It seems like I only have sex when I travel.
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I lost my virginity to Matt in my second year of university about 2 weeks after we met. After being told by my female friends that it was excruciating, my first time was totally fine and I felt utterly triumphant afterwards. After that, my relationship with Matt went rapidly downhill and his penchant for being lazy turned him into a terrible boyfriend. The sex itself wasn't bad, although looking back, we were both inexperienced and he wouldn't let me go on top because he was scared I'd break his penis . "It does happen, you know!" After 4 months of missionary and a lot of tears on my part, he broke up with me.
Luke was a sort-of rebound following the emotional implosion of Max. He was a gorgeous Brazilian, older than me and compared to my previous experience, an absolute god in the sack. Trouble is, he wasn't as into it as I was. Naively, I had it in my head that when you were sleeping with someone, it was a relationship. Oh. Dear. I knew from the start that he was moving to Norway, but along the way, I also found out that he had a girlfriend in Russia and that he was going on holiday with her. He is, however, so far the only man to give me an orgasm, which I see as something of an achievement. I also feel that my huge attraction to foreign, older men started here.
After a six-month dry spell, I was in all honesty getting utterly desperate. Moving to Italy for six months seemed like the perfect opportunity. Within two days, my assumption panned out. I met a Turkish Phd student whilst out and the next day we went and sat in the town square and shared a bottle of wine, which would have been terribly romantic if we hadn't had been sitting on the ground. We ended up back at his. After six months of vacancy, my vagina was NOT prepared for the size of his massive penis. He also ruined the evening by trying to force me to have sex without a condom and when I refused, he got angry. Hey, he did help me with my luggage when I moved to a different town a week later, but that was pretty much the one decent thing he did. It was the last I heard of him.
Have you ever had sex with someone purely to release the awkward tension between you? That was Giovanni. He was actually a sweet guy and it was a great chance to practice my Italian, but he didn't seem the brightest. The sex would have been alright if it hadn't had to take place in the back of his rather small car. I lived with a host family and he, like most Italian guys my age, lived with his family. In the same night we nearly got caught by the local police and then once more by another car, presumably looking to do the same thing. I have never seen a guy jump so fast from the back seat into the front seat of a car. Worst Catholic I have ever met in my life.
I met Mark when I came back to the UK for Christmas and stayed with a friend. He was tall, red-haired, charming, intelligent, a musician. He asked to buy me a drink and that was that. We got off on the dance floor of a super grimy club then I went up to see him a couple of times. I had told myself not to sleep with him, to try to extend a period of mystery. I moved to Germany and when I came back to visit, we were both very ill with flu, which wasn't great. It looked like we were going to go to sleep in our sickness stupor, but I couldn't leave and not sleep with him. So, I went for it. I think it is my second worst sexual experience. Foreplay was non-existent, it lasted all of 30 seconds. When I tried to go again, he said, "I just can't. I'm ill".
After the Mark debacle, I was back in Germany and feeling a little lonely. I'd gone online to a kind of Facebook for travelers to try and meet hot guys who would show me around their cities whilst I was abroad, basically. I'd already used it a few times in Italy and always had fun. Cam started messaging me through the site and was very complimentary, so I went over to his for dinner. Dinner somehow turned into (fantastic) sex and I started going over there fairly regularly. The sex was always incredible (maybe too incredible, my muscles would always ache the next day. I'd turn up to work exhausted, pained to sit in my office chair for extended hours). For reasons I can't remember, I stopped seeing him after a while but I'd still receive the occasional booty call.
One weekend my friends and I decided to go on a road trip and one of our stops was Bratislava, the capital of Slovakia. We pre-drank in our hostel dorm where four guys were staying. They were French, Estonian and Spanish. Needless to say, I fancied all of them. We got very drunk at the hostel, then even more drunk on the obscenely cheap vodka at the very grimy club we went to. Next thing I know, I'm bent over in a hostel toilet cubicle with the Spaniard going for it behind me. This would have been simply a pretty low moment, until I hear my friends crashing in and see their hands coming over the wall of the next stall. They began shouting, "We need to see which one it is!" Our male friends came in to usher them out, saying "Just let her have sex, come along now." I remember laughing like a lunatic and Juan looking thoroughly puzzled. This was my number one worst sexual experience, purely because it was in a toilet cubicle. Classy stuff.
Chris and I lived in the same building. Of only fifteen people. Awkward. I thought he was cute, but didn't think anything would come of it. Then one day, the apartment gang ended up not going out, and simply getting drunk in someone's bedroom. Chris spies us through the window on his way back from something, and comes in to join the party. Somewhere along the line, he asks if I want to 'watch some TV' (in my drunken state, I was all up for some German TV! I dutifully watched the TV until he finally made his move. I got a bit too into him and slept with him a couple more times, but I think he got bored. I famously sent him an accidental text that was intended for my friend that went along the lines of "Damn, he didn't want to bang, but it's fine because I'll give it another go tomorrow!" I laugh now but at the time I thought I would never live it down.
This was a mate of one of our German housemates who was staying for the weekend. A little bit creepy, but a very hot fitness trainer and the first guy to say to my face, "I want to have sex with you". Had a cute German accent, was strong enough to pick me up during sex, and enjoyed the dirty talk. The next day, I saw him walking down the road with Chris and his friend so I waved at them very energetically to show how I totally wasn't cringing inside.
A Dutch guy that I met in a club who I genuinely started talking to so he'd protect me from the many, many sleazy guys in the club. He was visiting a friend who worked in the city. We ended up back at this friend's. Him saying, "I really want you" in his Dutch accent totally pushed me over the edge. I had to get him back to mine ASAP and we had some fantastic rough sex.
Alexander was the first guy who I was sort of dating for a long while. He was a really, really sweet guy but he wanted to take a step back because he thought we wouldn't work out. He also had some theory that when your parents divorce, you're more likely to (his parents were going through a divorce at that time). WOAH. I couldn't stand the idea of seeing him just as a friend, so I ended it. Unfortunately, all the times we slept together, it was not ideal– after epic foreplay, he would finish in about 20 seconds, if that, which was something of an anti-climax. Bit of a shame because Part One was always fantastic.
When I told my friends how I met this guy, I was met with shocked faces. I was walking home through the city, still drunk, veggie burger in hand, when a couple of guys come up and start talking to me. This ended up as a half hour debate as to whether or not I would have a threesome with them. In the end, on the basis that I simply couldn't take two men home to my single bed in a shared flat, I only took one with me. I chose the cute, less pushy one, went the four stops on the underground back to my house, and had some surprisingly excellent sex. He had a enormous penis, which I was not expecting, given his tall lanky frame. Only downside was he wouldn't stop talking, and one of his chosen topics was Auschwitz. Not great post-coital chat, mate.
Oscar was the first British guy my age who I'd slept with since…Mark, several men back. I just like the foreigners. He goes to the same uni, and has known my housemate for a good few years. At a club, we got along on the dance floor (to Mr. Brightside by The Killers, I know that much) before going back to his flat. The sex was decent, and he was such a lovely guy–he hung up my clothes. It was all going well until (luckily I was clothed) his mate who was staying for the weekend got into bed with us and started snoring. Knowing full well that there was a spare bedroom going. Who does that? Waking up in the most awkward three-to-a-bed imaginable, I had to do the walk of shame (or triumph, as we are trying to rebrand it) home in the rain, no umbrella, messy hair, and last-night's make up smudged everywhere. I'm sure our paths will cross again.