Veena/Friday, 21st April

Had a nice cuddling session last night. Almost as if Phil really believed in what we were doing. He was really attentive, cuddled up to me spoon fashion, kissed the back of my neck and worked some magic on my various bits with his fingers. He was very erect behind me and I could feel him thrusting at my bottom, which added to my excitement, but once I’d finished and turned round to help him, it sort of faded away. A sort of Lone Ranger deal, where you save the town and then gallop off without accepting any thanks.

Come to think of it, he felt more like Silver than the Lone Ranger actually.


Major embarrassment of the day - started bubbling in class. Not too bad, because I managed to muffle it behind a tissue with a pretend sneeze. We were doing Shakespeare’s Sonnets which have a tendency to set me off.

Tommy Carter was reading -

‘When my love swears that she is made of truth,

I do believe her, though I know she lies,

That she might think me some untutor’d youth,

Unlearned in the world’s false subtleties.’

Tommy’s a good-looking lad with a strong reading voice. He should take up acting. I’ve never seen him turn up at any of my drama club’s gritty productions. I’ll talk to him. Maybe have a word with careers guidance as well, hate to see talent going to waste.

Phil/Thursday, 20th April

Strange reaction from Shorty last night. No kisses, no cuddles, nothing. From searching for the G-Spot to total zilch. Is this hormonal or just female perversity?

We were talking about wives at work and MacDonald said he’d fancied Veena something rotten for years. All the other guys chimed in and said, yeah, Veena was a bit of all right.

Not to get too big-headed, because various other wives got the thumbs up, but I do believe I’ve got the tastiest missus out of the whole gang of us.

The less attractive wives weren’t mentioned, out of a sense of gallantry, but I’m sure their husbands got the message, poor bastards.

There’s more to love than looks, boys!

Spent a lot of the evening looking at Veena. Fair enough, she’s no supermodel. She’s petite, with short black hair. She wears specs, has bouncy little tits and a perfect bum.

I like her.

Veena/Thursday 20th April

Roddy didn’t have a tummy ache last night but there wasn’t a problem. We just said ‘good night’ to each other, ever so politely, turned over and went to sleep. Well, I did, I have a vague recollection of Phil taking an age to settle.

Roddy decided to have his sore stomach this morning instead, so I made a doctor’s appointment for the

afternoon. Dr Adams poked around Roddy’s middle, which Roddy found ticklish, and announced that he couldn’t find anything wrong. Fancy!

He will make a consultant’s appointment at the Western.

Roddy is concerned that hospital visits may interfere with the hectic social life he has planned for the summer.

I assured him that by the time he reached the top of the Western’s waiting list he would be 83 years old and wouldn’t have much of a social life left.

Phil has been in a strange mood since he came home from work. I keep catching him looking at me. Is this guilt? If I deprive him will he fly into someone else’s arms? Or was he flying into someone else’s arms previously, which is why he was depriving me?

Who is this someone else?

Phil/Wednesday, 19th April

Jesus Christ Almighty, now she wants me to try and find her G-Spot.

This was last night, lying in bed. I told her I was a construction manager, not an explorer, but she didn’t seem to find that particularly funny.

“It’s okay,” she said, playing the wee coquette, “It’s only manual exploration. Fiona will allow it.”

“So I’ve heard. Is she not going out with a vet?”

“Not up there, silly. There.”

She was leading my hand astray.

“Listen, Veena, this is stupid.”

Her cute little face turned to fire. “No it’s not. You just don’t want me investigating my sexuality.”

I turned away from her. “I’m done with investigating. Exploring is for wee boys. Anyway, I’m knackered.”

She hauled me back round again. “You’ve got the stamina and the perseverance of a sloth.”

“I’d check with David Attenborough before I made statements like that. There’s an entire species there you could be denigrating.”

She smiled at that and snuggled into my chest. “Just try for a little while.”

I started exploring again. “How will we know ...?”

“Oh, I’ll know. Kate said ....”

“Bloody Kate! Can the woman not take up knitting or something.

One minute it’s find the bloody clitoris, then it’s find the greater spotted female orgasm.”

Through little grunting sounds she said, “Well you did eventually, didn’t you. A bit to the right please.”

I manfully probed away for another few minutes. “My finger’s getting sore. Are you sure this thing actually exists? I’m sure I read somewhere ....”

“Quiet!” she barked. “There! Harder!”

“Listen, could you not find it yourself, and sort of give me general directions. It would save a hell of a lot of time.”

Her breath was coming in little short bursts. “Can’t. Finger’s too short. Keep going.”

Pains were shooting up my forearm. “My hand’s going numb.”

With my free hand I prised her thighs apart and pulled my damaged hand away from her.

“No!” she wailed, grabbing for it back. “I was almost there, I’m sure of it. Something was happening.”

“Aye, my hand was going to drop off through lack of blood. Listen, don’t fret it, we’ll try again sometime.

Your birthday maybe.”

Veena/Wednesday, 19th April

Phil is a pig.

I wrote that first thing this morning. I’ve calmed down now.

I phoned Fiona this afternoon, just for some reassurance. Seems I’ve been playing this totally wrong. I shouldn’t be encouraging Phil, I should be playing the ice-maiden. We’re supposed to revert to our teenage years, yes, but I’m supposed to be guarding my precious virginity and fighting him off, not defying him to get more finger in. What Fiona doesn’t know is that it never happened in reality.

From the moment I decided Phil was the one, I have offered him no resistance at all. Yes, I’ve snogged a few guys over the years, and played a bit of touchy feely, but Phil’s the only one I’ve done the full dirty deed with.

I probably stand out like a mutant in this day and age, but that’s the way it is.

So, if Phil does get the horn through denial, and I then start fending him off, the poor bugger’s going to be even more confused than before, and the chances of him achieving a solid erection, like he used to, fall to zero.

I didn’t tell Fiona this, which I suppose was wrong of me. I didn’t want to be stigmatised as a woman who’d never slept around.

So, what do I do tonight? There are several options-

(a) We both turn away from each other and fall asleep, like any ordinary night.

(b) Phil’s horny and comes on to me and I play along. (Throwing Fiona’s therapy out of the window.) (c) Phil’s horny and comes on to me and I knock him back, denting his confidence totally.

(d) I am horny and come on to Phil and he knocks me back. (Is he just obeying Fiona’s instructions or does he no longer love me, as I have suspected for some time?) This doesn’t bear thinking about.

Just thinking it is terrible, but I hope Roddy’s got a sore tummy tonight.

Phil/Tuesday, 18th April

Well, young Roddy threw a spaniel in the works by deciding to have a sore gut and wanting to sleep with his mammy, so I was demoted to his room.

Considered indulging myself in some manual petting on a solo basis (permitted by Frau Fuhrer Buchan as far as I know) but decided it wouldn’t really be right in the kid’s bed.

Had a very strange dream, and I want to get it down on paper before it flees from memory.

There was a girl I fancied at primary school, Sheena Gray. She had orangey brown hair, a hint of freckles on her cheeks and an upturned nose. We were 10 years old and it was first love time, frantically trying to be with each other, but denying it to all our mates to avoid a slagging. I desperately wanted to do something to her, but I wasn’t quite sure what. I haven’t thought about her or seen her in over 25 years, since my dad moved us away from Knightswood.

I don’t know what brought her to mind, maybe it was sleeping in Roddy’s bed, we’d have been about his age.

Anyway, she wasn’t a kid anymore, but a full-blown woman, walking down the street. I was driving past, saw her, and slammed on the anchors. I jumped out of the car and walked up to her. She cocked her head to one side a little and lifted an eyebrow, just like she used to when I tried to get her into the garden shed.

“Sheena?” I asked, and she nodded slowly.

“It’s me, Phil.” I was practically jumping up and down.

“Phil?”

“Phil Wilson. I was at school with you. Primary school. Knightswood. Didn’t have a moustache then”

She nodded slowly again, I could see her eyes racing back to the time. She’d grown into a stunner with long legs and a lazy smile. In reality she was just that slice above pretty, but a woman who knows she’s got it, and

all the more horn-provoking because of it.

Now her face broke into the lazy smile. “I remember you, you used to try and kiss me all the time.”

I grabbed her hand. “Yeah, and sometimes you used to let me.”

She laughed and pulled me towards her. “You’ll be wanting a shag then?”

That’s it. That’s all there was to it. Nothing happened. I woke up. But it was something sexual and I’ve dutifully noted it down.

I had an erection that was harder than the Chinese alphabet.

Veena/Tuesday, 18th April

Fiona’s celibacy dictum seems to have the blessing of the fates. Roddy wanted to come into our bed as he had a sore tummy, so Phil went through to Roddy’s room. Phil didn’t have my trim, sensuous body to tempt him, much to his relief, no doubt, and I got a full night of Roddy’s elbows and knees. But he felt fine this morning and went off to school.

Half day at work, so had long lunch with Kate. Wanted to talk to her before complaining to Fiona. Kate says this ‘Beyond The Beast’ therapy is frightfully effective. The ‘forbidden fruit’ bit is so obvious to us, but men just don’t understand it because they’re such babies. It doesn’t take much to get them to revert to their teenage years of groping, fumbling, and desperation.

“Expect a permanent stiffy and premature ejaculation!” Kate announced proudly, which was a bit awkward as

we were just being served our soup at that very moment. It was only a pub lunch but I could swear the barman reddened.

Kate then went on to reel off some anti-man one-liners she’s obviously been saving up.

Here are the ones I remember -

Men are like lava lamps - fun to look at, but not all that bright!

Men are like snowstorms - you never know when they’re coming, how many inches you’ll get, or how long they’ll last!

Men are like cement - after getting laid, they take a long time to get hard!

I laughed like a drain. Kate is in charge of herself, no doubt about it, and it’s all down to Fiona, so I’ve got to give her some trust.

Kate has found her G-Spot.