So . . . I Gave Him a Kiss

I walked up to the Older Man as he was reading something on his computer.  I said, “Do you want a kiss?”  He did a double look at me, kind of smiled and pretty much said, “What?”  I held my hand out to him.  I said, “A Hershey’s kiss.”  It was a white chocolate peppermint kiss.  He took it out of my hand.   He unwrapped it.  Placed it in his mouth and enjoyed it.  I continued to walk by him.  And as I did, I said, “Tell me if you want one later.”   He said, “Okay.”  I blushed and mentally castigated myself the whole way out into the hallway.  What was I thinking????

After I came back from a little excursion, I went to my desk.  Got another Kiss.  And gave it to him.  I told him I like em because they taste like Andes Mints.  And I think they do.  And I proceeded to tell him that minty kisses are appreciated.  He said that it was good to know and the he’d “remember that.”  I walked away.

Now here’s the thing.  I’m moving.  And he knows where I’m moving too, because prior to this episode, he was at my new place.  He was there for an hour, give or take.  Longer than I thought he’d be there.  Longer than . . . well, just longer.  He actually put himself to work and corrected my wobbly frig.  Totally his own doing.  We discussed what I’ll be doing to the place as I live there.  (Carpets needs be replaced.  New gas furnace.  Redo kitchen due to new stove being put in.  Washer/dryer plumbing being redirected.  Expanding the bathroom.  The colors I’ll paint the walls.  The vinyl flooring being retiled. )  And he told me I had a nice pad. 

The next day he brought me some cleaning supplies for my kitchen floor,  which I have not used yet.  I asked him what he would like as payment. I just thought I’d give him the money for the things.  He said, “Dinner.”  Ok, yeah, my jaw dropped. . . As it is wont to do when he says such things.  Then he added onto it, naming all the people we usually go out to lunch w/ on occassion.  I don’t know if that’s what he meant all along, or if he said that accordingly to my hang jaw reaction.   Either way. . . .

He told me has some left over wooden tiles he could bring me for the floor in front of my front door.  He didn’t have enough, after he checked.  But he did have some other tile his mother bought.  He brought that over.   And this was after the Hershey’s Kiss Episode. 

He was only there for a little while.  Like maybe a half hour.  But it was funny.  He kept pacing all over the place.  Talking rather fast. Saying nonesensical things.   Talking about Justin Timberlake, (of all fucking people.)  And he complimented me on my painting skills.   Then, he whisked himself out my front door.  Looked like he was practically running from me.  Not like the last time he left, he took his good old time. (No pun intended.)

It was kind of humorous.  Why would he run from me? Was he actually running from me?  Was it maybe because he remembers I offered him a kiss?  I hope he didn’t think that I was going to jump him, or even expect him to ask me for a kiss.  I wasn’t looking at his mouth as much as I usually do.  And I didn’t stare at his crotch as much as I usually do. (He was wearing those jeans that I appreciate so much, tho!)  I wish I could know what was going thru his mind. 

Ya know, even tho I offered the kiss, I don’t think I would have gave it if he asked.  But we’ll never know.  Or will we?

Controlled, But Too Much. Part II

 . . . continued . . .

I don’t really know how to write the 2nd part of this.  It feels kind of weird.   He was so damn controlling, and I let him control me because, and I’m reiterating this: I thought I deserved it.    If I didn’t think I deserved all the things he did to me, I wouldn’t have went along w/ it.  And nowadays if someone even remotely suggests telling me what to do, I tend to go off on them.  Or just completely cut them out of my life.  I have no time in my life for someone who wants to change me to fit their mold.   Accept me for who I am.

So not only was he controlling my emotional well being and my financial stability, he was controlling my sexuality.  He made me do some things that I wouldn’t have thought of ever really doing just because I would have been too shy to ask.  And he made me do some things, looking back, it kind of grosses me out. 

But I guess that’s okay since I disgusted and repulsed him w/ my past sexual experiences that he made me tell him about.  Enough so that he took to calling me a slut and a whore, because well —- when I’ve been w/ more men than he’s been w/ women, what else am I suppose to be but a slut and a whore?  (I am being facetious and rhetorical there!)

One of the things I liked sexually that he made me do was lick his asshole.  I was embarrassed by it at first.  I thought it was something that shouldn’t be done.  I thought it was just wrong.  Why would you want to stick your tongue where someone shits?   Ah, this is where taking a shower before comes in handy.  And it’s appreciated.  (Boy is it appreciated!)  The first time I did that to him, I was inanimate.  I just used my tongue.  That’s it.  I didn’t really like it because he was straddling my chest.  And it still felt wrong. 

But he made me do it again.  And this time he was laying down on his belly.  And he told me to do it and have fun doing it.  Well, I got animated this time.  Licking, kissing, using my hands, rubbing my breasts across his ass, up and down his back.  I ran my hands up and down his legs, fondled his balls.  Licked them, too!!   I actually had fun!  And I completely enjoyed it if the wetness of my pussy was any indication.

Altho, what happened after I had my fun, was of no fun to me.  He decided that he wasn’t going to fuck me.  At least not w/ his dick.  He was going to fuck me w/ his big toe, on his right foot.  (It’s amazing what I remember.)  He made me lick and suck on his toe like it was his cock.  And then he made me part my nether lips so he could insert his toe.  I felt humiliated.  I felt embarrassed.  I felt dirty.  All I kept thinking was, “Please take your toe out of me.  This is so wrong.  Please stop!”  But I didn’t say anything to him, because I knew he would just stop giving me anything altogether. 

I took what he wanted to give to me.  And like I think I’ve said before.  It wasn’t all that much.  All he would ever do was kiss me, lick/suck on my nipples, and fuck me.  My ass or my pussy.  He would never go down on me.  He wouldn’t bother to think about licking my asshole!  Or kissing my toes.

But I had to suck his dick at least twice a day.  Oh . . . no, I mean I had to let him skull fuck me.  In essence that’s exactly what it was.  He was in control, he was the one holding my head and moving his hips.   He just told me to stay put and place my hand on his dick where he wanted it to stop so I wouldn’t gag.  (Sorry, no deep throating for me, but I make up for it in enthusiasm.)   The thing is when a dick gets nice and lubed up from spit, a hand will not be a deterrent from keeping part of it out.  So in reality, I didn’t have any control over how much of his dick I sucked.  But gee, I thank him for letting me think that.   

This right there, was what made me lose my love of sucking cock.  Doing it and getting nothing in return.  His pleasure was not enough for me.  So . . . he is the reason other guys have not gotten the opportunity and experience of having my lips around their dick.   And having to give nothing in return.

***

My whole outlook on life, or relationships, has changed since him.   I will never again be in that kind of controlling relationship.  I would like a relationship that is 50/50.   If you won’t give it, you won’t receive it! 

The one and only good thing that came out of this is I found that licking a man’s asshole is a huge turn on for me.  And, I guess I can grudgingly give him the controlling aspect of sex.  Altho, the way I see it and want it: It’s got to be non-humiliating for me.  And I have to be able to do to you what you do to me.  

50/50.

Whip It Out, Big Boy!

I find that giving fellatio is a turn-on.

Ok.  I lied. 

It use to be a turn-on.  Back when giving them meant power to me.   Having a man’s dick in between my lips, running my tongue around and down him.  Fondling his balls gently in my hands… (Ok, sometimes not so gently.) Licking up and down, around, back down, hollowing my cheeks out.  It was a turn-on. 

To have a man’s pleasure in your hands.  Giving it.  Taking it away.  Prolonging it. It was a crazy thrill for me.  I use to meet guys and just give them blow jobs.  Nothing in return.  I just licked my lips, and walked away, when I was done.

If they had their hands in my hair, all the better.  I especially liked it when they pulled my hair out of my face so they could see better.  I liked looking up at them,  watching their eyes.  Seeing them watching their dick disappear into my mouth.   

The moans,  groans, the quickened breath, words of encouragement, the pleading.  Mmmmmmmmm. . .

It’s almost orgasmic thinking of the way it use to be for me.

It’s That Rape Thing, Again

The one guy, Eagles, that I wrote about in a previous blog has mentioned violating me.  Raping me.  And he said it jokingly. If only he knew.

We were talking late last night online and well, I was tired so I kind of went along w/ all he was saying.  And he mentioned, once again, he might rape me.  (That is, if what I told him prior conversations months ago, doesn’t stand now.)

He said we’ll get the niceities out of the way and then he’s taking me.  I asked him where he’s  taking me. 

“Eagles”:  I’m taking you over the tip of my cock straight down to my balls.

Ok, I’ll admit, that sent a tingle to my pussy.

I love it when a guy talks dirty to me.  Tells me what he wants to do to me.  What he wants me to do to him.  I love it when he uses those naughty words.  Like cock, dick, pussy, cunt.  And definitely, definitely fuck.  Oh how I love that word.

And w/ Eagles, rape is fast becoming a favorite.  (Hmmm, whoever would have thought?)

I think it’s funny that he keeps bringing up that word. And I’m not sure if he’s noticed that I haven’t said yay or nay to it.  Well, I guess if it’s rape, there really isn’t an answer I can give him.  He can only worry if his actions would land him in jail, or I’ll ask him for more.  But really, once you’ve been “raped” can you be raped again?  I think after the first time, there’s only being forceful. 

And he does seem to have a very dominant bone in his body.  Considering he wants to take me.  And I have no say in this.  But I did tell him once, before he became a damn wuss, that as soon as he walked in my door, he could strip me of my clothes and fuck the hell out of me.   I made him that promise.  But w/ what all happened, well. . . . do I still want him to do that?  I think I might just tell him no and see if he really will rape me. 

I think if he does, I just might have to kiss his feet!

Controlled, But Too Much

A few years back I had this X. He was short (5’7″.)  He was mainly Italian.  He was older, but not by much.  His age was not something to joke about.   He lived w/ his mom, dad, and sister.  His hair was thinning.  He had issues w/ his eyebrows.   He lived 2 hours away from me.  Yes . . .  I met him on the internet, in a chatroom.  He was the one who started our conversing. He was the one who picked me.

Our relationship started sometime in the beginning March.  He had me professing love by the middle of the month.  Altho at the time, I only “liked him more than I should have.”  But he wanted to hear those 3 words.  So I told him.  It wasn’t that hard.  It was pretty easily done. And even w/out him saying it back.   And me not totally meaning it, at all.

We were talking on the phone.  Constantly.  I don’t remember a minute we weren’t on the phone if I wasn’t w/ him or at work.  And even then I was using work’s dime to phone him for an hour here and there.  Which, I do feel bad about.  I thought I had a good long distance phone plan.  5 cents a minute.  Not shabby.  (Not what I ended up thinking in the end. Er, middle.)   Sometimes while we were talking he’d have to go to the bathroom or get a drink.  Instead of hanging up, cuz I thought it wouldn’t take more than 5 minutes, he’d set the phone down and do his thing.  This one time.  Oh, this one time, he left me sitting on the phone for 30 minutes waiting for him.  He said he got to talking w/ his sister.  Hmmm, must have forgotten about me.  I did mention, this was on my phone plan.  MY. PHONE. PLAN.  Not his.  If he called me, it was to tell me to call him back.  Because he was jobless at the moment and couldn’t afford to pay for LD.

I got directions to his house. Sorry, his parents’ house.  Which I wasn’t allowed to go to if his family was there.  I did say he lived 2 hours from me, right?  I only was there twice.  Met his mom, once . . . by accident, for a passing minute.   All the other times I was w/ him, it was at a hotel.  For the weekend.  Sometimes long weekends, if he made the request of me.  Or maybe I should demand of me.  And I paid for it.  It had to have a frig in it.  And it had to be an end unit.  I had to pay for it!  Oh . . . and I had to pay for the food. That we got delivered, twice a day.  And I had to buy him a carton of cigarettes.  Each Time!

You are noticing how much money I’m shelling out, right? And you are realizing, it’s not because I wanted to, but because HE. MADE. ME. DO. IT.  

This was his way of making sure I was his.  This was what he needed to make me know I was his.  There was no ignoring it, I was his.  As long as he told me what to do, when to do, and who to do it w/.

Oh, did I mention I had to change my email account.  Not just change it, but cancel it and start another one.  To his specifications.  And I had to change my phone number.  And the only person who was allowed to have it was him.  And he grudgingly let me give it to my family.

Did I mention . . . . I went along w/ all of this?

Yes, I did.  And I did it, because I thought I deserved it.  I went nights months w/out sleep.  I stopped paying my bills.  I started smoking 2 packs a day.  I drove to him.  I listened to what he had to say about his ex . . .

His ex was perfect.  And from Colorado, or somewhere out midwest.  She had the most perfect boobs.  They were big, but there was no sag. They were perky.

I have a friend who has a nice, BIG dick.   Bigger than his.  And I told him that.  Because he asked.  We broke up.   For about 2 hours.  We got back together because I cried and begged.   (My friend still has the bigger dick! So pppfffffttttt!)

I didn’t mention it, but he wouldn’t come visit me.  In the beginning it was because he would never lower himself to be seen where I live.  Then it was because he didn’t have a car, because he had some mad-mom-in-a-minivan hit him.  (He got put on Oxycodone.   He loved them. I didn’t.  Worse woozy feeling ever, but w/ a dull pain behind it.  No thanks.)

This is just the icing.  This is what I didn’t like about him.  This is the controlling part I abhor when I look back on it.   I ran up a $3000+ phone bill on him for 6 months.  I bought him a $250 air conditioner.  Plus some football paraphernalia.  I paid for motel rooms at $60 a night, I bought food at $25-30 a meal. I bought him $25 cartons of cigs.  I paid gas money, tolls, oil changes, etc.  I even got cable TV so we could watch shows together.  All in all, I wish I never got w/ him, he wasn’t worth the monetary value.

. . . to be continued . . .

My Parents’ Friend.. Oh My!

I mentioned my parents’ have a friend who is 10 years older than me.  Married, w/ child.

Well, I’m going to be going on vacation w/ all the wackjobs next summer.  From Saturday to Saturday.  Close quarters and all that good “we share responsibilities” shit.  I found out thru mother dearest that he’s happy I will be going w/.  Hmmm.  Yay!    I know why he’s happy.  It’s because he has another person to pick on.  But his kind of picking is okay w/ me.  Altho kind of awkward when around his wife.

I actually spent some time w/ him this summer…. w/ his family and mine.  And we had fun.  We all went swimming.  And the first thing he does is splash me.  Doesn’t give me time to get in the water, just splashes me.   Then he gets his kid involved.  Picking him up and throwing him at me for a bigger splash.   I tried my damndest to get him back, cuz, I’m just like that.  I like being playful w/ the right person. And evidently he’s the right person.   And it’s so awkward because his wife was just watching us.  Too wussified to get in the water. 

What I wouldn’t give for a few alone minutes w/ him.  Muahahahahahaha (that’s my evil laugh, btw.)  S’not going to happen tho.   I was actually offered the extra room they have in their camper when I visited this past summer.  And I was really wondering….. “if only she knew that wouldn’t be good,” especially since she was leaving at 2am to go to work….. But the kid would have been in the way.  Eh.  Well.  Hell. 

Here’s a big huge ass dilemma, if he ever were to act on inspiration.  (If he were ever so inclined.)  He’s a friend of my parents’…. just as much as the wife.  How awkward would it be to be around my parents then?  For him, the wife, me?  Oy!   

However, I know he’s loyal, faithful and all that other marriage vow BS.  So I can dream.  Awkward!!