He was a vision of beauty, although, I should have been used to this god-like image by now. He strolled casually towards me, as if what we were about to do was as normal as taking a walk in the park. It had always intrigued me as to how he was so laid-back about our work; as if I didn’t turn him on. If we were in a club and I had seduced him, this would be his ultimate fantasy. My breasts glistening with my own juices, sitting waiting for him to do with me as he wished. I had to admit it, I was jealous. I wanted him to see me and be so irrevocably turned on by me that he would have to have me, right there and then. That was the effect I had on other men. I could walk into a room, pick the man I wanted, smile and he would follow me outside. The fact that he didn’t want me made me want him so much more.
Back at the beginning I was a naive, young 18 year old. A virgin at 18 doesn’t sound like the sort of life a sexual temptress like me once led does it. The truth was, I was terrified of sex. Afraid I would get it wrong; afraid I would look ridiculous, afraid I would still be a virgin at the age of 40! Yet when it was just me I was the complete opposite. I would explore my sexuality from every angle. Starting with finding the clitoris and ending with finding multiple orgasms!
Starting slow, I would build up until I reached such a sexual peak that I would explode with moans and howls, hands all over myself, waves of pleasure reaching every part of my body. To me this was heaven. I couldn’t imagine anything better. That was until I met Tom. We locked eyes on one of my rare nights out and I knew that I was going to have him. Even with my naivety and inexperience with sex, I pursued him. I wanted him to be inside me and doing all those things I could do so wonderfully to myself, to me.
He took me to his flat and I could feel the excitement rising, I was already wet with anticipation; before I’d even walked through the door.