So I had another moment with my choking friend. I really should choose a name for him, but one doesn't easily spring to mind.
Things went fine, dinner, movie, chats... we curled up on his couch to watch a movie. After a little while he kissed me, pulled me in close, and looked me in the eye. He wrapped both hands around my throat (palm against my trachea, fingers interlaced on the side of my neck).
He squeezed.
Hard.
I felt lightheaded at first. I felt the choking start to take effect. But he didn't ease. Usually when I start to lose vision, he lets go. Staring into my eyes, he let me faint.
I came to, trembling and shaking. I have no idea how long I was out. The high was amazing. I won't lie. But we went far, fast.
We slept together afterwards. I felt so... intertwined with the moment. The lightheadedness, the arousal, the impending need to orgasm.
The sex was good, he bit me, scratched me, squeezed my wrists above my head. He sucked my nipples hard.
He wouldn't come though. He wouldn't let me go down on him, wouldn't let me jerk him off, not a chance.
He called me beautiful afterwards, washing my body in a warm shower. Kissing my neck softly. Telling me it was amazing.
Gentle sweetness, intense choking, intimacy... all very strange...
Showing posts with label date. Show all posts
Showing posts with label date. Show all posts
Thursday, 2 August 2012
Wednesday, 25 April 2012
A Long Night
Last night... So last night was an interesting night.
I didn't 'man up'.
I didn't tell him I wanted him to be firmer with me. I just told him he was sexier when he was assertive.
He was at first. He was firmer. He dragged my hips over the end of the bed and pushed me right over the edge with orgasms. So many orgasms I was quivering and shaking. I'd guess more than a dozen.
I got him on his back on the bed and went down on him.
And nothing.
He just wasn't up for it.
I could sense the disconnection immediately. Like something had washed through his mind. Like a thought had been swirling through his head and had re-routed the blood.
I could feel him tensing up. Him retreating from sex. As though it was game over. I curled up next to him, Kissed him and curled up next to him, running my hand over his muscular chest.
I asked him what was going through his head. He chose not to say. I nuzzled and kissed his neck. It wasn't sexual, more comforting. I didn't want to make a deal out of it. I've dealt with penis issues as a girlfriend - it's easy then. You tell them how you feel, that you like them for who they are. What the hell do you say to an ex?
I rushed a platitude. I wasn't trying to be condescending. I just wanted him to relax. My comfort sounded hollow to my critical ears. I paused and breathed. His dark brown eyes were a zillion miles away. My trite reassurances were lost in the void.
I hung in that awkward place. I quizzed him. I got imprecise blurred sentiment.
"It's different. Now that we're not together. The sex is. I'm different" he stuttered. His face impassive. His voice lacked it's usual cadence. The sentences were forced. The sentiment lost. Yes, the observation that things are different was valid. Things were. But why? My sexual feelings hadn't changed.
And then it struck me.
For me, sex and love are exclusive feelings. I can love someone asexually. I can have amazing sex with someone I don't love. He was in crisis: he'd never really slept with a girl he wasn't on a "path". To him, this gentle but fulfilling sex was filled with all those guilt emotions that those of us who are less conservative feel only when we breach one of societies more illicit rules.
To him, this was me compromising. And with that, he some how felt freer. Freer to touch me, freer to push me sexually. Then the guilt. Guilt that women deserve more. Guilt that he wasn't respecting me. And for him, those two feelings had been personified in the moment that I pulled his cock from my lips, licked it then sucked the head like a lollipop. That was what caused the freeze. I'd done it so he'd be able to see. I thought that he'd like the look of my soft lips. And I'd been right. I hadn't anticipated the guilt.
I assured him that there was nothing I was doing that I wouldn't have done as his girlfriend, that the freedoms he was exploring was just him exploring his sexuality. I assured him that the sex was amazing. My trite reassurances from before became veritable truths. With more direct and genuine conversation, he eased. Pulling me on top of him, he slipped his rock hard cock inside me and I started to grind against him. His fingertips stroking my soft breasts, as I came he pressed them against my clit, rocking my hips harder with the other hand.
We rested for a moment after I came for the sixth time on top. It was seconds before he had me on my back, legs over his shoulders. His cock pressed firmly against my vagina, slipping in.
I came instantly. He pressed my knees down against my chest, pushing his cock further inside me. I was a shaking mess. I came again. I shook so hard. The more I shook the more he pushed and the more I came.
I finally shook and shook and moaned and he came hard, deep inside of me. He rolled of next to me. We lay in bliss. The whole encounter, from him pulling me to the edge of the bed to us lying shaking on the bed was four hours. I'd had well in excess of two dozen orgasms. I was physically exhausted. We laughed, shared a moment of peace together. The chemistry between us was electric.
We curled up together and I slept in his bed. Two hours later I got up, went and sat on the couch. Passed an hour and a bit with some Angry Birds. Weighed up what I'd wear when I got home. I'd woken with a pounding headache and a very sore throat. The chills were running through my body. I curled up back in bed and (s)Ex brought me something for my fever and some water. He stroked my tired head. We lay naked and entwined for another hour, my fingers running over his morning erection. 8am. I excused myself. It was home time. I did some basic stretches to ease my aching muscles. My head was still throbbing and my throat was aching. I kissed him, dressed and he walked me to the door.
I rushed home, the painkillers slowly easing my achy body.
I showered quickly, make up, lipstick and a tidy outfit later, I met a new man for a cup of coffee. TallBoy. He was handsome and funny. Outdoorsy. He's muscular. He looks like something off a glossy cover.
Conversation flowed easily. His big bright blue eyes have a flash of cheekiness. The coffee was easy, the chat was pleasant. He laughed at jokes that weren't funny. Turns out, it's not just girls who do that.
He kissed me on the cheek goodbye. I was grateful to go, the painkillers from earlier were wearing off, and the drive home seemed like an eternally long way.
I rested my forehead against my steering wheel.
It's early afternoon. There is so much more of today left.
So much more.
Despite my aching muscles and my throbbing headache and sore throat. Despite my returning fever. I prepare to text (s)Ex. I'm going to tell him that I'll see him after I finish with some friends tonight. I want to see him. I want to feel his tongue pressed against my clit again. I want to see his big brown eyes looking at me like I"m something of wonder. I feel like a princess the way he looks at me.
As I sit, message screen open. I ponder. What do I say? I know TallBoy is the embodiment of everything (s)Ex would dread I'd like. He'd hate him. If he knew I'd spent the morning with another man, he'd be green eyed and jealous. He'd retreat. Those warm brown eyes would become steeled cold. I'd hate to lose the little care we have left. It'd be saddening to watch him walk away. Fear that he'll make me sad reassures me. I hate being afraid. I'll keep my secrets from him. He need not know. Right?
I didn't 'man up'.
I didn't tell him I wanted him to be firmer with me. I just told him he was sexier when he was assertive.
He was at first. He was firmer. He dragged my hips over the end of the bed and pushed me right over the edge with orgasms. So many orgasms I was quivering and shaking. I'd guess more than a dozen.
I got him on his back on the bed and went down on him.
And nothing.
He just wasn't up for it.
I could sense the disconnection immediately. Like something had washed through his mind. Like a thought had been swirling through his head and had re-routed the blood.
I could feel him tensing up. Him retreating from sex. As though it was game over. I curled up next to him, Kissed him and curled up next to him, running my hand over his muscular chest.
I asked him what was going through his head. He chose not to say. I nuzzled and kissed his neck. It wasn't sexual, more comforting. I didn't want to make a deal out of it. I've dealt with penis issues as a girlfriend - it's easy then. You tell them how you feel, that you like them for who they are. What the hell do you say to an ex?
I rushed a platitude. I wasn't trying to be condescending. I just wanted him to relax. My comfort sounded hollow to my critical ears. I paused and breathed. His dark brown eyes were a zillion miles away. My trite reassurances were lost in the void.
I hung in that awkward place. I quizzed him. I got imprecise blurred sentiment.
"It's different. Now that we're not together. The sex is. I'm different" he stuttered. His face impassive. His voice lacked it's usual cadence. The sentences were forced. The sentiment lost. Yes, the observation that things are different was valid. Things were. But why? My sexual feelings hadn't changed.
And then it struck me.
For me, sex and love are exclusive feelings. I can love someone asexually. I can have amazing sex with someone I don't love. He was in crisis: he'd never really slept with a girl he wasn't on a "path". To him, this gentle but fulfilling sex was filled with all those guilt emotions that those of us who are less conservative feel only when we breach one of societies more illicit rules.
To him, this was me compromising. And with that, he some how felt freer. Freer to touch me, freer to push me sexually. Then the guilt. Guilt that women deserve more. Guilt that he wasn't respecting me. And for him, those two feelings had been personified in the moment that I pulled his cock from my lips, licked it then sucked the head like a lollipop. That was what caused the freeze. I'd done it so he'd be able to see. I thought that he'd like the look of my soft lips. And I'd been right. I hadn't anticipated the guilt.
I assured him that there was nothing I was doing that I wouldn't have done as his girlfriend, that the freedoms he was exploring was just him exploring his sexuality. I assured him that the sex was amazing. My trite reassurances from before became veritable truths. With more direct and genuine conversation, he eased. Pulling me on top of him, he slipped his rock hard cock inside me and I started to grind against him. His fingertips stroking my soft breasts, as I came he pressed them against my clit, rocking my hips harder with the other hand.
We rested for a moment after I came for the sixth time on top. It was seconds before he had me on my back, legs over his shoulders. His cock pressed firmly against my vagina, slipping in.
I came instantly. He pressed my knees down against my chest, pushing his cock further inside me. I was a shaking mess. I came again. I shook so hard. The more I shook the more he pushed and the more I came.
I finally shook and shook and moaned and he came hard, deep inside of me. He rolled of next to me. We lay in bliss. The whole encounter, from him pulling me to the edge of the bed to us lying shaking on the bed was four hours. I'd had well in excess of two dozen orgasms. I was physically exhausted. We laughed, shared a moment of peace together. The chemistry between us was electric.
We curled up together and I slept in his bed. Two hours later I got up, went and sat on the couch. Passed an hour and a bit with some Angry Birds. Weighed up what I'd wear when I got home. I'd woken with a pounding headache and a very sore throat. The chills were running through my body. I curled up back in bed and (s)Ex brought me something for my fever and some water. He stroked my tired head. We lay naked and entwined for another hour, my fingers running over his morning erection. 8am. I excused myself. It was home time. I did some basic stretches to ease my aching muscles. My head was still throbbing and my throat was aching. I kissed him, dressed and he walked me to the door.
I rushed home, the painkillers slowly easing my achy body.
I showered quickly, make up, lipstick and a tidy outfit later, I met a new man for a cup of coffee. TallBoy. He was handsome and funny. Outdoorsy. He's muscular. He looks like something off a glossy cover.
Conversation flowed easily. His big bright blue eyes have a flash of cheekiness. The coffee was easy, the chat was pleasant. He laughed at jokes that weren't funny. Turns out, it's not just girls who do that.
He kissed me on the cheek goodbye. I was grateful to go, the painkillers from earlier were wearing off, and the drive home seemed like an eternally long way.
I rested my forehead against my steering wheel.
It's early afternoon. There is so much more of today left.
So much more.
Despite my aching muscles and my throbbing headache and sore throat. Despite my returning fever. I prepare to text (s)Ex. I'm going to tell him that I'll see him after I finish with some friends tonight. I want to see him. I want to feel his tongue pressed against my clit again. I want to see his big brown eyes looking at me like I"m something of wonder. I feel like a princess the way he looks at me.
As I sit, message screen open. I ponder. What do I say? I know TallBoy is the embodiment of everything (s)Ex would dread I'd like. He'd hate him. If he knew I'd spent the morning with another man, he'd be green eyed and jealous. He'd retreat. Those warm brown eyes would become steeled cold. I'd hate to lose the little care we have left. It'd be saddening to watch him walk away. Fear that he'll make me sad reassures me. I hate being afraid. I'll keep my secrets from him. He need not know. Right?
Tuesday, 24 April 2012
The Waiting Game
It's Tuesday. I've had a couple of drinks. Rum.
I'm playing the waiting game.
The waiting game is that time when you're all ready to go, but have no place to be yet.
Tonight I'm off to fuck my (s)Ex. I'm hoping he'll have a few drinks and I can get him to actually play nasty with me tonight. He wants me to squirt. I've told him the basics. If I do though, I know I'll want more. I'll want to confess all my dirty little fantasies to him.
He'll freak. He'll probably cry like the good boy he is.
How do I tell him if he wants me to actually squirt he's going to need to get far dirtier. Far far dirtier than he ever has.
I'm pouring another rum as I ponder this.
I'm sexting my friends ex-boyfriend. He's gay. I just want to be in a beautiful threesome with him again. The first and last time we had a threesome it was fucking beautiful.
My friend was driving. The two boys had broken up. We went out partying as friends. We had been at the bar. This story will be so much easier if I give them names. So tonight, we'll call them Thick and Long. One has a thick cock. It's average in length. The other one has an average girthed cock but it's beautiful and long.
So, we're driving across the city to take Thick home. Long is driving. We're most of the hour and a bit drive to his place, and we stumble across a traffic stop. Random breathalyser test. So Long steps out. Thick and I were sure he was trashed. We both were. The policeman tells Long to step out of the vehicle. I kneel up on the front seat, peering over at Thick with raised eyebrows. A uniformed officer gets into the vehicle and suggests I might want to wear a seatbelt whilst he parks Longs car.
The officer parks Longs car, tells us the wait could be 20 minutes or could be much longer. I slip off my seatbelt. It's winter. The alcohol isn't keeping me warm and I didn't pack a jacket. The officer could see we were both drunk and had taken Longs keys. I climb into the back with Thick. We lean against each other, laughing about the night. Thick looks at me intently. He tells me I'm beautiful. He kisses me.
My lips were on fire. He feels amazing. He whispers. I haven't been with a girl in years and years. I don't know what I'm doing.
I'm speechless.
I want him to relax.
I hop on my knees on the back seat of the car. The windows are foggy from the breathing and talking. My tiny black dress barely covers my ass. It's a blessing the windows are foggy. I unzip his pants and kiss him again.
I gently lick his hard cock. I can sense he's nervous. He brushes his fingers through my brown hair, pulling it up off my face. He's watching me lick and kiss the head of his cock. I'm turning him on. I'm focussing on the head of his cock, wanting him to relax before I do anymore. I feel his hands ease a little. That's my cue. I start to suck, drawing more of him into my mouth. I hear him gasp and say my name. I can tell that he's enjoying it. He reaches under neath my dress and touches my panties. He tells me he can't believe how wet they are. Thicks voice rasping because I'm turning him on. He grabs my hair, pushing his thick cock into my mouth, pulling my head up and pushing down again.
The click of the door catch is deafening, as is the sharp cold air straight across my exposed ass.
Thick freezes. His arm muscles tense up, meaning I'm stuck, his cock deep in my throat.
The silence hangs in the air, the breeze still blowing. My tiny soaking wet g string isn't providing me with much protection.
I wriggle my knees nervously. My knees are on Longs jacket. Thicks cock hardens in my mouth.
Thick speaks first.
"Lick her ass"
I feel his fist tighten on my hair, dick in my throat. He's no longer frozen, he's holding me there.
I feel the weight of Long climb into the car behind me. He shuts the door. The cold breeze stops. He pushes the dress up the rest of the way, slips his finger inside the front of my panties, pulling his finger back along my pussy towards my ass slowly. Gently lifting the lace from between my cheeks.
I feel a warm wet tongue against my ass. I quiver. Thick starts to pull my head up and down. Long is licking my asshole hard. I hear Longs zipper. His cock is rock hard, and he's freeing it from the constraints of his pants.
He shoves his tongue hard into my ass, and starts jerking his cock. Before long, the front of his thighs are pressed hard against the back of mine. He presses his cock into my pussy. I'm wet. My panties are soaking.
My moans are muffled by Thicks cock filling up my mouth. The two boys aren't exactly gentle. They fuck my mouth and my pussy at the same time. I came hard. Repeatedly. My legs start to shake.
Long pulls out. Pushing me aside and starts to suck Thicks hard cock. I play with Longs cock and balls. Trying to get him close, I start to suck hard. Long and Thick are both moaning. Longs mouth as full as mine. I get all of Longs cock into my mouth and throat. It takes a while.
Long comes first. I swallow hard. As Thick is about to come, Long stops sucking and grabs my hair, making me suck him and swallow his cum too.
We all lean against the back seat of the car. Thick and Long have both quit smoking. I light one and pass it to my left and Thick takes it. I light one and pass it to my right and Long takes it. I light another and we sit and smoke. I look down at my designer label dress. There is cum on the fabric covering my tits. I don't know who it belongs to. I straight the hem at the bottom. The dry cleaning bill on this beauty is going to kill me. Who gets come on a five hundred dollar dress?
We slowly finish our cigarettes and dress and begin to drive. The conversation is comfortably quiet.
I drift off to sleep before we reach Thicks house. Long carries me to my warm waiting bed on the other side of town an hour and a bit later. Tucking me in.
And my problem for tonight?
All I have to do is blurt out and tell a guy I want him to be a little more assertive with me. Sounds pretty easy after all that. Right?
I'm playing the waiting game.
The waiting game is that time when you're all ready to go, but have no place to be yet.
Tonight I'm off to fuck my (s)Ex. I'm hoping he'll have a few drinks and I can get him to actually play nasty with me tonight. He wants me to squirt. I've told him the basics. If I do though, I know I'll want more. I'll want to confess all my dirty little fantasies to him.
He'll freak. He'll probably cry like the good boy he is.
How do I tell him if he wants me to actually squirt he's going to need to get far dirtier. Far far dirtier than he ever has.
I'm pouring another rum as I ponder this.
I'm sexting my friends ex-boyfriend. He's gay. I just want to be in a beautiful threesome with him again. The first and last time we had a threesome it was fucking beautiful.
My friend was driving. The two boys had broken up. We went out partying as friends. We had been at the bar. This story will be so much easier if I give them names. So tonight, we'll call them Thick and Long. One has a thick cock. It's average in length. The other one has an average girthed cock but it's beautiful and long.
So, we're driving across the city to take Thick home. Long is driving. We're most of the hour and a bit drive to his place, and we stumble across a traffic stop. Random breathalyser test. So Long steps out. Thick and I were sure he was trashed. We both were. The policeman tells Long to step out of the vehicle. I kneel up on the front seat, peering over at Thick with raised eyebrows. A uniformed officer gets into the vehicle and suggests I might want to wear a seatbelt whilst he parks Longs car.
The officer parks Longs car, tells us the wait could be 20 minutes or could be much longer. I slip off my seatbelt. It's winter. The alcohol isn't keeping me warm and I didn't pack a jacket. The officer could see we were both drunk and had taken Longs keys. I climb into the back with Thick. We lean against each other, laughing about the night. Thick looks at me intently. He tells me I'm beautiful. He kisses me.
My lips were on fire. He feels amazing. He whispers. I haven't been with a girl in years and years. I don't know what I'm doing.
I'm speechless.
I want him to relax.
I hop on my knees on the back seat of the car. The windows are foggy from the breathing and talking. My tiny black dress barely covers my ass. It's a blessing the windows are foggy. I unzip his pants and kiss him again.
I gently lick his hard cock. I can sense he's nervous. He brushes his fingers through my brown hair, pulling it up off my face. He's watching me lick and kiss the head of his cock. I'm turning him on. I'm focussing on the head of his cock, wanting him to relax before I do anymore. I feel his hands ease a little. That's my cue. I start to suck, drawing more of him into my mouth. I hear him gasp and say my name. I can tell that he's enjoying it. He reaches under neath my dress and touches my panties. He tells me he can't believe how wet they are. Thicks voice rasping because I'm turning him on. He grabs my hair, pushing his thick cock into my mouth, pulling my head up and pushing down again.
The click of the door catch is deafening, as is the sharp cold air straight across my exposed ass.
Thick freezes. His arm muscles tense up, meaning I'm stuck, his cock deep in my throat.
The silence hangs in the air, the breeze still blowing. My tiny soaking wet g string isn't providing me with much protection.
I wriggle my knees nervously. My knees are on Longs jacket. Thicks cock hardens in my mouth.
Thick speaks first.
"Lick her ass"
I feel his fist tighten on my hair, dick in my throat. He's no longer frozen, he's holding me there.
I feel the weight of Long climb into the car behind me. He shuts the door. The cold breeze stops. He pushes the dress up the rest of the way, slips his finger inside the front of my panties, pulling his finger back along my pussy towards my ass slowly. Gently lifting the lace from between my cheeks.
I feel a warm wet tongue against my ass. I quiver. Thick starts to pull my head up and down. Long is licking my asshole hard. I hear Longs zipper. His cock is rock hard, and he's freeing it from the constraints of his pants.
He shoves his tongue hard into my ass, and starts jerking his cock. Before long, the front of his thighs are pressed hard against the back of mine. He presses his cock into my pussy. I'm wet. My panties are soaking.
My moans are muffled by Thicks cock filling up my mouth. The two boys aren't exactly gentle. They fuck my mouth and my pussy at the same time. I came hard. Repeatedly. My legs start to shake.
Long pulls out. Pushing me aside and starts to suck Thicks hard cock. I play with Longs cock and balls. Trying to get him close, I start to suck hard. Long and Thick are both moaning. Longs mouth as full as mine. I get all of Longs cock into my mouth and throat. It takes a while.
Long comes first. I swallow hard. As Thick is about to come, Long stops sucking and grabs my hair, making me suck him and swallow his cum too.
We all lean against the back seat of the car. Thick and Long have both quit smoking. I light one and pass it to my left and Thick takes it. I light one and pass it to my right and Long takes it. I light another and we sit and smoke. I look down at my designer label dress. There is cum on the fabric covering my tits. I don't know who it belongs to. I straight the hem at the bottom. The dry cleaning bill on this beauty is going to kill me. Who gets come on a five hundred dollar dress?
We slowly finish our cigarettes and dress and begin to drive. The conversation is comfortably quiet.
I drift off to sleep before we reach Thicks house. Long carries me to my warm waiting bed on the other side of town an hour and a bit later. Tucking me in.
And my problem for tonight?
All I have to do is blurt out and tell a guy I want him to be a little more assertive with me. Sounds pretty easy after all that. Right?
Monday, 23 April 2012
I Want You To Want Me
So my (s)ex came over tonight. We watched stupid TV, talked about stupid shit.
I'm so sick of initiating sex with him. I know he's up for it, I had my legs in his lap, I felt his hard on through his pants. But he's so gutless he won't make a move.
What's the story?
When we were a couple he was always reserved about making the first move. I hate being the one who always starts things. Don't get me wrong - it's usually worth it. But after washing my hair, shaving my legs, slipping into a black lacy pair of panties, you'd think the boy could kiss me, right? Nope. Nada. He just sat there like a chump waiting.
I don't know if other people think it's a big deal, but for me, knowing I can have it if I get it is nowhere near as fun as someone wanting it. I mean, I know he'll go down on me if I make the effort to go get him. Worst of all he was at my place.
So I let him leave. I didn't even kiss him goodbye. I curled up in bed, watched some nasty porn (I love those ones with the double penetration), slipped my beautiful vibrator in, and rocked myself to a cosy seven orgasms. It was my second solo-session today, giving me a beautiful total of sixteen orgasms today.
I love my vibrator. Seriously.
My really kinky friend (see blog "A Strange Kinda Thursday" from the other day) has been on the fritz this weekend - I think he's stressed, but I do miss the kinky fun we have. I'm moderately hopeful he'll make time for a round this week.
A really filthy friend of mine just flew into town. I'm patient. He's making the family rounds after being overseas for a couple of years. When I'm ready, I know he'll be up for some fun. But patience is a virtue. He loves dominant/submissive play. But he's a little icier and more experienced. He likes it when it hurts a little and the control. He likes it when I can't breathe properly. I like the danger.
In less-than-sexy news, I'm on a best-friend-regulated date. It's mandatory that every so often I attempt to consume food/coffee with a guy. Dating always ends in a disaster for me. Last one wanted to marry me after ten weeks, and when I couldn't promise it, he freaked out, broke it off and bailed. The one before him turned out to be a religious fanatic. A beautiful little nugget of truth he saved for the first two months. The one before that asked me to move in with him after 11 weeks. Not one passed the twelve week mark. This one is tall, handsome and hand selected from online dating by BFF. He's a geek (we both like an assortment of geeky movies and TV shows), but also a fitness freak. Hopefully it's not a total disaster. Hopefully he doesn't get too attached. I hate that.
An old boss of mine is in town next weekend. Which may make for one long night of sex if I can escape some prior commitments. He announced his arrival with full body naked photos sent to my inbox accompanied by the dates he's in town. He's a slut. Under pressure after tequila one night he estimated that he's slept with between 200-300 women. He's not particularly good looking, but he's got a nice firm body and a fairly ample cock. But mostly? He comes off like he doesn't give a fuck. Which most girls find their Kryptonite. For me? We bond over science, particularly anthropology. We've lain in bed for whole nights and mornings looking at science journals. He's a gentle but selfish lover. He has a huge thing for fingers in his ass, which I don't mind sometimes, but he loves it. A lot. I think he's too repressed to have more in his ass, even though deep down I think he's curious enough to want more.
I miss my friend. She's cute, hard breasts, curvy ass. She's not the stick-thin that's so often preferred these days, but she has a nice muscular round ass. Firm legs. She's a make up free, jeans and tee kind of girl. Her big hazel eyes. She used to wear glasses (laser eye surgery). She's got a beautiful big smile. She's a lying bitch too. She lied to me. So so much. I forgave it. She cheated on her boyfriend (a mate of mine). I ignored it. But she 30% confessed her sins to him. Implicating me. He's spent the last 6 months out of his mind with paranoia. Knowing she's still lying. Knowing there's more. I don't mind that she's a lying bitch. I really just care that she sucks at it. Might sound mean? I've spent at least once a week dealing with her boyfriends fucked up neuroses. So two weeks ago, when she hadn't spoken to me in weeks, he finally put me under enough pressure that I cracked. Told him some more of the truth. Not everything, but enough to set aside her lies and get some better answers. I'd pleaded, negotiated and explained to her she hadn't covered her tracks adequately and that she was getting herself in deep. Bitch didn't listen. If she'd only kept her shit together and not got an attack of the guilts. But she thought she got seen with her secret lover and heard footsteps and confessed. Now she won't talk to me. Mostly I miss her going down on me.
That girl and I did so many naughty things. She'll never watch another Quentin Tarantino movie with a straight face again. I did terribly sordid things to that girl, with QT movies playing in the background, while our friend watched. Our friend. With the frigid girlfriend, and the barely-legal-whores who chase him. He's a watcher. Occasionally a toucher. Never a fucker. If only the Little Lady wasn't such a perfect lady and would suck his cock, he'd be a faithful man.
I miss those days of fun, her coming so hard she'd shake and quiver. Watching the orgasms roll over her, her huge breasts shuddering as she came.
So, here's a toast.
To friends who come and go.
xxSSB
I'm so sick of initiating sex with him. I know he's up for it, I had my legs in his lap, I felt his hard on through his pants. But he's so gutless he won't make a move.
What's the story?
When we were a couple he was always reserved about making the first move. I hate being the one who always starts things. Don't get me wrong - it's usually worth it. But after washing my hair, shaving my legs, slipping into a black lacy pair of panties, you'd think the boy could kiss me, right? Nope. Nada. He just sat there like a chump waiting.
I don't know if other people think it's a big deal, but for me, knowing I can have it if I get it is nowhere near as fun as someone wanting it. I mean, I know he'll go down on me if I make the effort to go get him. Worst of all he was at my place.
So I let him leave. I didn't even kiss him goodbye. I curled up in bed, watched some nasty porn (I love those ones with the double penetration), slipped my beautiful vibrator in, and rocked myself to a cosy seven orgasms. It was my second solo-session today, giving me a beautiful total of sixteen orgasms today.
I love my vibrator. Seriously.
My really kinky friend (see blog "A Strange Kinda Thursday" from the other day) has been on the fritz this weekend - I think he's stressed, but I do miss the kinky fun we have. I'm moderately hopeful he'll make time for a round this week.
A really filthy friend of mine just flew into town. I'm patient. He's making the family rounds after being overseas for a couple of years. When I'm ready, I know he'll be up for some fun. But patience is a virtue. He loves dominant/submissive play. But he's a little icier and more experienced. He likes it when it hurts a little and the control. He likes it when I can't breathe properly. I like the danger.
In less-than-sexy news, I'm on a best-friend-regulated date. It's mandatory that every so often I attempt to consume food/coffee with a guy. Dating always ends in a disaster for me. Last one wanted to marry me after ten weeks, and when I couldn't promise it, he freaked out, broke it off and bailed. The one before him turned out to be a religious fanatic. A beautiful little nugget of truth he saved for the first two months. The one before that asked me to move in with him after 11 weeks. Not one passed the twelve week mark. This one is tall, handsome and hand selected from online dating by BFF. He's a geek (we both like an assortment of geeky movies and TV shows), but also a fitness freak. Hopefully it's not a total disaster. Hopefully he doesn't get too attached. I hate that.
An old boss of mine is in town next weekend. Which may make for one long night of sex if I can escape some prior commitments. He announced his arrival with full body naked photos sent to my inbox accompanied by the dates he's in town. He's a slut. Under pressure after tequila one night he estimated that he's slept with between 200-300 women. He's not particularly good looking, but he's got a nice firm body and a fairly ample cock. But mostly? He comes off like he doesn't give a fuck. Which most girls find their Kryptonite. For me? We bond over science, particularly anthropology. We've lain in bed for whole nights and mornings looking at science journals. He's a gentle but selfish lover. He has a huge thing for fingers in his ass, which I don't mind sometimes, but he loves it. A lot. I think he's too repressed to have more in his ass, even though deep down I think he's curious enough to want more.
I miss my friend. She's cute, hard breasts, curvy ass. She's not the stick-thin that's so often preferred these days, but she has a nice muscular round ass. Firm legs. She's a make up free, jeans and tee kind of girl. Her big hazel eyes. She used to wear glasses (laser eye surgery). She's got a beautiful big smile. She's a lying bitch too. She lied to me. So so much. I forgave it. She cheated on her boyfriend (a mate of mine). I ignored it. But she 30% confessed her sins to him. Implicating me. He's spent the last 6 months out of his mind with paranoia. Knowing she's still lying. Knowing there's more. I don't mind that she's a lying bitch. I really just care that she sucks at it. Might sound mean? I've spent at least once a week dealing with her boyfriends fucked up neuroses. So two weeks ago, when she hadn't spoken to me in weeks, he finally put me under enough pressure that I cracked. Told him some more of the truth. Not everything, but enough to set aside her lies and get some better answers. I'd pleaded, negotiated and explained to her she hadn't covered her tracks adequately and that she was getting herself in deep. Bitch didn't listen. If she'd only kept her shit together and not got an attack of the guilts. But she thought she got seen with her secret lover and heard footsteps and confessed. Now she won't talk to me. Mostly I miss her going down on me.
That girl and I did so many naughty things. She'll never watch another Quentin Tarantino movie with a straight face again. I did terribly sordid things to that girl, with QT movies playing in the background, while our friend watched. Our friend. With the frigid girlfriend, and the barely-legal-whores who chase him. He's a watcher. Occasionally a toucher. Never a fucker. If only the Little Lady wasn't such a perfect lady and would suck his cock, he'd be a faithful man.
I miss those days of fun, her coming so hard she'd shake and quiver. Watching the orgasms roll over her, her huge breasts shuddering as she came.
So, here's a toast.
To friends who come and go.
xxSSB
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)