‘So you’re OK with us just being casual’ I said as I took a big gulp of ‘instant’ coffee. Not something I would ever drink, the cheap bitterness soured my mouth as I swallowed, and I struggled not to spit it out.

He nodded at me. ‘Yeah, it’s fine. That’s all I was looking for anyway.’

I felt like I had to drive the point home – just in case. ‘Great. But I just want to make sure we’re both on the same page here: we’re going to shag and nothing else – right?’

He nodded again. ‘Absolutely.’ Then he grinned at me. ‘Although that arse of yours will get a thorough spanking next time I see you.’

My pussy throbbing at the thought of it, I smiled back at him, but continued. ‘I look forward to it; that sounds fun. And that’s what I want right now; I’m not looking to get into anything deeper at the moment.’

I watched his face for a response, and as I did, I realised that what I had said was profound: a statement on my life; on my current wants. He smiled at me and I thought about how I had arrived at this conclusion.

Over the last year, as well as fooling around with various men, I fell for someone who didn’t want me, and was smitten by another who was unattainable. Meeting these men made me realise that I did want to be in a relationship, and have something special, and be in love, and all that malarkey. I did want to settle down and partner up: I am no longer in denial about that.

But while I processed this, my head was a bit messed up. I felt lonely and wondered if I would ever meet someone who made my heart leap, and I, his. And I spent nights alone in my bed, where even a wank didn’t make me feel better. I dwelled on my single status and self-analysed to the point of destruction, about why it was that I still hadn’t met that special man. Forget whips, my internal method of self-hatred and constant criticism was enough to flagellate myself.

I felt crap and it took some strength in resigning myself to not wallow in my own self-pity. So I began to talk myself into having hope. Believing that I would meet someone, that out there in this fucking desperate, depressing, lonely city that I live in, is a man who is meant to be with me; someone who will knock my socks off; someone who rocks my world. Who will spark my mind, nurture my soul and sate my desires. And to whom I can do the same.

And so, with recent upheaval in my life and now, new positive things on the horizon, I finally feel happy with where things are at; excited about what lies ahead. I finally like being single; I am once again enjoying the possibilities it brings me.

It may be selfish, but right now I don’t wish to have to focus on another’s needs. I want to explore, experiment, discover endless possibilities; I want to focus on my pleasure and well-being, not someone else’s. I don’t need the heartbreak from a man that doesn’t want me; I can’t deal with the head-fuck from a man I can’t have.

I have resigned myself to the belief that I will meet someone – that he is out there somewhere and that serendipity will make our paths cross. But until then, I just want to have some casual fun. So there I was, sitting opposite a nice bloke, who was funny, interesting company, sweet, reasonably intelligent and who fucked me more than substantially, but I had absolutely zero interest in developing things with him: there was just no spark.

I realised he was grinning at me and waiting for me to break the silence. Throbbing at the memory of a few hours before, I debated asking him to lick my pussy again, but I was due to meet a friend and time was short.

‘So you’re cool with us just fucking?’ I asked.

‘Of course’ he replied. ‘But I’m not really into that whole fuck-buddy thing.’

My heart sank and I waited for him to continue.

‘Just so long as when we meet up, you’re mine for the evening and you’re comfortable with going out to dinner, having some good conversation and my grabbing your arse when we walk down the street, then I’m completely cool with us both fucking other people.’

I laughed. ‘Excellent.’

‘And,’ he continued, ‘I want to be able to fuck you all night long when we do get together.’

I smiled at him. ‘That goes without saying.’

He reached over the table and grabbed my hand and stroked it. The action touched me, but felt insincere, wrong, far too intimate.

I fixed him with a steady gaze. ‘Look, I need you to know, I’m not going to be intimate with you; I’m not going to massage you all night, or stroke you softly, or lie in your arms cuddling you, sorry.’

He shrugged.

‘It’s just that I don’t need the headfuck, OK? It’s easier to be casual if there’s no emotional ties; intimacy is for a relationship – I’m not looking for that right now.’

‘So you said’ he replied, somewhat shortly.

‘And you’re OK with that, right?’ I asked. ‘Because we both have to be wanting the same thing, or someone will get hurt and I really don't want that.’

‘Come here’ he said, and stood up away from the table.

I pushed back my chair and walked over to him. He pulled me close and I felt his cock pushing against my robe.

‘Look’ he said, firmly, ‘I think you’re fucking gorgeous. I really enjoyed last night; I want to fuck you again very much.’ He pressed his erection against me to emphasise the point. ‘But I know what this is, and its fine with me; I am going to fuck other women too; let’s just have some fun and enjoy ourselves.’

Relieved, I relaxed into his arms and we kissed for a while. Reminding me about the time, he pulled away from me and gave me a light spank on my arse as I walked into the bedroom to get dressed.

‘That arse is mine’ he said as I re-emerged a moment later, adjusting my crumpled dress. ‘Next time, I’ll be leaving marks on it.’

I laughed. ‘Good. I look forward to it. And if you buy that strap-on you liked, my arse won’t be the only one that's hurting when we next meet.’

His face lit up in a wide grin, and I gave him a quick peck on the cheek as I opened the door and slipped out into the early morning fresh air.