The Sexual Monologues: 3.iv – Emma

Emma is another supermodelesque member of the gang. Strikingly beautiful with a waterfall of dark blonde hair, eyelashes that she could comb into her hairline and eyes the colour of the ocean. A more photogenic human being you could never hope to meet. She is also the one person who can be relied upon to never ever say a nasty word about anyone; even when she has been wronged. In short, Emma is a good soul right down to her beautiful, amazonian core – if you cut her straight down the middle hummingbirds and butterflies would soar out to the chorus of angelic choir music. Which makes this Sexual Monologue an annoying one. Similar to Kelly and Daniel’s story of a love that never was, Emma’s story is one that makes you stand up and say ‘What the fuck? Seriously!?’

Back in her teens Emma had a penchant for a bad boy – who didn’t? (Well, me…I was scared of the peen at this age). If you know anything about Berkshire at all you’ll know Slough is like the dog faeces on the shoe of Windsor. Bonded in the first two letters of the postcode only, Slough is Windsor’s distant, hillbilly cousin. There are many truly delightful people who live in Slough, and who come from Slough. But let’s just say there are a number for truly rotten people who also come from Slough…the kind of people that crawl straight out of the womb and turn to a life of debauchery right off the bat. Believe me, I’ve done the legwork on this – Wasteman Wes was a Slough boiiiii (SL1 Crudem).

So as a good, Windsor girl Emma went hunting for her Bad Boys in the next borough and found gangly, lanky Brad lurking in a sheltered accommodation tower block right in the city centre. What could be more perfect for this middle class teenager than a drug dealer on probation from the wrong side of the tracks? Their opposition to one another excited Emma and she dived in to the ‘romance’ head first.

Of course the romance was decidedly one sided; Emma came bearing fruit baskets and Me-To-You bear gifts while Brad used the teddies to shove against the gap at the bottom of the door to hide his avid weed habit. You can see what kind of give and take relationship this was and it wasn’t weighted in poor, sweet Emma’s favour.

A rite of passage for most teenagers, Emma was fitted with train-track braces. She now has a beautiful, straight smile so it was totally worth the years of silverware glinting from behind her rosy, pink lips. Fresh from the Orthodontist’s chair, Emma had a date planned with Brad in his tower block bedsit so she made her way over on the Windsor and Eton Central train to the very epicentre and hub of Slough’s criminality.

When comfortably wedged between the Asda Smartprice single bedding and Brad’s ultra emaciated body it dawned on Emma that she had not actually mentioned to Brad that she would be getting to his ‘yard’ to ‘cotch’ with her new metallic tooth accessories and he clearly had not noticed. Her mouth was obviously sore, having been poked and prodded for some time by the be-gloved digits of the Orthodontic craftsman sent in to fix her overbite, and yet Brad had failed to pick up on any change whatsoever. She assumed he was flying high as a kite and put her indignance to bed; at this time she genuinely felt like the lucky one having someone of Brad’s criminal prowess bestowing his ‘buzzing’ hours on someone as unworthy as she.

As is like in the rampant youth of teendom, sex soon ensued. After all – what else were Emma and Brad really going to get up to in that hotbox room on the twelfth floor?

Grinding away on this girl beneath him whom he had masterfully manipulated into believing she was totally undeserving of his attentions, Brad chanced to peer down at Emma. It fleetingly crossed her mind as his eyes rolled over her face intensely that he might lower himself down to kiss her, or even tell her how much he loved her, or to compliment those braces he had clearly just noticed glinting like gorgeous silver jewels on her gleaming white teeth. She smiled up at him, encouraging his efforts and faking her enjoyment. At that moment he looked deep into her azure eyes, breathed in as if to deliver a message of significant emotional magnitude and whispered…

‘Yeeeeeah…you’re butters, fam.’

Horrified, Emma lay devastated by the bombshell. He had chosen this of all moments to notice her braces and, at that time, felt it was appropriate to drive in another crippling insecurity. She would have these train tracks glued to her teeth for years and this guy, who was still inside her, had basically just insinuated that they had turned her from ‘ugly’ to ‘offensively ugly’. Inexplicably, he continued to rut away at her as if nothing had happened.

‘Butters,’ by the way, is an offensive term employed primarily by dickhead teenage boys to insult girls. It is a derivative of the equally insulting ‘butt ugly’ which takes a single syllable more effort to say…perhaps this is why the term of offence has been shortened to two syllables – the brain capacity of the user is simply too small to cope with words that take a little longer to say and consist of a few more letters.

To hide her tears, Emma pulled herself away from Brad and his swollen member and decided it would be best all round if she finished him with her mouth. Sore though she was from the tight wires across her mandibles it was preferable to blow him to the end than continue with him invading her intimate space when he had been so unkind.

‘Don’t come in my mouth,’ she prefaced in her usual way. So, of course, what did Brad proceed to do mere moments later? The crime we all know and hate; they come in your mouth anyway.

Sick of the insults, the derogatory treatment and this total lack of self-control Emma decided in that moment to give him a taste of his own salty medicine. She pointed her head directly over him, mustered up every inch of disgust she could and spat his fluid out in propelling energy all over him; it was like a Gaviscon advert where those little animated firemen pour white liquid through a hose on the insides of someone’s pink stomach.

The relationship – if you can call it that – ended shortly thereafter. Brad is probably in prison now rotting in a 6ft cell wearing sliders with socks and smoking spice out of an empty toothpaste tube. Emma, on the other hand, has a beautiful, perfectly straight smile comprised of white teeth and a face that could make you cry with envy at her beauty. I’m sure when he lost her, Brad realised on some level that he was the biggest fucking fool that ever walked the streets of Slough.

So the moral of the story is this: If a man/boy makes you feel like you are unworthy of them, run a mile. Especially if they use rolled up towels at the bottom of the door to conceal weed smoking from their probation officers – this is a red flag of the most blinding variety and women should respect themselves, their vaginas and their mouths more than to waste that good shit on someone who makes them feel like they’re lucky to be probed by them! BUT…if you do happen to fall for someone totally undeserving of you and you feel underappreciated and devalued for the sass queen you are you always have the option to spit their semen back out on them before you walk out of their lives for good.

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