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.

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!

Scarves, Ties, & Leather Restraints

I don’t know what it is, but I want to be tied up. I want to be blindfolded. I want to be spreadeagle on a bondage contraption my friend built.  Leopard print, red paint, and leather buckle restraints.  All bolted down to the floor, and the ceiling.  But it’s not going to happen … at least any time soon.  Well, probably never w/ my luck.

I started talking to a guy a few years ago.  Then he disappeared, only to reappear last year sometime.  This time when we started talking I learned more about him.  Or I re-learned about him what I had forgotten.   He has a dominant streak. He’s into bondage. He is the fucker, not the fuckee.  And my god, how I adore that!   He said he’s not really into control.  But I think that anyone who is dominant and into bondage has some kind of control issues.  Well, not necessarily issues, but wants/needs.  I seriously have no issue w/ a guy who has control wants/needs.  I actually appreciate it.  Very much.  

I’d like to show my appreciation.  I’d like to show it very much.  But I can’t.  Not because I don’t talk to him anymore, but because I’m afraid.  It’s strange how I can adore a man who is willing to take charge.  And by taking charge, I mean it literally, not someone who is *pretending* to be the forceful, dominant one.  I love that he needs to be the fucker.  I want him to be the fucker.  And I’m afraid of letting go.  I’m afraid to be submissive to someone.  Probably because I have a dominant streak in me.   (Or maybe it’s just a mean streak?  Hahaha!)

Maybe my definitions of D/s isn’t exactly the Merriam-Webster version, but it works for me.   Maybe I’d like to be a switch, but I know w/ this guy, it’s not a possibility.   Maybe that’s what scares me….. And that’s probably why I stopped talking to him this time, not him not talking to me.  Actually I know why I quit talking to him.

I didn’t want to get attached.  Cuz then I’d definitely feel put upon to act the way he wants me to.  And I’d like it.  I’d like it too much.   And then things would go bad and I’d find myself  posted on the internet.  (Ok, that’s just my worst nightmare talking.)   I could love this guy.  Yet, he just doesn’t seem like that kind of “lovable” guy type tho, he seems singular.  Nomadic in his relationships.  However, he’s had long term relationships.   That, I guess, gives me hope, but not much. 

In the end, it just comes to this: he’s the kind of guy I crave. 

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!”