People have been talking about angels since the dawn of time, but there is no single definition of what we mean by the word. Are we talking about some heavenly creation all in white with big feathery wings? It's a nice image, a comforting thought that such wonderful beings can be dispatched from above to save us in our time of great need, but it requires a bit of faith in God, which is not a popular trait in this day and age. Perhaps, then, we should gloss over who send us angels and forget the fairytale look they have traditionally been given. Angels can be ordinary people given a special mission to help someone, and they can be female or male, although in my experience they have been women.

You yourself may have been deputised once or twice, given the task of helping someone above and beyond the call of duty, not really knowing what you were doing or why. But it's more likely you were the beneficiary of an angel, given a short period of divine comfort and assistance. And sex can come into it, in my opinion. It certainly has done for me.

There was a time a few years ago when I used to smoke roll-ups and the middle of my lower lip used to get sore and crack. Then a sort of lump would form as the flesh healed, and if this was during the winter, it was a particular problem. If my lips were dry, I was hesitant to smile - although this was a low period anyway, and there wasn't a lot of smiling in my life.

I was working in a hotel bar, and one evening a group of young women came in, a girls' night out. They were all a bit Merry, and a few of them started flirting with me. One of them, Karen, sounded like she meant it, rather than just having a good time and chatting up the barman because he was there and their boyfriends weren't.

Eventually the group sat at a table and only Kare remained, talking to me at the bar. I cursed the other customers who interrupted us: couldn't they see something was going on here? Something was happening, it definitely was.

Anyway, we managed to keep our little bond going until Karen's friends started getting silly about it and she sat down with them. She kept looking over at me and I did my job as quickly as I could, giving myself time to lean on the bar and watch her. She was quite slim and very pretty, with nice medium size breasts and a slight spread around the middle - just how I like my women. Warm and natural. Lived-in. Real.

I liked the way she behaved. While her friends were degenerating into the stereotypical rowdy mob of girls who feel they should behave like boys—the sort of mindless "girl power" raucousness that I find very unattractive—Karen was clearly good fun but not trying to prove anything. She retained some dignity, and with it she retained my admiration. Not to mention my desire. I had every intention of bringing out her uninhibited side later on, and there is nothing sexier than a respectable woman letting her hair down, but I felt comfortable with her as she was right now, in this situation.

As closing time approached, Karen came up to buy the last round, and I asked her what she was doing next.

"They're going into town," she said. "To a club."

"Not you?" I asked hopefully.

"Don't feel like it," she said, looking into my eyes.

"I'll be finished in twenty minutes," I said. "If you hang around we can have a drink together." She continued looking into my eyes, willing me to elaborate. "My place," I said as innocently as I could manage. I could see she liked the idea.

Karen had a car, so she followed me on the short trip to my flat and soon we were in the warmth and privacy of my sitting room. But we weren't sitting. We were standing there, looking at each other. There was what might be called a pregnant silence and then we fell into each other's arms.

As we kissed, I felt my troubled lip and pointed it out to her.

"I can take care of that," she said with the loving practicality of a mother or, yes, an angel. She gently sucked the damaged area and slowly, confidently removed the piece of healing flesh, swallowing it without comment. I was healed. This woman was wonderful.

Without a word, we walked into the bedroom and undressed each other. It was as if we were in another world. We were enchanted, untouchable. I laid her down and kissed her all the way down from her lips to her pubic hair, sucking her nipples, licking her armpits, poking my tongue into her navel, and caressing those super-sensitive areas just above and to the sides.

Then I parted her thighs and licked this incredible girl's beautiful vagina, all pink and soft and innocently welcoming. She parted her legs further as she gave herself to me and she made blissful noises, holding my head gently in the time-honoured fashion of a woman receiving cunnilingus.

Then somehow we knew we had to consummate our union. It was a beautiful mutual decision. Nothing as crude as being desperate to fuck, but inexorably drawn to one another. I moved easily into position, and my cock slid into her fabulous hole. We moved together like ballroom dancers, slick and coordinated in our improvised ensemble performance.

Karen's pillowy inner flesh held my penis firmly and benevolently. Her thighs accommodated me, and her arms held me close. We kissed as we moved, and our tongues danced together too. We were floating on a warm cloud of romantic eroticism that, at the time, I didn't understand. All I knew was that it was otherworldly, and I wanted it to last forever.

But it couldn't last forever because we were two young adults following nature's path, and there were orgasms in the offing. I was getting perilously close, but I had to hang on. I just had to bring this unbelievably lovely creature off. I began moving my hands around her body, stroking her warm, tingling skin. I played with her clitoris, and she tensed a little as if she was on the verge of her own cascade.

Then, without knowing if it was the right thing to do, I found myself with my right hand between her buttocks, caressing that unsung, misunderstood place with all its hot, earthily fragrant mystery. Karen looked into my eyes and smiled the smile of an angel, bathing me in her wondrousness even as her sexual equipment bathed mine in her divine juices. I came in a flood of sweet fluid, delivered for her and only her, mingling with her own.

And you know what? We lay there and relaxed for ten minutes, and then she said she had to go. We both got dressed and stood together by the front door, arms around each other and hearts beating together. We looked deep into each other's eyes as if searching for something, some explanation for the intensity of the feeling that still enveloped us.

Then Karen gave me a peck on my newly-healed lip and she was gone. I watched her from my window as she walked up the street and disappeared. I never saw her again and as the years have passed, through relationships, good times and bad times, passionate instances, and barren periods, I have thought of my blessed night with Karen.

Strangely, we never sought each other out, and I have no idea where she came from or where she went. I did meet some of her friends once, and we said hello, and I heard them discussing me as they walked away.

"You know Karen? She had it with him one night."

"Oh yeah? Any good?"

"Yes, she said he was, actually."

And that was the perfect ending to the whole episode. Not only had I made love to an angel, but she had enjoyed it too.