A Search for Love


    Someone once wrote, “A woman has to kiss a lot of “toads” before she finds a Prince.” I guess I’m one of those “toads.” I’m patiently waiting for the right woman to kiss me before I find “Love.” 

    My name is Matt Matthews. This is my story.  In 1980, I was the number one disk jockey in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania.  I was twenty-eight years old. I was the on a fast track professionally. I made a good salary. I had great digs. Life was perfect.  I never had trouble getting women. Everyone told me, I was better looking than the average guy.  Needless to say, I had what could be described as a great personality.  That explained my success in the broadcasting industry. 

   I discovered this personality gift during my first semester at college. I was a communications major. The university I attended had a campus radio station. I auditioned.  I was given an “On the Air” slot three evenings a week. After a month of doing a request show, my personality began to blossom. The station management got so many complimentary comments on my performance; they moved me to five nights a week. The word spread. The radio station broadcast to the community as well as the campus. A manager of a commercial FM Station happened to tune into my show one evening. He called me when I got off the air. He inquired if I would be interested in doing a rendition of the campus show on weekends at his station. That was my first commercial broadcasting job. I was only a freshman in college. Over the next three years, I became known as one of the best DJ’s in the greater Boston area. In my senior year, I had three offers from commercial radio stations. I took the best offer. It turned out to be in Harrisburg. That was five years ago. I knew that this was my calling in life. It was what I was destined to do. I had everything. Life was great.   


   Then one day it happened.  I was sitting at a traffic light in my new expensive sport car, minding my own business and WHAM!  I was hit from behind.  For a moment, I didn’t move. Although, I felt a sharp pain go up my back.  I just sat there confused. I was wondering what I should do next.  That’s when Debra came into my life.  She was standing outside my car looking in through the window at me. I rolled the window down. 

    The first thing she said was, “I don’t have any insurance.”  

    That didn’t make my back feel any better.   

   “The accident was my fault. I’ll pay for the damage in monthly installments.” 

    Through my pain, however, I did take note that Debra was a beautiful woman. Like most beautiful women, they have this knack of getting away with a lot more than the average.  She gave me her name, address and phone number. We went on our way.  

     I went to the doctor the next day.  He diagnosed my condition as “Whip Lash.”  He put me into one of those collars that keep your head from moving. The doctor said under no circumstance should I lift anything that would put a strain on my back and neck. He reiterated it may take up to a year for the back and neck to completely heal. The doctor also prescribed a muscle relaxant. The only thing the medication did, in my opinion, was make me sleepy. So, I discontinued taking it after a few days.  

   Now at this time, I was seeing several attractive women. Women would call me while I was on the air. All of the women that I was seeing had their own little sexual specialties. 

    There was Donna. Donna was brunette and extremely well built. Donna loved going down on me. I would no sooner show up at her house. She would begin undoing my pants and knelling down in front of me. The intensity of the orgasms, I would experience with Donna’s oral manipulations, was incredible. Although some of the other women would perform fellatio on me, none of them was in the same league with Donna. 


    Then there was Carole. Carole was a beautiful red head. She introduced me to anal sex. After we had sex one evening, she looked me in the eye and said, “The next time we have sex, I want you to do me anally.” Every time we had sex after that, Carole would insist that it be anal. Although several of my other women engaged in anal sex, none of them seemed to enjoy it as much as Carole.  

    One beauty name Kathy was of Polish extraction. She had blond hair, blue eyes and was a great lover. Kathy would do everything in the Karma Sutra. 

    I would divide my time among these and several other women. At that time, my philosophy was “variety is the spice of life.” Then I made a big mistake.  

    A few days after the accident, I called Debra. I asked her to have dinner with me. It was under the guise of discussing the terms of her paying me.   Of course, that was just a pretext to get to know her better.  I couldn’t get her out of my mind.  After that dinner, I moved Debra to the top of my dating list. I began to see her on a regular basis.  Now, as everyone who is reading this knows, that may be equated to stepping into relationship quicksand. I was sinking fast. My initial sole purpose was to add Debra to my stable of women. I wanted to discover her sexual specialty.   

   I had developed a technique of getting women in bed. But none of those tactics seemed to work with Debra. One evening, after a night of wining and dining her, I took her back to my apartment. After she had several glasses of wine, she became mildly intoxicated. I managed to move her to the bedroom. I deposited her on my bed. This is it,” I thought. “I’m going to score. Boy was I wrong. I managed to get her panties down. I passionately began to kiss her thighs. I moved to her vagina. She was showing signs that she liked what I was doing. I concentrated on her clit.  She had an enormous orgasm. I moved up on her, but she closed her legs. She refused to allow me entrance. My first thought was she liked what I had previously done. I moved back down on her. She was experiencing enormous pleasure. Her legs were open wide. Her clit was swollen from my massaging it with my hand.  My tongue titillated her vagina folds. I felt confident; it was just going to be a matter of time before she allowed my manhood to find its mark. Once again, I moved up to mount her. Once again, she denied me entrance. I finally asked her, “Is there something wrong?”

   “I want to save that part of our sexual experience until later. I want it to be at a time when we have more of a commitment.” 

   Then she pulled up her panties. She went into the bathroom. After a few minutes, she came out. She requested that I take her home. 

    It goes without saying; I was as frustrated as I have ever been. She was the most difficult challenge I had ever experienced in all of my twenty-eight years. She would let me go so far, but refused to give me satisfaction.  I was frustrated and mildly angry. I packed her up. I took her home. What I didn’t know at the time, she was playing a game for higher stakes.