Writing my last blog post really got me thinking about that guy and all the crazy things we done. The more I thought about it, the more memories came flooding back and I decided that this blog has been a little too sad/awkward so far and anyone reading must think I’ve had a whole bunch of horrible experiences. It’s about time I chronicled the peaks of my journey so far and this guy is definitely a peak. In fact, I almost peak myself just thinking about him.

We met in a field. I was there “camping” with friends. There were no tents. Our trip basically involved trekking into a little patch of woodland on a farm outside of town and getting really drunk/high and having sex round a badly made campfire. It was surprisingly fun. I hadn’t been for a few months because I had actually fallen pregnant there, made it nearly three months into the pregnancy and miscarried. The dad wanted nothing to do with me and I hadn’t told my mum. So instead of facing up to the tragedy and going to hospital, I decided that going back and getting high in conception field was a better idea. I was clearly a child genius.

I hated the entire night. I hadn’t been around for months, I didn’t feel like I belonged anymore and I secretly resented everyone around the campfire for not being a little more sensitive to my situation. I was just a little ball of anger in the corner, curled up in a giant “goth” hoodie and unable to even look at the bush in which I had regretfully created life in a drunken fumble. I was starting to see this entire thing for what it really was. Irresponsible and moronic. That’s when he showed up. He looked like an angel in the firelight. He was ballsy and arrogant yet he noticed right away that I wasn’t right. He was the only person that night to ask me if I was ok and he was the only one I hadn’t met before. Don’t get me wrong, he was hardly playing the role of my saviour but there was something about him, beyond the air of arrogance, that just drew me in. I could tell that he also hated the whole “drinking in the woods” scene. At one point he asked me to go home with him but I said no, having just suffered the consequences of losing the only good thing to come out of my last drunken encounter.

Everyone got drunk and stripped to their pants except me. There was a lot of jumping over the fire and running around nearly naked. It was fun to watch actually. He played guitar by the fire as we got high until the sun came up and it was just us two left. The night ended with him spooning me on the muddy floor and in the morning, he left with my number and my story. He said I needed reminding of what life is really about and that I was going about it the wrong way in those muddy woods. If I’m honest I expected it to end there, I was broken and he was very aware of how hot he was. I didn’t see why he’d bother with a girl so obviously damaged. But he did.

A week later, he calls me and invites me round for pizza and beer at his flat. I don’t know why I went but I did. There was something about his attitude towards life that appealed to me at that time in my life. I’d just miscarried my drunken regret, I was just about to sit important exams, my friends were horrible people and I was self-harming badly. I walked into that guy’s flat a broken mess and by the time we were over, I’d turned my life around and discovered who I really was. One day, I’ll thank him for that.

Anyways, back on track with the sex part of “sex blog”. He was a serial charmer and holy god, he was good at it. He made me dinner, we got high and he listened to me as I told him more about how I’d gotten to be where I was in life. Not to mention that he was unbelievably sexy. Before long, he was helping me out of my oversized slipknot hoodie and I had forgotten entirely about my new found chastity. He kissed away all of my resistance with a style of kissing I have since adopted myself, passionate with a lot of lip but no tongue. I was mesmerised and more turned on than I’d ever been before. For once, I wasn’t having sex for attention, for reassurance, for control. I was driven entirely by lust and I loved it.

Now, when we were at the campsite the previous week he’d told me that he’d always been insecure about his small penis. He genuinely seemed so down about it which really didn’t match his personality at all as he oozed confidence. At the time, I was flattered that he’d confided in me about it and hadn’t thought much of it. However, as he knelt between my legs about to unveil his tiny penis I was suddenly filled with dread. I was terrified that if I didn’t at least pretend to have the time of my life, his complex would be worsened and I didn’t wanna do that to him. So as he was about to pull off his (very tight and very sexy) boxers, I braced myself for a shrivelled little thing to greet me. Now, the room was dimly lit and I’d been wearing jeans so I had no idea what was about to pop out.

It turns out he’d lied about his penis being tiny purely because he liked the look on girls’ faces when they came face to face with what I can only describe as the most perfect penis I’ve ever seen after expecting something insignificant. How deviously twisted of him. I found it hilarious, personally. It definitely tickled me pink.

What followed was literally life-changing sex. His tongue gave me tingles in places I didn’t even know could tingle and he done things with his penis that I have never been able to replicate since. It was raw, carnal and rough. I’d been with dominant guys before but I’d always felt like ultimately, I was in control. Not this time. He truly owned every part of me that night and I loved it. He held me down and teased me until I begged and then kept teasing. A few hours in, he’d turned me from a timid and sad girl into a ferocious sex toy and I had never felt so alive. I spent that night acting purely upon selfish impulses and the desire for new sensations rather than thought and logic like usual. He was exactly what I needed to wake me up from the pit of teenage angst I’d fallen into. I went home aching everywhere and grinning ear to ear. I was hooked.

I was back the next day and he knew I would be. This time I thought I was ready for him, that I knew what was coming but I’d soon learn that would never be the case with this one. He loved pushing boundaries and was inherently unpredictable. This time we had shower sex and he found it hilarious that I was unable to stay standing when I orgasmed. The next time he tied me up with duct tape and teased me for hours. I just kept coming back for more. Soon I started skipping school to spend time with him. We had high sex, drunk sex,, rough sex, morning sex, slow sex, half asleep sex, angry sex, and ultimately sad sex. It didn’t take me long to convince my immature self that I loved this boy. He’d woken me up from my sadness and I soon confused this new found happiness and emotion with love. I wanted him to myself and even then it was apparent that he was untameable.

One time I showed up at his place with fresh cuts on my legs. He was so disappointed. He’d spent weeks building my confidence, teaching me to stop wearing my heart on my sleeve and now I’d relapsed. This was when he really turned my life around. He took me shopping, made me try on girly clothes instead of the usual baggy black clothes I usually wore. He bought me my first lingerie corset-suspender set and my first vibrator (Hamish). He took me to his flat, dressed me up in the lingerie and went over every inch of my body telling me what he found sexy about it. He cuddled me after sex and told me about his view of life, about how I was way too young to be carrying so much bitterness and sadness around on my sleeve. How I’d regret missing out on being young when I’m older. Then he played his guitar and sung his own songs naked (honestly).

Since that night I have never cut myself on purpose again.

We continued our whirlwind romance. He sneaked me into pubs despite both of us being underage, his charm got him served easily. I tried my first shot with him. He took me to his favourite shop – a little vintage place outside of the city centre. He taught me how to roll a joint and we’d fall asleep during high sex, him still inside me. He encouraged me to help myself along during sex and I had the most powerful orgasms I’d ever had doing that. I starred in my very first sex video with him. I tried anal for he first time after he tied me up with my stockings, gagged me and used my vibrator on me. I found out all of my limits with him and loved every second and every time he pushed me just a little bit further.

He pushed me to look for who I really was but despite all of the sweet and sexy things he’d do for me I knew deep down he wasn’t just mine. He refused to commit, he saw other girls and didn’t keep in regular contact. I hated it and pushed for commitment. Then, he found out he was gonna be a dad. He’d gotten some other girl pregnant. I was upset but in my stupid teenage infatuation, I stayed with him. Then I walked in on him and that other girl and that’s where my last post starts.

It wasn’t how I’d hoped it would end but by that stage I’d grown in confidence so much that I’d realised that he had given me all I needed to get by on my own. He was a wild one and had no plans for the future and had a baby on the way. I had just aced all of my exams and my future was whatever I wanted it to be. Limitless.

The girl went on to have a baby boy. He now has a 4 year old son and last I heard was selling drugs and in a band. He texted me later on and asked if I wanted to have another threesome with him and the baby’s mum or wanted any drugs. I said no and that’s the last I ever heard of the wild boy who taught me how to push boundaries and to be proud of my own body and what I can do with it.