The irony of the situation didn’t escape me even then: I’d resisted all manner of fashionable drugs freely on offer around Alexander’s dinner table, only to be drawn back to my first drug of choice – sex. I don’t think I was under any illusion that there was anything resembling love between Ollie and me, but he represented both my dealer – he’d first introduced me to the highs and lows – and the drug itself. And that’s what I was in love with. I loved sex and, in turn, I was hooked on – and constantly astonished by – the power I held over Ollie. I had merely to glance at him or brush against him with the faintest of touches and he’d be instantly hard. I didn’t explore why that was. My relationship with Ollie was purely, exquisitely and unhealthily physical. Ollie took it almost as a sacred duty to instruct me in all the sensual delights – tending always to the darker, more dangerous side.

Did I mention that I saw Ollie only at weekends? To an extent, that suited me fine. During the week I became reclusive, cutting myself off from fellow students, longing only for Ollie’s return on Friday nights, unable to share with friends details of any of our adventures – nights that thrilled with exquisite torture, but that made me feel ever so slightly ashamed. And still, my focus was keen, pining for skin against hot, yielding flesh, insatiable desire peaking my breasts, swirling sensation threatening to dissolve my very core as his tongue teases inner thigh. Sitting in lecture halls, visions of his rigid and ridged pole approaching my lips, threatening with its determination, the intoxicating aroma of his overpowering maleness almost tangible now, making thigh muscles contract. Visceral memories of the probing of relentless fingers deep inside – this time my own – advancing, retreating, back and forth as Ollie watches, full lips parted slightly as his breath becomes shallow, fast. I tear my eyes away from him, thick mushroom of his penis emerging from his tight fist and I glance at my reflection in the mirror, legs wide, moisture glistening against lush, dark pussy hair and I’m hypnotised by the wantonness, the exposure, the knowing abandon to my lover’s eyes. Being watched brings an extra sensual dimension that Ollie understands. He has an awareness of the delicate undercurrents of my needs that Adam would never have guessed at. For now, I luxuriate in the knife-edge torture of being seen. Here in the sparsely populated echoing lecture hall, I reach down, fingers sliding to achieve release…

Yes, Ollie understands. He understands and he challenges my secret desires, edging me a little further each time towards the knife-edge precipice. With an unerring instinct, he sought out like-minded souls. I didn’t ask how, but he found people I had never met in this small town before. My first introduction to this exclusive elite was unexpected, unsought, but not unwelcome. No warning, no preparation. But Ollie clearly believed that I was ready…

Jade Williams
Author of Body and Soul

Read Jade's previous blogs:

May 2008
June 2008
July 2008
August 2008