Girl on the Net: My Not-So-Shameful Sex Secrets by Girl On the Net

Author:Girl On the Net [Girl on the Net]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781472017055
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2013-12-15T00:00:00+00:00

10. A brief interlude in which we discover that I am not exactly a talented seductress

Number ten was a trip I was happy to take away from number eight. Number eleven most definitely wasn’t.

A gathering of friends, a nostalgia for the country I’d soon be leaving, a heart still cracking under the weight of how much I missed eight and a hefty helping of far too much cheap booze—all of these things conspired to lead my already frazzled brain into making a poor decision.

I decided to fuck another girl.

I didn’t set out to fuck her experimentally, I didn’t wonder, Hey, maybe I’m a bit gay. I was pretty sure I wasn’t—the ‘cock fetish’ thing, remember? Even before I fucked her I knew that her distinct lack of a penis would be a tricky hurdle to overcome if the sex we were to have would be anything other than a distracting, interesting way to pass the evening. I didn’t decide to fuck her because she was a girl, I decided to fuck her despite her being a girl.

She was tall and wiry—a direct contrast to the delicate curvaceousness of number nine. She had the same confidence but it was matched with a brash, arrogant attitude that reminded me of First Love, number two, and all the domineering, egotistical famous people who strut regularly through my wank bank. From behind she looked deliciously ambiguous—feminine hips but a tight, square set in her shoulders that could easily have made her a boy. She had short, spiked hair, and she wore vest tops with no bra. When she barked raucous laughter into the night I wasn’t the only person whose head was turned—we listened because of the laughter, but were looking at her nipples, which stood out hard and dark against the thin white cotton of her vest.

Number eleven swigged beer and preened, challenging people to quick-fire drinking matches that ended with lager sprays and piss-taking. I accepted her challenges a couple of times, swigging bitter fizziness to try and impress her. I was intrigued by her power. I wanted to know how it would feel to be owned by her, conquered in the same way that number eight had conquered me—with whispered commands, twinkling eyes and filthy suggestions that I carried out because I wanted to please.

I wanted to feel her hands all over me, pinching and pulling at my nipples before she flipped me over, parted my thighs, and ran her fingers over and into me.

But life, as we are constantly reminded, is a bitch. A cold-hearted bitch who point-blank refuses to deliver the exact fantasies that play out inside our heads. Whether it’s birthday parties that end in bitter fights, dream holidays that end in a roach-infested hostel or, in my case, hot girlsex that ends in one of you having to escape from a tent at four in the morning swearing you’ll never drink again.

The first warning sign, and the point at which I should have bowed out of the evening, happened just after I kissed her—tentatively at first.

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