I’m fascinated by powerful, interesting women who might be described as sexual adventurers. “Sarah R” is a petite, fair-skinned descendant of an Anglo- Saxon family. Rumour has it the family DNA has a sprinkle of native American on top. She knows exactly what she wants from life and from sex, almost to the point of magical manifestation.

She lives near Guadalajara, Mexico, for part of the year, to write and house-sit. She talks about the power of desire, and the type of lover she craves. She likes younger, brown-skinned men, with hairless, fit, athletic bodies. Oh, and nice cocks. She likes when a man has a ‘well-formed cock’ – by which she means not too small or thin.

She recalls taking some time away from her work for a walk around the nearby lake. She came to the end of the “malecon” (boardwalk) and passed a cute boy playing with his dog. “Buenos Dias,” he greeted her with a big smile. She smiled back and continued walking.

“I stopped to check my phone, in the hope he would approach me,” Sarah tells me. He did just that. “Como Estas?” she said, opening the conversation. She quickly discovered that he spoke no English. Nada. Zero. Usually, this would be a deal breaker for her, but something about him held her attention.

“At best I can speak broken Spanish,” she recounts. She asked him how old he was, and he said 20. He asked the same question back.

“How old do you think I am?” She teased “Thirty,” he says. She laughed and told him her real age: 42.

“This dude had an A+ confidence game. Babyface, big smile, buoyant energy,” Sarah goes on. The flirting began with a compliment.

“You’re guapo (handsome),” she told him.

“Mui guapa (you’re very beautiful too),” he replied.

At the end of their walk, they exchanged numbers, names and parted ways. “It was on!” she remembers. “That was the energy. We both knew exactly what was happening.”

“Later that evening, we met at the plaza. The sun was setting: it was a gorgeous night. Martin (she’d finally got his name) told me he had to take a bus to get there,” she laughs. “It wasn’t just his physique. There was something about him I really liked.

“We were walking on a different boardwalk, and this young boy fell down on the street. Martin immediately ran to help him. He was a gentleman. “When we got back to the house, the owner’s dog jumped up and slobbered on his jeans. I went to wipe the spit off Martin’s leg and he leaned in for that first kiss. That kiss turned into a cinematic, french kiss. He was full on! Sometimes that doesn’t work for me. I get off on the power dynamic, I like having control.”

This is a similar motive to many of the other sexually active people I’ve interviewed. It’s not purely about the sex. It’s about the power dynamic too.

“When a strange guy comes on too strong, it’s usually a turn-off,” Sarah confesses. “Overeager guys who have not learned the art of seduction – that’s what ya get sometimes with younger men. Horny gropers!” She laughs.

“But he was more confident in himself than the average 20-year-old. I kinda loved his boldness.”

And bold he was!

“Let’s go to the bedroom,” he said, in Spanish of course. “The entire exchange was funny because I barely speak the language. I usually don’t sleep with people the day I meet them, but, in this case, I broke my own rules.”

Back in her room, she asked him to take off his shirt, craving what she recalls as his young, ‘football players body’. “I started kissing and touching his back. He took off my shirt. There’s nothing kinky about this: it was pretty straightforward hetero sex. I do get off on the age difference. Fucking young guys can be really fun. I like to shock them with my own forwardness, tease them. Lots of times, you can tell it’s a new experience for them.”

She smiles at the memory.

“I licked his neck. His dick was hard. ‘Lento’ I said, which means ‘slow.’ He wanted me to take it – but no. He’s got to wait till I”m good and ready. The dynamic made me slip away and think about another lover I have, wishing our chemistry was as intense. I’m always chasing that hit: the charge I get from new encounters. I have a friend who likes to quantify it as the ‘limerence of sex addiction’. Look it up! However one defines it, I just want what I want, when I want it. Who’s gonna tell me it’s not OK? That’s the beauty of being an adult. I’m responsible for my choices. As long as everyone is consenting adults – or, almost adults.” She laughs out loud.

“He took off my clothes and went down on me. He did act older than his years. And was more experienced than some of the other young men I’ve engaged with. I inquired about it - he told her he’d already had 15 or so lovers. That’s a lot for 20, no?”

“He kissed my calves and worked his way up the inside of my legs. It was sexy. He was sure of himself and that was hot. I had already masturbated a few times that afternoon - otherwise I might have come more quickly. He had to work for it! His approach was a bit hard. He was going at my clit, when a more experienced guy would know to back off, to read my signals.

“I had to ask for more subtle kisses and licks. Not an easy task in a different language. It becomes physical, language that is. I pushed him back, and he kept digging in. If he wasn’t so cute it might have been a turn off.

“I may need to become a lesbian,” she declares.