Patrick was gorgeous; a 28 year old, dark haired, green eyed Irish artist. He also had a reputation for sleeping around and taking an excessive amount of drugs. I was twenty, naïve and inexperienced. Obviously, when he came over to chat to me at a party one night, I was overwhelmed. We got on brilliantly from the start and it soon became clear that getting off was on the agenda. Making no excuses, he led me out of the party and into his car.

He still lived with his parents so we had to behave ourselves on the way up to his room but as soon as he closed the door behind us, he grabbed me. "Tell me the dirtiest things you've ever wanted to do."

I flushed. He started kissing my neck – always a weak spot when I'm trying to retain my morals. "Tell me and we could do them…"

After more neck nibbling, my morals began to slide and I started to tell him all the rudest things I could think of. He got really into it and began to tell me his sordid daydreams. Before too long we were literally weak at the knees with lust and moved to the bed.

He proceeded to do everything I'd asked, and more, until I was begging him to fuck me. He picked me up by the waist and sat me astride him.

"Not without a condom." I said. I may have been naïve but I wasn't stupid.

He foraged around by the side of the bed.

"I don't have any. There's no need to worry about it."

Sorry, we'll have to do something else instead."

He looked deeply disappointed – but then inspiration flashed across his face.

"Wait a sec."

He went over to his sculpting equipment, foraged around and produced a packet of surgically sealed latex gloves. He ripped open the pack and flourished them. "We can use these instead."

I looked at his cock, then at the glove in his hand. I was so deep in the throes of lust that instead of laughing, all I could say was "WonÂ’t they be a bit small?"

"No problem. They'll stretch!"

He proceeded to pull the middle finger over his cock, whilst I feebly muttered "The thumb looks thicker," then got down to the task in hand (literally!). The second he was inside me, I began to see the humour. Feeling three rubber fingers and a thumb brushing your nether regions with every thrust brings that out in a girl. He seemed consumed with lust. I fought back my giggles. Eventually, he finished and removed the glove to reveal a rather red and unhappy looking member.

The next morning I woke up feeling smug because I'd pulled a fit bloke. Then I saw the glove-dom on the floor and couldn't hold back the laughter any more. He had the grace to look embarrassed and drove me home. Needless to say, we didn't see each other again.