Learning Curves

1508

The night arrived. I was nervous, but reinforced by a considerable surplus of irrepressible, youthful adrenalin. I had absolutely no idea what to say or do. I just trusted my intuition. It’s called a learning curve. Sometimes steep. Mont Ventoux. Sometimes you have to stop riding, get off your bike and push it to the summit in order to learn your lesson. But this was biology, physics and chemistry all rolled into one and I was useless at science.

Heart-in-mouth occasions don’t happen that often in life. But ringing that doorbell for a flat that transpired to be above an off-licence in a non-descript street in London, SW3, was definitely one of those moments. Did anyone live there? Would they have any idea who I was? Who were they? Would they like me? What was I doing…….?

After a very long and angst-ridden wait the hall light was switched on and there were footsteps coming down the stairs. A non-descript man in this non-descript street answered the door and appeared to be expecting me. In fact his wife was ‘waiting for me’. My heart was pounding so loudly I’m sure he heard it, but he showed no signs of being a first-aider. It quickly appeared that he was merely a facilitator. A conduit. A go-between. A co-conspirator. I was to be handed over to his wife. His wife?…..Why was this so exciting and yet also bewildering. It occurred to me that I had no idea what I was expecting. I hadn’t even considered how things might play out. What role was the non-descript man going to play. A collaborator? A partner in crime? A spectator? A voyeur? A cuckold? A middle-man?

As it happened fate played its hand in several ways. His role quickly became superfluous when I met his wife. I have nothing against larger plus-size people. I am not sizeist in any way. I merely have preferences. His wife was large, in fact very large. Curves on the curves. Rubenesque. My first dilemma was that she looked nothing like the women I’d been dating in Mayfair magazine. My second was that if this was a speed dating session I’d have bolted. But this wasn’t and from the moment she set eyes on me she seemed delighted to meet me. In fact she acted like a cat that had very definitely got the cream. Her ill-concealed excitement and adoring fascination in my youthfulness was rather taking. I was the one to be taken. No time for small talk, no time for modesty, I was ravaged.

I was also excited, not because I was attracted (far from it), but because I was suddenly thrust into an extreme ferment of sexual passion and uncontainable lust. Not mine, hers. Although mine certainly went along for the ride. What a ride.

However much the part of my brain that deals with attraction was repelled, another part of my anatomy was intrigued and buoyant. Not that it had much time to decide. Not to put too fine point on it I was eaten alive. The fact that this woman clearly liked me, wanted me and was not settling for anything other than complete compliance overrode any reservations that I might have felt that were connected to the whimsical notions of attraction, endearment or chemistry.

I didn’t actually have time to think. It was clear from the start that this lady had only one thing in mind. She wanted sex with a virile young man who could satisfy her voracious appetite and she wasn’t going to stop until she was completely satisfied. My complete ignorance about technique was rendered irrelevant by her demands and urgings. She took control to the point where I was merely obeying instructions and servicing her unquenchable desire. While my memory is hazy about the exact events I’m sure I came quickly. However, I was young, very fit and reloaded like an automatic weapon. She just changed the sheath and we started again….and again…..and again. She begged. I pounded. Mercilessly. She dug her nails into my back in exultation as she powered to another orgasm. I kept pounding. She kept demanding more with her eyes widening as the pleasure built to a runaway crescendo…….

I remember the joyful finale as she squeezed what was left of my hot seed at the very moment she screamed in supplication; a dramatic coupling and the most intense wave of pleasure filled our loins simultaneously. I remember her complementing me afterwards. I felt good about myself in a way I hadn’t experienced before. Like a weight of innocence being lifted from my adolescent shoulders. I remember the plain man taking me downstairs and shaking my hand vigorously to thank me. What he heard from the adjoining room must have reassured him that his wife had got her fill. I suspect he knew what she needed and he seemed very pleased with the outcome. My chest swelled with pride. Nothing else was capable of swelling, I was completely spent.

About two weeks later I had a letter from the wife asking me to return. Three weeks later another. Four weeks later she begged me. I was tempted. She was so horny. I was young, stimulated and suddenly felt more like a man. I’d cracked it. But, while the experience was gratifying and salaciously arousing and had provided me with a fundamental grounding in basic, horny, animalistic sex, I was left with a feeling that something was missing. I also felt slightly ashamed……….

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