Night sax vedeo
The door to the private five-storey house in Notting Hill is not easily found. But there’s hidden and there’s this-could-have-come-off-the-set-of-Harry-Potter hidden.
They’re definitely attractive, and they’re wearing the most incredible underwear, while one or two catch my eye and cause a hot flush to surge up my neck, no one here is the kind of woman I couldn’t keep my eyes off.
I pull away, deciding I’ve had enough for now, and make my way to kitchen for a refill and to pop a chocolate aphrodisiac ball in my mouth before I wander back upstairs to see what everyone else is up to. And it doesn’t feel dirty or sleazy, as you might suspect. The girl I entered the party with has a smile that invites me in. Interestingly, though some women nail it first time, others need as much guidance as men.
The three bedrooms are now full of women gasping for air and groaning with moans of pleasure. I thought I’d do no more than watch, but before I know it I’m doing things with women that I never thought I’d do in a million years. Which surprises me because I’d just assumed we’d all instinctively know what to do. I say goodbye to the same woman who is the first and last face I see of the night, and step outside to brace the cold, 3am air. Though I clearly find something about women very attractive, I have no doubts in mind that I’m drawn to men and remain heterosexual, but I feel like tonight will help me bring something new and much more free to the bedroom with my next partner.
I breathe a sigh of relief that it wasn’t my hand she was grasping for. This is not a party to turn up to in your safe M&S knickers, that’s for sure. Then a tiny, nymph-like thing prances into the room and jumps onto the coffee table, freezing in an uncomfortable-looking pose, only for her to stay like that for minutes while the hosts rally round to sort out a technical hitch with the music.
The nymph remains statue-like, smile painted on her face.