I was an aspiring rock star in London. Aspiring, you see. That means still trying, not having accepted defeat yet. I had a full-time job in an off-licence in south-west London, but my band did gigs once a week or so. There was a pub right on the river and we played in the basement.

It must have been May or around that time. It was the weekend of the Rugby League Cup Final between two teams from the north of England. We didn’t usually attract much of a crowd, so that Saturday night when there was a group of girls we’d never seen before, we definitely noticed.

They were all from Yorkshire, down in the Smoke for the match and intent on having a good time away from prying eyes.

You often hear people say the only reason they became a musician was to pull girls, and I must admit it helps. Even at a very lowly local level, your chances increase dramatically if you can be seen on stage wielding a guitar or a mic or even the less phallic instruments.

These northern girls had started their revelry before they even arrived, so when we got talking to them during the break, they were buying us drinks as fast as we bought some for them.

The second set went really well because they were screaming and shouting and dancing, so I felt less of a fraud than usual as I played my clumsy guitar and yelled too loud into my Shure SM57.

When it was over, we consolidated our position with the girls and I invited them to my flat, which was not only just around the corner but which had spare rooms because people had recently moved out.

And so it was that bass player Tim, non-band member Bobby and I found ourselves in my room with four girls. Four fairly good-looking, well-oiled girls looking for a good time.

We were drinking cheap red wine and smoking grass, of which the girls had little experience, but they liked it once they dared try.

Tall, dark-haired Karen gravitated towards me and soon we were all over each other. Tim was with Samantha and Bobby had disappeared. We found him in the small lounge at the front, unaccountably not interested in cashing in on this windfall of women.

The two unclaimed girls made a vain attempt to rouse him before giving up and heading for the downstairs bedroom. Tim took his girl to the back bedroom and Karen and I were alone in my lair, as slightly tipsy men and women have been for centuries. We kissed harder and more passionately now that we were unobserved and her hand slid into my jeans.

“Fook,” she said. “You’re a big ‘un, aren’t ya?” That’s my attempt to convey a Yorkshire accent.

She had a boyfriend back home but didn’t seem to like him much and certainly wasn’t saving herself. Uninvited, she pulled my jeans down and off before kneeling and sucking my cock with more enthusiasm than skill.

“You know what I could do with?” she asked. “I could murder a cup of tea.”

“Okay,” I said, pulling my underpants back on and confident that we could resume the festivities later. “Don’t go away.” To confirm ownership, I pulled a braless breast out and licked the nipple, then ran a finger along her slit for emphasis.

“You gonna fookin’ eat me after?” she said.

“I fuckin’ am,” I replied before leaving the room.

Downstairs I found one of the spare girls in the kitchen, boiling the kettle.

“I’ll mek it for ya,” she said helpfully.

I peeped into the bedroom and there was Sandie, standing on the mattress on the floor, wobbling and apparently pretending she was on a trampoline.

I entered and she just looked at me blankly.

“Get bored, did ya?” she drawled. “She’s got a fookin’ fiancée, you know.”

I stood on the mattress and wobbled with her.

“It’s fookin’ disgoostin’” she continued. “Bloody tart.” And then she put her arms around my neck.

“You only want a shag, don’t yer?” she said. “Why don’t ya find someone unattached?”

“Like who?”

“Like me,” she said. “I’m sweet and innocent. I know I’ve got a mooky gob, but I’m what’s known as a nice girl.”

We clung together in a kiss, swaying dangerously before sitting and then lying down.

Without further ado, I began undressing her and she began resisting.

“You can’t get inside me,” she warned.

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to ‘ave a baby.”

I wasn’t used to this at all. Most of the girls at that time were on the pill and condoms weren’t fashionable.

“You ‘aven’t got any johnnies, ‘ave yer?” she sort of sneered. “No, I thought not.”

“You can give me a blow job,” I offered.

“No,” she said bluntly.

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to,” she said and paused to gauge my reaction before continuing. “Look, I’ve never done it before and I don’t intend to start now,”

Just then the door opened and Karen, my girl upstairs, appeared.

“What the fook are you two doing?” she snapped.

“Just waiting for the kettle to boil,” I explained.

“Well, you can wait upstairs with me,” she said, trying to save face without losing what he had been looking forward to.

We walked in silence back to my room and she closed the door, she being the proprietor of this sexual encounter. She smiled wryly.

“I’ll give yer a fookin’ blowjob,” she said. “Drop yer kecks and fookin’ lie on the bed.”

I undressed quickly in case she too was playing a game and about to change her mind. But no, she wrenched her top off and gave me a big flash of her tits before dispensing with her jeans and pants and showing me a big, bushy black beard.

Karen straddled me in a sixty-nine position and slammed her crotch down on my face before grabbing my cock and stuffing it into her mouth.

“I suppose you want to cum in my mouth,” she said in a tone intended to sound bitter. “Well, I suppose that’ll make the second lot safer – if you’re up to a second lot.”

I didn’t follow her logic, but it seemed the sex education in her part of the world was rather suspect and she thought semen was less sperm-laden if a man had recently ejected a load.

“Here’s the arrangement,” she said calming down. “You can cum in my mouth if you lick my fookin’ arse. Okay?”

I demurred. She repeated.

“Okay?”

I grunted. She wasn’t to know that I would have willingly rimmed her, but it wasn’t as popular then as it is now. As it was, she gave me her crack as best she could and I could tell she loved it when my tongue obligingly explored it. She began to wriggle and mutter and as she came, she wanked me brilliantly into her mouth. No girl had ever performed that tricky act so perfectly.

At that point, she changed completely. Turning to lie with me, she became soft, fluffy and affectionate, stroking my back and whispering to me.

“You’re a nice fella,” she said. “I can tell you’re nice. I knew when I first saw you on stage. I knew you wanted a fuck, but all fellas want that. And I’m sorry about Sandie. She’s all right too, just a bit misguided. Now let’s pretend we’re a couple and we love each other. I want you to make love to me, not shag me.”

She kissed my chest and sucked my nipples and stroked me everywhere she could reach.

“Are you ready to put Big Tom inside me?” she teased. “I want you to slide him in and make love like it’s Valentine’s Day.”

As much as I briefly questioned her sanity, this romantic turn of events was rubbing off on me. She had loved me, hated me and forgiven me in the space of half an hour, and we were now in a state of bliss.

I stroked her beautiful, luxuriant bush and played with her warm moist pussy. I ran a finger through her crack and attempted to convey love as I did it.

Then I rolled on top of her and gazed into her eyes, which stared back at me, wide and plaintive.

“Oh, Billy,” she whispered.

Billy is not my name, but Karen was miles away and she was in a happy place, so I let it go.

“Oh, Bill,” she said. “Make love to me. I want you all over me. I want your manhood in my womanhood. I want your long, thick, firm sausage in my roll."

I slid into Karen’s cunt like a smooth, benign alligator entering a river and I swam up her delta and slipped back down and back up. We were as one, in a peaceful, cocooning rhythm like nothing I had ever experienced before.

“Oh… Yes… Beautiful. Lovely. That feels so good,” she whispered, and the romance that warmed that blessed bed pulled us both steadily to the edge of orgasm.

“You can cum in me,” she breathed. “I want you to.”

As I came, she held me tenderly and then seamlessly came to her own climax as if blown by a warm but insistent breeze.

In the morning, she was gone before I knew it. They had a train to catch and dragged their tired, hungover bodies reluctantly but with discipline out of my flat and into the city.