Despite his rather disappointing performance, I found myself surprisingly wet. Was I aroused? Unfortunately not, girls and boys. Alas, Tena Lady Heavy Flow had not done its job. Yep, Aunt Flo had been a-visiting, and whilst she’d stayed a few days, I thought her little visit was done. Ah well, his mother will have fun with the sheets.
It was just like any other really, I was bored, he was inexperienced, I thought why not? He was very eager, doing that slobbering thing on my neck that young men think is attractive, his pubescent stubble grinding on my skin and his teeth getting a little too nippy for my liking. There was no wasting of time: he positively ran me up the stairs and into the bedroom, before proceeding to undress me and himself simultaneously, with limited success. I have to admit, from the start that I was more than a little dubious, the best things may come in small packages but in my experience, I have to beg the opposite, and this one wasn’t looking too hopeful. More a goujon than a sausage.
There was some tentative touching as he plucked ineffectually at my nipples like a suckling infant, panting with anticipation that almost rivaled my ambivalence. Let me be frank with you from the outset, boys and girls. His fingers were heading deep down south, approaching the furry boundary and in increasing danger of getting entangled and its vines when the first blob of moisture made itself known to me. I must be enjoying this more than I thought, and so I gave myself up to the vaguely rhythmical lumping up and down of his body and although the moment of penetration can hardly be described as ecstatic (though for him I might argue otherwise judging by the beads of sweat (effort? concentration?) on his forehead), and I did indeed find myself disturbingly wet.
This only spurred him on further as his thrusting became more of a thumping and lead to some rather disturbing dirty talk that can only be described as a mixture of clit-lit clichés and adolescent sexual performance-angst, as he fondled my clitoris like a stress ball. Alas, it was only after his moment of glory, as he carefully withdrew his various bodily parts from within me, that the glistening red of my menstrual flow appeared to us both, with that sticky, slightly acrid, metal smell of blood rising in waves to meet our post-arousal nostrils. And onto the sheets, a large, red arc. She’s a quick one, is Aunt Flo, she hits and she comes hard onto you. Needless to say, this killed the moment somewhat. He blubbered something incomprehensible and scurried away to the other side of the bed like a woodlouse, staring between fingers and bed as if he’d never heard of ‘women’s issues’ before. I calmly got up, wiped myself down and out and thought that since the time for subtlety was long gone there was no point in being meek. Reaching for the tampax compact, I walked towards the bathroom twining it idly through my fingers and humming the theme tune to Gladiators.