Before Mr Right, the 16 Mr Wrongs

By Suzanne Edwards

Suzanne Edwards listed four categories where Mr. Right had to “qualify”.
First, she had to fancy him at one hundred per cent. Second, she needed one hundred per cent success at lovemaking. Third, she had to be one hundred per cent in love with him and he would have to be one hundred per cent, her best friend. Several of the first sixteen candidates scored as high as 370 out of 400 and one or two scored very badly but she just felt that there was someone out there at four hundred out of four hundred, and she was ruthless in her quest. Sometimes she thought that she had found ‘The One’ but each time the lover in question would fall by the wayside. Fortunately Suzanne recognised warning signs very early and reacted very quickly, without any self-recriminations or pangs of conscience. She would use her sexuality blatantly to attract men she thought she ‘fancied’ and wore clothes that emphasised her best physical features. She would treat men as sex dolls, discarding them for a new toy with scarcely a glance back. She allowed herself to be treated as a sex doll……when it suited her, even going back for sex to the ones in that category, whilst in another relationship.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Aug 13, 2023
• ISBN: 9798823083768

Suzanne Edwards

Suzanne Edwards is a linguistics graduate and currently lectures at a Further Education college. Her previous books include Sicily: A Literary Guide for Travellers and Andalucia: A Literary Guide for Travellers.

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© 2023 Suzanne Edwards. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or

transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse  08/11/2023

ISBN: 979-8-8230-8375-1 (sc)

ISBN: 979-8-8230-8376-8 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2023913030

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Contents

Chapter 1:     Philip Fenton

Chapter 2:     Donnie Barratt

Chapter 3:     Karl Hall (a.k.a. Vaux, Who Managed a Vauxhall Car Dealership)

Chapter 4:     Richard Woodford

Chapter 5:     Germany

Chapter 6:     Martin Stevens

Chapter 7A:  Jonathan Robertson

Chapter 7B:  A Crossover Period

Chapter 8:     Steven (Steve) McCool

Chapter 9:     Jude Priest

Chapter 10:   Denny Jackson

Chapter 11:   Buddy

Chapter 12:   Stevie Dicks (a.k.a. Mac)

Chapter 13:   Spencer Burman

Chapter 14:   Vernon Morgan

Chapter 15:   Martin Stevens’s Reprise

Chapter 16:   Jeremy Keenan Restorick

Chapter 17:   Alan Patrick (a.k.a. Mr Right)

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Chapter 1

PHILIP FENTON

M Y FIRST SEXUAL ENCOUNTER CAME with my first proper boyfriend, Philip Fenton. I met him at a family party in a small group of teenagers in which I knew one girl. So I just attached myself to her. There were several boys in the group, but Philip was chatty in a very nice, relaxed way, and not your usual cheesy chat-up-lines type of way. At the end of the evening, he asked to see me again. He told me he regularly went to a youth club disco and asked if I would like to go with him. So it was arranged. The following Friday we met up at said youth club, and I was introduced to his circle of friends. This included three boys who I really did fancy. For a couple of weeks, I struggled to decide which of the four to make a play for. However, Philip made the first move and asked if he could take me out to the pictures. I was thrilled to be going on my first proper date.

We had to get there on the bus as Philip didn’t drive. The anticipation of what was to follow definitely raised my pulse rate for the whole ten-minute journey.

Of course, we did not get to see a huge amount of the film for the obvious reasons. The first kiss had my heart pounding and my knickers wet within seconds. Philip was a very fast mover, particularly on a first date, and his hand tried to find its way to my breasts. I was not particularly well blessed in that region and gently resisted. However, I became more and more aroused in the realisation that he wanted to touch me. I slowly guided his hand downwards, not too obviously as to be thought sluttish. He responded equally slowly, which had me almost screaming with desire. I opened my legs just enough for his hand to reach the lower part of my knickers. His fingers gently stroked the outside of them, over my mons veneris. As they brushed against my clitoris, I had my first ever orgasm. I wanted to scream out loud, but I managed to contain myself to just rapid, heavy breathing in his ear.

On the way home, I wondered how good it would be when he actually touched me inside my panties.

From that day on, I felt as though I was now, truly, a woman. In truth, I was fifteen years and two months old.

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I did not know whether I was undesirable to girls or if I was just too choosy. My school was boys only, so this meant I was probably rather stilted in my approach to girls to whom I was attracted. However, as a grammar school boy, I was fortunate to have the kind of education that gave me the social tools to treat girls in a gentlemanly way.

I was fortunate enough to be at some kind of family gathering where I met Suzanne Edwards. Her friend introduced us, in the little group of teenagers who had gravitated to a quiet corner. Our friendship, which very soon became a relationship, started there and then. Before the end of the evening, I had plucked up the courage (I was quite a shy chap) to ask Suzanne if she would like to come to my local youth club disco. She said, Why not? So over the next few weeks, it became a regular occurrence and she mixed well with all my friends. Three of my mates all made it obvious they fancied Suzanne, and I became desperate to get her alone for a night. So I suggested a date at the local cinema. To my delight, she agreed.

I was seventeen and in the Lower Sixth at the boys’ grammar school, and Suzanne was in the Upper Fifth at the local girls’ grammar school This I felt put us on something of an equal footing intellectually. We got all the pleasantries out of the way on the bus journey to the cinema. On the way up the stairs to the mezzanine, one of the tickets fell out of my hand. Suzanne went three of four steps ahead coincidentally (I hasten to add) as I bent down to pick it up. It was then that I got a closer look at what she was wearing. Her legs were adorned with trendy, black, over-knee socks so there was a lot of bare leg leading up to a very short, predominantly white, tartan kilt. With a split, which came in very handy shortly afterwards. A very expensive-looking, white, silk blouse finished the look. For one so young, Suzanne looked very sophisticated.

When the lights went down, we got down to the amorous side of things. The kissing was very natural, about which I was extremely relieved. I had not had a huge amount of experience in this department, but we just seemed to click at the first one. Encouraged by the increase in her rate of breathing, I slid my hand as casually as I could towards her silk blouse. I was immediately rebuffed. Before I had time to be disappointed, she kept hold of my hand. Slowly and deliberately, she guided it through the split in the kilt and into the small gap between her knees. As she opened them out a little, I could not believe my luck. Encouraged by these subtle moves, I slid my hand up the inside of her left thigh. She did not stop me, even when I reached her panties. She was now breathing very heavily in my ear, and my manhood responded with what I swear was the biggest erection I had ever experienced. I slid my hand slowly and very delicately down the outside of what felt like very expensive satin knickers. As my middle finger brushed over the clitoral region of her femininity (on the outside of her panties!) I swear she had an orgasm. She managed to contain her apparent ecstasy to extremely rapid breathing and almost imperceptible guttural grunts. It was enough for me to unload into my shirt-flap and underpants in one of the best, albeit somewhat accidental, orgasms I had ever had. Quite an eventful, if somewhat messy, first date. It took me a few weeks to confess to her about it.

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My first ever orgasm, and he had not even touched me. Well not directly, just through my favourite satin knickers, which were so moist I had to take them off in the ladies’ a few minutes afterwards. Philip had gone to the gents at the same time, ostensibly to urinate. I found out from him weeks later he too had had an orgasm, much messier than mine. By then of course, I had already exercised, several times, the power I had suddenly attained.

Over the next two or so years, he and I were together whenever we could fix it, which was almost every day. We would study together, spend time with each other’s family, etc., and for me our sex life was excellent. I achieved an orgasm at every sexual encounter for the first six months. However, I was unable to bring myself to allow any form of penetration. Mainly because, apart from my age at that time, a little over fifteen, I thought my vaginal opening was too small for anything to enter, even an eyebrow brush. And yes, I did try one, a very thin one, but unsuccessfully.

Fortunately for me, Philip was very patient and understanding and was happy to try a number of sexual techniques. These all involved no penetration, and we would give each other orgasms using progressively more adventurous techniques. We pursued our sexual experiences into a variety of environments. A favourite of mine was a walk-through between two main roads where, for the first time, we were walking home from school. Halfway down the pathway, he pulled me behind a tree, whipped my brown, flannelette, school knickers down in a flash, and that was all it took. The spontaneity and the outdoor location meant I came instantly and thunderously. Luckily no one was passing because I did make a lot of noise. My reaction, of course, had Philip’s manhood up to its magnificent best. It was the only one I had seen since an I’ll-show-you-mine-if-you-show-me-yours naughty dare. A nine-year-old classmate, who lived next door, had shown me his prepubescent shrimp. I fleetingly showed him what a girl looked like inside her knickers. Very naughty! Of course, the difference between that tiny, limp worm and this five-inch, solid statue of manhood was impressive, and a little terrifying. Later encounters in my life showed him to be just half an inch or so below average. But to me, aged fifteen, it was huge and was going nowhere near my tiny vaginal opening. Anyway, our alleyway encounter was so thrilling. I only had to put my hand around this rock of manhood and my first touch had a fountain spraying the nearby foliage. So exciting.

Philip and I would use any and every opportunity to have our versions of sex: cinema trips, our favourite walk-through, and babysitting evenings. (Imagine being paid to have sexual fun with your boyfriend.) Anyway, for me to achieve an orgasm was easy because my head was so into him. I was to discover much later how important head sex was, when I encountered other paramours.

The first time Philip had felt comfortable to try out cunnilingus on me was a revelation. We lay on our backs, naked (except for my T-shirt!), on the carpeted lounge of a babysitting client. He lay on top of me and kissed me passionately on the lips, then suddenly on my nipples (through my T-shirt). He still had not seen or touched my breasts, till now, and they were as hard as thimbles and about the same size. Next he kissed my navel and eased my knickers down and off. I held my breath, half in the wondering and half in anticipation, and yes. One kiss on the upper edge of my pubic hair and then a very, very gentle kiss on my clitoris, and I almost fainted through hyperventilation. I was rescued when his tongue drew a slow and deliberate circle around my clitoris. He slid the very soft underside of his tongue slowly and delicately downwards. The tip of it slipped just onto the edge of my vagina, and I had the most amazing orgasm ever—at the time!

The pulsating of my vaginal walls and my anal sphincter were the strongest so far. I could not contain myself. I made noises, not too loud to wake the baby but significant enough to have Philip’s manhood at its biggest. He was seconds away from coming when I turned over, straddled his face with my very leaky vagina. I ran the underside of my tongue just once, up against the most sensitive part of the underside of his penis. The semen spurt was so strong it went in his eyes. Oh, how I laughed. A laugh that disappeared very quickly when we heard a car pull up onto the drive, an hour earlier than Mr and Mrs Williams had said they would be back. Luckily, I had locked the front door, but it was a close shave.

It was the first and last time I used my tongue on him, but at the very next opportunity to have sex (our version still), Philip pulled another ace out of his pack. When I had straddled his face, I had no idea about soixante-neuf. I had just wanted the novelty of my tongue on his unit as soon as possible. The realisation that my bottom was right in his face added to my arousal, and it gave Philip the idea to try his own version of it.

He chose for this second session a time when we had my house to ourselves. My parents were at a formal business dinner and would be home late. I quite fancied being comfortable for a change, so I took his hand, led him slowly up the stairs and into my bedroom.

I could see this action alone had had an effect on him, from the bulge in his trousers. I moistened slowly, and we both began very deliberately to undress each other. (I kept my T-shirt on!) As I tried to get his boxers over his protuberance, I created some hilarity, but this did not dampen his ardour. I was about to lie on my back on the bed when he grabbed me and kissed me long and hard. He pressed his throbbing unit against my abdomen, causing another emanation from my vagina. Then he turned me round and dragged me against him by thrusting his arms under my armpits. He took care to avoid my tiny boobs (I was still insecure about them) and rubbed his solid penis up and down the space between my bottom cheeks. I almost came right then. No sooner had he grabbed me than he let me go, pushed me gently towards the bed, and said, Kneel on the bed on all fours.

My mind was reeling. What now? He then positioned me with my knees apart and my back hollowed so my vagina burgeoned beautifully (his words). He proceeded to drive me insane with desire. He licked me all around and all over my swollen and already slightly lubricated vaginal area. His tongue was like an artist’s fine, sable paintbrush, and with delicate strokes, he used his nose to nuzzle my anal sphincter. This was the trigger. I flooded his tongue as I climaxed more strongly than ever and with more love juice than I had ever secreted in a month of orgasms. He told me to stay put and to continue to display my bits. He then rubbed his penis in the gap between my bottom cheeks again, and the lubrication I produced had him coming in seconds. Whoa! Chain reaction! As I felt his hot semen spray all up my spine, I had a second explosive orgasm and, as there was no one home, screamed the place down!

(PS: About ten years later, having been married for a little while (not to Philip), this position became a firm favourite with my husband who would say to me, Any chance of a Philip Fenton special tonight? He knew that the question alone would have an effect in my panties.)

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The next two years were the best two of my entire life in terms of excitement.

I was in a meaningful relationship and developed an education in sexual techniques, up to a point. I discovered very quickly that full penetrative intercourse was a long way from being achieved as Suzanne was phobic about what she saw as the tiniest vaginal orifice on the planet. (She even told me about the eyebrow brush!) So I had to take my pleasure in as many other ways, which kept her happy, as possible. Therein lay the education. Suzanne was very receptive to other techniques, and I can honestly say I don’t think I ever failed to give her an orgasm. If I did, then she was a great actress.

I found out very quickly she liked spontaneity, so one day, on the way home from school, I guided her down a tree-lined shortcut between the main roads. I had steered the conversation towards a sexual topic as I knew this would turn her on. Halfway down this little-used footpath, I dragged her behind a tree, whipped her school uniform knickers down (skirts were very mini in those days, especially hers), and she came almost instantaneously without me even touching her. Her orgasm was so seismic that within seconds of my opening my zip and struggling to get my penis out, she had grabbed it, stroked just once, and sprayed a very pretty shrub nearby with my jetlike semen.

Our first two efforts at oral sex (the cunnilingus version) were both at my instigation and were a huge success. The excitement of novelty and spontaneity got almost premature ejaculation from both of us.

The first cunnilingus session happened at a babysitting session for a regular client. The children were quite young and never woke up while we were there. This meant we could be relaxed about our sexual escapades. We would often undress each other, which turned us both on. On this occasion, we lay on the lounge carpet and I lay on top of her. We were kissing normally at first, and Suzanne warmed up very quickly. She became passionate and kissed me deeply and even hungrily. I pulled back for a second and eased myself lower, kissing her T-shirt where her nipples were protruding. A first. I continued my slow expedition downwards, kissing her navel once and the top edge of her wispy pubic hair once. I reached my destination and spent a delicious few seconds exploring her vaginal area with my tongue.

I would have liked to have been there longer as it was another first for me. It was one I wanted to savour as it sent me dizzy with excitement. However, it obviously made her feel the same because she came after about three seconds of my tongue and my nose working on her bits. I was on the edge of coming myself when she flipped over, in all innocence, into a soixante-neuf. I told her the name of the position a little later and explained the inference. She straddled my face with her vagina almost on my nose and ran the underside of her tongue, just once, up against the most sensitive part of the underside of my glans penis. The semen spurt was so strong it went into my eyes. She laughed and laughed.

This spontaneous move of hers led me, the next time we got the opportunity, to my getting her to kneel on all fours on the edge of the bed. I told her to think about a happy cat: head up, back hollowed, and knees apart. This made access to her vaginal area so much easier, and the vision of her burgeoning vaginal area got me so close to coming, just from looking at it! I used my tongue on her clitoris and labia, but I also used the tip of my nose to open out her anus just a little. Another first, and so, so erotic! Seconds after I had given her one of the best orgasms of her life (her words), I ended up shooting semen up her spinal curves almost into her hair. My best orgasm to date. The warm sperm on her back gave her a second massive orgasm, within just a few seconds of her first. (Could that have been a double?) I know the orgasm happened as I was looking directly at her anal sphincter, and it throbbed for an age. She screamed her pretty head off—not a common occurrence due to circumstances.

What a sixteenth birthday party that was!

Suzanne and I were best friends as well as lovers, and I