The Bodybuilder and the Family Friend

It was a last minute night, you know the kind of night when you call your bestie and say you need gin?

We gathered at my place for a few G&T’s then decided to head out for dinner, not before going to one of my favourite bars for Espresso Martinis.

Espresso Martinis make me sexy – fact.

After 2 of my sexy making drinks, I headed outside to smoke, it was 7:30pm. I got chatting to the doorman, a delicious, muscular, bearded tall man. S seemed kind, well spoken, and authoritative. He was flirting with me! Me! The plus size, espresso stained blondie! Huzzah.

At the time I thought nothing of it, my mind was elsewhere, specifically what I was going to eat later.

After one more drink, we left. On my way out, I pulled S aside and gave him my number, he said he would call, I assumed he wouldn’t and I would never be able to drink and my new favourite haunt again.

My friend and I headed to the restaurant, I pulled out my phone and had a message waiting from S.

When we were having dinner, my aunt called me to let me know my cousins (I use this term very loosely, they are not cousins, but family friends… please remember this!) were in town.

J & T (the family friends) are festival men, they are free living hippies, both permanently tanned from a life outdoors, crazy hair – a dreadlock here and there, weird tattoos, piercings and a few scars, but incredibly good looking men. Charismatic and wild. Most nights I have spent with them after family meals have ended very early in the morning after chemical help and deep chats.

Tonight was different, as soon as I saw T, I just knew something was going to happen between us. It’s never been sexual before.

We went for cocktails, then on to a weird little bar where J & T delighted us with pole dancing. Long story short, we ended up at my place.

As soon as we were in the door, we all stripped off. The pairings were natural R(Bestie) with J, T and me…

For some reason in my cocktail fuelled haze, I thought now would be the perfect time for a bath. It’s 2am and the bathroom is next to my flatmate/landlords bedroom. Needless to say, we woke him up. Maybe it was the sound of water sploshing all over the place, maybe his stifled groans and murmurs, or more likely my orgasmic crescendo followed by filthy slurs.

“TGD, you have woken me up, and I am NOT happy” He’s Scottish, and it sounded like the man from Gladiators. He wasn’t happy.

Fast forward and the party moves to my room, a swingers-esque type vibe. A lot of fun.

The following morning I woke up to find 4 pairs of feet sticking out of my kingsize bed, and the dread sets in. I kicked the boys out, and set about finding my flatmate… he’d gone out. I text him to apologize (bear in mind I have lived with him for 3 weeks, in this pristine flat) he didn’t reply.

I had to meet another friend for Sunday lunch, on my way home I bought 6 cupcakes for my flatmate with the intention of begging on my knees for forgiveness.

I arrived home and sheepishly opened the door, he was home. I threw myself at his feet and pleaded for mercy. It’s 4 weeks from this incident and I think he’s starting to forget/forgive…

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