Sex With The Friend

There’s the story with The friend, there’s the 3 OkCupid dates and there’s the breakup. I need to get all of them off my chest but none of them are proving easy.

Just in case anyone was on tenterhooks after last week (relax I know no one was) I might as well start with The Friend.

He arrived in the afternoon to some absolutely miserable weather, this was fine though my plans involved mostly doing an old-man-pub crawl. He dumped his bag and we jumped in a cab.

All going well, we have 3 drinks and then I have a tiny bit of culture/tourism for us. This also goes well and it seems to be a good choice (I would detail it here but I’m actually kind of proud of the day I structured and I’d hate to bust it out as a slick move for someone else only for them to read this and to think I hadn’t thought about it especially for them – I said that as if I intend to reveal my alter ego to any and all future partners? when the truth is I hope to never reveal it again – but I digress)

After the culture we head for old-man-pub number two. The place is atmospherically busy but not jammers, perfect. We get a seat at the bar just as the rugby comes on, this is fortuitous. We both love rugby but our interest in this particular game might be only to hope the front runners might get beaten.


We chat, we giggle and we keep one eye on the rugby. It’s easy. There isn’t one second of awkwardness. I’m pretty sure everyone is having a good time. And all of a sudden it’s time for dinner, almost before I know it. So we shuffle off our high stools and saunter round the corner to the place I have in mind. I love this place, it’s one of not only my favourite restaurants in Dublin but one of my favourite places. It’s high stakes bringing him here. But if I’m going to do this I’m going to do it right.

We get seated straight away – unfathomable – and get busy ordering cocktails. And it’s round about here that I think he kisses me for the first time. I say that because so much drinking happened before and after that I can’t quite pin point it. So for the sake of argument let us just say that he kissed me in the restaurant. It was natural, it was easy and it took me by surprise.

The meal is spectacular, the booze is phenomenal. I’m having such a good time I could be oblivious to how his night is going  – which I say to him. He laughs his head off and assures me that he is perfectly content and all standards of expectations have been met and surpassed.

Next up, another old-man-pub and to meet my sister and her husband. They know The Friend, have met him once or twice – this is still all good going so we have (possibly) two more drinks and then we head to the last thing that I had organised for us. (Once again I’m not going to share it – just in case but suffice it to say that we can procure booze here)

More booze is probably a mistake. We’ve been at it all day, and we’ve had some pretty heavy cocktails that no amount of food is going to soak up. But nothing disastrous happens and somehow I manage to get us home (Read: he probably got us in a cab and I miraculously remembered my address)


Home, to my house. I am blind drunk and way too nervous to start anything with someone new. Or maybe I just didn’t want to find out at that point if we weren’t compatible…. Or maybe I was just really tired? I don’t know but it’s a tiny bit not like me. Actually it’s wholly unlike me.


We wake early-ish the next day and the spooning starts, I’m good with this as I’m entirely physically comfortable with him at this point. I get us some water and then wait….


And wait.


And wait.


I am getting no signs at all. I definitely want some sex, in fact I am starving for it. Am I nervous? Yes, but I’m still up for it.

What I was hoping for was that the spooning would turn into him tugging my knickers down, licking two fingers, pushing them inside me for a few seconds before replacing them with his cock. And then giving me a good, quick, hard, let’s-scratch-that-itch fuck – and we could have gotten round to the finesse of the thing later.

But I’m sure you can tell from the disappointment dripping out of the keyboard that that’s not what happened.


Here I am, horny as hell, still in last night’s underwear (which by the way is VERY lovely. Not a comment) and we’re both spooning with no overt advances from him at all. So I can’t tell if he’s still a bit sleepy and maybe not up for it yet?

I give it a while. Ask how he feels; fine apparently. Does he need water; no he has some.

What’s left…?


We’re back to spooning and there are some tiny, almost imperceptible kisses on my shoulder and neck. But … they’re so tentative, they aren’t really doing anything for me. It’s as if he’s afraid of my skin or doesn’t want to get at it properly. I want to give him the benefit of the doubt and don’t want to scare him off because I am really in the mood for some sex.

Still spooning, me as the little spoon, I reach back and stroke his thighs – he has amazing thighs as he runs a lot. I mention how much I like them, and squeeze them and try to pull him in closer to me. The aim being to feel some hardness behind me so that I know if I should be more assertive… because there’s always the possibility that he doesn’t know what I want or thinks he needs to go slower (imagine).


Unfortunately this goes on for ages and we make no progress. I’m getting equally frustrated and snoozy from the lack of action. When finally his hand grazes the top of my underwear and I take it as a green light and decide to get this show on the road. I turn back towards him and find that he is actually hard – hurrah! And there’s no way I’m doing anything other than getting that in my mouth.

He thankfully has a lovely cock and I am thrilled that we seem to have gone from 0-60 finally.

I pull out my best moves – trying to see what’s preferred but I’m hearing nothing. No words of encouragement, – or hands in my hair, no grunts, moans, deep sighs or even heaving breathing. I’m sure as hell getting turned on, I have a hard dick in my mouth and it’s thick and even. But I need some form of feedback from him – is he turned on? Is he enjoying any of this?

I can’t tell. The only thing I know is that he is mercifully staying hard.

Ok, let’s lighten the mood. I look up at him and I smile and I mention that I’m delighted to see that his man garden is neat. He says something perfunctory. I go back to sucking him, again running through the repertoire hoping I’ll get something. I go for the fail safe; I deep throat it so that I get loads of spit, then get his shaft super wet. (not an easy task with a hungover dry mouth and a slightly nauseous tummy) Once it’s nice and wet, I wrap my thumb and forefinger around the shaft right up by my lips and I work them up and down in unison. Keeping the ring I’ve made with my thumb and finger always tight against my lips. I KNOW this feels amazing, I know it’s good technique. It was taught to me by a guy and it has never not gotten at least a grunt. Usually it gets a ‘Fuck that feels good’ or ‘Good girl, that’s exactly how I want it’ but mostly it gets ‘Dunno what you were doing with that blow job earlier but it was great’.

I have to try more. I get the length wet again, more deep throating – I know, I’m a trooper – and with one hand still on it working it with my mouth, I rub my spit down his balls and rub it in, and then underneath. Then I move down his balls with my tongue til I can take one in my mouth, then the other. All the while working his cock with my hand.

Nothing. But still hard.


But you know, you can be the sweetest, plumpest, juiciest peach in the world but there will always be that one person who doesn’t like peaches.

I guess he didn’t like peaches.



I’d love to tell you that it got better from there, but it didn’t. I’m not an idiot and if he doesn’t like peaches then we might as well get going on something else. So again I pop my head up and as sexily as I can I say to him I can’t tell if he’s enjoying anything I’m doing. He says that he is but that he wasn’t going to come from it. I tell him that I wasn’t trying to make him come it was only the start but why don’t we do something else. And it’s at this point that he goes down on me.

Now I’m not sure I’ve ever had anyone eat me in such a way that made me so utterly convinced that they didn’t want to be doing it. But I let that go on for a while, until I stop him and get him to kiss me, just on the off chance that I taste bad. When I know I don’t I can smell myself and I smell amazing, which is confirmed when I kiss him.



I’m not going to detail the actual sex. I think we all know it was an anti-climax. I would like to think not due to a lack of effort on my part. But whatever it was due to, I haven’t as yet been able to figure it out.



We still had a great time. We had the whole of Sunday and Sunday night together and none of it was weird. It was all lovely and fun. I know that’s hard to believe but it was. And I’m left with the overwhelming feeling that I now know what it’s like to be in a fucking great relationship, just not literally.




I don’t think our friendship is ruined either. I think we’ll be fine.

But god, if it hasn’t all made me a little sad this week. Dating is excruciating, I can’t even bring myself to type the OkCupid dates – not cos they were terrible but because all they did was amplify how bad I feel that I’m back to square one again. And just how much I liked that stupid English idiot.

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