On The Road Again

I’m dating.   I don’t know why.  Sometimes it just feels so futile.  But I guess I’m finding something worth all the hassle.

I signed up on a free dating site.  And I’ve come across quite a few guys I’d love to try and find that right chemistry w/.  Someone I’d be able to look at every waking day.  Someone I’d love to meet at the door wearing nothing but a red ribbon and some high heels.  But, alas, they’re not interested in me. 

This website shows you who has looked at you and I’ve gotten quite a few peeks, however, I must not be their type physically …. Because it sure as hell couldn’t be what I had to say.  Come on  — what man is afraid of being loyal.  Of having a job and a car.  Of knowing how to pickup a phone and talk on it.  Of not having to be constantly complimented to stroke their already gigantic ego.  And who promises above all not to lie to me. 

Really …  I don’t ask for much.  And actually, I’m not getting much in return.  In the month I’ve been on the dating site, I’ve gone out on 4 dates, w/ 4 different guys.  None so far have been worthy of repeat offending.  Altho, the one I had just recently, possibly may.  Who knows what’s the my cards.

For someone who loves sex as much as I do, I’m sure not jumping on the guys who want to jump on me.  Maybe in my old age, I’ve gotten a lot more picky, a lot more selective.  Maybe I’m finally getting into that “settling down” stage.   I think that’s what it is.  And I think for once, I’d actually like to write about my sex life w/ one guy …. not many.  

But for now, until I find that knight in shining armor, who has a few tattoos and can be comfy in dickies,  I’ll just be the little hum drum engine that couldn’t.

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!

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?

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.