I felt his buttocks through his jeans. XXX He was short and tubby and his breath smelled of beer and cigarette-smoke. I sort of “dated him” a few times after that but always in a hotel room and always in Amsterdam, giving a new meaning to the expression “lay-over”! “It’ll be easier now,” he said, as he pushed into me again, this time harder and further. We only had handkerchiefs to clean up with but, as we did so, he spoke again,
“You OK?” he asked, with genuine concern in his voice. “Of course not,” I rashly replied, somewhat naively as it turned out; I should have realised what he was going to do next! He had turned down at least two overtures, one of them from my tubby middle-aged smoker, but at this moment
