If there’s one thing I’ve learned in life, it’s that people are all too eager to judge on appearances. If someone’s fat, they’re considered lazy; if they’re thin people accuse them of being fashion-obsessed and desperate to impress; and if, like me, they’re blonde and large breasted, there’s only one possible explanation. They’re stupid.

It was a warm summer's evening and I had been surfing the net, checking my e-mail and looking up a few photos of lovely naked women when the doorbell rang. I hurriedly closed down the computer in case I had to invite someone in and opened the door. Maria from next door stood there. She was about the same age as me, 40, 5’6” tall slim, long legs with a good figure and short black hair. She had 2 children and was living with Mike after they had each got divorced.

“I’d really like to pork you.”
The belch that followed this erotic request only served to emphasise the charm of the speaker, an obvious City boy with a face that had the puffiness of a heavy drinker who lived on junk food, and a body that, though slim, hinted at imminent rebellion around the stomach. I guessed that he was in his twenties, money-obsessed and used to getting his own way. But, glancing at the object of his ‘affections’, I had to concede one point. He had good taste.

You’ve never taken me to a work do before, and I’m really enjoying myself. Particularly, the way that you keep looking at me, as if you can’t quite believe that it’s me you’re with. I want that reaction, and it makes me tingle, in all the right places.

Daniel and I have only been seeing each other a couple of months, and we don’t get many opportunities to spend time together due to busy fledgling careers and living in different cities. When we are together sparks fly, but up until last night I had doubts about our long term compatibility.

I've always been into networking, so when a friend introduced me to Social Animals, I signed up immediately. The site looked like a great way to make contacts all over the world, which was exactly what I needed if I wanted my career to progress. Being in marketing, I deliberately added my most flattering photograph to the site because packaging is all-important. I didn't know quite what to add in my profile, so just typed a few quick details and left it at that. I had a marketing plan to write and, with the stupidly small budget the client had given me to play with, I needed to concentrate if I was going to come up with anything good.

They hadn't seen each other for years. It was surprising to both of them that they still had these unrealised feelings for each other. But this continuing history had become more than obvious over the day while they worked as volunteers in the soup kitchen, making food for the needy and flirting ostentatiously.

When she opens the door, she gets the shock of her life. 'Oh my God,' she thinks. He is standing there, suitcase by his side, a bunch of flowers in his hand, looking at her, his vulnerability so sincere and deep, that she barely knows what to say or do. They have talked about this since they both became single, but she never thought it would happen like this.

The anticipation really starts to build as I lock my flat door and head for the tube station. Although it will be well over ten hours before I arrive in New York, I’m on my way, and quietly smile to myself at the thought of the pleasures that await for me there.

Dear Dan, since we met last week at the conference I have decided we need to work more closely together on that project we talked about. It is certainly something I believe will bring mutual benefits.

My kitchen was being refurbished and after a stream of old, sweaty and pervy workmen trampling over my carpet the joiner arrived wearing dirty shorts,rigger boots and one of those tool belts around his waist.I knew straight away from his cheeky smile and the sneaky peek he gave my breasts that I was going to get more than a new breakfast bar...

Sarah and I had been fuck-buddies for a while, but for the last few months she’d been out of action – fallen in love, she said. Much as I fancied her, I also liked her, so I was pleased that she’d found someone, even if I did miss her exquisite mouth around my cock. Still, we’d had a lot of encounters and there’s no law against wanking over memories now, is there…

Jane had spent most of the evening watching banal TV programmes and slowly finishing off a bottle of cheap white wine. She was a friendly girl, but her social life had hit a bit of a minor rut recently. All her friends seemed to be attached or off on holiday in some sunny location. Normally, she wouldn’t have minded being alone, but this was a Saturday night and the loneliness on the most socially active night of the week had hit her harder than she expected.

Imagine you’re on holiday with your girlfriends in the Caribbean. Its mid-afternoon and you are laying on the beach in the shade of a coconut tree reading your favourite book... again! You sense someone crossing the sand towards you and as you start to look up a figure is already standing over you, back to the sun. He’s a muscular local guy with wide shoulders, very large black and capable-looking hands and tight red trunks. He smiles at you and says
"you need to be careful in this sun baby, can I rub some lotion into your back?"
You look him up and down, and then down again, and you think mmmm, tempting - but no, too dangerous. You say "no thanks" and turn over and carry on reading your book. Your hear him walking away towards the bar area.

As I tapped quietly on his door, twenty minutes after he left the bar, I straightened my skirt, and ruffled my hair. I’d re-applied my lipstick in the toilets downstairs and made sure I had that extra spray of perfume in just the right places. He took his time to answer, but when he did I could see he’d been waiting nervously. The room looked like no-one had been in it that day. Every cushion on the sofa was in place, the pillows were still plumped and the bottle of wine from the bar remained unopened and the glasses untouched.

She told me what she wanted in no uncertain terms.
“Cock. Hard cock buried right up to the hilt. I want you to make me so wet that I can take a pounding from you with no holding back. I want you to make me come by taking your own pleasure from me. And when I do come, it’s going to be so hard that I’ll milk your cock dryer than it’s ever been milked before. I want a fuck that leaves me feeling fucked for a week afterwards and sticks in my memory for the rest of my life, making my pussy gush and G-spot pulse whenever I think about it.”

I guess it would be fair to say that my girlfriend, Christina, is an experimental kind of girl. I’d never have guessed it when we first met – she seemed so shy – and it took me a month to get her into bed at all. By that time I was hooked – not just from the thrill of the chase but also because she was interesting, quirky and could make me laugh like no-one else ever had before. And once we finally did get into bed, my God was it worth the wait. It seemed like there was nothing that we didn’t do that night: she sucked me for hours, pulling away so I could come on her face; then, unsated, she rode me until she came hard around me, before turning over and proffering her arse in my direction. “Fuck my arse,” she’d begged. Well, of course, I obliged, and when I came it was one of the most intense experiences of my life. She’d giggled as I yelled “Fuck” at the point of orgasm, and said “greedy boy – perhaps later.”

The melancholy wail of the alto saxophone lingered in the air as Ian packed up his sax and left the stage. The audience stayed silent until the last vestiges of the notes drifted away, paying homage to the music they’d been moved by before breaking into enthusiastic applause.

She ran along the platform towards the train, her long brunette hair flying out behind her. If she didn’t make this train, she’d be stuck in the middle of nowhere until the following morning.

This was the type of kiss which sucked your cunt up to your lips, this type of kiss which burnt and hurt and actually raised blisters. Of course I wanted more.