OK, here I am trying to get some work done in my, thankfully, air-conditioned office, as London gently steams, when my Sugarphone pings.
Now, you will recall from earlier posts, that Cleo is my current Sugarbabe and we’re on for Thursday this week, when I say ‘On’, I mean bed ‘On’.
After my gallant behaviour on our first date, Cleo has made me aware, with no ambiguity, that she is expecting us to fuck.
Which, of course, suits me very fine, thank you very much.
So I read down the text and it’s fairly hot. A list of likes and dislikes, all on the edgy side of vanilla, veering into the wonderful world of kink.
Then, at the end, ‘I really want us to fuck as naturally as possible, so are you happy if we swap STI certificates?’
My last one is 6 months old, so I’m going to trot along to my favourite, discrete private health clinic in the City and 24 hrs later an email comes, telling you you’re in the clear (hopefully!).
Made me think though, I’m going to bed with Cleo, already having a clear idea of what she likes and what she doesn’t, not only that, but the awful condom fumbly moment will not raise its ugly head – this ordering your sex in advance could well catch on…