This series of short stories chronicles the journey of Ashleigh with her friends and relations, as she explores her sexuality, and progresses from teenage sex to the wider reaches of sexual behaviour. They are written from different points of view, to give insight into how the experiences influence the individual characters.
Read the whole set of stories for a better understanding of the characters' motivation and personality, and watch their exploits unfold with people of both sexes, in single and group situations and within their families.
I sat in reception fingering the business card thrust into my hand by the black girl I met at Geeta's party. A brown-haired man in a similar coloured leather jacket smiled at me from the seat opposite. Something about his stubble and the slight sneer on his lips and the glint in his dark eyes told me he could be my type.
But, my type was anybody with a big dick and lots of energy and imagination – and men like that could be found everywhere.
The response in my look told him I might be interested, but not to get too excited because I needed to make up my mind. Anyway, I thought, "Why should I be interested in someone I meet in an infectious diseases clinic? He's probably riddled with every venereal disease known to mankind."
The girl two seats down from him looked as if she'd been up all night: her eyelids were heavy and kept closing; her head nodded forward from time to time; the shape of her blonded hair looked as if she'd been pushed up against a wall in a back alley; her makeup was smudged and her mascara streaked down her face. The leopard skin top and short brown skirt made her look cheap. The snags in her tights added to my conviction that she was a street prostitute.
The business card in my hand read: Jessica Thompson: Consultant. It sounded important. But, how could a woman in her early twenties have achieved such a position? I imagined she'd fucked the boss to get promoted. It seemed like a good idea to me – one I'd try some day.
I could still taste the lady cum that Jessica sprayed over my face after I'd sucked her cunt to orgasm, dirty bitch. The taste of sex is one of my favourites. The thought gave me a twinge in the crotch. I crossed my legs and worked my muscles to pull in the area around my cunt to amplify the feeling.
The man opposite smiled again. I felt sure he didn't know what I was doing. It made my mind up: to ignore him and send Jessica a text to set up the threesome that she proposed with her and her partner. As I opened my bag for my mobile phone, my name was called.
The nurse took my history, again. She was one of those tall and thin and efficient and scraggy types, with no tits and of no interest whatsoever to me. I told her I'd experimented with anal sex. It was a lie. Anal sex had become a mainstream part of my sexual behaviour – and I loved every fucking minute of it.
Her warning about the dangers of mixing different types of sex made me think. I'd never liked boys using condoms. I love lots of cum, spread everywhere, splashed over my face and tits, and leaking from my cunt and running down my legs and massaging it into my body and licking it off my fingers. I found no reason to spoil the fun.
She took the samples and, as I had no problems or questions, the examination was over in minutes. Her tinny voice, telling me to take more precautions, rang in my head for ages. I knew she was right and thought about how to have the enjoyment of cum and lots of safe sex at the same time. I've still not worked it out.
A text bleeped on my phone as I left the clinic and walked down the steps to the street. The message was cryptic: "Still want a gng-bng?" asked Geeta.
Just looking at the words on the screen excited me. My heart raced. My cunt ran wet. My nipples swelled against the inside of my bra. Another of my fantasies was on offer, something I'd masturbated over many times since I'd discussed it with Geeta. I sent her an immediate reply: "Yes pls asap."
All thoughts of meeting up with Jessica and her partner vanished from my mind – a gang bang trumped a threesome any day.
The next day, after texts back and forth, I found myself about to enter the bar Geeta told me about, just as the evening was coming alive. I felt out of breath, as if I'd run all the way there, but it was just the excitement of the anticipation, of the unknown, of wondering how I'd cope – just me and a gang of men – all of us gagging for sex.
The bar was dark and noisy and full of people, everybody seeming to have more important things on their agenda than me. I stood alone in the middle of a crowd feeling forgotten and lost. For the first time, doubts entered my mind. What if all the plans had fallen through? What if I'd been set up and this was a big joke?
I needn't have worried. A man who looked to be in his late twenties, with shiny black hair and swarthy skin tugged at my coat sleeve.
"Are you Ashleigh?" he asked in a polite voice that took me by surprise – hardly the voice I expected from a gang-banger.
"You must know Geeta," I said, thinking he might be her husband.
"It's best not to use names ... don't you think?"
"The mystery makes it more intriguing."
"Are you ready?"
My heart leapt at the words. I hadn't realised how psyched up I'd become in anticipation of what the evening offered. A belt of electricity ran from by brain to my clit – as if I'd pushed a vibrator up my cunt on full speed.
Meeting a bunch of strangers didn't concern me, or the dangers of being exposed to a gang of sex-mad men determined to fuck the arse off me. They could do whatever they wanted. I trusted Geeta, and the politeness in the man's voice dispelled any lingering doubts.
I wanted to say: "I can't wait to see the expressions on your faces as I strip off ... and show off my tits and my arse and my shaved cunt ... and get on with the fucking."
That was the time I realised how I was becoming an exhibitionist – not ashamed to show off my genitalia to men – or women – and do outrageous things – sexual things – and ignore the consequences. It makes me feel special to know I do things other people would never dream of doing.
I wanted to say: "You bet I'm ready. I can't wait to get loads of hard dick up my cunt and up my arse and in my mouth ... and get covered in cum ... and get fucked until I can't take any more."
As all these things flashed through my mind, I couldn't find any words to answer him. So, I just nodded and followed him, wondering if he'd done this sort of thing before and where the rest of his gang were and how long it would take to get wherever we were going – I just wanted to get on with it.
He escorted me to a black car parked by the kerb, opened the rear door as if we were on a proper date and walked round the other side to join me in the back. I didn't know what to expect next – whether he'd start on me in the car, or not.
"You'd better put your seat belts on," the fair haired driver said over his shoulder, looking at me in his mirror.
I caught the reflection of his blue eyes and pale face and we smiled at each other. Something about his broad smile indicated he was as excited as me – and that he couldn't wait to fuck me. Then he whisked us off, around a few corners, past several traffic lights. We soon arrived at a block of apartments.
The three of us almost ran up the two flights of stairs to the first floor, our feet clattering on the stone steps. A door opened by magic. We were expected. The noise inside the apartment fell to a hush, with just a pop song playing in the background.
