My favourite non-alcoholic winter beverage is Ribena served hot. I know, it’s a strange thing for a woman to be obsessed with hot Ribena but there is a story there my precious. Oh what a story.
Like most things do it all began at a sex party. I was invited by a guy I had met online and straight away upon meeting him and his breath I knew it was a non-starter. The party was slow despite the usual veterans bragging about previous exploits whilst looking nervously to make sure that no called them out for lying. There was no real wet fantasy making talent. Oh, if you believed the men in the room they were pros who could put Justin Slayer and Lex Steel e to shame. But you learn to figure out the BS from those with any potential. At this rate there would be no action for me which is sad because it’s a waste of a good ensemble and all that pre sex prep. I wasn’t a happy bunny. No really, I was dressed as a bunny.
Additionally being a word of mouth party it was decidedly more amateur than one would have liked. For starters it was in a 2 bedroom flat. Hardly room to swing a cat let alone a whip. This was the party where I first learned what jeggings were as some girls had not gotten the dress to sex memo. I was just about to make an early ‘still could catch the tube’ exit when…I spotted him.
He was a tall hot brother in the kitchen corner who had managed to slip past my beady eye. Think a young Tyson Morris hybrid but more lean. I must have been distracted by the veteran tale of him and 2 women on a bucking bronco.
Now there are rules to sex parties and one is that women generally approach the men. The other is that you don’t hang around when you see something that hot cos it won’t be around for long. The vultures were circling. So I went over, moved the amateur vultures to the side and discovered that he was a sex party virgin. No pontificating or gesticulating wildly about past adventures he said he was just here to observe. Shrugging nonchalantly I settled in for a chat and somehow managed to persuade him to get involved. He was 23, worked in fitness and was a very, very quick study. Surely it would be remiss of me and a shame for him not to have the full sex party experience.
So, partied out, it was time to head home and he offered me a lift? Bless him, he really didn’t know how safety etiquette worked at all. I felt it only right to accept the offer and explain the ins and outs of the sex scene for his benefits. I know my precious, I’m a giver.
Hours later I was thanking the sex goddesses for this random blessing ( he was very blessed) plus we were uber dehydrated so I offered him a drink. He said he didn’t drink any hot drinks or juices. Huh? I wasn’t to be defeated. I am not the best hostess but no one leaves my place without a drink. What would my African ancestors say if they heard about this? Eventually he said he loved hot Ribena. That night I could only give him water but the next day I went out and bought the family size bottle of Ribena.
And so began our pattern of meeting up for hot sweaty sex followed by cups of hot sweet Ribena. The sex died a natural death as let’s face it he was 23 and had a tendency to sulk. But the Ribena has stayed with me heating up many a lonely night. So, a toast to Ribena and the young men that introduce you to it. To Ribena!
© Chelsea Black
