This is Karim’s story. A very polite, nice, friendly, sorry young man, TOY BOY, I met him in December 2004. My original one. Speaking as someone who has been around the block a few times and met several (a lot, actually) bumps in the road, this * boy * is one of the most decent men I have ever met. A special one.
I just returned from Edinburgh after a long and lively weekend, watching South Africa play Scotland at Murrayfield.
Fell of the Train
I fell off the train from London into the living room and into the arms of a 42-year-old South African investment banker. With the body of a rugby player. Blue eyes, short brown hair. Def my type. I was strong and deep in my sexual haze. What resulted was a 9 1/2 week scenario of illicit sex, weekends in bed, in hotels, countless texts and exciting. Big time. But I dug. It’s been a week since I met Karim.
Saturday Night Dinner
It was Saturday, December 5th (night is the deepest engraving in my memory). I had just had dinner for a few friends. Not having to call him at night, my friend and I got in a taxi and headed for 151. It was quite late when we arrived and we were both happy after God knows how much champagne and wine. We both wanted a party. I was staring at the edge of the dance floor, looking pretty aimlessly at the dance crowd when it appeared. Smiling. Looking at me. Did he refer to me? He approached me and we started talking.
The Immediate Attraction
The attraction was immediate. Fraction of a second. We immediately wanted to be alone, so we found a quiet meal and were immersed in each other surrounded by a haze of cigarette smoke and alcohol … … It was adorable. About 5 ”10, dark hair, pale skin and quite well built. It’s not amazing. Just gorgeous. Superb as a person. I liked him and I could hardly wait for him to go to sleep. But I felt he was in control. I felt like a younger, inexperienced girl, like a child with an older man. He was old beyond his years. Strange.
GF is Alone
We leaned over that table and talked and flirted until my gf ruined our moment by saying that she is alone and wants to join us. Damn it. K, being a gentleman, got up, took a chair and a drink and chatted politely. He invited us to go back to his High Street apartment. Ken Now told me that he is 24 and a student at LSE. Hmmm … I thought a little old. Student? 24? It should work. And the apartment was sublime. And great! How did he pay for it? Rich Tatic (yes) Anyway, more importantly, conveniently, he had a Finnish male partner – useful to talk to my gf, leaving K and me in the kitchen to “pour some drinks”.
The drinks took ages to materialize. We were kissing wild and in a semi-nude state. Already. But he was right. He told me “Tonight I will have the best sex of my life.” My self was everywhere. It was so flattering. He was very insistent. We couldn’t get our hands off each other. Bored Gf wanted to leave, so K, not wanting to leave me, escorted us (bless!) Back to my house.
7 in the Morning
More drinks .. blah blah blah … GF leaves at about 7 in the morning, when K takes my hand and in bed and undresses me. It was very sexy and, we understand that, for someone so young (she was 22 not 24. she learned it, but I found that out only a year or so later!) She was so confident and knew exactly what she wanted. For me it was wonderful to let him take over the task. Needless to say, sex has stifled.
It was fabulous. He was very knowledgeable about a young man and didn’t have many girls, or so he claimed. When he finally decided to leave – it was dark again (!) He told me “I’m not done with you yet, SG” I liked that. So master! He was in charge, but he should have called for my fires. Surely?
A few weeks later he met a part of my family over a drink. They loved him. Good spoken, well dressed, polite, good manners, just great to have around. I dragged him (well, not exactly) home, sat on my couch as I went and changed into the sexiest AP sex. I went into my living room and he almost fainted. Go over the details and quickly before a few months we met again. Only then did he admit that he lied about being so young that he thought I would not consider myself a 22-year-old.
Hello!! Silly boy, silly. Of course, I would have considered you. Who cares about age for God’s sake? This was a great trip to the ego. But this is funny. 22. To me, he is so young. It means immaturity and living wild (ie who I was at 22 and even in my 30s / 40s). But he behaved, looked and talked like an old man. Speak slowly, carefully