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.

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.

The One Pump Wonder

Yes, that guy who is selfish and only thinks of himself and what will get him off is now back in my life and looking for sex.   The only reason he’s back is because he broke up w/ his girlfriend.  And of course, I’m the first girl he comes running back to.  And all because I’m willing to experiment w/ him.  And there’s some level of “respect” between us.  And because I wore my black robe for him. 

It’s downright ridiculous.  Everything in my life is getting downright ridiculous.  I have the OM who only wants to lick my cunt, finger my ass, and jerk off into my mouth.  I have the One I Crave who has just now started to maybe take me seriously.  And now this dumbass motherfucker who thinks his tiny pinky dick is something that gets me off.  

I guilted the latter man into sending me a picture of his dick the other night.  I didn’t bother to tell him I received it.  I was laughing too much because it’s sad.  I’m going to wonder if I’ll start receiving phone calls around 9:30-10:00 on Saturdays from him.  Because, ya know, I had to bring up the infrequency of our last exploits.  Which wasn’t often at all. I don’t even know if often is rightly defined for the lack of frequency we had.   But he said if we should start fucking again, I can possibly count on every Saturday.  During the weeks, meh, not going to happen.  (I am jumping for joy.)

Ok, so he also said that he realizes he should have participated more in our sexcapes instead of just laying back and letting me service him.  Which I did as soon as he walked in the door till he walked back out the door.   He kept saying that he didn’t know what I wanted, that he’d try to do something but I’d always brush his hands away.  Ya know, this is true.  I would do that, but it was a test.  One he failed miserably.  If he would have just taken charge, he would have gotten everything, EVERYTHING, he wanted plus some.

I just thought of this.  I had to explain to him about the last time he was over.   Remember that? He took off his own shirt.  His own shirt!  His! His own shirt!   He didn’t see anything wrong w/ that.   Imagine what I saw wrong w/ that.   Let’s imagine.  If he wanted to fuck me, and he did by what all was pouring from his mouth, he should have taken off my shirt.  My shirt!  Mine!  My shirt!   I had to fucking explain that to him.  This is where I bang my head on the table or any hard metal surface would do, because if you wanna fuck, why not take charge and rip the woman’s clothes off.  That right there would tell her you mean business.  Especially when said woman would probably rock your fucking world for taking charge like that.  (Especially when she told you she would!)  Hell I’d fuck him till his dick fell off if he even showed one iota of dominance.   

Will he ever take a chance? That’s not the question.  The question is: What’s better, his dick or an erotica book?  I’ll leave you guessing. 

What Goes Around . . .

I met a 19 year old 2 years ago.  On the internet.  It was around 11pm when we first started chatting.  And around midnight I finally gave in to him coming over for some fun.  He was so persistent.  Something I almost like about men.  I kind of like having the decision making taken away from me.  And he did, because I know if I would have said no, which I actually did, he would have kept asking and telling me to let him come over. 

Yes, I do realized I could have just logged off to end the harassing.  But I wanted to be persuaded.  And well, I was sort of in a needy mood.    So he came over.  (After he got lost for a good 20 minutes.)

We had idle chitchat for about 10 minutes, then we moved it to my bedroom.  He stripped me down bare.  He kept his t-shirt on.  He kissed me.  He couldn’t kiss that well.  I should have known from there it wasn’t going to be all that good.  He proceeded to shove 2 fingers inside me and roughly jerk me off.   I repeatedly told him over and over, “Not so hard.”  I even grabbed his wrist to stop him from trying to touch my lungs w/ his fingers.   It was so rough, within 10 minutes I was swollen inside.  I was so uncomfortable.  But at the same time, I was kind of turned on.

Finally he stopped abusing my pussy, and stuck his dick inside me, which was nicely shaped and of a tad bit over average size.  The sex lasted all of 5 minutes.    So not only was I extremely sore, I didn’t get off.    Inconsiderate lover?  Definitely.  After we got dressed, he needed a cigarette.  So did I, just to get him out of my place.  We smoked.  He left.

The following days, he called me.  And called me.  And called me.  And called me.  Etc. Etc.  One day, in a span of 45 minutes he had called  me a total of 12 times.  And it was kind of embarrassing for me since I was at a drug store refilling a prescription.  And my phone kept ringing.   I know, I should have turned it off, but I wanted to see just how many times in a row he’d call me.  Just so I could get a sense of what exactly I was dealing w/.   Or yeah, I could have answered it.  But talking to him, or rather, him talking to me, just wasn’t all that interesting.

He tried and tried and tried to talk to me.  I finally gave in around January 5th because it was his birthday and he was spending it at home, w/ his dad.  I felt bad for him.  So, he turned 20 in my bed.  He wasn’t so rough, and the sex was a smidge better.  Still no orgasm f0r me.  And he talked.  Nonstop for about an hour.  I could not get a word in edgewise.  (This is why him talking to me just isn’t all that interesting.)   Then I kicked him out.  Oh, after he bummed a cig from me. 

Broke bastards who still live w/ their parents should not be smoking if they can’t afford it.  Supporting my habit is hard enough.   Ok, so ya paid attention there right……… lives w/ his parents.   This is going to come into play.  Soon.

I dodge him for awhile after the “birthday present.” I didn’t answer my phone when he called, and I think I even blocked him from messaging me.  And then I got careless and unblocked him and low and behold, he shows up.   He says he wants to see me again.  He says he wants me.  He says all that shit that men think women want to hear so they can get in their pants. . . . and then I told him, “NO!”   All of a sudden I’m fat.  And I should be ashamed of where I live.  And my place probably shakes when I walk in it.  Yadda Yadda Yadda, Blah Blah Blick!  

This is what I expected from a 20 year old.  This is why I never, ever, ever stooped so low as to “date” a youngbuck.  They’re just not agreeable w/ me.   So, after that, that was that.   I pretty much wrote him off.  I thought,  “Good, this kid is going to go smoke up in his car listening to Lynryd Skynyrd, and work at the construction retail rodeo.  I can breathe easy now.”    Um.   No.

Couple months later, “Can I see you again?  I miss you.  You’re so beautiful.”   Last time I checked I was fat.  As in he said it like it was a bad thing.   Anyways, I pointed this out to him.  And I told him, of course, “I forgive you for what you said, but it is NOT forgotten.   You fucked up, you pay for your fuck up.   Sorry, I’m not going to lower myself to your level, because, truthfully, I can do better than a pot smoking just out of diapers wannabe hippy.”  Oh, and I didn’t even mention that he lives w/ his parents whereas I am, of course, Independent!  (This is where he lives w/ his parents comes into play. {Yes, I have issues w/ people who are of age who live w/ their parents and … don’t have a full time job, or have afull time job but would still rather mooch, it is, in a word, pathetically-sad.})

That wasn’t the only time I’ve heard from him.  And I’m quite sure I will hear from him again.  He just has that personality: WEAK!

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 . . .

Not Doing Anything Will Get You Nothing

My fucktoy, the occassional one, he seems to think if he comes over to my place and proceeds to make sexual comments here and there that I’ll want to rip off his clothes and get busy w/ him.

“Don’t worry, I’ve seen you naked.” “You flashed me that time I was here when I had a girlfriend.”  “I like what we did.”   “You seem to like when we had sex all the other times.”  “You liked having your tongue in my ass.” 

This is all being said while I’m seated on the couch by him flipping thru songs on my CD player out of sheer boredom from listening to him trying to get laid.  He said he came over w/ no naughty intentions, yet every other word out of his mouth is sex related.   I sat there laughing inside.  I knew what he was trying to do.  And yet, him taking off his shirt and showing me his hairy chest, it did nothing for me.  

If he was smart he would have thought back to some of our conversations.  He would have realized I like a man in charge.  He would have known that if he were tearing off my clothes instead of his own, he could have fucked me.  I wasn’t going to remind him, tho. 

It was kinda funny to watch him leave at 10pm when my show, Shark, came on.  I pretty much made him leave.  He thought it was because my show came on.  Once again, if he wanted laid, he should have done something about it, but he didn’t.   I would have given him the chance.

Since that night I haven’t had one phone call from him on a Saturday.  It’s been quite quiet.  Gee, I wonder exactly why it is I haven’t received a call?   Could it be because he didn’t get what he thought he’d get w/ his oh so obviousness?  He didn’t get laid!  Awwww.  

Now that I think about it, I should have put on my black satin robe and greeted him like that, then just see what he would have done.  

Annoyance Keep Coming Back

I’ve had numerous men in my life that seem to come and go.   And come and go.  And they all want one thing.   To start off where they left me.  More than anything I hate that, w/ the exception of one.   *ONE*   All the others, they can go to hell.  This includes and is not limited to: the X, the fuck buddy, Eagles, and Doug.

If any of these guys had the balls I thought they had, they would never have bothered to start talking to me in the first place.   But they had some balls.  And now they think they’ve grown bigger balls.

My X called me tonight, after I foolishly gave him my phone number.  And I knew what it would lead to.  I even said no, a few times, until I gave in.  And he said he couldn’t promise to behave, which I totally believe him, because every time he couldn’t control himself around me.  Sick and tired of being someone’s fucktoy when I don’t admire, trust, or respect them.

The fuck buddy is still going strong on the phone calls.   Every Saturday night around 9pm.  Yep, I know it’s coming. And yep, I ignore him. 

Eagles is a whole other matter. And manner.  He’s one I’ve never even came in physical contact w/ because he was too busy spouting off senseless shit and toying w/ me. Plus, he said he has manned up since then.  So I guess that makes him manless when we talked earlier?  Back when I first started talking to him, I liked him well enough.  Well enough to send him some videos (not necessarily of me being bad, but of me saying bad things,) and well enough to make a promise to him.  As far as I’m concerned, that promise became null and void when he became a total pussy.    And I told him about it.  And he said he changed.  He started dating someone else. And that someone else he met, just like he met me.  He gave her a chance…..What the hell was so different about me?  I’m not the one harrassing him now that he’s broken it off w/ me.  I’m not the one trying to make his life a hell.   Hmmmm, maybe he should have thought things thru a little more thoroughly?  Either way, I’ve told him it can’t be the way it was, not after he lied so blatantly.  (This was the first time he came back into my life.)  Now, I’ve got him blocked because the 2nd time he came back, he now thinks that since I’ve seen a picture of him, that I’ll desire him more.  Not so.  He may like my body type, but I don’t like his face.  And if I don’t like a persons face, you can pretty much forget it.  He’s not my type.   Plus, he thinks that since I’ve seen his face that he’ll be getting more pictures from me, more videos.  With him only giving pics in return.   I don’t see how this is fair.  I believe in fairness.   It is NOT fair.

Now Doug.  I’ve met him, he’s lied to me also.  And now he wants to come over and show me his tattoo.  One I’ve already seen.  One that hasn’t changed since I’ve seen him.  And it’s been 2 years.  Not much to seduce me into giving him another BJ for his short fucking dick!   Maybe if he had one of size, I’d have considered checking out his tattoo again, but I don’t think so.   And then he disappeared after I said no.  Imagine that.

Out of these 4 guys, 3 of them have lied to me.  Yet that doesn’t deterred them from trying to start something I will no way in hell let them finish.  But it gives me joy in toying w/ them.   It gives me great joy to see how far I can make them go to get what they want, so I can tell them, to their face, “You’re not man enough for me!”

When Taking Charge Sucks

My past and recent fuck buddy is lame.  That’s putting it politely, and I hate to be polite about things like that.  He’s so … boring. So dull.  So every word in the thesaurus for yawn.   He’s a flash in the pan.  He’s a minute man.  A 3 pump chump.  If I’m that lucky.  And he tries to give me such flattery: “Your pussy just feels so good.”  Um, more like he just can’t control himself.  

I’ve learned the only way he can even last 5 minutes is if I take charge.   I hate taking charge.  Sometimes.  Ok, most times.  I like being able to be passive-aggressive *and* in charge w/ one person.  I like having the best of both worlds.  But I never get best of both worlds.   Not recently.   It’s been so humdrum for me, I’ve given up sex. 

Altho, it hasn’t stopped me from wishing for it.   I definitely can’t count on the 3 pump chump.  Even tho I’ve had a talk w/ him.  I told him I can’t stand that I have to wear only a black satin robe, undress him as soon as he walks in the door, and pretty much direct him from there.   And what sucks is, he’s almost strictly a missionary guy.  Even tho I’ve told him about that, too. 

Even tho he’s a minute man, I still wouldn’t have minded sex w/ him as long as it was frequent.  But we’d be sporatic, once every few months.   And it depended on him, because he’d be either too busy w/ his stupid friends or have a week/month long girlfriend.   And it was never during the week because he was too busy being a workaholic.   Honestly, how can a person have good sex if it’s not often? If it’s not longer than a minute?   I don’t know!

Now, during the past month, every Saturday night between 9:30 & 11:00pm, he’s called me.  I haven’t bothered to answer my phone.  I don’t know why he’s calling so much.  This isn’t like him; totally out of character.   Kinda makes me feel like he wants me … for something. 

He’s actually got me trained like Pavlov’s dog.  Every time he calls, I know it’s for sex.  It’s never for just regular friendly chit-chat, the way it use to be when we first started talking.   And I told him about that too.  And he says he’s trying to be gentlemanly and not be sexual.  But in the next breath, “Are you feeling naughty?”    Argh!!! 

Maybe I’d actually think about picking up the phone if he was adventurous.