I met Ralph Clarke at my flatmate Jane’s birthday party between Christmas and New Year.
Like most student house parties, the music that night was perilously close to deafening, and conversation was generally carried on by lip-reading and sign language.
Jane, a tall willowy blonde with generous curves and an infectiously happy demeanour, was, as usual well on her way to being completely legless. I was feeling a little jaded after yet another double shift at the wine bar and I could have happily slunk off to bed. But there was no way I could have slept with walls and floor vibrating with every beat.
“I got someone you should meet,” Jane screamed at me, taking my hand and dragging me through the press of bodies.
Of course, I knew what was happening. She’d been trying to match me up with one of her sad, single male friends, ever since I’d drunkenly let it slip that I hadn’t had sex for nearly nine months.
“Thi.. i….alph,” she mouthed at me, stopping in front of a tall bloke with wavy black hair and liquid brown eyes. “…. e … he ... I ... d ... yo… ut.”
I nodded as my brain struggled to fill in the missing spaces in the sentence. He held out his hand and I took it. His paw was large and dry and warm and the look in his eyes said that he’d rather have been somewhere else. He was good looking in an outdoors, rugged sort of way, with a neatly-groomed designer stubble decorating his solid jaw-line. There was something rather too full about his lips, which hinted at a slight mixing of the blood that ran through his veins.
He made the universal tipping-hand ‘Do you want a drink?' sign. I looked at my empty glass and nodded. He made the follow me sign, and I nodded again.
The kitchen was only slightly quieter, well at least we could hear each other shout.
“I’m sorry,” he bellowed.
“What for?” I hollered back.
“For being foisted on you by our mutual friend.”
“Is that what she did? I thought I was being foisted on you.”
His eyes lit up as he smiled. “Okay, let's pretend that we met by accident at a party and you are standing here with me because you find me vaguely interesting.”
“What? Only vaguely?”
“We’ve only just met. We’ll start at vague and see where we go.”
“So, you are only vaguely interested in me too?” I shouted, looking theatrically hurt.
His eyes washed over me in a semi-comical sexually measuring way. “I could lie and tell you that I find you fascinating, and that I want you to have my children,” he said, as the music suddenly dipped a few decibels, “but you’d see through that in a moment, and frankly that’d be kinda creepy.”
“Oh, that’s very sweet,” I returned picking up a bottle of vodka. “I accept.”
“You accept what?”
“Your proposal.”
He laughed. “Now we’ve moved out of vague towards mildly interesting,” he said, picking up two glasses and loading them with ice from the bucket.
I could still hear the music, but it was being drowned out by the sound of my own ecstasy-filled screams, as his tongue played over my pussy lips, while his thumb slid back and forth over my erect clitoris. He’d been at it for absolute ages, drawing one agonising orgasm after another from me, and licking up the hot juices that flowed out of me, like it was nectar.
Somehow, within an hour, we’d zoomed past interesting toward fascinating, and then veered across to ‘I’ve got to fuck you right now, or I’m going to die.’
The kissing had started after the third vodka and orange, when we’d taken to the dance floor, our bodies swaying sensuously. After that we’d found a space under the stairs, and he’d slipped his hand up my skirt and into my panties, and I gently massaged the expanding bulge in his trousers. Then he’d whispered in my ear, “Let’s go somewhere else, so I can eat you.”
“Are you a carnivore, then?” I’d asked.
“Yes,” he’d replied, taking my hand and threading our way through the crowd.
We made it to my room, but the bed was covered in coats and a naked, hairy bottom was rising and falling between a pair of plump white knees, accompanied by a squeal every time the guy drove down into the half hidden girl, who I vaguely recall introducing herself to me as Anna.
We stood and watched the action for a few minutes, getting hornier and hornier with every thrust, and hoping that he wasn’t going to hold out much longer. But he kept banging into her like a demented jack-hammer on speed.
It was the same story in the next two bedrooms. But, in the last one, Helen, one of the other girls who shared the house, was just sliding her pants back over her wet crotch and the man, who wasn’t her present boyfriend was doing up his belt, a triumphant smile on his freckled face..
“Hi Tracy,” Helen giggled guiltily. “It’s all yours. Have fun. There are rubbers in the drawer if you want them.” She pushed her lover out of the room ahead of her and slid past me, winking at Ralph.
Ralph shut the door and turned the key in the lock. “We don’t want any interruptions or voyeurs,” he said.
He kissed me again while he quickly unzipped my dress and unclipped by bra. I was down to my pants before I knew it.
“Lie down,” he whispered in my ear.
I eased back onto the bed while he peeled off his own shirt, trousers and pale blue boxers.
Bending forward he put pressure on my knees to move them apart.