sex

SEALED SECTION: The time I blew 3 guys in 3 days.

I was a virgin when I met my husband at 18. So when I divorced him at 35, I had to make up for some lost time. I decided to date as much as I wanted to. ‘Try’ lots of different types of men, because I needed to ‘find out what I really like’.

Oh, and also, I’m just a dirty bitch.

I’ve always been like that. I’ve always had a ridiculous sex drive, and I’d been deprived. Three months into my own personal root revival, I had in fact, much to my surprise, learned a lot about myself.

I learned that I could have sex with someone I wasn’t in love with – and, occasionally, whose presence I barely tolerated. (Those dudes were actually the best fucks, because no one was restrained by inhibitions – there was no judgement because there was no friendship. You could be demanding and selfish and usually, he liked it like that.)

Another thing I learned is that I could fuck someone and not think about them again. I could forget their name a week later. I could ignore a text from them and not feel rude or guilty.

I could have a guy in my bed, in my ass, at midnight, and not know his last name. I could have his cock in my mouth for an hour, and swallow, and love it, and not want to ever hear from him again.

It was so weird. And awesome. Yeah, it was all risky as hell, and not at all like the good girl who got her education and then married young and did everything a good girl should do. That was kind of the point.

And that’s how I came to blow three guys on three consecutive nights.

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Night 1 - He was here for a good time, not a long time.

Bruno, my first Italian soccer stud. Stout in stature, which I never realised translated to strong. Think "movie sex": being thrown on to the bed, held up against a (shower) wall. Stam-in-a. His dick was thick and wide, and it showed me that girth matters much more than length.

Bruno and I met through a mutual friend at some random pub run-in, and we'd been hooking up casually for a month. He was sweet and kind, and dumb as fuck, which was fine, because he wasn't there to dissect the Middle East with me.

Trouble is, I'd met someone earlier that week who could easily have been my next husband. He was a new neighbour on the street, and the attraction was instant. I'd run into him a few times, and it felt electric. Talking to him felt like sunshine on my face.

As opposed to other stuff on my face, which Bruno had been giving me.

So when Bruno and his thick dick came over on this particular Friday night, something horrible happened to my body; it disengaged. I didn't want to fuck him. I was thinking about this other guy, and it was annoying and amazing at the same time.

I impassively watched Bruno as his head bobbed between my legs and felt nothing. This had to end. So I did what any girl would do to distract a guy from the fact she was bored - I asked him to leave. JOKING. I concentrated on giving him an A++ head job.

Oiled-up, upside down, balls-deep - he got it all, and about ten minutes later, I got it all in my mouth. And him out the door - finally. (For the record, I'm a swallower. Spitting is revolting. And yes that's a purposely ironic statement.)

After he left, I texted my neighbour to see if he wanted a drink the next night. Don't ever accuse me of lacking initiative.

LISTEN: The ultimate sex tip from pornstar, Madison Missina, on Prude and the Pornstar. Post continues below.

Night 2 - That's when good neighbours become good friends.

James and his sunshine smile came over to beam down on me the next night. I could really date this guy, I thought, as we chatted and laughed and I mentally married him and mentally had his babies.

I am not going to sleep with him, I promised myself. I'd even spent considerable time with my Rabbit that afternoon to take the edge off.

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Fast forward two bottles of wine and six hours later, James confessed he'd prepared for our date in a similar way. And my resolve dissolved.

The first kiss had turned into naked kissing in about 30 seconds. I was five minutes into leisurely giving head - you know the kind where you just take your time, and rub your hair over his balls and listen to him whisper "fuck yes, that's the way", and you just know you're going to be bent over and drilled hard as a reward for your efforts.

But that didn't happen - I was obviously too amazing, and James politely, like a gentleman, soon asked me if he could empty his balls in my mouth. I grunted permission. He tasted surprisingly sweet. I made a mental note to ask him if he ate a lot of pineapple. But, alas, I'd never get the chance to.

As we all know, people are the most honest after they've had an orgasm. Which is why James seized the moment to happily confess, "My wife hasn't done that to me for years."

Ohhh... fuck. And also, fuck off.

Even I had my standards.

Night 3 - The pity head

The next day, Sunday, was a long day. My old uni boyfriend, David, who was still one of my best mates - his mother had died, and it was the day of her funeral. Which of course meant that much later that night at his childhood home, alcohol was once again involved in the making of a blow job.

At 9pm, I went to use the bathroom before I left, and David followed me up the stairs.

Him: Life's so short.

Me: Yep.

Him: So I have to say -

Me: Don't fucking say you love me. Don't be ridiculous.

Him: No, I was going to say that I haven't had a root since Georgina left, and that was months ago. Any chance of a pity fuck? It would make me feel a lot better right now.

Me: I dunno. Do you still cum in sixty seconds like you used to? D'you want head - it'd be a lot less effort?

Him: Cool. You can keep your pants on - the tiles are cold.

In front of his mum's decorative soaps and everything.

And that's precisely how, in just three days, I gave three wonderful blow jobs.

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