Hi, I'm Amy. This is a true story about a night out in my hometown a few years back when I was 23.
I'm not skinny, not fat, but am slightly the wrong side of my ideal weight, with curves in the right places.
With the above description you might imagine me to be a buxom beauty with sizeable tits. Sadly for me this isn't the case, and I hated the fact that my breasts were only a 34B cup.
I've got long, dark hair, pale skin and am on the short side. I'm 100% happy with how I look and don't go out of my way to lose weight or diet. I've always been told I'm pretty and that does me fine.
For 23, I was what you might call 'above average' in terms of sexual experience. I'd done most of the things you might expect of a girl who'd gone away to University for 3 years in a party town, lived in student halls and spent a lot of time drinking and socialising.
I'll be up-front about it - I have a problem with drink. Not in an alcoholic way where I depend on drink, but in the way that I don't know my limits, despite years of scrapes and unfortunate events. I can admit this now, with the benefit of maturity. Until quite recently I would get drunk every time I went out. Not paraletic drunk, not being-sick drunk, but the sort of drunk where I get very tipsy and lose all inhibitions and sense of what is right or wrong.
I've also begun to question if I have a problem with fidelity. I don't think of myself as a nasty or sneaky person, and I go out of my way to be nice to people. But in some quieter moments I've contemplated my past behaviour and my track record doesn't make very good reading. Luckily there isn't a single person alive other than myself who knows ALL the gory details.
From these last two admissions you can probably guess that clubs aren't necessarily a good place for me to be going too often. But I've got several separate groups of friends who don't really socialise together, so I'm pulled in all directions and as a result I end up out on the town more often than a girl like me should.
There's my work friends in my hometown, plus my oldest 'friends-for-life' friends from school. I also have my friends from uni, who all get together every couple of months and take it in turns to travel and visit one of the group in their town. I then have my boyfriend's (at the time) friends and their girls.
This particular story occurred during a night out with my work colleagues.
I work as a receptionist at a technology magazine, only about half an hour from home. Most of the people who work there live either in my town, or in the town where the office is based (notice I'm giving no locations away)! At the time I had been living with my boyfriend Chris for about 3 months. We met through a friend-of-a-friend. He rented a flat in my hometown and we were crazy about each other. I moved in officially after only 1 month together as I was spending all my time there anyway - and anything was an improvement on living with my parents since I finished uni.
Sex with Chris was about average, I'd probably say 5 or 6/10. He was obsessed with me. At first I found this exciting as he literally couldn't get enough of me and always wanted sex - any time any place. This was great for the first couple of months together but soon got a little draining. I get bored quite easily and the initial spine-tingling excitement definitely wore off for me after a couple of months of the same old thing over and over. There was no let-up from Chris though and he would still pester me even when I'd had a long day and just wanted to relax, and make me feel guilty if I didn't get him off one way or another.
This had led me - only about 2 weeks before the night of this story - to cheat. I'm not proud of it, but I was finally excited about sex again. Perversely, it even made sex with Chris more fun - it didn't bother me that he wasn't concerned with giving me a good time, I was having a good enough time of my own!
The guy in question was Dale. Dale was a marketing manager at the magazine. He was older than me - about 30 - single, and an absolute hunk. We'd had our eyes on each other for a while at work, and had bonded over marketing-talk in the cafe. I had a degree was in marketing but marketing roles were hard to come by, which is why I was slumming it on reception for the time being.
Dale was very charming and a coffee led to lunches.
Lunches lead to a drink with his team after work.
Team drinks then led to a drink with just us two, and the obvious lies that I had begun to tell Chris to cover.
By the time of the second drink between us, there was thick sexual tension in the air and the whole evening had an inevitability about it right from the time we greeted each other. Things escalated slowly through the few hours we were in the bar, with us gradually touching hands, and then legs under the table, leaning ever closer face-to-face and setting off a tingling between my legs.
As you can guess, he invited me back for coffee as he only lived round the corner from the bar (I knew this when we agreed to meet there - and he knew that I knew).
I agreed, and we made the 2 minute walk hand-in-hand, looking casual but really my heart was pounding out of my chest with excitement, and my knickers were wet with anticipation of what was certainly going to happen. I'd mentally prepared to cheat on Chris that night, and had worn my sexiest underwear just in case. I was desparate for Dale, and was almost trembling as we walked.
Once back at his flat, coffee was not on the agenda and he pinned me against the wall with a long, deep kiss before the door had even closed. We attacked each other's clothing, leaving a desparate trail littering the hallway as we staggered to his bedroom like a bad movie cliche.
With me in just my knickers and Dale in his boxers, he pushed me back onto the bed, where I drunkenly flopped, arms above my head and my tiny tits probably barely noticable.
I was surprised when, instead of lying next to me, or climbing on top to continue our foreplay, he immediately hooked his thumbs into the waitband of my specially-chosen black lacy hipster knickers and aggressively slid them down my legs. I was shocked and my involuntary reaction was to grab them and stop him, even though I didn't really want him to stop. Plus they were already past my knees by the time I got hold of them, leaving my neatly-trimmed bush fully exposed.
Instead of stopping, or even flinching at my attempt, he simply grabbed my naked thighs and firmly parted them. With my knickers still round my ankles, Dale dove into my soaking snatch, driving his tongue in as far as it would physically go as I writhed in ecstasy. He licked and sucked my clit and I came within a minute under his talented tongue, panting for breath spreadeagled on his bed. He moved up and continued the deep kiss I enjoyed so much earlier, smothering my face in my own juices. I finally kicked-off the knickers, giving him unlimited access to my body as I desparately pushed the waistband of his boxers down to stroke his rigid cock.
I only managed to get in a few lengths with my hand before Dale pressed the head against my pussy and slipped in easily though the juice and saliva. He ravished me missionary-style (which I like, by the way) for about 5 minutes before he looked like he was about to cum. I egged him on.
"Come on, come on, fuck me, don't stop." I panted.
"Not wearing anything."
Teasing, I giggled "Yeah I noticed - I'm on the pill - cum inside me."
I pride myself in my dirty talk skills and can always drive a guy over the edge. Dale exploded into me with jet after jet of warm cum as I passively laid there and took it all.
In the week after this, me and Dale were quite awkward around each other. He knew I lived with my boyfriend and I wondered if he'd lost interest having bedded me. I didn't want to look like a desparate slut by chasing him, so we exchanged pleasentries but no more. That is, until excatly a week later when we went out with all the work guys on Friday night. After a few too many drinks we got chatting, away from the crowd. He opened up and he admitted he liked me and wanted to see me again but was concerned about my boyfriend.
"He has a name you know - Chris."
"Yeah but if I use his name it'll make what we're doing seem wronger."
