I was something of a late starter sexually, losing my virginity to a rather unpleasant boy at the age of 17. However, I soon made up for it, like one of those toy racing cars that you rev up and then release to watch it zoom erratically away.
Once I’d got going, there was no stopping me. I found out that I really liked sex, and that boys (and some girls) really liked having sex with me. I was rarely monogamous, but in the main completely honest about my appetites and lack of willingness to rein them in. Although I had several one- or two-night stands, it was more usual to have sustained relationships. I had a fabulous time, with only a slight adjustment to my behaviour with the advent of HIV.
That slowing eventually came when I met my husband. At first, our sex life was excellent. We used ecstasy, but also managed to transport ourselves to rapture without drugs. But his love-making became less enthusiastic, then less frequent, finally grinding to a halt about five years ago. It took me a long time to agree to marriage, and my vows are important to me: I have been completely faithful. Once or twice a year I have tried to instigate love-making, but it never seems to go well. He blames me for not wanting to have sex with him. I thought that was unfair at first, but to be honest, I’ve got used to doing without it now, at 55, and am quite happy that we sleep in separate beds. I do hope I will once more experience the joys of intimacy, but at least I made the most of it while the opportunity was there.
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