I was unfaithful last night. All these years I’ve masturbated with my left hand. I had to keep it a secret when I was married. I couldn’t achieve orgasm with my husband, and when I wanted to ride him he was repelled. So my hand and I secretly had our fun when he was out of the room. I got a divorce without tears five years ago, thank goodness.

Recently though, I felt I needed a change. Was there something else I could mount that would give me the same satisfaction? I needed to know. I tried using a towel, rolled into a cylinder, but it squashed under my urgent thrusting. Then I had another idea. I rolled two Cosmopolitans into a cylinder, wrapped a slip around it, and tried again. It moved with me — unsatisfactory. Obviously I needed something firm but soft.

If I could slip a toilet roll onto something like an iron bar it would work, but an iron bar was not the sort of thing I kept around the house. It finally hit me: I had an aboriginal nulla-nulla, or club, brought back by my brother after one of his trips to Africa. It was rounded at both ends, and just the right size. I took a toilet roll, unwound it to three-quarters of its size and slid it onto the club. They were made for each other. The roll fit firmly and snugly around my new love. Now that I knew what was in store for me, I relaxed. I made a light meal, watched the news, and then took a scented bath. With my hair pinned up I lay back in the water, as my fantasies floated around me. I switched on my answering machine and went to the bedroom. I drew the curtains and prepared my vulva for the new experience.

I stripped and sat in front of the mirror. I fondled my breasts and watched the nipples rise. I slipped my hand between my legs and stroked my pussy, First the outer lips, then up to the clitoris. I have a big pussy, so I applied some grease. I spread the jelly all over and worked it in well. Then I walked to the bed and pulled back the covers where my new love was waiting for me. “I’m going to fuck you, baby,” I said as I straddled and mounted it.

I knew it would be perfect. It was elevated, soft but firm, and anchored by the heavy club. I turned on my favorite video movie — the one where a topless waitress brings drinks to five guys in a hotel room. She has enormous, firm breasts and no panties under her little black skirt.

I watched it for a while, moving my pussy from side to side, round and round, then backwards and forwards. I froze a frame where two guys are holding and sucking her breasts while another is finger-fucking her. Two more guys stand with their cocks in their hands, watching and masturbating. I stopped when I came close to coming — I wanted to prolong the ecstasy. Then I lost control. I exploded, my ears rang, my heart thumped, and I felt five incredible contractions pulsing through my vagina.

Like all new loves, I couldn’t get enough of this one. I had him twice that night, and once the next morning before work. I just can’t wait to get home and have him by firelight on the big, white rug. My eyes are steaming at the thought of it.