Now that I am on my 3rd ‘confession’ as it were, I think its only fitting to convey a bit of my sexual history as well as also my feelings on casual sex. Now there’s 3 kinds of casual sex: the one night stand, the brief fling and the casual relationship. I’ll touch on casual relationships some other time but until then I’ll focus on the first two.
I find that a fair amount of people I know run by the ethos of only having sex with someone who they really feel really emotionally attached with, and who will not commit to the deed until months after courting each other, some that don’t do one night stands and some that only have repeated sex with someone if they are in a full on relationship with that person. There are even the people out there who wait until they get married to have sex with their partner. These are of course all perfectly respectable ways of living your life and I hold no argument against people’s choices to live like that. It’s just I, as well as the majority of people in the 16-25 age bracket prefer to shag someone simply because I get on well with them.
There are also lot of people out there who wait until they find someone they love before they have sex with them; this is usually the approach people take to losing their virginity. Apart of me wishes I’d of done this, but I’ve never been in love. I’ve never even had a proper relationship. My entire sex life has been based on casual experiences and no-strings agreements. Do I think this has shaped my casual approach to sex? Yes, I definitely do. Does it bother me? Not really. Here’s a brief history of it all.
Now I lost my virginity at 15 to a girl of a similar age who was just as equally as curious as I was to lose mine. Well I say it was curiosity, but I think the peer pressure to have sex at that age was probably more of the motivation. I wont regale that tale today, because not only can I not really remember it but I seem to remember thinking at the time that this whole sex thing everyone was banging on about was one big massive let down. From the moment I first penetrated a bird I immediately thought ‘is this really it? This is what everyone in the playground, everyone in the films and everyone in the songs has been going on about?’
So as my adolescent years went on and my further sexual encounters were pretty much all drunken fumbles at house parties I started to notice something, I never had feelings nor did I particularly fancy any of these girls or any other bird id encounter in any social situation. It seemed I was only doing these things, because my out of control adolescent hormones were forcing me to. My early years of learning sex were a bit like trying to learn how to drive drunk, but unlike the tense excitement of drinking and driving I was finding myself to be disillusioned by the whole activity.
Until I hit about 17/18 when I met a bird called Helen and started to really experiment with kinks and fetishes and then realised there was a whole new dimension to this sex malarkey. It was also around about this time where I noticed I was becoming a lot more social and my network of friends was expanding more and more, as was starting to experiment more with drugs as well as new social environments such as raves and festivals. I was starting to get more confident with talking to birds and I noticed I could convince them to have sex with me without being totally wasted. But still, not a single bird out there would grab my attention to the point where I thought I wanted to commit to them in that particular way. I wanted to. Christ did I want to! I remember quite a few teenage nights spent almost crying to Morrissey lyrics just wishing I had someone there to cuddle.
These feelings of loneliness plagued me for years up until I started university and I just got desensitised to it. I’d spent a whole adolescents acting the counsellor with the relationship troubles of my mates and then deal with their crushed emotions when they inevitably ended. From experiencing that I was very happy to pursue a life of simple, casual relationships with as many birds as I possibly could and the fact that I now had moved out of my parents house and into my own place made this lifestyle a lot easier to pursue.
Now I will point out now and this may come as a surprise but compared to the majority of my friends and birds that I’ve previously shagged, my sex drive is average at best. Literally days can pass without me even thinking about women or sex and I’ve known myself to clock up a good couple of weeks without having a wank, and even then I’ve only done it out of boredom or as a sleeping aid. But then other factors also come into it, like environment or routine. As for my sex drive a lot of that comes down to the seasons and the mood of my life at that time. This winter for example I got some sex, but when it wasn’t there I didn’t even think about it… at all. And one day even lay in bed and thought ‘is this even healthy? Is this a sign of depression?’ But when I compare this to friends and former shags who cant see a day out without having at least 3 wanks, or end up having their priorities being entirely focused on trying to find another bird or bloke to fuck I think that must be a frustrating way to live your life. What’s even more concerning is that most of their sex lives are even more baron then mine! But like any other 22-year-old bloke living in Britain, amongst the list of watching football and getting pissed, shagging birds is a favourite pass time of mine.
Now I’m no Casanova when it comes to chatting up birds, I also acknowledge that I don’t really have anything-special going for me in the looks department. But one thing I know for sure when my sex drive eventually rears its ugly head I know that if I don’t find something to fuck soon it’s really going to start getting in the way of my productivity. Luckily for me though someone usually is waiting around the corner and I’m usually always on enough form to pull it out the bag and end up bedding them.
Now some people may call my methods ‘having no standards’ and that I’d shag anything. This isn’t true, I will not shag anyone with a sense of smugness or arrogance, that’s a massive turn off, and I will not shag anything that has the personality of a plant pot. Neither would I entertain the idea of pleasuring them cretins you see who look like they’ve just walked off the set of Hollyoaks, hang around in places like Oceana and Chicago’s waiting for geezers in Ben Sherman shirts, with gelled hair to buy them drinks all night. I find that species of bird to be the most foul and disgusting, I also get the sense they are probably shit at sex too.
Other factors also come into the women I go for, over recent years of sampling different types of birds I have come to develop both a kinky-counter and nympho-meter. They work much in a similar way to a homosexual’s gay-dar. When I get chatting to a bird I start to notice particular traits in their personality and from this I can get both a sense of how kinky they are, and also how up for it they probably are too. I can’t explain how these traits work in words, as some of them are very subtle. Like how Derren Brown can guess your mums date of birth and the colour of your grandmothers dress that she was buried in, simply by little reactions in your face and body language.
Basically if you’re none of what I’ve mentioned above and you’re measuring high on the nympho-meter and kinky counter, we get on well and you laugh at my jokes and you seem like a fun person. Then it is highly likely I’m going to want to see if my readings were correct.
The reason why I act on my impulses of how much of a nympho or kinky bitch a woman is because that’s kind of makes the sometimes gruelling process of chatting up a bird more enjoyable. If she’s a massive nympho, then the chatting up process is going to be simple, if she’s kinky then that means you’re not going to be treading on egg shells when you’re fucking them. Think of it as comparing someone kinky to a fussy eater. For instance I consider a bird who doesn’t like giving or receiving oral sex to someone who doesn’t like eating cheese. How can you not like cheese? Its fucking cheese! But I guess we all have our quirks.
My most recent casual encounter actually happened with a bird from work called Claire. At the time I was working as a sandwich man and when all of us would return from our rounds we’d socialise in the depot as we was cashing up. Now for a few weeks Claire would catch my eye, she was loud and northern for a start and had a very laddish, overly friendly personality that I quite like in a bird and that usually means they measure a nice level on the kinky-counter as well as also coming in at at least a shagable 8 on the nympho-meter. She wasn’t particularly attractive in the face, but she had a superb arse that I actually wanted her to catch me looking at sometimes.
So one day whilst talking about football I mentioned that someone I knew had a couple of spare tickets going and was willing to give them away 2 for the price of 1. She jumped on this and said she’d be well up for seeing a Chelsea game, as she was yet to go to a game in London. Wicked! Taking a bird on a date to the football was a first for me. But was it a date? I never got any signals off her that she liked me, she was seemingly overly friendly with everyone in the depot. But anyway we go to the game it ends 2-2 after Chelsea drop a 2 goal lead. Shit for me but great for the neutral. Now bare in mind the two of us are sandwich people we couldn’t afford to go to a pub after the game nor could we before, so I assumed that this was it and the night was going to end there and then. Until she dropped the line ‘do you want to come back to mine?… all my housemates are away’. That was when I knew I had just been delivered a sublime through ball from the midfield and just had to turn the last defender to have a chance on goal. However I was aware that the clock is ticking, all my work stuff is at home and I also have to be up early in the morning, so theoretically speaking I’m in stoppage time and this is the last chance of the game. We get back to her place, open up a tin each in the living room, and stick on sky sports news to watch the highlights of the game we’d just seen. She then delivers the line ‘Do you want to go upstairs and listen to tunes’. Well this is it! I’ve turned the last defender, just the keeper to beat, have to score!
We walk into her room I stay standing observing her collection of books with that ‘we’re probably going to have sex’ feeling in the pit of my stomach, she turns on some RnB shite then turns around and goes straight in for a kiss pushing me onto the bed. That’s it! I’ve flicked it past the keeper, open goal, 6 yards out HAS TO SCORE!. She takes absolutely no time whatsoever in tearing off both of our shirts, shoves her hand down the front of my trackies making sure everything there is prepared and ready. Wacks my cock out, slides down and delivers a few revs of an enthusiastic blowy, then comes back up to my face to whisper in her sexiest Blackpool accent ‘have you got a condom?’… FUCK! ‘errr. No.’ I reply. I’ve hit the underside of the bar from the fucking six yard box! I’ve fucked it in the dying embers of the game, we’re going to have to settle for the draw (oral sex and fondiling) There is a pause before she concedes ‘fuck it’. Pulls her jeans and knickers down, sucks 2 of her fingers then rubs her clit, fingers her pussy and climbs onto my cock all within the same time it would of taken a player to head in the ball he’d just struck off the under side of the crossbar. I’d scored! And what’s more the sex was absolutely brilliant!
She had a textbook, athletically smooth body, cute perky tits and probably one of the best arses I’ve had the pleasures of spanking. She even had an enthusiasm and technique to riding my cock that I’d never experienced before and she was certainly in control of the situation, which I find, doesn’t happen that often. She used the same face sitting/grinding move that I’ve praised in previous posts and her dirty talk – which mainly consisted of foul mouthed insults, was made all the more filthier by her northern twang. But the highlight had to be this was one point where I was on top, she grabbed me by the throat, flipped us over into a reversed position and had me pinned to be the bed, gnawing on my ear and scratching my chest with her other hand… which at the time left me quite taken aback thinking ‘bloody hell! This one is playing for keeps!’ She kept this position before letting out a loud, pleasing orgasm that soaked the hairs on my balls.
With my eye on the time I knew we had about 10 minutes of post sex recovery time before I definitely had to leave, although to be honest I needed a good hour to recover from the physical work out she had put me through. We lay there silent for a bit then I looked over at her and realised that her cute smile was probably the best feature of her face, but it usually is on most birds. ‘I always did like the look of you’ she said in a girly tone I hadn’t heard her use before, with that same smile lighting up her face… That line that kept me smiling the whole cycle home. It’s funny how little moments like that can be better then the sex itself.
The next day at work I did wonder what the atmosphere would be like, but she had already told the whole depot. Which was fine by me. I quit that job that same week, then took her out the following weekend to a curry house she recommended, then to a strip club that I recommended. Again we ended up back at hers, fucked just with the same enthusiasm as before but this time I was able to stay over. She kicked me out of bed at 9 am after an awful nights sleep, saying ‘I’m having people over, you have to leave’. This all seemed quite abrupt and I sensed something wrong with the atmosphere, but just put it down to bird issues. Although I guess I should also mention at this point that the night before the date I had got truly rat arsed at a party, recovered by drinking all through the day, then passed out on a mates sofa making it too late for me to wash and change, o yea and also I smashed my face up at the party after slipping on a wet floor so half my mouth was all swollen.
However that same day I text her saying how I enjoyed my evening and that I hoped she enjoy the rest of her Sunday. No reply. I send her a text midweek asking how things are going. No reply. I then try ringing her that Friday to no reply. Maybe she has no credit on her phone to respond? The next week I go to collect the last of my wages, I see her there ‘hi Claire how’s it going?’ in my friendliest tone. ‘fine’ is her response, before walking off tapping away on her phone… I’ve tried to retrace what may of happened for her to give me the silent treatment. Was it my appearance on that second date? Was it how wasted I clearly was? But in reflection I think she was just a cunt. Personally I’d never blank someone I didn’t want to see again after shagging them a few times, especially one who’d taken them on 2 great dates, how fucking rude is that? It’s in the same league as telling your mate you’ll help them move house, but when it comes to it you just turn your phone off and ignore them because you cant be arsed. Now me, I’d tell them politely and diplomatically by text or email or facebook chat atleast.
I left the depot that last time feeling a bit frustrated and slightly used. I mean I had no intentions for anything further to happen with her but I thought I could of at least made a new friend to have football banter with. But oh well don’t dwell on it, another one down, tick ‘shag someone from work’ off the sex bucket list. In hindsight I kind of wished I’d gone for the cute Catalan bird who worked next to me. I also wished I’d worn a Jonny as well really.
Despite my occasional flings and dates with birds that I’m certain wont go anywhere and the only reason I’m there is out of curiosity of what they taste like. I do still often wonder who that girl is who is going to get me out of this casual lifestyle, one that makes me go ‘Yes! You! You are who I want to commit all my emotions, secrets, trust and dreams to’ Someone I can bring home to my mum and invite to our neighbourly BBQ’s, someone to look after me when I’m hungover or coming down, someone I can get into bitter arguments about fuck all with then act as is nothing happened an hour later… And then I like to think that there’s a bird out there with a similar kind of lifestyle, thinking the exact same thing, and we are just moments away from bumping into each other.
Play me out Mozzer….