I woke the next morning with an aching head, a still hard and hugely painful penis, a whopping hotel bill and a beautiful young woman on either side of me.
If this was sex, I was hooked.
Chapter Sixteen
Kayleigh’s and Bianca’s smiles as they left the hotel room were much more important to me than the good review the band got for that gig. From then on I went home with a different girl, or more, after every gig we played, and sometimes in between. It wasn’t long after that that we switched to Sony and released Crumpin’, which you may remember went Gold. I moved out of the house in Hampstead, of course, and got a shag pad in Chelsea. At first I let the girls stay overnight, or even for the weekend, but as we became more successful, they seemed to get more clingy and eventually I got a security guy and he’d get rid of them afterwards.
I couldn’t stand to do it myself. I couldn’t deal with the look of disappointment I’d get. What were they thinking? Why would they imagine I’d fall in love with them? They knew I shagged a different girl every night. I hated to disappoint, but I was definite about not wanting anything long term. It was just the sex I needed, and not even that, just the feeling of wanting to be loved. I wanted to know everyone felt it, not just one or two girls with tiny skirts and smaller IQs.
I got better at it too. I read what they wrote about me in the kiss’n’tells, about my performance. Though I never responded to journos myself, if I detected any hint of dissatisfaction, I’d work on it the next time. One girl said she felt I was less keen to go down on her than to make her suck me off, so the next night I tongued a girl for so long she came three times then begged me to stop. Another time I read I’d been a bit too gentle so the next girl found herself strapped to the bed as I rammed my dick into her harder and harder until the bed collapsed. In hindsight maybe there was a hint of overcompensation there.
That year is pretty much a blur though. I must have slept with more than a hundred girls. Maybe two hundred. Two gigs a week on average and one or two girls after almost every one. The only times I didn’t score were the times I suffered from nervous exhaustion, and a period of a couple of months when I was getting over a mild STD. That’s right, I was sometimes so out of it that I didn’t use a condom. Still, sitting with the nurse in a cold exam room was enough to change my habits in that regard. Now I toggle up every time without fail. Sometimes I even keep one in my underwear if I know it’ll be a big night.
Coke, music and sex were the only things I was interested in. And the music came a distinct third, as any of you who listened to our second album would probably agree. I ended up in rehab eventually. And though that helped my drug addiction, it did nothing for the lust for sex.
On the third or fourth night I was in the clinic, I’d just got to bed when the door opened and a nurse walked in. Now this was my fourth night of cold turkey, so for once I wasn’t thinking about sex so much as the drugs, so I didn’t immediately pay much attention to the fact she was hot. It was only once she pulled open her uniform blouse and revealed two magnificent tits that I stopped thinking about shoving something up my nose and instead started thinking about shoving something else.
‘I’m here to take your mind off your problems,’ she whispered, before shrugging off her uniform and sliding up onto the bed. Coming off drugs does funny things to your body. I hadn’t had a hard-on for days, and it took her a while to get me up, but she managed it. Back before they had Viagra, they used to have these girls in the porn industry whose job it was to get the men hard before their sex scenes. They called them fluffers, and they knew all the tricks. Well, I reckon this girl must have been an ex-fluffer. I wish I could remember all the things she did; I’d try and teach them to every girl I met. The only thing I do remember for sure is that I thought she’d swallowed my entire tackle at one point. I was seriously worried I’d never get it back out of there.
Anyway, she sorted me out and got herself into the reverse cowboy position. Girls usually like it that way cos the guy can reach around and stroke her clit while she controls the pace and length of the strokes. It’s generally harder for the guy to come, and I think she probably knew that. I went for ages, she came twice in the meantime and just as I thought I was about to come she hopped off me and started getting dressed.
‘Wha … wha …?’ I sputtered.
‘All part of the treatment, Mr O’Connor,’ she replied primly and walked out.
Well, in a sense it really did work, because I’d stopped thinking about the drugs, and started thinking about the sex again. But she didn’t know about the sex addiction, or at least I think she didn’t.
Her name was Gloria, I found out, and over the next few weeks she continued the ‘treatment’, the hot little piece of ass. She’d pop in when I was asleep sometimes, and wake me up with a hand job. Or when she was on day shift she’d ambush me in the corridor, pull me into a supply cupboard and bend over a stool for me. She finished me off from time to time, but always left me wanting more. She was the first woman since Lena I wanted to keep seeing. And gradually it seemed to be that she wanted something more as well. I’d thought she was just another slapper at first, wanting to get her kudos and go running to blab to her mates about how she shagged a rock star. But she wasn’t like that. She hardly knew who I was, for a start. She had awful taste in music, all eighties stuff like Madonna and George Michael. We went for walks through the grounds together and got to know each other, in between quickies in the bushes.
She made me understand, or perhaps made me remember, that two people in a relationship together, however unusual it might be, can explore each other, can learn from each other and work together to improve the sex. Do you know what I mean? I mean that it’s better when you know the person. When you know what she likes and she knows what you want. She reminded me of Lena in that way.
One night I received a message to go to a treatment room. When I arrived I knocked and was told to enter. Gloria lay on the gurney, totally naked. On another gurney lay a little mirror with white powder and a rolled-up fifty. I looked back and forth, like a spectator at a tennis match.
‘Choose,’ Gloria said.
There was no contest. I shrugged off my clothes and hopped up onto the gurney with her. We just kissed at first, while she caressed my cock gently. ‘I want to try something different today,’ she said. She handed me a tube of lube and rolled over on to her front, lifting her haunches and displaying her peachy arse. I didn’t need to be asked twice and squeezed a generous helping of lube into her cleft. I rubbed it in gently, and then slipped an exploratory finger into her anus. She pursed her lips and moaned.
‘Can I go on?’ I asked. She nodded. I’d never done this either. To be honest I’d never really thought about it much. I was thinking about it now, worried that I might hurt her but fascinated to know what it would feel like.
I pulled my finger out and rubbed the excess lube onto my cock. Then I positioned the tip at her puckered hole. She rocked back slightly on her knees, invited me in. I pushed forward firmly and felt the end of my cock pressuring her resistant arsehole. Then I felt something give and I was in, the tip at least. It felt damn tight. She groaned a little, with pain or pleasure I couldn’t tell. Probably both. I waited a while as she got used to it, then began gently sliding the first couple of inches inside and out again, careful not to let the tip slip out.
Gradually I worked more and more into her, I could hear her grind her teeth, and her knuckles gripped the edge of the gurney like she was afraid to let go. But she began thrusting back. It was almost painful for me as well, her sphincter muscle clenched tight around my cock head and I had to shove hard to force my way in.
It was different, and interesting, but neither of us came. Not that first time anyway. I pulled out after a time, cleaned off and we finished in more conventional style. As I lay in her arms afterwards, both of us a little sore, but happy, I wondered if I’d found The One.
Once I got out of the clinic, my rehab a resounding success thanks t
o Gloria, I kept seeing her. I was still obsessed with sex, but so was she. She moved in with me and it was bliss. I spent the days practising and the nights gigging, she spent the days sleeping and the night working. We spent the mornings fucking each other’s brains out.
She was experimental, though not kinky. She liked to surprise me. She cooked me a dinner once, making me wait until I was starving, then she swept my plate onto the floor just as I was about to tuck in. Then she hopped up onto the table and spread her legs, inviting me to feast on an entirely different meal. I was angry, as she’d expected and I fucked her senseless, our passion filling my empty belly and eight pints of blood flooding into my engorged cock rather than my stomach.
My musical career started to improve as well. We brought out the Original Victim album and went on tour. Gloria came and joined me for part of the tour. That was wild. Sleeping and shagging in the back of the bus as we travelled from town to town across the US. She had to get back to work after a while and we went on to Japan. Tokyo was mad. I stayed faithful to Gloria, truth was there wasn’t time to screw around, we were that busy. But about a week in, we were in Kyoto and there was some problem with the venue so it was cancelled and we had a free night. We went to a karaoke bar of course, got bladdered and somehow ended up in a strip club. Well, to cut a long story short it wasn’t long before I had half a dozen dancers hanging off me, and what’s a guy to do? I went in the back room for a private dance with two of the girls, not planning on asking for anything more, but the girls had other ideas.
They were beautiful, and could have been sisters. Each had the clearest, smoothest skin and shimmering straight black hair. Shortly they were naked and came over to my chair. One of them sat astride me, rubbing her bare pussy against the swell in my trousers. I’d like to say I was thinking of Gloria and fighting against my conscience, but I wasn’t. All I could think about was how I was going to make them squeal.
The second girl was behind me, she adjusted the chair so that it leaned back, and I found myself looking into her smiling, upside-down face. She kissed me, tickling my lips with her darting tongue as her friend continued grinding her pelvis across the ridge in my jeans.
Then suddenly my flies were open and the one on top had swivelled herself around so her pussy was over my face. She hefted my cock out of my pants, and uttered an astonished cry. Her friend said something in Japanese and they laughed a little nervously. A pair of lips attached themselves to my member and I shuddered. The one on top lowered herself onto my face and I nuzzled her. She smelt sweet and her fuzz was soft and silky, I slipped a tongue inside her and she squeaked.
The other lifted my haunches up and began tonguing my balls gently. I felt them tighten as an orgasm built, but the girls weren’t ready for me to come just yet. They stood off me, and giggled with each other. The longer they held me there, on the edge but unsated, the more money they would earn.
‘You heartless bitches,’ I said.
And so it carried on. They’d wait for my hard-on to subside slightly, then start working on me all over again. It was torture, but sweet torture. I’m not sure I would want to repeat the experience now, but I’m glad I went through it. Those girls knew exactly what made men tick. Well, it’s an art I suppose. They say that oriental girls have all this mystical knowledge; well, they used it all that night.
I was in there for three hours. Eventually I told them I’d pay an extra £500 if they’d finish me off. They agreed and set to work. One took hold of my cock again, but further down. She still had control, but less so. The other one took as much of it into her mouth as she could and used her tongue to good effect. She stared right into my eyes, watching for the signal. As I tensed up ready for the final act, she sucked hard while her friend squeezed my shaft and stroked my balls.
I’d been worried she might choke on the gallons of fluid I thought I must have produced by now, but her friend regulated the speed of the release with her grip and it came out slowly over a good thirty seconds. I released a long, guttural groan as I came, writhing in helpless ecstasy as the Asian beauty sucked me dry.
They left me drained of money, energy and semen, but it was the most incredible experience I’ve ever had. I slept like a baby once I finally got back to the hotel, and I can’t say I felt guilty.
Problem was that experience seemed to reawaken something in me. I’d thought I was happy with Gloria, that I didn’t need anyone else, but once the floodgates had been opened, as it were, I couldn’t help myself. I kept telling myself that it was just while were on tour, that once I got back to London I’d be a one-woman man again. The other guys in the band just laughed. Someone decided, I can’t remember who now, maybe it was me, that we should spend the rest of the tour trying to plumb the depths of East Asian depravity before we cleaned up and went back to London.
We made a thorough job of exploring the fleshpots of south Asia over the next couple of weeks. We did three nights in Manila where we visited a dwarf brothel. That was pretty weird. Then in Shanghai we went to this place where hollow-eyed opium addicts had sex on stage with animals. I wasn’t so keen on that. In Phnom Pen we were presented with a couple of girls with red marks all over their arms. I didn’t realise what was going on until one of them took a burning cigarette and stubbed it out on her wrist.
I ran. Why I wanted to see all this stuff I don’t know, I guess I wanted to see how sick other people were, so as to make me feel better myself. I wasn’t into all this sick shit, I just wanted sex. Straight sex, normal sex. That’s okay isn’t it? That’s healthy, isn’t it?
When I got back Gloria wasn’t there. I wasn’t too surprised. I’d hardly called her in the last few weeks. Chances were she’d figured out what was going on.
I was a little hurt, but more than anything I was angry. I’d been unfaithful, but only with prostitutes; that didn’t count as far as I was concerned. I’d passed up the chance to have sex with dozens of normal girls for her. And she couldn’t even be bothered to tell me to my face when it was all over. After the gig the next night, I went out the stage door, pointed to half a dozen girls and took them all back to mine with a bottle of Viagra.
As it happens, six girls turned out to be too many even for me so I sent a cab to pick up the guitarist to come over and help me out. We had ourselves quite a little party that night. The guitarist and I had this little bet to see if we could bring three girls off all at the same time. I got the first one, a little brunette with a tight arse, to sit on my cock. Then I asked a tall African girl to sit on my face and I buried my head between her legs, lapping at her pussy hoping to lose myself in there, hoping that when I woke up I’d be back in Kyoto. She kept squirming and lifting up, so I took hold of one of her thighs and held her against my working jaw. That left one hand free, which I used to stroke the third girl’s mound as she knelt, facing away from me. I realised after a while that she was kissing the brunette. The third girl, a plump blonde, grabbed hold of my hand and began grinding herself against my wrist bone.
They didn’t all come at the same time, but I didn’t really mind losing that bet. The blonde came first, and she helped the brunette to finish off by flicking her tongue against her perky little nipples and stroking her clit as she rode me. The African girl took longest. We finished up lying on our sides, with me behind and her with one leg raised slightly, offering me access. I rubbed her clit as I slid in and out gently and she moaned softly as she came. The two other girls were working on giving each other a second orgasm by the time I’d finished.
Gloria was standing in the doorway, watching the proceedings. That shrunk me quickly than an ice-bath. Even from my position ten feet away I could see the tears in her eyes. Then she turned and left and I never saw her again.
I never did find out what had happened. Why she hadn’t been there when I got back and why she turned up that night unannounced. She never contacted me again and the hospital she worked at told me I wasn’t to visit.
I fell into depression after that. I managed to sta
y off the drugs, apart from Viagra obviously, but the sex just got more and more out of control. I became less discerning about who I invited back and then, one crazy night, I gave my address out on a girl’s MySpace page and was swamped by hundreds of them, and even a few guys. It was fun at first, but there was a three-day orgy and half my stuff had been nicked. The rest had food, booze and other unidentified stains all over it.
I swore off casual sex again after that, and determined to find myself a nice, normal girl. But within a week I caved in and found myself deflowering a seventeen-year-old virgin on her parents’ kitchen table.
Something snapped at that point and I went home afterwards, cried for three hours, then phoned my dad. He came around straight away. I hadn’t seen him for over a year, but he never mentioned that. I expected him to give me a lecture, but he just gave me a hug. A stiff hug, but a hug nonetheless. Then he told me not to worry, that he’d phoned a doctor friend of his who was sorting me out with some help, if I wanted it. I told him I did and, well, here I am.
I know I’m capable of having a normal relationship. I had a sort of normal relationship with Lena, then another one with Gloria. I was happy at both those times. And I was never properly happy when I was single and shagging endless lines of women. I just don’t know … I don’t know how I should be. How I should act? How I can stop myself being … who I’ve been. Do you know what I mean?
Confessions Page 17