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The New Black Lace Book of Women’s Sexual Fantasies

Compiled and Edited by Mitzi Szereto

Contents

Cover

About the Book

About the Author

Title Page

Epigraph

1 Introduction

2 The Simple Pleasures

3 Sex on the Edge

4 The Danger Zone

Acknowledgements

Copyright

About the Book

Is anything off limits in the female imagination?

Why are dark and forbidden themes such a turn on?

What is the sexiest thing a man can do for a woman?

Is today’s woman more open-minded and willing to live out her fantasies?

Since the publication of the first Black Lace Book of Sexual Fantasies in 1997, the erotic landscape has changed massively. Sexual habits, lifestyles, opportunities and possibilities for women have been affected by a whole range of new influences, technologies and media. Mitzi Szereto has spent one year collecting and reading thousands of questionnaires posted to Black Lace by women between the ages of 17 and 85, from a diversity of backgrounds all over the world.

The result is an upbeat and explicit exposé of contemporary female sexuality in Britain and beyond. This new no-holds-barred collection of authentic erotic confessions gives a fascinating insight into the richness of the female imagination and is guaranteed to be an education as well as a turn-on. From the sweetly vanilla to the wildly and wickedly rough, this collection will dispel any notions that women’s sexual fantasies are in any way typical.

Mitzi Szereto is one of the world’s best known editors and authors of erotica.

About the Author

Author and anthologist Mitzi Szereto has more than a dozen books to her credit, including Erotic Fairy Tales: A Romp Through the Classics and The World’s Best Sex Writing 2005. Her work has been translated into several languages. Mitzi is pioneer of the erotic writing workshop in the UK and Europe, and her anthology Erotic Travel Tales 2 is the first anthology of erotica to feature a Fellow of the Royal Society of Literature. Originally from the USA, she now lives in England.

Acknowledgements

With thanks to Ashley Lister and Stuart Burrell

‘One of the most adventurous things left us is to go to bed. For no one can lay a hand on our dreams.’

– E V Lucas

1

Introduction: Why am I Here and Where are We Now?

Well, I suppose I should explain just how I ended up here in the first place. Perhaps it all goes back to my fifth year in primary school. And no, it’s not what you’re thinking – no playground rendezvous with the little boys or, for that matter, little girls. Rather my voracious appetite for books and the reading of them led me to borrow from a female classmate a dog-eared copy of the Victorian erotica classic The Romance of Lust that belonged to her parents. I became quite engrossed in this smutty tome though, admittedly, some of it went right over my head, which was probably a good thing in retrospect. My downfall came in trying to secrete it inside a school library copy of Abraham Lincoln’s biography. My mother thought I seemed just a wee bit too engrossed in the tale of Honest Abe, and consequently I was busted!

I’ll admit that my taste in reading material, although it wouldn’t be remotely along the same lines as The Romance of Lust for a number of years, was strictly adult in nature. Being an extremely precocious child (and an only child at that), I found I couldn’t abide the books aimed at my age group; not even the Young Adult novels could capture my fancy. Therefore, I opted to go with either seething Gothic Romances or the potboilers from the bestseller lists. Aside from the fact that the stories were engaging and well-written, there was plenty of sex (or at least a jolly good hint of it) to help a budding young writer of erotic fiction file it away for future inspiration.

As a writer of erotic prose and an editor of it as well, I’ve worked to expand my brief into the mainstream, crossing into other genres. But the core element of the erotic is always inherent in my work, be it subtle or extreme. As a writer, I consider it my job to create, and this can and does involve fantasy and, occasionally, a bittersweet dose of reality. Sometimes it comes purely (or, for that matter, impurely) from the imagination, bearing no relation to personal taste or experience. However, because the erotic is so cerebral, it’s not surprising that the writing of it quite often stems from the writer’s personal fantasies. Fantasies are our private playground – and you don’t need to be a writer to frolic in this sandbox. We’re all gifted with the ability to fantasise, and when it comes to sexual fantasy, the scenarios are as varied as the owners of the minds doing the fantasising.

To mark the fifteenth anniversary of Black Lace Books, I am pleased to have been invited to edit this new volume and, indeed, to offer some indication as to where we, as women, are today as sexual beings. The first Black Lace Book of Women’s Sexual Fantasies is the most successful title in Black Lace’s history. Originally published in 1999, it has never been out of print and is still read widely throughout the world. There’s a simple reason for this success: the book was authentic. And, indeed, the content of this book is likewise 100 per cent authentic, not solicited scenarios from professional sex writers. While The New Black Lace Book of Women’s Sexual Fantasies will primarily be upbeat and entertaining, it will also provide an informal sociological and cultural study of contemporary female sexuality in Britain and beyond. Entertainment and enlightenment, surprise and titillation, and, hopefully, some shaking up of assumptions. That is what I’m offering.

As editor, the most important thing for me was to be as representational of the female population as possible. Material has been collected, read and analysed from women of all ages and all sexualities and lifestyles – from women in steady relationships to those who are virgins (and yes, they’re out there!), from women who are very sexually active to women who are celibate. I’ve chosen to include more detailed information for each participant such as age, domestic and sexual lifestyle status, education, profession and location, in order to give a fuller picture of each woman. These are real women, not inventions of lad’s magazines or the porn industry – real women who have experienced sex and sexual fantasy in a multitude of ways and means. These women have shared their private lives with us and exhibited their secret thoughts to thousands of readers. Their courage and honesty should be applauded. It would be hubris to categorise (and thus draw conclusions from) women’s sexual interests and fantasies according to age, education, and profession, and I won’t even attempt to do so. As is evident on these pages, women are truly all over the map as far as the content of their fantasies. In fact, it’s probably safe to say that it would be a major mistake to assume anything about a woman based on age, education or profession.

Since the publication in 1999 of the first Black Lace Book of Sexual Fantasies, the sexual landscape has changed dramatically. Sexual habits, lifestyles, opportunities and the possibilities for women have been affected by a whole range of new influences, technologies and media. In many ways 1999 seems a more innocent time than that in which we now find ourselves. Everything has become so complicated – the more choices given to us and the more variety of means in which we have to enjoy them, the more we keep searching and seeking. We now live in a world of internet dating, whether of an adult nature (offering no-strings sex as well as avenues for marrieds looking to play outside the marital home), to providing online access to those with more traditional romantic aspirations. There are sites for swingers and sites for the marriage-minded. There are sites for young women looking for rich sugar daddies and sites for older women looking for younger men. Whichever option one chooses, they have created easy access to numerous partners or potential partners. Now women don’t even need to step out of their front door to find a man. The internet has become the proverbial singles’ bar, revolutionising sexual and dating habits. No longer is it necessary to rely on friends or work mates to ‘fix us up’ or, for that matter, to sit at a bar nursing a glass of wine for an entire evening in the hope that a man will take the initiative to start up a conversation. As a result, the popularity of internet dating has led to a surge in female promiscuity.

Surprisingly, for a large number of people, the sites aimed at the relationship-minded seem to have become just the opposite, offering a less stigmatised way for those seeking no-strings sex, thereby eliminating the need to join the ‘adult’ sites catering for those simply ‘on the prowl’. It should, however, be mentioned that these sites have also been covertly used by marrieds claiming to be single, especially in the case of men – meaning don’t always believe everything you read on the tin!

The rise of recreational sex (swinging) has also had an impact on women’s sexual habits, specifically when it comes to married women or women in steady relationships. Sexual fantasies and the willingness of these women to live them out have led many to discard monogamy as a lifestyle choice. Although statistically the numbers in the swinging community are not high, the openness of participants and the media’s prurient spotlight upon it make recreational sex appear more prevalent than it actually is. Nevertheless, it’s definitely out there and a lot easier to find for those who wish to find it.

Locating partners to have sex with is one thing, but now it seems there are even more ways in which to actually have sex – how does one choose? In the last decade there has been a proliferation of hardcore pornography in visual media, and a rise and mainstreaming of kink. Sex and porn appear in popular music, advertising, talk shows and reality TV. Without a doubt, pornography has had an influence on contemporary sexual culture, and that hasn’t changed. If anything, it’s exposed the general population to acts they would never have dreamed of, let alone imagined being physically or physiologically possible. It can also be argued that it’s had a desensitising effect, particularly on men. Twenty-first century porn is embellished with alternative sexual practices, and even extreme sexual practices, leading to a rise in what is often dubbed ‘Freak-show Porn’. Fisting (originally a practice among the gay leather community) and squirting (the medical verdict is still out on this one) can easily be found in porn, as well as gang-bang scenarios, some of which can be extremely brutal. It’s also becoming common to witness double, if not triple, penetration, very often in the same orifice (reconstructive surgeons for porn stars are already having a lucrative field day with the physiological results). Every sexual taste and perversion is catered for and, thanks to the internet and a broadband connection, available at the click of a mouse.

In recent years sex toys have enjoyed a massive increase in popularity, availability and variety. Once objects of embarrassment, they have now become accepted and have made their way into the mainstream, enhancing the sex lives of women who are either with or without partners. No longer is it considered unusual for a woman to have at least one toy in her bedside drawer or, for that matter, to include a stop at her local Ann Summers as part of her Saturday afternoon shopping. More and more heterosexual couples are discovering the fun of adding sex toys to their bedroom repertoire, thereby improving their sex lives and bringing them closer together.

Today’s woman is definitely a lot more open about what she wants in the bedroom – and that’s a good thing. And, although the mass media and pornography would like us to believe that women are getting it and getting it good, this is not always the reality. According to the women who have participated in our survey, it’s a pretty mixed bag. While some women are having the time of their lives, others are still waiting for the one to ring their bell, while others are hoping to recreate that singularly amazing experience that transformed their lives. Therefore, if we are to draw any sort of conclusion from all of this, the sexual experiences and sexual satisfactions of the contemporary woman are not the same. Meaning – there is no norm, and women should not be made to feel in any way wanting because their sexual experiences do not compare with or measure up to others. Be it the lack of a suitably satisfying partner (or a partner in general), the stress of work and family life, health issues, disability, etc., women are not all the same – and neither are their sex lives. However, one thing that does appear to be universal is the modern woman’s willingness to try new things, to experiment, to abandon her inhibitions, even if only in her fantasy life. The variety of sexual activity discussed in the questionnaires and explored in the fantasies submitted to this project indicate that women are definitely more open and up for new things in the erotic arena, and can not only compete with, but may even have surpassed their male counterparts in both sexual imagination and experimentation. Maybe with a bit of courage and the right partner, all these women will one day be able to live out their fantasies, providing, of course, that they wish to or, at the very least, are able to share their fantasies with those with whom they share their bodies, thereby leading to a richer and more fulfilling sex life.

I’d like to thank the many participants who sent in their questionnaires. They came in from every corner of the world, including Great Britain, Ireland, the United States, Canada, Austria, Germany, Sweden, the Netherlands, Australia, New Zealand, South America, China, Singapore, Korea, Kenya, and even Botswana. Without these women willing to share themselves and their sexual thoughts with us, this book would not have been possible. I was touched by many of the replies, some of which were highly personal and heartfelt about these women’s private lives and feelings, their hopes and disappointments. Even with the anonymity provided, it could not have been easy for them to open themselves so completely to both myself and you, the reader.

By the way, one of the fantasies in this book is mine. Can you guess which one?

2

The Simple Pleasures

‘Simplicity is the glory of expression.’

– Walt Whitman

When we fantasise, we embark upon journeys that take us to places we’re never likely to visit or experience. This holds particularly true when it comes to the realm of the erotic. Fantasies are our private haven, our safety net, the place where we can imagine anything and everything and be completely free from judgement or censure. We can remove ourselves from our daily humdrum realities. We can become someone else, be as wild as we desire, do things we’d never consider doing, have sex with people we’d never in our lives consider having sex with. There are no limits to what we can do inside our minds.

Yet sometimes we don’t have to grasp for the extravagant in order to fulfil our desires. Instead we might fantasise about things that are more known to us, things we might already have experienced in some form or other, or can very easily experience given the right set of circumstances. Sometimes a sexual fantasy can be far closer, far more real, offering us a taste of the probable rather than the improbable. Indeed, these fantasies are no less intense or erotic for their simplicity, but are perhaps all the sweeter for it.

There are many ways to enjoy sex – from the sacred to the profane. However, let’s begin by getting our feet wet with more traditional pursuits. In this section we will explore the so-called ‘vanilla’ pleasures – sex that takes place between two consenting adults and that tends not to go too far into the experimental, although it might tease provocatively at the surface. Romantic settings and scenarios are rife, as are encounters between committed partners or those already known to us in some capacity. Historical backdrops are a proven turn-on in this category, steamy bodice-rippers being alive and well in the minds of our participants. So, too, is sex with strangers or those whom we’ve never met (or are likely to), including a famous country and western music star. It’s all in the name of good, clean (well, maybe not that clean) fun! Although these fantasies are more concerned with the light than the dark, they are by no means predictable or mundane. For women’s sexuality is anything but predictable or mundane.

Two’s Company

Nicole, age 26
Bisexual
Celibate
Children
Associate’s degree
Student
New York, USA

The best sex I probably ever had was with a girl I’d been in the army with. We were stationed in Iraq together and it was my birthday that night. Most of our friends had stayed over in her room and I didn’t intend on anything happening. But when I caught a glimpse of her breasts silhouetted against the moonlight, I felt the stirring growing inside my body, pushing against my nipples and thumping against my clitoris. Little by little all of our friends began to leave and I sat next to her on the bed. As if she could sense what I was thinking, she motioned to one of our friends that she was tired and had to go to sleep. I said that I was going to stay over with her since we had not seen each other for a few months. The minute our friend had left, my hands were against her breasts and our tongues were inside each other’s mouths, entangled, licking and sucking each other’s lips and mouths, our hands rubbing and massaging each other’s breasts and nipples, teasing each other. I began kissing her neck until I couldn’t take it anymore; I had to have her tits in my mouth. I lifted her shirt and stared at her white breasts with her hard pink nipples protruding as if pushing against an invisible wall. They looked so juicy to me that I swear I’d begun to salivate as my clit hardened, and I could feel the pulse of my heart thudding inside my pants, my tongue seeming to extend itself on its own, as if becoming its own entity. I felt her shiver in my arms as her left nipple entered my wet mouth. I heard her moan a little but I wasn’t done. The idea of us getting caught had turned me on so much that I’d begun to play with myself as I kept sucking her tits. I could feel her nipples become harder in my mouth as I licked and sucked faster and faster. I even took both tits and sucked both nipples at the same time. She howled as I nibbled on them, then licked them back and forth like a windshield wiper. Then she lifted off my shirt and sucked my brown nipples as if they spouted water like a fountain.

As I watched her I wanted to come so hard, and my clit felt as hard as a rock and as large as the top of my thumb. Then she placed her hand down my pants and fingered my pussy. I stopped breathing as her fingers fucked me and my clit throbbed with delight. I told her to bite down on my tits and, when she did, the ecstasy was too much to hold inside. I wanted to eat her, to taste her against my tongue. My pants were off in a matter of seconds and so were the rest of her clothes. Naked, we pressed our bodies into each other, feeling the heat of our skin and throb of our clits. I lay on the bed and spread my legs and she lay on top of me, ass first. I could see her wet pussy aching for my tongue and as I plunged it into her she shook and did the same to me. I could feel her tongue inside my hole, licking and sucking inside me. I moaned; it felt so good. I arched my back so she would fall deeper into me and when she did, I could feel her body eating me with excitement. I was so turned on by then, I let my tongue and teeth nibble gently against her clit until I could feel the heat coming off from the inside of her pussy. I let my tongue slip back inside and swallowed her juices. Then I kissed the outside of her pussy lips, letting them slide up and down my lips and tongue. I let my mouth search her clit a little more as her head bobbed up and down, forcing her tongue into my hole. I could feel it fucking me over and over and I was urged to do one better for her.

I put my two fingers into her pussy and fucked her. She was so turned on that she stopped and moved with my fingers. I saw her hips moving back and forth following the motion of my fingers inside her. Then I swirled them a little and she came. She jumped off me and went to her drawer and grabbed her electric dildo and turned it on. I spread my legs and she pushed it into me and then licked my clit at the same time. I pushed her head deeper between my legs and she motioned the dildo faster and faster. I let go of her head and played with my own nipples. She lifted her head to eye level and watched as my nipples were massaged by my hands. I felt the tremor of coming shoot from deep inside me. As I came, she stuck her tongue in my pussy and licked it up, sucking in my juices as they flowed out of me. I grabbed her head as she lapped up all my come into her mouth. Afterwards she climbed on top of me and we kissed with the taste of each other on our lips.

I usually fantasise several times a day. My favourite fantasy is based on the memory of my first sexual experience. I remember when I was fifteen I had my first sexual experience on a staircase with a boy I met at a mock trial conference. His name was Jason and he seemed so nice. As we kissed that night, I had begun to feel urges I had never felt before. So as he lead me up the staircase I was a little afraid and titillated because my mother’s apartment was right below where we were. I felt his strong lips kiss mine and the hardness of his cock in his pants. My nipples had begun to protrude through the shirt I was wearing as he massaged my tits. Then he kissed my nipples inside the shirt and I remember this surge ran through my body. It was the first time I had felt something like that and I went wild. I immediately lifted my shirt and I saw his eyes widen with delight. His tongue was large and long and he began to lick my nipples. I moaned his name over and over, and that’s when I pulled his cock out. It was the first time I had seen an actual penis not on TV, so when he stroked it with his hands I saw it flex and stretch. As if by instinct, I bent on my knees and put it in my mouth. He moaned and he pushed my head back and forth. I kept sucking as he begged me not to stop. I felt it harden inside my mouth and I sucked even faster until he came in my mouth. I could feel the warm gush of his come sliding down my throat and it tasted so good to me then. As he guided me up, he kissed my lips and his tongue was back in my mouth. Then he went for my nipples again. I arched my legs up as we dry fucked. Then he put his hands down my pants and stroked my clit and pussy. I moaned his name over and over as I felt the power of his lips and hands until my body jerked and I came for the first time.

Name withheld, age 36
Heterosexual
Celibate
Children
College
Social Worker
Nevada, USA

I’m still discovering my sexuality. I was married for fifteen years and sex was OK. I think my ex tried to please me out of obligation. I’ve always loved vampire films and, even as a little girl, I got a guilty pleasure out of watching the vampire seduce the woman he wanted the most, finally taking her into his arms and biting her ever so tenderly. I’ve always liked watching and reading porn, especially when the guy is performing oral sex on the woman. I don’t mind watching the woman masturbate, but I look for men masturbating. It’s really hard to find. I think of myself as a voyeur because I don’t feel at liberty to have intercourse. I knew from a young age that I was straight. Although there was this one time, I don’t know how it came about, but I kissed this girl. I was probably eight years old. I liked it OK, but preferred boys by far and never told anyone (I think) until now.

Growing up in a poor black neighbourhood for a few years, sex was not looked upon favourably by my grandmother or mother. Although I was intrigued by sex, I feared doing it because I was afraid of getting pregnant. My mom had me at fourteen and instilled a fear in me that she would find out if I ever did it. I spent a lot of years in church and that influenced me a lot, much to my ex’s dismay. There were things that Christian women didn’t do, and I liked the idea of doing them all, but was afraid to for some reason. I’ve relaxed over the years, but now I’m divorced. I have had sex (unfortunately) with a guy that I was very attracted to, but the sex wasn’t what I expected. He had stamina, but that’s not what I want. I really want intimacy mixed with roughness. I don’t know if I like it for sure, because I’ve never had the opportunity, but I’d love to be tied up. I’d be a risk taker … risky for frigid me. What holds me back? God, mostly. I had a guy ask me once (when I was married), if I felt it did not have any negative repercussions, would I do it. I told him no. He asked why. I said because I’d know what I’d done. I don’t want to be promiscuous even though I love men and would like to be with them physically. Trade salvation for orgasm? I think I’m doing it anyway, but don’t feel that great about it. Sometimes I wish I didn’t have a sex drive. It reminds me that I’m human.

The best sex I ever had was when my ex and I were first married. He’s in the military and at the time we were stationed in England. His tour was up there, so the house was packed up and we were waiting for our time to leave. We had sex about every other day back then, almost like clockwork. This one particular morning we had sex, but I didn’t care for it because it seemed one-sided and I got absolutely nothing out of it. I started crying and he asked me what was wrong. I told him that I didn’t think the sex was good. I don’t remember if he said anything, but he started touching me (I really can’t remember how). I was ready to receive him and he entered me – missionary style. It was slow and deliberate. I could feel the arch in his lower back as he gently thrust his penis in and out of me. I began to move my pelvis when it started feeling good to me. We got in sync with each other. At some point he rubbed me just right. Our pace quickened and I felt the shudder that told me that orgasm was imminent. This caused me to move … with more enthusiasm. He was really close to coming but didn’t climax. Then I felt it, that inexplicable rush that only seems to come with intercourse climaxes. I convulsed (I can’t think of another way to put it) and held him close as he continued his motions. Then he came and we were on the floor in the living room coming together. That was a good day.

The main theme running through my fantasies is that the man really wants to be with me and it’s not about the sex, but the intimacy of two people joining together in the most physical way possible. He holds me tightly and seems to never want to let me go. In my favourite fantasies a guy who’s a friend has recently caused me to have two massive orgasms without ever penetrating my vagina with his penis. These fantasies, if they can be called that, are basically him teaching me what he knows about oral sex and different forms of foreplay. He ties me up. He bathes me and then licks me. He buys me leather and I wear it for him so he can playfully torment me until I beg for his mouth to eat me.

Rachael, age 21
Heterosexual
Single, moderately sexually active
National Vocational Qualification
Store Assistant
East Midlands, UK

I fantasise about women, although I have had no sexual experiences with any. I fantasise about lots of men taking advantage of me and being watched as I masturbate. I love erotic books; I also enjoy porn movies (especially girl on girl). I enjoy sending people video messages of myself masturbating and finding out they’re horny and want their cocks deep inside me!

In my favourite fantasy I’m a passenger in a car with a friend (male). We haven’t planned anywhere to go or anything to do. As we drive, a storm begins. I tell him storms turn me on and before I know it I’m playing with my clit in the passenger seat. He pulls over in a quiet country lane, and I can see his trousers bulging. He rips open my shirt and gropes my breasts. I become increasingly turned on as he fumbles to find his way inside my trousers. When he touches me I scream with pleasure and orgasm so fast that, before I know it, we’re on the back seat of the car, my legs spread so wide as he thrusts deep into me.

Jeanne, age 81
Heterosexual
Widowed, celibate but looking
Children
Author/Pensioner
Wiltshire, UK

I fell madly in love with Errol Flynn at ten years old, though I knew nothing about sex then. In film I was also turned on by The Three Musketeers and Dracula, particularly the bit where Jonathan Harker is seduced by Dracula’s vampire bride/sisters. I loved the hippy era, where men wore flowing hair and kaftans, loons and sandals, and lots of beads. I’ve always been a bohemian in dress and taste. Then there were the dashing cavaliers of the seventeenth century, again long hair and fancy clothes, with much swashbuckling and swordplay. This was down to early reading of historical novels. Turn-ons now are Johnny Depp in The Libertine and male ballet dancers in classical and modern pieces.

My fantasies feature young handsome men with long hair and chiselled features. I’m cynical now, no longer romantic, but I’d still like to find a knight on a white horse to carry me away to Neverland. I like young men, and this is difficult to fulfil now that I’m older. In my fantasy I’m in a pub in Glastonbury. This ancient town is one of my favourite stomping grounds, absolutely heaving with personable young men, the long-haired hippy type that turns me on. I’m at the bar, ordering a G&T. A guy comes in, a Cap’n Jack Sparrow look-alike. I have noticed that several are aping The Pirates of the Caribbean. This one in particular has tight jeans, a promising bulge, a baggy-sleeved white shirt, gold hoop earrings, locks halfway down his back and a headscarf.

I want him.

‘That one’s mine,’ I warn off Maggie, the friend I came in with. She nods and shrugs. I know he isn’t her bag. She’s into the sophisticated male, but is happy to indulge me. Following her own agenda, she heads off in the direction of half a dozen business executives who are slumming it.

I feast my eyes on my boy. It doesn’t matter that I’m twice his age. I have always gone for men who are my juniors. Don’t find those of my own years in the least attractive. They don’t rouse my lust, stir my blood, or fill me with the desire to stroke their curls or unzip their pants. I lean on the bar, eyeing him boldly, never mind that he may think I’m his mother. So what? Isn’t there such a thing as an Oedipus complex? I’d spoil him, indulge him, buy him whatever he wanted. I’m not proud.

I’ve kept my looks, worked on my figure, dress trendy, not frumpy.

‘Come to me, baby,’ I croon inwardly. ‘Let me hire a room, take you upstairs and give you the benefit of my considerable experience and the best blow job of your entire life.’

He drops his money and bends to retrieve it. So do I. Our fingers meet. I don’t draw back and neither does he. He grins and there’s that flash of chemistry between us without which sex rarely, if ever, happens. I’m creaming my panties for him. I smile across at Maggie. She shrugs and takes herself off in pursuit of her own ovarian stimulation, knowing what I’m like and leaving me to it. She’s on the hunt, following a quest of her own.

‘Can I buy you a drink?’ is my opening gambit.

‘Sure,’ he says, glancing at the mates who are with him, some dressed as pirates, too. They give him the thumbs up.

I don’t intend to get him plastered – just enough alcohol to make him unaware of the age gap. This doesn’t seem to be bothering him, however, and we sit together on a bench. We don’t talk much, maybe remark on the historic building, and he tells me he’s in a band (what else?), plays guitar and they are going on tour soon. I could be talking to my youngest son. I don’t care about this. All I want is to be alone with him. I lean closer, my thigh pressed to his, feeling his heat through my thin skirt. Thrills run up and down my spine and my cunt spasms. It has been some time since I’ve had one who so closely fulfils my ideal. He’s lovely, and I shall be sorry to see him leave.

‘Shall we go outside?’ he murmurs, his stubbly jaw brushing my cheek. He even smells nice, of joss sticks and patchouli oil and the faint whiff of cannabis.

‘Better than that,’ I promise, and leave him for a moment to visit the reception desk. It’s all so easy if you have money.

We go along the main corridor and mount the curving oak staircase. I have the key for Room 14, the gateway to paradise.

It is everything I had requested of the receptionist, darkly panelled and with a log fire burning in the stone grate. (Mock electric but no matter.) There are velvet drapes at the windows and the pièce de résistance is the massive four-poster bed.

‘Cool,’ remarks my pick-up, Luke.

‘Come on, then, pirate! Show me how you rape and pillage!’ I urge, already sprawling over the duvet.

It amuses me to see that he is rather shy, but this is endearing. Does his mummy know he’s out? I spend a second speculating on his background. Is he really a drop-out or is this simply a pose? Maybe a student? Does it matter? No. He joins me on the bed, carrying the bottle of wine and two glasses. We drink. Then I’ve had enough of fucking about and want to get down to business. I take off his bandanna and his long black hair comes snaking down, making him even more irresistible. God, but he’s a handsome beast!

He’s swarthy, with dark eyes, sort of Italian looking. I push open his shirt and his skin is tanned. His chest carries a sprinkling of hair that thins out, like an arrow pointing past his navel to be swallowed up in the inky thatch covering his lower belly. Losing any reserve he might have had, he holds me in his arms and kisses me. His kisses are thorough, lips, tongue, teeth, everything. Moist and warm and fragrant. Not a hint of halitosis.

I want to screw, yet want it to last. I remind myself that he is young, so could probably perform several times in a row, unlike older men who have to rest after they’ve shot their bolt. Even so, ‘Slow down,’ I say, and tug at his belt.

The mattress sags as he sits on one side and pulls off his trainers. White socks follow and then he stands up, wearing only his jeans. He unzips and peels them off, presenting his tight buttocks to me, then turning so that I can see the complete emergence of his cock. What a beauty! It is all that I had hoped for and more, long, already at full stand, brown-skinned and au naturel. No knife had robbed him of his foreskin.

‘Are you going to let me fuck you?’ he asks, with a boyish grin.

‘Try and stop me!’ I growl, and grab him in a bear-hug. Common sense prevails and I get a packet from my bag, rip it open and take out a silvery condom.

He stands before me and I revel in the pleasurable task of preparing his rock-hard dick. I lick it from base to tip, concentrating on the flange, feeling him shudder, hearing him moan, slurping the milky tears that emerge from the slit. He is oh-so ready. I take care not to tip him over the edge and lose that first, fierce rush of spunk. I slip the rubber on from tip to base. I wish I didn’t have to cover that delicious cock but needs must.

I keep him on the boil, working my tongue around his peat-dark nipples, closing on the taut nubs, making him gasp. He takes control, pushing me on my back, parting my legs and going down on me, his face buried in my wet minge. He holds my labial wings apart and sucks my clit, drawing it between his lips. I want to come so badly. He slurps and licks, his tongue-tip giving me divine sensations. My climax breaks and I yell, bucking on the bed, fireworks exploding in my brain. Then he’s on me and in me, my knees pressed apart, his cock entering easily despite its size, lubricated by my love-juice.

It’s wonderful and he rides me fiercely, coming in savage thrusts. I feel his heat filling the condom. He jerks once, twice, thrice, and then rests his head on my shoulder, breathing quickly and muttering, ‘That was wicked! You’re one hell of a fuck!’

If I was a cat, I’d purr. What a compliment! My kids would never believe it. And what about my husband who tells me I’m too middle-aged and that no one else but him would be interested in me? I know he’s banging his young secretary. Screw you! I think savagely.

I’m far from finished with lover-boy, just warming up. ‘On your back,’ I command.

I sit astride him, knees on each side of his body, then go higher until I’m straddling his face. He gobbles at my cunt eagerly, his tongue swirling around my engorged clit. I grab him by that lovely hair, using it as a rein to bind him to me. I let myself go, another orgasm rising in waves, taking me to heaven again. I peak, yelling, digging my nails into his scalp. Then, leaving his mouth, I slither down, impaling myself on his upwards-pointing prick.

I take it deep inside me, pumping hard, determined to bring him off. He flips me over, wanting to be on top, and I clamp my legs around his waist as he rams harder, releasing a further hot spurt of come into the condom. It is time we changed this. I don’t want a little accident, although I could always say it was my husband’s. Neither do I want to pick up something nasty with a long name and fatal results.

We lie there satiated for the moment. The condom is replaced by another.

‘You want some more?’ He seems surprised and impressed.

‘Am I too much for you?’

‘Hell, no!’ he protests, his manhood under question.

He is utterly charming and I’ll have to keep a tight hold on my emotions. Don’t want to turn into a pathetic older woman who is besotted with her toyboy.

We drink more wine, and he is obviously intrigued by his surroundings. ‘I’m used to sleeping on people’s floors or in tents. Never seen anything like this. Only in movies. It must have cost.’

Is he getting mercenary? The thought pops into my mind. I hope not, though it’s hard to kid myself that he’s there for the sake of my girlish figure and lovely face. I’m not that dumb. He’s dipped his wick twice, and the first urgency will be gone. Good thing I lit the candles. It’s always more flattering.

I change the subject. ‘Have you ever had a massage?’

‘One of the girls on a stall at the pop festival was doing them. It was cool.’

Bitch! How dare she touch his body? I’m jealous and determined to put this right.

‘Roll over,’ I command.

I oil my hands, admiring him all the while. There is something so appealing about a young man’s body. His arms are folded and his face rests on them, turned to one side. His shoulders are wide and ripple with muscle. His torso sweeps down to a narrow waist. His buttocks are tight, more muscle-moulding plains and hollows, and his thighs meld into the backs of his knees, his calves, ankles, and tapering feet. I could watch him for ever.

I start at the nape of his neck after pushing aside those raven curls. He lies still as if sleeping, perfectly relaxed. I’ve learned how to give a massage and, almost gloating, allow my worshipping hands to knead his flesh. I know he is enjoying the sensation, though he doesn’t stir. Along his spine, working the sinews like dough, absorbing his youth, masculinity and sexuality through my fingers, then around his supple waist, enjoying the curve of his lower back, diving between his arse cheeks, so excited that I can hardly function.

I get a grip, promise myself a treat very soon, and continue to work on his thighs, knees, lower leg, and finish with his Achilles heel, thinking of Brad Pitt in the movie Troy. Luke could be a film star. I daydream of introducing him to a director I know, wondering if he could act. But then, if he were successful, I’d have to share him with a million cock-struck fans. I decide not.

He stirs a little restlessly and I guess that his prick is getting excited again under my ministrations. I’m glad I’ve another packet of three. I work around each toe.

‘D’you want me to turn over?’ he murmurs.

‘Oh, yes,’ I reply, straightening up as he moves with the grace of an athlete, presenting me with the wonderful sight of his dick.

I was right. It’s swollen to half mast again.