I Want Your Sex

How do I know?

Please let me explain.

Sometimes I'd see an awful lot of Nina. We could be sharing a bed two or three nights a week, if not a lot more. Then her latest new bloke happened along and she'd disappear, in a flash and just like magic. I could go as long as two months without having her turn up on my doorstep.

But the novelty inevitably wore off.

And then she'd appear, telling me Tom, Dick or Harry wasn't worth a fig.

Telling me she needed 'proper sex", and the sooner the better.

Weak creature that I am, I have never turned her away. In mitigation I'd say you can't have seen the girl. If you had you would have taken her back every time, again and again, world without end.

So that was our pattern. A regular boyfriend's life expectancy was three months. For the first two I'd see no trace of Nina, outside of our regular daily contact at work (gossiping shamelessly and endlessly pigging on savoury and cream luxuries from Greggs). Then, with minimal or no warning at all, she'd suddenly show up for a "no-strings, one-off" shag.

Only to be repeated the next night . . .

After that the pattern was unmissable. From forsaking me for two months she'd want to have sex with me once a week. Then twice a week . . .

Then six, seven and even ten . . .

And then the latest new bloke was gone and it'd be every other night and twice on Tuesdays.

(Not sure where that came from: "Twice" wasn't even an hourly thing for us; our typical Tuesdays were into hundreds if not thousands.)

Chapter Four

Tonight Nina obviously hadn't been working over: freshly showered, as delightful as ever, clad in a pair of denims that did miracles for her ass (and as if her ass needed any help at all!) she could have fronted for Vogue.

Or, more accurately, she could have "backed" for Vogue.

After a second glance at her plunging neckline, maybe she could have fronted for Penthouse.

Too true she could. She could have been my Penthouse Pet anytime.

'Hi,' I said in greeting, 'long time no see.'

With no prompting whatsoever Nina kissed me. And she gave it big licks. There was not one hint of an air kiss. No, she got in there brave and bold,

As if I was likely to protest. I let her hands grab my ass and kissed back at her with a will.

Her hungry mouth, her avid, ravenous sucking of my tongue . . . and my nipples launching off like skyrockets, bound for who knew where . . . Mars if not even Jupiter.

When an unruly group of lads at the bar made comment, I let it wash over me.

'Put her down,' one of them remarked, 'you don't know where she's been.'

'Bet I do,' another re-joined.

'Don't knock it,' a third added, 'go girls. Go for it; go, go!'

Nina broke away first. Completely ignoring the group of lads she asked me where I'd been all her life.

I laughed. 'Mostly in meetings with you and your boss,' I replied. 'Fancy a drink?'

'I thought you'd never ask.'

I bought myself a titanic pinot and Nina, at her insistence, a relatively small Chardonnay and then, excited as of old, I asked the world's best PA what brought her to these parts.

'Not that I'm complaining,' I added, 'I'm intrigued.'

'I'm meeting Roger anytime now,' she replied with a glance at the clock.

'Roger being your latest?' That question wasn't quite as innocuous as it may seem. Keeping track of Nina's latest flames was, to say the least, tricky. At one time she'd been enchanted by a stiff IT guy called Dom. He had lasted much longer than anyone else but had eventually drifted out of the picture. Nowadays he hovered in the background, hoping for a way back in.

And, co-incidentally, I was on Dom's side. I liked having sex with Nina but I wasn't her soul mate.

Dom was, whether she knew it or not.

IT nerd or not, Dom was cool.

'Yeah,' she said now, sounding a little less than enthused, 'Roger's my latest.'

The crowd of male barflies were still leering at us.

'Should we take a seat and discuss?' I asked discreetly.

'No way should we; eff the lot of them and the ship they sailed in. If they all cum in their pants so what? Let them explain themselves to their mummies.'

I had to admire the sentiment. Mary Rose couldn't have been more cutting. Well yeah, maybe she could have been ten times worse, but she wouldn't have been nearly so polite.

Mare doesn't do polite.

'Tell me about Roger,' I prompted. 'He's lasted a while, hasn't he?'

Nina rolled her eyes. 'Don't ask me how we met. I found him in my bed Christmas Day morning. That's not so long ago, is it?'

'It's Easter next weekend.'

'Correct. And he'll be gone by then.'

'Nearly three calendar months,' I said, 'that's close to a record, isn't it?'

Nina moved in closer. She replied in a husky whisper.

'I'm sorry.'

'What are you sorry about?'

'I haven't paid you any attention in ages. Let's make up for it soon.'

The feel of her breath in my ear was nearly as awesome as feel of the swell of her breasts on my arm.

'Tonight's fine by me,' I said impulsively.

Sadly, Nina wasn't quite as swayed as I was. More sadly still, she didn't keep her breasts swelling against me.

Not nearly long enough, anyway.

'I can't let Roger down,' she purred. 'It's his birthday today. I've given him certain . . . assurances.'

Just then, as if on cue, Roger showed up.

What a hunk was he! Nina tended to go for sporty, athletic guys. I can't complain too much about that, can I? I've always tended towards very sporty, athletic girls myself.

(Tending again; what am I like?)

Sexuality is a strange thing, isn't it? Right now I've been man-free for several years. Don't ask me how many years; I sincerely don't know. Call it more than five, less than ten.

And I am well into penetration. My toy drawers are stuffed with gadgets that I adore to have inside of me. All three of them . . .

Drawers that is; I have lots more than merely three gadgets.

Yet again I ask "Where were we?"

Moving swiftly on . . .

Forgive my overuse of the word "adore" but I can't downplay the way I am.

Quite frankly I love having something hard inside of me.

And I abundantly prefer it with girls.

Nothing against guys, it's just a million miles better when my partner's not slovenly, hair-triggered and unskilled beyond all reason,

Not that I hate guys, you understand. I've just had more than one or two bad experiences.

Stuff that, though. Let's get on with the tale.

Let's get back to Roger, who looked as if he could effortlessly satisfy any woman with both of his arms tied behind his back.

And what a quite exquisite idea was that . . .

Chapter Five

Being a very considerate, compassionate woman I only lingered for a couple of drinks. Roger was paying me far too much attention and last thing I wanted was to annoy Nina. Giving both of them air-kisses, I crossed the road to the Shama and swore out loud.

I'd forgotten the freaking bring-your-own-drinks rule, hadn't I?

Fortunately the serving staff had built up a decent supply of "left over bottles". Within a matter of seconds I was overwhelmed with a dozen different beers and lots of wines, most of them French.

'On the house,' the head waiter told me, 'as many as you want.'

I could have kissed him. I could have broken my self-imposed virginity and done all sorts. But he was happily married and had a wife to die for. In all honesty I could have done even more for her but she didn't seem to be readily available.

Well, hey-ho. You can't win 'em all.

Sad as it may be.

A taxi ride later, more than adequately fed and watered by my Shama buddies; ignoring the urge for another glass or so of vino (and the odd lager) I threw myself on my bed and gazed up at the overhead mirror.

That initial time I thought about Nina. History aside, Nina was great to think about. Watching up in the mirror was good, too, wasn't it? I have a great body, one desired by almost everybody, and it was fun to watch myself slowly pleasuring it.

I know, I know. Girls aren't supposed to admit they ever pleasure themselves. How dumb is that! I don't think there are many people on the planet, male or female, who haven't experimented. And I don't think there many who have only ever tried it once.

Focusing on a girlfriend while doing the deed might seem a little pervy. I personally believe it's an expression of sincere appreciation. And I only hope lots of friends and acquaintances think of me as they jill away like crazy.

Fair's only fair, no?

I am not going to attempt to describe the things that went on inside my head while I played. All I'll say is I concentrated on happy memories and wished it was Nina's left hand on me, not my own.

And what an orgasm! You know the ones: the ones that start by curling your toes and carry on to tighten every last muscle in your legs until, if not flat on your back, you'd surely fall over.

The ones that make your eyes and mouth open in perfect wide Os of surprise and delight.

O for Orgasm.

O for Oh my God yes!

Laughing breathlessly, I switched hands and focused on Dave.

Dave was, at that moment, a mystery to me. In a way that's why I used my right hand. I'm almost ambidextrous but favour my left. Therefore my right feels a little more like someone else's. And, as I had no idea what to expect from Dave, a little of the unexpected seemed apt.

I kept it slow as well, naturally. Despite my steadily peaking anticipation, that was one of my most leisurely jills of all time. Then again, I had plenty to think about, didn't I?

Others (mostly meaning Kat) have described Dave as looking like Velma from Scooby-Doo. That is balderdash, to use a word well beyond its sell-by date. The only thing remotely Velma-like that relates to Dave is her thick-framed glasses. Okay, her hair is the same colour but much shorter. Otherwise she is as different as can be.

Fit as heck, but totally, utterly different.

Our paths had first crossed a year or so earlier. WYB had entered into a joint project with the firm she worked for. Dave was their IT representative. And no, unlike countless others, I did not at first suppose on first sight she was a guy.

On first sight I supposed she was a moderately attractive, purposely makeup-free girl with little or no time for blokes.

On second sight I realized there was nothing remotely moderately attractive about her at all.

And on third sight I was hooked.

Not that I did anything about it. I have never adhered to Victoria's motto of "Don't screw the crew" but, when representing WYB, I have always strictly controlled myself.

(I'm scouring my memory banks as I make that claim and can't think of any exceptions! Hopefully, if there are any, I got away with them!!)

Using my imagination as best I could, alone on my bed, I dwelt on Dave's body. She was boyish, no doubt about it, but still sexy. Her chest was flat as a board and she didn't curve very much at the waist. But she was a lean and fit girl, however; a girl whose hobbies centred on walking vast distances and climbing up cliffs.

Believe you me, pretending she was climbing the north face of my ass was not a problem.

Finishing my fantasy was delight personified. My toes nearly curled themselves into the soles of my feet and my eyes almost popped out of my head.

O for Orgasm?

Oh my God, wasn't it just!

*****

My next focusing event wasn't such a triumphal success. For reasons I cannot begin to explain, I used both hands at once and thought about Roger.

Most of Nina's boyfriends were soccer players. I had Roger down as a rugby player, possibly for the Cougars or even the Bulls. Failing that, surely he played for the Bees or the rough and ready Keighlians.

Given a nose like that, surely he had to play rugger. Or maybe he spent his Friday nights touring the notorious trouble spots of Church Green.

(That's a joke, by the way; I love the pubs on Church Green, rough and ready as they are.)

Roger, I mused. Whatever would he be like?

Out of practice as I was, I still had no difficult in conjuring up an image of the guy's willy. To my mind it had to be proportional to his body; in other words big.

And yes, girls, I know that doesn't always follow; but this was my fantasy, wasn't it? It was also my first fantasy about a man since the London Olympics, so I wasn't going to skimp.

I wasn't going to cum either. That became clear after about twenty minutes. I was rather satisfied with the mental image of his erection and woman enough to admit the real thing had advantages over my toys. Digging up distant memories I could almost feel his real, genuine skin moving on a bone-hard core, in my mouth, between my breasts and down there, where it really matters.

Moving slowly at first then accelerating, getting faster, faster and ever more furious . . .

Yet my body wasn't responding as it should. My dream lover might be quickly approaching his finish but the essential me didn't want to know.

Sorry guys and gals, it just wasn't going to happen.

Arbitrarily ditching Roger, I focused on Victoria's mamma instead. Yes, temporarily excluding the rest of the known universe, I focused on my girlfriend's mother.

Age wasn't a subject to be discussed with Mamma. She was an older woman, obviously, but with the face and body of someone much younger. Don't tell Vic, but I knew that face and body very well indeed.

On the QT you could say I knew Mamma intimately.

And as a tactic the switch certainly worked. I was screaming and yelling in less than five minutes.

Lesson learnt; girls win, guys count for next to nix. Wide awake and with no immediate inclination towards sleep, I set a bearing for my toy drawers. A session with one rabbit or another seemed to be in order. And I was spoiled for choice.

'Solidarity sisters,' I murmured as I went. 'Lifelike imitations are the order of the day.'

My mobile rang as I tugged open my trusty middle drawer.

'Hi Hev, it's me.'

It was Nina and, by the sound of things, she was in a car.

What could she be ringing about at so late an hour?

What apart from the obvious!

'How's Roger enjoying his birthday treat?' I enquired sweetly.

'Roger's out of the equation,' she replied jauntily, 'forget about him. Get yourself downstairs and ward off your geese.'

Ah, so that was what she was ringing about!

'Where are you?' I wondered.

'I'm in a cab, coming up Micklethwaite Lane. I'll be at yours in two minutes. So get your fat ass off the bed and be ready.'

'I have not got a fat ass,' I replied heatedly. But it was too late. She'd already hung up.

Chapter Six

Hastily donning a red rugby shirt I'd "naturalized" back in my uni days, I headed downstairs.

Except calling that shirt red is an insult to red things everywhere. At one stage it had been a deep scarlet. These days, a million washes later, it was a patchy pink and white with one sleeve shrunk and the other practically trailing on the ground.

And it barely covered that (not fat!) ass of mine.

Headlights raked the refurbished farmyard as I ventured outside.

'Doc,' I called, looking left towards the pond, 'Bashful . . . At ease!'

All seven geese were already in motion and trust me they were infinitely more formidable than a pack of guard dogs. They were infinitely easier to keep, too. There's plenty of green grass around the farmyard and they could live off that alone. Not that I didn't regularly give them treats: they all loved vegetables and often feasted on cabbage, cauliflower and carrots.

Come to think of it, they had a much better balanced diet than I did.

Strictly speaking, Doc was in charge of the flock. In practice Bashful ruled the roost so I took care to address them before the others, paying lip service by addressing Doc first. Being alpha-female, Bashful understood what I was doing and played along, as often as not.

That night all seven of them played along, retreating to the reeds as a Bingley Taxi pulled up not five yards away from me.

'I can't wait,' said Nina as her cabbie turned and left, waving politely as he went. 'I need you so, so desperately.'

Judging by the hungry way she mashed our lips together she wasn't exaggerating.

And, judging by the ambient temperature and the wind lifting the back of my annexed and ill-fitting rugby shirt, it was imminently about to snow.

Somehow I got Nina indoors but then she became an irresistible force. Luckily for me and sparing the geese's blushes, I managed to slam shut the huge slab of wood I call my front door.

Then she shoved me back against it and resumed her lip-mashing attack.

And her hands were simply everywhere!

Sometimes a girl has no option but to go with the flow. That was one of those times.

Good grief wasn't she insistent! I've been groped many a time but never as thoroughly as that. If I had to mark out of ten the best of the rest would get nine and she'd get fifteen, or maybe twenty.

As for efficiency she'd get no less than a hundred.

Thanking the gods for the wooden slab at my back I thrust onto her probing fingers best I could, again and again and again.

What did I just say about toe curling orgasms? Believe me that one, standing helpless against the door, was better than most.

Oh my word; weren't my legs suddenly boneless! If Nina hadn't been holding me up I would have been flapping about on the welcome mat like a freshly landed fish.

But she was holding me up. Doing my best to give her a cheery grin, I thanked her for paying me attention.

'You're right,' I gasped, 'it's been way too long.'

'Haven't even started yet,' she replied sassily, 'let's go upstairs and get cosy.'

As if I was about to decline. Secretly testing the muscles in my legs I smiled. My recovery powers were still as good as ever.

'Okay,' I said. 'Let's go upstairs. You lead the way.'

The rear view of her in those tight blue denims was too much. Before she was halfway down the hall I knew we weren't going to make it. Half a dozen steps up and I was unfastening her buttons and zip. She presented no resistance at all. She even lifted her bum so I could more easily divest her of her jeans.

That wasn't as easy as it sounds. They were tight-fitting and wanted to cling to her and not let go (can't say I blame them too much for that). Intrepid as ever, I tugged, pulled, yanked, jerked and finally got the freaking things off her.

Then, unable to wait long enough to remove her sexy white panties, I went in nose first.

Yes, yes, yes! Three months without and Nina tasted better than ever. She also groaned, sighed and moaned her thanks avidly.

'Oh yes, Hev, yes please.'

Pushing her sodden underwear to one side wasn't a major problem. If anything it added to the occasion. So did the way she opened her legs. By then I was kneeling three or four steps below her, my tongue darting every which way, my fingers slyly easing into play.

'Oh yes, Hev, yes please.'

Nina's orgasm control was lots better than mine. She held off at least ten times as long as I had. Then she came at least ten tines as hard.

How unfair was that!

And then she was pulling my hair, dragging my head up, staring into my eyes.

'I doubt I can walk,' she said, staring into my eyes.

'I can,' I said more confidently than I felt. Amazingly I could! And, to my immense delight, I also had the strength to lift Nina off her step and heave her over my shoulder.

'Oh my God,' she half-yelled, half-tittered, 'what are you doing with me!'

'I'm reverting to cave-girl,' I countered, setting off uphill, 'and you're coming to my cave. Just be glad I didn't club you over your head first . . .'

*****

I did actually ask Nina what had happened to Roger but it was much, much later.

She smiled at me, in response. 'You don't like hearing about guys anymore, so why ask?'

Nina was one of the few who knew why I was (yet again!) officially off men. She was also quite naturally thoughtful. She would never try to embarrass me in any way. Questions from her were always posed with the best of intentions, even leading ones. I answered in similar spirit.