Position...Position...Position...

I once went out with a guy who had one very skinny leg...

His other leg was the right fatness. I asked him once why it was so skinny and he told me he didn't know what I was talking about- but I think he must have had Polio or something when he was little and just didn't want to tell me about it.

It didn't bother Me that be had a gammy leg; he always wore jeans to hide it anyway- but I have always wondered why he was in denial over it. That- and the huge scar on his back that he also wouldn't tell me about, but was obviously the result of some very major surgery- it looked like someone had star-picketed him...

The first night that I met him was at a nightclub- where we were introduced by a mutual friend. He'd only just finished Year Twelve, and I'd turned nineteen a few months earlier- my eldest Son was about seven months old from memory. He offers me a lift home in his parent's Volvo and sweetly kisses me goodnight when he drops me off, and we arrange to meet tomorrow- after he finishes swimming training.

The next night I decide to surprise him by showing up unannounced- but I was the one who ended up being surprised. He's angry that I've turned up and asks me to leave because the Squad is in training for the National Titles- and it is only Then that I notice that all of the swimmers are disabled in some form; some are amputees and others have Down-Syndrome and Cerebral Palsy. I figure he's uncomfortable so I leave. We never discussed why.

A week or so later he takes me to a birthday party of a girl who he went to school with. He introduces me to all of his friends; all of them are fresh out of high school with no children or responsibilities. He leaves me to chat with the girls because all of the boys have congregated on the other side of the garage. The girls are sipping their Twist Tops cautiously; like they've never tasted beer before. Their conversation is childish still; and not one of them can handle their grog and all get drunk fairly quickly. One of them starts crying about a boy and is giving me a headache- so I ask if we can leave soon; I don't really care where we go as long as it's a pub.

He decides to go home first- to change into his night-clubbing clothes or something. I'm pretty drunk by this stage, too; and I haven't had sex for months- the last time had been with my Hubby when our baby was about four months old and I hadn't seen him since. So I was a Free-Agent. See?

I roll around on the floor with him for a while; we're just kissing and stuff. And then he Positions me...

I'm trying to get into it- I really was- but he tells me to lay still. Obviously my movements below him are putting him off his 'stride'; so to speak. I start to whistle under my breath; trying to communicate my boredom- this is by far the most boring fuck I've ever had- but he still continues poking into me; like I am a hole in the floor that he's doing push-ups on.

His face is deadly serious; he's concentrating like mad while I'm starting to think I've picked Myself up a virgin. I start to laugh a bit; and he goes 'What?' and I say 'Nothing; it's really just Nothing'- meaning that I was getting Nothing out of this experience. But he takes it to mean that nothing is wrong- and continues plugging away at it until he shudders and collapses in a sweaty heap.

After we got dressed I pleaded a migraine and he drove me home- and I never saw him again after that. I ignored his phone-calls until he got the hint.

And it had nothing to do with his skinny leg whatsoever; he was just a really lousy Lay and I never wanted to repeat the performance.

That's all.