My Ten-Year Crush by Olivia Spring
An extract from Losing My Inhibitions
Chapter One
At last.
I thought it was never going to end.
He’d been pounding away for ten minutes, grunting like a pig, and I’d been listening to the radio playing in the background, trying to figure out what advert the song before last was from. Was it the one advertising car insurance or the one for those panty liners that are supposed to keep you cotton fresh all day long? It’ll come to me…
We should have just called it a night when he’d first struggled to get his machinery working. Based on tonight, it seems like what I’d read about some older men finding it difficult to get it up was true.
It was only about half an hour after he’d popped a little blue pill that he’d been able to get his little soldier to stand to attention, if you catch my drift. Which, unfortunately for me, was around the same time I started to sober up and wonder what the hell I was doing.
But by then, he was really excited, and it had been so long since my last time that I’d got myself worked up and was just as keen as him to give it a go. I mean, when I start something, I like to see it through. Yep, I’m dedicated like that.
I’d also read that there are lots of benefits of sleeping with an older guy. Apparently, after years of experience in the sack, they know their way around a woman’s body better than a gynaecologist, so I thought I may as well give it a try. Purely in the name of research, of course.
But now I was really wishing I hadn’t bothered. It was about as exciting as watching a hundred-metre snail race. And this guy wouldn’t know his way around my anatomy if I gave him a map.
Still, at least it was over now. I was back in the saddle. First time since I’d left my ex-husband. Frankly, I hoped it got better from here. Please tell me it does?
I opened my eyes slowly and glanced up at his crepey skin and flaky bald head, which had tufts of grey at the side. His droopy man boobs hung above my chest, whilst the weight of his large pot belly pressed down on my stomach.
Dear God.
I must have had a lot more to drink than I’d realised.
Don’t get me wrong. If I was looking for a relationship and this was a man I’d fallen madly in love with, then I wouldn’t be so shallow. It was just that right now, I was looking for fun. To make up for the years I’d wasted with my ex. When I was dreaming of the day that I’d be free from Steve and with another man, this wasn’t exactly what I’d had in mind.
I’d pictured a young, hot, sexy guy with abs that would give a Calvin Klein model a run for his money, with a full head of dark hair I could run my fingers through. A stud who would have me screaming for more, rather than wondering when it would all be over.
It was Colette, my boss, slash landlady, slash housemate, slash friend, who’d set me up with him at my divorce party earlier this evening. Now that I was officially free, Colette said some male company might be good for me, so she’d invited Donald, her loaded sixty-two-year-old boyfriend, and he’d brought his fifty-five-year-old mate Terrence along.
I knew that I was ready to get back on the horse, and it was already under control. My cousin Alex had been helping me. She’d given me a crash course in online dating two weeks ago, and I wanted to set up my profile ASAP so I could get going on the whole swiping thing, but this big work exhibition kept getting in the way. I’d been burning the midnight oil every night and often over the weekends too, trying to get everything prepared, which didn’t leave me with any time for extracurricular activities. And after another long, tiring and stressful day, a hook-up was the last thing I was thinking about. But I guess the booze I’d been drinking all night had made me relax a little too much, so when Terrence had started flirting, my libido had woken up, curiosity had got the better of me, and I’d hastily thought, Why not just get it out the way now?
Big Mistake.
Oh well. You live and you learn. We all do things in the heat of the moment that we regret. As long as I didn’t do it again, then it was fine. Which meant I better start thinking about how I was going to get this big sweaty oaf of a man off me. Now. I’d heard the effects of those pills can last for hours, and I definitely couldn’t endure another round.
No way.
Remind me never to drink alcohol again.
Want to find out what happens next? Buy Losing My Inhibitions by Olivia Spring here:
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