There's a common misconception that the female of our species is illogical. Taken at the macro, day-to-day level that may appear the case, but over time they are actually the most logical creatures on Earth. With logic comes predictability. And if the output is predictable, the input can be manipulated to deliver any response desired.

And do I have desires.

Take the barista over there for example. The rakish, pretty redhead, hair tied back in a bun. The one who flashes me a dimply smile when I catch her eye over my mid-morning cappuccino. That's Alina from the Ukraine, studying English part-time at the uni. Father's an independent film-maker, mother's an actress. Neither I've heard of. But despite having the means to pay for my own drink, this one's “On thee house", proudly stated in heavily accented English as I reached for my wallet. I made a fuss, but she insisted. Why? Because last month I fucked her until she didn't know which way was up. And there's nothing wrong with her pronunciation of four-letter words when her head swished side-to-side in a tangled cherry halo against my pillow.

She almost had no need of a bra, but I'd taken it off anyway, if only to suck and bite her perky nipples. Her underwear, functional and utterly superfluous, was flung aside with her jeans moments after crashing into my apartment. She was a wisp of a girl, so light, so fragile. I carried her to the bed, crawled between her willowy thighs and there I stayed, listening to her shrieks under my expert tongue.

Teasing and bringing women to orgasm is my natural drug. The urge to please swells through every fibre of my being. The sight, the sound, the smell is intoxicating and fuels my cock to capacity. By the time I sank into Alina's dripping centre, she was already 2-0 up. Loud, horny and scraping skin from my back beneath purple nail polish, she rasped hot breaths into my ear with each savage thrust. An absolute delight to fill with my boiling come and watch it ooze from her soaking red entrance, distended petals hanging open, the shape of a crucifix. Quite fitting given her religious background; information I'd gleaned during our first encounter, not fifteen feet from where I'm sitting.

The key, I've found, is observation and knowing what to ask without it appearing an interrogation. Making ridiculous suggestions is my favourite method to give her a chance to make corrections: "Lemme guess: you study… marine biology, right?" Boom! Conversation starter.

Another thing I tried on her: "Bet that woman's tattoo hurt," nodding at one of the patrons. Alina's eyes gave her away, even before she confirmed her lack of ink. With nothing adorning her body save for a cute pair of cat-shaped earrings, she was 90% likely to be affiliated with a faith. Once I'd ruled out Catholicism, it defined how many occasions I needed to spend with her before talking her into bed. Three is indeed the magic number, thank you De La Soul . On our third coffee shop "date" I'd suggested a bar. Two hours later she was scrunching up my bed sheets and making the neighbours wish the walls were thicker.

She's not dirty like others I've had, and I genuinely respect that. I'm not going to suggest anal; she's not that type of girl. Unlike Chloe. I'd gone for a run around the park and spotted her warming up by the cricket pavilion, iPhone ear buds already nestled in delicate ears below a chestnut ponytail. Improvising, I steered my route past her, making a show of annoyance at my phone, pretending to notice her and popping out one of my own ear buds.

"Sorry to bother you. My phone's playing up. Would you mind if I try your earphones so I can check if it's the phone or the cable?"

"Uhh sure."

"Thanks. If it's the earphones I'll order some more on my way round."

As she twisted to unclip her cable, I noted two things. One: her athletic midriff peeking below her sports top was supple and revealed a cute belly piercing. Two: she was listening to Deadmau5 . Unlikely religious, and into dance, respectively.

I fumbled the white cable on purpose so I could brush her fingers against mine, then plugged hers in. Of course everything was fine. I nodded to the beat, swiping to the 'D' section before handing them back, indicating her screen – cracked like pretty much everyone's – as she reattached them. "Hey, Deadmau5. Snap.” I showed her my display. “I like The 16 th Hour . 130BPM is about my pace. What's yours?" Boom! Conversation starter.

Ended up jogging with her, going halvsies on coffee and cake afterwards. Then a cheeky pint, which turned to two, which led to walking her home and being invited in, culminating in jogging of the horizontal variety. Naked, sweaty and raw, we were both a bit ripe after the exercise but she tasted fucking fantastic as she sat on my face and started to drizzle onto my insistent tongue. When she slithered back and impaled her neatly trimmed bush on my steel I was mesmerised by her breasts bouncing as she rode me. They were a good handful and she loved having her nipples pinched, tipping her head back, panting to the ceiling.

Based on my profile of her I took a risk, ran my hands down her toned abdomen, brushing her flower-shaped belly jewel and round to cup her voluptuous bottom. Peeled her cheeks apart and swabbed my finger along her rear. Bringing my hand to her face I let her suck my dirty fingers then returned them to gently penetrate her bum. She sighed. "If you want that you're gonna have to make it wetter."

Challenge accepted.

Flipping her onto all fours, I began to lick, probe and prepare her bottom for invasion. Such a delicious rear, firm yet elastic enough where I needed it most. She cried out as I pushed my fat cock in. Fuck she was tight, grinding back against me inch by vice-like inch, whimpering as I reached the base. When I picked up speed she began masturbating, which continued throughout her orgasm. And mine.

Showering together was her idea. We definitely needed it. I couldn't resist going down on her again, warm water raining from her tidy thatch and splashing my face as she gripped the shower screen and came with a gasp. I knelt there watching her body twitch, gradually regaining her composure. She sucked in a deep breath and smiled. Turns out she was full of kinky ideas.

"Ever had a woman pee on you before?"

"Nope."

"I'm kinda desperate after that orgasm and the booze. Would you…?"

I was surprised, but far be it for me to disappoint. "Where would you like me?"

"You're fine as you are."

She spread her juicy slit and bent her knees, aiming at my chest. Even under the warmth of the shower, her clear stream was hot as it splashed against my pecs, ran through my pubic hair and drained away, spiralling with the shower water. It felt dirty, but kind of thrilling. I'd been drowned in female ejaculate more times than I dared count, but pee wasn't something I'd ever considered before. And she certainly looked like it did something to her internal circuitry, her mouth falling open.

After her flow dribbled to a stop, we ended up groping and soaping one another to a frenzy, her lathered hand jacking my shaft until I was rock hard again. She turned around and begged me to fuck her arse once more as the water cascaded off her shoulders, dappling my chest while we bucked as one. Utterly depraved, I loved it.

I swirled the cappuccino and smiled at Alina for the twentieth time. Poor girl couldn't get enough of my charms. A bit like Laura in that regard. Against my better judgement I'd taken a contract at an upstart to spec their IT infrastructure. The CEO seemed fairly switched on and they were offering ludicrous money to get it done quickly ready for launch. Fifteen grand. Three weeks' work for my crew. 'Vulture capitalists', as I call them, had swooped and injected more money than sense into the business in exchange for varying chunks of the post-launch pie. But what sealed the deal for me was Laura.

A late 30s brunette with big tastes and bigger tits, she exuded status. Her hair dusted the shoulders of a killer body for her age, with only faint signs of wear around the edges, and intense emerald eyes behind designer glasses. At the initial negotiation meeting she breezed into the boardroom in a charcoal pencil skirt and aqua blouse. I could hardly wrench my eyes off her as she glided around the table to sit opposite me, taking notes with a curious air of demure confidence, occasionally sliding the tip of her pen between lightly glossed lips.

Clearly she had influence over who was appointed, though I couldn't tell if she liked me. I tried not to stare, but she was magnetic. Powerful. Maybe it was the challenge of attaining the unattainable older woman, but I knew at that moment I had to have her.

Over the contract period we saw a lot of one another professionally. She had a Southern twang to her voice, more Home Counties than the grating London drawl. Maybe Surrey or Sussex. Yet I found her hot/cold nature baffling. She could be cheeky and playful one minute, then somewhat aloof the next. Despite my best efforts at employing trademark ambiguous statements to garner a response, she virtually withstood them all.

It only made me want her more.

My attempts to profile her like every other woman met resistance. She had barriers I hadn't encountered in anyone else, perhaps erected through age or bitter experiences. It was frustrating, to the point that on more than one occasion I didn't go straight home, hit a club, sank some shots, chatted up the hottest thing I could find and fucked her senseless, all the while imagining it was Laura's cries echoing off the walls.

Every so often I'd see a flash of mischief in Laura's eyes when we talked, but it would fade quickly, normally when her husband was nearby. I sensed she loved him – perhaps it was more admiration -- but wondered if he satisfied her, and if not why the hell not. Given the chance, I'd be in her every day.

I did manage to draw her on the subject once as we chatted about favourite foods. "So what would be your ideal dinner date then?"

"Cantonese. There's a gorgeous one in the next village that we visit. Used to visit," she corrected.

"Did it shut down?"

"No, we just haven't… had time." A faraway look eclipsed her freckled cheeks. "We love each other dearly, I just need to accept that the businesses he starts are his mistresses."

Something unspoken passed between us and I became excited at the longing in her eyes as she set them on mine. She shook her head quickly and changed the subject, but the chink in her armour had been revealed: loneliness. Maybe the pair of them were usually frisky, but the lead-up to the launch had taken its toll on his time and energy, while she became restless. The key to her underwear, therefore lay in empathising with her predicament.

A couple of days later, towards the end of the contract, I made sure to snap a few times then apologise. Said it was stress about finishing on time, but could sense she was intrigued. When quizzed about it one lunchtime, I confided that I was going through a rough patch with my girlfriend. In truth, the only rough patch I'd been in was the pussy of a girl called Faye the night before. I implored Laura not to mention my situation to the guys because it'd probably work itself out, but the seed had been sown. She looked at me differently from then on. Opened up a little more.

Back in the game, I just had to close the deal.

I was invited to the launch after-party at their mansion. The place truly was fantastic, with a central staircase sweeping up to balconies ether side of the great hall in which animated chatter ebbed, piano music flowed, and canapés were consumed. The chandelier was something else.

Hobnobbing isn't my thing, but it was likely to lead to more business so I whored myself around the room to the suits, swapping cards. It did give me a last chance to admire-slash-ogle Laura in a sensational burgundy strapless evening gown, complete with black velour opera gloves and four-inch heels. She'd accentuated her delicate neckline with a silver chain and heart-shaped pendant that probably cost what I earn in six months. I thickened at thoughts of nuzzling her neck, brushing her shoulders, whipping off her dress and laying waste to the treasures beneath. She seemed distracted, though. Slightly withdrawn as she downed her second flute of champagne. Maybe they'd argued prior to the shindig.

My path ultimately led me to stand alongside my employer.

"Ahhh, here he is, man of the moment." He clapped me on the back, turning conspiratorially to the greying businessmen in his midst. "He's worth his weight in gold, this one."

I nodded curtly and quipped, "As are you, Troy."

The suits laughed and Troy gave a thin-lipped smile. “Very droll.”

“Thank you. Speaking of which, I'll take gold if you have any to settle the balance.”

“I don't.”

“Then cash is fine.”

Troy blinked. “You're expecting it now?”

“Not this minute. But we agreed half up-front, half on completion. Isn't the launch 'completion'?”

He seemed a little irritated to be discussing the deal in front of his buddies. “Of course. Tell you what, come by the office Monday, Melissa will sort you out.”

“Sorry, I'm not around next week.”

He sighed. “Okay. Find me later and we'll settle up.”

Laura interjected, stepping alongside us and catching hold of my arm on one side and his shoulder the other. “Honey," she purred. "You look after the guests, I'll take care of Mr. Noble if you like.”

He regarded his wife, some ten years his junior. “Thank you, darling.”

The air fizzed as she led me away. Besides the occasional contact during the failed attempts at wooing her, we'd barely touched. The warmth of her body made me tingle. Was "taking care" a euphemism for what I hoped? Had I done enough to snare her at the eleventh hour?

We breezed up the staircase together, leaving the chatter behind and she guided me left to a large set of double doors with ornate handles, slipping inside ahead of me. It was the master bedroom. A colossal four-poster that would dominate my whole apartment, looked minuscule against one of the huge walls. She was nonplussed as it was her home, but I was taken aback by the sheer grandeur of everything, from the ottoman and writing bureau to the art on the walls and springy carpet.

She spun. "You like?"

I nodded. "Wow."

"Me, not the décor."

"Oh. Yes. Stunning."

She beamed, more at ease away from the party. Maybe the alcohol was talking. "I'll get your money. Just need to use the bathroom a moment."

I circled the room, still aghast at the opulence. The TV on its pivot had to be over fifty inches, and the wall lamps from which soft glows emanated looked to be solid silver. Entrepreneurialism wasn't without its material benefits.

The click of the en-suite door signalled her re-entry and I turned, my jaw dropping. Naked, save for the heels, and opera gloves to her elbows. She pirouetted again, ballerina style. "Prefer this look?"

I goldfished. "Uhh, I… yeah. But-" I checked over my shoulder reflexively, "-if he sees you… us like this I'll find a horse's head on my pillow."

She chuckled and strode to a picture on the wall, moving it aside to reveal the safe. Very James Bond. I watched her flawless behind flex as she keyed in the code and the mechanism unlatched with a whirr. "Seventy-five hundred?" She didn't wait for an answer, counting out packets of what looked like 50s, removing the rubber bands from each as she went.

Closing the safe, she strutted within inches of me, her scent as tantalising as her body. At the edge of the four-poster she launched the stack of bills into the air and they fluttered to the sheets as she clambered on and laid face-up in the scattered pile of money. "Come and get it."

I gawped, nailed to the spot despite a naked siren and a hundred and fifty paper reasons to approach the bed. "Why now?"

"You put so much effort in. I couldn't let it go unrewarded."

"So, all this time you…"

"… were playing hard to get," she finished. "You know how tough you are to resist? I've seen the hunger in your eyes, Ryan. It makes me feel alive. Desired. I haven't seen that look in anyone for months. I want to feel wanted again." She waved two wads of notes she'd kept the bands on. "Here's another thousand if you do it before he finds us."

I fumbled with my shoes.

"That's far enough," she called. "Clothed is fine."

As I approached the bed and crawled on she scissored her legs open, her fuzz of hair moist with anticipation. She placed the stack of bills on her belly and I wasted no more time, diving for the wet snatch I'd lusted after for weeks. She was like a fine wine that improved with age. A fragrant bouquet with a delicious tang as her nectar slithered against my tongue and I drank. Made the Chloes of the world seem like Lambrini in comparison.

Though I hardly needed tutelage, Laura's fingers ran through my brown hair to clutch the base of my skull and guide me to where she needed, beginning to pant. I grazed, licked, sought her clit peeking from its dark hood and she groaned. "Oh Ryan, yes."

I lifted a fraction, savouring her lithe, damp form beyond the money stacks, our eyes connecting. She fluttered hers closed as she saw the want in me and I circled her clitoris, languid yet insistent. "Fuck yes." It was the first time I'd heard her swear. But not the last. "Ohhh, make me come, yesssss," she hissed.

Introducing a digit to her drooling entrance, I slid inside easily and began sawing back and forth wetly. "Oh God, yes. So good. Ohhh. Ooohhh."

Her snapping pussy caught me by surprise. Hadn't expected her to come so soon, but I wasn't complaining. Her juices were thick and I lapped every drop of mouth-watering grool before sitting up.

Laura drifted, eyeing me through half-closed lids, then pointed at my trousers and crooked her finger. I unzipped my fly and moved the underwear aside, my phallus springing towards her, full and veined. She let out a little squeak, chewed her lip and whispered, "Just fuck me."

I crawled over her and sank inside with no resistance. She sighed as our faces drew level and tasted herself from my lips, tongues lancing, our bodies beginning a harmonious rhythm. She was a sensual, wet, passionate lover, becoming wilder and more animated as my cock repeatedly split velvet insides that drooled desire, staining my trousers. I didn't care.

My usual self-control evaporated when she swished her gloved arms in the cash, grabbing fistfuls of notes, her mouth open, pulling my tie and stuffing money inside my shirt. "Fuck you're so BIG. Earn every penny. Come inside me. Fill my aching pussy."

Her legs wrapped my torso and she bucked against me, grabbing my head and kissing me roughly, moaning and gasping into my mouth. I roared and unleashed slash after slash of hot spunk where she needed it most, crushing her to the bed, sated. Fulfilled. Bought.

That was three days ago and I've yet to find a horse's head anywhere. My company's up fifteen grand, another one in my wallet, and I got to fuck the client's wife. Win-win-win.

I sank the remainder of the drink, the caffeine swirling my system, returning the cup to Alina, promising to hook up later in the week. She smiled sweetly and I reciprocated, genuinely looking forward to her sexy screams. The world really is my theme park, its women the rides, and I have an all-access pass that money simply cannot buy.

Stepping to the exit, I held the door for a strawberry blonde in a low-cut top who was also leaving. I followed her out, watching her arse rising and falling rhythmically in tight jeans, the familiar surge welling inside me, thickening, lengthening.

My fingers traced the wallet's outline. The office could wait a little longer.