I was with Sharon for just over twelve years (a relationship that eventually descended into a sordid tale of lust, deceit, betrayal, anger and heartbreak). And maybe if we'd both been a little more honest with each other from the beginning, perhaps had each compromised more then we'd still be together. Maybe.
I loved her deeply, perhaps more than any of my ex's, and she is the one who returns to me in my dreams the most - I guess she'll always be in my heart, even though I love another now.
Sharon was intelligent, capable, driven and talented artistically. She could be very witty at times too and great company. But the real reason I was initially strongly attracted to her was because there was a smouldering and brazen sexuality about her. She would flash her pale flesh at every opportunity she could: sleeveless tops, short skirts and bare legs for casual occasions; revealing and skimpy (normally black) dresses for evenings out; thongs and lacy see-through bras underneath reserved for me.
As I write this, I realise there was so much more I should have explored sexually with her: her exhibitionism and her desire to be restrained mainly. I sometimes wonder if, in retrospect, I could have encouraged her into becoming an anonymous and amateur mature porn star (even in her mid-forties she still possessed a superb figure) once internet porn really took off.
Obviously, it's too late now but there were still exciting things we got up to and this morning I woke, with an erection, remembering the time she wanked me off, which I would now like to share with you:
It was back in the summer of 1991, we were both in our early thirties, a Saturday evening, and I was round at Sharon's council house and in her bedroom lying on her bed with her.
We had just watched (me for the first time)
The Marathon Man
which starred Dustin Hoffman and I had turned to her and said: "That was
really
good."
"Yes, it's one of my favourite films. Glad you enjoyed," she replied.
She had then sat up, knelt forward on the bed, before stretching out to switch the television off which was on a chest of drawers at the foot of the bed. She then returned to lie on the covers whilst I just lay there. The time was just after eleven.
I then rolled over and gave her a kiss as a prelude to fucking her.
"I'm afraid we can't do anything tonight -- I'm on," she said.
"Oh, okay," I said, more than a little disappointed. "But it's still good to be with you."
She paused then said calmly: "Take all your clothes off."
