Magda Crossley was seventeen years old when she discovered she could give herself an orgasm. She could remember it as if it had only happened yesterday when, in fact, over eleven years had passed.
It had been a Friday night, and she’d been hanging out down by the harbour with the usual faces. She and Sophia had spent the night laughing and joking together while the lads had messed about just ahead of them, tackling each other and sharing cigarettes in a tipsy daze. Once the night had drawn to a close, Magda had stumbled through the short walk home and tumbled into bed. On a drunken whim, she’d decided to experiment with her body.
The bedroom walls had spun as the cheap and colourful alcohol they’d all nabbed from their parents’ drinks cupboards rushed through her veins. Perhaps if she’d had no alcohol in her system, the discovery would never have been made, but in that moment of confidence and curiosity, Magda’s world suddenly took on a brand-new meaning. They’d done sex education in school, and they’d covered masturbation while she and the other girls sniggered behind their hands, but Magda had never been tempted to find out more until that night.
The discovery of the orgasm and how it could make Magda feel was a revelation. In her mind, if a woman was capable of providing herself with such pleasure, then what the hell did she need a man for? The physical power she suddenly held over herself was indestructible and it gave her a completely new persona. No longer had she been the shy and timid one of the group. She became the most confident. The most brazen. The one the other girls began to look up to. They had no idea what had sparked off this new side to their friend, but they liked it, and so did Magda. She knew no male could give her anything she couldn’t give herself and it made her feel ten feet tall.
Afterwards, jelly-legged, with her knickers around her ankles, she’d gazed at her bedroom ceiling in the darkness and wondered why on earth she’d spent so much of her teenage life lusting after Tom Archer. All the local girls had a thing for him. It had been something of a trend back then, to have a crush on Tom. If you didn’t, there was obviously something wrong with you. It was sad really, especially for Tom’s mates, because none of them ever got a look in. They were gangly and immature compared to their leader, who seemed to ooze confidence, intelligence and sexiness.
A deep grunt brought Magda from out of her memories and back into the present day. Remembering where she was and what she was doing, she risked a quick glance at the head bobbing up and down between her legs and shifted slightly on the upholstered chaise longue. As grand and luxurious as the hotel room and its furnishings were, she was beginning to get uncomfortable, and couldn’t help but wonder how much longer he was going to be.
The thing was, he wasn’t really in the right area. The poor man was licking at an ineffective part of her woo-woo but seemed to think he was the bee’s knees, putting his heart and soul into it. Really going for it. But alas, with his frantically roaming tongue nowhere near her clitoris, it was barely having an effect at all. He’d been down there for quite some time now, and due to her lack of enjoyment and inability to focus, her mind had wandered, resulting in her not being in the mood for a sexy time at all.
Not that she’d even been in the mood in the first place, not even when she’d settled in the bar downstairs in her tight red dress with the hem deliberately raised, showing off plenty of thigh. He’d practically been salivating when he’d arrived and the realisation that she was the face behind username DevilishlyDaring123 had dawned. He hadn’t been able to believe his sheer luck, and she knew he hadn’t been expecting someone like her. It might have sounded vain but it was true. She was a sexy woman, she wasn’t going to deny it, and she enjoyed seeing men appreciate that. It hadn’t taken long for her to persuade him up to the room, and it hadn’t taken long for her to tempt him out of his clothes either. He’d stripped himself down and made a move almost as soon as they’d stepped through the door.
She stared in boredom at the ceiling as the barrage on her vagina continued down below, and managed to muster up a few groans and moans of desire that she hoped sounded more genuine than they were. She forced her eyes shut, and at the same time tried to force herself to focus on the moment, to catch and roll with the sensations, but it was no use. He clearly didn’t have a bloody clue what he was doing, and Magda was one hundred per cent confident she could do a better job herself. Maybe she should have drawn him a diagram before they’d got down to the nitty-gritty, to show him what was what beforehand. If anything, whatever he was trying to achieve down there had become an annoyance rather than a pleasure. She didn’t have the heart to tell him to stop though. He’d seemed so confident downstairs in the bar. This was a real, true-to-life example of a man who could talk the talk but not walk the walk. It didn’t take long for Magda to decide she was going to fake it, just like everything else in her life, mostly in the hope that doing so would make his departure arrive faster, and that wasn’t a euphemism. She was tired of his presence now.
The evening hadn’t made her feel any better about herself, which was what she’d originally been hoping for. It had been the same with the others too. It occurred to her then that she sounded like the kind of woman she had once upon a time despised. One of those women who found themselves unable to stick to just the one man. But there was a story behind it all, a reason for her actions. A pathetic one but one which existed all the same. Like a serial killer had a motive, she had one too, although she wasn’t planning to murder this man. God, no! She simply wanted him to get off her vagina, get dressed and leave.
‘Oh yes,’ she hissed. Magda spread her legs further apart and gritted her teeth. ‘Keep going. I’m so close now. Don’t stop.’ She performed perfectly, ensuring her voice held the right amount of breathlessness that desire often evoked. Sadly, desire had completely left the building. Magda was half tempted to get up, go to the window and wave goodbye to desire as it hopped in its car to race as far away from this place as possible. ‘I am so close.’ She writhed a little as she ran fingers through hair, tugging and tightening her grip. Her acting had the desired effect and, with added gusto, he worked harder and faster, his tongue flicking manically (again, in the wrong place).
Unable to take it a second longer, Magda arched her back and let out a scream of desire. She opened her mouth wide as the animalistic sound came flooding out and filled the room. She tugged harder on his hair and then rolled her body as if the sensations were crashing over her. She was even able to make
