One night stand inin Magaluf

There’s something compulsory about going to Magaluf, shagging somebody random and never seeing them again.

My friends and I booked to go for the bank holiday for some sun, sea, potentially some sex, and stayed in an all inclusive resort sipping sangrias all day by the pool. We hit the strip after sunset. It’s cheap, tacky, but that just makes the experience double the fun, and we’re in and out of places downing free shots so we don’t have to buy drinks when we reach the clubs.

I’m spinning when we get to Bananas.

Feeling good.

And then comes Cillian.

He’s tall, muscles everywhere – I’m convinced even in his cells – and when he talks it’s… in an Irish accent. He’s on a stag do. Dressed as a captain.

He smiles down at me. Tucks a piece of hair behind my ear.

“Thanks.”

“It was blocking your beautiful eyes.”

“Red flag,” Kelsey says to me as we go on inside. “Probably says the exact thing to other girls.”

“So?” I say as we’re waiting for the bartender to make our drinks. “It’s just a shag.”

We grab our drinks, head to the dancefloor and dance until we’re breathless and in need of a break. We exit the club, Kelsey lights up a cigarette and we alternate taking puffs.

Cillian and some of the men from his stag filter out. He’s the best looking out of all of them. He steals the cigarette from my hand and takes a drag himself, looking up at me as he does so, cheekbones popping. “What’s your name?”

And so we get chatting. That Irish lilt… I could listen to it forever.

“Fancy coming back to my hotel room?”

He lives five minutes away. He holds my hand, leads me down the strip and off down one of the side streets to his resort. All I can say is… I hope they made those walls soundproof because I’ve never screamed so much during sex in my life. He goes down on me, kissing and swirling his tongue in circular motions. Feeling the corners of my vision edging away, the pleasure building tenfold, I pull back and guide him into me.

Dirty talk in the Irish accent… I could listen to that shit on repeat.

“That’s it, darling.”

“Don’t stop, darling.”

So I decide on the next girls holiday that we’re all going to Ireland.