Not The Experience, But the Numbers

The number of men I’ve been with since the start of my sexual life is in the double digits.  It’s not something  I readily tell people.  It’s not even something I’ll offer up to a current lover.  For some reason, it shames me to admit it.  Ok, maybe it’s not just some reason, maybe there’s a definitive reason.  There is a definitive reason and it is this:  My mainly Italian controlling ex boyfriend.

At the time I was dating him, the number of men I had had sex with was in the high single digits.  However the amount of men I had given blowjobs to, was a tad higher.  And I made mention of this because I thought total honesty was expected and appreciated.  Plus, oral sex is sex, or a form of it.   I was wrong.

I’m a whore. A slut.  Disgusting.  Worthless.  I am all these things.  I was all these things.  

I helped to egg on the image he had of me as a slut and whore.  When he asked me a question about the men I had been with, I told him the honest answer.  I didn’t hold anything back.   I knew his reaction because he told me from the start that I disgusted him and anything I said after that would disgust him.  I tried to fight his perception of me, but he was right.   There was no way I could make him see differently.

I know I should be proud of who I was . . . there’s nothing to be ashamed of having had a multitude of men. Even tho at my younger age, it wasn’t for the experience, it was for the pleasure of it.  I wasn’t very discriminating.  Anybody that wanted to give me pleasure, I was there. 

Nowadays however, I take a look back and realize that the now-me doesn’t want to do that again. Hearing about a friend’s many partners in one month makes me wonder what the hell she is/was thinking.  The now-me just wants to find that one man I can have many, many experiences with.  Someone I can experiment with and not feel judged or labeled.  However if he were to  call me a whore or slut during the act, I won’t mind.

Virginity Lost . . . Again

As of this past Saturday my non-existant sex life has become null and void.  Altho, I have a feeling it will become quite active again as of the following day.

I had a date.  A date that was suppose to be a mini-golfing extravaganza w/ a friendly wager involved.  However since torrential downpours and poor planning on his part did that activity in, we opted for movie watching.  At my place. 

 No good can come of a man and woman watching a movie where there is a bedroom a few feet away.  Unless you consider awkward getting to know you kisses and even more awkward, “Is he going to fuck me?” questions running thru my head something good.  I suppose in the end, it was good.  Good in the fact that my born-again virgin status has left me for the  time being. 

It started off innocently enough w/ him showing up on my door at about 9:45 in the evening.  He selected a movie of mine to watch since we seemed to have had mixed signals about who was going to be renting a movie.  Popped in the movie and away we went.  It wasn’t like the movie theatres where you yell at a person behind you yacking away about nothing or making those movie going sounds, “oooooh,”  “ahhhhhh,”  “NO! Don’t go in there you fucking idiot!!”  But we only managed to shut up for about 20 minutes of almost 2 hour movie.  The time in between the quiet he spent picking on me.  Or mimmicking me, as he says.  Either way, it was fun and I can’t complain.

After the movie ended the very inevitable, “Are we going to fuck?” resounded thru my head loudly.  Loud enough for me to make the first move and bust out my Bite Me necklace.  I love being bitten, so this helped get his mouth in the right position for kissing me.  We played around w/ that for awhile before I worked our way to my bedroom. 

He had me pushed up against my bed.  My bare breasts in his hands.  His mouth doing torturous things to my neck. My hands stripping him of his shirt. We climbed aboard the bed and he wasted no time in getting my pants off, his fingers up my cunt and his mouth on my clit.  I like a man who goes down on me from the very beginning.  (Altho, I do like a man who’ll eat my pussy like a champ after he’s pumped me till I’m frothing and laps up all the juice he helped to cause.)

After a few raging minutes of me trying unsuccessfully to avoid his mouth and the pleasure he was giving me, he came up for air.  He kissed me.  I do so enjoy tasting myself on a tongue.  I can lick and lap at it all I want w/out fear of feeling like I’m depraved that I want to taste myself.  

I unbuckled his belt.  I freed his cock.  At this time, I learned the man does not own a shaving implement to help control the landscape.  However, I did not let this deter me. I forged on and pushed his pants down his hips.  He then moved to the side and frantically tore his pants and SpongeBob Squarepants boxers off.  I, of course, did the obligatory kissing down his body before I greedily swallowed his cock.  I love the taste of cock.  Especially since I’ve deprived myself of it for so long.  (And have been deprived of it by another.)

I bobbed, I weaved, I swirled.  I sucked, I fucked. I stroked and fondled.  I did everything I remember doing back when I was a blow job giving queen.  I was loving his moans.  His groans of satisfaction.  His, “you’re killing me,” “you’re driving me crazy,” pleasure driven chatter.   I wanted to give it all. I wanted to take it all. 

However my pussy was yelling for attention.  It had been so long feeling that first sure stroke.  And I had minutes to wait.  I don’t know if he needed time to recouperate from the tongue lashing I so richly enjoyed … or if he was as unsure of having sex as I was. 

He spanked my ass. He pulled my hair.  He ran his fingertips down my back.  He bit my neck. He licked my lips.  I turned around and had him spooning me.  I could feel his hard cock trying to search out my pussy.  I arched into him trying to line him up. Hoping upon hope he’d get the picture. 

I turned on my back, placed my leg over his. He thrust his hips and ……… OMG!  He felt so damn good!  I wanted that feeling to stay forever. I love the feeling of having something sliding into me for the first time.  It never gets any better than that.  (Ok, except for that hard driving pounding that only doggy style can give me.) He started fucking me.  And I mean fucking me.  But evidently that wasn’t a good enough position.

He threw my leg over his shoulder and got on his knees.  He fucked me ruthlessly. I was helpless. I loved it.  He laid his weight on top of me. Driving the breath from me as he stroked and ravaged my tight cunt.   I was almost head over heels for this man who was giving what my neglected pussy has been needing for well over a year.   And then he came.

I didn’t want it to stop. I wanted more. I wanted assorted positions. I wanted the thrashing I had been craving for what seems like forever.  I wanted more sweat. I wanted screaming. (Mine, of course.) And pleading, begging.  Some more spanking. A lot more hair pulling. 

But it had been 2 months for him.  I suppose I should cut him a break.  He laid there breathing hard and praising my fellatio skills.  Telling me he’s sorry he didn’t last that long.  I felt way too good.   I’ve heard all this before but coming from him. . . . I’ll take it as it was meant to be: a compliment.

I’ll have to wait to see if this has a to be continued after it.

This Can’t Be Happening!

This just in. . . . OM loves blow jobs.  But………… Yes, my god there’s a fucking but……… damn shame.  Blow jobs are in his “no sex” clause.   Evidently, I can suck and lick on his balls, but placing that nice fucking cock in my mouth is a no go.  

Oh holy fuck.  Ya know, that kind of pisses me off, especially since I was just getting back into wanting to give head….And w/out receiving anything for my attentions.  

I was actually starting to daydream.  Inviting him over.  Getting him thru the door, then either a.) dragging him into my bedroom, get him comfy on the bed, then strip him from the waist down, and go to down on his dick; or b.) tear his pants off at the door and get on my knees and lick, suck till my heart’s content or till he explodes in my mouth. 

But NO…. Fuck NO it ain’t going to happen.   My only hope is that I wear him down.  But there’s no fucking way of that.  Oh it’s just so fucking aggravating. 

That DAMN Light Switch!

“It turns off, turns on, gets stuck in the middle and the light flickers.”  It’s fucking flickering.  And it’s driving me absolutely fucking mad.   More on this  in a minute.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder is a load of fucking crap.  Except for the in the case of the OIC, altho, lately I’ve come to learn, I don’t like him ignoring me.  I don’t like him taking me “seriously.” Actually, I’ve come to loathe that word w/ a passion and I hope someone kills it.   With OIC, his being MIA isn’t making me fonder, nor is being out of sight making him out of mind.  But that’s neither here nor there.

As for the lousy lay I call the OPW, I think one Saturday of not answering my phone has cured him of his irrational need to waste a couple minutes of my day.

And along the lines of those who come back into my life, Eagles has become public enemy #1.   Ok, well my public enemy #1.  I am about to hurt him, if I could ever get my hands on him.  Which ok, will be never. So I guess my dreams of serious physical harm will never come to fruition.  He’s been giving me the run around and I’m getting sick of it, as you can see.  And I’m getting tired of his laid back view of us meeting.  It’ll happen when it happens.   Ha!  I don’t think so.  I don’t think I’ll ever meet him and ya know, I’m “seriously” okay w/ that. Honest.  I’m not even physically attracted to the man, but I know he’s okay w/ how I look which makes him the best candidate to fuck me silly.   After he made me a promise he doesn’t intend to keep because he’s “not perfect,” well, I don’t know if I want him in my life as anything, let alone a lover.

Ok, so back to this damn light switch that’s on the fritz.  It’s been almost a month since OM has had his head between my legs giving me the severe tongue lashing I so deserve.   In my mind, since it’s been so long, I came to the conclusion that what happened wasn’t happening again, and I became okay w/ that.  Him and I, just friends.  Nuff said.  The light switch actually turned off.  For a couple weeks, I actually didn’t have anyone to fantasize about before falling asleep.  It was frustrating, but freeing.   But then last Friday, he made some damn comments and that damn light switch turned on again.

On. . . . Again.   But then quickly got turned back off.   But then today.  Turned. Back. On.  It’s his fucking fault.  Actually it’s my fucking fault for lusting after his ass so fucking much.  And it’s all because of his blue eyes.  His white unbuttoned collared dress shirt/blue dress pants.  His soft fuzzy hair.  His white chin stubble.  The way he fucking walks, for Christ’s sake!  It’s his fucking fault! And then I get home to find an email that he sent last night.  That I would have gotten last night if I would have thought he’d email me again.   But I didn’t, because of what I thought!  Arggghhhhhh. 

So we’re back to him wanting to eat my pussy.  And if…. IF…. there is a next time, I’m wrapping my lips around his dick!  But I’m not counting on it.

Wanted: Pleasant Soreness, Again.

In a previous email sent Thursday to me OM inquired as to whether or not I’d be home Friday night.  The answer was an affirmative.  And he asked “I can eat your pussy too if you would like?”  That was another affirmative answer, along w/ a however.  I told him I’m shy, I can’t make first moves.  He said that wouldn’t be a problem.  So Thursday night I was lucky enough to be able to get to sleep at a decent time, but I remained nervous and anxious thru out the night and into Friday….All the way until he was here.   And then I was okay, but a little nervous wondering if he’d actually want to go thru w/ it.

He did I found out about an hour or so after he was here.  But prior to that,  we were bullshitting.  Except he finally told me when he came to think of me in a sexual nature.  He said it’s because I spoke of sex w/ him.  I was a little shocked, because well – - – we talked about sex often . . . And at work, at that.   I guess he never really thought that I wouldn’t mind doing things of a sexual nature w/ him.   I guess our talks of sex had to be one on one, w/ nobody else around for him to grasp that  what I was always saying to him, was something I’d like to do w/ him.  (Don’t know if that made sense, but it does to me, I suppose.)  So anyways.  We talked about our sexual conversations and he clarified for me that he meant for him traditional sex was too emotionally/feelings involved for him.  (I’m wondering if the only sex he ever had was when he was in relationships?)  So he understands me, that I can have sex w/out getting attached.  

So the lights are blazing as we’re sitting around the table and he finally realizes that the light above is flickering and has been for quite some time.  So I turn it off and proceed to turn on the other light I always use.  He stands up and just walks around for a minute and then looks at me as I’m about to sit back down and he grabs my hand.   He says, “Well, since I have to make the  first move, I’m doing it.”  Ok……………*Internal screaming here*  He walked me into my bedroom, said the light coming from the living room was enough to see by and told me to take off my clothes.  I did that, he took off some of  his.  Told me to prop myself up on the bed…. He gets on the bed w/ me.  I spread my legs and the next thing I know his fingers are spreading my pussy lips.   Then I feel his tongue. 

And what a nice fucking tongue he has!  And such nice fucking fingers too!  And a dirty mouth!  All quite wonderful things!   And I even happen to like his cock.  Altho, I didn’t really get to suck on it, nor did I get to touch it the way I really want to.  But I did get to suck on his balls and swallow his come. 

I don’t really know exactly how long he was eating and fingering me but  I do know it was for over an hour and a half.  And my pussy knows it too because I have that slightly sore feeling down there.  And every time I feel that slightly sore feeling, I smile.  

He said he’d be back the next day and he’d bring along a vibrator.  He never called but I did get an email giving his excuse of having to take his daughter somewhere and then picking her up.  He didn’t say when he’d be able to come over next.  I get the feeling he won’t be over again and I’m not heartbroken or upset about it.  In fact, I kind of feel that’s how it was going to be anyways.   I don’t think I mind.  I had my fun, not complete fun, but I got to find out what it feels like to run my fingers thru his hair.  What his mouth feels like on my pussy and my legs.  What his cock looks like and his come tastes like.  I guess I got almost everything I was lusting after.  So in a way, I’ m satisfied. 

Giddy, Wetness Because of a Shirt? A Shirt??

Monday OM came back to work from being off for the better part of the previous week due to sickness.  And upon his return he just happen to be wearing something I find extremely attractive on a man.  Something of the working stiff kind.   A dressy white button down shirt. . . tucked into navy blue dress pants.   The pants can be pretty much anything . . . but it’s the shirt… My god is it the shirt!

Now, I haven’t received an email from him since  early last week, even tho I tried to find out how he was when he was off.  So I was kinda thinking along the, “oh, he’s not interest anymore. . . His wife and him are back on better terms. . . yadda yadda yadda.”  And then I emailed him Monday night to let him know that  I liked what he was wearing during the  day and that there is something extremely sexy about unbuttoned collars (on dress shirts.)   Tuesday he didn’t wear anything but the usual sweater over a polo, so I figured he didn’t get my email.  Now last night, he emailed me about the white dress shirt, but I didn’t get it till today – no idea he read it . . . But I had an inkling when I saw him today wearing another white button down shirt w/ black dress pants.   My face was beaming.  I had a smile from ear to ear.   I couldn’t help but feel completely giddy for the rest of the day; that he possibly wanted me to be happy.  And happy I was.  Altho, when I read the email he sent me last night today, I guess he wanted me to be more than just happy. . . He wanted something else . . . And he got it.  Oh yeah, he got it.

OM: I just got done ironing another white shirt for tomorrow.  Your pussy should be wet all day

He got his wish . . . And I’m getting mine for Friday.  Yes, I made a request of him.  He has this black suede button down shirt that he wears w/ jeans and lets it untucked.   He knows that I’m into textures. I love feeling things.  Like his coat. I didn’t think about it until after I told him I like the feel of it, but the more I do, the more it reminds me of a man’s cock.  Soft and silky.  Minus the hardness, but soft and silky nonetheless.   This is what his black suede shirt reminds me of too.  Kind of.  But I won’t really know until I touch it.  Touch him. While he’s wearing it.  And I think he knows him wearing it is going to make me itchburnyearn to touch it.  I even told him I’ll have to touch him.  I just hope he doesn’t think I need something soft on him to actually touch him.  Because I’m sure I could find something about his body that will satisfy my need for touch. 

**********

On a side note: I’ve been sitting here after reading that email, thinking.  I’ve had dreams about kissing him.  And I would love nothing more than to feel his lips on mine, his tongue delving into my mouth, trading breath for breath.  But, I don’t think I could handle it.  I know if I ever kissed him, I wouldn’t want to stop.  I don’t know if I’m scared he won’t live up to his dream self.  Or if he’ll totally surpass it.  Wow, I wouldn’t be able to handle that.   Because kissing, kissing leads to so many other things.  I don’t feel a Pretty Woman is needed, because I don’t feel that kissing is personal/private, shared between lovers.  

But because I’d want to feel his cock sliding in between my pussy lips, like his tongue sliding in between my other lips.  But he’s already said that sex was out of the question between us.  (However, having him lick my pussy and ass is totally not.  Nor is his dick in my mouth.  Or his come.)  He said sex between us would lead to feelings. His or mine, I’m not sure…And, I tried to make him believe me that I’m not wired that way . . . But, I don’t know.  I don’t want to just settle for his tongue on my clit, in my cunt.  I don’t want to just settle for his dick on my tongue, in my mouth.   I don’t want to just settle for tasting his come w/ out being able to taste my pussy juice on him. 

I know, I’m a pushy, greedy broad.