Dear Diary, I had sex today and it was . . .

Emma

Emma, 23, is single and living in Sydney. She works in the media and is bisexual, though doesn’t classify herself as such. She says she’s simply “nondiscriminatory” when it comes to choosing a sex partner. Emma has had many lovers and several long-term relationships.

Week one

Ryan came over on Friday night and we went out to dinner then stayed up late talking. When we finally got to bed, it was already past 2 a.m. Ryan’s a great friend and a wonderful lover—sensual, erotic, experienced, funny, relaxed. I love that controlled intensity of his. We fuck and it’s good, but I don’t come the first time and he knows this so he keeps touching me until I’m wet again. When he goes down on me, he knows exactly what he’s doing and he enjoys doing it—an extra turn-on. He gets hard again and I put a condom on him using my mouth, which he finds very sexy. This time, when he makes love to me, I come and that makes him come, too. It’s amazing. He sleeps over and when he finally leaves, I ask if he’s got everything (he likes to leave his mark). Of course, he “forgets” a T-shirt that smells of his sweat and cologne and makes me horny, reminds me of him. I think about throwing it into the laundry with my stuff but end up sleeping with it under my pillow.

Later, I seduce myself, thinking about Ryan fucking me and going down on me with that great oral technique of his. Actually, I fantasize about other things, too, but I always like to imagine someone I know once I start to get aroused. It makes it more intimate. I wonder how he’d feel if he knew. He’d probably like to know I was thinking about him.

Week two

I’m in Melbourne on business and I meet Mark, a smart, sexy lawyer at a work function. There’s an instant spark between us, one thing leads to another and I end up back at his apartment, in his bed. (Normally, I would have waited, but I’m flying back to Sydney tomorrow and I just can’t resist!) Like most men, he’s a little impatient and a tad heavy-handed at first, but I manage to convey my base-level requirements for enjoyable arousal and he does a pretty good job of ful- filling them. We fuck—using a condom that he provides—and it’s sexy, athletic, and abandoned. He goes down on me at one stage, quite expertly, and makes me extremely horny. Later, we do it “doggie” and by the time he comes (loudly, which is great—I like his lack of inhibition and sense of theatrics), I’m so turned on that I only have to touch myself for thirty seconds or so and I also orgasm (not quite as loudly, which is probably just as well). We doze, cozily entwined, his hard body against my soft flesh. At seven, far too early, it’s time to go. I leave him sleeping, again a stranger, creep into last night’s clothes and steal away, leaving nothing but a hastily penned phone number and a kiss.

Today I miss Stephen, my ex, once the love of my life. Back in Sydney, I go to see a film by myself and it makes me nostalgic and miss him more. I want a love with intensity. I want to feel that strongly again, to fuck someone I would die for, someone I’d want to get pregnant with. Someone I’d miss. My friend Max calls and he’s sweet and concerned but I don’t feel passion for him. He’s a darling, though, and it will be good to see him. I could use some steadying. I could use some more sex, too.

Week three

I’m at work and a big bouquet of tiny pink roses arrives from Mark. I call to thank him and we arrange to catch up next time I’m in town. He’s great on the phone—he’s got a really sexy English accent—but I shouldn’t think this way when I’m in the office. I can’t wait to go to Melbourne again.

I have spent the last twenty-four hours on a hot date at home. Max came over and we cooked Italian, drank a bottle of good red, and watched a steamy video. It was quite good but I lost attention halfway through when Max took his shirt off. It was a shameless bid for my attention—and it worked. Great body. He used to have a hairy back and a white, pasty torso that reminded me of uncooked bread. But he waxes now, works out, and goes to the tanning salon. He’s too young but utterly charming and seductive, witty, quick, manually dexterous, and great around the house. Kind of a nice package, don’t you think? I was quite happy to go along with everything he suggested (again). I didn’t like anal sex much before Max but he uses his fingers and tongue-fucks my anus and for the first time, I actually contemplated having his penis inside my rectum. It’s very addictive, what he does. Ryan called on my machine as Max was licking me and that was such a turn-on: hearing one guy on my machine saying how much he wanted me while another gives me the licking of my life. Max doesn’t want me as his; we’re just friends who fuck. He didn’t put his shirt back on until 8:30 the following evening. Yum.

Ryan calls, just for a chat. We arrange to go out together next week and easily slip into friendship mode. He’s the perfect escort—polite, sociable, good looking, and he wears fantastic designer clothes. There’s no guarantee we’ll end up in bed together after our date and even if we do, we’ll probably just cuddle and go to sleep. We’re more friends than lovers really. Both of us know we’re not soul mates but we’re extremely fond of each other and I can imagine us being friends for life. If only more men were like him—most want to own you or run away.

Week four

I feel really horny tonight—it’s that time of the month. I get out the trusty vibrator, read some porn to get off, go for quantity rather than quality. It’s fun even though it’s tacky. At least it stops me from climbing the walls, gets the circulation going, and I wake up satisfied. Guys—who needs them?

I’ve always slept with women and can’t really imagine why anyone would write off half the population sexually just because they’re the same sex. So when Natasha and I stay in, cooking dinner, dancing to the stereo, trying on clothes, it’s natural that I start to feel horny. She comes up and starts stroking me and it feels sensual, comfortable, and at the same time, very exciting. Girls having sex is still such a taboo it always gives me an illicit thrill. We kiss and her mouth is so soft, it couldn’t possibly be a man. Both of us are horny but we take it slowly, like two sleepy cats. Going down on her is warm and erotic. As always, it makes me understand how guys feel—it isn’t easy to give good head to a girl! I stop before she comes and she kisses me everywhere. We end up with our legs entwined and come that way. It’s wild and wonderful and the best thing is, when it’s over, we go back to being two girlfriends having a cozy evening. No pressure. No intimacy. I like girls, they have their own special charm, but I don’t fall in love with them.

It’s morning and I’m in Melbourne for the week. I’m at Mark’s, trying to write this, and he’s being very provocative. Later, maybe—or maybe really soon. He’s shaping up rather nicely—lived up to the few phone calls we’ve had and we haven’t stopped having sex since I got here. It’s weird, the more sex I have, the more I need it and the less it seems to matter who it’s with.

My sex life is . . . Exciting and satisfying—although I have my disappointments like everyone else. I know this diary makes me sound like I always have fantastic sex but I think you just caught me at a wild, wonderful time of my life. I guess you would say I’m promiscuous if you counted the number of lovers I’ve had, but I don’t think I sleep around at all. I pick my lovers very carefully because sex is extremely, extremely important to me. It’s one of the most important things in my life and I put a great deal of energy into it. I’m definitely in tune with my body and my needs. Some of my friends say they envy my sex life but I think anyone can have great sex if they just learn to let go, relax, and really listen to what their body is telling them. They seem so hung up on what their lovers will think if they do this or that. I say, forget the lovers, satisfy yourself first!