By day, I pushed my sexual urges down and tried to be sweet and virgin-like. But by night (aided by a bottle of wine), my sexual self would emerge in full force; no man was safe. When I did have sex, it always felt so good, so natural: I was my truest self. I loved the feeling of skin on skin, of seeing my body – pale, slim and curvy – alongside a man’s hairier and more muscular one. I knew what to do without thinking about it. I followed what felt right, what felt good. But the next day, I would feel so ashamed. I would want to get away from my partner as quickly as possible…