‘Interior’ by Edward Le Bas, by courtesy of the Trustees of the Tate Gallery, London (photo Rodney Todd-White)
For copyright reasons this edition is not for sale in the U.S.A.’
The above is the the only piece of text that I have ever read whilst someone is having sex with me.
I was seeing a boy for a period of time whilst at university. He came to visit and I’m not sure exactly how we got there, but we ended up having sex with my head within reading distance of the book I had thrown on the floor, which happened to be
Howards End
.
Now, I did not
try
to read the book. It was just there. As the sex was going on for some time longer than usual I was beginning to get a bit bored. I was used to 30 seconds at the best with this boy. Maybe it was my head turned to the side, clearly engrossed in the blurb of this book that helped him carry on for those all-important extra few seconds.
Needless to say, this boy wasn’t particularly special or important to me. I told my friends and couldn’t play a game of ‘I have never’ without one of them announcing on their turn: ‘I have NEVER read ANY PART of a BOOK whilst having sex.’ And I would duly finish my wine.
If you find yourself on your back, your vagina full(ish) of penis and you’re looking for something to do – not necessarily to distract you, just to fucking excite you for a few seconds – I would highly recommend having a book nearby, and afterwards sacking off whoever has just penetrated you and settling down with the book instead.
Stone of Tears
The last house that I lived in while I was studying at university had four floors. The kitchen was in the basement, and when I had a day free I would go downstairs, make a huge pot of coffee, sit at the table and chairs that we had down there and read my book.
I liked sitting in the kitchen. It was less lonely that locking myself in my room, and I did not have to go far to make some toast, or refill my coffee. I could also smoke down there, in a little nook by the window, which is where I liked to sit.
After finishing the last few pages of
Wizard’s First Rule
, I quickly moved on to the next book in the series,
Stone of Tears
. I loved being downstairs in the kitchen, about to begin reading a huge book, knowing that all I had to do all day was read. It was fucking glorious.
I lived with three other people. They were all pretty used to finding me sat in the kitchen reading and drinking coffee. Once or twice, one of the boys would join me. He’d sit reading comics and I’d sit reading fantasy epics.
On this day, though, everyone had already left the house before I’d got to the kitchen.
I must’ve sat there for about four hours reading, interrupted only by a couple of piss-breaks when I heard the front door go and someone stomping into the lounge above my head. I could hear the voices of the girl that I lived with and her boyfriend. The door down to the kitchen was propped open, and so I could hear the conversation that was happening.
Her: ‘I’m sick of her, I’m so fucking sick of her. I can’t believe you kissed her.’
Him: ‘That was a long time ago, I don’t fancy her.’
Now, I’d got off with this lad about a year before he started seeing this girl. Were they talking about me?
Her: ‘You do fancy her, I can tell. I can tell you want to fuck her, I’m not stupid. I’M NOT FUCKING STUPID. I see you looking at her. What the fuck do you like about her anyway? Her tits? HER FUCKING TITS? I’m sick of it. Fuck her if you want. Go on, go and fuck her. She’s probably up there now reading some fucking shit about fucking dragons or dinosaurs or WHATEVER THE FUCK IT IS THAT SHE FUCKING READS.’
Yep, they were talking about me.
Him: ‘I don’t fancy her. I kissed her once.’
Her: ‘You
did
fancy her though, didn’t you?’
Him: ‘…’
Her: ‘I fucking knew it! I FUCKING KNEW IT. I FUCKING HATE HER AND I FUCKING HATE YOU. Go and fuck her, GO ON. I DON’T CARE ANYMORE. I.
For copyright reasons this edition is not for sale in the U.S.A.’
The above is the the only piece of text that I have ever read whilst someone is having sex with me.
I was seeing a boy for a period of time whilst at university. He came to visit and I’m not sure exactly how we got there, but we ended up having sex with my head within reading distance of the book I had thrown on the floor, which happened to be
Howards End
.
Now, I did not
try
to read the book. It was just there. As the sex was going on for some time longer than usual I was beginning to get a bit bored. I was used to 30 seconds at the best with this boy. Maybe it was my head turned to the side, clearly engrossed in the blurb of this book that helped him carry on for those all-important extra few seconds.
Needless to say, this boy wasn’t particularly special or important to me. I told my friends and couldn’t play a game of ‘I have never’ without one of them announcing on their turn: ‘I have NEVER read ANY PART of a BOOK whilst having sex.’ And I would duly finish my wine.
If you find yourself on your back, your vagina full(ish) of penis and you’re looking for something to do – not necessarily to distract you, just to fucking excite you for a few seconds – I would highly recommend having a book nearby, and afterwards sacking off whoever has just penetrated you and settling down with the book instead.
Stone of Tears
The last house that I lived in while I was studying at university had four floors. The kitchen was in the basement, and when I had a day free I would go downstairs, make a huge pot of coffee, sit at the table and chairs that we had down there and read my book.
I liked sitting in the kitchen. It was less lonely that locking myself in my room, and I did not have to go far to make some toast, or refill my coffee. I could also smoke down there, in a little nook by the window, which is where I liked to sit.
After finishing the last few pages of
Wizard’s First Rule
, I quickly moved on to the next book in the series,
Stone of Tears
. I loved being downstairs in the kitchen, about to begin reading a huge book, knowing that all I had to do all day was read. It was fucking glorious.
I lived with three other people. They were all pretty used to finding me sat in the kitchen reading and drinking coffee. Once or twice, one of the boys would join me. He’d sit reading comics and I’d sit reading fantasy epics.
On this day, though, everyone had already left the house before I’d got to the kitchen.
I must’ve sat there for about four hours reading, interrupted only by a couple of piss-breaks when I heard the front door go and someone stomping into the lounge above my head. I could hear the voices of the girl that I lived with and her boyfriend. The door down to the kitchen was propped open, and so I could hear the conversation that was happening.
Her: ‘I’m sick of her, I’m so fucking sick of her. I can’t believe you kissed her.’
Him: ‘That was a long time ago, I don’t fancy her.’
Now, I’d got off with this lad about a year before he started seeing this girl. Were they talking about me?
Her: ‘You do fancy her, I can tell. I can tell you want to fuck her, I’m not stupid. I’M NOT FUCKING STUPID. I see you looking at her. What the fuck do you like about her anyway? Her tits? HER FUCKING TITS? I’m sick of it. Fuck her if you want. Go on, go and fuck her. She’s probably up there now reading some fucking shit about fucking dragons or dinosaurs or WHATEVER THE FUCK IT IS THAT SHE FUCKING READS.’
Yep, they were talking about me.
Him: ‘I don’t fancy her. I kissed her once.’
Her: ‘You
did
fancy her though, didn’t you?’
Him: ‘…’
Her: ‘I fucking knew it! I FUCKING KNEW IT. I FUCKING HATE HER AND I FUCKING HATE YOU. Go and fuck her, GO ON. I DON’T CARE ANYMORE. I.
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