Some words from Jayne.
I can hardly believe that the last time I published anything about Jayne's World, Part 11, was in December last year, sorry about that.
I have so much to tell about what happened to me in my twenties. How I had an older lover well, being absolutely honest two at the same time and a few younger as well. Also, how I drifted into the murky world of glamour and erotic photographic modelling and even darker areas of the sex trade that helped me financially survive the credit crunch and the ramifications of that.
I have purposefully written this in a grammatical style utilising first and third persons that some may dislike. However, I feel it more easily facilitates telling the story from both his and my viewpoints. I'd appreciate any comments on this unconventional approach.
Although I believe that this and the subsequent parts work as standalone stories for continuity, I recommend reading from Part 1. But whichever way you choose, I hope you enjoy my twenties life story and please feel free to leave any comments.
Thanks, and enjoy me,
Jayne.
Her.
I had forgotten just what it was like to have sex with a young guy. Since I had sidled into the second half of my twenties, the youngest guy I had been with was in his mid-thirties and James, my older lover for the last eighteen months or so, was well into his fifties, though he and I rarely discussed age. But somehow, as the party had wound down and the drunks snored and the druggies giggled, I ended up with Damien, a twenty-year-old professional footballer. Not the brightest spark nor the most eloquent conversationalist he was, though beautiful to look at when dressed and even more so naked, as we both were some half-hour later in his hotel room in Shoreditch.
As James had been travelling through south east Asia and Australia for the past six weeks, I was rather sex starved. I hadn't, therefore, taken much persuading to dance with Damien nor to let him snog me in a corner of the main party room. As the party dragged on and I had a few more vodkas so I became even easier to persuade into a little bedroom tucked away at the top of the four or five storey Victorian town house in Hoxton. Largely because the door didn't have a lock and I felt it was overly sordid to prop a chair against it to keep it shut, I resisted his attempts to shag me or, indeed, to undress me. So, the poor lamb was restricted to feeling my tits and to pleasuring me by slipping his hand up my skirt and making me cum with his finger. I offered rather half-heartedly to give him a hand job, but I think he realised the awkwardness of that and suggested we go to his hotel. Hence, by just after midnight I was naked in his bed with him having fucked me, after a few cursory kisses on my mouth and a couple of sucks of my nipples.
The speed with which he had undressed me, got me on my back in the bed with him on top and sliding into me, protected I was relieved to note, surprised me. However, that wasn't the biggest surprise as, unlike James my grandad of a lover, once in me he fucked me quick and hard and was cumming in no time at all. And that wasn't the biggest surprise either. I had ten years of sex experience behind me and should have remembered the young guys I'd been with in my teens. And like them, Damien didn't bother too much about what I was getting from the fuck but instead, after withdrawing from me and going for a pee, he came back to the bed almost erect again and was inside me again pretty damn quickly. This time he did make me cum but that was more due to my frustration than skill or technique on his part. It was a similar situation a few hours later when it was daylight, although I had no idea of the time, when he took me twice in quick order, again not bothering about my satisfaction either time.
As we said our goodbyes at about nine the next morning, I switched the last few digits around on the phone number I gave him.
Him.
Although we'd kept in touch on my long trip, I really had missed Jayne, so one of the first things I did after landing at Heathrow was to phone her. It was great to hear her voice and visualise the vision holding the phone and talking to me. It was only as her dulcet tones caressed my ears and stimulated other parts of my body that it registered with me that I had only had two fucks in over two months. I hadn't managed to see Jayne for a couple of weeks before leaving so as I set out on the trip, it was either get lucky or pay for it, so I did both.
I paid for a bath and a massage with a happy ending in Bangkok and got really lucky in Melbourne. An ex-member of my team, Marie, was divorced and living there. We had come close a few times to having sex in London when we worked together, and I remembered that she had moved to Australia to be with her son and his children, so I had emailed her, and we'd arranged to meet. I wasn't really expecting anything, but one can always hope and if you don't try you most certainly don't get to fuck, do you? Seeing her again after almost five years brought home to me how people, and women in particular, show their age as they rush far too quickly through their fifties; she was five years older than me, so was just over 60!
I hadn't ever had sex with a woman as old as her and quite frankly, although I needed it, I was disappointed. That was largely due to Jayne having been my only sex partner for eighteen months or so, and me getting used to the tautness of her body, smoothness of her skin and the tightness of her vagina. All bodily features that Marie didn't possess. That said, she was an enthusiastic lover and if I think like a male chauvinist pig, she provided a real port in my storm of sexual starvation.
As did, of course, the happy ending in Bangkok. Although I have paid for it a few times, usually when in London, I am not used to what happened there. I was offered six or so girls from which to choose my masseuse and the receptionist told me that today they had a special offer as they were training a few new girls, so all those who booked the top service, as they traded me up to, would get a trainee as well as the one they chose. As both were young and with the beauty and sexiness that Thai women are famed for, I was delighted, as I was with the service.
It started with me bathing in a deep, crescent shaped bath in which they joined me, naked of course. They soaped me all over causing the inevitable erection. They dried and powdered me then massaged me making no pretence at all of it being anything other than an erotic massage. It was quite an amazing experience having two naked women giving me a sensually soft, slow massage whilst I lay there stunningly erect. The next inevitability then happened, and they made me cum, offering me two pairs of breasts on which to deposit my goo. They showered me, we drank chai and ate some fruit together, I had a snooze wrapped in a silk sheet and was woken up by being kissed all over, and then after another massage they kissed and fondled each other until I was ready. I fucked the one I'd chosen as my masseuse whilst the trainee kissed her and caressed me. All in all, a well spent one hundred and fifty US dollars.
"So had a good time?" you asked in your usual chirpy and upbeat tone.
"Yes, thanks but I missed you."
"Really? Well, that's good, I suppose."
