Let’s face it – we’ve all done it: played the old nostalgia game of recalling idyllic sexual moments with ex-lovers (sometimes re-living them as aids to our solo masturbation). Unless, of course, you’re one of the 0.0001% who wedded your high school sweetheart and has been happily married for the last half-century.

If not, read on.

Stella The Redhead and I had a whirlwind romance back in the 1980s, both bitter and bruised from costly divorces. She was very demanding, very passionate and stellar in bed.

"I'll go somewhere for a really dirty weekend!” she announced over breakfast one morning. “I’ve always wanted to go to Amsterdam. Visit their Red Light District. See all those overweight prostitutes posing half-naked in their bedroom windows. Maybe take in a porn cinema. How does that grab you, big boy?” The question was rhetorical, since Stella could clearly see my excited erection inside my pyjamas. She took my cock out and slowly stroked it, before kneeling to give me a lovely early-morning sucking.

The small Amsterdam guest house where we had a cosy attic bedroom was only a five-minutes' walk from the city’s notorious Red Light District. The blousy tarts seated at their windows were, I thought, a rather sad sight. Stella gave a squeal of excitement as she spotted a porn cinema on the opposite side of the canal. The banner outside announced, “Hot Gay Porn.”

We spent a good hour in the steamy atmosphere of that packed little theatre, surrounded by gay couples quietly fondling and sucking. When we emerged, Stella announced that we needed to find a Dutch Indonesian restaurant she’d read about in her guide book, which specialised in Rijsttafel. “It’s hot like curry and spicy like Chinese,” adding, with a mischievous giggle, her own rider, “…and it makes you extra-sexy!”

We found the restaurant which was clearly very popular with the locals as we had to queue for nearly half an hour for a table. But the wait was worth it. “Was I right?” my mistress asked as we left, squeezing my hand tightly. I smiled and nodded, guiding us along a canal towpath that would lead us back to our little pension.

It was extremely cold (this was November) and I urgently needed a ‘brandy warmer’ to get us home. I nodded in the direction of a small canal-side bar. It was empty and we sipped our brandies by the fire. Then Stella excused herself to visit the ladies. When she returned, she placed her rolled-up panties on the table with a grin. “I thought I’d leave these off in case we find somewhere for us to do it on the way back to the hotel.”

“Do what?”

“Fuck, stupid! I want you to fuck me in the open… in public. Down by a canal. In a doorway perhaps. I’ve always wanted to be fucked in a doorway. It must be so degrading,” adding as a wry after-thought, “Tell you what, I’ll be a slutty whore and you can be my last customer of the night.” The barman sidled over and topped up our glasses, glancing down and smiling at Stella’s discarded panties. “On the house, meneer.”

We ambled along the deserted waterfront. There were few tourists around and Stella soon located an arched doorway, leading to some sort of ships’ chandlery, judging by the ropes and oars lying on the cobbles. A discarded condom indicated that she had made a good choice.

Two lovers were sat on a bench nearby, but they seemed far too busy kissing and fondling each other beneath their coats to be interested in us. “This will be ideal,” my over-sexed mistress announced. “I’ll lean against this doorway and proposition you as you approach.” I took a few paces back along the cobbles, then sauntered towards her just as she lit a cigarette. “Like a nice time, dearie?” She pulled her fake fur coat open to reveal her shaven cunnie and rubbed its slit with her spare hand.

She pushed her shoulders firmly against the stonework and held her legs slightly forwards and opened. I positioned myself between her legs. The man on the bench glanced across at us and whispered to his girlfriend. I had my cock out and was rubbing its swollen glans along Stella’s wet slit, ready to slip inside her. “Oh, you dirty fucker!” she murmured as I slid into her moistness. I felt her long fingernails dig into my back. The lovers on the bench had turned and were now watching us intently.

“Ever heard of sloppy seconds?” my whore asked me as we role-played.

“Why yes, I guess so.”

“Well, you’re having sloppy fifths, darling! I’ve already had four guys shoot their loads into me tonight.” I was so taken aback by this brazen remark that I hadn’t noticed the lovers were now standing beside us in the doorway. But Stella had spotted them. In broken English, she asked the man, “Wanna feel my pussie?”

I felt his girlfriend guide his hand onto Stella’s cunnie, allowing him to feel my piston action through his fingers. Suddenly, it had turned into an amazingly erotic foursome: I was being wanked off by a total stranger (with his girlfriend’s help), with my cock buried in my lover’s sopping wet quim. And as well as holding her partner’s cock in place, the young woman had parted her skirt and was eagerly rubbing her crotch. “Oh that’s SO fucking filthy!” Stella cried out as the man’s pumping action increased. “Please make him cum soon?”

In the rank and gloomy blackness the next few moments were a blur. I was on the very edge of an orgasm, Stella was moaning and shaking with excitement, and two total strangers were now eagerly involved with our love-making. And ‘sloppy fifths’ it most certainly was, with all the members of this spontaneous foursome liberally coated with our shared juices.