October 12, 2009

ELIZABETH ROSE

“Nothing great was ever achieved without enthusiasm” – Samuel Taylor Coleridge

My heartfelt thanks go out to the many readers who wrote in with suggestions for finding me a “romantic” interlude. (Sara H. – I shall be following up on your suggestion quite soon. I too have always wondered if vegetarians taste any different). The teacher and I have parted ways since the issue of non-consummation became too much to last a seventh date. Possibly publishing the odds on the internet was also somewhat offputting for him.

This weekend I was watching my beloved home rugby team being soundly beaten by a french club team, and I was reminded of an end to an earlier dry spell.

In my usual social whirlwind of a weekend, I indulged in a favourite pastime of mine – watching sports in an ex-pat bar. This particular time I watched two great nations collide, or more correctly I watched one great nation play the French. (The French team played abysmally so no need for any Francophiles to get upset. In this instance, my comments are actually based on fact and not just my English bias.)

There was a number of the northern hemisphere rugby nations represented in the crowd, France included. The main French spectator being a nice enough chap from Toulouse, we’ll call Stephan. Although I had been introduced to Stephan many times before, I had never really noticed his true potential because on our previous meetings I had always been distracted by a hot Irish rugby player who frequented the same bar (more on him later). Suffice it to say I woke the following morning with a smile on my face and a Frenchman’s cock between my legs (Though at another moment it could have been a Frenchman’s smile between my legs and a cock in my face). His enthusiasm for one of my other favourite pastimes really impressed me and I indulged with this gentleman time and again.

After suffering through a sexless fortnight I had found a kindred spirit: a man who knows how to “play the game”, or at least is playing the same game as I. What I mean to say is that my dear French friend Stephan was just what I was searching for. A man who serviced my needs with aplomb, was punctual for appointments and never attempted to be more (or less) than a drinking buddy whose cock I loved to play with – le coq sportif if you will!

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