Sex and Submission Selections Four by Oya

Author:Oya
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Headline
Published: 2010-02-15T00:00:00+00:00

Vanilla

by Jade Taylor

I’d never been one to believe that sex was necessarily better with people you were in love with.

Sure, the idea was nice, and there was a little bit of the hopeful romantic even in me that hoped it was true. But I was also practical enough to know that you could have mind-blowing sex with people you weren’t madly in love with, or people you didn’t even like that much.

Great sex doesn’t have to make sense.

But I couldn’t understand why, when I finally found someone I liked beyond breakfast, the sex wasn’t knocking my socks off.

It wasn’t fair.

He was just a little vanilla for my tastes.

I was mad on Shaun, I admit it, could have let myself go plunging head over heels for him, but I’d always had that wild streak, that little kink, that stopped me letting go.

That little bit of me saying that I’d get bored, that if we stuck together sooner or later I’d be looking for more adventurous partners (and probably breaking his heart in the process), the part of me that said I’d be doing what I always swore I wouldn’t: settling.

My ideal man meant ideal sex.

Sure, he knew what he was doing, could work his way through the usual repertoire with no problems, could follow instructions and make me come easy enough, but that was all.

Maybe that was the problem – the usual repertoire.

I usually preferred something a little different.

He was a little too technical, always seeming to hold something back, no fire, no passion, no unique selling point that made me think, hey, this one’s really good.

So there we are, three months down the line, on a dirty weekend in Amsterdam that really wasn’t that dirty.

We weren’t doing drugs, weren’t getting high and having giggly sex, weren’t exploring the red light district, weren’t taking the seediness of the city and twisting it into our own sexual fantasies.

The most excitement we’d had so far was spotting a man smoking in the Van Gogh museum and his subsequent eviction.

Maybe it was shyness, I thought, trying to give him the benefit of the doubt. He was so funny, so cute, I liked him.

But I was getting frustrated.

Maybe there was an animal hidden deep inside just waiting to be released, but right then I was too irritable to care.

Sometimes a girl just needs a good fuck and shyness be damned.

I was fed up of fucking men I didn’t like, then finding a man I liked that I didn’t like fucking enough.

It was so hot, and although I would have loved to sit down in an air-conditioned bar or coffee shop, football fever seemed to be sweeping the city. I had always hated football, not even the sight of fit men in shorts being able to sway my opinion, and knew I wouldn’t be able to tolerate football supporters as they grew louder as they got drunk or high.

My idea of fun was more cuffs and code-words than watching men chasing a ball for ninety minutes.

Then we saw the Torture Museum.

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