Sex in The Cam – Week 6
This week in SEX IN THE CAM, our mystery woman finds pleasure and pain in unexpected places
Last week I was introduced to a guy by a mutual friend. We chatted, we danced and, at the end of the night, he asked me out. He was, to put it politely, a jock, and he needed a date to a Hawks event. Not being the kind of person who is above average in hitting things with my appendages or with other things, or who hangs out with people who are, I was quite keen to get an opportunity to give Hawks a go. And this guy seemed… sweet. Definitely fit, and confident. But mainly he seemed sweet.
The event was alright: Jock and I talked, drank, laughed and occasionally mingled with other Jocks. It was all good clean fun, though to be honest we could’ve had the same time anywhere: the Eagle, Cindies smoking area, Gardies… But I had fun, and I sure as Hell fancied him, so when he offered me a nightcap at his of course I said yes.
Before long we were on his bed making out. Undressing revealed a beautifully sculpted jock chest; I smiled to myself. Foreplay progressed in the usual way until I suggested he put on a condom. Instead, to my surprise, he started kissing my body, moving progressively lower until he was perfectly positioned between my legs and licking me out. Head on the first date! I couldn’t believe it – had I lucked out or what?
Turns out the answer to that question was ‘what’: it quickly became apparent that he didn’t have a clue. I usually love head (and it’s a shame not all women feel the same: to be honest, I think that the phrase “not all women enjoy cunnillingus” can be translated to “not all women have received good cunnilingus”), but this guy was making an absolute mess of it, and not in a good way. I’ve often heard guys bitch about girls using teeth during head, but it’s a two-way street: this guy was using my clitoris like it was a piece of invasive dental equipment.
Needless to say I stopped this anti-foreplay before I became irreparably turned off and told him to go back to plan A and get a condom. Sex ensued and almost immediately I realised something had gone wrong. He’d gone soft, but the real disaster was that he was desperately trying to hide it. (We always know). I asked him if he was alright and he responded with those three awful words that reveal the inexperienced little lamb behind the sexy, confident wolf mask: “I already came”. I guess he went down on me in the vain hope of prolonging his pre-premature ejaculation.
The next day, after a night of very little sleep in a very cold room and a very bad fuck, I made the early morning walk of shame. I spent much of the day sleeping, only starting to do anything useful at about four o’clock. But when my friends came knocking with wine and basics vodka I thought fuck it! I knew the best way to forget about the whole fiasco was to get plastered.
Sometime around my third jagerbomb in one of the clubs (is there any real difference?) a fourth year in my college manoeuvred me to the edge of the room and kissed me. There’d been a low level of flirtation over the last couple of weeks (he was newly single) and I was pleased to see that things went up to eleven. I didn’t know him very well, but I knew he was tall, blonde and fit. I also knew that gossip travels around college like chlamydia and I wasn’t keen on my sexploits becoming un-anonymous.
So I told him, “if you promise not to tell anyone about this, you can come back to mine now.” And that’s just what he did. We left separately to keep suspicions low (his idea, nice touch). When I got back to mine I started to wonder if he was going to show. How long should I wait? But after a while I heard a knock and there he was. I barely said hi before he kissed me hard. Grabbing me under my arse, he picked me up, carried me to my bed and threw me up against the wall next to it – sending paintings askew.
We undressed each other, fast but skilfully, and then much to my surprise it happened again: he started going down on me. Two guys in two nights is unusual but not unheard of. Two guys giving me head in two nights is some kind of sexual equivalent of a double lightning strike. But unlike the previous night’s washout, this guy knew what he was doing: kissing and licking me, massaging me with near-perfect rhythm and pressure. I had to cling to my mattress to stop myself squirming with that kind of pleasure that’s almost unbearable. And, of course, the sex was great, every motion strong and controlled.
To my duvet-greedy delight he didn’t stay the night. As he was getting dressed I jokily said we should do this again sometime, but I don’t really expect a repeat. In terms of a ‘lesson’ of some kind, take it from your junior school code of conduct: treat others’ sexy parts as you would like your sexy parts to be treated.