Are We Who We Think We Are? Pt. 01

Huge thank you to AlanHomerJ for proof reading and editing. It got me over the line.

This is my first ever story, erotic or otherwise and so I would welcome any constructive criticism. Bear with the start, it's slow but it warms up. I was trying to set the stage and give the characters some depth but feel it might be a little windy.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy...

Are we who we think we are?

It had been a long day. In fact, recently most days were long days and probably would continue to be long days for a while. Add to this the grind and slog of commuting in and out of London 4 days a week, fighting through thousands of people none of whom want you or anyone else in their personal space, but again you don't want them in yours. I stood crowded into a tube carriage with one arm pinned by my side holding my rucksack and the other stuck above my head braced against the ceiling, a pose every commuter knew.

I was looking forward to getting home, having a shower and then going out for a few drinks with my house mates and our small group of friends which happily also included Sarah, my girlfriend. As we stopped mid tunnel yet again, I closed my eyes let my imagination out to play a little. I thought about Sarah and where I'd like to take her and the things we could do. . .

Okay, full disclosure here, I was not thinking a single fucking romantic thought at this point. My mind was firmly lodged in the gutter, and I liked it there, it was my home. My imagination was brim full of filth and kink. Deep down I believed that if you were doing something sexual that wouldn't make a whore blush then you probably weren't trying and certainly not having as much fun as you could be. This was all very much at odds with my people facing persona. I would never suggest I was prim and proper, definitely one of the boys but also very respectable and the kind of "nice guy" you can take home to meet the parents. I did fairly well as far as girlfriends went and at just over six feet tall (183cm) and around 14 stones (200 lbs) which was mainly fairly fit muscle from running and playing rugby and various other sports I wasn't too hard on the eye. I was fairly shy though and to this point I definitely hadn't managed to live out anything close to the fantasies that my imagination teased me with on a daily (sometimes hourly) basis.

Despite knowing that I wanted fire and adventure in a girlfriend I always seemed to go for and attract "good girls". It was infuriating and Sarah was a prime example. She was from good stock, daddy ran his own very successful law firm, mummy stayed home to manage the house (yes, they even used to refer to each other with this names), good girls school, great degree, sporty and pretty. She was also almost as tall as me, slim with legs that made me look like a frigging dwarf from the waist down and long, thick dark brown hair that fell to the middle of her back and pert C-cups that almost needed a bra to hold them down rather than up. Sarah was very much a "good girl".

We first met when I moved in with my house mates Andy and Dom. She was the recent ex of one of them but still part of a close group of 5 or 6 friends that hung out often and helped us move into our place. For the first few months we didn't really have much to do with each other and then she needed somewhere to stay for a couple of weeks before she and another friend of ours moved into a new flat together. Sarah stayed over at ours in the spare room and over the course of those two weeks we slowly drifted further into each other's orbit. The combination of a "good girl" and a shy bloke isn't exactly conducive to a fast and furious relationship though so nothing much really happened for another few months despite seeing her with the group 3 or 4 times a week. It took a new year's celebration, a lot of fizz all around and a new year's kiss that got mugged by a pair of tongues.

As is proper for a good girl we dated for a while before actually doing the deed. It was, nice. I mean don't get me wrong the sex was good, as far as very vanilla sex goes but it was early days and I figured that things would loosen up a bit and I was more than willing to go along because I liked Sarah. I liked her a lot and so there were some things that I was willing, if not happy to overlook. For instance, good girls don't shave or wax even when they are hairy like bear's backside. Good girls also certainly do not talk dirty, go commando, sunbathe topless or any of that kind of carry on. Good girls would under no circumstances let you go south of Vagina Island to the puckered reef for even the briefest exploratory expedition and doing it doggy was just rude.

Nevertheless, the sex and fun that was available was very available and done with gusto. Also, thankfully, one thing that good girls were apparently very proud of was giving head and boy could Sarah ever give head. I am pleased to say that while not a porn star I am comfortably above average in length sporting just over eight inches (and I was later to discover eight and a half inches with a cock ring) but I am, apparently very big around with a large circumcised knob on the end that flares somewhat. This is a double-edged sword -- the good edge I am sure you can imagine; the bad edge is trying to pull it back into a zipper can frequently be quite painful if you get the "barbs" caught and squealing like a little girl having a tantrum is NOT COOL in a pub toilet for instance. I digress, so I was incredibly pleased when Sarah made it her mission to try and cram as much of my meat into her mouth as she could. Sadly, again this could only be done in certain positions (and never "kneeling" in front of me because that wouldn't be proper) and so she never managed to get more than a little of the head much further than the back of her mouth despite my helpful suggestions of better positions offering a more accessible approach.

I loved going down on Sarah despite the unruly thatch she kept. She tasted amazing and boy did she get soaking wet when I had a couple of fingers inside her pussy and my lips wrapped round her clit. She even squirted a little on several occasions but blushed bright red and shut down completely if I ever commented on this. Fingers and tongue had to stay firmly above the equator though. I did, once, manage to sneak down there and slip just the end of my finger in just as she was about to cum and fuck me did she ever cum. As soon as I made contact it was like an electric shock went through her arse and out of her clit. She arched her back rigid and made a kind of strangled yelp then collapsed onto the bed her stomach muscle rippling out of control and she came and came and came. My face was a mess. It did however signal the end of the festivities that night and for several afterwards as she was too "mortified" by what I'd done to even see me.

And those boobs. Man, they were just perfect. Probably too big on most girls for my liking but on her frame they were perfect. Big puffy nipples tipped the ends and point up about 45 degrees and they were sensitive, oh yes, they were soooo sensitive. However good girls don't have their "breasts" mauled like common tarts, and Sarah was a good girl who also had some serious hang ups about their size and way her nipples looked. For god sake the girl has nipples like Patsy Kensit but as far as I was concerned, I could look (sometimes) but not really touch. When I did manage to cop a feel though it was like turning on a tap between her legs.

Things were going well for a while. We had sex. I met her friends. We had sex. I met her parents and family. We had sex. We went on holiday. We had sex. We went out with friends. We had sex. The problem though was the sex was all very samey and after several months predictable and, it kills me to say it, dull. Sarah was a good girl and I was too fucking shy and too stupid to say anything or push the boundaries.

So, there I was crammed into the tube carriage quietly fantasising about all the things I'd like to do to Sarah but would never get the chance to because she was a good girl and it slowly started to dawn on me most all of my relationships had been variations on this theme to greater or lesser extents. I was something of a blow to me when I realised that in fact, I was the common factor in all of these dull, vanilla relationships. At 26 years old, I realised that it was me that was keeping my love life (okay sex life) in neutral either by getting involved with girls that were only interested in vanilla or not having the bollocks to make my desires known and putting it out there.

By the time I got off the tube I'd realised that I needed to start fresh, new outlook, new resolve. Say what I meant and get what I wanted. I was all ready to get home and write my manifesto.

I did in fact get home and write somethings down, not really a manifesto but more a wish list of kinks I wanted to explore and basic traits I wanted in a girlfriend. I did then try matching those traits against Sarah and it didn't look promising... so like a good boy I put a pin in it and thought about things a little more.

One week went by.........

Then two weeks went by........

Before I even realised, it was a month.

I was still seeing Sarah. We were still having vanilla sex. I hadn't even managed to push things to vanilla made with real vanilla pods, you know, the kinds with the little black seeds in. I'd initially tried in a somewhat pathetic semi non-verbal way to exert my will but predictably got shut down and so reverted to type.

"You're pathetic Jake", Sam laughed as she almost doubled over in her seat. "You are decent looking, fit, great job that earns you way more than anyone else our age that I know anyway and I know you are packing some heat down there as well," she gave me a knowing look, "What the fuck is your problem. "

Sam, one of my oldest school friends and a girl a crushed on for a while until we went out together for a while and then decided that actually we made far better drinking buddies than we did a couple. We were sat in a pub back in my hometown. I was visiting the folks for a long weekend while Sarah was off on a work trip in Singapore. Sam (Samaaaaarrrrntha) is possibly the only person I know that I can just unload on and not be judged and who will, after laughing in my face for a while, always offer sound advice. She is also a real looker and on a purely physical basis I would love to revisit past filth with her. However, we were very much "friend zoned" with all our history and that was fine with me.

"I dunno," I said, "you're right, I am pathetic. The inside of my mind could make a porn star want to join a convent, but all my fucking mouth manages is 'Yes dear, that would be just lovely.'" I took a long drink of my beer and looked at her. "What do I do about Sarah?"

"My advice has a price," Sam grinned, "one that I will collect one day, or maybe never but remember that if I come and collect you will fucking owe me. Now listen up stud muffin."

She put down her glass and leaned back and looked at me then she leaned forward over the small table until she was right in my face and with a few words changed my life, "you tell her that you are a dirty, kinky bastard and then let her go," she said smiling sweetly, paused, then added "you fucking pussy."

I obviously looked somewhat nonplussed as I just sat there gawping at her. "Look," she said, "once you have unloaded your dirty little boy thoughts on her and then dumped her she will either never speak to you again or she will."

"Well, gee, that's really fucking insightful," I snarked, "She'll either speak to me or not."

"No, you fuckwit. Either it absolutely won't be anything she can ever be near and so frankly you are well rid because you would just make each other miserable in time or she might decide to give it a try, in which case you can enjoy and say, 'thank you Samantha, you are truly amazing.'"

She sat back in her chair again and gave me a long hard look. "From everything you have said and from what I have seen, Sarah has a couple of issues at the core of things." Sam paused to take a drink and then lifted her index finger, "First of all she wants, or thinks she wants control all of the time and anything that distracts from that is bad. I am surprised she even gives in to an orgasm." Raising a second finger she continued, "The other issue is she has been brought up as mummy and daddy's little girl, taught to please them and keep them happy. In order for you to get what you want you need to break through both those issues and, if you ask me, which you are doing, the surest way to do that is to tell her what you want and then walk away. Set her free and see if she comes back or however that stupid saying goes."

I was at a loss for words. It was so obvious, how had I not seen it before! The thatch, the nipples, the restrictions on what was and was not allowed between the sheets the ritual cleaning and washing up, the... everything, the always visiting her parents when they called, the dressing appropriately when she was with them. It was all an almost total fucking reversion to childhood.

I had a lot to think through and plans to make.

Breaking up is hard to do

I arrived back home a man with a mission. I was going to confront Sarah the next day (before I lost my nerve) and tell her about the things I wanted out of sex and a relationship. I went and made my "manifesto" and read through the things I had written down and decided what I was going to say.

• I wasn't satisfied with a vanilla sex life

• Being restricted in what we did, touched, said was just not working for me anymore

• I wanted a relationship where I took a sexually dominant role

• I wanted a girlfriend that could accept this and was willing or better still eager to take a submissive position.

• I wanted "dirty" sex with toys and bondage and maybe some risk

• I wanted dirty sex talk, sexting and filthy letters

• I wanted to spend hours playing with my girlfriend's body, teasing it and denying it over and over again

• I wanted to make my girlfriend orgasm wherever and whenever I chose to do so, or deny that orgasm if I wished

• I loved anal sex and had given it up for too long

• I wanted a girlfriend that went out of her way to do things to please me rather than her parents (at least sometimes)

• I wanted a properly groomed pussy

I would then tell Sarah that I wished she could be this person with me, but I was concerned that I didn't think it was her. However much I liked or loved her, I thought that, if she couldn't be at least most or some of this then we were just going to ultimately fail, and better it is now rather than later.

I met her in London at lunchtime the following day, sitting in the park I laid it all out for her. It did not go well, there were tears. Actually, lots and lots of tears. There was disbelief and suspicion, was I seeing someone else? There were more tears and then there was anger.

I felt I was starting to get out of my depth and not knowing what else to do I just tried to finish the conversation by saying, "look, I have spent a lot of time thinking about what it is I really want. What we have going just isn't even close. I want to be happy and fulfilled, I deserve to be and so do you."

I paused for a breath, but restarted before she could interrupt, "Neither of us are going to get that together like this. Do you really, deep down, want to be like this for the rest of your life? Do you want to stay "safe" and "do the proper thing" according to the book of mummy and daddy. Take some time and really think about."

Sarah glared at me like she'd never met me before but I pressed on, "I really do honestly care about you and I think that you want to be more, to give more, the chance to live but you hold yourself back. I won't tell you it's not me it's you because it isn't. At least it isn't just me or just you."

I confess that by this point I kind of felt I was on a role and basically did a mic drop and walked off back to work leaving Sarah sat on a park bench alone, processing and hopefully thinking about what might be, that was probably not my finest hour.

By the time I got back to the office I felt like utter shit. What had I done?

I sat back at my desk, staring at my screen, staring at my phone wondering what the fuck I had just done. What had I done? Had I really just sat down a perfectly beautiful girl in a beautiful park on a lovely sunny afternoon and told her that I was basically breaking up with her because she what I wanted in bed? In my mind this is more or less what it amounted to.

I picked up my phone to call her and changed my mind and opened an IM screen and then just sat looking at that. What could I possibly say? "Sorry," I could start with that. I switched back to phone and started to find Sarah's contact but when I did, I just couldn't press the button my hand was shaking.

Then, like a recovering alcoholic having a crisis, I called Sam, fled my desk and spilled my guts. She was silent throughout the whole delivery. Not a word or squeak out of her. When I was finished the silence continued for a few moments until I heard her laugh and say, "You fucking legend. I never thought for a second you would do it. DO NOT call or message her, at least not yet."

"Well when?" I asked, "I can't handle this, I am an utter cunt."

"Well, yes. But no. Maybe you are, but at least you were, for once in your life, true to yourself. Be patient and give her time. Getting dumped by a lame pussy like you is going to be hard on any girl and it'll take a bit of getting over. Don't call! If you do, I'll tell the world what you did at your Uni graduation," and with that Sam put the phone down.

Shit!

I got almost nothing done for the rest of the afternoon so I gave up early and left, planning to head out for a run to try and clear my head. I fought my way onto the tube again and found a comfortable spot with my face in someone's armpit and closed my eyes.

I was single again. Maybe it would be okay. Sarah would be fine, I'd be fine. We were young and healthy and fairly successful. She would meet someone soon enough and I would too. On that note I opened my eyes and scanned the carriage, well what small portion of it I could see. Okay, so I wouldn't be hooking up in here, hah!

When I got home I changed into my running togs and headed out and towards the river and the canals. It was a beautiful late May evening, not too warm with only a little breeze and I planned to put in a good few miles. A few miles in and as is always the case, my head started to clear, I relaxed letting my body work itself while my mind started to find some clarity and move beyond the pain of the day.

I had done it. I had made a stand today. Not with Sarah but against myself. I had stood up for what I wanted to have from my love life. For the first time I could remember I hadn't just accepted and gone along and I was free. I was single. I could go find what I wanted now, or I could wait and see what Sarah did, or I could do both. The world was full of options and possibilities, some of those possibilities running along the path around me, all tight bodied in snug lycra.

Another mile and I had resolved to head home, the world might be full of possibility but that didn't mean I was anymore capable of talking to any of it. One victory was not a whole war. I needed some time alone I thought, decide how to take the next step.

One thing I had definitely found clarity on though was that I wouldn't get into another relationship unless it was mutually on the terms I wanted.