Tel



  T E L

  By A.J. Lucas

  Copyright 2013 A.J. Lucas

  Prologue

  I presumed I would get significantly better with age but years after I lost my virginity I was still removing bras by the shoulder strap because I wasn’t skilled enough to undo the fastener. Women like to feel they’re about to be seduced by a capable lover, one who is going to take charge and provide an orgasmic experience, culminating in the ultimate crescendo, so what they don’t want is their breasts being yanked south and bra lying miserably around their waist but that’s all I had achieved in five years of naive sexual activity; that and rubbing around downstairs like I was attempting to remove a coffee stain from the carpet.

  On one occasion a woman fell asleep whilst I was giving her my best pelvic thrusts. To this day I still try and convince myself the incident was caused by the excessive quantity of alcohol we had consumed but, let’s face it; if I had any sexual qualities to speak of she wouldn’t have dozed off into a dream-filled coma when she was supposed to be bouncing around on top of me like a Jockey.

  The female in question went by the name of Halo Hedge. It’s hard to forget anyone whose parents have named them Halo, or who has the surname Hedge but it’s especially difficult when the two are placed next to each other on a birth certificate. When we got back to my dirty and dishevelled student room I fumbled around for ten minutes trying to unsuccessfully find Halo’s G-spot before giving up and showing her the old bra down to the waist routine and depositing three litres of saliva onto her breasts. When that failed to please her I shamefully bored her to sleep with my pneumatic drill action.

  To save embarrassment all round I should have simply woken her, given a cringe-worthy excuse for what she had experienced and, in a not-so-discrete attempt to have her vacate the building, booked a taxi for the poor thing whilst she tried to get her bra into shape but I, well I don’t often get the opportunity to be a romantic so instead I nervously slipped an arm under Halo’s head as she slept, ashamed of my less than mediocre performance but hopeful she would find my tender, yet forced, after-sex care an emotional turn on.

  The reality was, however, that Halo woke a few hours later anxiously wondering why a strange man had his now numb arm sensitively positioned underneath her and, consequentially, I was asked to turn my head whilst she scrambled around for her clothes before placing them back on her unsatisfied and regretful flesh.

  My Father once told me that practice made perfect when it came to women which is why I continued to place myself in such situations, each time believing it would be better than the last but it was fair to say pretty much all of my sexual encounters had been complete and utter failures with no exception and no sign of improvement. I guess it was my own fault really. I mean, no one had ever taught me how to have sex, I just kind of picked it up as I went along so any failures had to be down to me right, as harsh as that seemed.

  So, with all that in mind you can imagine how nervous I felt having a woman I truly wanted to impress, in fact who I had developed rather strong feelings for, lying stark naked under my bed sheets, surprisingly burning with desire for me, expecting a mind blowing performance to cap off what had so far been a rather successful night.

  As I stood staring at myself in the bathroom mirror, in my tight and unflattering Calvin Klein boxer shorts bought especially for the occasion, my mind frantically processed the situation and attempted to merge it with a hope that I would suddenly become a more capable lover, give myself to the moment and bravely go where I had never gone before; past the one hundred and twenty second barrier. I knew the ability was within me (hell I’d once watched Star Whores for twenty minutes solid) but as I splashed cold water on my face and tried to think about mushrooms, my erection was still profound and beating away like a drumming monkey. I had to focus, I had to clear my mind of how much I wanted the lustful woman lying in my bed wondering what was taking me so long and I had to make the moment count because I might not get another.

  I thought of mushrooms, I pictured how grey and slimy they were, how the juice spurted from their every pore when a bite was taken and I imagined how rancid they would taste if I was ever to succumb to the dreaded fungal stalk once again. Mushrooms were my kryptonite, the one thing that made me go weak with repulsion, turning my stomach and forcing vomit to rise up from within. I often wretched at the very sight of the little grey suckers and even though the mere thought of them made my bones shiver, it still didn’t make the most pronounced one lie down.

  As thoughts of naked women and mushrooms clouded my mind, through the mist came visions of why I had come to be in that position in the first place; how I had managed to find myself talking into a mirror, sweat oozing from my forehead, preparing for possible intercourse with a beautiful and caring woman when a few months prior I could only have dreamt of being in such a situation.

  Maybe it’s best that I just tell you what had happened and then you can decide for yourself what kind of person I was; whether I was good, bad or merely a scum bag. I guess I should start with the crux of the problem, which was, if truth be told, that I was madly and deeply in love with someone I shouldn’t have been.