Sex Talk

She flicks through the tv channels settling on various scenes of rampant love making and closeness and sighs and glances down at the man lying asleep on the fold down sofa bed, crocodile ashtray closed but already crammed with cigarette stubs, ash outlining the ash tray and trapped within the belly of the metal beast. A half drunk coffee and three empty packets of cheese and onion crisps, he farts as he sleeps and the dog moves its position of beside him to behind the sofa in case it is blamed for the sulphuric smell that lingers. Turning the tv off, she hastens from the room before she gags and closes the door on the smell as the dog belts between her legs and bounds up the stairs to the sanctuary that is under the bed, with the ripped packets of crisps, and the chewed to buggery cat food pouches. She heads to bed, undressing and pulling on her pyjamas she stands in the bathroom staring at herself in the large mirror and wonders what would have happened if she'd just said No to a relationship and concentrated on her own life? Well for starters, she would still be living with her parents, sleeping in the cold room with the inch gap under the window where the largest spiders would come in, or the draft from the gales up the valley would push their way in and make her room like a walk in freezer in the winter.

She'd met him almost 20 years ago, not long after she'd moved to Scotland from the flat lands of Cheshire where anything higher than a molehill was classed as a mountain. He was drop dead gorgeous and her heart skipped several beats, she couldn't eat for a week and would sigh at the mention of his name. This as her mother pointed out..was love.

As she settled into bed she wondered where it had all gone wrong, where the joy of sex was meant to be a pleasurable experience and not something that only occurred when you wanted children and did the most craziest of positions to make sure that the sperm slid up to where it was meant to go, because they were crap with sat navs and always argued with the designated drivers, and doing headstands on your bed was a perfectly natural thing to do. raises eyebrow

She listened intently to her friends gossiping about their love life over coffee and biscuits and wondered why hers wasn't as exciting, wondering if perhaps she'd built up this image of Hollywood romances as something that really happened. But then perhaps that was a myth and she should concentrate on Hilda and Stan Ogden, but wait, they still shared a bed together, when was the last time she'd shared the bed with another person. Oh wait, that was it, her daughter came in, one night because one of the cousins came over.

Before then, the son had slept in the bed because the floor was hard and he hated the camp-bed. It was a king size bed, the whole family could have slept in it and still had room for the little one roll over

She turned off the light in the bathroom and looked in on the sleeping children, the duvets on the floor or hanging over the edge of the bunk bed, fast asleep dreaming of xbox games or magical creatures perhaps. She switched the light off on the landing and entered her bedroom where the many characters of her every day fantasy world decorated the walls. Captain Jack, Doctor Who, Francesco Cura', how could he compete? Perhaps this was another factor of him not sleeping in the bed with her. Every where he'd look from his position against her would be plastered with David or John.

But there was a time when she had no posters on her walls, when she'd shared the bedroom with him before the kids were born, when she'd experienced sex for the first time and wondered after it had ended what all the bloody fuss was about and why she'd waited 3 years for it. She felt cheated almost. As if this sex before marriage was something that should be treasured, kept and so have something to unwrap, like a gift, but in reality it was nothing more than a five minute quick in and out and wham bam thank you mam, leave the cash on the end of the bed when you leave. or that's what it felt like

In that first night she'd had to re-direct him to the place he was meant to go, short of drawing a set of illuminous arrows or strap a sat nav to his cock it was hardly likely she was going to get anywhere near the pleasure she'd seen in the films. There was also the question of size, him in her, it seemed an impossible task and one she tensed up on many an occasion, but as all things go, it did and she found herself pinned against the head board until she accepted that he wasn't trying to bore through her entire body and relaxed.

She grew to enjoy the sexual moments but a little too much and found her mind drifting and returning and smirking. As he rode her, she imagined herself to be the grand national horse and he was the jockey, as he never looked at her, always ahead, moving against her in the rhythmic motion of approaching the hurdles and thrusting as though leaping through the brush I said 'brush, not bush'

He would perspire and she'd find herself reaching up and mopping his brow. As he continued to shag her, she moved her hands along his back and planned her next day arrangements, perhaps a little decorating, wipe down the paintwork.

"you're meant to be making noises" Suddenly she's snapped out of her thoughts by the panting man still working up the rhythm and several more fences to clear, so far he's not fallen off, he's a good chance of winning this race.

" I do, oh, what kind of noises?" She hadn't realised sex was meant to be noisy too and cast her mind back to the films, but most of the time the volume had been turned down low as their sounds had embarrassed her, not so much her but she didn't want him waking up from his slumber and lighting up while Casanova got one over and she'd have to listen to her other half slag off both actors and fart for the next half hour.

"I dunno, noises you make when you have sex" he grunted as he thrust again.

"oh you mean the noises I've been stifling, oh ok.. ooh...ahh, ouch..uh ooo..is that ok. I could do more.. um oooo, eeeee aaaa." She giggled, and put him off his stride, now he was looking at her.

"sorry but I'm not very good at this and so far you've not done anything that they've been doing in the films. I feel like a grand national horse and my mind keeps slipping to something else and the list of chores I need to do tomorrow. You could at least talk to me, perhaps do two things at once. I feel a little useless here, you're in me but I have no clue what I'm meant to do other than lie here and edge closer and closer to the headboard. Is this what they mean by the headache?"