Buzzing Easter Bunnies Read online

  With my thirtieth birthday rapidly approaching, and working the kinds of shift patterns at the hospital that prevent much socialising, I was beginning to worry that my prayers may never be answered, and that I would indeed leave my twenties unsatisfied... and with cramp in my fingers.

  Then, one night shortly before Christmas, a painfully inserted Ewok entered my life, bringing with it a new hope.

  MATT

  Matt Bunion is many things, but an experienced lover is not one of them.

  On first dates, you usually spend time in stilted small talk, being cautious about revealing too much of yourself too early to the person in question, for fear of scaring them off with your inherent weirdness. Given that I had already removed a Star Wars action figure from young Mr Bunion's rectum, and had administered Christmas Eve first aid after he escaped from the clutches of a mentally unstable prostitute, I already knew he was stupendously weird, so he didn't bother with any pretence when we met in the local pub on a brisk second day in January.

  'I'm a virgin,' he says with blunt and open honesty, over his pint of bitter shandy. 'All of my pre-Christmas insanity can be explained by this one hideous fact.'

  'I see,' I reply carefully. 'And this is why you thought sticking an Ewok up your arse was a good idea? I hate to tell you this Matt, but that's not how you're supposed to lose your virginity.'

  He gives me a withering look. 'It wasn't deliberate, I assure you.' He sighs. 'It was just one of many, many cock-ups I made in my desperate quest to pop my cherry.'

  'Why so desperate?' I ask.

  His face takes on the expression of a kicked puppy. 'I'm twenty seven, Christina!'

  I pick up my Baileys and sip it thoughtfully. 'Yeah, I guess I can see how that might cause a man to do some rather stupid things.'

  'You don't know the half of it.'

  'No. I think it's probably better that we keep it that way if this is going to go anywhere.'

  Oh God.

  Did I really just say that?

  Matt gives me a smile. It's a very nice smile, by all accounts.

  If it weren't for the mass of black hair wobbling around on top of his head, the thick black glasses, and the slightly awkward way he carries himself, Matthew Bunion would be a draw to most women, I'm sure. I almost feel as if I've discovered a rich seam of gold that just needs some of the rough rock around it chipped away to reveal its shining glory. Matt appears completely unaware of the fact that he is actually a very handsome chap underneath all that nerd.

  'I still can't believe we're sitting here having this conversation.' Matt says with a roll of his eyes. 'Usually when I meet a girl for the first time I just stammer a lot and ask her if she likes Star Trek. I've never admitted I'm a virgin before. I'd have been way too embarrassed.'

  I shrug my shoulders. 'I've seen you naked from the waist down and rummaged around in your backside, Matt. I'd say we bypassed you needing to be embarrassed around me some time ago.'

  Matt blushes red and suddenly looks very distressed. 'I wish you didn't know any of that stuff,' he says mournfully.

  Damn.

  I have a habit of doing this sometimes. Being an A&E nurse means feeling absolutely no awkwardness when it comes to discussing the human body. When you've spent most of your working life around bodies of all different sizes, shapes, colours and smells, you tend to forget that for most people, any discussion of human anatomy (especially when it's theirs) can be quite uncomfortable. I don't think my hairdresser will ever forgive me for talking about her vaginal discharge while she put the highlight foils in.

  And now I've embarrassed Matt again by talking about his arsehole, a mere half an hour into our first proper date.

  Damn.

  I'd better do something to redress the balance here. This is currently a very one-sided conversation, with all the humiliating secrets coming from Matt's direction. I need to confide something to him, just to level things out a bit. A man's ego is fragile at the best of times, and if I don't want to scare Matt Bunion off completely, I'd better give him something back.

  'I'll tell you a secret about myself if you like,' I say. 'To make things even.'

  He laughs. 'What? You have some deep dark secret that can compete with me being a virgin and anal Ewok smuggler?'

  I rock a hand back and forth. 'Maybe.'

  'Go on,' he urges me. 'I have to know what it is now.'

  I lean forward and look around conspiratorially. Matt does the same. 'I've never had an orgasm with a man in bed,' I whisper to him.

  He looks non-plussed for a second. 'What's wrong with the bed?'

  I roll my eyes. 'No... I don't mean I've never had an orgasm with a man in a bed. I mean I've never had an orgasm with a man full stop.'

  Matt sits back again. 'Oh,' he says, the light dawning. 'Why's that then?'

  'I don't know. Bad sex I guess?'

  'Every time?'

  'I suppose...'

  He throws his hands up. 'Oh great! So what hope have I got then if I ever have sex with you?'

  I arch one eyebrow in the archiest way possible. Matt catches its sudden archiness and his face blanches. 'Not that I'm assuming anything!' he wails.

  I sip my drink and allow the eyebrow to drop a couple of millimetres. He does have a nice smile after all. 'We've all got things we're embarrassed about Matt, especially when it comes to the bedroom.'

  'Fair enough. Thanks for confiding in me.' It looks like my gambit has worked, Matt seems instantly more at ease knowing that he's not the only one prepared to share his secrets.

  I have to say, I find Matthew Bunion quite fascinating. I have never met anyone so awkward, skittish and naive in my life - but on the other hand he's clearly more intelligent, well-mannered and down to earth that the parade of unsuitables I've hooked up with in the past.

  Maybe it's his total and complete lack of forced machismo. For some reason, most men seem compelled to play up their alpha male qualities as much as is humanly possible. I suppose there must be some Darwinian hunter-gatherer reasoning behind this, but it quite frankly makes my teeth ache, and I'm royally sick of it. Matt displays none of these characteristics, so I'm more than happy to see past the virginity and slight lack of social skills to the man underneath. He's got rough edges, but I'm sure I'll be able to smoo -

  Oh God.

  I've turned into one of those people, haven't I?

  The type of person who wants to change someone right from the get-go; a control freak who isn't happy until their significant other wears the right clothes, attends the right social occasions, and doesn't speak out of turn at dinner parties.

  In other words, I have become almost every man I've ever dated.

  But what choice do I have? Matt is clearly in need of a little education, whether I want to provide it or not. If I don't give it a go with him, I'll be forced back onto the open market, which means I might bump into another Fuck Face. This will ensure an unsatisfactory sex life for years to come, until my untimely death on the end of a malfunctioning vibrator.

  I decided a month was about the right amount of time to leave before curing Matt of his virginity problem.

  Judging from his pre-Christmas exploits it was probably a good idea to break him in gently. If I'd jumped him too early he might have put me in the same category as the coffee table fiend, or the Cliff Richard obsessed hooker, and run a mile.

  As it was, he managed to keep his nerves in check quite well on the following three dates we went on together. There was a slightly dodgy moment when I rested a hand on his knee in the cinema though. Thankfully the wild yelp of surprise he let out was muffled by Bruce Willis shooting someone with a machine gun, so we were spared any angry glances from our fellow movie going patrons.

  It's an exquisitely strange sensation to be the one with the upper hand at the start of a relationship. I don't quite know what to do with it. I'm so used to being the twitchy one, that suddenly finding the tables turned in my favour is quite disconcerting. It's also rather empowering, so I'm not
going to complain too much.

  Matt wasn't complaining either, when I invited him to my house last Saturday night for a takeaway. This was the first time I had invited him to my place - where we would be alone, and close to a double bed. From the way his eyes bulged I could tell that the prospect of this excited and terrified him in equal measure. 'What would you prefer? Indian or Chinese?' I asked nonchalantly.

  'Well...er, um, erm, er, um...' he replied helpfully. I folded my arms and sat back on the pub chair, knowing full well that this could take some time. Matt looked quite adorable as he sat there mulling over the difficult choice I'd presented him with. I think it was the way his hair bobbled about as he vibrated with indecision that made me smile more than anything. Either that, or the way he kept looking to the heavens for inspiration, with a slightly pained expression on his face.

  Men really do lose their minds when the prospect of sex is on the cards. Doubly so when they haven't done it before, apparently.

  Eventually I had to put him out of his misery. 'I think I'd like Chinese,' I said.

  The hair bobbled up and down again, this time in rapid agreement. 'Yes, yes, yes, yes. Chinese sounds good. Very good. Chinese.'

  It wasn't very good. It was decidedly average in fact, but I was starving after a busy day at work, so I shovelled in the chicken chow mein with gusto. Matt's mind was on other things, so the quality of the food didn't seem to bother him either. I'm fairly sure I could have plated up some fried cardboard and he wouldn't have noticed.

  He does notice when I snake a speculative hand into his lap during Doctor Who though. It's testament to the power of sex that even a huge sci-fi geek like Matthew Bunion can be completely distracted from his favourite Time Lord by the attentions of a speculative hand. Okay, he does insist on Sky plussing the silly programme before concentrating on me completely, but we'll let him off because it's his first time.

  Ten minutes of sofa kissing later, I'm ready to take things up a notch.

  'Let's go upstairs,' I whisper in Matt's ear.

  You know that thing dogs do when they're getting tickled on the tummy, and their back legs start to twitch? Men are much the same when you whisper into their ear.

  I once got taught in physics that the speed of light is the fastest thing in the known universe, but in actual fact there is something faster: Matthew Bunion on his way up to my bedroom to have sex for the first time. I follow him at a much slower pace and close the door softly behind me when I reach the room. Matt sits on the bed and starts to look around nervously. 'This is a nice bedroom,' he says. 'Got lots of character.'

  In fact, my bedroom is resolutely beige and contains just a king sized bed, a white wardrobe, a bedside cabinet, and a rubber pot plant on the window sill that I can't seem to kill, no matter how many times I forget to water it. This is a rental property, so there's no point in stamping my identity on it. I'm hardly ever here, thanks to how many shifts at work I'm having to do to pay for the place, so the minimalist look is fine by me.

  I go over to the bed and sit next to my nervous date, taking his hand in mine, and kissing him gently. At first it's rather like kissing a shop dummy, but after a few moments Matt starts to relax, and things get a lot more enjoyable for the both of us. While Matt may be a virgin, it's plain he's had plenty of experience at foreplay, given that after five minutes he's going at it like a trained professional, and I'm flushing red from some very exciting neck nibbling.

  'Wow. For a guy who says he's never had sex, you certainly know your way around a woman's body,' I gasp rather breathlessly as one Bunion hand runs its way up my thigh.

  ...and that will be the last time I refer to any part of Matt's anatomy using his surname. Nobody needs the visual image that my description of a 'Bunion penis' would create.

  'I've had lots of practise at this bit,' Matt replies, neck nibbling again. 'It's the next section I've been having all the trouble with.'

  'Then let's sort that little problem out right here and now, shall we?' I tell him and start to unzip my jeans.

  Mere moments later we're both naked.

  This is where things grind to a halt somewhat. Matt sits back from me on the edge of the bed and starts to squint around the room.

  'What are you doing?' I ask.

  'I'm checking for signs of catastrophic masonry failure.'

  'Why exactly?'

  'Well, something's got to go wrong, hasn't it? You're naked, I'm naked. There is absolutely nothing I can think of right now that would stop us actually having sex.' He looks up at the ceiling suspiciously. 'Therefore, some kind of unexpected disaster must be about to strike.' His eyes widen. 'When's the last time we had an earthquake?'

  I lean forward. 'Nothing is going to happen, Matt.' I take hold of his penis in order to assuage his fears. 'Now, stop worrying and come here.'

  I pull Matt down on top of me and wrap my hands around his tight little bottom. I have to admit there's a small part of my brain listening out for the sound of cracking brickwork, but I try to put it out of my head.

  This task is made all the more easy when Matt slides into me with minimal effort. It's amazing how having an erect penis inside you can stop you thinking about anything, other than what it feels like to have an erect penis inside you.

  I look up into Matt's eyes, which portray a look of stunned disbelief. 'Blimey,' he says.

  My brow furrows. 'Blimey?' That's a little underwhelming, you know.'

  'Sorry. I'm sure I'll sound more excited shortly, I'm just so amazed to be actually doing this that I think I've temporarily short circuited my brain.'

  I give the side of Matt's head a playful slap. 'Then disengage your brain and start thinking with a lower part of your anatomy.'

  Matt grins, kisses me, and starts to move his hips in a manner I find to be quite delicious.

  Amazingly for a virgin, the sex is not over in three seconds flat. In fact, Matt starts to build up an extremely pleasurable rhythm that is as heart-stopping as it is unexpected. My breath starts to come in sharper and sharper gasps as his pace increases, and I suddenly find myself unable to formulate much coherent thought.

  Could it be? Could it possibly be that I am about to have my first orgasm with a man? With a man who is having sex for the first time?

  It certainly feels like it, as Matt gets faster, and starts to grunt in my ear. I let out a moan and throw my head back as another wave of pleasure hits me.

  I can feel it rising... rising...

  This is going to happen!

  I'm going to cum!

  I'm going to have an orgasm!

  I'm going t -

  Oh fuck it!

  Matt lets out a loud startled cry as I feel him ejaculate.

  No! No! No! I was so close!

  But my silent protestations are for nought. Bunion has gone from a thrusting sexual dynamo, to a limp dishtowel in three nano-seconds flat. He flops down on top of me with an exhausted sigh. I try hard to contain a moan of disappointment.

  I shouldn't feel this way of course. It's the poor lad's first time. What exactly was I expecting?

  Nevertheless, I have come closer to a meaningful orgasm today than I have for years, so it's rather hard to ignore the deep sense of frustration as Matt slides off to one side and rolls onto his back, exhausted from his exertions.

  To be fair to Mr Bunion, the subsequent crying is not entirely unexpected.

  When you've spent most of your recent life obsessing about losing your virginity, it's understandable to get a bit emotional when it finally happens.

  'There, there,' I say comfortingly, with an arm around his shoulder.

  'Sorry,' he replies, wiping his nose. 'I'm just so relieved.'

  'Not a problem. I completely understand. I felt much the same way after I passed my driving test.'

  Matt looks at me speculatively. 'How was it for you?'

  'Well, I thought I got a bit out of control on the parallel parking, but the instructor didn't seem to notice and passed me anyway.'

&nb
sp; 'I meant with the sex we've just had,' Matt replies, in an slightly exasperated tone.

  Ah, the moment of sexual feedback. Always an inevitable part of a new relationship.

  I affect what I like to call my expression of plastic happiness. It's the one I invariably end up trotting out whenever a man asks me that very question. 'I enjoyed it Matt,' I tell him, rather blandly.

  'Did you... did you? You know... '

  Now, at this point in the past I have lied easily. To stroke the man's ego, I have usually gone completely overboard and proclaimed it to be the best orgasm I've ever had, citing his enormous girth and expert technique for the reasons behind my extreme sexual gratification. Anyone thinking straight would have known I was lying, but a man who has just expelled his seed is often not the most astute of creatures, and will take whatever you say at face value, providing there's a cup of tea and a nap coming in the near future.

  With Matt though, I feel like lying would be a betrayal somehow.

  This is quite disconcerting. There may be more going on here than I first realised...

  I shake my head and give him a lop-sided smile. 'Not this time, handsome. Sorry.'

  His face immediately darkens. 'I'm the one who should be sorry.'

  This is a sweet gesture, but entirely inappropriate. 'Don't worry about it, Matt. This was just the first time. I'm sure we'll have plenty more opportunities to sort my little issue out, now we've dealt with yours.'

  The prospect of further sex lightens Matt's mood considerably - as does the cup of tea and nap he takes shortly afterwards.

  I have to kick him out at eleven o'clock though, as I'm up early for work the next day.

  'So, when can I see you again?' Matt asks on the doorstep as he is leaving.

  'Next weekend?' I reply, knowing that I'll be wiped out from four upcoming twelve hour shifts anytime before then.

  'Great!' he replies, and leans in for a kiss.

  After we've locked lips again for a few moments, a look of such heartfelt gratitude crosses his face that it actually makes me feel more embarrassed than I was when confessing my lack of orgasmic experience to him in the pub. 'Thank you again,' he says. 'For, you know, sorting me out.'