Child

I had one for the blink of an eye. I dreamt him back into being, after Melissa had the abortion. His name would have been Ben. I hadn’t known a thing about there being a child until a friend told me 9 months after Lissa left. She told me that Lissa had run away so abruptly, because she couldn’t face the fact that I would have wanted to keep him.
So I dreamt him back into being. First the size of a few cells, up to the size of a pea, then I drew motion into him, a tadpole. He grew to a birth of nothingness.
I accelerate past his first Christmas, first few steps; learning to ride a bike, kick a ball in the park. Past his first crush, heartbreaks, accidents and exams. Cast away hobbies and nights on his own, just thinking and listening to music.
I imagined a wife for him, children and then past my own existence, to him telling his grandchildren about me.
So I dreamt him back into being, but he wasn’t back. All I keep thinking is that he ended as a smattering on a toilet bowl and then I start crying again.

Lasagne

“I can cook,” is the catchphrase of every girl who wants a guy genuinely and drastically; it is also the death knell of a relationship. So that was the format of my relationship with Lucy.
We struck up a relationship at the halfway point of my second year at university. She’s my Twerton girl, much to her dismay. I caught her spying on me from across the street while I waited for a bus and when our eyes met she picked up her light feet and breezed over the road toward me, smiling.
We shared a few nights at mine and she lit up that awkward little room with an energy that seemed to linger even after she’d left.
“I can cook,” was a statement that lured me, and my grumbling stomach, over to her house.
After a serving of ‘where our lives will go’ and a portion of ‘I love you’ I didn’t have the appetite for the burnt lasagne.

Touch

It isn’t only men that try to touch young boys old women try as well.
Having chosen to read a book recommended by Mrs. Snow I was nestled in the crook of one of the old leather chairs near the religious texts where no one much went, and where at least three inches of dust and a dash of cobwebs had formed. I’d gotten up to a typically Mills and Boon milestone in my book, the main character’s first kiss. From that moment my passion for such books was ignited, perhaps Mrs. Snow knew I had the heart of a romantic, who knows?
I’m greeted by a wrinkled face peering down at me and I recognise it, it is Mrs Snow. Her friendly demeanour had dipped and she asked if she could sit down on the chair next to me. I told her should could. Next thing and her crumpled hand is clutching my cock. She hurt me at first, which I can only assume was down to a mixture of excitement and fear. She relaxed her grip, rubbed my crotch and responded to my involuntary erection with a smile, before standing up and walking away.

Shipping

I used to watch a friend get fucked against a shipping container. Whatever boyfriend she happened to be with would unzip while she took down her panties. Then they’d lift her, so that her legs could wrap around their hips, then they’d pound her into the side of the large metal wall. Until they came, and she was lowered to the floor.
I’d sometimes not be able to watch and would close my eyes and measure time by the beating of her spine. I was convinced that I loved her, and that this was slow torture.

Joint

Met her in Porter. I’m reading Philip Larkin and she asks me what I’m reading, so I tell her “only the best poet who ever lived.”
“Oh,” she replies, “Keats?”
“Nope.” I say, trying my best to avoid telling a cute girl that her taste in poetry is flawed. “Larkin.” I say finally.
She’s a brunette with long hair and a white and red striped top. She’s got small breasts and a smile that says yes. She’s the kind of girl that you can throw about in the sack. And I did.
We smoked a joint and fucked for an hour, then she grabbed my cock and jerked and sucked me till I came in her face and she fell back on the bed, giggling.

Jerk

I’m horny, so I call my then partner Lissa. She tells me to come over. So I do. The week before she comes over in nothing but underwear and a coat over the top. So I go one better. No underwear, no coat.
I walk over to her house, it is cold, and I’m butt naked for the whole 20min walk. And I must stress I did walk. Ok, I had to jerk a bit of life into the ‘little guy’ before I rang the doorbell, but the second she saw me she called me a “cute little bugger” and grabbed my arm to pull my “cute little tush” inside.

Lissa

So I miss the bitch and can’t stop thinking about the night of the photo shoot. Almost the best fuck ever. Second best if I’m honest. Sexy, extravagant, outrageous.
I want sex like that – no guilt. Let someone else worry. Let me suck and lick and scratch and bite and fuck and let me fall in love, like that, again.

Wallflower

I always imagine myself ending up with a complete wallflower. The kind with inch-thick specs and all the social grace of a cockroach. I don’t want it to be like that, but readers tend to develop the need for glasses at some stage and readers tend to be reserved. I always saw myself with a reader, so it goes with the territory.
I see her having cats and long straight dark brown hair with split ends. She’d be eager in the bedroom and often quite over-enthused. Our kids would be bullied because she’d make them banana sandwiches and call them Kingsly and Star. I wouldn’t be able to stop her and would probably be the first to die; with a full head of grey hair and inch-thick glasses.
I don’t want to be with a wallflower, but it seems realistic. Beautiful women like bad guys, and I’m never going to be a bad guy, I’m just nice. Nice guys finish last, get wallflowers and live in the suburbs, gardening at the weekends and reading the Times.

Virginity

14 and I’m on the top bunk of my sofa-bed with my first girlfriend Amy. We’d been going out two weeks and she’d already tried to have sex with me on the dining room floor of a friend’s house, during a party. I had said no.
Taking off our own clothes we kiss a little and my leg touches her’s, it’s cold. I pull the covers over us. We kiss some more and I put on a condom. I enter her and it is like no feeling I have felt before. I thought it would be better.
It is over within a few moments and she sits up and looks over the side of the bed. Below us there is giggling as Amy asks for her clothes back. I wanted to wait and lose my virginity in a romantic way. Instead I lost it with 5 of my friends on the futon below. I’ve always regretted it, but tell people as though I am proud.

Stalked

Stalked from the Oxfam bookshop to the canal I couldn’t help but feel special when she introduced herself. Her name was Jenny and she had seen me and needed to tell me that she liked me and wanted to get to know me. I was flattered.
She was a sweet little creature with dark brown hair and the same colour eyes as my mother. When we kissed she hardly used her tongue and it was difficult to engage her. When we had sex she wanted to be thrown about.
A week later I was happy and decided to start going out with her. Two weeks after that and I decided that it was time to finish with her.

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