She Came, She Saw, She… Came

Well hello folks! I’m back in civilisation, a giant mug of black coffee on one side and a pain au chocolat on the other, recovering from a night of sexual whatnot with Forbidden Fruit.

Is it wrong that I feel no guilt whatsoever? I’m sure this will change when the news inevitably gets back to my friend who’s a bit in love with him, but for now I actually couldn’t care less. I’m either a bad person or I’ve literally had my morals shagged out of me.

So last night, I stepped into my wedges, pulled on cut off shorts and a gold knit (with a rather fabulous set of underwear not so hidden beneath) and hopped on a train out of London to – literally – the middle of nowhere. Apparently the theatre was just a short walk from the station, but considering my lack of direction and the height of my heels I decided to forego the healthy option and hop in a cab. Good job too! It was bloody MILES!

So I’m sitting outside the theatre, tapping away on my blackberry and out comes Forbidden with a big smile on his gorgeous face. I’m quite impressed with myself for not tripping over my own feet when I saw him.

Last time I saw him he had long (ish) straggly hair (a bit Aiden Turner-esque, mmm yummy) and was a bit scrawny, yet cute. THIS time, his hair’s been chopped off and styled into a sexy fifties quiff (for the show but whatever) and for the first time I notice what a PERFECTLY chiselled face he’s got. And his eyes… oh good lord those eyes. At this point I realised I was in serious trouble with this one. He’s the exact type of guy I always used to fall for – tall, cute, intense actor-y type… I thought to myself, if I manage to keep this ‘no-strings-attached’ I’m officially cured.

So after the show we went to the nearby Slug and Lettuce (where we got 50% off all drinks because he was from the theatre… hence a lot of wine got drunk)and snuck upstairs to the second floor which was actually closed… ooo how rebellious! A few hours later, we were sufficiently drunk and caught up enough to do some couch bound making out.

Forbidden makes out VERY well. The end.

In between the make out sessions, I was getting texts from Movie Man (the shame!) who keeps texting to ask how I am… since he thinks I’m still ill in bed, not in another county on a sex quest. Here’s the moment when I felt like a truly TERRIBLE person for all of 10 seconds:

‘If your feeling better tomorrow and just fancy chilaxing in a park or something just let me know. If not I’ll just catch you next week.’

ARGH!

So eventually, we get kicked out of the bar at the end of the night (which was probably a good thing because I was inches away from tearing Forbidden’s clothes off) and head back to his digs. Luckily, there’s been a bit of bed hopping going on and we’ve been left with the sofa bed in the living room.

For some insane reason, I managed to go to the bathroom and get changed into my super awesome oversized sleepy shirt while Forbidden made the sofa into a bed – for all the good that did me. The springs of the fold out matress had barely settled in place when I found myself thrown down on the bed, sexy shirt still in place but my knickers miraculously the other side of the room.

Of course, you all want to know about the cock. Don’t lie and tell me you don’t. Well, for someone as tall dark and handsome, I have to admit I was expecting bigger. Not that it wasn’t nice – as penises go it was a rather nice looking one, and I spent quite a bit of time getting to know it rather well. So preocupied was I with said job, that I didn’t realise I’d been manouevered quite expertly into the 69 position – oh yes, apparently people still do that.

Anyhoo, after “the best head” Forbidden had “ever had” it became apparent that for all his hotness and perfection, he’s still a man, and a mere ten minutes after shooting his load… he was asleep.

Great.

Early this morning, however, I found a creative way to wake him up and demanded some actual sex. Now, I’m not really a morning sex kind of person, I find the early morning light is not the most flattering, especially when you’re hung over and have mascara half way down your face, but I’d be damned if I’d sat on a train for forty five minutes and sat through two and a half hours of cheesy fifties musical crap for nothing. Forbidden, however, seems to be all about the morning sex, and bless him, he was rather determined to make up for falling asleep on me (literally… ON me) last night.

Three orgasms worth of making up, to be precise.

Now how do we all feel about masturbation with an audience? I, for one, am not much of a fan and don’t really fancy getting the old rabbit out in front of a man or anything… but Forbidden had other ideas. Apparently, it “really turns him on” when I watch him get himself off. Is this a bit weird? Or am I just harbouring slightly prudish tendencies? It was rather fascinating really, since I’ve never actually seen a man give himself one before. I was still a part of the action, mind you, but he was definitely they starring role in this show. I did, however, step into the spotlight when I sensed the curtain was about to come down, because in my slightly prone position I didn’t really fancy spunk in my hair all the way back to London.

And what did he do after this marathon?

Fell asleep again… of course he did.

Eventually I managed to elbow him out of bed long enough for him to pull on some clothes (and put on glasses – oh my god, that was just not fair. It was so sexy I nearly died) and take me to the station so I could get back to civilisation – and he could get onto the next city on his tour, and three hours later, here I am. With coffee. Ahhhhh.

Am I going to be able to shun the emotional attachment? Well, it’s tough to say at this point. There are only six weeks of the tour left and then he’s back on my West End doorstep… which can only mean trouble. For the moment though, I am safe in the knowledge that it could just never work. This is a man who – while perfect in every other way – likes to go to bed very late and have sex in the morning. I am a woman who likes to roll out of bed at 6am, drink 3 cups of coffee and spend an hour on my hair and makeup. There is NO time for sex in my morning routine.

So there you have it. That’s my reason for keeping it casual… and I’m sticking to it.

For now.