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

Dereliction of Booty?

I'm weighing up this evenings options. 


I can call my (s)ex, but at the same time I don't want to cause myself more trouble than it's worth.


Or I can stay home and watch porn.


I know sex for two is so much more fun but the allure of a night with my vibrators and some peace is so powerful.


I know traditionally single-and-horny's frequent bars, looking for someone drunk enough to smear their lipstick and jizz on their panties before passing out, but drunk fucks with strangers are rarely enjoyable. They always lack the dedication and stamina I look for in a partner. Those first moments of anticipation, of alluring naughtiness, and the threat of impending next-morning-guilt while hunting for your panties as you kiss a perfect stranger never compare to the depressing morning after. 


As it is I'm a well documented post-coitus-bailer, I barely like to cuddle with people I love. When I don't love them, I tend to just get dressed and go. On the few occasions when I've stayed the night with someone I don't care about, the next morning while I get dressed, tidy my messed hair and make up and hunt for any excuse to get out makes me resent them and pray I never even have to speak to them again.


The reaction to dressing immediately after sex and leaving is usually one of hurt confusion. I'm sure women hate it, but guys hate it too. They all THINK that they'd be ok with it, but when the girl can't give an explanation about why she doesn't want to stay and just leaves it makes them paranoid it was them. And every precious minute I spend standing there persuading them it wasn't them, I get less persuasive because each precious minute makes it a little less true. It becomes the neurosis that makes sure I never ever go back.


I think it's self defence though - if you stay, if you spend time pretending you give a fuck about people you don't, you end up actually giving a fuck. Why stay and cuddle if you think it's stupid? To make someone you don't care about happy? 


For those reasons, I despise having sex at my place. You feel so pressured as the hostess to offer them water, to let them sleep if they're "exhausted" as so many men claim to be after sex (I think of them as "lodgers" when they go "Oh I'm soooooooo tired *yawn*"). How do you tell a lodger that they've overstayed? Look, your penis was great, but you should take it and get the fuck out.


Just me?