Sex, lies and love truncheons
Allow me to recap – lying three abreast with my cleaner and my married lover Mike, all sticky but happy, the first seeds of guilt were planted when our post-orgasmic snug was disturbed by a call from Mike’s wife. The guilt quickly turned into jealousy.
Much as I wouldn’t want some tart and her cleaner meddling in my marriage, I don’t relish the interference of a dried up old crone and her insipid rugrats in my illicit affair. The idea of him sticking his love truncheon into her middle-aged kit and caboodle is too much to bear. I made him promise to abstain from marital fornication until further notice. I needed to consider whether I could overcome my jealousy and, if not, what to do about it. If I asked him to leave her, could I tie myself down indefinitely? If he refused, would I leave him? My feelings for Mike were becoming problematic. After years of dipping willy-nilly in and out of lustful liaisons sans regard to consequences, I had finally come unstuck. He agreed to my request and I felt reassured.
Meanwhile, my housemate Tina was having a great time whiling away the evenings with a young gentleman named Simon. However, she was suspicious that his avoidance of inviting her back to his was due to his concealing of a wife, Mr. Rochester style. Turning up unbidden at his home, she was horrified to stumble on a scene of dinnertime domesticity involving not a spouse, but parents. It soon appeared that Simon was not, as claimed, a 24-year-old post-graduate, but a 17-year-old A Level student. She shagged him anyway. There’s something titillating about inappropriate age gaps. After being reintroduced to the ‘three pumps and a squirt’ school of love-making, Tina concluded that he was not only younger than claimed but also less experienced. That’s right, gawping readers, Simon was a virgin.
Meanwhile, I was questioning Mike’s promise. Searching in his bedside drawer, I stumbled upon a photograph of him at the mercy of his aging yet beleathered succubus. A recognisable lovebite on his neck told me this was recent. This stung. Not only had he lied, he had also set up a camera on timer to record his betrayal.
Determined to complete the transaction, I took the sly route. ‘She’s so much older than you’, I murmured. To my surprise, he ventured guiltily: ‘Actually…’ Turns out Mike is well into his 50s, maintaining a semblance of youth by virtue of follicle implants and a superior gene pool.
Back in halls, I found Tina bemoaning the inadequacies of youth. Comparing stories, we realised that dishonesty was a common male feature. Why do men feel okay lying to women to lure them to bed? I’m no angel, but I’m honest, even if brutally so. After Tina’s brief encounter, which left her sticky but by no means happy, she dumped him in the manner befitting to a schoolboy: by text. I sense that solving my own sticky love triangle won’t be so simple.
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