Buzzing Easter Bunnies

by Nick Spalding

  'You make me sound like a chiropractor,' I reply with a smile.

  'Oh God, sorry!'

  I drag him back in for another kiss. 'Stop apologising, you big idiot. I enjoyed myself immensely, and am definitely looking forward to seeing you again.'

  With this ringing endorsement in his ears, Matt Bunion ambles off down the front garden path and out into the street.

  I'm left standing in the doorway with a rueful smile on my lips. I'm pleased to have got him over such a big hurdle in his life, but I'm still rather plagued by how close I came to jumping over my own this evening... ultimately with no success.

  Maybe I'm bloody cursed.

  It is with this troubling thought that I close the front door, go back into the bedroom, and start to warm my fingers up.

  FIFTY SHADES OF BUNION

  Over the next couple of weeks Matt and I saw each other as much as our schedules would allow. I have to say, each date was better than the last, and by the time Valentine's Day rolled around I was really enjoying myself with him.

  However, as we all know, Valentine's Day is an exquisitely uncomfortable experience when you've been seeing someone for just a few short weeks. You can't brush it off completely, as that would send out entirely the wrong signals to the other person. But equally, you can't make too much of a big deal of the occasion, otherwise you will come across as a crazed bunny boiler. It's a tricky one.

  As Matt and I have developed a relationship based on a refreshing amount of up front honesty, the issue was dealt with neatly in the following conversation:

  'I hate Valentine's Day,' says he.

  'Me too,' says I.

  'Shall we just ignore it, stay out of contact for twenty four hours to avoid awkwardness, and see each other the next day, when all the restaurants have stopped charging double?'

  'That's an excellent idea, Matt!'

  And so it was that Christina Barclay spent Valentine's Day sat happily on the sofa watching Gerard Butler movies, dressed in her fluffiest of fluffy blue dressing gowns, and drinking far too much red wine.

  It is, without doubt, the best Valentine's Day I've ever had, including the nice one I spent in Tenerife with Simon Addison that started well, but went downhill once he suggested going to the nice local karaoke bar. No-one, and I mean no-one, needs to hear me destroy Love Lifts Us Up Where We Belong on the most romantic day of the year. I couldn't have ruined the atmosphere in the bar more if I'd stuck my fingers down my throat at the end of the song and vomited into a pint glass.

  Matt did text me right in the middle of my eighth viewing of 300 to say he was thinking of me, and was slightly drunk in the pub with his friends. He told me he was looking forward to seeing me the next night, when he wouldn't be surrounded by idiots who kept on insisting that The Matrix Reloaded wasn't that bad a movie after all. I replied, wishing him well in his protracted argument, and ended the text by telling him I was looking forward to seeing him as well. It takes a lot to distract me from a Gerard Butler film (especially one where is he dressed in very little, other than a codpiece and helmet) so it's a testament to my interest levels in Mr Bunion that I didn't wait to respond to his text until after the movie had finished.

  I spend my first evening in Matt's flat the following night.

  Until now this has been a no-go area, given that a man in his late twenties who lives alone, is slightly less hygienic than a brain damaged pig. Matt had forked out for a cleaner to come over during the day though, so by the time I get there at 7.30pm, the whole flat smells of lavender and peach blossom. The carpets have also been scrubbed to within an inch of their lives, and it requires sunglasses to step into the gleaming kitchen. Okay, the walls are still covered in sci-fi movie posters, the doorbell still plays the Imperial March from Star Wars, and there is (for some reason) a statue of a giant plastic duck wearing combat trousers in his bedroom, but on the whole Matt has gone to a great deal of effort tonight, which I'm extremely grateful for.

  We'll still be ordering an Indian though. While the cooker is cleaner than it has been in decades, it's still rustier than the railings on the Titanic, and I don't really fancy baking anything in it, for fear of inadvertently tripling my daily iron intake.

  'The place looks lovely Matt,' I tell him, more or less honestly as he gives me a brief guided tour.

  'Pfft,' he replies, 'It looks habitable, which is about the best you can expect without extensive redecoration. Yelena is great, but there's only so much one Slovakian woman can do in three hours on a Saturday afternoon. I tipped her handsomely just for getting rid of that stain in the bathroom I've been too terrified to go near.'

  'Well, you've made an effort, which wins you lots of brownie points, young man.'

  Young man?

  I cringe inwardly. I've just spoken to my new boyfriend the way a boarding school head mistress would talk to one of the more unruly boys, who has finally handed in a decent piece of English homework. It must be the age gap. Or the experience gap. Or both.

  Matt may actually be only three years younger than me, but the giant plastic duck and Star Wars doorbell regress him even further in my mind.

  He doesn't seem to notice my impression of a schoolmarm though, thank God. I know that some men go in for that kind of thing, but this is not the type of woman who would go in for them.

  What I do like to go in for though is a kiss, which is what I do while we're waiting for the takeaway to arrive. Several kisses in fact. And some light fondling. I'm sure we'll be getting on to the more energetic stuff later, but there's nothing wrong with whetting your appetite early, in my book.

  All is going swimmingly until Matt breaks away with a thoughtful look on his face.

  'What's up?' I ask with concern. I don't like it when people look at me thoughtfully. No good can come of it.

  Matt shuffles uncomfortably and has trouble meeting my gaze.

  Really?

  I'm getting dumped already?

  How will my ego get over this one, eh? He's an awkward sci-fi nerd in his late twenties who's only just been relieved of his virginity. Where exactly do I go from here if I can't keep hold of this guy?

  'What's the matter, Matt?' I repeat, with a sinking heart.

  'I've been thinking about your problem,' he says in a quiet voice.

  'What problem?'

  'You know... with not having an orgasm when you're with me.'

  I sigh. Well, at least I'm not getting dumped. It does appear that some ego massaging is in order though, which I could really do without, to be honest. 'It's not just with you, Matt. I told you, it's something I've always had issues with, no matter who it is I've slept - '

  'Yeah! I know!' He holds out his hands to stop me. 'Don't worry, I'm not being insecure about myself or anything. This isn't about my ego.'

  The boy may be inexperienced, and have hair that only a hedge trimmer could love, but he's also very astute when the mood takes him.

  'Then why do you bring it up, when you could be nibbling my neck?'

  This brings out a shy smile, which is a much nicer alternative to the thoughtful look. 'I've... I've been doing a bit of research.'

  'Into what?'

  'Er... women's orgasms.'

  My eyes narrow. 'If this is your way of admitting that you like looking at porn Matt, I'm not your mother, you can look at what you like as long as there are no farm animals involved.'

  He shakes his head. 'No, no, no. I don't mean that.' He grabs his iPad. 'I mean I've been looking at some sites that give advice to women who have trouble reaching a climax and - '

  'Whoa boy!' My turn to hold out the hands. 'I'll stop you right there. I'm a nurse, remember? I've done all the research myself. There's nothing wrong with my bits and pieces. It's all up here in my noggin.' I poke myself in the temple, by way of explanation.

  Matt nods quickly. 'I figured as much. You'd be on top of anything medical, I know. But if you are having issues with your, um, noggin, then it might be a good idea to shake things up a bit.' He points at
the open Safari page on his iPad. 'Some of these sites suggest that being stuck in a sexual rut could be the issue, so to speak. They suggest trying, um, new things to see if that helps.'

  'New things?'

  'Yeah, you know... sex wise.'

  I'm not sure this is the wisest conversation to be having before sex, but I'm willing to give him a chance, as he's obviously been thinking about this a lot - which is very sweet when you get right down to it. 'What sort of new things?' I ask.

  Matt flushes red. 'Kinky stuff.'

  'Kinky stuff?'

  'Yeah. Toys, a bit of bondage, role-playing. That kind of malarkey.'

  'That kind of malarkey?'

  'Yeah. I just thought you might like to try some new things out. I know what it's like to have a deadline on something important, and I'd like to help you meet yours, even though I missed mine by a few weeks. If that means doing some, er, more kinky stuff, then I'm up for it.'

  'I don't have a deadline, Matt, What are you talking about?'

  'Well, you said you'd never had an orgasm with a man, and that you'd like it to happen before your birthday at Easter, so...' Matt trails off, uncertain how to finish such a ridiculous sentence.

  I roll my eyes. Why do men have to turn everything into some kind of epic challenge? 'So, you figured that because you set yourself the goal of losing your virginity before Christmas Day, I might want to do similar with my orgasmic issues, yes?'

  'Pretty much.'

  I slap him on the shoulder. 'Oh for crying out loud, Matt!'

  'I'm sorry! I just thought you might like the idea.' He shrugs his shoulders. 'After all, it might turn out to be fun, and what have you got to lose?'

  I'm spared the task of thinking about what I've got to lose by the sound of the doorbell heralding the arrival of our curry... and a blessed end to this idiotic conversation.

  However, as I make my way through the chicken jalfrezi and keema naan, I start thinking about Matt's last words on the subject.

  What, indeed, do I have to lose?

  I can't pretend that a few 'alternative' sexual methods don't sound interesting, and even if it doesn't cure me of my orgasmic drought, it sounds like it'd be a lot of fun anyway. I've never been one for anything other than straightforward sex before, and it never occurred to me that by experimenting a little I might find a way around the roadblock.

  Also, it's not as if Matt is any kind of expert when it comes to this type of thing either. He'll be just as much a novice as me.

  'You're thinking about it, aren't you?' Matt says mischievously over a forkful of pilau rice.

  'Possibly,' I respond, popping a lump of what I hope is chicken into my mouth.

  He puts down the fork and cocks his head to one side. 'Well... if you fancy having a go at something tonight, I may well have bought a few things.'

  I'm flabbergasted. 'You've bought a load of sex stuff? How did you work up the courage to do that?'

  'You'd be amazed what you can get on Amazon these days. The one day delivery service is fantastic.'

  'Oh, good grief.'

  'What do you say we finish our curry and then maybe go into the bedroom? I can show you what I bought and see if you're, you know, interested in any of it?'

  I give him a suspicious look. 'Are you sure all of this isn't just one big ploy to get me to do all the dirty stuff you've fantasised about since you were eighteen?'

  Matt smiles broadly. 'Of course it is! But only as a side issue. I really would like to help you, the way you helped me Christina.' He takes my hand and his voice drops to a mumble. 'I really do like you a lot.'

  And you know what? I think he really does.

  I'm not sure I'm entirely behind this rather leftfield idea, but I am willing to give it a try. He's just so bloody earnest - with his big silly hair, thick spectacles and near constant expression of good natured befuddlement.

  I put my fork down and take a swig of wine, before standing up from the table. 'Come on then, lover boy, let's see what you've got in store for me.'

  'Now?'

  'Yes, now. I'm pretty much done with eating rubbery chicken for one evening, and my curiosity is piqued.'

  'Oh right. Yes. Okay,' Matt says, flushing red again.

  Sigh.

  If he's going to get this embarrassed before we've even made it to the bedroom, I fear this little experiment of his won't be over until I reach my fortieth.

  'What on God's Green Earth do you expect me to do with that?!' I exclaim in no uncertain terms, as Matt produces a foot long torpedo shaped piece of aquamarine ghastliness from the Amazon packaging box. It is mesmerisingly large. So much so that even Big Rob Pottinger would feel emasculated by it. Half way down its considerable length is a bulgy see-through section containing a load of ball bearings. The handle is chromed and replete with several shiny buttons and knobs.

  It looks less like a sex toy, and more like something Darth Vader would clean his fish tank with.

  'You don't like the look of it then?' Matt says, a bit crestfallen.

  'As a weapon I can fight off burglars with, yes. As something to introduce into my sex life, and my vagina, forget about it.'

  'All the customer reviews said it was very good,' Matt says in defence of his choice.

  'Do they? I'm amazed any of them had the strength to power up the computer.'

  'So, this one's out then?'

  'I'd say so, yes.'

  Matt slips the chrome and blue monstrosity back into the box and produces something much smaller. 'How about this little fella, then?' he says and holds up what looks like a miniature pink rabbit sat on a hula hoop. The small rubber rabbit has a slightly perplexed expression on his face, as if he is surprised to find himself atop a hula hoop - and not in his more customary domain of a hole in the ground.

  'It looks less likely to cause me internal injuries, so that's a start,' I reply cautiously.

  'It's called a Buzzing Bunny. I slip it over... myself, and then turn it on with this button here.' Matt provides me with a demonstration by sliding the toy over three of his fingers and clicking the button just under the rabbit. The whole thing starts to buzz and wobble back and forth. If the rabbit was perplexed before, it now looks mildly terrified as well, thanks to the vibration effect. 'The idea is that the rabbit's ears touch you on the clitoris while we make love.'

  Time for me to do some eye rolling again. 'Yes Matt, it's a bloody cock ring. I know how they work. Just because I've not used these things before, doesn't mean I'm not fully aware of what they are. Nurse, remember?'

  'Good point. Sorry.'

  I place one finger on the end of the rabbit's ears. The sensation is not unpleasant. 'I'm certainly more willing to give this one a go though.'

  'Great!'

  'What else have you got in your magic box of filth, then?'

  Matt gives me a disparaging look, but removes the Buzzing Bunny before delving into the box for a final time. He produces what looks like the kind of thing they use on people in Guantanamo Bay. 'That's a bondage kit, isn't it?' I say to him.

  'Yep! An under the bed bondage kit, actually.' He holds up four velvet covered cuffs attached to several long black nylon straps. 'I thought I could tie you up!'

  'Did you?'

  'Yeah. This is supposed to be really sexy too. You just lie on the bed, tied up so you can't move, and I do lots of stuff to you. It should be fantastic!'

  I take the bondage kit from Matt's sweaty grasp. 'It sounds like a nice idea, but there is one rather fundamental change I think I'd like to make to it... '

  The last Velcro cuff goes around Matt's left ankle, and I sit back to admire my handiwork. 'Comfortable?' I say to a very naked and tied down Mr Bunion.

  Matt's face crumples. 'It's not entirely what I had in mind when I clicked on the one-day delivery button, if I'm honest.'

  'I bet it isn't.'

  He looks up at the tight straps that hold his arms out straight. They disappear under the bed where they fasten together. 'To be frank, the whole t
hing is a bit disconcerting.'

  Not from where I'm sitting. From where I'm sitting, I have a helpless, naked, and attractive man all to myself. A small and unexpected shiver of excitement runs through me. 'Let me see if I can make it less disconcerting for you,' I tell him in a husky voice, and grab the one extremity on his body not tied down with a Velcro cuff.

  Within a few seconds little Bunion is standing proud and doing a passable imitation of a sun dial. I continue to maintain his happy state by increasing the speed of my hand, which causes him to test the strength of those Velcro cuffs most satisfactorily.

  Oh my.

  Who'd have thought it? That Christina Barclay, a girl who has never thought of herself as a dominatrix-type, is enjoying having a man under her complete control? One tied down to a bed and helpless!

  Usually, when I'm dealing with someone lying on a bed, it's to change a dressing, or possibly to remove a bedpan - two things that couldn't be further away from being sexy if they tried. It comes as something as a surprise to be turned on quite as much as I am.

  'Just call me Christina Grey,' I say with a giggle.

  'Who?'

  'You know, like the guy from that book?'

  Matt stares at me blankly. 'What guy? What book?'

  'Never mind.' I guess I shouldn't be entirely unsurprised that a sci-fi geek like Matt has no idea what I'm on about.

  To put things back on track, I kiss the end of his penis and smile wickedly. 'I think I need to get naked too,' I tell him, and divest myself of all my clothing.

  'Do you... do you want to try the buzzing bunny?' he asks, catching his breath.

  I hesitate for a moment. Right now, I'm enjoying this bit of light experimentation, but I don't know whether the introduction of a battery operated piece of apparatus is necessarily the best move.

  Then again, I never thought bondage was my thing, but apparently it is, so why not give the perplexed looking bunny a go, and see what all the fuss is about?