Angela’s Erotic Journal
My name is Angela. I’m 23 years old, and last year I started working for a well known women’s magazine as a junior assistant. Well, I may have a degree in journalism, but everybody has to start somewhere. And just yesterday, after a year of photocopying, cutting and pasting and making coffee for everyone, I got my big break.
Jennifer, the editor of the magazine, called me into her office. At first I thought I was in trouble – she’s one scary lady when she’s angry – but it turned out she had an idea for a new feature, and she thought I’d be perfect for it. The column is going to be called “69 Ways to Give and Get an Orgasm without Penetration”. Well, as you can imagine, after she told me that I could hardly speak for a moment. I’d been thinking maybe a couple of short articles about scatter cushions or something. But Jennifer explained that there are a lot of people out there – men and women – who although they may have a lot of sexual experience, feel that they are not being imaginative enough when it comes to foreplay, and would maybe like to pick up some ideas to help them to please their partner and feel more sexually fulfilled themselves. And that’s my job – to do the research for them. After all, she explained, we can’t go recommending techniques and tips if we haven’t road tested them ourselves. I have to try things out, decide how I feel about them, and then write about it. Simple.
Since you, my future readers, are going to be spending a lot of time imagining me in the altogether in the near future – what a strange thought – I suppose I had better give you some idea of what I look like. I’m blonde – more gold-blonde than real blonde, but still – and I wear my hair in a bob. My eyes are blue/green depending on the light. I’m 5 foot 4, and on a good day I describe myself as slim. At least, my waist is slim, but my arse is a “real handful” as an ex- boyfriend charmingly put it. My boobs match my arse, but at least they are still high and fairly perky. Overall, I’d say I’m fairly happy with the way I look, except of course after a particularly rowdy night out, or one too many boxes of chocolate at Christmas.
So off I go, on a voyage of sexual discovery. I just hope I can persuade Rob, my boyfriend of three months, to join me...
Ok, I have to confess; Iím just not one of your super-skinny women. Iím not a pale, waiflike twig whom other women hate on sight. Iím not a mile high Amazon with jutting hip bones such as you see on the catwalk. I have curves. And not all of them, I hate to admit, in the right places. Although I have to say, I am rather proud of my boobs. And no girl actually gets those through living on celery does she? Letís be honest here.
I hate those first couple of months after Christmas, donít you? The rubbish weather, the Christmas tree corpses on the pavement, and most of all the horrible realisation that this year is going to be just the same as the next. Despite the joyful yuletide, the pretty songs, the change of numbers, everything is stillÖexactlyÖtheÖsame. Including work. Back in the office, still the same grotty desk, the same tasteless coffee, the same whinging person in the next cubicle. Such an anti-climax.
So there we were, speeding up the motorway, on our way to Robís nephewís christening. Well, not speeding; Robís a very good driver, if a little overly-cautious for my tastes. Anyway, it was 8.30 on a Saturday morning, and I was fed up. So there we were, speeding up the motorway, on our way to Robís nephewís christening. Well, not speeding; Robís a very good driver, if a little overly-cautious for my tastes. Anyway, it was 8.30 on a Saturday morning, and I was fed up.
Ah, that was more like it I though, as I sank into the hot, soothing, pink tinted bubbles. Candles, scented bubble bath, and warm, soapy water caressing my body, my hand strayed under the water, down the length of my body, between my legs, I sighed as I began to stroke myself, the warm water making everything feel lovely and soft and wet down there. I lay my head back, and closed my eyes. The water made little slopping noises against the sides of the bath, as I moved my hand faster.
I really think Rob and I are starting to get good at this whole foreplay business now. No longer do we dive under the duvet and go straight for the main course. Rob is definitely getting more enthusiastic about the idea, and even seems slightly less nervous about the fact that our exploits are going to be published in the national press. Maybe thatís because he feels he is getting better at it! Which he certainly is. I never realised sex could be so mind blowing before. And along the way Iím lea
So, things are definitely starting to heat up on the foreplay front between Rob and me. I always looked forward to our dates before, and he was no slouch in the bedroom I can tell you, but now things are truly getting mind blowing. A perfect example Ė last Wednesday night. Let me tell you all about it.
This time I decided it was time to try something a little more public, and on Friday night, together with my Ė still slightly doubtful Ė boyfriend Rob, I headed for a wine bar in the town centre. Nice place; dim lighting, cosy corners, good music , and a great wine list. As usual at the weekend it was crowded with all types of people, and I admit my courage nearly failed me at the door. But I took a deep breath, grasped Robís hand tightly, and plunged in. Miracle; a group of people were leaving,