So I met up with Y on Thursday night. Instead of her coming over East or meeting in the middle, I offered for us to meet local to her. She chose a pub which as it turned out was in the same area as K's family home. Walking the streets from tube to pub, I couldn't help but be affected by the familiar surroundings and subsequent associations that they had.
My earphones are pretty much an omnipresent augmentation to my body whenever I walk or take a journey, my world turned purely visual, a custom soundtrack blocks out all ambient noise and conversation. So I switch tunes to something more upbeat and let myself get taken away by the music. Now swaggering down the street to the pub my pace quickens, weaving through crowded pavements, head bobbing, the faceless commuters and my negative thoughts are left behind.
I push through heavy double doors, shiny with varnish and brass fittings walking into a gastropub. It's well furnished and characterful. In the centre is a large circular old wooden bar. I find a break in the groups and couples sitting and leaning round the bar, next to a pretty girl by herself. I wonder if maybe she's here to meet a date too. I order a Guinness for me and a Shiraz for Y. The girl behind the bar comments on the magazine I have with me, about how her brother was in one of the regular sections. We talk as she sorts out the drinks, I make some sort of wisecrack and we both laugh. It's at this point that Y walks up, smiling and apologising it's so much further form the tube than she thought. We kiss on the cheek and exchange pleasantries. Collecting my change we go find a seat.
Y takes her jacket off to reveal she's wearing tights with soft brown leather knee high boots and a tight leopard print dress. I'll be honest, the dress wasn't the best of looks, but the way she was poured into it took away any sartorial criticism I may have had. I wasn't sure what was going to happen tonight, she's not been easy to read, but the dress went some way towards answering these questions - she had not dressed down. We caught up and everything was pleasant. We were only meeting here for a drink, Y had a wine and cheese tasting voucher she bought off of Groupon which was at a place around the corner. Wine and cheese: two of my favourite things, so I was totally up for this.
We got to the place, and sat ourselves down on a sofa at the back. We were looked after by one of the sommeliers, a scandinavian looking girl who told us we were to choose 12 wines from a list of about 30. I'd done this once before so I took the lead, picking out a couple of sparklings to start with then a 40/60% split between white and reds.
Drinking games exist to give a reason for you all to drink quickly and consistently for a period of time. Wine tasting is basically a cultured way to achieve the same end. We had some pretty good wines, and the glasses were a lot fuller than I'd normally expect - with four wines still to come we both felt pretty well on the way. I remember us laughing more this time, the wine no doubt helping this along. Soon we were kissing on the sofa, this time with tongues and more sensuality. The place was emptying out so we left, tipping the sommelier and thanking them all.
As we walked away arm in arm I still wasn't sure where the night was headed. We walked talking about another drink or maybe it was getting too late with places closing. Coming to a junction it was a right to the tube station or left to hers. I made some comment about how I'd better get a move on to get home,
"You're kidding??"
"Of course I am! Come on let's go"
She'd brought up the fact that the tube was to the right so I took that as a hint that our night was soon to come to an end. I wasn't joking at all...
We got back to her place, cracked open another bottle of red and she put on Friday Night Dinner which we'd mentioned earlier in the night. Pulling out the sofa bed we cuddled up, drinking, laughing and soon we were kissing too. Turns out Y was a big fan of leopard print: because yep, she had on matching bra and panties too - this did not go unremarked by myself. Naked, all of the running and gym talk by Y made sense. Her body was taut, her breasts a C cup and she had some of the best legs I've had the pleasure to have been between recently. Yay for exercising.
Prior to this, I did have concerns that Y could turn out to be another P in the making and so far nothing other than a few comments in texts led me to believe otherwise. But I needn't have worried.
Because Y fucking loved it.
She embraced foreplay with a real hunger and no small amount of skill. Even though we were both by now really very drunk (and with no bumps to sharpen the mind), we both gave a pretty good account of ourselves. Y liked to rake her hands and nails over my torso and thighs, I'm quite muscular and she'd said that she really gets turned on by this - she'd be kneeling on the floor between my legs as I was laid back. Her hands would be running up and down my arms, across my chest, lingering on my stomach before raking her nails over my thighs making me tense up. All the while she'd be flicking her tongue over my cock. She knew what she was doing.
I'd like to fuck Y when we're both a little more sober, drunken sex always ends up dirtier, but ironically less memorable too due to the booze. Things which stick for no particular reason are:
- She liked me to sit up when she sat on my cock. I had this with a girl I was seeing for a few months too. I'm not sure whether this is purely a clitoral stimulation thing (probably not otherwise surely more girls would ask me this too - maybe a female reader could offer their opinion?) or whether it's a visual thing.
- At one point I had her bent over in front of me on her knees, spreading her cheeks as I spat cold water over her ass and pussy before spanking her and unceremoniously returning my cock to it's willing place as my thumb sunk into her ass.
- She was very vocal about enjoying herself. Her neighbour actually rang the doorbell to ask us to keep the noise down.
- We woke up to banging headaches and dry mouths for both of us, and my morning glory sticking into her ass for her. As we spooned I started to slowly move my dick back and forth over her pussy lips, probably grazing her clit too. Either way it had her rummaging for the condoms in her drawer again and we got into some very athletic positions with her on top, me lifting and twisting her about with Y flexibly obliging. As she came that morning, she was not quiet. Aside from enjoying the feeling of her vaginal walls spasming around me, it amused me that I was so British that in the back of my mind I couldn't help but feel awkward that we'd be annoying her neighbours again. Not enough to not milk out as much noise as I could, but still.
I know I'm not being very visual or overly descriptive about this all, it's partially due to a drunken hazy memory - I don't wish to fill in the gaps with fantasy - but also a little down to the fact though it was good, for some reason it didn't blow my mind. I'm at a loss to reason with myself why, but it is what it is. I've not replayed this in my head when wanking since. Well, not yet anyway.
I have no dates lined up this week, and I'm not convinced my vague plans to meet up with Tassles this weekend will come to fruition. So I think I'm going to revisit an earlier encounter at some point.
Enjoy the sunshine x
Showing posts with label online dating. Show all posts
Showing posts with label online dating. Show all posts
Monday, 21 March 2011
Friday, 11 March 2011
Profiles and a date
Online dating profiles. My own take on them is this:
Please don't go into detail about how, you know...you're a person and everything. **News flash** We ALL like to go out and get drunk, as well as staying in to watch a DVD with someone else, to travel the world and experience new cultures, to sit in a pub on a Sunday and whatever other golden insights you're offering me here. This does not positively differentiate you, in fact it probably just makes me think you're uninventive.
Generally I find people who put too much effort into a description of themselves instantly less attractive. Effort and trying hard aren't attractive traits. I appreciate you may want to distill your entire personality, dreams, ambitions and desires into one small descriptive box so as to better your chances of meeting your soul mate. But you're not going to be able to. Hopefully you're a lot more complex than that.
Do be funny or catch me off guard with what you say.
But don't go too far and be a dick.
Do be specific if you feel passionately about something. A musical scene, an author, a director, or some other cultural hook it may turn out we both hang our hats on. It gives us an actual insight into what makes you tick, grounds for believing there's more going on to my interest here than just the fact that I want to see what your face looks like when it's flushed and as though you're about to sneeze.
Because fundamentally all of these words are like the paraphernalia to a meal. Pictures are of course everything. Ultimately if I'm dealing with what looks as appealing as a microwave meal, no amount of egyptian cotton napkins, heavy silver cutlery or pea shoots scattered around the main course (Fans of Masterchef will know what I'm on about here) are going to make me want to sit down and eat.
If your pictures make me want to fuck you, then you can write exactly the opposite profile of what I've advised above and I'll probably still send a message saying hi. If you're hot and you go with the advice above, I'll actually start falling for you in a small way right from the start.
Which brings me on to Posy who I met up with last night.
Posy was really pretty in her pictures. However, a couple of them made me think that she could actually be really quite rotund. Now, I have to say again at this point that whilst I'm no Patrick Bateman with an intolerance for imperfection (I am neither rich nor good looking enough to develop this trait), and some of the best sex has been with girls who are not the prettiest, or most trim - but given the choice, I'd rather meet up with a girl who is as sexually attractive to me as possible.
For this you can call me shallow. You can call me an asshole; in general I think I'd agree with you, but this is what online dating is. It's not the real world. It's not subject to the same social mores and white lies that go into reinforcing our general social bonds. My first aim in this is not to find new friends. My main aim is to find the most beautiful, intelligent girl in the world who thinks like me, drinks like me, fucks like me, and who'll turn out to actually like me. And I intend to have fun along the way meeting new people who are attractive to me either because of an initial picture or a conversation that develops.
For this you can call me shallow. You can call me an asshole; in general I think I'd agree with you, but this is what online dating is. It's not the real world. It's not subject to the same social mores and white lies that go into reinforcing our general social bonds. My first aim in this is not to find new friends. My main aim is to find the most beautiful, intelligent girl in the world who thinks like me, drinks like me, fucks like me, and who'll turn out to actually like me. And I intend to have fun along the way meeting new people who are attractive to me either because of an initial picture or a conversation that develops.
I've had it before where I met up with a girl and she looked nothing like her pictures (I felt desperately short changed), but generally, most people don't make the mistake to put up an unrealistically attractive picture of themselves. But with Posy I just couldn't be sure. We're friends on facebook so I sent pictures to some of my girlfriends and they were as stumped as me. It could go either way.
I met Posy in a pub in London Fields during London Fashion Week. She walked in dressed in silky leggings, a camel coloured loose knit wollen dress and long brown hair tousled by the cold wind that was blowing outside. It turns out that actually she's just one of these people who can carry a little weight in their face. She fills her leggings well and is effortlessly pretty, she is not caked in makeup with mathematically straightened hair.
Round 1: Posy.
She had some absolutely amazing bad date stories which I won't detail - I want everyone to remain anonymous in this blog - we got past small talk pretty quickly and were relaxed in each others company. Three or four rounds in we decide to chip off to a LFW party that was going off in a warehouse within walking distance because it was going to be free booze. The crowd there was typically fashion, everyone dressed ridiculously, and the men wearing a great deal more make up than Posy.
On this point, I went to a screening of Rankins new short video the other day, and beyond the music, editing and tech, finding the models attractive and some of the framing interesting, I just didn't get it. I couldn't see the actual point of making this video at all, couldn't see how it was genuinely adding anything of value other than gimmick that a photo couldn't. But then as with this crowd at the party, people like me aren't meant to get pure fashion. It's meant to be ridiculous and nonsensical to the masses, it's meant to push things forward; mediocrity is it's foil. But regardless, if you're a dude dressed in Luftwaffe bondage trousers and blue eyeshadow, I'm going to struggle to take you seriously.
The drinks aren't free and the vibe is pretentious so we finish our drinks and go to an old mans pub nearby. A few more drinks in and we're both pretty drunk. The place empties and then it's just the two of us left playing pool. I'm sat next to her and we're talking shit, laughing, and she moves in and kisses me. It makes me realise that I can't remember the last time a girl instigated a kiss, I guess that says more for how forward I am than anything else though. We spend the next 5 minutes kissing like drunks, not a care for our surroundings, mouths locked and hands exploring. The landlady loudly clears her throat, we both look up and she has her head tilted forward and to one side with a look on her face that says 'Have you not got somewhere better to be than this corner of my pub?'
We giggle, grab our stuff and make our way to the door. It's late, sure there are places we can go to drink more but there's only one thing on our minds now.
"Shall we go back to mine?"
No matter what the situation, no matter how confident you feel, the first time you ask this question is always a mini heart in mouth moment, not something that just blurts out. Not for me anyway.
"Yes"
"Yes"
Round 2: Unremarkable Man.
We're kissing as my keys turn in the lock. On the second flights of stairs I have her pinned against the wall, my hand in her knee-pit (why is this part of the body not named more often?) lifting her leg up. She's kissing me frantically as I grind my erection up against her. We make it to my front door and as I fumble with my keys again she has her hand resting on the bulge in my jeans, stroking me whilst she licks my ear. It sends shivers down my spine every time when a girl breathes, licks, or talks breathily into my ear. It's hot.
In my room I take my t-shirt off, then kissing her I push her back onto my bed and tell her I'm going to put some music on. I put on Beach House I think and as I'm scrolling through my itunes, Posy is up behind me, kissing my back, reaching round and undoing my jeans. Her hand slips in outside my tight boxers and around my dick. I carry on playing with my mac as her hand now slips inside my underwear, her hand cold against my throbbing hot cock. I turn around and she's taken her dress and leggings off, I kiss her slowly but intensely. My cock is poking up trapped under the elastic, she licks her fingers and staring deep into my eyes rubs her wet fingers around the head of me. Really. Really. Slowly. And it is fucking amazing making my cock almost painfully hard. Dropping down to her knees she replaces her fingers with the soft ministrations of her mouth, planting wet kisses on me.
We fuck and it's pretty good. Not out of this world, so to stop this blog becoming too repetitive I shan't go into details.
As I say, Burlesque cancelled on me on Wednesday so a quick text and me and Posy were back in bed fucking again. She's pretty cool, but I don't feel a great connection with her. I think maybe a year or so ago I'd have been more than happy to have Posy as a fuck buddy, but I think I yearn for more now. This generally happens every time I go online dating, I start off by going on lots of dates, then gradually start getting more picky. It's no bad thing, but it is a shame that the cheap and easy thrills of general dating are ephemeral.
I went out last night to a Red Bull party where I drank WAY too much free rum. The last half of this post was written on a stinking hangover, so apologies if my lack of mental faculties shows...this has kind of trailed off into nothingnesszzzzzzz......
In my room I take my t-shirt off, then kissing her I push her back onto my bed and tell her I'm going to put some music on. I put on Beach House I think and as I'm scrolling through my itunes, Posy is up behind me, kissing my back, reaching round and undoing my jeans. Her hand slips in outside my tight boxers and around my dick. I carry on playing with my mac as her hand now slips inside my underwear, her hand cold against my throbbing hot cock. I turn around and she's taken her dress and leggings off, I kiss her slowly but intensely. My cock is poking up trapped under the elastic, she licks her fingers and staring deep into my eyes rubs her wet fingers around the head of me. Really. Really. Slowly. And it is fucking amazing making my cock almost painfully hard. Dropping down to her knees she replaces her fingers with the soft ministrations of her mouth, planting wet kisses on me.
We fuck and it's pretty good. Not out of this world, so to stop this blog becoming too repetitive I shan't go into details.
As I say, Burlesque cancelled on me on Wednesday so a quick text and me and Posy were back in bed fucking again. She's pretty cool, but I don't feel a great connection with her. I think maybe a year or so ago I'd have been more than happy to have Posy as a fuck buddy, but I think I yearn for more now. This generally happens every time I go online dating, I start off by going on lots of dates, then gradually start getting more picky. It's no bad thing, but it is a shame that the cheap and easy thrills of general dating are ephemeral.
I went out last night to a Red Bull party where I drank WAY too much free rum. The last half of this post was written on a stinking hangover, so apologies if my lack of mental faculties shows...this has kind of trailed off into nothingnesszzzzzzz......
Wednesday, 9 March 2011
Turnaround
I've had a couple of dates since Valentines, nothing earth shattering, but fun nonetheless.
Most recent was Y, a girl I met on a dating website. We chatted a bit and after a few cancellations we finally met up lat week. Y is a pretty girl. Half Scottish, half Palestinian she has a look I love: dark hair, olive skin and dark eyes. She wore her hair long, parted to the side, framing a smiley face, straight cute nose and really hot full lips. She said she went to the gym a lot, and it showed. She had poured herself into really tight grey jeans showing off long toned legs and an ass which I genuinely struggled not to grab later in the night. Like something out of an American Apparel ad when it was still run by Dov Charney.
We ordered drinks and started to chit chat, settling into an easy rhythm of somewhat bland, but free flowing conversation. This continued throughout the night, talking about food we liked to cook, going to the gym etc. The thing was, though in the back of my mind was the thought that this was all pretty mundane - it was also nice. Y had signed up to about 5 dating websites since September to 'keep herself entertained', however she swore blind that she'd only had two dates. I was number two.
Halfway through the night I lent over and kissed her, just a soft kiss on the lips. She kissed me back, no tongues, but soft kisses still. I couldn't get Y pegged, she seemed like a clever, 'nice' girl, but I wasn't sure if she had an edge at all. We stayed in the bar till past midnight, with her drinking soft drinks due to work in the morning.
We left together and I walked her part of the way to her tube. When we said goodbye. I went to kiss her but got nothing back really, so I asked her to text me that she got home safely and we went our separate ways. It was a pleasant evening, she was a nice girl, but there weren't any huge fireworks and I guess I just wasn't her type.
Instead of just never speaking again, four days later I sent her a message saying it was nice to meet her, hope her job didn't consume her entirely (she had a crazy project on which was making her work weekends too) and good luck. I'd rather just be nice and wish someone well. She replied saying yes it was nice to meet, but "it was nice to meet you" sounded kind of final. So since we were being honest I explained that it was more me inferring from her, that she didn't seem that interested which was fair enough, so you know, I thought it better to say thanks and farewell.
She replied saying, and I quote:
"Are you kidding? Probably the last thing a girl should say to a guy, but I've been waiting to hear from you all weekend! I had a great night with you. x"
Oh, helloooo...
This was an unexpected reply. We sent a few more messages, one of mine contained a reference to trying not to simply think of porn when the lesbian scene in Black Swan comes on (Aronofsky, I salute you: Kunis AND Portman? I'm not sure there could have been a finer on screen match up for me). She quipped that why on earth wouldn't I want to think of porn, that it's great or something.
Again. I did not have her down as someone who would respond like that. Maybe she was just playing along, but still, it surprised me.
I think we're going to meet up next week. However one thing troubles me, and that is she has a fractured rib. And as stupid as this may sound, it worries me that if we were to end up fucking...well, could we? Would I be able to pick her up? To throw her round, flip her roughly over as I roughly fuck her from behind? Hmmmm. We shall see.
Well, we shall see if anything develops there.
In other news; I met up with a girl called Posy for the first time a week before this. We had a good night, she came back to mine. I'd go into more details here of course, only she will now have her own separate post.
Since I'm now at a loose end I've made arrangements to meet up with her tonight instead....well, I'm not going to let myself go to waste now am I? ;)
Unremarkably yours x
Most recent was Y, a girl I met on a dating website. We chatted a bit and after a few cancellations we finally met up lat week. Y is a pretty girl. Half Scottish, half Palestinian she has a look I love: dark hair, olive skin and dark eyes. She wore her hair long, parted to the side, framing a smiley face, straight cute nose and really hot full lips. She said she went to the gym a lot, and it showed. She had poured herself into really tight grey jeans showing off long toned legs and an ass which I genuinely struggled not to grab later in the night. Like something out of an American Apparel ad when it was still run by Dov Charney.
We ordered drinks and started to chit chat, settling into an easy rhythm of somewhat bland, but free flowing conversation. This continued throughout the night, talking about food we liked to cook, going to the gym etc. The thing was, though in the back of my mind was the thought that this was all pretty mundane - it was also nice. Y had signed up to about 5 dating websites since September to 'keep herself entertained', however she swore blind that she'd only had two dates. I was number two.
Halfway through the night I lent over and kissed her, just a soft kiss on the lips. She kissed me back, no tongues, but soft kisses still. I couldn't get Y pegged, she seemed like a clever, 'nice' girl, but I wasn't sure if she had an edge at all. We stayed in the bar till past midnight, with her drinking soft drinks due to work in the morning.
We left together and I walked her part of the way to her tube. When we said goodbye. I went to kiss her but got nothing back really, so I asked her to text me that she got home safely and we went our separate ways. It was a pleasant evening, she was a nice girl, but there weren't any huge fireworks and I guess I just wasn't her type.
Instead of just never speaking again, four days later I sent her a message saying it was nice to meet her, hope her job didn't consume her entirely (she had a crazy project on which was making her work weekends too) and good luck. I'd rather just be nice and wish someone well. She replied saying yes it was nice to meet, but "it was nice to meet you" sounded kind of final. So since we were being honest I explained that it was more me inferring from her, that she didn't seem that interested which was fair enough, so you know, I thought it better to say thanks and farewell.
She replied saying, and I quote:
"Are you kidding? Probably the last thing a girl should say to a guy, but I've been waiting to hear from you all weekend! I had a great night with you. x"
Oh, helloooo...
This was an unexpected reply. We sent a few more messages, one of mine contained a reference to trying not to simply think of porn when the lesbian scene in Black Swan comes on (Aronofsky, I salute you: Kunis AND Portman? I'm not sure there could have been a finer on screen match up for me). She quipped that why on earth wouldn't I want to think of porn, that it's great or something.
Again. I did not have her down as someone who would respond like that. Maybe she was just playing along, but still, it surprised me.
I think we're going to meet up next week. However one thing troubles me, and that is she has a fractured rib. And as stupid as this may sound, it worries me that if we were to end up fucking...well, could we? Would I be able to pick her up? To throw her round, flip her roughly over as I roughly fuck her from behind? Hmmmm. We shall see.
Well, we shall see if anything develops there.
In other news; I met up with a girl called Posy for the first time a week before this. We had a good night, she came back to mine. I'd go into more details here of course, only she will now have her own separate post.
Since I'm now at a loose end I've made arrangements to meet up with her tonight instead....well, I'm not going to let myself go to waste now am I? ;)
Unremarkably yours x
Thursday, 3 February 2011
Photo Booth
I met up with Photo Booth (or 'PB') last night. For those unfamiliar with the workings of a Mac, there's a program called Photo Booth that lets you take pics of yourself with the webcam - PB had taken 6 different poses and used them all on her dating profile. It amused me because these obvs weren't taken by anyone else but herself. She'd clearly sat there for at least 10 minutes snapping away by herself, laughing, touching her mouth, looking cute, looking sultry - until she felt the pics she had were just the right mix of personality and sexiness. However to me these pictures just look retarded.
All I can see is a person sat there by themselves, acting like they're having a really good time. Looking and smiling at the lamp that's just out of shot, laughing at the joke the vase of dried flowers just told them etc.
Anyway. So I messaged her saying "Someone likes photo booth then..." She replied saying she was shocked but amused as no one else had taken such a tactless approach when saying hi. The fact she took it in the way it was meant was good, it meant she didn't take herself too seriously. Plus her profile had a few amusing things on it
I love the way an octopus swims, everything that happens in the wrists and eating strawberries and blueberries, in-fact any berry, i'd like to be a berry
Never wait until tomorrow to hug someone you could hug today, because when you give one, you get one right back your way !!!
She was obviously taking the piss. Only I didn't get to congratulate her on this as her membership had ended. We'd swapped facebook details though so arranged a drink and didn't speak from there on in basically. Which takes us to last night.
I'm not saying I believe in love at first sight, but animal attraction is something else. I've met girls where you just know straight away that you're going to fuck. That feeling is great, you've nothing to go on other than the fact you know you want to, and that there's this chemistry or something between you it's just a matter of seeing if it will be resolved. I had the opposite feeling to this with PB.
I knew I'd made a mistake as soon as she walked in.
She sat down, awkward cheek kisses and when the waiter came over to take out drinks she asked for a mineral water. I thought "Hmm, probably thirsty, she'll get a wine later maybe?" Then the waiter asked if she'd like a bottle?
"Yes please"
Fuck.
Oh dear, this isn't good.
Ok, throw in an ice breaker, let's make some small talk:
"So PB, how's all this online dating stuff working out for you? What made you decide to give it a go"
Her face goes blank and she starts to look around. A frown creeps over her forehead. A nervous laugh. After about 10 seconds (count them, that's a long time of awkwardness), I jump in with,
"I mean why not I guess right?!"
She had nothing to say, she didn't know why, she couldn't think up some random conversational stuff to say here. EVERYONE is able to answer this or at least have an opinion on it, everyone has been able to say something about it. But not PB.
"Um, I don't know why really"
And that was that, she was happy with her response and then just sat there a little.
So then I proceed to have the DRYEST date I've ever had in my life. Literally my entire life. It was just such hard work. She had no spark, nothing. She seemed to take everything I said at face value, no banter, no imagination, no jokes at all. It was at this point I remembered her profile and realised that oh my god, none of it was a joke: She actually did want to be a berry! She really did like to say things about hugs that rhymed! The girl was a fucking moron.
I wanted to leave after one drink but I couldn't do that, that was just too rude. I got another pint and then proceeded to pull teeth for the rest of it. There are numerous ridiculous things that happened but I'm falling asleep just thinking about them. I drained my drink and said,
"Right I think we'll call it a night there then"
I paid for the drinks, made polite conversation as we walked out, kissed her, said it was nice to meet her and then stifled a giggle as I crossed the road, the laugh building in me out of relief to be out of there and incredulity at how bad it was.
My friend later took great joy laughing at me saying I deserved it, that it was about time I had some bad date experiences for a change (she's just had a run of bad dates). It made me realise how damn lucky I've been these past few years.
And I have been lucky. I'm an amiable guy, I like to ask questions, I like to find out about people, what makes them tick, to find out what in life matters to them - I don't go on dates and talk endlessly about myself, quite the opposite - I'm not keen on talking about myself at all. Each and every date I've gone on we've got on, had decent enough conversations, got drunk and invariably kissed. There were two occasions where there was no kissing, one was my choice: the girl looked nothing like her pictures and was 45 minutes late. The other: we had four pints and got on, but she just wasn't into me. So now I could add PB to this list.
However.....that wasn't the end of my night there. Oh no.
It's at this point I'll break off, you all go and make a cup of tea or something and when I come back I'll introduce to you my friend who I've been messing around with on and off (a lot more off than on) for a few years now...
All I can see is a person sat there by themselves, acting like they're having a really good time. Looking and smiling at the lamp that's just out of shot, laughing at the joke the vase of dried flowers just told them etc.
Anyway. So I messaged her saying "Someone likes photo booth then..." She replied saying she was shocked but amused as no one else had taken such a tactless approach when saying hi. The fact she took it in the way it was meant was good, it meant she didn't take herself too seriously. Plus her profile had a few amusing things on it
I love the way an octopus swims, everything that happens in the wrists and eating strawberries and blueberries, in-fact any berry, i'd like to be a berry
Never wait until tomorrow to hug someone you could hug today, because when you give one, you get one right back your way !!!
She was obviously taking the piss. Only I didn't get to congratulate her on this as her membership had ended. We'd swapped facebook details though so arranged a drink and didn't speak from there on in basically. Which takes us to last night.
I'm not saying I believe in love at first sight, but animal attraction is something else. I've met girls where you just know straight away that you're going to fuck. That feeling is great, you've nothing to go on other than the fact you know you want to, and that there's this chemistry or something between you it's just a matter of seeing if it will be resolved. I had the opposite feeling to this with PB.
I knew I'd made a mistake as soon as she walked in.
She sat down, awkward cheek kisses and when the waiter came over to take out drinks she asked for a mineral water. I thought "Hmm, probably thirsty, she'll get a wine later maybe?" Then the waiter asked if she'd like a bottle?
"Yes please"
Fuck.
Oh dear, this isn't good.
Ok, throw in an ice breaker, let's make some small talk:
"So PB, how's all this online dating stuff working out for you? What made you decide to give it a go"
Her face goes blank and she starts to look around. A frown creeps over her forehead. A nervous laugh. After about 10 seconds (count them, that's a long time of awkwardness), I jump in with,
"I mean why not I guess right?!"
She had nothing to say, she didn't know why, she couldn't think up some random conversational stuff to say here. EVERYONE is able to answer this or at least have an opinion on it, everyone has been able to say something about it. But not PB.
"Um, I don't know why really"
And that was that, she was happy with her response and then just sat there a little.
So then I proceed to have the DRYEST date I've ever had in my life. Literally my entire life. It was just such hard work. She had no spark, nothing. She seemed to take everything I said at face value, no banter, no imagination, no jokes at all. It was at this point I remembered her profile and realised that oh my god, none of it was a joke: She actually did want to be a berry! She really did like to say things about hugs that rhymed! The girl was a fucking moron.
I wanted to leave after one drink but I couldn't do that, that was just too rude. I got another pint and then proceeded to pull teeth for the rest of it. There are numerous ridiculous things that happened but I'm falling asleep just thinking about them. I drained my drink and said,
"Right I think we'll call it a night there then"
I paid for the drinks, made polite conversation as we walked out, kissed her, said it was nice to meet her and then stifled a giggle as I crossed the road, the laugh building in me out of relief to be out of there and incredulity at how bad it was.
My friend later took great joy laughing at me saying I deserved it, that it was about time I had some bad date experiences for a change (she's just had a run of bad dates). It made me realise how damn lucky I've been these past few years.
And I have been lucky. I'm an amiable guy, I like to ask questions, I like to find out about people, what makes them tick, to find out what in life matters to them - I don't go on dates and talk endlessly about myself, quite the opposite - I'm not keen on talking about myself at all. Each and every date I've gone on we've got on, had decent enough conversations, got drunk and invariably kissed. There were two occasions where there was no kissing, one was my choice: the girl looked nothing like her pictures and was 45 minutes late. The other: we had four pints and got on, but she just wasn't into me. So now I could add PB to this list.
However.....that wasn't the end of my night there. Oh no.
It's at this point I'll break off, you all go and make a cup of tea or something and when I come back I'll introduce to you my friend who I've been messing around with on and off (a lot more off than on) for a few years now...
Sunday, 23 January 2011
1st date of the year
I should at this point let you know I'd already put up a number of posts here. However for some reason these disappeared without warning or reason, and I'm still none the wiser as to why. The only thing I can think is that I linked to a comedic porn video to exemplify a point. But really? Is this place actually that prudish?
Anyway my point here being that the date I'm about to tell you about happened on January 10th, a few weeks ago now.
I'd been talking to 'O' for a week maybe, she lived East, hated the use of emoticons, was a published writer, and could only meet at the start of the week because her other job kept her busy later in the week.
"I'm an erotic dancer, I hope that doesn't freak you out".
Err.....no, I think I'm pretty much ok with that O.
I should probably tell you that I'm a pervert. Yes, I am a man and we all are to some extent, but I have the sex drive of a teenager which instead of just myself and my computer, I've been lucky enough to indulge with some like minded other people. I don't hold myself up to be challenging the Marquis or Don, but I've met few girls who seem to be as libidinous as me. I've had a threesome with a couple, impromptu quickies in amusing places, and being dominant I've enjoyed a great many things of my choosing. K was one who matched me and who had a more vociferous, or at least, more numerously sated sex life before me (actually, during too which was less than ideal)
I guess maybe I'd put my own drive down to a decade of monogamy and dwindling sex with that person by the end - I had a lot of catching up to do. I also think this informs how I treat women. I love women. I had and have a lot of friends who are girls, I don't view girls just as sexual objects - although I do objectify the women I'm attracted to, but in a good way and not to the detriment of the other reasons I'm attracted to her i.e. her mind. I'm said to be emotionally intelligent and empathetic, enough for it to not surprise me when another girl later tells me that to begin with she thought I could be gay.
So now, I'm kind of like a watered down boyfriend all the time. Sex wise the girl could have her hands tied behind her back, my hand could be pulling her hair, a thumb in her ass as I pound her, gruffly telling her what a dirty slut she is as she watches me in the mirror. But then afterwards, I'm going to be more than happy to have her lie on my chest as I stroke her hair, talk and then spoon till sleep takes us (DISCLAIMER: That's if we get on or this isn't just an arranged fuck and nothing else etc). I don't think that this is that unusual, but still - from what I've been told it's an interesting mix.
Aaaanyway. Rambling again. Back to the date.
So yeah, she's a stripper. I've always found strip clubs a weird little psychological microcosm. I'm talking about the more upmarket ones. Are they places where women are exploited, demeaned and belittled by men? Or are they as much places where women are entirely in control, emancipated, with a sense of power as they disdainfully pluck money from these base men's wallets with aplomb? I love a beautiful, perfectly waxed, spread and presented pussy all up in my face as much as the next man, but I don't understand the appeal of handing crisp £20 note after crisp £20 note over in order to get nothing other than more and more frustrated.
However a woman who is confident in herself, confident in her overt sexuality and revels in using her body and mind to turn a guy on? That. Shit. Is. HOT. So meeting O, a girl with an apparently engaging mind who has a penchant for fucking, outside of the strip club scenario was something I was way into.
We went to Last Days Of Decadence which was shit. Monday night and dead. They were doing DIY and had the main lights up on full FFS (nothing worse than bright ambient light in my book). She was late. So I got a beer and sat reading the paper. She turns up 30 mins later, apologises and I go get some drinks which are overpriced and under-made. A dirty martini for her, an old fashioned for me.
She's not quite as trim as her pictures or profession would have led me to believe, however she's pretty and in shape. She's wearing a dark floral print dress, her hair is loose, long and brown (I love brunettes). Her eyes are green mottled with flecks of brown and her make up sparse, however applied with a hand practiced enough so that what is there has more of an effect than it should. We talk about her favourite authors, her style of writing, what her novel is about and the sort of characterisation she favours. Which gave me an answer to something I'd wondered before too. When you're stripping, as well as a different name, do you also affect a whole different identity? As much for fun as self preservation. Turns out that for O at least, yes you do. And being a creative mind, she had some hilariously developed ones, girls with backstories, foibles, relations, all sorts. I guess in some ways being a stripper offers an aspiring writer the chance to road test and develop some of her characters to see how believable and engaging they are (albeit as the guy stares at your tits and agrees/laughs with everything you have to say).
I've bought a couple of drinks now and O goes to the bar to get the next. She comes back with some drinks and tells me she's forgotten to bring out enough money. Which is pretty fucking cheeky (SPOILER ALERT: She had money for a cab home in the morning though). I can't help but feel her habits of not having to dip her hand into her purse on a night out have seeped into her day to day. But anyway.
Having said that, she tells me she's going to go have a cigarette. She slowly applies lip gloss and makes it the sexiest thing in the world before standing up and vamping her way to the door, knowing full well what she's doing. It has it's desired effect. I've pretty much forgotten any monetary issues (going back to my earlier question of whether it's men or women in control there - I think you have your answer).
The booze and liberal conversation is also having it's effect and when she comes back I decide fuck it, I'm going to kiss her. I see no point in being backwards about this kind of thing. You're both there to get on and at some point fuck, if not, why the hell are you there? If she tells you you've got the wrong idea then hey, shit happens. So a pause in conversation presents itself and I lean in, I kiss her softly and she kisses me back, just lips for a few seconds and then I leave it at that - I may be forward but I'm not going to search for cavities with my tongue like a teenager. Not at this stage anyway. But it's on.
We go on to a few other bars, drinking cocktails, shots and generally getting wasted. It's after midnight now and I suggest we head back to mine for a drink. We get a taxi and in the back she says "I'm not going to sleep with you you know?" to which all I could say was something like "Damn, and there I was hoping to get all these drinks paid back with demeaning sexual acts". She laughs and we resume kissing.
Back at mine I open a bottle of red, take her to my room and put a record on. Things are of course going particularly well. I'm aware that yes, I do have in my room a girl who is pretty and also a stripper. I'm also aware that most men who have been in my situation and armed with this knowledge are probably over eager - so I'm not intending to add to their number. So we're on my bed kissing, I'm lying next to her, verging on top of her. My kisses are teasing, soft, but laden with sexual intent. One hand is in her hair, the other is wandering over her curves, lightly touching her, circling her nipples, as her legs open my hand runs up and down the inside of her thigh, getting closer and closer to the heat I can actually feel from between them, before slowly drawing my hand between her legs, over her stomach and pulling back.
We'd already spoken about power and control between the sexes. Societally, in the strip club and sexually. So I knew that my like of being in control and taking the reins was happily complimented in hers to yield. I asked her to pass me my drink. She rolled over, stood up and passed it to me - the lamp on the floor was kind of backlighting her dress, I can see the shape of her legs, the light accentuating her curves. She looked hot.
"Wait, stay standing there. You look hot"
Most girls would probably feel self conscious in this situation, especially on a first date. I guessed correctly that she of course wouldn't. She straightened up, moved her weight onto one leg and with her hands on the back of her hips so her breasts stood out, did as I asked.
"Now take that dress off for me"
Her eyes narrowed as she smiled at me questioningly. I took another sip of my drink. Pausing, then holding her eyes with a hungry stare,
"I asked you to take your dress off..."
Moving over and placing my drink on the floor
"...I won't ask again"
Smiling she reaches back, unzips her dress and in one movement lifts the flimsy material over her head to reveal a black bra, a mix of lace and viscose, and french knickers through which I could see her perfectly trimmed pubic hair leading down to what I couldn't wait to taste.
Now I'd not normally be this forward on a first date, but when armed with the knowledge that she likes a man to be a man and is obviously body confident it just made sense at the time. Plus, let's be honest - I was pretty drunk.
I stand up and pulling her into me by her ass, kiss her hard. Lifting her up I turn round with her and lower her to the bed, lie in between her legs and grind my cock into her as she pulls my mouth onto hers and thrusts up to meet my cock. Subtlety is a forgotten word at this point, we're both in the heat of the moment - I reach round and unclip her bra, my hands cup her tits as I hungrily kiss and suck her nipples. With my hands still on her breasts I begin to kiss my way down her body, across her soft stomach, my tongue licking her naval which makes her jolt. She's still lying sideways along my bed and I've slipped off the bed now onto my knees - I pull her body towards me, my hands opening her legs wide and softly again now I kiss the sensitive insides of her thighs from one to the other, avoiding what the see through material is covering in the middle but blowing onto her as I do. My tongue now licks right at the top of the inside of her thighs, her breathing is getting heavier and my cock is throbbing. I stop. She opens her eyes and looks down at me as I push her legs up and wide. I smile a dirty smile and for the first time, lick all the way from her ass to her clit which I tongue and breathe hot breath heavily onto through her now wet knickers.
(At this stage I feel it appropriate to tell you that I LOVE giving head. I cannot understand those men who don't. Or who can't. It's one of the hottest things to be that intimate with a girls pussy. Giving pleasure is almost as good as getting for me, whilst I'm dominant, that doesn't mean selfish - in fact quite the opposite. Being in control of a girl's pleasure, knowing that you're the one who is making her breath like that, say the filth that she is, thrash around and spasm like that - it's hot. If I had a really hot fuck buddy who was local to me, if she wanted me to come over, spend 20 minutes going down on her, teasing and playing with her till she came before leaving straight away after? I'd be into it. The idea of a girl I'm into pushing me back and sitting her pussy on my face just like that is a massive turn on.)
I pull her knickers down unceremoniously and with a broad flat tongue I again lick from her ass slowly up to her clit. She's really wet and her clit is pleasingly poking out a little now so I pay it the attention it's looking for. First with a soft tongue circling it slowly, then with just the tip barely touching her I flick my tongue over it hard and fast, grazing it. I reach up to her tits and as I start to lick her more directly, my fingers roll her erect nipples between them. She's moaning now, her pants and involuntary 'fucks' are only turning me on more. One finger is circling the outside of her pussy lips, dipping inside her and pulling back, the other hand is now exposing her clit more for me to flick with my tongue, a thumb rubbing just above her clit as I push my finger into her and rhythmically start to fuck her. I reach for her G-Spot. In my experience (and it's only mine) I'd say that maybe 30% of women enjoy this, for the rest it's either too sensitive, doesn't seem to do anything or makes them feel like they need to pee or something. O was in the 30%. I'm breathing hard myself now, I'm licking like an epileptic thirsty cat, my fingers fucking her hard and she starts babbling, gripping my sheets, she's going to cum.
I stop.
"You don't get to cum yet."
I kiss her cunt, and licking slowly up and down her sodden lips and clit I say to her,
"You'll cum when I say you can you understand?"
I punctuate this by pressing harder onto her G-Spot. She bites her bottom lip and almost looking like she's in pain from the effect it's having nods quickly. I move up and kiss her slowly then stand up in front of her and undo my belt.
She moves forward and sitting on the side of my bed kisses my chest and abs slowly with a wet open mouth as she undoes my trousers and begins to massage me through my boxers. Looking intently at what she's about to unveil, she pulls the waistband of them out and over me, pulling them down along with my trousers. My cock springs up and hits her in the chin.
It's a moment of reality in amongst being lost in sex and I like it. We laugh and the atmosphere is broken for a second, but in a good way. It's almost as though that bit of humour has allowed the dynamic to change too. She gets down on her knees, takes my rock hard cock in her hand and starts to kiss the tip of my cock whilst she looks deep into my eyes and asks if I like her being my slut. She's in control now. I nod. She pulls back on my cock and takes me into her mouth, fucking me with it a few times. Licking her hands she starts to wank me, one hand working my cock, the other rubbing and cupping my balls - looking up into my eyes with faux innocence she asks,
"Are you going to fuck me hard with this?"
She circles her tongue around the head, sucks me and when she pulls back, leaves a trail of saliva from the tip of my cock to her bottom lip.
"I'm so fucking wet for you, are you going to pound my pussy hard all night?"
My response is a garbled noise and frantic nod, her hands and mouth have stolen any eloquence or smart quips that may have sounded cool here, I have a monosyllabic mind, and that one word is "FUUUUUCK".
Ok.
At this point I feel that the break of me having to get a condom, almost falling over myself to get it on as she lay back playing with herself is a good point to stop with the detailed descriptions. I can't help but feel anyone reading could be bored, plus this blog could get a little repetitive (so long as girls continue to want to fuck me of course).
However I will say one more thing about our night together and that's the first time she came.
I was on top of her, her legs pressed up to her chest - I'm sweating from pounding her so hard and she's rubbing her clit frantically. She's getting louder and louder (thankfully my housemates were out), and I can feel she's getting wetter and wetter it seems too. And then she cums. And I feel a warmth around my pubic hair. She's really seeming to enjoy it and there's that warmth again. Then I twig. She's a squirter. Now I've never experienced this before, but I've got to say it's fucking hot. It's messy, she's not able to control herself as she's lost in her orgasm and it just seems like pure SEX. The only downside was that I had to get a towel to sleep on, she came a lot throughout the night.
So as my first date for 2011 goes, it was a good one. Not all girls will be quite so obliging I know, and in fairness, I'd not expect them to be either. Building your sexual palette together is an important thing too, it's not all 'in at the deep end'. Meeting a girl who isn't as experienced but willing to try things is as much of a turn on as someone who has been there, done it and is only too happy and able to do it again, and again, and again...
The next day and even falling asleep afterwards, I actually felt a bit empty, it all felt a little bit meaningless. It's really quite annoying. I used to do this and it was all positive, all fun, no one got hurt, everyone knew what was going on and the next day was just spent replaying parts in my head at my desk. Not having meaning or an emotional connection meant it felt a little meaningless and left me a bit sad. (I'm talking like a teenage girl I know). Even though I know it's a good thing that we're not going out now, even though I know that she's not the girl she seemed to be or who cares about me, I still think about K. Every day. I still miss her.
I think I'm going to be single for a while. My heart is still bruised.
But then on the bright side it's not just my heart. My cock was pretty sore the next day from the workout it got too. So it's not all bad really.
Thanks O, you were fun x
Anyway my point here being that the date I'm about to tell you about happened on January 10th, a few weeks ago now.
I'd been talking to 'O' for a week maybe, she lived East, hated the use of emoticons, was a published writer, and could only meet at the start of the week because her other job kept her busy later in the week.
"I'm an erotic dancer, I hope that doesn't freak you out".
Err.....no, I think I'm pretty much ok with that O.
I should probably tell you that I'm a pervert. Yes, I am a man and we all are to some extent, but I have the sex drive of a teenager which instead of just myself and my computer, I've been lucky enough to indulge with some like minded other people. I don't hold myself up to be challenging the Marquis or Don, but I've met few girls who seem to be as libidinous as me. I've had a threesome with a couple, impromptu quickies in amusing places, and being dominant I've enjoyed a great many things of my choosing. K was one who matched me and who had a more vociferous, or at least, more numerously sated sex life before me (actually, during too which was less than ideal)
I guess maybe I'd put my own drive down to a decade of monogamy and dwindling sex with that person by the end - I had a lot of catching up to do. I also think this informs how I treat women. I love women. I had and have a lot of friends who are girls, I don't view girls just as sexual objects - although I do objectify the women I'm attracted to, but in a good way and not to the detriment of the other reasons I'm attracted to her i.e. her mind. I'm said to be emotionally intelligent and empathetic, enough for it to not surprise me when another girl later tells me that to begin with she thought I could be gay.
So now, I'm kind of like a watered down boyfriend all the time. Sex wise the girl could have her hands tied behind her back, my hand could be pulling her hair, a thumb in her ass as I pound her, gruffly telling her what a dirty slut she is as she watches me in the mirror. But then afterwards, I'm going to be more than happy to have her lie on my chest as I stroke her hair, talk and then spoon till sleep takes us (DISCLAIMER: That's if we get on or this isn't just an arranged fuck and nothing else etc). I don't think that this is that unusual, but still - from what I've been told it's an interesting mix.
Aaaanyway. Rambling again. Back to the date.
So yeah, she's a stripper. I've always found strip clubs a weird little psychological microcosm. I'm talking about the more upmarket ones. Are they places where women are exploited, demeaned and belittled by men? Or are they as much places where women are entirely in control, emancipated, with a sense of power as they disdainfully pluck money from these base men's wallets with aplomb? I love a beautiful, perfectly waxed, spread and presented pussy all up in my face as much as the next man, but I don't understand the appeal of handing crisp £20 note after crisp £20 note over in order to get nothing other than more and more frustrated.
However a woman who is confident in herself, confident in her overt sexuality and revels in using her body and mind to turn a guy on? That. Shit. Is. HOT. So meeting O, a girl with an apparently engaging mind who has a penchant for fucking, outside of the strip club scenario was something I was way into.
We went to Last Days Of Decadence which was shit. Monday night and dead. They were doing DIY and had the main lights up on full FFS (nothing worse than bright ambient light in my book). She was late. So I got a beer and sat reading the paper. She turns up 30 mins later, apologises and I go get some drinks which are overpriced and under-made. A dirty martini for her, an old fashioned for me.
She's not quite as trim as her pictures or profession would have led me to believe, however she's pretty and in shape. She's wearing a dark floral print dress, her hair is loose, long and brown (I love brunettes). Her eyes are green mottled with flecks of brown and her make up sparse, however applied with a hand practiced enough so that what is there has more of an effect than it should. We talk about her favourite authors, her style of writing, what her novel is about and the sort of characterisation she favours. Which gave me an answer to something I'd wondered before too. When you're stripping, as well as a different name, do you also affect a whole different identity? As much for fun as self preservation. Turns out that for O at least, yes you do. And being a creative mind, she had some hilariously developed ones, girls with backstories, foibles, relations, all sorts. I guess in some ways being a stripper offers an aspiring writer the chance to road test and develop some of her characters to see how believable and engaging they are (albeit as the guy stares at your tits and agrees/laughs with everything you have to say).
I've bought a couple of drinks now and O goes to the bar to get the next. She comes back with some drinks and tells me she's forgotten to bring out enough money. Which is pretty fucking cheeky (SPOILER ALERT: She had money for a cab home in the morning though). I can't help but feel her habits of not having to dip her hand into her purse on a night out have seeped into her day to day. But anyway.
Having said that, she tells me she's going to go have a cigarette. She slowly applies lip gloss and makes it the sexiest thing in the world before standing up and vamping her way to the door, knowing full well what she's doing. It has it's desired effect. I've pretty much forgotten any monetary issues (going back to my earlier question of whether it's men or women in control there - I think you have your answer).
The booze and liberal conversation is also having it's effect and when she comes back I decide fuck it, I'm going to kiss her. I see no point in being backwards about this kind of thing. You're both there to get on and at some point fuck, if not, why the hell are you there? If she tells you you've got the wrong idea then hey, shit happens. So a pause in conversation presents itself and I lean in, I kiss her softly and she kisses me back, just lips for a few seconds and then I leave it at that - I may be forward but I'm not going to search for cavities with my tongue like a teenager. Not at this stage anyway. But it's on.
We go on to a few other bars, drinking cocktails, shots and generally getting wasted. It's after midnight now and I suggest we head back to mine for a drink. We get a taxi and in the back she says "I'm not going to sleep with you you know?" to which all I could say was something like "Damn, and there I was hoping to get all these drinks paid back with demeaning sexual acts". She laughs and we resume kissing.
Back at mine I open a bottle of red, take her to my room and put a record on. Things are of course going particularly well. I'm aware that yes, I do have in my room a girl who is pretty and also a stripper. I'm also aware that most men who have been in my situation and armed with this knowledge are probably over eager - so I'm not intending to add to their number. So we're on my bed kissing, I'm lying next to her, verging on top of her. My kisses are teasing, soft, but laden with sexual intent. One hand is in her hair, the other is wandering over her curves, lightly touching her, circling her nipples, as her legs open my hand runs up and down the inside of her thigh, getting closer and closer to the heat I can actually feel from between them, before slowly drawing my hand between her legs, over her stomach and pulling back.
We'd already spoken about power and control between the sexes. Societally, in the strip club and sexually. So I knew that my like of being in control and taking the reins was happily complimented in hers to yield. I asked her to pass me my drink. She rolled over, stood up and passed it to me - the lamp on the floor was kind of backlighting her dress, I can see the shape of her legs, the light accentuating her curves. She looked hot.
"Wait, stay standing there. You look hot"
Most girls would probably feel self conscious in this situation, especially on a first date. I guessed correctly that she of course wouldn't. She straightened up, moved her weight onto one leg and with her hands on the back of her hips so her breasts stood out, did as I asked.
"Now take that dress off for me"
Her eyes narrowed as she smiled at me questioningly. I took another sip of my drink. Pausing, then holding her eyes with a hungry stare,
"I asked you to take your dress off..."
Moving over and placing my drink on the floor
"...I won't ask again"
Smiling she reaches back, unzips her dress and in one movement lifts the flimsy material over her head to reveal a black bra, a mix of lace and viscose, and french knickers through which I could see her perfectly trimmed pubic hair leading down to what I couldn't wait to taste.
Now I'd not normally be this forward on a first date, but when armed with the knowledge that she likes a man to be a man and is obviously body confident it just made sense at the time. Plus, let's be honest - I was pretty drunk.
I stand up and pulling her into me by her ass, kiss her hard. Lifting her up I turn round with her and lower her to the bed, lie in between her legs and grind my cock into her as she pulls my mouth onto hers and thrusts up to meet my cock. Subtlety is a forgotten word at this point, we're both in the heat of the moment - I reach round and unclip her bra, my hands cup her tits as I hungrily kiss and suck her nipples. With my hands still on her breasts I begin to kiss my way down her body, across her soft stomach, my tongue licking her naval which makes her jolt. She's still lying sideways along my bed and I've slipped off the bed now onto my knees - I pull her body towards me, my hands opening her legs wide and softly again now I kiss the sensitive insides of her thighs from one to the other, avoiding what the see through material is covering in the middle but blowing onto her as I do. My tongue now licks right at the top of the inside of her thighs, her breathing is getting heavier and my cock is throbbing. I stop. She opens her eyes and looks down at me as I push her legs up and wide. I smile a dirty smile and for the first time, lick all the way from her ass to her clit which I tongue and breathe hot breath heavily onto through her now wet knickers.
(At this stage I feel it appropriate to tell you that I LOVE giving head. I cannot understand those men who don't. Or who can't. It's one of the hottest things to be that intimate with a girls pussy. Giving pleasure is almost as good as getting for me, whilst I'm dominant, that doesn't mean selfish - in fact quite the opposite. Being in control of a girl's pleasure, knowing that you're the one who is making her breath like that, say the filth that she is, thrash around and spasm like that - it's hot. If I had a really hot fuck buddy who was local to me, if she wanted me to come over, spend 20 minutes going down on her, teasing and playing with her till she came before leaving straight away after? I'd be into it. The idea of a girl I'm into pushing me back and sitting her pussy on my face just like that is a massive turn on.)
I pull her knickers down unceremoniously and with a broad flat tongue I again lick from her ass slowly up to her clit. She's really wet and her clit is pleasingly poking out a little now so I pay it the attention it's looking for. First with a soft tongue circling it slowly, then with just the tip barely touching her I flick my tongue over it hard and fast, grazing it. I reach up to her tits and as I start to lick her more directly, my fingers roll her erect nipples between them. She's moaning now, her pants and involuntary 'fucks' are only turning me on more. One finger is circling the outside of her pussy lips, dipping inside her and pulling back, the other hand is now exposing her clit more for me to flick with my tongue, a thumb rubbing just above her clit as I push my finger into her and rhythmically start to fuck her. I reach for her G-Spot. In my experience (and it's only mine) I'd say that maybe 30% of women enjoy this, for the rest it's either too sensitive, doesn't seem to do anything or makes them feel like they need to pee or something. O was in the 30%. I'm breathing hard myself now, I'm licking like an epileptic thirsty cat, my fingers fucking her hard and she starts babbling, gripping my sheets, she's going to cum.
I stop.
"You don't get to cum yet."
I kiss her cunt, and licking slowly up and down her sodden lips and clit I say to her,
"You'll cum when I say you can you understand?"
I punctuate this by pressing harder onto her G-Spot. She bites her bottom lip and almost looking like she's in pain from the effect it's having nods quickly. I move up and kiss her slowly then stand up in front of her and undo my belt.
She moves forward and sitting on the side of my bed kisses my chest and abs slowly with a wet open mouth as she undoes my trousers and begins to massage me through my boxers. Looking intently at what she's about to unveil, she pulls the waistband of them out and over me, pulling them down along with my trousers. My cock springs up and hits her in the chin.
It's a moment of reality in amongst being lost in sex and I like it. We laugh and the atmosphere is broken for a second, but in a good way. It's almost as though that bit of humour has allowed the dynamic to change too. She gets down on her knees, takes my rock hard cock in her hand and starts to kiss the tip of my cock whilst she looks deep into my eyes and asks if I like her being my slut. She's in control now. I nod. She pulls back on my cock and takes me into her mouth, fucking me with it a few times. Licking her hands she starts to wank me, one hand working my cock, the other rubbing and cupping my balls - looking up into my eyes with faux innocence she asks,
"Are you going to fuck me hard with this?"
She circles her tongue around the head, sucks me and when she pulls back, leaves a trail of saliva from the tip of my cock to her bottom lip.
"I'm so fucking wet for you, are you going to pound my pussy hard all night?"
My response is a garbled noise and frantic nod, her hands and mouth have stolen any eloquence or smart quips that may have sounded cool here, I have a monosyllabic mind, and that one word is "FUUUUUCK".
Ok.
At this point I feel that the break of me having to get a condom, almost falling over myself to get it on as she lay back playing with herself is a good point to stop with the detailed descriptions. I can't help but feel anyone reading could be bored, plus this blog could get a little repetitive (so long as girls continue to want to fuck me of course).
However I will say one more thing about our night together and that's the first time she came.
I was on top of her, her legs pressed up to her chest - I'm sweating from pounding her so hard and she's rubbing her clit frantically. She's getting louder and louder (thankfully my housemates were out), and I can feel she's getting wetter and wetter it seems too. And then she cums. And I feel a warmth around my pubic hair. She's really seeming to enjoy it and there's that warmth again. Then I twig. She's a squirter. Now I've never experienced this before, but I've got to say it's fucking hot. It's messy, she's not able to control herself as she's lost in her orgasm and it just seems like pure SEX. The only downside was that I had to get a towel to sleep on, she came a lot throughout the night.
So as my first date for 2011 goes, it was a good one. Not all girls will be quite so obliging I know, and in fairness, I'd not expect them to be either. Building your sexual palette together is an important thing too, it's not all 'in at the deep end'. Meeting a girl who isn't as experienced but willing to try things is as much of a turn on as someone who has been there, done it and is only too happy and able to do it again, and again, and again...
The next day and even falling asleep afterwards, I actually felt a bit empty, it all felt a little bit meaningless. It's really quite annoying. I used to do this and it was all positive, all fun, no one got hurt, everyone knew what was going on and the next day was just spent replaying parts in my head at my desk. Not having meaning or an emotional connection meant it felt a little meaningless and left me a bit sad. (I'm talking like a teenage girl I know). Even though I know it's a good thing that we're not going out now, even though I know that she's not the girl she seemed to be or who cares about me, I still think about K. Every day. I still miss her.
I think I'm going to be single for a while. My heart is still bruised.
But then on the bright side it's not just my heart. My cock was pretty sore the next day from the workout it got too. So it's not all bad really.
Thanks O, you were fun x
Friday, 21 January 2011
Online dating
So online dating? What's that all about eh?
A refuge for hermits, sanctury for the socially inept, and den of iniquity for the questionably moraled underbelly of society? Maybe.
Populated by a surprising amount of people from Clapham who, if you go by their pictures at least, seem to enjoy skiing? Definitely in my experience.
I'd say that online dating no longer suffers from the stigmas it once used to. To my mind sites like My Single Friend have done a lot to change attitudes (A site fronted by a tv personality, where you have to recruit a friend to write a paragraph telling everyone how great you are).
Whereas once you'd probably have felt your blood run cold if someone found out you were online dating, nowadays you're more than likely to tell your friends about it the day before and then regale them with stories the day after. You see, places like MSF made it a social, fun, and most importantly shared experience. I'm sure back in the day, guys had less of a problem to go online, but for girls I think it was a darker, more predatory space in ways.
For the rest of us - each and every day we all send messages, view pictures, and interact with people online, some we know well, others less so, some not at all as our inner voyeur peeks through the curtains of a perfect strangers unguarded security settings and at their holiday snaps. So meeting and getting to know people online makes sense.
You see for me, when I'm out, I'm out with my friends so I've no intention to spend my night casting meaningful glances around the room, ready at any minute to leave my friends and embark on a woo-a-thon. Since I don't go to meat markety places and I don't have many stella drinking single male friends, I have no wingmen to go out 'hunting' with. Plus I find it kind of cringy the idea of going up to a stranger at a bar, intruding on her night and then needing to deliver in the space of 4 minutes: chat which makes her think I'm funny, intelligent, caring and convinces her I'm in possession of the genes and a delivery device to pass them on which make all over men in the bar fade away (*ahem* I am, I am, I am, I do, I kind of do).
I like that you get to meet people who you'd not normally get a chance to meet on these sites. Either through geography, circumstance or prejudice. There have been a fair few girls I've hooked up with, even gone out with, who I'm sure either wouldn't have paid me attention in a bar, or who I wouldn't have bowled over to and chatted up all night. It's good that you can talk beforehand, sound them out, see if there's common ground, banter, a sense of humour etc. When you do meet up you've almost got all the awkward stuff out of the way as you've got a rapport of some sort already going on.
Now all of the above is retrospective reasoning. The main reason I joined up to the online dating world was due to what my friend told me a year or so ago. She said she had a friend, a guy, who went onto My single Friend looking for a girlfriend to settle with. After a few weeks of dating she asked him how it was going. He said it was not going so well, all of the girls he met up with just wanted to have sex. She said it seemed to him like it was just one big hook up site.
I was a fully paid up member by that weekend.
Up next: My first and third dates of the year. In chronological order.
A refuge for hermits, sanctury for the socially inept, and den of iniquity for the questionably moraled underbelly of society? Maybe.
Populated by a surprising amount of people from Clapham who, if you go by their pictures at least, seem to enjoy skiing? Definitely in my experience.
I'd say that online dating no longer suffers from the stigmas it once used to. To my mind sites like My Single Friend have done a lot to change attitudes (A site fronted by a tv personality, where you have to recruit a friend to write a paragraph telling everyone how great you are).
Whereas once you'd probably have felt your blood run cold if someone found out you were online dating, nowadays you're more than likely to tell your friends about it the day before and then regale them with stories the day after. You see, places like MSF made it a social, fun, and most importantly shared experience. I'm sure back in the day, guys had less of a problem to go online, but for girls I think it was a darker, more predatory space in ways.
For the rest of us - each and every day we all send messages, view pictures, and interact with people online, some we know well, others less so, some not at all as our inner voyeur peeks through the curtains of a perfect strangers unguarded security settings and at their holiday snaps. So meeting and getting to know people online makes sense.
You see for me, when I'm out, I'm out with my friends so I've no intention to spend my night casting meaningful glances around the room, ready at any minute to leave my friends and embark on a woo-a-thon. Since I don't go to meat markety places and I don't have many stella drinking single male friends, I have no wingmen to go out 'hunting' with. Plus I find it kind of cringy the idea of going up to a stranger at a bar, intruding on her night and then needing to deliver in the space of 4 minutes: chat which makes her think I'm funny, intelligent, caring and convinces her I'm in possession of the genes and a delivery device to pass them on which make all over men in the bar fade away (*ahem* I am, I am, I am, I do, I kind of do).
I like that you get to meet people who you'd not normally get a chance to meet on these sites. Either through geography, circumstance or prejudice. There have been a fair few girls I've hooked up with, even gone out with, who I'm sure either wouldn't have paid me attention in a bar, or who I wouldn't have bowled over to and chatted up all night. It's good that you can talk beforehand, sound them out, see if there's common ground, banter, a sense of humour etc. When you do meet up you've almost got all the awkward stuff out of the way as you've got a rapport of some sort already going on.
Now all of the above is retrospective reasoning. The main reason I joined up to the online dating world was due to what my friend told me a year or so ago. She said she had a friend, a guy, who went onto My single Friend looking for a girlfriend to settle with. After a few weeks of dating she asked him how it was going. He said it was not going so well, all of the girls he met up with just wanted to have sex. She said it seemed to him like it was just one big hook up site.
I was a fully paid up member by that weekend.
Up next: My first and third dates of the year. In chronological order.
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