The Only Lips I’ll Kiss

So I wonderingly wondered if women could kiss better than men.  Simply for that fact that I had had it up to here w/ the men in my life or the lackof men in my life.  But I’ve come to the conclusion that I really don’t want to know since my friendships w/ women aren’t all they’re cracked up to be.

Back in the day in my early 20′s my best friend and I had a kiss or two.  Just a meeting of the lips. No tongues involved.  No heavy petting. Nothing quite sexual about it at all.  However I still remember to this day that she had the softest lips mine have ever touched.  I wouldn’t have minded exploring the kissed a little more in depth. 

But that’s neither here nor there.  The lesbian friend I mentioned that  I wouldn’t have minded hooking up w/ would she have been single at that moment has completely turned me off from finding out if I could possibly end up in a relationship w/ a woman.  I may not have had the experience I wanted to, but being her friend was enough for me to go running for the hills.  It was probably that we had just become great friends in a short span of time and I was crushing on her something hardcore for at least a year or two or three before we started conversating that made me think just possibly I could do it.  I could get out of my comfort zone and actually take the next step and actually see a woman as relationship material.   I don’t see it happening anymore.  However I’m not giving up on actually having a lesbian experience. I still have my whole life ahead of me and well …. never say never.  

So I guess until I get up the guts and go for the glory, I’ll remain a great fan of men.  They are something that I could never give up, even if I should stumble upon a woman who doesn’t have the hang-ups women tend to have … being dramatics and all.  I’m just a simple girl wanting a simple guy and possibly a taste of what a woman is.

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.

He’ll Always Be There

OM. The light switch. No sex clause. My toy.  Never again.

All of this is true.  All of this is false.  No matter how much I want that damn light switch to say the hell off it doesn’t want to stay off. It doesn’t like being in that position.  I hate this feeling of not wanting but wanting.

I got my toy from OM this past Tuesday.  (a  Doc Johnson, White Nights, 7″ Vibe, Waterproof, Velvet Touch, Muti-Speed for $12.67) He whipped it out, battery’d it up and turned it on.  I have to admit the actual sound of it is kind of embarassing.  It’s like you know that sound, you know what it means.  Something other than a human is taking care of my needs.  But in the few days I’ve had it, I’ve played w/ it every night to my heart’s content. 

I rather enjoyed holding it on my clit, moving it up and down my pussy lips as OM watched.  As he placed 1 sometimes 2 dildos in my cunt.  Or a few fingers.  I really loved when he placed his tongue right next to the vibrator on  my clit.  A man who’s not afraid to get his face close to a phallic toy is arousing. 

He said it’s not everyday you get to see a beautiful woman masterbate and I couldn’t help but think of his wife.  His wife should be doing this for him.  I know if he was my husband or even just a significant other there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for him sexually.  But I’m like that w/ anyone I want to fuck, I like being open minded and rather enjoy the hell out of it.   And I was about to say he could see it everyday if he’d like.  He knows he has an open invitation to come see me.  Even tho that light switch is off, it’s still on when it comes to sexual things.   And him.

And it’s funny, I thought I wouldn’t be able to handle him coming over and just going  down on me, playing w/ my toys in me. I thought it’d frustrate me to no end like it did last time.  But I was okay w/ it all.  I’m amazed.  I thought for sure I’d be wanting to beg him to slide his cock inside me.  But I didn’t.  I even let him stay dressed. I even let him walk out my door while I held the vibrator on my clit for the other elusive orgasm I was straining for.  He understood.  He told me not to get up.  He left me w/ 2 kisses on my forehead.  (And you know how I am about him kissing me!)

And he told me not to forget about him.  How could I?  He’s the one I’ve been lusting after for the past 2 years.  I guess things like this don’t go away easily.  They put up a fight.  Fists up. Shoulders squared. Legs spread. Ready to do battle.  I think this, me being in lust, is gonna be around for quite some time.  Until he tells me no more.  Or until I want him so much I’ll go crazy w/ not having him.  But don’t worry, my middle name ain’t Stalker.

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.

Dear Lord in Heaven, I’m Going to Hell

I asked a random question of the One I Crave because I knew he’d give me the answer I wanted, and also because he’s not the jealous sort.  Is it wrong to want to fuck a married man, who is a co-worker and old enough to be my dad?   His answer: If it feels good, do it!  Amen! (<—that’s mine!)

So for the past weekend and a half, the Older Man (OM) and I have been emailing each other at our home addresses.  Sometimes we’re spot on and can get a few emails to each other in an hour.  Other times, we miss each other and it’s here and there, kinda frustrating.  I usually want a response back quickly to what I have to say.  I want immediate gratification.  But I’m willing to wait, because sometimes it’s nice to have a smile on my face at random hours of the day because of him. 

It’s strange to be emailing him at his home.  Especially since he has to share the computer w/ his wife and daughter.   I kinda wish he’d get a messenger service, it would be so much easier to talk to him then.  But do I really want it to be that easy?  I keep thinking bad things would happen then.  His wife would get that feeling and put a spy ware thingy on the computer. . . I just don’t need that.

But at the same time, I keep thinking that maybe that link I gave him to give to his wife is making her think.  Making her think of: polyamory.  Because well, they did go to Jamacia.  And she was doing some looking, that I hear.  And it was permissible.  Too bad he didn’t tell me if he actually let her participate, cuz that would make everything that’s been going on for the past week and a half so much easier on me.  Especially last night’s conversation. 

Two hours just to pretty much say in way too many words: I want to fuck you!  The only thing actually keeping me from taking him serious is the fact that fucking was never alluded to.  Fucking, the word, was never used. It was just plain tongue lashings, ass spanking, and some hair pulling.   And he managed to slip in there (no pun intended)  that he has (had) a hard dick.

Yes, I mentioned that touching a hard dick makes my pussy do the tingle.  Granted the one and only time that ever happened was w/ the One I Crave. But he didn’t need to know that.  But I did mention that kissing, having my fingers sucked on, and my neck being bitten has that same effect. . . Too bad he just latched onto the one that has only happened once.  But my god.  I see in pink neon flashing lights: “Wellll, I have a hard dick…:-)”  Blink Blink Blinkity Blink.   And I get a huge grin on my face.  How could I not?   

Today at work. . . The first time we talked in the morning, my face was burning. Bright red.  (Like he was telling me last night how my ass would be.)   My god, I was embarrassed.  Then as the day progressed, I got better.  I could look him in the eye and we could hold our usual conversations.  But we did mention some things spoken about last night.  And I put on my little smirk of, “If only.”

I feel guilty.  I feel like I should be going to hell.  But at the same time, I’m going to hell w/ a smile on my face.  Even if the fucking never happens, well, I’ll still be smiling cuz this is all great.  I just can’t believe he’s doing this.  His wife at home.  His daughter  sleeping.   (Oh and that random midafternoon email.)  And yet, I don’t feel guilty.  I’ve done it before.  I’ve fucked other married men.  No care or thought towards his  family.  My only concern was having a dick inside me.   And . . . . I’m not the one who’s cheating.  I guess that’s how I can rationalize this. 

So maybe, just maybe. . . .

I Want Him.

The man I mentioned in this post, the man I want to strap me into his homemade bondage contraption: red painted metal, leather restraints, & leopard print pads.    This man, I’m craving him a lot lately.  But I’ve done whatever it is I’ve done to keep him away from me.  After that post, we’ve talked.  As a matter of fact as I was writing that post, we were talking.  But since then, I’ve told him I hate him.  I’ve told him I wish he never would have said “hi” to me.  I’ve asked him to tell me why I like him.   We’ve only really had one discussion since those statements and question, then he vanished.  But since reading someone else’s blog, I’ve kind of got him in mind. 

And I’ve only got him in mind because of what he said the one and only night I spent in his presence.  “Next time, I’ll bring rope.”  

When I met him face to face it was awkward at first.  For me.   I was meeting a man I’ve been lusting after for quite a few years, years that I didn’t even talk to him.  I was scared to meet him.  I’m still scared of him now that I’ve met him.

[God, I hate that I can't put into words what I 'm thinking.  When I'm lying in bed at night trying to get to sleep, it's so easy for me to form words and put those words into sentences.  I think about getting up and writing them down.  But then that's less sleep that I'll be getting, so I just hope what I want to type will come out.  Without problems, w/out rambling, w/out stumbling.  But I do, I do all that and it bothers me.  I'm not a good writer when I sit down to do it.  I wish my brain would have a print button.  Print. print. print.   But it doesn't. . . And well, I get stuck.  Stuck like I am now.  Stuck like I can't get moving.  Stuck so much that I backspace and delete.  Until it all sounds right, but it doesn't sound right.  And I just hope what I'm typing comes across okay, not so scatterbrained.  But it's useless. I'm hopeless.]

And that’s how I feel when I’m around that  guy.  That’s how I feel when I talk to him.  I also feel like I can’t say enough, or I don’t say the right things.  I feel like all I’m trying to  do is live up to an image I want him to believe.  But he knows me.  He knows exactly how I am.  I sometimes hate that he can read me so well, but at the same time, I can take a breath and say, “He knows me. I’m okay. We’re okay.”

That night we met, I felt so awkward.  And scared.  He didn’t put me at ease at all in the beginning.  The only thing that did was him making the first move.  He reached across the space and slapped me across the face.  I was shocked.  I slapped him back.  That lightened the mood so much, so much more than him picking on me.  So much more than our ridiculous chatter about nothing.  

We continued w/ the slap fight.  I had to hold onto his hands to keep him from slapping me again.  But it didn’t stop. And I got in some good shots myself.  This went on for quite some time.  Time enough for us to move positions all over the place.  Time enough for him to wrap his legs around me and pull me close.  Time enough for him to sink his teeth into my exposed neck.  Time enough for me to fall almost in love w/ what he was doing to me. 

Being w/in his grasp was exciting.  Being semi-violent w/ him brought out … I don’t know what it brought out, but sometimes, sometimes I came so close to kissing him.  Our faces would be inches apart and I’d stare at his lips and just wish that he would close the gap and press his lips to mine.  The times he could have he just pushed away.  But he bit my neck.  My god did he bite my neck.  I loved it. I moaned it.  I wanted more.

The violence of slapping each other and liking it turned into foreplay.  And we continued the foreplay.  I don’t remember when, but he finally did it.  He finally kissed me.  And I liked it.  A tingle went down my stomach into my pussy.  I felt myself getting wetter.  That tingle didn’t happen often, but when it did, my god, I wanted it to happen again.  And it did.  It did when I placed my hand on his denim clad dick.  I felt it.  Felt the length. Felt the width. My pussy was lost in tingles. 

He took my wrists in his hands, jerked them behind my back, latched onto my neck.  He said in his silky voice he needed rope.  He wanted to tie me to a tree.  Have his way w/ me, even tho he could have easily that night, w/out the rope, w/out the physical bondage.  He could have told me to stay still.  For him, I would have.   However the rope was missing, so for him it was a no go, but he said.  Next time.  

The next time never happened.  In 3 months it’ll be a year since I’ve seen him.  And in part it is my fault.  My fault I like him so damn much, half in love w/ him, and I can’t handle it.   So I do everything in my power to tell him to fuck off, then I come running back to him.  Running straight into lust and love and wanting and craving and  . . . I’m almost head over heels for him.   I hate him.  I hate it. I hate myself.   I want him.

Single For A Day

I was suppose to go over the the Older Man’s house this weekend.  Not for any kind of hanky panky that I would enjoy but to look at a table he is offering to give me, if I want it.  He said his wife and daughter were going away for the day so that made him “Single for a Day.”  I enjoyed hearing that.  And he said it w/ a smile.

I told him to come over to my place to check out the paint job I did, since he didn’t get to see it last time he was here, which was over a month ago… Almost 2 months, I think.   And well, he said he’d come over after I came over to his place.  It didn’t happen, don’t know if the family didn’t go away for the day, he got to caught up in cleaning, or he just plain forgot?!  But no fantasies got to play thru my head while I was in his company, (cuz I wasn’t.)   

Anyways.  A few days ago, I ran my hand down his jacket sitting on the back of his chair at work and said that I like the feel of it.  And he remembered that I told him I’m a touchy feely kind of girl.  So he went and put his arm thru the coat, and ooooo, I almost went back and touched it, but instead I just said, “Tempting.”  Which it is, but calling him a tease would have been so much better.   He is a tease!

Ok, so lets tangent over here:

A couple years ago, he said he’d invite all of us over to his place to have a backyard BBQ when his wife was away for the week.  It never happened but it did start my fantasizing about him.  That started it all.  I fantasized about me staying after everyone left to help him clean up.  About me sitting on the counter while he put dishes away or whatever.  Him walking up to me, standing in between my legs.  Him kissing me.  (For some ungodly known reason, I really really want to kiss that man.  I don’t care if we ever have sex, but damnit, I really want to kiss him! Maybe it’s because all the dreams I have involving him, he’s always kissing me? And they’re always such great kisses!)   Then we move to the living room.  He sits in a plush arm chair, and instead of me sitting on the couch, I sit on his lap.  And we talk, we kiss, and eventually I end up straddling him,  his hand is beneath my skirt moving my underwear to the side, fingering me.  My hands are working the button and zipper of his pants.   He takes off my shirt, he sucks on my nipples… Gently bites them.  And I grab his cock out of his pants and position it so I can slowly slide down his length.  After that, I wake up, cuz you know – - – - It’s only a fucking dream!  Arrgggggghhh!!!

So maybe it’s a good thing I didn’t get to be near him while he was “Single for a Day.”  Maybe it’s a good thing I didn’t go over to his place, I might have been tempted to sit on his counter-top and wish him standing between my legs, his face coming closer and closer to mine.   Maybe it’s a good thing?

No Sex for Me

I’ll get back to personality after this:

I moved this past weekend, with the help of a male friend from work, who I’ll call A,  my dad, mom, & brother.   (I thought my brother would be working, come to find out he quit or got fired – which is why I asked A.)  Anyways, the moving day did not start off well.  First, I had to go to work.  Second, on the way home to move A decided he wasn’t actually going to pay full attention to how he was driving, and plowed into my back-end.  The sound it made was horrendous.  But little damage was done, just some chipped paint.  Either way, I was okay w/ my baby being hit, and I made A aware of this.  Told him not to dwell on it.  Well, he did, and probably still is 5 days later.

Anyways, A decided to start tearing down my water-bed frame while we waited on my dad to get ready.  In the process of doing this, I told him that the headboard needed to come down first since it is heavy.  He didn’t listen.  Instead, he took off the one side, took off the bottom, and took off the other side.  The headboard comes crashing down.  Well, ok, I caught one side of it, but still, the other side *crashed* down!   That actually pissed me off.  And so I started moving things and got away from him. 

See, A has issues.  He’s taking medication for them.  But I found out he took himself off of his medication for the past week.  Which is not good.  He’s a little anxious.  He dwells, etc.   So, he’s constantly go, go, go.  This part of his personality bothers me.  I can’t handle it.  It’s annoying and just overall frustrating.  Ok, more annoying than anything.

Anyways, my point in this is somewhere.  Somewhere being, I could never, in a million years be in a relationship w/ a man like this.  If I say something, I want to be heard.  I don’t want to have to worry about his mental welfare. I don’t want to have to worry about my physical possessions.   Listen to me!!!

Another point.  All my friends seem to think A and I would be perfect together.  Since, mostly, we already have that  Been-Married-For-50-Years friendship.  We fight, we laugh, we talk, we don’t.  Like we’ve been married for 50 years.   But there’s a reason, maybe two, why we haven’t given an actual boyfriend/girlfriend relationship a chance.  His: because he doesn’t want to ruin another friendship. Mine: he doesn’t have sex.

Yes, he doesn’t have sex.  He is a born again christian, which goes against everything I believe in.  I believe I should be able to try the milk before I buy the cow.  I believe if the sex isn’t good, the relationship won’t last.  I believe if my needs can’t be met experimentally, at least, there’s no chance.  

I know this guy, I feel it deep down in my bones, he would never go for what I have in mind.  He would never tie me up. He would never spank me like he means it.  He would never wrap his hand around my throat.  He would never bite me.  He would never pull my hair.  He would never paddle me.  He would just never take charge.  I can only see him doing it missionary.  Possibly even doggy style.  And of course, every mans’ dream: girl on top.  But not how I want it.  Not what will turn me and turn me loose. 

Nobody . . . .well, nobody that actually knows me, thinks he’ll just turn his nose up at my suggestions.  They all think that given half the chance, I could probably get him to have sex before getting married. That I could get him to do kinky, freaky things w/ me.   But I know A, I know him so well, it’s not going to happen. 

This is why I can not be w/ him.  It’s actually first and foremost.  Way beyong his mental instability. Way beyond his need to do everything for everybody.  (He’s not needy tho, do not confuse or blur that line.)   But at the same time, I don’t want to have to deal w/ the way he is on a daily basis.  During work is enough for me.

But yet, nobody seems to understand.

I Don’t Ask for Much

So O called me the other day from a phone number I wasn’t aware of.  I answered and I get,  “Hello, how are you? What are you doing?”  I, of course, answer skeptically, because I had no frikkin clue who the hell it was.  He told me to take a guess.  I said, “Why don’t you just tell me.”  He said it was ‘your favorite boy from Kansas.’  After that, it was hit or miss on what I heard of the actual conversation.  I know he was on his way to his friends house.  Just from him telling me, plus the road noise, since he was using his bluetooth.  (Those fuckers pick up everything!!)  I know he said he’s been meaning to call me.  And I think he might have been hinting at something.  Although, I’m not quite sure.

 I told him I was moving next weekend.  Because he asked what I was doing that night, and I said packing.  So I told him where I was moving to, and then I proceeded to say that I was never ever going to move out of that place.  I was going to live there forever.  (Which is my plan!)  He said not even if some guy came over w/ a buff ass body cuz he worked out for 2-3 hours a day wearing nothing but black Calvin Klein boxer briefs and asked me to move somewhere w/ him?  I had to pause. 

In my other post about O, I mentioned loving black boxer briefs.  And well, back in the day I actually bought O 2 pairs of Calvin Klein boxer briefs.   And well, he wasn’t buff or nothing, but maybe he was hinting at what he looks like now? It has been around 7 years since I’ve actually seen him. He could have changed.   Or maybe he now thinks that I like men who are muscle bound and aren’t flexible?  That doesn’t truely appeal to me.

What appeals to me physically in a man is this: his eyes, his lips, his neck, and his fingers.  And in that order, because I usually check out a man starting at the top.  In which case,  I kind of hope I have to look way up to start there.  Ok, so nothing over 6’4” because then sex is just awkward.  And unkind.   Around 6-ish’  is good for me. 

His eyes either have to be blue (any shade, sometimes) or some really, really funky shade, like amber or grey.  Maybe glow in the dark kind.   I can’t stand green eyes or shit brown eyes.  And to me, any shade of brown is shit brown.  I have an almost fetish when it comes to eyes.

His lips have to be full.  None of that thin lipped crap.  I like to be able to feel what I’m kissing.  I like to nibble on bottom lips also, so it helps to have something there.  I don’t necessarily want to hurt him and it’d be nice to have some padding.   Top and bottom lips should be of equal thickness, but I’ll budge on the top lip.

His neck has to be muscular.  It has to look good w/ a chain around it.  Or a button down shirt.  I like em thick.  I like em semi long.  I like to be able to look at it and go, “Oh yeah, that would look great w/ my bite mark on it!”   I want to be able to put my hands around it not have them touch.  A not so noticeable Adam’s apple would be great, too.

His fingers.  The longer the better.  The thicker the better.  Do not confuse thick w/ chubby.  I like to see fingers and know that’s exactly what they are.  I like them to be rough,  callused. I like a man who works w/ his hands.  Knows his way around cars.  Can tinker w/ things to fix them.  A regular MacGyver.   I like dirty hands.  But at the same time, I like those dirty hands to look clean when they’re suppose to, not terminally dirty.

His body has never been a top priority in my adventures of finding a perfect man.  I’ve always been into men who are slightly overweight.  Or as I put it: A man w/ meat on his bones.    I can’t stand a man who is their ideal BMI, to me they look they need fed.  I like that healthy look. 

So muscle bound men can just keep moving along.  And men w/ a little pudge, please park your butt on my couch.  Well, as long as you have blue eyes, full lips, a thick neck,  and long, strong fingers.  (And medium to dark brown hair.)  Ok, and numerous tattoos helps, too!

Next: Personality