I've Found Religion....

....well, I haven't actually and I doubt that even if I had, any of them would take me, but after a weekend which has left me feeling, by turns, confused, guilty and horny, I now at least know how a Catholic priest must feel

I stayed with Proper Boyfriend towards the end of last week and, once more, had explosive sex all over his house. The more I see him, the more I want him - an unusual trend in a relationship, admittedly, but a nice one. And then I kissed him goodbye and buggered off up North to frolic with QIE. I rolled up late and he'd finished a 12 hour day so we didn't do much apart from sleepily take off our clothes and, at some point between his sofa and his bedroom, have sex. It wasn't particularly horny but it was strangely comfortable....him and I, ghostly moonlight pooling on the floor of his flat as we went through the ritual. He knows what to do to me to make me squeal and though he comes quietly, I have (cue poor German accent....) 'vays ov making him talk.'

The next day, he woke up early to go to work and I had the run of his flat. Resisting the temptation to peer through his life contents, I did however use his laptop (with his texted permission) and found a photo entitled

'Hannah Hartley Black Stockinged Fuck,' amidst a few of his daughter, his workmates and an aeroplane backed with a glorious, dying sunset.

It would be facetious to say that you don't know a man until you've been through his hard drive but to be frank, ladies, you don't.....the oldest bloke I've ever loved is my dad and I doubt that he sits there, ostensibly 'looking at his investment funds,' whilst scrolling through Thai Brides, keeping my mum at bay with cheerful replies to her domestic chatter, but it does make me wonder.....(cuts thought stone dead)

He came home at 6.30pm.

'Hey honey, I'm home,' he jested, walking up the stairs, and we kissed in the hall before moving the foot to his hall mirror where we undressed each other. I'm 6'1, he's shorter, his head just in the crook of my chin, his hands on my breasts, us both pressing up against each other, capturing the visuals of the moment. And then to bed, where we spent 90 minutes reacquainting ourselves with each other. He ripped an old shirt to pieces and tied me to the bed, before I, giggling, wrestled myself free and, sitting atop him, gave him the choice of being blindfolded, gagged or tied. His big blue eyes widened in surprise, but it's amazing what a day of flat-bound captivity does to a girl's sex drive. We compromised on blindfold and bindings.

'Christ,' he murmured, through the maze of my hair, 'I've missed you......'