I was reminiscing over the last few weeks and I really couldn’t bring myself to continue speaking to any more matches. I had exhausted all my efforts and the thought of being single forever seemed to be more appealing than having to live with men who sniff your underwear or spunk on your clothes when you turn your back. Do all men have hidden fantasies? Perhaps I’m the abnormal one who believes this behavior is weird. Maybe I am setting a bar so high that it is impossible to reach, I was thinking. Having not pursued any conversations with the opposite sex for the entire week felt lonelier than I had imagined. I was becoming accustomed to hearing a familiar ping from dating app’s but no longer feeling my heart race or the sudden gush of excitement when you receive a cute text or better yet an unexpected dick pic. I was giving up on dating, love, and hope of ever meeting an eligible man in this City.

My friends and I were arranging a night out and I was looking forward to spending time in my local pub with familiar faces and good banter. I began to get ready that night looking casual and feeling relaxed with some high waisted jeans and a nice shirt. It was good to get ready without any expectations of how someone was about to judge you. The past few weeks I was obsessing over how big my tits looked in a top or if my camel toe was really that noticeable. It felt great to socialize with my friends in an environment that we could get shit faced and being ourselves was enough. We gathered in our local dive and after a few shots, my friends and I were dancing to some nineties R&B along with half the pub. We were sat next to a group of guys I went to high school with and the more shots I was downing, the more I was realising that the local boys were aging particularly well. One hottie noticeably caught my eye and he was smiling over, damn, he was as muscley as Arnie and as soon as I clocked him my friends knew he was my mission of the night. I immaturely began to walk past him “unintentionally” for the rest of the night, I was strutting my stuff like Beyonce doing my best rendition of the “Crazy in Love” video, as the more alcohol I was consuming the more I stalked his every move and I couldn’t help but long for my Scottish Jay Z to fill me up with his lemonade. I saw him head outside and I knew this would be my only chance to speak to him alone. I followed him out pretending to be on my phone,

“Yeah, yeah that’s fine, right bye, bye”.

I fake chatted for a few seconds then placed the phone back in my back pocket pretending to have no idea I wasn’t alone and slowly attempted to head back towards the pub entrance when he shouted on me over.

“Hey, I recognize you from school” he shouted.

I paused and smiled back, “Do you?” I replied. I played it remarkably cool whilst keeping good eye contact for a while before continuing to head back towards the door.

“Here do you smoke?” He offered me half a lit cigarette and I walked over thinking, no I hate the horrible, life-limiting habit but… when God gives you a sign you fucking take it.

“Oh, yeah I do, thanks” I took the cigarette off him and began puffing away becoming more light-headed by the second. We began chatting and he was giving me so many compliments of how good I looked and how he regularly follows my social media all the while I was concentrating so hard to look interesting and not to vomit with the smoke fuelled cloud which encircled us. He began leaning in towards me stroking my face, OH YES! I hadn’t even finished my cigarette so tossed it to the side and we began locking lips outside my local dump. We started kissing and although all I could taste was smoke and nicotine, I began enjoying it more than I thought I would. Fucking hell, maybe it’s a local kissing thing we have going on here because we were in sync! After a few minutes it became more and more heated, he was teasing me with his tongue as if he was licking my fanny and I was stunned. I giggled as he pressed his body against mine, regrettably knowing this had to stop as we were just off the main road and insight of the late-night passer by’s.

“We better stop”. I managed to whisper through a gap in my over tongue filled mouth, he smiled and picked me up from the arse and began walking with me, heading behind the pub into the car park.

What was he doing? I thought. I can’t have sex in a car park, I’ll lose my job. He was so fucking hot though. My heart was pounding, my clit was pounding and all I craved was a good fucking pounding. He continued to walk with me and sat me on top of a random car bonnet. I pulled away and said,

“We better go back in”.

He refused to listen and began kissing again pushing my back against the bonnet until I was starfished with him on top of me on some cunt’s poor Astra. I couldn’t help but panic that I was about to leave a massive dent in the car and started to acknowledge the cameras in the car park. I had visions of my orgasm face being printed on the front page of the local paper for my mum to see.

“Is that what you want?” He replied whispering in my ear.

Holy fuck, it wasn’t. I knew what I wanted, and it certainly wasn’t to return to my friends in the pub. We kissed on top of the car for a while, he began touching and biting my boobs and I just lay there allowing this to happen in the middle of a busy car park, in a town where we both grew up. He started to rub my fanny through my jeans and it was all too much.

“Let’s go somewhere else,” I said.

He immediately grabbed my hand and pulled me to the taxi rank – flagged down a taxi and headed home to his house giggling and kissing the entire journey.

We entered his home and we couldn’t keep our hands off one another. I was so glad I had completed my deforestation and didn’t have the same problem as a few days prior. We began kissing and he started to strip me whilst walking upstairs, I felt so sexy and I couldn’t believe how quickly my luck had changed. He was standing staring at my naked body, just admiring it, biting his bottom lip quite creepily but I didn’t actually care if a stare was the only quirk I had to deal with tonight then I could put up with that.

We entered his bedroom and immediately started to have sex, he was so attentive to my needs. The sex was good and nice – not the usual dirty rough sex I was growing accustomed too. We eventually fell asleep wrapped in one another’s arms and I woke up in the morning feeling wet, sticky and realising that I hadn’t even told my friends where I was.

He lay there fast asleep whilst I stared at the stranger beside me. He was undoubtedly hot but that’s all I knew about him besides his name and how good he was at football fifteen years prior. I began to get a little restless and he woke up and smiled.

“Morning gorgeous” he yawned.

“Morning! …….Oh god, I’m so embarrassed I ended up here last night, I honestly never do things like this.” I lied. I was becoming such a professional shagger I was contemplating getting paid for it.

“I’m glad you did!”

He rolled over towards me and started kissing and licking up my arms. It felt good, really fucking good. He was slowly disappearing under the duvet and I was cringing at what I was anticipating him to do. I already felt dirty and unwashed but as much as I wanted to tell him to stop I couldn’t. I was felt so self-conscious soberly accepting a lick out but after the first lick my rigid legs relxed and I felt him slowly licking and kissing up my legs. My fanny was throbbing at his tongue teasing. And then… he began licking and slurping every fold, he was eating me like he was going to the electric chair and it felt fucking amazing. I have never had a lick out come near it since the time I was in my teens and my then-boyfriend was trying out his new vibrating tongue bar he bought for a tenner at the forge market! I was soaking! My legs began jerking so much I questioned if I was having some sort of fit… I was like shakey stevens squealing out in his bedroom clutching his sexy blonde hair with my hands which just encouraged him to keep going…

“OH MY GOD! DONT STOP…DONT STOP…AHHHHH!”

Suddenly, my soaking wet vagina let out an almighty noise! The acoustic’s were extremely loud as I had been getting filled most of the night and my massive vagina let out the biggest fanny fart that echoed throughout the room. I jumped and he jumped up, his face popped out the covers in a confusion all wet and shiny as he shouted;

“What the fuck was that?”

I didn’t know if he was being genuine or not and I felt too embarrassed to explain, my heart raced and the only sensible option was for me to play dumb.

“What was what?” I asked.

He knelt up in the bed, opened the window, which was just above his head and said,

“Did you not hear that? …. I think a bird flew into that window.”

Holy fuck I had got away with it. My vaginal sounds were just compared to a dead pigeon but as long as I got away with it I didn’t care. I lay there terrified to move and had to be extra noisy just incase my vagina began to shout at him again unexpectedly. When I left his house I couldn’t stop laughing. I had the funniest, sexiest, most unexpected night ever but it helped me realise I didn’t need to online date to get a man…I could still pull. My confidence was returning and although I was tempted to delete all my dating apps for a second, I opened them one last time and began checking up on my week’s worth of matches. He must be out there somewhere, right?