SEX DIARIES: 'For years, I pretended to enjoy oral sex. Then I let a stranger go down on me.'

It was St Patrick’s Day in Dublin and my best friend and I had flown in from London for the weekend. It was a spur of the moment trip, and we’d booked so last minute that the only accommodation left was at the airport hotel. 

Dressed in green from head to toe, we hopped on the airport shuttle bus to the city centre to watch the parade. 

Joining the crowds that lined the streets in the cold, we cheered on the floats, bands and Irish dancers. It wasn’t long before we realised the three guys standing behind us were Aussie. After overhearing them cracking jokes, we joined in the conversation and hit it off straight away. 

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Keen to get warm, the boys invited us for lunch, and we all piled into the nearest pub and ordered a hot roast with a Guinness. 

Pulling my coat off as I squeezed into the booth, the cutest guy’s eyes fell to my cleavage, popping out the top of my short green dress. Biting my bottom lip to hide my grin, I sat down beside Marc ready to flirt. 

By the time we’d finished our food, we were several pints in, and as loud and rowdy as the rest of the pub. 

Pushing past patrons, we stumbled back on to the street, Marc’s hand catching me as I fell out the door. 

Making our way down cobbled streets, we walked into the next bar and headed straight to the dancefloor as live Irish music belted out from the stage. 

Carrying another round of Guinness, Marc handed me a glass with a very sexy smile and a wink. 

As the traditional tunes roared over the audience, his arms wrapped around me, pulling me in. Lifting my chin up, his lips enveloped mine as his hands slid down my dress, over every curve of my body.

The crowd around us swelled in the dark, paying no attention to what we were doing, as Marc’s tongue explored the inside of my mouth and his fingers inched closer to those other lips. With his body pressed up against mine, his hand disappeared under my hemline and into my tights. 

Hidden from view, Marc pushed aside my lace panties, tantalising my clit. 

Turning me away from him to face the stage, he lifted the back of my dress up and slipped his palm back inside my tights. 

Moving his hand down my bum, his warm fingers traced my skin before they were suddenly deep inside me. Twisting my head back to find his lips, I moaned into his mouth as I tried to keep myself together. 

As the party wore on, so did my sexual frustration, growing worse every time Marc kissed me, or grabbed some part of my body.

Eventually, we ended up back at my hotel room where Marc tugged off his shirt – revealing a tanned, toned torso. Pulling me into his arms, his desperate hands worked my dress and knickers off in a hurry.  

Rolling on top of me, he kissed along my neck before making his way down my stomach, his stubble grazing my soft skin. Sliding his palms up my legs, his lips met the inside of my thighs and my whole body tensed up in anticipation and familiar dread.

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Call me mad, but I’d never understood the hype around cunnilingus.

It was like a big, slobbery dog’s tongue trying to spell out the alphabet.

It felt too feeble to feel good when I needed sex to be hard and fast, with simultaneous vaginal penetration and clitoral stimulation. 

The idea that a man could just wriggle down the bed and get me off with the tip of his tongue was crazy.  

So, for 12 years I pretended. 

I feigned enjoyment every time it happened with an 'ooh' and an 'ahh', all whilst grabbing his hair in an attempt to drag him back up the bed. 

Sure, it felt erotic and sexy – and I am in no way diminishing the vital importance of foreplay – but it just didn’t do anything for me. If anything, I found it ticklish, and laughing during oral sex tends to be frowned upon. 

But then I found myself in that Dublin hotel bed, with a complete stranger’s head between my legs, and oh-my-god it felt good. So good.

I gripped the bedsheets in sheer, genuine pleasure, as I threw my head back and moaned deeply to the ceiling. It was like nothing I’d ever experienced before. 

Instead of some gentle tongue lapping at my delicate bits, Marc sucked on my clit – pulling it, teasing it, wanting it – until I thought I would explode. 

As the feeling spread to every nerve fibre of my body, I wove my fingers through his hair for real. 

Holding his head down there, I called out for more until I came loud and hard like never before. 

Feature Image: Getty.