This is part of a series. This chapter doesn't stand on its own. Please start reading from Chapter One.
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I'd first met Jackie at college. I'd come from a very strict, repressed home life. I'm an only child of repressed parents. I wouldn't be surprised if my conception was their only sexual experience. Anything even vaguely sex-related was never mentioned in our house. I was not given any guidance on boys, or make-up or dress or anything. I had to rely on rumour and gossip from the other girls at school. Thank God for the internet. I learnt a lot from that when I finally plucked up the courage to research the subject. The internet doesn't help much with the emotional side of things, though, so I arrived at Uni at eighteen, not only a virgin, but an emotionally repressed one. Jackie changed that. She changed many things, starting with the way I thought about sex. She was completely uninhibited about her enjoyment of sex; she fucked men purely for the pleasure it brought her. This was so radical to me it took me a few months to assimilate the idea. I'd been brought up to believe that sex had to be within a marriage. I'd come to the conclusion myself that marriage wasn't a necessity to begin a sexual relationship, but it must surely be the eventual aim. I found Jackie's attitude at first shocking, then intriguing. I never felt that she was wrong or evil. Somehow her ideas fitted me; but I hadn't the knowledge or nerve to explore my sexuality. Jackie became my mentor and teacher, we became one of those inseparable couples you find at colleges. Not that we didn't mix with others. Through Jackie's mentoring I became much more comfortable with other people. I discovered that I wasn't the only one who wasn't very sexually experienced; virginity amongst 18-20 year-olds is more common than you might think. But Jackie was the main person in my life.
Looking back with the benefit of hindsight I can see that she was patronising and manipulative, but I was a very willing pupil once I'd got over the first shock of realising I had a sexuality. I still admire her attitude. She is genuinely uninhibited; exploring the world of sex without guilt or guile, so I allowed her to control my social life. She started with my appearance, giving me a makeover and introducing me to more flattering, sexier clothes. She persuaded me to go on the Pill, even though I was still a virgin. ("You never know!" she said.). I had my first drink, then my first drunk, then my first hangover. I began to be asked out; I experienced snogging then petting. I enjoyed them both. My first orgasm was manually induced by a Chemistry student. I refused to go further so he dumped me. I didn't mind, because it had been part of Jackie's plan for me. I wasn't to become emotionally involved with anyone. She manoeuvred me into close contact with a nice young man. I didn't fancy him at all, but she told me he was the perfect one to take my cherry; he was experienced, but would not be expecting anything more than a one-nighter. She was right. He bought me drinks, took me back to his bedsit, undressed me, fucked me gently then called me a taxi home, all in a nice but unintense way. It was a good introduction to sex. I was entirely comfortable with it all. Though I'd "lost my virginity" I didn't feel any sense of loss. I felt I'd gained something: a libido. Jackie's next potential partner for me horrifed me, though. He was a notorious womaniser, who'd left a trail of broken hearts in just one college year. I hated men like that on principle and didn't want to pander to him.
"But that's why he's perfect for you, hon!" she said, "He'll fuck you really well then forget you. You'll have at least one proper orgasm with him; believe me I know how good he is! But there won't be any complication. Trust me!" I did. As she said, he was very good. In his bed I discovered how good an orgasm can be. I gripped him so hard with my thighs as he fucked me that he asked me to loosen up a little. When I'd come down a bit from the hormonal high and he'd come he began to lift himself off me. I held him back telling him to wait as I wasn't finished yet. He just said "Wow!" and began moving again. I had another orgasm after what seemed like ages, every minute being near-ecstasy. This time he did roll off me, but an hour later I managed to coax another erection in him, which I impaled myself on to give us our third climax each.
I now knew what Jackie meant. Sex is great. I love every part of it. I love the choosing of a mate. I love the moment when I look in his eyes as he realises he's going to fuck me. I love taking off my clothes for him. I love feeling his erect cock with my hand. I love the moment of penetration as my cunt lips part and my vagina expands. I love the first thrust. Most of all I love orgasms; that surge of building emotion; that explosion of ecstasy that takes over my consciousness for a few magic seconds. I'm not so keen on the bits afterwards, the awkward goodbyes, the false smiles. I just want to get away.
That's why I began to have sex straight away, maybe after just one drink. I'd lead the guy outside and have him against a wall or a tree. Very few guys refused me. On the other hand orgasms were less frequent. But I found I liked the experience anyway. I suppose it's the control aspect of it that attracts me. When you've got a man up to his balls inside you, you own him for those few moments. An occasional orgasm, maybe one time in ten, was a treat worth working for. The other times were fun enough. Jackie couldn't believe the monster she'd created. She always waited until a second date to fuck her guys, and insisted on a bed. Once she'd tried my method she was a convert, though. It was less complicated and interfered less with our studies. So for two years or so we fucked a different guy every Friday and Saturday night, except for periods and illnesses, and parental visits. I say a different guy but it's quite possible I fucked some of them more than once; I wouldn't have known. I never remembered their names or took much notice of their faces.
We both left college with good degrees and found good jobs, but our recreational activities continued for another year or so. Then I had a kind of moral relapse, deciding that I was not living a good life. The idea that I might be a slut was always in the back of my mind. Jackie certainly wasn't a slut in that she was exploring sex for all the right reasons; to be fully aware of herself. She'd had a couple of longer, steady relationships, and intended to do so again in the future. I'd never had a boyfriend; I was worried that my sexual activity was just a reaction to my upbringing. Perhaps I'd be happier in a relationship. I'd met a nice guy, Graham, a furniture restorer; a very good honest, sincere and gentle man. Sex with him was good, if not always great, but he loved me and I convinced myself I loved him. We moved in together. When I told Jackie she said, "Oh God, you'll be having kids and a mortgage next!" At the thought of kids, I froze. I was nowhere near ready to have children. I was on the Pill, but I quickly had a contraceptive implant fitted, so there could be no accidents. I became one of those lucky women whose periods stopped. I still felt a little strange around my time, but I was able, even eager, still to have sex. I was happy for almost a year, but I became bored. I'd kept in touch with Jackie, but I had stopped my sexual predating. We met for coffee or a chat during which she told me of her exploits whether I wanted to hear of them or not. She kept asking me to come for a night out with her but I always refused. Until one night; this night, in fact, when I agreed. I suppose it was always in the back of my mind that I would have sex, but I told myself I was just going out for a few drinks. It only took a couple before I was eyeing up the guys in the bar. I selected Dave (if that's his name) because he had nice eyes.
The taxi dropped me near the flat I shared with Graham. I crept in knowing he'd be asleep. Our bathroom was quite a long way from the bedroom so I was able to shower without waking him before slipping in beside him. He stirred but didn't wake. The next morning I pretended to be asleep when he got up to go to work. I sat up when I heard the front door close. It was a Saturday, so I didn't have go to work, though it was always Graham's busiest day. I felt horribly guilty and ashamed of myself for cheating on him. But I also felt triumphant that I could still attract a man so easily. I became aroused when I recalled the encounter on the beach. I had a bath so I could masturbate while I relived it. That evening, Graham seemed unconcerned, asking me if I'd enjoyed my evening out. I said I had and that I might do it again because I'd missed Jackie's company. He said it was a good idea and that I should enjoy myself. In bed that night I sucked him hard before straddling him and riding him for as long as I could. He was able to last long enough for me to come. I did the same on Sunday morning. That was two more good orgasms. I felt better.
I met up with Jackie every other Friday night; I had a different guy every time. All of them holiday makers; all of them fucked at the same spot on the beach. I didn't come every time, though, most were two-minute wonders. I generally fucked Graham vigorously the next day. He said once, "I should send Jackie a thank-you card." I looked inquiringly at him.
"We always have fabulous sex when you've been out with her." That increased my guilt feelings but didn't make me stop.
The night that changed my life came at the end of August on the next night out with Jackie. I'd seen this guy at the bar as soon as I'd walked in with Jackie. He was tall, broad, clean-looking and very cool; just quietly watching the TV over the bar as he slowly drank. He shot a glance at me as I entered, smiling a little. That was a good sign to me. Jackie brought me up to speed with all her news, mostly work-related. I did the same over a couple of drinks. I looked around; he was still there.
"That one's mine tonight," I said, indicating with my head.
"Go ahead, hon, I don't see anybody for me yet. But it's early."
I walked up to the bar, stood very close to the guy, as if I was waiting to be served. When the barman approached the guy said, as I knew he would, "Can I buy that for you?"
I looked at him as though I'd only just noticed him. He had brown hair, neatly styled and combed. His eyes were green. He talked with a lovely soft northern accent. Yorkshire I guessed.
"OK, thanks. I'll have a vodka and tonic, please."
"And your friend?"
