by Abby Lee
I can’t wait to try out my new manoeuvres on another guy now.
Sunday 13th March
The hand-job triumph set me thinking about a one-night stand I had a few years ago, which ended up in another kind of hand job altogether – one that was considerably less satisfying.
I met Rick through film work; we had been on the same project for a couple of weeks and got on well together … He was a gentle, intelligent soul, with a mind as dirty as my own. Naturally I was smitten; I thought he was definitely Potential Boyfriend Material.
At the wrap party, plied by much alcohol, things finally stepped up a gear. He called me over to him on the dance floor, placed a hand on my shoulder and asked me,
‘What do you think of masturbation?’ and then grinned at me widely, not a bit coy.
I pondered on this for a moment before I replied as truthfully as I could.
‘Well, I think it’s great; I rather enjoy it in fact.’
He laughed. ‘No, I meant, what do you think of guys masturbating? You know, watching them do it?’
Again I thought it best to be truthful. I leant into him and said softly in his ear, ‘I think it’s lovely, it’s like seeing the most intimate thing a guy could do.’
His expression changed and he stared at me fixedly. ‘Does it turn you on, then?’ he asked.
‘Very much so,’ I practically whispered, as he leant in towards me and planted a soft kiss on my lips.
Thirty minutes later we were sitting in the starkly lit living room of his shared house, refuelling our drunken bodies with more beer. We sat at opposite ends of the couch, not so confident now we were out of the dingy nightclub.
After a while he broke the silence: ‘Do you mind if I play with myself?’
I was a little stunned and mumbled something incoherent, feeling myself blush at his forwardness.
‘Would you mind if I masturbated?’ he repeated, ‘Seeing you sitting there looking so gorgeous is really turning me on.’
Well, who was I to refuse such a polite request? I agreed, and he immediately pulled out his cock and began to stroke it.
With a mixture of apprehension, curiosity and horniness, I watched him play with himself. It was absolutely gripping – so to speak – I was transfixed by the sight of this man gazing at me, and pleasuring himself.
I felt my nervousness begin to disappear as I got increasingly aroused. I moved to his side of the couch, swung my hips over him, pushed my breasts into his face and kissed him deeply. We moved together for a while, tugging at each other’s clothes, then stumbled half dressed into his bedroom.
He peeled off all his clothes and laid me on my back, telling me to play with myself. Then he knelt between my legs, his cock in his own fist, watching me. As he fondled himself, I began to lose my inhibitions and started to stroke myself too. It was very intense and intimate: our hands moving in synchronisation as we pleasured ourselves.
When he came the first time, all over my belly, it felt like we were connected and his enjoyment was part of something between us. We relaxed and snogged a bit, and I thought about how much I liked him. Then he started to masturbate again.
When he came the second time, all over my thighs, I felt a little disappointed. I had wanted to have penetrative sex, but he kept saying ‘Isn’t safe sex the best!’ as he yanked away, grabbing my breasts with his spare hand, so I didn’t say anything.
When he came the third time, all over my tits, I felt used. I was no longer a girl he wanted to be intimate with, or get to know, I was just there to help him get off. Wank fodder, basically. He didn’t even look at me as he orgasmed, and he didn’t seem bothered about whether I was having fun or not.
Maybe it was all the alcohol, but I couldn’t orgasm. I had too many thoughts running through my head. I liked him, but now suspected that I was just an easy fuck as far as he was concerned. I decided to test the water, and in my non-assertive way, I mildly hinted at our meeting up again, and offered my phone number.
He fobbed me off with a vague ‘of course we’ll hook up’ and ‘you know how to get hold of me’, before drifting off to sleep and snoring loudly. He may have liked me before, but now he had got me into bed, he didn’t want me any more.
As I lay there, wide awake with my thoughts, I was filled with self-hatred and regret. I felt like I had ruined a perfectly good opportunity for something to develop by allowing desire to rule my head and jumping into bed with him far too quickly.
As he lay next to me, I felt terribly alone. All I wanted was to get out of there, to stop the conflict in my head and the pounding in my heart.
I waited for the dawn to arrive, and when it did, I quietly put on my clothes, grabbed my bag and crept to the door. As I opened it I heard ‘Not even going to leave me a note, then?’ and I turned to see him sitting up in bed looking at me.
I walked back over to him and made some excuse about having to leave early to prepare for a meeting. He ran his hand around my back and down to my arse, giving it a gentle squeeze.
‘Come back to bed,’ he coaxed, ‘I’m already hard thinking about you.’
So he had ‘morning wood’ and was looking for a way to get off. I fancied him, and I wanted to fuck him, but I wanted more than to be just his masturbatory fantasy. If that was all he wanted from me, I wasn’t going to stay there and let him wank over me again.
So I said my goodbyes and left.
We barely spoke again after that; I saw him on a few different jobs and we avoided each other.
Although this experience wasn’t great, it did help me learn a lot about having casual sex: a one-night stand is all fine, good and a lot of fun, just so long as that is all you want from that person. Don’t embark on casual sex with someone that you want a relationship with.
Even if the thought of them naked makes you wet.
Thursday 17th March
I have discovered that my arms are too short.
⋆ Not too short to lift a cocktail glass to my lips and sip my drink elegantly
⋆ Not too short to wave flirtatiously at the handsome man who smiled at me today
⋆ Not too short to wipe the sweat from my brow as I try to beat my five miles in 50 minutes run around the park
⋆ Not too short to scribble frenetically as I write in my diary
⋆ And not too short to fiddle regularly
No. But they are too short to do the one thing I have spent the last three days attempting to do: fist myself. Since Ben did the three-finger slide on me, I have been curious to find out what it might feel like to have a whole hand inside me.
So I have been stretching, contorting and bending until I’m doubled over, and I still can’t get my fist in past the knuckles. I’m sure I could fit my whole hand in – but I seem to be hindered by the length of my arms and they just won’t reach far enough to give me the ‘angle of perfection’ that I am looking for. Dammit!
Is it possible that I cannot fist myself? Maybe I’m just going to have to rely on a willing lover to do it for me instead.
I do hope I can find someone who will oblige.
Friday 25th March
‘You know what I really need?’ I said to Fiona, as I took a swig from my Martini and looked at my phone beeping with another text from Blog Boy. ‘I need something easy and simple with a guy; none of this “I like you, but the timing is wrong” stuff – it’s too much hassle.’
Fiona nodded at me. ‘Don’t we all, darling; that’s the problem – it’s always complicated. Men – they’re just not able to do things without getting their knickers in a twist. They’re just as fucked up as we are, probably more so.’ She pointed at my phone. ‘Still calling you, eh?’
I nodded. ‘He said he just wants to be friends …’
‘And you? What do you want?’
I shrugged. ‘Well, I’d love to shag him; that goes without saying. But, I like him as a person too. So, I don’t know …’
‘Let me ask you a question, then,’ Fiona said, finishing off her moji
to in a quick gulp. ‘If he called you tomorrow and said he was keen on getting to know you, what would you say?’
I thought for a moment. ‘OK, you got me: I would probably say yes, but I would also want to shag him as soon as I could.’
Fiona laughed, ‘Of course.’ Then she looked at me seriously. ‘But he said he didn’t want to get involved, didn’t he?’
I nodded.
‘Look, Abby, forget him. Don’t bother; it’s just wasting your time. Find someone else – a bloke you can just shag – have some fun.’ She winked at me. ‘What about him over there?’
I turned and saw a lanky blond guy drinking a pint at the bar. Fiona certainly knew my type: he was gorgeous, but barely into his twenties.
‘I think he’s a bit young,’ I said, and turned back to her.
‘They’re always grateful for an older woman’s experience!’ Fiona replied, and we both laughed and carried on chatting.
Later, as we staggered drunkenly to our separate bus stops, I saw the young guy again. He appeared to be waiting for the same bus as me.
What luck, I thought, this must surely be fate.
As the bus pulled in, the young guy got in the queue behind me.
‘About time the bus arrived!’ he said and grinned at me.
Bless. Young and sweet. How cute. I smiled back at him.
We made small talk, found empty seats and sat next to each other. It turned out that he lived down the road from me, and again I felt as though fate was trying to tell me something: shag this young man. So I flirted with him. And when we got off at the same bus stop, I smiled at him, moved towards him and kissed him softly on the lips.
He hesitated for a moment, slightly shocked by how upfront I was, then leaned in and snogged me back. It wasn’t long before his cock was pressed up against my thigh and I was whispering in his ear that he should come back to my place and fuck me hard.
He didn’t need me to ask twice; he grabbed my hand and we made our way up to my tiny flat and fell drunkenly onto my bed.
We shagged with a gleeful passion and he was certainly enthusiastic. Ten minutes later and he was ready to go again, but the fact that he was ever ready didn’t make up for his lack of technique. I think he must never have done anything other than fuck like a rabbit – and I don’t mean the battery-operated version, either.
All he was capable of was the old in-out, in-out pump action, and in my drunken state I couldn’t be bothered to intervene and teach him a thing or two. If it hadn’t been a one-night stand I would have shown him some new tactics but three (selfinflicted) orgasms in, I just wanted to roll over and go to sleep.
When we woke up this morning, he told me he was 22 – ten years younger than me! I suppose that explains everything. It was only after I’d packed him off home that it occurred to me that he might have been a virgin. Hope to God I didn’t scar him for life, but when I remember the grin on his face as he hammered away, I don’t think that’s likely.
Could have just been his surprise at scoring at the bus stop, though.
Tuesday 29th March
‘Franklin is a lovely guy,’ Kathy said to me last night, as we polished off the meal she had just cooked.
‘He sounds it,’ I replied, gulping down some more wine and beginning to feel it going to my head.
‘It’s such a shame. He’s been in a state for a while now.’
‘So it wasn’t amicable, then?’
Kathy shook her head. ‘God no. She was a complete bitch to him. They haven’t spoken for months.’
‘Poor bloke. He’s been taking it badly, I imagine?’
‘Well, they were together for over a decade. And now they hate each other.’
‘Fuck, that’s horrible. I can’t begin to imagine what he must be going through now.’
‘Well, his self-esteem has taken a hit, but he’s doing a bit better now.’
‘Good for him.’
‘But you know what Franklin really needs?’ Kathy asked, as she poured me another glass of wine.
‘A shag, I bet. Lots of meaningless shags.’
‘Yup. He hasn’t been single for a very long time, you know – not since his early twenties. He’s probably got no confidence with women at all now.’
‘Fuck, he missed out on the mid-twenties shagging around thing, then?’ I remarked, sad on his behalf.
‘Exactly; she was the only person he slept with that whole time. And now he’s got a lot of catching up to do.’
‘Poor bloke. I feel for him.’
‘He’s very cute, you know,’ Kathy said, as she took a large swig of wine from her glass.
‘I’m sure he is,’ I said, gulping more wine down too.
‘You’d like him,’ Kathy grinned at me slyly.
‘He sounds like a decent chap.’
‘You two would get on brilliantly, he’d have you laughing all night.’
‘Kathy, where are you going with this?’
‘I think you know.’
‘You want me to shag him, don’t you?’
‘Oh, come on! It’d be a win/win situation!’
‘Not necessarily true.’
‘Why not?’
‘Well, for starters, he’s just come out of a long-term relationship.’
‘And therefore he’s in need of some fun. I know you would make sure he had that.’
‘Well yes, but no. You underestimate where his head might be at. He’s hurting right now – having a shag might just screw with his mind, rather than help him.’
‘OK, true, but I also know that he’s not looking for anything meaningful, so a quick shag might give him the boost he needs to feel happier about himself,’ Kathy said, trying to sound persuasive.
‘Well, fair enough,’ I agreed, ‘in terms of ego-boosting. But I still think it’s dodgy: a one-night stand with a girl he picks up in a bar is probably a better idea.’
‘But he’s been out of the game for more than a decade. What makes you think that he would even be able to chat up a girl?’
‘Fair point; but the fact that he knows you and I know you, would put him in an awkward situation, don’t you think?’
‘Not at all. The very fact that I know you both means that neither of you are random fuckwits. He would relax with you more, I think, than with some stranger.’
I shook my head. ‘I disagree.’
‘Why? You’re a nice person, relaxed, laid-back, friendly. You wouldn’t take the piss out of him, or take advantage of him, and you are good in bed. Well, you sound like you are, anyway.’
‘All true, cheers! But you are forgetting one very important factor.’
‘What’s that then?’
‘He’s only slept with one person over the last decade.’
‘And?’
‘And,’ I continued, ‘faced with another woman, he might feel anxious …’
‘I doubt it,’ Kathy said, unconvinced.
‘Hear me out …’
‘OK …’
‘He might worry that he won’t be able to satisfy her. How can he know that the skills he has used on the same woman over the last ten years will transfer to another woman so easily?’
Kathy pondered on this for a moment.
I continued, ‘And even though he may be totally wrong, with that in mind, he may end up losing his erection, or coming too quickly, or, even not at all.’
‘True. But knowing you, you’d just end up doing something else and still having fun, right?’
‘Yeah, of course; it’s no big deal to me, whatsoever. But for him, it’d be a different story. He may feel embarrassed about it, and because we both have you as a mutual friend, it may worry him that his “prowess” – or lack of – gets “reported” back to you.’
‘I see what you mean,’ Kathy said, nodding.
‘What I am saying is, if he were to go soft with a stranger he picked up in a bar, he might not give a shit, because he would never have to see them again. But being with me, and knowing me, through you, is a differe
nt matter.’
‘I agree with what you are saying – really. But I still think he would be up for it. He’d like you, I know it. And you two could have some fun together.’
‘How do you know he’d even fancy me?’
‘Come on, what’s there not to fancy? You’re intelligent, sexy and have big tits. He’s into buxom women big time.’
‘Well, that’s a starting point I suppose, but who’s to say that five minutes into a conversation with him, I don’t find him yawningly dull and he doesn’t find me brain-numbingly boring?’
‘Oh, for fucks’ sake, Abby. I know both of you, you’ll get on like a house on fire, trust me.’
‘OK, OK, enough said, but honestly though, he’s not looking for anything serious right now, is he? Because I don’t want to go there if he is.’
Kathy laughed. ‘No, not at all. You’d be like a bit of light relief to him, helping him move on.’
I frowned at her. ‘You make it sound like Franklin is a charity case.’
‘He is. Come on, he’s gorgeous, funny, sexy and broken-hearted. And you need a shag. How can you say no?’
‘I’m not sure about this.’
‘Oh, come on! Think about it, OK?’
‘Alright. I’ll think about it …’ I said, and meant it.
The Girl’s Guide to Date Speak
What is said Women mean Men mean
I’ll call you in the morning to confirm our lunch Before 11 a.m. When you’re just about to buy a sandwich, I’ll call
I’ll call you in the afternoon to confirm our dinner Before 4 p.m. Just as you’re heading out the door to meet me for dinner
I’ll call you later Later today Possibly at some point in the future
I’ll call you tomorrow Tomorrow Maybe in the next few days; maybe not
I’ll call you at the weekend Between Friday and Sunday Sunday or Monday – after the football
I’ll call you in a couple of days 2-3 days 4-6 days
I’ll call you in a couple of weeks Within 2-3 weeks Possibly within a month or so
I’ll call you soon Within a month I’ll keep your phone number handy just in case we meet again