Very short post this week because unfortunately I have spent most of the past week in hospital – I’d love to say it was because of a  sexually sustained injury but given my sex life seems to have been sucked into some chastity vortex that would be a lie.

So it’s a quick tale this week.

And due to the popularity of the older woman younger guy scenario I thought I’d introduce you to a young Mr Ho.

As I was closing into thirty and exploring younger flesh I was also branching out and decided I’d like to fuck (or in the very least kiss) my way around the world.

In Australian we refer to the good folk of China, Japan, Malaysia, Taiwan, Singapore and Hong Kong as Asian. I realise in the UK it extends to India, Sri Lanka, Pakistan and so on.

Thus my newest conquest is best described of being of oriental descent. Definitely mixed race because (without being a stereotypical Australian racist) he was well over 6ft. He was awfully posh and came from Oxford but was at 6^th form college; not the university. He was also a rugby player so for someone not on the petite side was physically a good match. Because of his age and athleticism he was also presumably full of stamina.

Once again the teen had to travel to visit me. We’d been communicating online and he seemed confident enough to see me one weekend. Only the Friday night beforehand I started getting my period. Having sex on my period doesn’t bother me, if anything it’s a bit of a turn on and a lot of men feel the same. However someone with minimal experience could find the thought of pumping a bloody vage quite off putting; psychologically traumatizing even.

I texted to let him know the situation; suggesting a reschedule saying I completely understood having never had sex with  a bleeding cunt before he may want to take a rain check. He assured me it would be no problem and he’d be there Saturday afternoon. On reflection I think he didn’t want his bus ticket to go to waste- he probably had to work really long hours at McDonald’s to save up for those babies. No menstruating cougar was gonna put his dick off his game…..or so he thought.

He actually managed to make his way to my flat (my flatmate having cleared off to his boyfriends for the evening) saving me having to meet him at the station and play nanny for the duration of the trip.

I’ve always been into slighter men, but the sheer height of him and the broadness was overwhelming. Coupled with the tones of his skin colour, hairless body and completely defined chest and ripped torso I could barely believe my lust…errr luck. He was like a giant Manga cartoon with brains and an awfully posh accent. There was just one downside with this giant man-boy. He had a very tiny todger. Perhaps had he not been so tall it wouldn’t have been noticeable but it was. It was like a little chipolata. I wanted to wrap it up in bacon and serve it at a dinner party.

Perhaps I should’ve removed the tampon first, perhaps I should’ve trusted my guy instinct and talked him out of attempting sex, but as he pulled my knickers down and I (discretely I thought) removed a tampon his face became very pale. When two fingers slipped into something more than watery warmth, he removed them. Clearly that particular cherry pie was not to his taste. When he looked at his his bloodied fingers I didn’t think he was imagining himself on some massive rock stage with an air guitar singing ‘Sweet Cherry Pie!’

All his good Oxford manners went out the door – he was anything but an English gent.

It was simply a case of his dick going limp and hearing him suddenly overcoming his previous youthful shyness and boldly stating, ‘I’m sorry I can’t do this. I thought I could but I can’t.’

it was pretty brutal on the old ears. I must say and talk about a pink (or rather red) elephant in the room. Although unspoken, the word ‘awkward’ reverberated all around. Unashamedly he clearly had no intention of finding alternate accommodation. Worse still he felt given he’d at least shown willing I could recompense him in some way for his monies and menstruation massacre. So I took the the chipolata and let it flop round my mouth and in all honesty within less than 2 minutes he’d come. He was verbally very grateful – by then he’d found Mr Manners and informed me I gave the best blow job ever. Ever? But that poor excuse for a stout infant-fish had barely had my lips round it before it was spewing man milk in my mouth. The best ever? He mustn’t have had a lot cause I hadn’t even got started – still at that point I needed an ego booster so it wasn’t an unwelcome compliment. Turned out Mr Manners was a passing visitor and he fell asleep immediately so I sneaked into my flatmates covers to feel safe and reel from the indignation and humiliation flung at me by some college teen.

Ever the hospitable host I woke at 6am and put myself back into his bed, all showered and fresh. When he woke to find me there, I confess there was an absence of regret or sensitivity in how he broached the monthly issues of what is considered normal for mature women. Perhaps that was the problem. You go to bed as a mature woman with an immature man you are likely to experience these inwardly excruciatingly undignified moments.

Not Mr Ho though. His first words were, as he put an arm round me and pushed my head to his groin was, ‘That was an amazing blow job last night, the best – do it again for me please before I have to catch my bus.’

I really should have mustered a little courage and backbone and told him to fuck off and learn a little bedroom etiquette or man up and remember not every rugby game was played on a dry pitch – sometimes it rains and gets muddy but you still gotta play the game.

I didn’t though. I had two minutes spare so finished him off. I’m guessing my ‘oh-so-amazing’ micro blow jobs were enough to counteract the mental scarification of seeing his index and middle fingers covered in dark red cervical mucus, vaginal secretions, and endometrial tissue.

A year or so later he was doing an intern-ship at Price Cooper Waterhouse and got in touch (he really must have liked that blow job). He asked if he could visit and knowing there was not a clot of blood in sight and remembering that huge hunky body my resolve weakened and I told him to come round.

And he was a specimen of perfect physical beauty, even his titchy penis was beautiful. His cock hadn’t matured so I could only hope his attitude and technique had.

How wrong I was. It got hard and managed to slip into the entrance of my vagina but it slipped out after cumming within all of two minutes.

‘I seem to have a problem with this,’ was the best he could offer.

I did the thoughtful girly thing and said it was normal and natural and encouraged him that the next time he would last longer and it’s be better and all those platitutdes. Once recovered though he plopped it back inside me and the duration was even shorter than the original encounter.

Did he apologise, offer to take me to dinner, offer to perform oral pleasure on me or offer any physical comfort or stimulus? No – I got a ‘I better drive home now before my aunt and uncle miss the car and wonder where I’ve been.’

With the launch of facebook and having graduated university Mr Ho got in touch with me. By now the boy had become a man. I had a message on facebook saying: ‘I really fucked it up didn’t I? You were so pretty and lovely and kind and I treated you awfully. I’m so sorry. I see your single at the moment and would love to catch up with you. Be my friend?’

Nice boy, but friendship request rejected. Sorry Mr Ho, I’m busy painting the town red!