3. The One That Proved Men Will Say Anything For Sex

Tongue-tied, random blushing, obsessive constant sexy thoughts…my first major crush was in high-school. Late night chats online and virtual flirting for months led to nothing but a huge regret for never making a move and wishing that he had. My second crush of similar consequence was as an adult with an older guy I met at the pub that I worked at as a barmaid - he often came in with the 'footy lads' after the game each week, as well as on the weekends. He changed girlfriends almost as often as he changed the girl he was fucking when he was between girlfriends. Three moved from one girlfriend to the next with no time in between - in fact they often overlapped and caught him out on his game then despised him for it. He was a relationship-aholic but a massive womaniser. He was also one of the sexiest guys that I'd ever seen.

I ignored the constant warnings from mutual acquaintances about what a dirty rat he was. I got so excited whenever I had the opportunity to spend a night on the other side of the bar, anticipating seeing him (whether we actually interacted or not was a completely different story). I also became bitterly disappointed when I arrived and he wasn't there - besides the footy boys, the pub really was slim pickings, with the average age of the regular patrons being mid-50s.

We slowly graduated from lingering lustful looks (well, on my part) across the bar, to short conversations heavy with sexual innuendo, to longer conversations filled with suggestive touching. It wasn't long until Three ended up in my bed one night after a few wines.

I'd excused myself from a conversation outside in the beer garden one night to visit the bathroom and touch up my red lipstick. I saw Three come around the corner and stand in the hallway, watching me as I leaned over the basin. I paused, the lipstick suspended in the air close to my lips as he walked towards me and stood behind me, close enough that I could feel his body touching mine. He ran his hands lightly up my back until they reached my shoulders, at which point he pulled me back to stand upright then brushed my hair away from my neck so that he could press his lips to the skin just beneath my ear.

"Are you going home?" He breathed softly in my ear. I wasn’t .

I shivered, my breath catching in my throat as a tingling feeling ran down my spine and I became aware that my hand was still suspended in the air. Putting the lipstick back in my clutch I looked up at him, his mouth still hovering deliciously close to my neck, and nodded.

"I'm coming with you,” he stated.

I turned to face him with my eyebrow cocked and replied mockingly "Oh, are you now?"

Three placed his hands against the basin trapping me there (like I was protesting!) and leaned into me, his mouth stopping only centimetres from mine. God damn, he smelled amazing. And those eyes. Melt!

"Yes,” he said, simply.

He closed the space between our mouths, brushing his lips ever-so-gently against mine, then moved back. Waiting for me to make a move, seemingly. I left him hanging, refusing to give an inch and not closing the few centimetres between us.

I wasn't able to maintain eye contact as I felt shy with him standing close to me like that. Three put his hand at the back of my neck and tilted my head up so that I had to look at him. Still, I gave him nothing. This time it wasn't just our lips that touched. Pressing his body hard up against mine he thrust his tongue into my mouth and held me there, assaulting my lips until we were both short of breath.

"Let's go." He said, breathing heavily as he grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the pub and straight into a cab.

Even though I had to be up the next morning for an important uni assessment we stayed up until 4am kissing, touching and talking. It was - as lame as it sounds - magical. I was so spaced out the next day that I could think of little else and kept breaking into random little smiles. Whether that was from a lack of sleep or because I was on such a high from a serious case of the fuzzy-wuzzies I don't know for sure.

Whilst we both agreed that it was a casual thing (ha, yeah right), I found it hard to keep my mind on anything else. I knew I didn't want a boyfriend but he was just so damn…charming. He said all the right things - just enough to keep me hanging on and dissecting every text wondering what he was actually thinking and what he really meant.

When it came to the actual sex, it was less-than-ordinary. In the two months that we saw each other casually, I didn't once see him with a full hard-on. We still managed to have sex once or twice with his semi-erection, but it was underwhelming. The mental foreplay from the flirting and build-up still kept me coming back though. I remember one night receiving a text at around 10.30pm i.e. a booty call. I turned up at his door in lingerie, high-heels and a trench coat, which was quickly discarded. The hot look in his eyes before he pushed me up against the wall and pressed his mouth to mine made it worth it. After about half an hour of mildly pleasing foreplay and an attempt at sex that ended in him moaning in frustration rather than pleasure, I was back in the car wondering if it was my fault.

After each failed effort, I realised that it wasn't me. But I also had no idea what I was supposed to do to fix it. I was hard not to take it personally when I constantly being told about a different woman that he had taken home that weekend - that was until his bitter ex-girlfriend came into the pub drunk one night.

"Oh yeah, he is a real catch," she slurred loudly enough that it was evident she wanted me to hear.

She lifted up her index finger then let it droop suggestively, and her friends roared with laughter. Rather than upset me - as I'm sure she was attempting to do - I was relieved. Clearly this wasn't an issue exclusive to me. Regardless, it wasn't an issue I had to deal with much longer.

After being almost infatuated with him for around a month, which included numerous arguments, he sat me down and let me down gently. He said he was worried that he was 'leading' me on and that he 'just wanted to be friends' and the usual clichéd crap. I was hurt, but at the same time I reminded myself that I didn't want a boyfriend, and for what I wanted - a casual friend that I could have sex with, without the complications of a relationship - Three certainly wasn't meeting my needs.

I would definitely miss the intense flirting though, cause damn it was exciting.

#Sex #SexLife #Impotence #ErectileDysfunction