For some reason I’m all about the serials these days. I was going to call this reason no. 1 why I need a boyfriend, but then I realized that this is not the best way to start out my reasons. These are not weighted, so number one has no more significance than number 45 (and oh yes, there will be many, reasons why I need one and what sort of characteristics he must have to keep my interest).
I want to have a g-spot orgasm. I’m in awe. I’ve read Marcelle; she has them all the time! And according to my Internet research (and you know you should always believe everything you read on the internet). All women are capable of squirting. I want to do it! Apparently the porn I have been getting off to lately is called “squirt bukkake”. It’s a whole different genre than bukkake porn. I like the name-calling, I like the mess, and I like the humiliation. I want to be the one asking “you like that, don’t you, you want me to come all over your face. Make you wet and dirty”.
I want to combine that with acts of actual penetration (which since this porn is geared for men, they just show women squirting, its like the new money shot; complete with faux authenticity). I want someone who is willing to go slow and practice and work, wait work (emphasis please) to get me there. According to the shit I’ve been reading its like training for a marathon. You need to work on your kegels and work up to squirting. With the assistance of a nice man, a g-spot stimulating dildo, plastic covering and some time I have supreme faith. I can get there.
can we also call it something else? I am not a fan of the word squirt. It's too atonal and harsh.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Part II
Yeah, sorry guys, I don’t see myself writing what went down between me and the boy. It’s emotional, personal and now too much time has passed for me to just write it and not add commentary. I haven’t really spoken to the boy since and I think it’s best if I just move on. It was necessary though, I feel ok about what happened. At one point I had him blindfolded on his stomach. It was pretty gorgeous, I like to be the one gazing, why does it always have to be the male gaze? He looked vulnerable and pretty, but it wasn’t fully there yet. He is the perfect type for my sort of ideal dominance. He’s long and lean and has beautiful features. Being able to focus on them singularly was very enjoyable. He has a gorgeous but small-ish cock that I can handle for many rounds and I cant stop touching him. I think we were trying too hard, and while it worked…since we will never discuss what we liked and what we didn’t; there is no room to grow. I wanted to hit his face (I’m a fan of the face slapping I realize) and he wanted me to spank him. If there was more communication beforehand, we could have worked something out. Not that I didn’t like the spanking, I just didn’t think the power came from me. He took control from the bottom, meh.
Sunday, May 18, 2008
Seeing THE boy, first installment
We met on a street corner. He was coming from a full day of work. I was coming from half a bottle of wine with dinner for courage and an energy drink to combat the time difference
The entire week I was preparing for this, I hadn’t seen him in over a year. I didn’t know how things would go. Would he still be interested, would I?
I told all my friends not to worry, this is just drinks, that’s it. We’re two old friends catching up after 5 years of a tumultuous relationship consisting of fantasy and disappointment. This was just a drink, catch up and then walk away so I can go live my life; closure.
The second I saw him all that shit went out of the window. I knew exactly what I was doing that evening, I was fucking him. We walked to a bar downtown; he’s holding a briefcase. I make some snotty comment about him having a real job and needing a briefcase; he counters my snotty remark by showing me the contents of his briefcase. Half a Subway sandwich. His attaché is a lunchbox.
He takes me to one of those fancy nightclubs that most cities have. According to my friend, it’s the swankiest place downtown. To me, it just seems like all the other generic nightclubs I have been to. Dark maroon walls, gothic/modern binary, $10 drinks, too loud music, bottle service. It’s a Thursday and the place is quiet when we get there. After our first drink the after work crowd has landed and the music is thumping and the bottle service is pushing in on our little corner. He’s trying to impress me; this is what he thinks I’m into. I do, a little, and I’m flattered he was trying to pick a meeting spot that he thought I would enjoy, although I would have preferred a little hole in the wall where we could talk, snuggle and perhaps get a little inappropriate.
We’re sitting too close, like people who want to get inside each other. I’m probably smiling too much. We make small talk, school, his job, funny stories. I laugh too much and he moves in closer, putting his hand around my shoulders. I look up into those green eyes and smile. I want to do this, I can’t do this; I’m going to do this.
I want to stay like this forever, the tension, the ease. We’re old friends and shy (yet freaky) lovers. I want to hold his face; I want to gently touch every part of his body and then hit him so hard so he can finally feel what it’s like to love him. I want to do all of this right here in this yuppie bar.
I want a quiet booth where we can flirt and catch up. I ask him if he knows anywhere near here where we can get a beer that doesn’t cost $7, I feel like a PBR.
“Well there is a bar by my apartment”
Now I know his apartment isn’t close, this is not a hop skip and a jump. This is a $25 cab ride or a 30 min train ride. I make a face at him that basically translates to “oh really?” He gets a little flustered; maybe worried that he misread my signals. Now, I wish I can say no to him, have some backbone, prove to him that he’s not always on my mind. But at that moment all I want to do is see him naked, see what underwear he has under his baggy business casual.
“I’ll drive you back in the morning…”
He says please and of course I relent. We leave the bar holding hands, I lean into him for support; he gives it. I want this forever, walking confidently next to him, at his side. His hands are large and his fingers wrap around mine protectively, tender yet strong.
I love his hands, I hate mine. Mine are spindly and look like old lady hands. They’re small and jointy. Hs hands are long, surprisingly gentle and soft for all the sports he plays. His hands represent him entirely. They’re long and delicate; yet look like they would be at home doing manual labor.
We’re walking through the city hand in hand, talking about everything…nothing. I just remember that I was touching him. I get so emotional around him because its so fleeting and I have such intense feelings.
We go back to the apartment he shares with 3 other people. I’m loud, I’m always loud, and I can’t help it. Especially when I’m slightly nervous, I turn loud and flirty. I get like national anthem at a baseball game loud. He keeps shh-ing me, I tickle him and nuzzle my head into his chest; it’s where I reach. He wraps his hands around me and we stand in his small kitchen, my head on his chest. I think we both needed some tenderness, closeness: intimacy. I always wonder how a boy like this likes me. I’m not ugly, but girls fawn over him. It feels comfortable, but there is always that insecurity whispering in my ear.
We grab an large bottle of cheap white wine and two glasses and head to his room. He puts music on, lights some candles and we sit in the glow, shadows jumping off our faces
The rest is hard to write. I of course ruin the mood and get serious. I love this kid, I love being with him and sometimes I can’t keep my trap shut and just enjoy the moment. He says all the right things, but at this point who knows if it’s the wine, the late hour, or his hard on talking.
To be continued…
The entire week I was preparing for this, I hadn’t seen him in over a year. I didn’t know how things would go. Would he still be interested, would I?
I told all my friends not to worry, this is just drinks, that’s it. We’re two old friends catching up after 5 years of a tumultuous relationship consisting of fantasy and disappointment. This was just a drink, catch up and then walk away so I can go live my life; closure.
The second I saw him all that shit went out of the window. I knew exactly what I was doing that evening, I was fucking him. We walked to a bar downtown; he’s holding a briefcase. I make some snotty comment about him having a real job and needing a briefcase; he counters my snotty remark by showing me the contents of his briefcase. Half a Subway sandwich. His attaché is a lunchbox.
He takes me to one of those fancy nightclubs that most cities have. According to my friend, it’s the swankiest place downtown. To me, it just seems like all the other generic nightclubs I have been to. Dark maroon walls, gothic/modern binary, $10 drinks, too loud music, bottle service. It’s a Thursday and the place is quiet when we get there. After our first drink the after work crowd has landed and the music is thumping and the bottle service is pushing in on our little corner. He’s trying to impress me; this is what he thinks I’m into. I do, a little, and I’m flattered he was trying to pick a meeting spot that he thought I would enjoy, although I would have preferred a little hole in the wall where we could talk, snuggle and perhaps get a little inappropriate.
We’re sitting too close, like people who want to get inside each other. I’m probably smiling too much. We make small talk, school, his job, funny stories. I laugh too much and he moves in closer, putting his hand around my shoulders. I look up into those green eyes and smile. I want to do this, I can’t do this; I’m going to do this.
I want to stay like this forever, the tension, the ease. We’re old friends and shy (yet freaky) lovers. I want to hold his face; I want to gently touch every part of his body and then hit him so hard so he can finally feel what it’s like to love him. I want to do all of this right here in this yuppie bar.
I want a quiet booth where we can flirt and catch up. I ask him if he knows anywhere near here where we can get a beer that doesn’t cost $7, I feel like a PBR.
“Well there is a bar by my apartment”
Now I know his apartment isn’t close, this is not a hop skip and a jump. This is a $25 cab ride or a 30 min train ride. I make a face at him that basically translates to “oh really?” He gets a little flustered; maybe worried that he misread my signals. Now, I wish I can say no to him, have some backbone, prove to him that he’s not always on my mind. But at that moment all I want to do is see him naked, see what underwear he has under his baggy business casual.
“I’ll drive you back in the morning…”
He says please and of course I relent. We leave the bar holding hands, I lean into him for support; he gives it. I want this forever, walking confidently next to him, at his side. His hands are large and his fingers wrap around mine protectively, tender yet strong.
I love his hands, I hate mine. Mine are spindly and look like old lady hands. They’re small and jointy. Hs hands are long, surprisingly gentle and soft for all the sports he plays. His hands represent him entirely. They’re long and delicate; yet look like they would be at home doing manual labor.
We’re walking through the city hand in hand, talking about everything…nothing. I just remember that I was touching him. I get so emotional around him because its so fleeting and I have such intense feelings.
We go back to the apartment he shares with 3 other people. I’m loud, I’m always loud, and I can’t help it. Especially when I’m slightly nervous, I turn loud and flirty. I get like national anthem at a baseball game loud. He keeps shh-ing me, I tickle him and nuzzle my head into his chest; it’s where I reach. He wraps his hands around me and we stand in his small kitchen, my head on his chest. I think we both needed some tenderness, closeness: intimacy. I always wonder how a boy like this likes me. I’m not ugly, but girls fawn over him. It feels comfortable, but there is always that insecurity whispering in my ear.
We grab an large bottle of cheap white wine and two glasses and head to his room. He puts music on, lights some candles and we sit in the glow, shadows jumping off our faces
The rest is hard to write. I of course ruin the mood and get serious. I love this kid, I love being with him and sometimes I can’t keep my trap shut and just enjoy the moment. He says all the right things, but at this point who knows if it’s the wine, the late hour, or his hard on talking.
To be continued…
Thursday, May 8, 2008
My friends are beginning to get married
I’m a wee bit lonely. Not that I don’t have activities I can do to fill my days. I truly do enjoy spending time alone. Hanging out can be a lot of work sometimes and it makes me tired and weary. I love people, I love socializing, but there are times when you want to be able to sit in your pajamas. There are only a few people I feel comfortable with getting comfortable (does that make sense?). I am ready to find that person whom I’m attracted to but can also be included in alone time. I am looking for someone to share downtime with. I want to be able to laugh so hard, I know I look funny. I want to be able to try some new sexual position or even just work out to an exercise video with them in the room and not be nervous that I 1- look stupid 2- might fart.
I think that’s love; being around someone who enjoys life so much, the big events and the small, that you don’t mind occasionally looking funny in front of. You find their funny faces endearing and they find yours cute. I think they call this intimacy.
I’ve had this with some friends over the years, that level of closeness. I let my guard down, don’t worry about being around them makeup-less and laugh until I almost pee. I want this with someone who I can also fuck. I want the added bonus of regular sex that most definitely includes funny faces and weird noises. I want my needs to be your wants, and your wants to be my needs. I want us both to be able to hold that warm squishy center that is vulnerability and finally break down all my walls.
My friends are beginning to get married, and I am worried I am either going to be alone forever or will have to start settling.
I think that’s love; being around someone who enjoys life so much, the big events and the small, that you don’t mind occasionally looking funny in front of. You find their funny faces endearing and they find yours cute. I think they call this intimacy.
I’ve had this with some friends over the years, that level of closeness. I let my guard down, don’t worry about being around them makeup-less and laugh until I almost pee. I want this with someone who I can also fuck. I want the added bonus of regular sex that most definitely includes funny faces and weird noises. I want my needs to be your wants, and your wants to be my needs. I want us both to be able to hold that warm squishy center that is vulnerability and finally break down all my walls.
My friends are beginning to get married, and I am worried I am either going to be alone forever or will have to start settling.
Monday, May 5, 2008
Weekend Getaway
I saw the boy this weekend. THE boy, original boy. That kid rocks my socks off. It's so easy to fall back into him. Will give details once I can think about it .
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