Is good sex worth losing your job for?
March 21, 2014 § 3 Comments
Last night. Mamma mia. I have bruises on my thighs and bite marks on my breasts.
Frank invited me for a drink ‘in his area’, which is code for ‘I don’t want you doing a runner on me again on the journey home, so I’ll reduce the risk by taking you out on the same road as my house’. I was fully expecting it. And hey, it’s been a while, I was not gonna complain if the night ended sans clothes.
Sure enough, after a few drinks at his local, he just wanted to pop back to his to ‘drop off some things’, and we ended up drinking £1 wine and smoking a joint on his bed. Our classiness knows no bounds. A few of these later and I was slurrily asking him for a massage, my thinly veiled attempt to get things moving, which worked like a charm.
The sex. Oh, the sex. Never have I ever clicked with someone physically so quickly before. Biggest I’ve ever encountered and me-oh-my is that a game-changer. Wow.
3 times it happened, each more exhausting and exhilarating than the last, interspersed with some deep and meaningful weed and alcohol fuelled conversations, possibly a little too honest for a first time, but heck, when it’s this good, anything goes. He asked me if I’d ever been in love, and what my greatest fears were, my sexual fantasies… pretty much any personal topic you could think of. Although amongst the soul-sharing he mentioned that I shouldn’t ‘fall for him’, and kept slipping in little anecdotes about the other girls he was(/is?) seeing in Rome. I get it, this isn’t serious.
Our amorous exploits ended with a bang, and both of us were so worn out after three rounds that we immediately fell asleep. Several hours later I woke with a start, finding myself and hour and a half after my work day had started, completely naked and on the other side of the city… Woops.
Scrambling worriedly for my belongings, I ended up leaving several things behind (including my panties, lucky boy), and not even kissing my lover goodbye as he hastened to get me in a taxi. Unsurprisingly my bosses were not best pleased, and I had to endure a stern talking to over the dinner table, no doubt with weeks of grovelling on my part to follow. Maybe my days of Wednesday night sexploits are behind me. Although I received a text not long after I left, detailing our next encounter with “less booze, more emergency alarms”, so perhaps all is not lost.
I undoubtedly plan to see him again. No way is a gal missing out on that sort of passion on a regular basis, but I realise I have to be careful. His clarity in our casualness eases the matter somewhat, because I know exactly what I’m getting into. However I can’t help but think I don’t particularly want to see anyone else at the moment.
Hell, might as well give it a shot. There’s little I wouldn’t do at this point to ride that piston again. (Am I making a horrible mistake?!)
10/10 (not taking into account the jeopardising of my job)