by Sam Anthony
They’re perfect. The left one is my favourite; it’s just slightly bigger.
“You have such a hot, little arse.”
“This massive, wobbly thing! You must need your eyes testing. Stop looking at it.”
I can’t.
Sophia is more voluptuous and probably has a more conventionally attractive figure than Tamsin, but I’m more aware of her flaws: a sprinkling of grey hair, some cellulite, the varicose veins, her wobbly bits starting to head southward.
I simply don’t notice Tamsin’s imperfections until she points them out. I’m too busy being grateful that she’s naked in front of me.
I can’t remember the last time Tamsin paid me a compliment about my naked body. Sophia, however, is effusive in her flattery, and I love it. She makes me feel appreciated and admired, but I can’t help wishing it was Tamsin doing the admiring, not Sophia.
◆◆◆
“It’s nothing to do with me!” I say.
It really is though. How do I get out of this?
“Condom wrappers don’t just miraculously appear in toilet bowls, Lee. Someone put it there.”
I read some good advice recently on the internet: when accused by your partner, rather than getting annoyed or trying to bluff your way out of the situation, it’s better to laugh at their suspicions. By getting cross, you’re signalling to your loved one that you have a negative response to their accusation, rather than a bewildered one. Also, anger can quickly lead to an argument, and arguments have a tendency to go on for some time and dwell in the back of the mind.
I try to laugh, but to my ear it sounds insincere.
“Perhaps it was John.”
“Lee, he’s eleven! What would he be doing with a condom and why would he flush it down our loo?”
“Don’t they sometimes hand them out at school in sex education classes, so the kids can practice putting them on bananas?”
“At age eleven?” Tamsin says.
“When do you think they start having sex? Anyway, I’ve heard sex education is much more effective these days?”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. There haven’t been any reports of bananas getting people pregnant for over five years.”
“This isn’t funny, Lee!”
She’s not even slightly amused, but I was quite pleased with that one.
“What if it’s Charlie?” she asks.
Neither of us is laughing now. I know it’s not Charlie, but just the thought of it is alarming. It’s only a matter of time until my fourteen-year-old daughter becomes sexually active. If I had my way, she’d have nothing to do with boys until she’s thirty.
To save myself, I’m tempted to go along with the theory that the condom wrapper was put there by Charlie. Does that make me a terrible father? Yes. But I’m already a terrible husband.
“You don’t think Charlie’s having sex?” I say.
“It’s possible. A girl in her geography class had a baby last year.”
“What! Charlie wouldn’t do that, would she?”
“I honestly don’t know. Should we talk to her?” Tamsin says.
How do I respond? If I agree to us interrogating Charlie, she will rightfully deny any knowledge of the condom. As will John. Then I’ll become the prime suspect. If I disagree, at least there will be some uncertainty about the true culprit, but the shadow of suspicion will be cast over my kids for a long time to come.
◆◆◆
The following Monday, shortly after arriving at work, I popped into Sophia’s office. She looked up as I entered and gave me a warm, welcoming smile. It was apparent that she was delighted to see me, and it made me feel special. Sophia was very good at making me feel special: she listened attentively and seemed genuinely interested in whatever I had to say; she maintained eye contact with me for far longer than was really necessary; she paid me compliments; she noticed when I had my hair cut or wore new clothes; and she even laughed at my terrible jokes. It was a huge boost to my self-esteem.
I carefully checked we were out of earshot before I spoke.
“Friday was awesome, Soph! You’re incredibly sexy. That was probably the best hour of my life, ever,” I gushed.
“Meh!” she replied, shrugging. “It was all right.”
I was crestfallen. I’d given it my all. Those were my very best moves. From the ecstatic noises she’d made, I had thought I’d done a reasonable job.
“I’ve had better,” she said.
There was an awkward silence.
“Lee, I’m joking! You’re so gullible! I loved every minute of it. Nobody has ever given me so much pleasure. Is it just me or are we incredibly sexually compatible?”
“We certainly are,” I said. “Please, can we do it again soon?”
“Hell, yeah! Lunchtime?”
“Today? I wish! We’d better stick to Fridays for the time being. Let’s see how it goes.”
“But that’s four whole days! Every time I look at you I get aroused. I don’t think I can wait that long,” Sophia said.
“Have you tried masturbating? Get yourself a vibrator.”
“Lee! What kind of girl do you think I am?”
“A libidinous, lecherous, randy, insatiable one?” I suggested.
“Yeah. Fair point. But don’t blame me if I single-handedly bring about a national battery shortage.”
“You know you can get rechargeable ones now?” I said.
“It’s a good thing too.”
“Friday then?”
“Friday. No masturbating for you though, Lee. I want you gagging for it when you get to my house. I’ve got big plans for you this week.”
“Intriguing! What plans?”
“You’ll have to wait and see.”
◆◆◆
I read somewhere that having lots of orgasms in middle age significantly reduces a man’s chances of getting prostate cancer in later life. So I’m really going for it. I have as many orgasms as I possibly can with Tamsin, my preferred option; then some more with Sophia, my Plan B; and I supplement these with a little self-abuse, usually with the aid of some wholesome pornography.
Some porn I find a real turn-off. If it doesn’t seem realistic, I’m just not interested. If it’s hours of repetitive pounding, I’ll fast-forward in search of variety. I’ve got no interest in the man’s enjoyment. What I want to see is a beautiful woman faking pleasure so well that I’m actually fooled into believing that she’s enjoying the experience. Lesbian porn works well too; just get rid of the man altogether. This also avoids any uncomfortable comparison issues. Do all men have penises that big? How do they stay so hard for so long?
My favourite porn movie of all time features a smoking hot couple: Tamsin and me. For a few years, early on in our relationship, as a birthday treat, Tamsin used to let me film us making love. Even after all these years, and hundreds of viewings, these videos still arouse me more than any professional pornography.
Tamsin maintains that porn doesn’t really do anything for her, and yet it often makes her sopping wet; far wetter than I’ve ever been able to make her. I can’t seem to pin her down on her favourite type of porn though. Tamsin would deny it, but lesbian action always seems to get her juices flowing. Under the influence of alcohol, she will occasionally admit to enjoying the sort of porn in which two handsome, strapping young studs simultaneously pleasure one impossibly gorgeous woman, but only with the strict disclaimer that she would never do anything like that in real life. Unfortunately, I never dare mention how aroused Tamsin becomes by viewing pornography, for fear that she might refuse to watch it ever again:
“You seem to be really enjoying this porn, Tam.”
“Not especially. It’s all right I suppose.”
“But, I’ve never known you get so moist down there.”
“Have you put the bins out? It’s recycling collection tomorrow.”
“Yes. Is it because there’s a woman being pleasured by two men at the same time?”
“I don’t want to
have a threesome, Lee.”
“I didn’t say you did. But do you like watching threesomes?”
“We’re not going to a swingers party either.”
“Absolutely not. Why can’t you just admit this is turning you on?”
“Why are men in porn always circumcised?”
“Good question, but I know you’re changing the subject. I honestly have no idea. How do you feel about circumcised men?”
She looks away. “I don’t know, I’ve never had the pleasure.”
“Would you ever have sex with a woman?”
“For the last time, Lee, we are not having a threesome!”
Sophia adores pornography. She watches it a lot; usually on her home computer or cell phone, and she makes notes whenever she comes across something novel that she’d like to try out with me. She doesn’t seem to have any preference: girl on girl, gang bangs, interracial, guy on guy, S&M; the kinkier the better for Sophia. It’s a breath of fresh air to be in a relationship with someone who has such a positive and embracing attitude towards sex.
◆◆◆
“No. I think you should talk to Charlie about the condom wrapper,” I say.
“Why me?”
“You’ve got womanly bits.” I point in the general direction of Tamsin’s nether regions.
“So?”
“Don’t you think it would be better coming from you? Besides, there’s no way I could have a conversation about sex with my daughter.”
“But you will with your son?” Tamsin asks.
“Who says I haven’t already?”
“Have you?”
“No. But I probably won’t have to. He’ll learn everything he needs to know from his mates at school, just like I did, and my father before me.”
“Oh no you don’t, Mister. If I’ve got to have ‘the talk’ with Charlie, then you’re jolly well having it with John. After all, you’ve got manly bits.”
“There’s not much to say is there?” I’m really not keen. “Just give it a thorough wash every now and then and always wear a condom.”
“Is that it?”
“Well, I’m not exactly going to be giving him foreplay tips am I?”
“Definitely not! He needs to learn that stuff from someone who has some talent in that area.”
“Thanks very much!” I fell into that one.
Tamsin laughs and pretends she’s joking, but I wonder how much truth there is in that statement.
“What about all the physical changes he’s about to go through?” she says.
“Don’t they cover it all in biology lessons?”
“I certainly hope so.”
Tamsin is thoughtful for a couple of minutes.
I flush the toilet and, with a gurgle and a swirl of water, the condom wrapper vanishes around the U-bend. This time! It’s annoying it didn’t do that the first time I flushed it.
Tamsin finally comes to a decision.
“I’m going to talk to Charlie.”
She looks at me expectantly.
“Fine by me,” I say and beat a hasty retreat down the stairs.
◆◆◆
My liaisons with Sophia were undoubtedly the highlight of my week. We usually managed to see each other every Friday lunchtime at Sophia’s house. On rare occasions we also met at weekends, while Tamsin was out purchasing new items to cram into her already over-stocked wardrobes, and Joe was away somewhere persistently pursuing a small white ball into and out of eighteen holes, in the hope that he completed the task by swinging his weapon fewer times than ever before.
Conveniently, Tamsin often went on long, far-flung shopping trips; sometimes on her own, sometimes with a friend or two. Occasionally, she even spent whole weekends away, with Nilofer or one of her work colleagues. Sophia and I always made the most of these opportunities whenever they arose.
The sex with Sophia was wonderful right from the start. I found it inspiring to be with such a passionate, enthusiastic, active lover. We were both big fans of foreplay; preferably long-lasting, teasing, varied foreplay. Tamsin’s preference was always to skip any foreplay altogether and just get on with penetrative sex as quickly as possible.
Typically, making love with Tamsin involved her going through the same six steps:
1. Yield to my persistent requests.
2. Get me hard with the absolute minimum of physical involvement.
3. Apply lube.
4. Climb on.
5. Bring me to orgasm as quickly as possible.
6. Leap out of bed, dress and get on with something more worthy of her time.
More often than not, we didn’t even kiss each other and there was rarely any snuggling afterwards.
With Sophia, however, no two sessions were ever the same. I never had a clue what to expect, but it might have gone something like this:
1. Tease me in advance with excessively naughty text messages and photos.
2. Dress in a sexy outfit or costume.
3. Snog me until my lips were red and swollen.
4. Undress herself as part of a choreographed and rehearsed striptease.
5. Undress me.
6. Employ several types of foreplay, featuring multiple erogenous zones.
7. Provide instructions, suggestions, and requests of things I could do to enhance her pleasure.
8. Introduce the latest sex toys she’d purchased.
9. Whip up extreme mutual arousal.
10. Engage in slow sex, fast sex, hot sex, sweaty sex in various positions.
11. Have multiple orgasms.
12. Recuperate and snuggle.
13. Go back to step six and repeat until satiated.
Tamsin would quite happily make love the same way every single time, but Sophia wanted to have sex in every position I’d ever heard of and several others that were entirely new to me, and didn’t even feature in the Kama Sutra. Not only that, she’d provide encouragement, make demands, and come up with novel suggestions throughout. Sophia knew exactly what she wanted and she wasn’t afraid to ask for it. Explicit communication during sex was a new experience for me, and I liked it a great deal.
◆◆◆
Over the years I’ve purchased many sex toys for Tamsin: vibrators, dildos, role-play costumes, sexy underwear, butt-plugs, massage oil, flavoured lube; even erotic literature and sex guides. She’s never expressed any gratitude for these gifts, but that’s understandable because I’m actually buying them for me. I always feel awkward when I suggest we use a sex toy to enhance our love lives. The look she gives me seems to say: “Why do you need these things, you big perv. Can’t we just have regular sex like normal people?” However, to be fair to Tamsin, she will occasionally agree to try some of the least outlandish items. Disappointingly, though, most of our sex toys have been used no more than once – highly successfully in my opinion – but then they’ve found their way into Tamsin’s bottom drawer, never to be seen again. Her go-to accessory seems to be an old electric toothbrush which I’ve never seen her clean her teeth with and yet, suspiciously, it often needs recharging.
In my imagination, Tamsin spends her days off work, as soon as the house is empty, in the hedonistic pursuit of the ultimate orgasm. I picture her laying out all her sex toys on the bed the minute my car has left the drive, and then spending the next few hours pleasuring herself with multiple gadgets, as she fantasises about servicing the whole England Rugby Union team; in high heels. And possibly stockings too. Tamsin does look particularly sexy in heels and stockings.
Sometimes I pretend to forget my lunch, just so I can pop back home and catch her in the act, but I’ve had no luck so far. Somehow, when I burst in, she always seems to be fully dressed and busy doing menial housework of some sort. What a disappointment! Maybe she genuinely does have little interest in sexual pleasure; she merely goes through the motions to please me. I’m very grateful if that’s the case, but I want more.
◆◆◆
“Well, that was awkward.”
I’m reading
my book in bed and Tamsin has just entered our bedroom, looking flushed.
“What was?” I say.
“I’ve been talking to Charlie for the last twenty minutes. It didn’t go well.”
I put down my book, accepting that I’m not going to make it to the end of the chapter for the foreseeable future.
“What did she say?”
“Hang on a minute.”
Tamsin retrieves her mismatched pyjamas from under the pillow and goes into the bathroom to get changed ready for bed.
I’m not sure what to make of this. She doesn’t seem angry with me, which is a good sign.
“Was it hers?” I call through the closed bathroom door.
There’s no response. I can hear Tamsin cleaning her teeth with her regular manual toothbrush, not the electric one that’s reserved for special occasions. She can probably hear me, but is unable to reply due to having a mouth full of froth.
I’m impatient. There’s no point even trying to read my book; I won’t be able to concentrate. I want to know what Charlie said.
Eventually, Tamsin comes out, somehow managing to look sexy in her PJs and fluffy pink socks.
“What did Charlie say?”
Tamsin climbs into bed and makes herself comfortable before she speaks.
“Well, initially all I got was a whole load of ‘Mu-um! Oh my God! Go away! I don’t want to talk about anything.’”
“That sounds like Charlie. How did you bring it up in the first place?”
“I just said, ‘Charlie, you know you can always talk to me, don’t you?’”
“And that made her defensive?” I said.
“Not at first, no. I was a bit vague, initially. I don’t think she realised what I was talking about, but she looked worried.”
“Uh huh.”
“After a while, I just came out with it and asked her if she knew anything about the condom wrapper in our loo. That’s when she started to get anxious.”