But something was different, and, whatever it was, Sandy seemed to be the only antidote. When she was nearby, when I could think about her, back there...behind me in the stands, the fear -- if that's what it was -- didn't take hold of me.Superstition? Was that all it was? Maybe. But I had never been superstitious. I'd never cared about mystical stuff; it had always seemed like bullshit to me. I certainly didn't worry about black cats, or stepping on the baseline when I left the playing field.But. It didn’t make any difference to how I thought my mind was going to react to it, I just clamped shut and pushed him back out with my sphincter. I started to cry and begged him to try again, he did, but I just couldn’t relax and he got no-where near putting it in me after that.Again the next time, I was laying on top of him and as we got out of our beautiful 69 and I was as open everywhere as I was ever going to get, I spun round and lowered my bum onto his rock hard helmet.We both held our. More

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