9pm.


We’ve been teasing each other all day so by the time I remove my knickers and change them for the bikini they are wet. My whole crotch is throbbing. I go and pee and try not to look like a whore as I giggle in the mirror to myself.

I open the door to the spa and immediately my glasses steam up – I can’t see a thing. It’s like a damn sauna in there! I can see a woman in the “pool” which is quite small and he’s lying in a nook/bed type thing. I lose my specs and follow him into the pool.

There are jacuzzi jets , and metal bars formed to make a kind of bench in the water. I sit beside him and worry about my makeup sliding off my face in the heat, my hair frizzing up and what the fuck am I doing?

Very soon we are kissing, and I’m straddling him. I can feel his erect penis through his shorts and it gives me an immense rush. I become wanton, touching myself, touching him, devouring his mouth with mine. Another couple get in the pool so we calm down.

This is the craziest thing I’ve ever done but it’s so good I can’t stop. I love the water and being in it with someone who wants to fuck my brains out is too much. As I snog his face off I try and remember if I’ve ever fucked in the water and I come up with NO.

He grabs at one of my breasts in the bikini, I grab his dick through his shorts. I really want to fuck him, despite the fact he looks about ten years older and fatter than me.


Of course we can’t stay in there forever. He’s been a total gent and not even pulled my bikini off.

We slip back to his room on the same floor in our fluffy robes and he opens the door. It’s a huge room, champagne on ice. He’s made an effort.

I take off the bikini and he shows me where to hang it. We go over to the bed with our drinks and he parts my robe.

Oh yes he says.

I close my eyes and think of England.

The Offshore Recruiter

We meet after work on a Thursday, I take him to a hidden cocktail place where you enter through the fridge.

It’s a bad idea as he doesn’t drink cocktails and slates the beer on offer. The waitress can probably tell and gives me sympathetic eyes, presuming we are on a date.

As we sit opposite each other it’s hard to tell if he’s into me. I’m not that into him but I expect I’ll still leap into bed with him. He has too many stories about work, he’s not really asking me anything. We leave early and he takes the commute home with me.

At the bus stop I pinch his cigarette- I figure if he’s going to taste of it I may as well too. It’s better than I remember.

On the bus he grabs my leg, we’re delayed in traffic and I’m frustrated.


I remember the feel of his shirt, silky and expensive – a Ralph Lauren. It’s awkward and I wish I was drunker or hotter or anything. His beard is surprisingly soft and I enjoy kissing him. He’s good with his tongue and fingers but doesn’t make me weep with joy.

We try a few positions and I’ve already forgotten what he felt like. I end up sucking his cock more than riding him. He comes with a roar and I am unsatisfied, we try again but he has to stop.

He’s already told me about 8 times he has an early meeting. We probably spent more time chatting than fucking.

The Art Director again

It’s Saturday and a series of his messages comes through, less than a week after we’ve met.

If you’re a female reader you will know the drill – I’m horny, my cock needs sucking etc etc. All expecting you to drop everything and run.

Ok so the thought it tempting, but I’ve already messed up on my life admin today and am behind schedule to get into town. So I politely decline, tell him I’m free the next day – but with a feeling of disappointment that he’s even turned into that kind of guy. Being wanted is one thing, but at his convenience only is kinda sleazy.

On the bus my pussy throbs with want and lust. Fuck.

Scroll forward to Sunday afternoon, I feel bad about making excuses to leave my friend and go home but I want to see if he bites. But I also want to try and play it cool.

I send a casual message seeing if he still wants to hook up. The answer is non-committal, typical. I pace up and down, have a bath, fiddle with my hair and redo my makeup. I even decide to cook dinner and forget about him. I start a boxset, and 10 minutes in my phone beeps.

Half an hour later we are clutching at each other again in the hallway. I tell him to follow me upstairs, this time with no drink its different. I can smell he’s been cooking, I can feel the wool of his jumper. We paw at each other and all our clothes are taken off. He lies on the bed and moans as I replace his cock in my mouth. He doesn’t touch me at all. I don’t even touch myself.

He asks for a condom and I climb onto his cock. He’s neither large or small, a perfect fit even. He smells incredible and I keep complimenting him as I’m fucking him. something isn’t quite right though – maybe something to do with us both having inhibitions now which were masked by alcohol last time around. Perhaps something to do with him not making any effort of foreplay.

Either way, he comes pretty quickly with very loud roars and I’m still not sated. We lie together and he tells me to lean into him and embraces me. It’s quite lovely.

I can’t stay away from his cock, I want it in my hand and my mouth. I keep playing and he keeps talking and I just get the sense that he isn’t happy. He says he’s stressed. I ask him if I can fuck him again and we switch position a few times. It’s going well and I’m almost about to come when he climbs off and apologises, saying he’s in his own head too much.

I get the feeling he has a lot going on, so trying to make him laugh seems like the answer. I succeed of course. I guess that is my pleasure and ego sated.

As he leaves he says ” See you again if you play your cards right”

I answer back straight away: I’m playing the joker”.