My Love Life

My name is Elise. I am 25. I have had 2 sex partners but I soon hope to have a third man's cock fucking me.

ERIC

Eric took my virginity when I was nearly 19. Before I met Eric, I had wanted to be a virgin bride. He had a deserved reputation for being a playboy. He liked to party. He was sexually promiscuous. Guys wanted to be as successful with women as Eric was. Men and women flocked round him like he was Elvis. The guys wanted to be him and girls wanted to be in bed with him.

I was pleased when Eric chatted me up. He made me feel special. It felt right that I should allow him to pop my cherry. I took him back to my bedsit. He and I chatted over coffee. I didn't know what to say about having sex. But the Elvis line kept repeating itself in my mind "It's now or never".

I blurted out "I am a virgin but I have a towel. And I'm taking the pill."

Eric said "Only if you are sure. We can do it another time. I don't want you to wake up tomorrow with regrets."

I replied "No I am sure."

I got the towel and placed it on top of the duvet. We stripped naked and quickly got onto my bed. We kissed.

Eric said "Last chance. Are you positive you want me to deflower you?"

I said "Yes. I'm absolutely positive."

Eric then mounted me. With one sustained thrust he broke the membrane which protected my vagina. It was slightly painful but wonderful.

He stopped and asked "Are you okay?"

I said "Yes."

He continued thrusting and had his orgasm. I hadn't had one but it was worth the wait.

REJECTED

Eric and I got to become an item. I wrongly thought that he had finished sowing his wild oats. He often stayed in my bedsit and I often stayed overnight in his flat.

I had been thinking of us getting married. But I was in a fool's paradise. He dumped me despite us having great sex. He left me to shack up with another woman who had little sexual experience.

I felt Eric had used me just for his jollies.

GEORGE

It took another month before I met George. He was a coal miner and a heavy drinker. This wasn't unusual in Newcastle. I learned my lesson from Eric.

This time I didn't give my body to George until we had been dating for 3 months. I did the traditional taking the boyfriend to meet the parents.

George and I discussed marriage arrangements. He got on well with my parents and they liked him.

Two months after he met my parents I moved into his house. George was wonderful in bed.

We had sex 3 or 4 times every week. We experimented with sexual positions. However his drinking got worse, as did his lovemaking.

It was clear that George had become an alcoholic. The nights out with the lads was now supplemented by bottles of vodka at home. He even drank vodka at breakfast on the days when he wasn't working.

It was traumatic having to say to him "I love you. I want to become your wife. But you need to clean up your act or I will leave you."

To be fair George did truly try to clean up his act. But the road to Hell is paved with good intentions. And it isn't easy for anyone to stop being addicted.

STRUGGLING

I struggled to support George. I had doubts about whether to end our relationship. I had male admirers. Many a night I lay in bed having fantasies about being another man's bed.

My indecision hindered my efforts to support my alcoholic partner. He was unpredictable. He swung from being full of life to being remorseful.

When George moderated his drinking

I became optimistic that he would recover from his addiction. But then I had long periods of emotional exhaustion when setbacks occurred.

I became disheartened when George relapsed. I struggled to maintain my own emotional resilience.

HIDING THE BOTTLES

George began to drink in secret. He hid the bottles. It became a game of "hunt the bottle". We had (what the experts call) "an unpredictable and unstable home environment".

His drinking affected his desire for, and ability to provide me with, decent sex.

I was lucky to have sex from him even once a week. It was only ever in the missionary position. They say that "even bad sex is good". But it isn't. They are wrong.

MY PARENTS

Luckily I had the support of my parents. Without them I would have felt overwhelmed. They offered empathy and gave me practical support.

Mum and Dad empowered me to find a balance and maintain hope, even in the face of the challenges of living with an alcoholic.

I thought that I had caused George's descent into alcoholism or at least contributed to it. This self-blame compounded my feelings of sadness, hopelessness and of being a failure.

My parents kept telling me that I hadn't failed my partner. They told me that people who are addicted and very difficult to live with.

When I was with my parents I didn't minimise or deny the severity of my partner's alcoholism or its impact on my life.

But after 6 month of "challenges" push came to shove.

My husband got into his car to go to the out of town supermarket. He had drunk a skinful of beer with his mates the previous night. In his hands a car was a deadly weapon which could kill someone.

I picked up the phone and dialled 999. I shopped my lover to the cops. In our society it is considered wrong to be "a stool pigeon".

I gave the cops the route he would take.

The police acted and found he was 3 times over the legal limit. They charged him with drink-driving. This could mean he would get to 6 months in prison. He would have a criminal record.

THE FINAL STRAW

George phoned me from the police cells. He cried. I decided that this was the straw that broke the camel's back.

I phoned my parents and told them what I had done. They agreed to put me up. An hour later they collected me and my belongings.

Leaving George was the hardest, but best, decision I have ever made.

NOW

I now have hopes for the future.

I met Fred who is a widower. He is 14 years older than me. We met at the gym and its sauna. In the sauna he wears the skimpiest of swimming trunks which allow anyone to see the outline of his manhood.

We arrange to go to the gym and sauna at the same time. We have coffee afterwards.

Lots of people who know him and me encourage us to go steady. So too are my parents who tell me that I am happier since we met.

He tells lots of puns, some of which are funny, but all of which are clever.

At the drop of a hat, Fred's liable to recount some story about his deceased wife. Like how they were in Nicosia, the world's last divided capital and saw the "Green Line", a demilitarised zone created by the United Nations, from a pub. He is writing "The History Of The 2004 Cypriot Annan Plan Referendums" and hopes to have it published in the "Peace Now" magazine.

FRED HELPS ME

Fred knows that I love poetry. He encourages me to write and to explain what poems mean to me. I have even started writing my own poems.

Fred knows about my previous partners and I know about his.

After 6 months of dating I feel it is right to give my body to Fred.

In my heart I know it will be a case of 3rd time lucky for me.