When I was 20 years old, I was just... well, an average 20-year-old girl. I was neither particularly pretty nor particularly ugly, not very tall and quite skinny. I hadn't had many boyfriends up to then and very little sexual experience for my age, and I hadn't even enjoyed what I'd tried. I considered it just an exercise, something you had to do because you're in a partnership, nothing to be ashamed of, but nothing to enjoy either. Also, I didn't have the desire to touch myself, because it didn't give me anything and it didn't turn me on. I was waiting for my Mr Right, who I wanted to be my lifelong love and sex partner, the one who would spark my heart and my body. I had the very naΓ―ve belief that, once I'd found the right man, something would click and my sex life would be wonderful. But the truth was, I wasn't keen on experimenting. I didn't know what to do with a man's body, how to excite it, arouse it. Besides, I didn't feel attractive in the least, so I was wondering why someone would go to bed with me if it wasn't for love.
I had just moved to a bigger town and started university, where I spent my first two years having lots of fun. I spent almost every evening out with friends and didn't bother much about studying. I had a brief fling with a boy called Robert at the end of my first year, but, like other times before, he didn't share my feelings. Nevertheless, we ended up in bed quite often and also talked about what we liked and didn't like in bed. For the first time, I started to look at sex in a slightly different way, as something that could be enjoyed regardless of one's feelings. But on the other hand, I DID have feelings for Robert... it was just that he didn't return them.
After his first year he quit and I've never seen him again since.
Then, at the end of the second year I met Fred, a good-looking, black-haired, dark-skinned, mysterious guy who didn't talk much. He was in a relationship with one of my friends at the time, but they didn't get along very well and fought and argued all the time. So he spent a lot of time with his friends instead of staying with her and I found out he was not mysterious at all, but friendly, quirky and easy-going. We spent a few weeks as friends together, and eventually we became a couple. He cared about studying as little as I did, and we spent all our time wandering around, drinking or playing cards, living without a care in the world.
Fred had a few friends who sometimes came over for a round of poker. They were very kind to me I got many appreciative remarks. Since I was not used to this, I was sincerely flattered and also Fred seemed very proud to have such a nice girlfriend.
When we first ended up in bed together, it was a bit like I'd imagined it would be. Sex was gentle, sweet, full of passion feelings, and I was happy and convinced there could be nothing more and nothing better.
There were only two minor drawbacks. One was the fact that I couldn't get an orgasm, however hard we tried. I was afraid there was something wrong with me, but I did not mind too much at the beginning, and decided to be happy with what I could get.
The other one... well, to tell the truth, I didn't it consider it a drawback back then. When we first had sex, I couldn't help noticing how tiny Fred's penis was. He did not seem to consider it small, and that was fine with me. But all in all, I didn't give the matter much thought because there were other things that mattered more to me.
After a year and a half or so, I was totally broke. I hated my university course because I didn't learn anything new or interesting. I had enrolled in the university of languages because I wanted to work with languages, but the students there weren't really taught to use them. So I quit and started looking around and after a while found a job as a waitress in a restaurant. I now had to work from 6 p.m. to 2 or 3 a.m., and I saw Fred only on Friday and Saturday nights after work, because his mother wasn't home on weekends. I still enjoyed staying with him, but after a few months things changed. He wasn't studying, he wasn't working, he didn't seem to be interested in anything but playing video games. He also reconnected with some old friends from high school he had broken ties with and often hung out with them. I didn't like this because I remembered him telling me they had all been doing drugs.
We were going in completely different directions, and, what was really bad for me at that time, was the fact that the sex got worse. It became what it always had been before, a mere exercise. But besides that, he just stopped trying to satisfy me. He would not finger or lick me or try out new positions, while I continued sucking him and trying to please him in every way I could, even though it became less and less stimulating and interesting for me. It was awful. I felt undesired, unattractive and frustrated. But I had also become so used to being in a relationship, I was afraid of being alone, so I kept on hoping the situation would change some day.
On the other hand, John, the owner of the restaurant I was working in, started showing interest in me. He was a family man around forty with steel blue eyes and the nicest bottom I'd seen up to then. We flirted a lot and we often talked about our preferences and my experience with Fred. John made no bones about his dislike for my boyfriend. He said: "If I were in his place, I would have sex with you all the time. How can he prefer hanging around with these people?" Physically, I was really attracted to him, but I couldn't imagine cheating on Fred, and I think that at that time, John felt the same about his wife.
Then, a few months later, I had to move into another flat. I loved it at once, but I had some problems with the key to the main entrance door downstairs, it wouldn't turn properly. On a free night during my holidays I had spent out with my friends, I came back home fairly drunk and promptly broke the key inside the lock. One of my flatmates, who was also called John, gave me a spare one, which wasn't working much better.
When I returned to work, the sexual tension between me and John grew stronger and stronger, it was almost unbearable. We joked about it at work, but I became more and more nervous. For the first time I was really imagining myself having sex with another man despite being in a relationship. John always drove me home after work, and I had asked him to wait for the electric gate to close before driving away, because it made me feel safer. One night in September, he drove me home as usual. The gate closed, I walked up to the door and tried to open it, but the key just turned inside the lock without doing anything. I tried and tried and after a while I noticed that John's car was still there in front of the gate and he was looking at me quizzically. Since it was late in the night, I didn't want to shout to explain, so I pressed the gate opener, beckoned him over and whispered: "I can't open the door, I'm having difficulties with the key." "Should I try?" he asked and I handed him the key. Having his body so close to me made me shiver. I waited for him to succeed in opening the door so I could run away and escape the situation, but something inside me couldn't help enjoying this forbidden closeness. I looked at him busying himself with the key, but neither he could open the door. He handed me the key and moved behind me, while I tried again to turn it inside the lock... and then I felt his body pressing against mine from behind and his hands on my behind, my sides, my breasts. And automatically, I pressed my body against his. I had been hoping for months for someone to show me that I could be physically attractive, that someone would desire my body again and that and even though I thought I should feel guilty, I didn't in the least. I heard John whispering: "At last!", which made my heartbeat go faster and my skin prickle even more. After a few minutes, I slowly backed away, having finally managed to open the door. My head was spinning, I couldn't believe what had just happened. Of course I felt a surge of guilt immediately, the moment he left, but I couldn't suppress a slight feeling of triumph either.