Things shouldn't be an effort when you start dating. But that's how things have been going for me and Y.
Following on from our first date and subsequent interactions, we've had some miscommunications again. The short story is that I think we've both been messed around, however we've reacted to this differently. Whilst I am, or am trying to be laid back about dating, it seems she needs more up front signs and attention. So on Monday we kind of decided to not bother with it anymore.
However I'd rather things play out than for petty protocol issues to get in the way, so we've arranged to meet for a drink tomorrow night.
But this does raise the issue in my head of 'nice girls', and I fear Y could be one.
I would describe a 'nice girl' in this case as someone who enters into dating looking for a boyfriend. She is not going to sleep with anyone till at least three dates have been had, she's going to be old fashioned about things and expect to be woo'd and treated in such a way from the get go too. It's not about laid back fun to them, it's an assignment.
On this point, I've never understood those people who are serial monogamists: they go from one relationship to another. Surely you can't find that many people compatible?? You meet someone, then within weeks you're going out for 3 months. Then it happens again. And Again. I mean maybe these people are the luckiest people in the world meeting soulmate after soulmate, but I doubt it. I think they're settling. Settling for what's ok; it's easy, it's fine, it's companionship and safety.
I don't want that. I want butterflies in my stomach, the world to seem a different place with them in it; I want fucking fireworks in my head. And I'll love that person better than anyone else in the world can.
Ok these are kind of two separate points, and I'm not actually saying Y is exactly either of these, but I worry that she's not on the same page as me.
I have no problem with the protocol of abstinence and what I've mentioned above, but only if there's that chemistry there. I've come out of a relationship that had a less than ideal ending and my motivations are not necessarily congruous with a nice girl's outlook. I'm here to have fun, pure and simple - I'm not in a place where I'm going to accept hassle. I'd love to meet the love of my life, to settle down tomorrow. But until that happens I'm not going to waste my time or anyone else's - let's just hang out and have imperfect fun together!
I've always been honest and up front with everyone I've been with. There was a girl who I went on about 5 dates with, only on the last did she come back to mine where we messed around a little but didn't have sex. She was pretty, fun, sweet and I wasn't jaded. We'd talk, get drunk, kiss and that was it. But I could tell in general and from things she said that she wanted more, and if we had sex it would be a bigger deal than normal - and I wasn't in that place. As much as I really wanted to fuck her, I wasn't going to take that trust/opportunity and be a dick with it. So it petered out by my hand, in a nice way, and we're still in contact.
Dating, sex, fuck buddies, friendships; I think we can negotiate all of these things by being respectful communicative adults. Be up front and honest with people and whilst it may be harder initially at times, in the long run everyone comes out happier and into a dynamic that is honestly arrived at.
Ok I'm not really sure what any of this is now getting at, there's no nugget of perceived unifying truth I'm building to here.
I should probably care less about the girls I date, be more of a selfish fuck, but I don't like anyone to be mistreated. Not unless they're into it of course, and then I'm happy to mistreat the hell out of them.
I have no idea of what I'll be telling you after my date tomorrow. I just hope whatever it is, it's entertaining.
Thanks for reading whoever you are, I appreciate your interest x
Wednesday, 16 March 2011
Tuesday, 15 March 2011
Fuck buddy #2
I first met Kylie in Proud Camden - I was helping run a monthly night we had on there, but mainly my job at this stage was to just generally be good vibes. An 'ambassador of fun' as my friend coined.
I was already pretty drunk that night, a good buddy at work was leaving so we'd spent a few hours in the pub. Happily for me I'm a good drunk, either through practice, physiology or mentality I'm not someone who changes personality, becomes belligerent, incoherent or any other unwanted Mr. Hyde type characteristics. I've had people say it took them 5 minutes or so of talking to me to realise that I was actually off my face.
Kylie was with a group of friends who I vaguely knew, she stood out instantly. She was a short girl, maybe 5'2" and cute, had dark blonde shoulder length hair, vivid blue eyes and bright red lipstick on her thick full mouth. She was really pretty. I got introduced and I felt uncomfortable; uncomfortable because I knew I wasn't looking my best. For starters I had a moustache. No it wasn't Movember where every man who lives in Clapham grows a moustache for charity. I had it because I was recently single and I currently didn't give a fuck. It made me look stupid and I found that funny and sure, any attention it got me wouldn't be shied away from. The flip side of course was that as already noted - it was probably not making me look at my most desirable. I also had a big ol' spot just below one end of my 'tache I was really self conscious of as I never get them. So I felt myself kind of wincing away from her as a result.
I was outside smoking, drinking and talking with people I knew and having general banter with those around I did not. I had a free tab that night so got a round of drinks for those with me and as the drinks got drained, one by one people left to go inside until it was just me a Kylie. It's generally a little bit hazy in my mind now, but the fact of the matter is that my tache and spot somehow didn't put her off me because we kissed. Things didn't progress that night, she went off to one house party and I to another.
We started swapping messages on facebook soon after, and I think after a few false starts we arranged to meet up for a drink. Things went well and we came to an unsaid arrangement whereby we'd meet up, have a good chat catching up for a good few hours as friends, drinks and fun vibes, before heading back to mine to fuck. A lot.
Maybe this is stupid to say because it's obvious, but in the same way that I still can't get entirely used to the fact, and am very pleased that good looking women seem to find my personality/looks attractive, I'm also incredibly thankful when it turns out that these good looking girls are sexually liberated too - it's like finding a tenner on the street, buying a scratchcard, pocketing the change but then winning on the scratchcard too (or a much better analogy of your choosing). Kylie loved to fuck, and she was great at what she enjoyed too.
I'm a very oral person, as you've probably gathered - I love giving head - but I also love kissing, I don't think it's a thing to do for the hell of it, a password to be uttered unlocking a greater treasure, it's a fucking hot thing in and of itself. I often wonder when I kiss girls who 'can't kiss' whether it's actually just a subjective thing. I mean just because I find sweetcorn offensive doesn't mean that it actually is, it's just not to my taste. Maybe these people with quick jabby tongues, or those who instantly start trying to lick my tonsils off have all been kissing each other: and loving it. Maybe they find my soft but firm sensual kissing to be unpleasant and I'm a bad kisser to them. But I will say that in my experience those girls who have been good in bed have also been the best kissers. Maybe they're more in touch with their bodies, empathetically knowing how their touch will feel on me and how to enjoy and embrace their own physical pleasure by whatever means too.
Kylie was a good kisser and loved to kiss too. I'd be laid back with her tight cunt wrapped round my cock, my hands would be clamped onto her hips, lifting her up, pushing and pulling her onto me as I fucked her hard from below, her hair would be disheveled sticking to the sweat on her face, heavy C cup breasts would be bouncing up and down as she moaned - then she'd pitch forwards lying on me, arching her back, her ass pushed up giving into being totally taken and pounded by me. Her mouth would latch onto mine frantically swirling her tongue into my mouth. My hands now gripping and slapping her tight ass, kissing her back our mouths locked, moaning into each others kisses - two people sweating, pounding, both lost in the abandonment of pleasure.
She was also the girl who introduced me to the g-spot. I kind of knew there was something going on there, but had never had the chance to practically embrace the workings of it. Kylie unashamedly talked to me and showed me what she liked (which is another turn on, a girl who tells me what she likes - it only makes things better for her, and I get more aroused turning her on. It's a win-win situation)
Fucking a girl with long elegant limbs is great, holding her long shapely legs up and together whilst looking at my cock plunge inside is a beautiful thing. But fucking a more petite girl offers it's own unique set of opportunities. I used to play sport competitively for years and I still exercise a lot — which means I'm able to enjoy some pretty athletic sexual endeavours.
Kylie was kinda submissive, not fully in terms of me actually dominating her - instead her submission manifested itself in a want for me to take control. We were a fair few months into fucking, when one time we went back to mine and I had the place to myself. We'd been kissing in the bar, it was dark and her hand had been stroking me to hardness in amongst everyone else there. In the cab back to mine she told me she was really wet, so I replied saying I wanted her to slip off her underwear and show me. She did as she was told and handed them to me. The sight of that stays with me, it was so arousing watching her hitch up her dress, hook her thumbs in her underwear and take them off there and then on demand for me.
As we walked up the stairs to my flat I made sure she was in front of me, my hand in between her legs, she wasn't lying, she was really wet, my finger slid between her lips to her clit making her buckle slightly. On the landing outside of my door we kissed passionately, both so turned on. I picked her up and with a thud pushed her up against my front door, my erection connecting with her making her gasp. My hands were on her bare ass cheeks, one hand slipping further under and making contact with her wet lips. She frantically undid my belt and trousers and pawed at my cock inside. With one hand holding her up I pushed the denim restrictions down, my cock springing up and hitting her. She grabbed it and as I lifted her up she guided me into her. The lights were on, anyone could have walked up the stairs to see what the noise was but this all had the effect of making it even more of a turn on - there was no subtlety or poise to this moment, it was just pure animal passion with me thrusting hard into her, her biting my shoulder and neck to stop from screaming. We only fucked like this for a few minutes before I put her down and opened my door.
We dropped our bags, tore off our clothes and came together in my front room standing there, hot naked flesh against hot naked flesh kissing. I scooped her up in my arms and twisting her round I placed her on her knees on my sofa, her forearms resting on the back and arm of a corner. I stood behind her, my feet wide apart so I was lower and sunk myself all the way into her. Kylie had a habit of playing with herself as we fucked (I love it when a girl does) and as I started to fuck I could see that she was again now, it meant I didn't have to think about anything beyond fucking her. We were so turned on, both of us talking absolute filth at each other, I was spanking her ass hard which only made her moan louder, talk dirtier. I got up onto the sofa with her, her tits filling my hands as I mumbled incoherent animal grunts in her ear. Fucking her harder still, I picked her up under her hips, holding her in the air relentlessly pounding her - pushing her on closer and closer to the orgasm she was yelling she was on the verge of. It was a humid night, sweat was dripping down me and everything was just pure sex.
Her breath was getting shorter, her moans more restrained, I could feel she was concentrating on cumming and this made me put her down and fuck harder. So hard in fact that as she came we broke our sofa, the back leg finally giving up under the barrage of sexual energy it was having to endure. I didn't stop, barely noticing it as about 20 seconds later with her pleading for me to cum inside her, I finally blew my load fully and deeply inside her still spasming cunt, gripping me as I collapsed onto her moaning like a dying man. I've still not fixed the sofa, and there's always a childish chortle whenever anyone asks me and my flatmates what happened.
We last met up mid way through last year. She'd been going out with a guy for a while and having recently broken up wanted to catch up. This was the first and last time I'd seen her in a while. It was nice to see her and we spent a few hours catching up again. Yes, we ended up back at mine and we had really good sex, I guess coming out of a relationship that went wrong, returning uncomplicated sex with me was a release for her. We barely slept that night, going through half a bottle of lube on each other. Her pussy lips were so swollen at one point they almost looked like they'd been stung - I had her lying on her back on top of me, her feet on the bed and spread as I pistoned in and out of her, one hand rolling her nipples in between my fingers, the other covered in lube frantically rubbing her clit till she came. I say this because it led to something which startled me and which I still revisit.
She wanted to make me cum, so squirting lube onto both hands she started to wank me, using both of her hands twisting up and down my cock, then one hand massaging my balls whilst the other just twisted gently round the tip of me. I like to kiss when I'm being played with like that so I told her to lie next to me and kiss me. I was starting to get close with her steady rhythm, and I asked her to talk dirty for me. She raised herself up on one elbow and making steady eye contact with me she said,
"I want you to imagine me here with another girl fucking you too. I'll be doing exactly this only there'll be another girl on the other side of you and she'll be kissing you. Her hand will be rubbing your balls while I stroke this big hard dick."
I was actually shocked. This was unprompted, we'd not discussed the scenario and she'd hit the nail bang on the head when all I was expecting was just a little generic dirty chat.
"I'll hold your dick in my hand and tell her to fuck you"
She mirrored her words by stopping and just holding the tip in her fingers.
"As I do, I'll sit this tight wet pussy on your face and have you lick me. You won't be able to see anything, you'll just taste me before you feel me guide this cock into her tight little cunt, feel her slide slowly down onto you"
As she said this her hands gripped my cock and slid it slowly down before starting to wank me fast again. I didn't last 30 seconds of this, my orgasm was so powerful I came so hard I actually hit my own face. Which made her laugh hysterically.
Kylie has a boyfriend again now and I didn't follow up too much after, wanting to leave her to her own devices after the break up. I never did get to find out whether she'd have gone through with this with me or whether she was just a very good talker.
I've been sat at my desk at work with a hard cock on and off for the past half hour. I need to fuck, but instead I'm going to a talk on Greek and Roman philosophy. Pretty sure it'll be a load of beardy guys, but here's hoping I'm sat next to a pretty brunette French Sorbonne graduate wearing thick rimmed glasses...
I was already pretty drunk that night, a good buddy at work was leaving so we'd spent a few hours in the pub. Happily for me I'm a good drunk, either through practice, physiology or mentality I'm not someone who changes personality, becomes belligerent, incoherent or any other unwanted Mr. Hyde type characteristics. I've had people say it took them 5 minutes or so of talking to me to realise that I was actually off my face.
Kylie was with a group of friends who I vaguely knew, she stood out instantly. She was a short girl, maybe 5'2" and cute, had dark blonde shoulder length hair, vivid blue eyes and bright red lipstick on her thick full mouth. She was really pretty. I got introduced and I felt uncomfortable; uncomfortable because I knew I wasn't looking my best. For starters I had a moustache. No it wasn't Movember where every man who lives in Clapham grows a moustache for charity. I had it because I was recently single and I currently didn't give a fuck. It made me look stupid and I found that funny and sure, any attention it got me wouldn't be shied away from. The flip side of course was that as already noted - it was probably not making me look at my most desirable. I also had a big ol' spot just below one end of my 'tache I was really self conscious of as I never get them. So I felt myself kind of wincing away from her as a result.
I was outside smoking, drinking and talking with people I knew and having general banter with those around I did not. I had a free tab that night so got a round of drinks for those with me and as the drinks got drained, one by one people left to go inside until it was just me a Kylie. It's generally a little bit hazy in my mind now, but the fact of the matter is that my tache and spot somehow didn't put her off me because we kissed. Things didn't progress that night, she went off to one house party and I to another.
We started swapping messages on facebook soon after, and I think after a few false starts we arranged to meet up for a drink. Things went well and we came to an unsaid arrangement whereby we'd meet up, have a good chat catching up for a good few hours as friends, drinks and fun vibes, before heading back to mine to fuck. A lot.
Maybe this is stupid to say because it's obvious, but in the same way that I still can't get entirely used to the fact, and am very pleased that good looking women seem to find my personality/looks attractive, I'm also incredibly thankful when it turns out that these good looking girls are sexually liberated too - it's like finding a tenner on the street, buying a scratchcard, pocketing the change but then winning on the scratchcard too (or a much better analogy of your choosing). Kylie loved to fuck, and she was great at what she enjoyed too.
I'm a very oral person, as you've probably gathered - I love giving head - but I also love kissing, I don't think it's a thing to do for the hell of it, a password to be uttered unlocking a greater treasure, it's a fucking hot thing in and of itself. I often wonder when I kiss girls who 'can't kiss' whether it's actually just a subjective thing. I mean just because I find sweetcorn offensive doesn't mean that it actually is, it's just not to my taste. Maybe these people with quick jabby tongues, or those who instantly start trying to lick my tonsils off have all been kissing each other: and loving it. Maybe they find my soft but firm sensual kissing to be unpleasant and I'm a bad kisser to them. But I will say that in my experience those girls who have been good in bed have also been the best kissers. Maybe they're more in touch with their bodies, empathetically knowing how their touch will feel on me and how to enjoy and embrace their own physical pleasure by whatever means too.
Kylie was a good kisser and loved to kiss too. I'd be laid back with her tight cunt wrapped round my cock, my hands would be clamped onto her hips, lifting her up, pushing and pulling her onto me as I fucked her hard from below, her hair would be disheveled sticking to the sweat on her face, heavy C cup breasts would be bouncing up and down as she moaned - then she'd pitch forwards lying on me, arching her back, her ass pushed up giving into being totally taken and pounded by me. Her mouth would latch onto mine frantically swirling her tongue into my mouth. My hands now gripping and slapping her tight ass, kissing her back our mouths locked, moaning into each others kisses - two people sweating, pounding, both lost in the abandonment of pleasure.
She was also the girl who introduced me to the g-spot. I kind of knew there was something going on there, but had never had the chance to practically embrace the workings of it. Kylie unashamedly talked to me and showed me what she liked (which is another turn on, a girl who tells me what she likes - it only makes things better for her, and I get more aroused turning her on. It's a win-win situation)
Fucking a girl with long elegant limbs is great, holding her long shapely legs up and together whilst looking at my cock plunge inside is a beautiful thing. But fucking a more petite girl offers it's own unique set of opportunities. I used to play sport competitively for years and I still exercise a lot — which means I'm able to enjoy some pretty athletic sexual endeavours.
Kylie was kinda submissive, not fully in terms of me actually dominating her - instead her submission manifested itself in a want for me to take control. We were a fair few months into fucking, when one time we went back to mine and I had the place to myself. We'd been kissing in the bar, it was dark and her hand had been stroking me to hardness in amongst everyone else there. In the cab back to mine she told me she was really wet, so I replied saying I wanted her to slip off her underwear and show me. She did as she was told and handed them to me. The sight of that stays with me, it was so arousing watching her hitch up her dress, hook her thumbs in her underwear and take them off there and then on demand for me.
As we walked up the stairs to my flat I made sure she was in front of me, my hand in between her legs, she wasn't lying, she was really wet, my finger slid between her lips to her clit making her buckle slightly. On the landing outside of my door we kissed passionately, both so turned on. I picked her up and with a thud pushed her up against my front door, my erection connecting with her making her gasp. My hands were on her bare ass cheeks, one hand slipping further under and making contact with her wet lips. She frantically undid my belt and trousers and pawed at my cock inside. With one hand holding her up I pushed the denim restrictions down, my cock springing up and hitting her. She grabbed it and as I lifted her up she guided me into her. The lights were on, anyone could have walked up the stairs to see what the noise was but this all had the effect of making it even more of a turn on - there was no subtlety or poise to this moment, it was just pure animal passion with me thrusting hard into her, her biting my shoulder and neck to stop from screaming. We only fucked like this for a few minutes before I put her down and opened my door.
We dropped our bags, tore off our clothes and came together in my front room standing there, hot naked flesh against hot naked flesh kissing. I scooped her up in my arms and twisting her round I placed her on her knees on my sofa, her forearms resting on the back and arm of a corner. I stood behind her, my feet wide apart so I was lower and sunk myself all the way into her. Kylie had a habit of playing with herself as we fucked (I love it when a girl does) and as I started to fuck I could see that she was again now, it meant I didn't have to think about anything beyond fucking her. We were so turned on, both of us talking absolute filth at each other, I was spanking her ass hard which only made her moan louder, talk dirtier. I got up onto the sofa with her, her tits filling my hands as I mumbled incoherent animal grunts in her ear. Fucking her harder still, I picked her up under her hips, holding her in the air relentlessly pounding her - pushing her on closer and closer to the orgasm she was yelling she was on the verge of. It was a humid night, sweat was dripping down me and everything was just pure sex.
Her breath was getting shorter, her moans more restrained, I could feel she was concentrating on cumming and this made me put her down and fuck harder. So hard in fact that as she came we broke our sofa, the back leg finally giving up under the barrage of sexual energy it was having to endure. I didn't stop, barely noticing it as about 20 seconds later with her pleading for me to cum inside her, I finally blew my load fully and deeply inside her still spasming cunt, gripping me as I collapsed onto her moaning like a dying man. I've still not fixed the sofa, and there's always a childish chortle whenever anyone asks me and my flatmates what happened.
We last met up mid way through last year. She'd been going out with a guy for a while and having recently broken up wanted to catch up. This was the first and last time I'd seen her in a while. It was nice to see her and we spent a few hours catching up again. Yes, we ended up back at mine and we had really good sex, I guess coming out of a relationship that went wrong, returning uncomplicated sex with me was a release for her. We barely slept that night, going through half a bottle of lube on each other. Her pussy lips were so swollen at one point they almost looked like they'd been stung - I had her lying on her back on top of me, her feet on the bed and spread as I pistoned in and out of her, one hand rolling her nipples in between my fingers, the other covered in lube frantically rubbing her clit till she came. I say this because it led to something which startled me and which I still revisit.
She wanted to make me cum, so squirting lube onto both hands she started to wank me, using both of her hands twisting up and down my cock, then one hand massaging my balls whilst the other just twisted gently round the tip of me. I like to kiss when I'm being played with like that so I told her to lie next to me and kiss me. I was starting to get close with her steady rhythm, and I asked her to talk dirty for me. She raised herself up on one elbow and making steady eye contact with me she said,
"I want you to imagine me here with another girl fucking you too. I'll be doing exactly this only there'll be another girl on the other side of you and she'll be kissing you. Her hand will be rubbing your balls while I stroke this big hard dick."
I was actually shocked. This was unprompted, we'd not discussed the scenario and she'd hit the nail bang on the head when all I was expecting was just a little generic dirty chat.
"I'll hold your dick in my hand and tell her to fuck you"
She mirrored her words by stopping and just holding the tip in her fingers.
"As I do, I'll sit this tight wet pussy on your face and have you lick me. You won't be able to see anything, you'll just taste me before you feel me guide this cock into her tight little cunt, feel her slide slowly down onto you"
As she said this her hands gripped my cock and slid it slowly down before starting to wank me fast again. I didn't last 30 seconds of this, my orgasm was so powerful I came so hard I actually hit my own face. Which made her laugh hysterically.
Kylie has a boyfriend again now and I didn't follow up too much after, wanting to leave her to her own devices after the break up. I never did get to find out whether she'd have gone through with this with me or whether she was just a very good talker.
I've been sat at my desk at work with a hard cock on and off for the past half hour. I need to fuck, but instead I'm going to a talk on Greek and Roman philosophy. Pretty sure it'll be a load of beardy guys, but here's hoping I'm sat next to a pretty brunette French Sorbonne graduate wearing thick rimmed glasses...
Self abuse.
EDIT: This post I wrote about two weeks ago. I was drunk, feeling shitty and it hurt to write, to relive and dwell upon. I'm leaving it as is, not the funnest of posts, but I want you to tell you about what happened.
"Self abuse. I'm not talking about this in the emo way, and as much as I'm a fan of repeated bouts of onanism I don't mean that either. I mean I've been torturing myself by keeping up to date with what K is up to on facebook/twitter. Torturing myself by imagining everything that she's been up to, dragging my own ego through the shit.
To those of you who are new, I've been getting over a girl called K. I've been a hell of a lot better since mid Jan when this all kicked off but then Valentines weekend kinda threw me back a little. I knew she was sharing it, probably loved up with another man. I've been lacking closure on the whole thing. And I need it. I need it to move on. I'm a thinker and I can't escape my own imagination, the tortuous side that's there in all of us. But there's a reason for this.
K cheated on me, she cheated on me a few times. Particularly with one guy, a minor celeb who she is now going out with. This kills me. Why? Because she was clearly weighing the two of us up and I lost. She deemed him the better man. I suppose she succumbed to the celebrity friends, the huge fucking ego of this guy, the status, the destructive energy. I know that with this guy she had a fresh start to make a go of an unhindered partnership - the lack of trust was an issue for me/us. The fact that she'd still be in contact with him was an issue. This isn't just sour grapes, if we'd have drifted apart, if she'd made it clear what the deal was I'd have adjusted to it. But that isn't what happened.
I last saw K in mid December before I went away, and during that time we spoke every day connecting again as we hadn't for weeks. I was in South America, she was away in America but we both felt like actually maybe things could work out. She said every other day that she loved me, how much I meant to her, around Xmas she was saying how she'd never honestly thought about being able to settle down with someone until me, how I got her. She hinted that she'd even said as much to her parents at a time.
Before leaving I'd asked her to make me a mix tape, as we'd made each other a few over the months. She turned up on that last night in December with two cd's, about 40 tracks. Some of it I'd not heard before, really good stuff I instantly liked. Most of them were themed about not wanting to lose a love, music as a plea, a lament - you can imagine. These I read into; the music with the things she wrote every day, brainwashing me into believing, trusting her words as warm welcoming hands reaching out to me, and subsequently caring for her again. I was really looking forward to see her when I got back. We both were.
She went out of her way to make me care.
But I knew what would happen. She'd come back to London after Xmas, see this guy who had told her before Xmas that he really cared for her, wanted to go out with her, and he'd charm her. They'd fuck, they'd get wasted, she'd forget about me. I knew this but didn't want to admit it. I didn't realise how this would play out for me in reality.
Upon my return, she blanked me. K ignored my texts for days. We arranged to meet, then she'd cancel. Then she'd suggest another day, only to ignore my texts and cancel on the day. After this I stopped trying to be a friend, to meet up as we'd talked about. My heart hurting, but my pride, my head - telling me to take the hint and ignore the weeks of words before, to pay heed to the actions now.
So that's where I am. My heart has been left hanging, twisting in a wind of fickle feeling and confusion.
I can't stop myself from looking at this guys twitter either, I see the pictures of him at her place. I see the pictures of him in my place - and it fucking hurts."
EDIT: Hello, up to date me again...
So as you can see, K did a real number on me.
I'm a shit tonne better now, I've managed to get myself out of the mentality where she's in a space in my head that's special, but I still can't believe someone could have been so fickle. And to some extent so cowardly and cruel, but she had her reasons, and she has her issues. All of which go towards me realising as much as I must have given her some cause to do what she's done, ultimately she's just about her, not the girl I thought she was. It wasn't right, it was a 'lucky escape' and I shouldn't give any time or energy to imagining what she does now.
All of this I know, but the hands of time still have some ticking to do until I'm back to me again. She's moved to a place which is right round the corner from my work (We discussed it when I was away, her words were "Lunchtime fuck is on!") and she's asked to meet up a few times. I've declined as I know what would happen. I've not moved on yet enough to see her and for it to not be painful and counter productive.
I'll leave it there.
Thanks for indulging me x
"Self abuse. I'm not talking about this in the emo way, and as much as I'm a fan of repeated bouts of onanism I don't mean that either. I mean I've been torturing myself by keeping up to date with what K is up to on facebook/twitter. Torturing myself by imagining everything that she's been up to, dragging my own ego through the shit.
To those of you who are new, I've been getting over a girl called K. I've been a hell of a lot better since mid Jan when this all kicked off but then Valentines weekend kinda threw me back a little. I knew she was sharing it, probably loved up with another man. I've been lacking closure on the whole thing. And I need it. I need it to move on. I'm a thinker and I can't escape my own imagination, the tortuous side that's there in all of us. But there's a reason for this.
K cheated on me, she cheated on me a few times. Particularly with one guy, a minor celeb who she is now going out with. This kills me. Why? Because she was clearly weighing the two of us up and I lost. She deemed him the better man. I suppose she succumbed to the celebrity friends, the huge fucking ego of this guy, the status, the destructive energy. I know that with this guy she had a fresh start to make a go of an unhindered partnership - the lack of trust was an issue for me/us. The fact that she'd still be in contact with him was an issue. This isn't just sour grapes, if we'd have drifted apart, if she'd made it clear what the deal was I'd have adjusted to it. But that isn't what happened.
I last saw K in mid December before I went away, and during that time we spoke every day connecting again as we hadn't for weeks. I was in South America, she was away in America but we both felt like actually maybe things could work out. She said every other day that she loved me, how much I meant to her, around Xmas she was saying how she'd never honestly thought about being able to settle down with someone until me, how I got her. She hinted that she'd even said as much to her parents at a time.
Before leaving I'd asked her to make me a mix tape, as we'd made each other a few over the months. She turned up on that last night in December with two cd's, about 40 tracks. Some of it I'd not heard before, really good stuff I instantly liked. Most of them were themed about not wanting to lose a love, music as a plea, a lament - you can imagine. These I read into; the music with the things she wrote every day, brainwashing me into believing, trusting her words as warm welcoming hands reaching out to me, and subsequently caring for her again. I was really looking forward to see her when I got back. We both were.
She went out of her way to make me care.
But I knew what would happen. She'd come back to London after Xmas, see this guy who had told her before Xmas that he really cared for her, wanted to go out with her, and he'd charm her. They'd fuck, they'd get wasted, she'd forget about me. I knew this but didn't want to admit it. I didn't realise how this would play out for me in reality.
Upon my return, she blanked me. K ignored my texts for days. We arranged to meet, then she'd cancel. Then she'd suggest another day, only to ignore my texts and cancel on the day. After this I stopped trying to be a friend, to meet up as we'd talked about. My heart hurting, but my pride, my head - telling me to take the hint and ignore the weeks of words before, to pay heed to the actions now.
So that's where I am. My heart has been left hanging, twisting in a wind of fickle feeling and confusion.
I can't stop myself from looking at this guys twitter either, I see the pictures of him at her place. I see the pictures of him in my place - and it fucking hurts."
EDIT: Hello, up to date me again...
So as you can see, K did a real number on me.
I'm a shit tonne better now, I've managed to get myself out of the mentality where she's in a space in my head that's special, but I still can't believe someone could have been so fickle. And to some extent so cowardly and cruel, but she had her reasons, and she has her issues. All of which go towards me realising as much as I must have given her some cause to do what she's done, ultimately she's just about her, not the girl I thought she was. It wasn't right, it was a 'lucky escape' and I shouldn't give any time or energy to imagining what she does now.
All of this I know, but the hands of time still have some ticking to do until I'm back to me again. She's moved to a place which is right round the corner from my work (We discussed it when I was away, her words were "Lunchtime fuck is on!") and she's asked to meet up a few times. I've declined as I know what would happen. I've not moved on yet enough to see her and for it to not be painful and counter productive.
I'll leave it there.
Thanks for indulging me x
Sunday, 13 March 2011
Ze German
Let's rewind to 2007...
In the space of a few months I went from being on the verge of spending over half a million on a beautiful Edwardian house, to moving into a council house room I found on gumtree.
This was because I chose to break up with my girlfriend of ten years.
In short I guess we met too young, I wasn't ready to settle down. I hadn't lived. I hadn't lived selfishly without the safety net of the love we had. I was working too much, playing music too much, playing sport too much, going out too much; basically she was no longer my priority and I didn't like who that was making us. Sex had gone out the window. We both deserved more.
So I moved out and took the flat because it was dirt cheap, close to work, and not the sofa of any of my friends. I lived there for about two months I think. Three bedrooms, 5 or 6 flatmates in that time. Foreigners and reclusive types, we were polite strangers whenever our paths crossed, which with my social life at the time was rare. My small shitty room was just a place to lay my head.
From here I moved into the top floor of a building in Shoreditch. I had a king size mattress on the floor, my guitars, an expensive music system, and beyond basic furniture, that was it. I was paying about £350 a month to live in amongst it all, access to a roof, parties, music and good friends with me too. I was there for about 8 months and my possessions didn't increase, I was not building a life here. My old life was in the flat I still own with my ex. My books, my photographs, art and trinkets picked up from travels, records and 'stuff' would sit looking on; watching my ex as she cried, as she healed, as she no took random men back to fuck on the bed I bought, they sat like mute sentinels there bearing witness to the development of the new love she has now happily found.
My new place was a backdrop for experience and hedonism, it was not a home as such. Everyone would end up back at mine. From the weekly occasions of camaraderie between close friends late into the next day, the times with party buddies, those I'd see only at night, brought together by our mutual friends, to the nights where I couldn't tell you 50% of the rooms first names but all of whom I'd by the end of the night have shared lines, stories and if I was lucky affections. Music would be played all hours at a volume which if I had neighbours would cause constant complaints, things were broken, beer sprayed everywhere, new couplings loudly consummated in the toilet meaning the rest of us would have to go to use the pub that was downstairs for relief.
I'd wake some mornings, the daylight slowly seeping into my brain along with the bleak realisation that it was only Thursday morning and I had two days of work still to go. Broken glass and cigarettes littering the floor, empty wraps of cocaine scattered around like confetti - my room like the set of Skins, only my parents weren't there to clean up after me. I knew I'd move out, as well as on, from this period - but during this time surrounded by good friends, associates, glamorous strangers and characters you'd not believe if I described them here, I had some of the best times of my life.
Heidi worked in a bar nearby which we used to go to all the time. We owned it. As well as this, she was a part time model. A statuesque 6'2", long sandy gold hair, C cup breasts and a body that I've not encountered since. Everything about her figure was beautiful, not just 'hot' but aesthetically the way you'd describe the archetype of a non-anorexic model, slim toned limbs and a grace of movement that was hypnotic. She had green eyes, naturally tanned flawless skin with a dusting of freckles on her nose. Initially I remember not warming to her, unfairly imagining she was arrogant, that she came across as haughty or something. But this was entirely my issue, Heidi was lovely. I suppose I misread the reactions of a person trying to shrink away from just being regarded as a tall beautiful woman.
We were often in the same places, and she was good friends with my flatmate who also worked in a bar. One night Heidi was staying in my flatmates room whilst she was away. A bunch of us were hanging out, drinking into the small hours and then come the end of the night it was just me, Heidi and my flatmates brother who was in town. I thought there was something going on between them maybe, so I said goodnight and returned to my room.
5 minutes later I got a text from Heidi saying "Hi". I replied "Hi yourself". She sent another "What you doing?" So I sent "Waiting for you to bring some booze here?"
I just thought she was still wired, so we should have a drink or something. She came into my room with a bottle of whisky and two glasses and we sat up, lying on my bed drinking and talking. At no stage did I think anything was on the cards. When we were lying there, laughing, close, looking into each others eyes and I still wasn't making any moves - partly because I was really drunk by now so oblivious to any signs, but mainly because here was this really beautiful girl and I'd fancied her for ages. I'd never contemplated the fact that she'd ever be interested in me. So when she moved forwards and kissed me I literally couldn't believe what was going on. I remember kissing her back with my eyes wide open, probably with a look of confusion on my face as I came to terms with what was somehow happening.
After being in a relationship for ten years, you don't have a gauge for how attractive you are because you're not having it objectively impressed on you by the sort of girls you're able to attract. By the end of my relationship my ex and I weren't having sex, I was keen, but she was not. We got into a vicious cycle where she felt pressure to have sex which killed the moment, and I got more and more frustrated. We'd go to bed and it would be the elephant in the room. Both of us thinking about it, but saying nothing. I felt rejected, frustrated, emasculated and not attractive. In this time I didn't cheat on her but it was a big factor to us splitting up, I couldn't carry on like this. I didn't want to be a guy who was having an affair behind her back, I didn't want to do that to her or to me.
As a newly single man with no real reference point I would take whatever I could to begin with, flattered by any female attention. So when me and Heidi arranged to go for a drink, I was still scratching my head about what the hell was going on. We met in Dalston for a drink, and it was a little awkward. Though we got on, it took us a few drinks to warm up. Which turned out to be the case most times we met up. So things weren't developing so much on that front, we weren't soul mates - but still we kept arranging drinks. Why?
Because we loved fucking each other. Heidi was my first fuck buddy, and man did I have a smile on my face about it. The first time we fucked was back at hers. We were drunk, and now totally relaxed and into the flow of getting on. As I chopped up a few lines on the kitchen surface of her studio, I teased her about modelling. I asked her if she had any pictures or anything, and after nagging her she reticently pulled out a copy of Glamour, opened it and handed it to me.....and there she was: just her, no one else in the shot, and it was a Paul Smith ad. My pupils dilated, my heart started to race and my mouth went dry. The line I had cut lay untouched, it's work was being done by another stimulant it seemed: I was going to have sex with a legit model! ME!! Hahaha....
I rolled up a twenty pound note, snorted half a line into my left nostril, then half a line into my right, the cocaine latching on with a pleasing chemical bite into my sinuses. I offered the rolled up note to Heidi who bent over and took the line in one nostril, thanked me and putting her arms round my shoulders kissed me. To this day she has been one of the best kissers I've had the pleasure of (K and Blondie are ahead of her), her lips come alive when she kissed, their size belying how soft and full they felt.
We melted into each other, kissing deeper with our hands pulling each other into ourselves. I led her by her hand to the bed and pulled her down next to me kissing her, my hand in her hair, stroking her face as hers made it's way down over my chest, lifting up my t shirt and softly stroking my stomach and the muscles that form a line into the waistband of my underwear. My hand is stroking down from her neck and coming to a rest on her tits, her hand now cupping me over my jeans. Our kissing has become more physical, more animal as the lust rises in us both. I break away and rip my t shirt over my head and we both tear each others clothes off. She's wearing simple black underwear and she is uncomplicatedly beautiful, wearing little make up other than smokey eye shadow and liner.
I get on top of her in between her legs and kiss her slowly again now. As I do I press myself onto her, resting my weight on her clit through the underside of my cock. I reach round to undo her bra but find no clasp. She laughs and pushes me off and then straddles me.
"Here, let me show you"
She unfastened the clasp at the front of her bra (ahhhh...) and smiling at me reveals her perfect breasts, topped with unexpectedly dark nipples, each the size of a 50p piece. Like a knee jerk reflex I sit upright in response, kissing her, down her neck and then take each nipple softly in my mouth as though it were a rare delicacy to be savoured (which to be fair, they were). She grinds herself on my dick and she groans as my hands knead her breasts. She pushes me back (she was always an active participant, I liked it) and kissed me, holding my hands and pinning them to the bed. She kissed her way down my chest, sucking and flicking her tongue over my nipples, kissed further down and then was knelt upright between my open legs. Her hands began to stroke my cock through my underwear, massaging my balls and raking her nails up and down my shaft making me squirm before pulling my shorts down. She smiled at me with her eyes, a wry knowing smile crept onto her beautiful face as she gripped my cock and dipped her head, engulfing me in her soft warm mouth. Heidi wasn't the best head I've had, but she was good. And what was good about it was that she took her time, she made it really sexy, slowly sliding my cock all the way into her mouth then pulling back and flicking her tongue round the head slowly so I could feel everything. There's a time and a place for fast frenetic head, but to begin with I love the theatrics and control of it when it's so slow and attentive. She holds my eyes as she licks up and down my shaft before starting to lick my balls and wanking me, settling into a steady rhythm.
I was in fucking heaven. And my moans were letting her know it. I could have laid there for hours (actually no, not hours - as much as I don't cum easily, being so well handled by a fucking hot girl would be testing me somewhat), but the gentleman and avid lover of pussy in me meant that it was her turn to lie back. So I pulled her up and told her to lie back. My hand went straight in between her legs, I could feel how wet she was through her panties. I kissed her neck softly as I lightly stroked up and down her pussy with my fingers. I kissed her ear and quietly told her how beautiful I thought she was, how hard she made me, how I was going to take my time going down on her, but that all the time I was I'd be thinking about sinking my hard cock into her for the first time.
A little bit forward for the first time I know, but we'd known each other for a while and I was really turned on. In any case Heidi kind of gasped a little and turned to kiss me really hard so I guess she was into it.
I kissed my way down her long torso, over her taut stomach and trailed my tongue from her navel directly down over her pubic bone to finish licking the fine mesh of her panties covering her. Ordinarily I'd maybe spend more time, but I have to admit I couldn't stop myself from gripping the waistband of her knickers with my teeth (I was still a little wet behind the ears and the teeth thing seemed like a 'sexy' thing at the time) and hooking my fingers under the sides to pull them down and over her long legs. She was recently waxed into just a slim strip of pubic hair, her pussy lips were swollen and glistening from her need in the soft low light. With a flat broad tongue I slowly licked her up and down, loving the wet feeling of her on my tongue. I reached my hands under and over her thighs and with my fingers pulling the skin round her pubic hair exposed her swollen little clit. With the wet pointed tip of my tongue I gently circled it, kissing and sucking her clit into my mouth and licking it firmly, Heidi raised her hips in time with me. Grinding her pussy into my face, my tongue sunk as far as I could inside her whilst two fingers reached over and rubbed her clit. She was moaning now with her eyes closed, heavy breathing and her hands pulling my head into her. I went back to concentrating on her clit and slid my middle finger inside her, she felt really smooth as I slowly fucked her with my finger.
"Put your cock in me. Please, I need you to fuck me"
My thoughts exactly. I got up and bent down to get a condom out of my wallet, I stood up and turned around to see her on all fours, rubbing her clit between her legs, looking back at me smiling dirtily. Looking down to my cock she said,
"I want you to fuck me from behind"
As I tore at the condom packet, my pulse raced making my cock throb and bob up and down. Her eyes were fixed on me, still playing with herself as I pulled the condom on. Getting up on the bed behind her I told her to reach round and spread herself for me which she didn't hesitate in doing. I guided just the tip of my cock into her, then holding her slim hips I slid myself slowly all the way into her making her involuntarily exclaim. Pulling all the way back out I thrust my hips forward hard and with a slap entered her fully again. I started to fuck. Slowly building up in speed I began really pounding her. This was an unceremonious first time and it was what we both wanted, we both just wanted my cock fucking her.
My hands reached forwards to grab her swinging tits as I continued fucking her hard. As my balls slapped against her I could feel that she was rubbing her clit, her face flat on one side against the bed, moaning and breathing hard, mumbling my name as I pounded her relentlessly, a sheen of sweat building on me from the exertions.
That night it continued in this way, me flipping her over onto her back pushing her legs up to her chest and fucking her really deeply, her riding me with a loud slapping as our thrusts met in time, her clit being hammered each time pushing her closer to orgasm. I remember how beautiful she looked riding me, her messed up hair tumbling over her shoulders onto her pert breasts, her fringe obscuring her eyes, her mouth parted with flushed lips as she panted and moaned as she rode me.
We stayed up till about 4 in the morning doing bumps, drinking, smoking and fucking all night. We fell asleep, a sweaty exhausted mess, me spooning her and stroking her hair as her breathing slowed. I kissed her back as my hand softly stroked affectionately all over her body till she fell asleep. I've always been affectionate, I'm not someone who will roll over and leave a girl to lie awake in the wet patch to listen to my snores, minutes after I've cum, I like to cuddle. As gay as that sounds.
We continued with this arrangement, meeting up whenever the mood took us for getting on for a year. I've not seen her for quite a while now, we arranged to catch up before Xmas but one thing or other got in the way and we cancelled.
Hmmm - I think I should maybe text her hello.
In the space of a few months I went from being on the verge of spending over half a million on a beautiful Edwardian house, to moving into a council house room I found on gumtree.
This was because I chose to break up with my girlfriend of ten years.
In short I guess we met too young, I wasn't ready to settle down. I hadn't lived. I hadn't lived selfishly without the safety net of the love we had. I was working too much, playing music too much, playing sport too much, going out too much; basically she was no longer my priority and I didn't like who that was making us. Sex had gone out the window. We both deserved more.
So I moved out and took the flat because it was dirt cheap, close to work, and not the sofa of any of my friends. I lived there for about two months I think. Three bedrooms, 5 or 6 flatmates in that time. Foreigners and reclusive types, we were polite strangers whenever our paths crossed, which with my social life at the time was rare. My small shitty room was just a place to lay my head.
From here I moved into the top floor of a building in Shoreditch. I had a king size mattress on the floor, my guitars, an expensive music system, and beyond basic furniture, that was it. I was paying about £350 a month to live in amongst it all, access to a roof, parties, music and good friends with me too. I was there for about 8 months and my possessions didn't increase, I was not building a life here. My old life was in the flat I still own with my ex. My books, my photographs, art and trinkets picked up from travels, records and 'stuff' would sit looking on; watching my ex as she cried, as she healed, as she no took random men back to fuck on the bed I bought, they sat like mute sentinels there bearing witness to the development of the new love she has now happily found.
My new place was a backdrop for experience and hedonism, it was not a home as such. Everyone would end up back at mine. From the weekly occasions of camaraderie between close friends late into the next day, the times with party buddies, those I'd see only at night, brought together by our mutual friends, to the nights where I couldn't tell you 50% of the rooms first names but all of whom I'd by the end of the night have shared lines, stories and if I was lucky affections. Music would be played all hours at a volume which if I had neighbours would cause constant complaints, things were broken, beer sprayed everywhere, new couplings loudly consummated in the toilet meaning the rest of us would have to go to use the pub that was downstairs for relief.
I'd wake some mornings, the daylight slowly seeping into my brain along with the bleak realisation that it was only Thursday morning and I had two days of work still to go. Broken glass and cigarettes littering the floor, empty wraps of cocaine scattered around like confetti - my room like the set of Skins, only my parents weren't there to clean up after me. I knew I'd move out, as well as on, from this period - but during this time surrounded by good friends, associates, glamorous strangers and characters you'd not believe if I described them here, I had some of the best times of my life.
Heidi worked in a bar nearby which we used to go to all the time. We owned it. As well as this, she was a part time model. A statuesque 6'2", long sandy gold hair, C cup breasts and a body that I've not encountered since. Everything about her figure was beautiful, not just 'hot' but aesthetically the way you'd describe the archetype of a non-anorexic model, slim toned limbs and a grace of movement that was hypnotic. She had green eyes, naturally tanned flawless skin with a dusting of freckles on her nose. Initially I remember not warming to her, unfairly imagining she was arrogant, that she came across as haughty or something. But this was entirely my issue, Heidi was lovely. I suppose I misread the reactions of a person trying to shrink away from just being regarded as a tall beautiful woman.
We were often in the same places, and she was good friends with my flatmate who also worked in a bar. One night Heidi was staying in my flatmates room whilst she was away. A bunch of us were hanging out, drinking into the small hours and then come the end of the night it was just me, Heidi and my flatmates brother who was in town. I thought there was something going on between them maybe, so I said goodnight and returned to my room.
5 minutes later I got a text from Heidi saying "Hi". I replied "Hi yourself". She sent another "What you doing?" So I sent "Waiting for you to bring some booze here?"
I just thought she was still wired, so we should have a drink or something. She came into my room with a bottle of whisky and two glasses and we sat up, lying on my bed drinking and talking. At no stage did I think anything was on the cards. When we were lying there, laughing, close, looking into each others eyes and I still wasn't making any moves - partly because I was really drunk by now so oblivious to any signs, but mainly because here was this really beautiful girl and I'd fancied her for ages. I'd never contemplated the fact that she'd ever be interested in me. So when she moved forwards and kissed me I literally couldn't believe what was going on. I remember kissing her back with my eyes wide open, probably with a look of confusion on my face as I came to terms with what was somehow happening.
After being in a relationship for ten years, you don't have a gauge for how attractive you are because you're not having it objectively impressed on you by the sort of girls you're able to attract. By the end of my relationship my ex and I weren't having sex, I was keen, but she was not. We got into a vicious cycle where she felt pressure to have sex which killed the moment, and I got more and more frustrated. We'd go to bed and it would be the elephant in the room. Both of us thinking about it, but saying nothing. I felt rejected, frustrated, emasculated and not attractive. In this time I didn't cheat on her but it was a big factor to us splitting up, I couldn't carry on like this. I didn't want to be a guy who was having an affair behind her back, I didn't want to do that to her or to me.
As a newly single man with no real reference point I would take whatever I could to begin with, flattered by any female attention. So when me and Heidi arranged to go for a drink, I was still scratching my head about what the hell was going on. We met in Dalston for a drink, and it was a little awkward. Though we got on, it took us a few drinks to warm up. Which turned out to be the case most times we met up. So things weren't developing so much on that front, we weren't soul mates - but still we kept arranging drinks. Why?
Because we loved fucking each other. Heidi was my first fuck buddy, and man did I have a smile on my face about it. The first time we fucked was back at hers. We were drunk, and now totally relaxed and into the flow of getting on. As I chopped up a few lines on the kitchen surface of her studio, I teased her about modelling. I asked her if she had any pictures or anything, and after nagging her she reticently pulled out a copy of Glamour, opened it and handed it to me.....and there she was: just her, no one else in the shot, and it was a Paul Smith ad. My pupils dilated, my heart started to race and my mouth went dry. The line I had cut lay untouched, it's work was being done by another stimulant it seemed: I was going to have sex with a legit model! ME!! Hahaha....
I rolled up a twenty pound note, snorted half a line into my left nostril, then half a line into my right, the cocaine latching on with a pleasing chemical bite into my sinuses. I offered the rolled up note to Heidi who bent over and took the line in one nostril, thanked me and putting her arms round my shoulders kissed me. To this day she has been one of the best kissers I've had the pleasure of (K and Blondie are ahead of her), her lips come alive when she kissed, their size belying how soft and full they felt.
We melted into each other, kissing deeper with our hands pulling each other into ourselves. I led her by her hand to the bed and pulled her down next to me kissing her, my hand in her hair, stroking her face as hers made it's way down over my chest, lifting up my t shirt and softly stroking my stomach and the muscles that form a line into the waistband of my underwear. My hand is stroking down from her neck and coming to a rest on her tits, her hand now cupping me over my jeans. Our kissing has become more physical, more animal as the lust rises in us both. I break away and rip my t shirt over my head and we both tear each others clothes off. She's wearing simple black underwear and she is uncomplicatedly beautiful, wearing little make up other than smokey eye shadow and liner.
I get on top of her in between her legs and kiss her slowly again now. As I do I press myself onto her, resting my weight on her clit through the underside of my cock. I reach round to undo her bra but find no clasp. She laughs and pushes me off and then straddles me.
"Here, let me show you"
She unfastened the clasp at the front of her bra (ahhhh...) and smiling at me reveals her perfect breasts, topped with unexpectedly dark nipples, each the size of a 50p piece. Like a knee jerk reflex I sit upright in response, kissing her, down her neck and then take each nipple softly in my mouth as though it were a rare delicacy to be savoured (which to be fair, they were). She grinds herself on my dick and she groans as my hands knead her breasts. She pushes me back (she was always an active participant, I liked it) and kissed me, holding my hands and pinning them to the bed. She kissed her way down my chest, sucking and flicking her tongue over my nipples, kissed further down and then was knelt upright between my open legs. Her hands began to stroke my cock through my underwear, massaging my balls and raking her nails up and down my shaft making me squirm before pulling my shorts down. She smiled at me with her eyes, a wry knowing smile crept onto her beautiful face as she gripped my cock and dipped her head, engulfing me in her soft warm mouth. Heidi wasn't the best head I've had, but she was good. And what was good about it was that she took her time, she made it really sexy, slowly sliding my cock all the way into her mouth then pulling back and flicking her tongue round the head slowly so I could feel everything. There's a time and a place for fast frenetic head, but to begin with I love the theatrics and control of it when it's so slow and attentive. She holds my eyes as she licks up and down my shaft before starting to lick my balls and wanking me, settling into a steady rhythm.
I was in fucking heaven. And my moans were letting her know it. I could have laid there for hours (actually no, not hours - as much as I don't cum easily, being so well handled by a fucking hot girl would be testing me somewhat), but the gentleman and avid lover of pussy in me meant that it was her turn to lie back. So I pulled her up and told her to lie back. My hand went straight in between her legs, I could feel how wet she was through her panties. I kissed her neck softly as I lightly stroked up and down her pussy with my fingers. I kissed her ear and quietly told her how beautiful I thought she was, how hard she made me, how I was going to take my time going down on her, but that all the time I was I'd be thinking about sinking my hard cock into her for the first time.
A little bit forward for the first time I know, but we'd known each other for a while and I was really turned on. In any case Heidi kind of gasped a little and turned to kiss me really hard so I guess she was into it.
I kissed my way down her long torso, over her taut stomach and trailed my tongue from her navel directly down over her pubic bone to finish licking the fine mesh of her panties covering her. Ordinarily I'd maybe spend more time, but I have to admit I couldn't stop myself from gripping the waistband of her knickers with my teeth (I was still a little wet behind the ears and the teeth thing seemed like a 'sexy' thing at the time) and hooking my fingers under the sides to pull them down and over her long legs. She was recently waxed into just a slim strip of pubic hair, her pussy lips were swollen and glistening from her need in the soft low light. With a flat broad tongue I slowly licked her up and down, loving the wet feeling of her on my tongue. I reached my hands under and over her thighs and with my fingers pulling the skin round her pubic hair exposed her swollen little clit. With the wet pointed tip of my tongue I gently circled it, kissing and sucking her clit into my mouth and licking it firmly, Heidi raised her hips in time with me. Grinding her pussy into my face, my tongue sunk as far as I could inside her whilst two fingers reached over and rubbed her clit. She was moaning now with her eyes closed, heavy breathing and her hands pulling my head into her. I went back to concentrating on her clit and slid my middle finger inside her, she felt really smooth as I slowly fucked her with my finger.
"Put your cock in me. Please, I need you to fuck me"
My thoughts exactly. I got up and bent down to get a condom out of my wallet, I stood up and turned around to see her on all fours, rubbing her clit between her legs, looking back at me smiling dirtily. Looking down to my cock she said,
"I want you to fuck me from behind"
As I tore at the condom packet, my pulse raced making my cock throb and bob up and down. Her eyes were fixed on me, still playing with herself as I pulled the condom on. Getting up on the bed behind her I told her to reach round and spread herself for me which she didn't hesitate in doing. I guided just the tip of my cock into her, then holding her slim hips I slid myself slowly all the way into her making her involuntarily exclaim. Pulling all the way back out I thrust my hips forward hard and with a slap entered her fully again. I started to fuck. Slowly building up in speed I began really pounding her. This was an unceremonious first time and it was what we both wanted, we both just wanted my cock fucking her.
My hands reached forwards to grab her swinging tits as I continued fucking her hard. As my balls slapped against her I could feel that she was rubbing her clit, her face flat on one side against the bed, moaning and breathing hard, mumbling my name as I pounded her relentlessly, a sheen of sweat building on me from the exertions.
That night it continued in this way, me flipping her over onto her back pushing her legs up to her chest and fucking her really deeply, her riding me with a loud slapping as our thrusts met in time, her clit being hammered each time pushing her closer to orgasm. I remember how beautiful she looked riding me, her messed up hair tumbling over her shoulders onto her pert breasts, her fringe obscuring her eyes, her mouth parted with flushed lips as she panted and moaned as she rode me.
We stayed up till about 4 in the morning doing bumps, drinking, smoking and fucking all night. We fell asleep, a sweaty exhausted mess, me spooning her and stroking her hair as her breathing slowed. I kissed her back as my hand softly stroked affectionately all over her body till she fell asleep. I've always been affectionate, I'm not someone who will roll over and leave a girl to lie awake in the wet patch to listen to my snores, minutes after I've cum, I like to cuddle. As gay as that sounds.
We continued with this arrangement, meeting up whenever the mood took us for getting on for a year. I've not seen her for quite a while now, we arranged to catch up before Xmas but one thing or other got in the way and we cancelled.
Hmmm - I think I should maybe text her hello.
A False Start
Last night I had a date which was confusing. I met up with Tassles. After cancelling the other night I wasn't entirely sure we'd actually meet last night either as she'd been ill. She reassured me that she'd definitely make it out and true to her word, come 8:30 last night I was ordering us espresso martinis.
She was shorter than I imagined, though perfectly proportioned which maybe gave the illusion of height in her pictures. She was dressed casually in flat black boots, black jeans and a dark grey top. Her blonde hair was loose and casual, she was really pretty in real life, and cuter too.
We sat down and she apologised saying she was sniffly as well as dosed up on cold and flu medicine. I was a little apprehensive beforehand that she could be hard work, accustomed to guys showering her with attention and easy living (the private jet pictures made me think this). It turned out she was totally laid back and fun, she didn't take herself seriously at all, was kinda crude and used the word "fingered" twice in ten minutes. We had quite a lot of friends in common, she'd lived in Shoreditch years ago and we were making each other laugh.
We changed drinks, her to white wine, me to whisky. Things were getting flirty between us, and after another round of drinks she said she was feeling pissed already. We'd be getting on really well, with not one silence for the hour or so since we'd first met.
All of a sudden though she started to wane. Literally in the space of 5-10 minutes she went from all chatty to needing to go home. It was such a dramatic change that I worried it could have been something I said. We'd talked about being single and relationships so I said I'd been hurt by a girl, so thought maybe somehow this had put her off?
I paid for our drinks and we walked downstairs. She went to the toilet and we said goodbye. I kissed her on the cheek and said it was nice to meet her and left. Ah well, never mind.
So I headed back east, met up with some mates and proceeded to get very drunk, play pool and talk shit. I'd texted her to say "Let me know you get home safely anyway x"but didn't hear anything back. But then later on I got three texts through in one, her apologising for making a bad impression, that she was being sick in the toilet, and that she was sad when I gave her the cold kiss her on the cheek as she really fancied me.
Phew.
So she was actually genuinely ill. Hopefully this means we can meet up again when she's well and then she can damn well make it up to me ;)
I know this has been a pretty dull post, but I put this down to trying to make this a warts and all blog. Maybe I should only post when there's fireworks to discuss, but I feel nuanced reality is a more valuable commodity to be peddled. Plus, I'm hungover to fuck today so that's not helping. And I'm horny. Such a waste - I should be having hungover sex right about now. What I'd do for a good fuck now...
To offset this, later on I'll tell you about Heidi, my first fuck buddy.
xx
She was shorter than I imagined, though perfectly proportioned which maybe gave the illusion of height in her pictures. She was dressed casually in flat black boots, black jeans and a dark grey top. Her blonde hair was loose and casual, she was really pretty in real life, and cuter too.
We sat down and she apologised saying she was sniffly as well as dosed up on cold and flu medicine. I was a little apprehensive beforehand that she could be hard work, accustomed to guys showering her with attention and easy living (the private jet pictures made me think this). It turned out she was totally laid back and fun, she didn't take herself seriously at all, was kinda crude and used the word "fingered" twice in ten minutes. We had quite a lot of friends in common, she'd lived in Shoreditch years ago and we were making each other laugh.
We changed drinks, her to white wine, me to whisky. Things were getting flirty between us, and after another round of drinks she said she was feeling pissed already. We'd be getting on really well, with not one silence for the hour or so since we'd first met.
All of a sudden though she started to wane. Literally in the space of 5-10 minutes she went from all chatty to needing to go home. It was such a dramatic change that I worried it could have been something I said. We'd talked about being single and relationships so I said I'd been hurt by a girl, so thought maybe somehow this had put her off?
I paid for our drinks and we walked downstairs. She went to the toilet and we said goodbye. I kissed her on the cheek and said it was nice to meet her and left. Ah well, never mind.
So I headed back east, met up with some mates and proceeded to get very drunk, play pool and talk shit. I'd texted her to say "Let me know you get home safely anyway x"but didn't hear anything back. But then later on I got three texts through in one, her apologising for making a bad impression, that she was being sick in the toilet, and that she was sad when I gave her the cold kiss her on the cheek as she really fancied me.
Phew.
So she was actually genuinely ill. Hopefully this means we can meet up again when she's well and then she can damn well make it up to me ;)
I know this has been a pretty dull post, but I put this down to trying to make this a warts and all blog. Maybe I should only post when there's fireworks to discuss, but I feel nuanced reality is a more valuable commodity to be peddled. Plus, I'm hungover to fuck today so that's not helping. And I'm horny. Such a waste - I should be having hungover sex right about now. What I'd do for a good fuck now...
To offset this, later on I'll tell you about Heidi, my first fuck buddy.
xx
Saturday, 12 March 2011
A few things I fantasise about.
Since this is meant to be an open window into the workings of a mans mind I thought I'd jot these down.
This list could go on and on with more obscure, mundane, shocking or familiar scenarios but here are a few fantasies, notable only for occupying a place on the heavy rotation playlist for those intimate moments this Man enjoys.
- Sex with a girl who likes talking dirty, in a foreign language. Anything but afrikaans would do it, but if it's French or Italian then wow. In fact if you're French or Italian, please message me. Immediately.
- Being dominated by a beautiful girl dressed up in stockings, lingerie, heels, heavy eye make up and glossy red lipstick. No humiliation, that's not my bag. Just being used entirely for her pleasure as her sex toy. Teased. Told what to do. She takes great pleasure in playing with my cock, seeing how turned on she has me. Sitting on my face as she barely strokes my cock.
- The above scenario only she introduces a friend into the scenario, maybe a friends inexperienced younger sister (we're talking early 20's here). She learns the ropes on me, being told what to do by the dom girl.
- Fucking a girl in front of her boyfriend. Maybe he's been forced to sit in the corner of the room, he watches as I seduce his girl, see how I play her like an instrument, sees her come alive by my hands and lips like never before. She's turned on by the taboo nature of this interaction, it's permitted by him but wrong. I stand up, and she crawls over, lasciviously sucking my cock casting her eyes between his and mine. I roughly fuck her from behind, holding her hair, pounding her like a machine. I pull out and she hungrily spins round to take my load on her face. I dress, and leave them, him hard from watching his girl pleasured, her sticky and glowing from the fuck.
- Restraint. Not just tying my lover to my metal bed frame, but proper restraint. Where she is blindfolded and cannot move at all. I tease her relentlessly, going down on her and bringing her to the edge of orgasm 5 or 6 times, never letting her cum, but just simmering on the edge. Plunging my cock hard into her for 10 seconds before stopping, kissing her tenderly, kissing her all over her body and leaving the room for 5 minutes only to return for it to all begin again. Maybe I bring a fuck buddy back with me, I tell her to go down on her, with my lover restrained she can only feel a tongue, her thighs cannot close around her face. Then after a couple of minutes I push my cock into her mouth the realisation, restraint and stimulation all build and push her to another level of arousal she didn't think possible.
- The above scenario starring moi instead. I think?
- This. Only with a very different end.
- Another girl filming me and a lover fucking. She either does as she's told, when she's allowed to touch herself, how to film etc. Or she's the director, we do exactly as she wants, sexual marionettes.
- Aaaand in at number one. Yep, you guessed it. My own personal holy grail: A threesome with two girls, ideally friends.
Actually whilst sure, as said I'd love to hear French or Italian speakers come say 'salut' or 'ciao'. If you're a girl of this inclination then you jump to the head of the queue - in fact no, you'll have a people carrier pick you up, a man in an expensive suit open your door and a security team escort you to the head of the queue. Because a threesome is the one thing I fantasise about more than anything else, it is the thing I really hope I get to enjoy before I settle down. Unremarkable for a guy I'm sure you're thinking.
Unremarkable by name, unremarkable by nature.
xx
This list could go on and on with more obscure, mundane, shocking or familiar scenarios but here are a few fantasies, notable only for occupying a place on the heavy rotation playlist for those intimate moments this Man enjoys.
- Sex with a girl who likes talking dirty, in a foreign language. Anything but afrikaans would do it, but if it's French or Italian then wow. In fact if you're French or Italian, please message me. Immediately.
- Being dominated by a beautiful girl dressed up in stockings, lingerie, heels, heavy eye make up and glossy red lipstick. No humiliation, that's not my bag. Just being used entirely for her pleasure as her sex toy. Teased. Told what to do. She takes great pleasure in playing with my cock, seeing how turned on she has me. Sitting on my face as she barely strokes my cock.
- The above scenario only she introduces a friend into the scenario, maybe a friends inexperienced younger sister (we're talking early 20's here). She learns the ropes on me, being told what to do by the dom girl.
- Fucking a girl in front of her boyfriend. Maybe he's been forced to sit in the corner of the room, he watches as I seduce his girl, see how I play her like an instrument, sees her come alive by my hands and lips like never before. She's turned on by the taboo nature of this interaction, it's permitted by him but wrong. I stand up, and she crawls over, lasciviously sucking my cock casting her eyes between his and mine. I roughly fuck her from behind, holding her hair, pounding her like a machine. I pull out and she hungrily spins round to take my load on her face. I dress, and leave them, him hard from watching his girl pleasured, her sticky and glowing from the fuck.
- Restraint. Not just tying my lover to my metal bed frame, but proper restraint. Where she is blindfolded and cannot move at all. I tease her relentlessly, going down on her and bringing her to the edge of orgasm 5 or 6 times, never letting her cum, but just simmering on the edge. Plunging my cock hard into her for 10 seconds before stopping, kissing her tenderly, kissing her all over her body and leaving the room for 5 minutes only to return for it to all begin again. Maybe I bring a fuck buddy back with me, I tell her to go down on her, with my lover restrained she can only feel a tongue, her thighs cannot close around her face. Then after a couple of minutes I push my cock into her mouth the realisation, restraint and stimulation all build and push her to another level of arousal she didn't think possible.
- The above scenario starring moi instead. I think?
- This. Only with a very different end.
- Another girl filming me and a lover fucking. She either does as she's told, when she's allowed to touch herself, how to film etc. Or she's the director, we do exactly as she wants, sexual marionettes.
- Aaaand in at number one. Yep, you guessed it. My own personal holy grail: A threesome with two girls, ideally friends.
Actually whilst sure, as said I'd love to hear French or Italian speakers come say 'salut' or 'ciao'. If you're a girl of this inclination then you jump to the head of the queue - in fact no, you'll have a people carrier pick you up, a man in an expensive suit open your door and a security team escort you to the head of the queue. Because a threesome is the one thing I fantasise about more than anything else, it is the thing I really hope I get to enjoy before I settle down. Unremarkable for a guy I'm sure you're thinking.
Unremarkable by name, unremarkable by nature.
xx
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
Burlesque?
Less can-can, more can't -can't.
My date for tonight got told earlier that she's got a shoot early tomorrow and so we've had to postpone till next week.
Goddamn.
Ahh, the pitfalls of dating. At least this brings a sense of reality to the blog.
Now. What to do?
Or maybe more pertinently, who...
My date for tonight got told earlier that she's got a shoot early tomorrow and so we've had to postpone till next week.
Goddamn.
Ahh, the pitfalls of dating. At least this brings a sense of reality to the blog.
Now. What to do?
Or maybe more pertinently, who...
Nipple tassles
Hi there, remember me? Sorry, I've been overworked and out too much of late. How are you?
I have a date on tonight with a girl who is way above my league. She's a writer, model (more Maxim etc than Chanel) and is also a Burlesque dancer. She's a year younger than me, and I have to say that I'm very much looking forward to it.
I started chatting to her on facebook because her status updates were actually well observed, humorous quips rather than moronic postings about sandwiches or Charlie Sheen. Yes of course the main draw were her looks, but the fact she had a sarcastic humour made her instantly more attractive. I have to be honest though, having seen pictures of her in private jets I'm not convinced that I'm the sort of guy she'd normally go for, but we'll see.
We're going to go out in Soho, starting with espresso martinis (she has a coffee obsession and has never had one so it was an obvious choice) and then possibly leading on to going to The Box, a new place that inherits a rich history, being as it sits in a building smack bang in the middle of the red light district.
Wish me luck.
I have a date on tonight with a girl who is way above my league. She's a writer, model (more Maxim etc than Chanel) and is also a Burlesque dancer. She's a year younger than me, and I have to say that I'm very much looking forward to it.
I started chatting to her on facebook because her status updates were actually well observed, humorous quips rather than moronic postings about sandwiches or Charlie Sheen. Yes of course the main draw were her looks, but the fact she had a sarcastic humour made her instantly more attractive. I have to be honest though, having seen pictures of her in private jets I'm not convinced that I'm the sort of guy she'd normally go for, but we'll see.
We're going to go out in Soho, starting with espresso martinis (she has a coffee obsession and has never had one so it was an obvious choice) and then possibly leading on to going to The Box, a new place that inherits a rich history, being as it sits in a building smack bang in the middle of the red light district.
Wish me luck.
Monday, 14 February 2011
Love Letters
So, it's Valentines day today and a question that not a call girl asked me "Have you ever used writing as a means of seduction?" got me thinking. Initially I thought no I hadn't, maybe the word 'seduce' made me think in too formal a way, it made me think of 'wooing' and 'love letters', archaic notions from a more cultured age.
The love letter. Along with Cupid, it's the most celebrated byword for love in popular culture. And it's also one that most would agree is slowly dying too.
(Another one of these is the lost art of the mixtape, hardly anyone makes them anymore - which is crazy. Picking out the right balance of amazing new music - and for new read 'unheard', not whatever Pitchfork has tipped to be big news - with which to woo your intendeds ears is a really intimate and meaningful gesture. Tunes with lyrics which say for you what you're too afraid to and all tracklisted so they flow perfectly by theme, genre, tone - all in the pursuit of making their heart melt is an under valued pursuit I think)
It's undeniable that the physical medium of the love letter is of course dying out, but I think that its spirit is actually flourishing. Whilst the love letter is being held under and drowned beneath a sea of digital messages, it's this very sea which nourishes it's evolution and continuation. A bit like Obi-Wan (Yes, I realise I just lost half of any female audience there with a nerdy Star Wars reference, but hey).
I've touched before on how I think online dating is a good thing in that you get to actually converse on quite a meaningful level, it's not like in a bar where it's just shallow posturing. So going back to not a call girl's question of have I ever seduced anyone with my writing, I realise that yes: I've pretty much exclusively 'seduced' people with my writing.
And I don't think this is special to me at all. We all do. Be it texts, facebook, email or twitter: today we have more means of communication and therefore 'seduction' available to us than ever before. More opportunities to interact with the mind of another, each offering their own narrative tone: emails to say deeper things with eloquence, texts just to let them know you're thinking of them or for gruffly worded messages that lets them know exactly what you want to do to them, or pictures sent that say more than words can.
On a simple level, sure - I've had it with girls where I've been flirty, leading to pictures, cyber sex on instant chat etc. which has all laid the way to us meeting up and to us becoming fuck buddies for a little while maybe.
But the last couple of girls I've had anything serious with, I've enjoyed chasing and getting to know them by a written correspondence - a campaign of intellectual muscle flexing and fun. You know the feeling, you send a message, and you sit waiting. Wondering if she'll find your joke funny, whether she'll pick up on your subtle reference to a film or something obscure, if she'll answer your question with something that teaches you something, surprises you. I love that journey of discovery with someone so much. That red notification pops up on facebook, you click and it all gets resolved, resetting the interaction and inviting another opportunity to connect.
So whilst the love letter may be dying out, I think a long drawn out campaign of love letters is becoming the norm. Rather than a few grand standing gestures - a stoic over the top soliloquy, we're more likely to win someone over with a thousand kisses.
The girl I was seeing before K was initially at least, not too interested in me I don't think. But then after weeks of messages, banter, insightful conversations and everything else, she was. We met, got on like a house on fire (as we had already) and went out for a few months. Although K was into me from when we started talking, it was a similar thing - in fact K said she was almost scared to meet me because the person she felt she had got to know over messages was so good she was worried I'd not be able to live up to him in real life. I think at the end of it all that was the problem.
Maybe the pen is mightier than the sword...
The love letter. Along with Cupid, it's the most celebrated byword for love in popular culture. And it's also one that most would agree is slowly dying too.
(Another one of these is the lost art of the mixtape, hardly anyone makes them anymore - which is crazy. Picking out the right balance of amazing new music - and for new read 'unheard', not whatever Pitchfork has tipped to be big news - with which to woo your intendeds ears is a really intimate and meaningful gesture. Tunes with lyrics which say for you what you're too afraid to and all tracklisted so they flow perfectly by theme, genre, tone - all in the pursuit of making their heart melt is an under valued pursuit I think)
It's undeniable that the physical medium of the love letter is of course dying out, but I think that its spirit is actually flourishing. Whilst the love letter is being held under and drowned beneath a sea of digital messages, it's this very sea which nourishes it's evolution and continuation. A bit like Obi-Wan (Yes, I realise I just lost half of any female audience there with a nerdy Star Wars reference, but hey).
I've touched before on how I think online dating is a good thing in that you get to actually converse on quite a meaningful level, it's not like in a bar where it's just shallow posturing. So going back to not a call girl's question of have I ever seduced anyone with my writing, I realise that yes: I've pretty much exclusively 'seduced' people with my writing.
And I don't think this is special to me at all. We all do. Be it texts, facebook, email or twitter: today we have more means of communication and therefore 'seduction' available to us than ever before. More opportunities to interact with the mind of another, each offering their own narrative tone: emails to say deeper things with eloquence, texts just to let them know you're thinking of them or for gruffly worded messages that lets them know exactly what you want to do to them, or pictures sent that say more than words can.
On a simple level, sure - I've had it with girls where I've been flirty, leading to pictures, cyber sex on instant chat etc. which has all laid the way to us meeting up and to us becoming fuck buddies for a little while maybe.
But the last couple of girls I've had anything serious with, I've enjoyed chasing and getting to know them by a written correspondence - a campaign of intellectual muscle flexing and fun. You know the feeling, you send a message, and you sit waiting. Wondering if she'll find your joke funny, whether she'll pick up on your subtle reference to a film or something obscure, if she'll answer your question with something that teaches you something, surprises you. I love that journey of discovery with someone so much. That red notification pops up on facebook, you click and it all gets resolved, resetting the interaction and inviting another opportunity to connect.
So whilst the love letter may be dying out, I think a long drawn out campaign of love letters is becoming the norm. Rather than a few grand standing gestures - a stoic over the top soliloquy, we're more likely to win someone over with a thousand kisses.
The girl I was seeing before K was initially at least, not too interested in me I don't think. But then after weeks of messages, banter, insightful conversations and everything else, she was. We met, got on like a house on fire (as we had already) and went out for a few months. Although K was into me from when we started talking, it was a similar thing - in fact K said she was almost scared to meet me because the person she felt she had got to know over messages was so good she was worried I'd not be able to live up to him in real life. I think at the end of it all that was the problem.
Maybe the pen is mightier than the sword...
Sunday, 13 February 2011
Mirror, Signal, Maneuver.
As we set off on the road we were in high spirits. Hungover, sun-kissed, relaxed and still wet from the amazing pool we'd just spent the last 4 hours laughing and fucking about in with friends. We had about 4 hours on the road ahead of us, but with good music, company and the sun high in a cloudless sky it was a journey I was looking forward to.
We were sat talking, me driving in swimming shorts and t-shirt, Blondie in bikini bottoms and a strappy top. Her feet were on the dashboard with her knees raised up and I'm sure every now and then her hand would dip down between her legs although maybe that was wishful thinking on my part.
Now I can't remember exactly what happened, I think I must have jokingly suggested it earlier, but after about 20 minutes she kisses me on the cheek, hops into the back and starts ordering me like I'm her driver. How very amusing. As we talk I'm looking at her in the rearview mirror, it's actually turning me on looking at her green-blue eyes and full lips, just a postbox of her face - maybe it's because subconsciously it feels like I'm being a voyeur and that I can't see what else is going on behind me.
Every now and then she taps me with her foot in the back of my head, she's got both her feet up on top of the front seats. After a few taps I turn around to give her a mock telling off, and I see that she's rubbing herself through her bikini bottoms. She has mastered the 'slutty, sexy, coy cheeky smile' look and it never fails to turn me on when she flashes it my way. I turn back to pay attention to the road ahead of me and whenever I look in the mirror (a lot) she fixes me with this look. I glance round again and she's pulled her bikini to one side as her fingers play with her clit. I reach back with my right hand and start to rub up and down her thigh, edging closer to her pussy. When I touch her I find that she's sopping wet and my cock gets painfully hard. It's almost like being tied up, I can't divert too much attention to the happenings of the back seat because I'm driving, but it's all I'm thinking about.
As I start to awkwardly finger her (try it some time, unless you're this guy the angles are tough) she moves onto and starts to fuck my fingers. As I look in the mirror her eyes are closed as she bites her bottom lip.
We're on a relatively straight road and luckily there aren't too many cars around so it's not too hard to drive, but we hit a series of junctions and I have to fully concentrate on driving again. Blondie hops back into the front seat to change the music, then start to rub the inside of my thigh.
"You like me being a slut for you don't you?"
Her hand has now moved up and is massaging my balls.
"I've made your cock hard haven't I?"
She starts to trace the outline of my by now throbbing cock.
"I love it when you're hard for me Colin."
Colin isn't my name at all. Haha, imagine if it was though.
Her hand is now firmly rubbing me through my shorts, her fingers gently clawing around the head of my dick, teasing me so I can feel pre cum soaking the material from her ministrations. She pulls the waistband of my shorts open, scoops me out and licking her hand she begins to slowly give me a handjob, twisting her hand up and down my cock as she goes.
I almost lose my mind to this it's so good. Blondie has given me some of the best handjobs and head I've ever had - and it's rarer that it should be that a girl knows exactly what she's doing as well as enjoys it. But then it just makes it all the better once you do end up lucky enough to be in their hands. As I type, I'm sat here rock hard right now wishing she could be doing just what I'm writing about now. In fact I've just texted her the same.
Back in the car and we're now on a motorway which is handy because after 5 minutes of this I'm breathing so heavily I'm getting a little light headed and not fully concentrating. She's playing with herself with her right hand as she wanks me with her left, then swapping to her right hand slick with her wet pussy she starts stroking my cock harder. It's so hot feeling her pussy juice on my cock as she does this and she fucking knows it. Her head now descends into my lap and her mouth engulfs the tip of my dick as her hand twists rhythmically up and down the shaft, I can feel her tongue swirl round me before she starts to fuck me with her mouth taking more and more of me in until I'm hitting the back of her throat. My hand now grabs her hair and I start to fuck her mouth,
"You fucking love that don't you you slut? You're such a fucking whore sucking my cock like this, anyone driving past can see what you're doing - and you love it don't you?"
She moans her assent loudly and the vibrations feel amazing. She forces my cock really far into her throat and she gags, coughing and spluttering onto my cock. The excess saliva dribbles down my shaft and onto my balls. As she catches her breath she spits on her hands and roughly rubs up and down my cock, gripping firmly and twisting round the tip so I can't stand it, it's too fucking good.
I've been keeping an eye out for any turnings for the past 5 minutes and I spot one up ahead. I turn off and we're on a hedge lined rural road. We round a corner and there's an opening which we drive past. I brake, reverse and turn in. It's a small disused carpark which used to service some sort of factory/warehouse which is now derelict.
The windows are like dirty rows of broken teeth, the roof has holes in it and there is equipment on the ground, weeds grow around them. I love architectural degradation, where time erodes and nature reclaims so it sticks in my memory as an amazing place where if I was by myself I'd be clambering around taking pictures. As it was it was it was an amazing setting for my plans.
I drive to the end and park the car so it's passenger side on if anyone were to drive in. I get out, leave the door open and tell Blondie to get in my seat with her legs out of the car. The breeze rustles the trees around us, birds and crickets chatter away; aside from the odd car passing by in the distance it is perfectly still.
The sun is still beating down hard, I drop my shorts, take my top off and stand naked there in front of her. She resists the obvious action here (to laugh, point and tell me how fucking stupid I look) and is luckily turned on enough by it all to choose the second course of action - to pull me towards her by my cock and take me in her mouth again. She's a good mate is Blondie. After a minute or two of this I pull my cock away from her and crouch down, kissing her hard with my fingers pushing on her clit. No rubbing, no circling, just firm constant pressure which I then start to move from side to side, her clit being moved around my fingers. She starts to moan and I pull back.
"Put your hands behind you and lean back"
I roughly pull the straps of her top down to reveal her perky tits, topped by hard nipples. I pull her by her legs so she's leant back further and kiss her hungrily, both my hands cupping her tits, kneading them then rolling her nipples between my fingers as I kiss my way down her stomach. My elbows push her legs wider and with my hands holding her thighs I dip my tongue into her pussy. I'm so turned on that there's no subtlety employed, no gentle teasing, I'm just straight into her clit licking her hard and fast. My hands are now under her knees and holding her legs tightly so she can't move, raising them up so I can tongue her ass too, my tongue licking wetly from ass to clit and back again. I let go of her legs and my fingers take over where once my tongue had been. She's so wet that I slip two fingers into her straight away. Her face is flushed and I'm staring into her eyes with a burning carnal intensity. Holding her eyes I dip my head and spit perfectly onto her clit which elicits a moan. My fingers start to fuck her cunt building up a steady rhythm, but not pushing in as far as I can go, only about three quarters of the way. When I return my tongue to her clit I also push my fingers in as deep as I can, and curling them towards me I press on her g-spot hard as I know she likes.
Blondie is a screamer, and in this situation she's not holding back. She has her feet up up on the seat so her pussy is perfectly exposed for me to fuck her with my fingers. My tongue is starting to tire I'm licking so fast now, my arm pistoning back and forth as I fuck her. She starts to breathlessly tell me she's going to cum so with my other hand I start tweaking her nipple hard and the pain sends her over the edge as she starts to cum - really hard, screaming and no doubt troubling some nice old French grandmothers in the village over the hill. I pull my fingers from her and keeping her legs apart I blow on her sensitive clit, rewarded with spasms from her flushed body as she moans and catches her breath. I really love seeing Blondie cum, she doesn't fuck around and totally gives in to her pleasure.
I stand up and my cock is still rock hard and proudly standing there demanding reciprocation. She happily sits up and obliges me. I move towards her and put my hands on the roof of the car, my chest resting against the frame so all I can see is the derelict surroundings, rustling trees and sky, the disassociation with what is going on below seems to intensify the feelings and I'm getting close to cumming really quickly. I pull back and start to stroke myself hard and fast, Blondie leans forward, opens her mouth, sticks out her looong tongue (She's bi, so it's also a tongue I hope to one day see buried in another lucky girls pussy whilst I watch my cock disappear into her mouth) and fixes me with her beautiful eyes imploring me to cum for her. Which I do. Heavily. Spraying thick cables of my hot cum onto her tongue, across her face and tits. As she licks her lips free of the cum surrounding them she lasciviously rubs my cum into her tits and moves forwards to suck my now softening cock clean.
Whilst I put my shorts back on, she lights two cigarettes and hands me one. We sit in our seats basking in the post coital glow and the warm French afternoon sun.
I miss France. Especially on a cold London night.
Valentines tomorrow, so I'll leave with the wise words of Socrates:
"Marry in any case: if you find a good spouse, you will be happy, if a bad one, you will learn to be philosophical"
Happy forced displays of affection day everyone!
We were sat talking, me driving in swimming shorts and t-shirt, Blondie in bikini bottoms and a strappy top. Her feet were on the dashboard with her knees raised up and I'm sure every now and then her hand would dip down between her legs although maybe that was wishful thinking on my part.
Now I can't remember exactly what happened, I think I must have jokingly suggested it earlier, but after about 20 minutes she kisses me on the cheek, hops into the back and starts ordering me like I'm her driver. How very amusing. As we talk I'm looking at her in the rearview mirror, it's actually turning me on looking at her green-blue eyes and full lips, just a postbox of her face - maybe it's because subconsciously it feels like I'm being a voyeur and that I can't see what else is going on behind me.
Every now and then she taps me with her foot in the back of my head, she's got both her feet up on top of the front seats. After a few taps I turn around to give her a mock telling off, and I see that she's rubbing herself through her bikini bottoms. She has mastered the 'slutty, sexy, coy cheeky smile' look and it never fails to turn me on when she flashes it my way. I turn back to pay attention to the road ahead of me and whenever I look in the mirror (a lot) she fixes me with this look. I glance round again and she's pulled her bikini to one side as her fingers play with her clit. I reach back with my right hand and start to rub up and down her thigh, edging closer to her pussy. When I touch her I find that she's sopping wet and my cock gets painfully hard. It's almost like being tied up, I can't divert too much attention to the happenings of the back seat because I'm driving, but it's all I'm thinking about.
As I start to awkwardly finger her (try it some time, unless you're this guy the angles are tough) she moves onto and starts to fuck my fingers. As I look in the mirror her eyes are closed as she bites her bottom lip.
We're on a relatively straight road and luckily there aren't too many cars around so it's not too hard to drive, but we hit a series of junctions and I have to fully concentrate on driving again. Blondie hops back into the front seat to change the music, then start to rub the inside of my thigh.
"You like me being a slut for you don't you?"
Her hand has now moved up and is massaging my balls.
"I've made your cock hard haven't I?"
She starts to trace the outline of my by now throbbing cock.
"I love it when you're hard for me Colin."
Colin isn't my name at all. Haha, imagine if it was though.
Her hand is now firmly rubbing me through my shorts, her fingers gently clawing around the head of my dick, teasing me so I can feel pre cum soaking the material from her ministrations. She pulls the waistband of my shorts open, scoops me out and licking her hand she begins to slowly give me a handjob, twisting her hand up and down my cock as she goes.
I almost lose my mind to this it's so good. Blondie has given me some of the best handjobs and head I've ever had - and it's rarer that it should be that a girl knows exactly what she's doing as well as enjoys it. But then it just makes it all the better once you do end up lucky enough to be in their hands. As I type, I'm sat here rock hard right now wishing she could be doing just what I'm writing about now. In fact I've just texted her the same.
Back in the car and we're now on a motorway which is handy because after 5 minutes of this I'm breathing so heavily I'm getting a little light headed and not fully concentrating. She's playing with herself with her right hand as she wanks me with her left, then swapping to her right hand slick with her wet pussy she starts stroking my cock harder. It's so hot feeling her pussy juice on my cock as she does this and she fucking knows it. Her head now descends into my lap and her mouth engulfs the tip of my dick as her hand twists rhythmically up and down the shaft, I can feel her tongue swirl round me before she starts to fuck me with her mouth taking more and more of me in until I'm hitting the back of her throat. My hand now grabs her hair and I start to fuck her mouth,
"You fucking love that don't you you slut? You're such a fucking whore sucking my cock like this, anyone driving past can see what you're doing - and you love it don't you?"
She moans her assent loudly and the vibrations feel amazing. She forces my cock really far into her throat and she gags, coughing and spluttering onto my cock. The excess saliva dribbles down my shaft and onto my balls. As she catches her breath she spits on her hands and roughly rubs up and down my cock, gripping firmly and twisting round the tip so I can't stand it, it's too fucking good.
I've been keeping an eye out for any turnings for the past 5 minutes and I spot one up ahead. I turn off and we're on a hedge lined rural road. We round a corner and there's an opening which we drive past. I brake, reverse and turn in. It's a small disused carpark which used to service some sort of factory/warehouse which is now derelict.
The windows are like dirty rows of broken teeth, the roof has holes in it and there is equipment on the ground, weeds grow around them. I love architectural degradation, where time erodes and nature reclaims so it sticks in my memory as an amazing place where if I was by myself I'd be clambering around taking pictures. As it was it was it was an amazing setting for my plans.
I drive to the end and park the car so it's passenger side on if anyone were to drive in. I get out, leave the door open and tell Blondie to get in my seat with her legs out of the car. The breeze rustles the trees around us, birds and crickets chatter away; aside from the odd car passing by in the distance it is perfectly still.
The sun is still beating down hard, I drop my shorts, take my top off and stand naked there in front of her. She resists the obvious action here (to laugh, point and tell me how fucking stupid I look) and is luckily turned on enough by it all to choose the second course of action - to pull me towards her by my cock and take me in her mouth again. She's a good mate is Blondie. After a minute or two of this I pull my cock away from her and crouch down, kissing her hard with my fingers pushing on her clit. No rubbing, no circling, just firm constant pressure which I then start to move from side to side, her clit being moved around my fingers. She starts to moan and I pull back.
"Put your hands behind you and lean back"
I roughly pull the straps of her top down to reveal her perky tits, topped by hard nipples. I pull her by her legs so she's leant back further and kiss her hungrily, both my hands cupping her tits, kneading them then rolling her nipples between my fingers as I kiss my way down her stomach. My elbows push her legs wider and with my hands holding her thighs I dip my tongue into her pussy. I'm so turned on that there's no subtlety employed, no gentle teasing, I'm just straight into her clit licking her hard and fast. My hands are now under her knees and holding her legs tightly so she can't move, raising them up so I can tongue her ass too, my tongue licking wetly from ass to clit and back again. I let go of her legs and my fingers take over where once my tongue had been. She's so wet that I slip two fingers into her straight away. Her face is flushed and I'm staring into her eyes with a burning carnal intensity. Holding her eyes I dip my head and spit perfectly onto her clit which elicits a moan. My fingers start to fuck her cunt building up a steady rhythm, but not pushing in as far as I can go, only about three quarters of the way. When I return my tongue to her clit I also push my fingers in as deep as I can, and curling them towards me I press on her g-spot hard as I know she likes.
Blondie is a screamer, and in this situation she's not holding back. She has her feet up up on the seat so her pussy is perfectly exposed for me to fuck her with my fingers. My tongue is starting to tire I'm licking so fast now, my arm pistoning back and forth as I fuck her. She starts to breathlessly tell me she's going to cum so with my other hand I start tweaking her nipple hard and the pain sends her over the edge as she starts to cum - really hard, screaming and no doubt troubling some nice old French grandmothers in the village over the hill. I pull my fingers from her and keeping her legs apart I blow on her sensitive clit, rewarded with spasms from her flushed body as she moans and catches her breath. I really love seeing Blondie cum, she doesn't fuck around and totally gives in to her pleasure.
I stand up and my cock is still rock hard and proudly standing there demanding reciprocation. She happily sits up and obliges me. I move towards her and put my hands on the roof of the car, my chest resting against the frame so all I can see is the derelict surroundings, rustling trees and sky, the disassociation with what is going on below seems to intensify the feelings and I'm getting close to cumming really quickly. I pull back and start to stroke myself hard and fast, Blondie leans forward, opens her mouth, sticks out her looong tongue (She's bi, so it's also a tongue I hope to one day see buried in another lucky girls pussy whilst I watch my cock disappear into her mouth) and fixes me with her beautiful eyes imploring me to cum for her. Which I do. Heavily. Spraying thick cables of my hot cum onto her tongue, across her face and tits. As she licks her lips free of the cum surrounding them she lasciviously rubs my cum into her tits and moves forwards to suck my now softening cock clean.
Whilst I put my shorts back on, she lights two cigarettes and hands me one. We sit in our seats basking in the post coital glow and the warm French afternoon sun.
I miss France. Especially on a cold London night.
Valentines tomorrow, so I'll leave with the wise words of Socrates:
"Marry in any case: if you find a good spouse, you will be happy, if a bad one, you will learn to be philosophical"
Happy forced displays of affection day everyone!
Saturday, 12 February 2011
What are friends for?
I've known Blondie for years now. She's a real little bombshell. She doesn't walk down the street: she insinuates her way through the crowd oozing sex. When I walk along with her it always amuses me the looks she gets from guys; and builders? Forget about it...
She looks kinda like a cross between Scarlett Johansen and Madonna (she'll love me for saying that). Petite, size 8 with curves — quite simply she has a body that's made for sex.
She's a good mate, and as I say I've known her for years. We've messed around infrequently and about 70% of these dalliances have happened after 4am when we're both absolutely off our faces or as stolen risky moments, like her blowing me in a toilet whilst all our friends are outside banging to get in whilst we pretend we're just doing bumps. Only recently have we started to mess around when sober and it's been pretty fucking amazing.
She's had a couple of boyfriends for most of the time we've known each other, so that's stopped us getting up to no good in the main, but it didn't stop us flirting. Or whilst at work talking on instant chat all sorts of filth and dirty scenarios when we're drunk or hungover. You see she's very much like me in mindset. She's basically a guy in a girls very fuckable body.
Things stepped up last year when we were away with a bunch of friends for about five days in the French sun. To save on costs Blondie and I ended up agreeing to share a room. So we flew together, hired a car and headed off on a road trip through the French countryside to the first hotel. The first night we all went out for a meal - one of those meals where the food, whilst really good, seems to be more just an accompaniment to all the wine and champagne that's flowing.
The restaurant is closing and so we all roll back to the hotel bar where it's just our group and the barmen. We are by the point all very drunk so when someones suggests the idea of a late night swim, having a prior history of losing clothing when drunk, I think it's a genius idea.
Only myself, Blondie and an aussie guy we'd just met still felt it was a good idea once the remark gave birth to action. When the three of us venture out, we're greeted by a cloudy night and a dark deserted pool. It's framed on three sides by hotel rooms but it's late, so no lights are on. An exploratory hand in the water reveals that the pool isn't heated, and it is coooold. However Blondie typically steps up to the challenge, pulls her dress up over her head and shows the two big macho guys how to not fuck around by diving straight in. She surfaces to us laughing and replies with a loud "FUCK ME IT'S COLD!"
So me and aussie strip down to our underwear and plunge into the water. And is IS cold. After a few minutes and aussie's constitution which is seemingly built for warmer climes, makes him have to get out and head back to his room to get warm. Which just leaves me a Blondie.
By now I'm used to the water, and since I'm swimming about it's not so bad, I swim down to the shallow end and lean back against the pool wall. Right on cue the clouds part and a half moon throws soft light down on us. The cold black water now becomes an undulating shattered mirror. I remember this because as Blondie walked in the shallows towards me she left a spreading silver 'V' trailing behind her like a mercury wedding train attached to her hips. The water had made her nipples rock hard, her tits perky, taut and high. We were both smiling, laughing, drunk and euphoric from the cold water and situation, so when we first hug, it's exactly that, just a hug. But as soon as our warm wet bodies touch, it instantly becomes more. Her nipples press into my chest and my dick (probably pretty unimpressive from the cold) is up against her stomach, we both look each other deep in the eyes and kiss with really soft open lips, which carry on into slow tongues, hands sliding up and down on wet flesh, mine pulling her by her ass into me closer - only she pulls away and says we should get back to the bar.
Back in the bar we're given heavy duty spirits in heavy bottomed glasses, cigarettes, smiles and assorted gender based compliments/insults that you can probably imagine.
That night history repeated itself with raucous (there was biting, spitting and slapping), drunken (memories are shady) messing around.
The thing with us is that even though we flirt just about all the time, it ebbs and flows, building to a crescendo where we'll maybe end up doing something, but even then you're never quite sure - and that's the hot thing about it, it's never a foregone conclusion. It's more just that there's a constant threat of sex in the room when we're together. For example we were out at a fashion launch party a week or so ago, we'd been texting some dirty stuff to each other earlier in the day so the scene had been set a little. We're standing side by side at the free bar and it's rammed. So I turn towards her a little and my hand reaches up under her skirt and between her legs, my fingers stroking her plump lips before settling on her clit. We carry on talking (albeit rubbish, the words come out of both our mouths but there's nothing being said) and she grinds against my hand. No one can tell, no one can see, and it's hot. We did nothing else, we went our separate ways at the end of the night and that was that. I like that.
So now you know Blondie. You'll be reading more about her.
There are two things I want to tell you about that happened on this trip, one is a car journey and the other is the happenings within an apartment.
She looks kinda like a cross between Scarlett Johansen and Madonna (she'll love me for saying that). Petite, size 8 with curves — quite simply she has a body that's made for sex.
She's a good mate, and as I say I've known her for years. We've messed around infrequently and about 70% of these dalliances have happened after 4am when we're both absolutely off our faces or as stolen risky moments, like her blowing me in a toilet whilst all our friends are outside banging to get in whilst we pretend we're just doing bumps. Only recently have we started to mess around when sober and it's been pretty fucking amazing.
She's had a couple of boyfriends for most of the time we've known each other, so that's stopped us getting up to no good in the main, but it didn't stop us flirting. Or whilst at work talking on instant chat all sorts of filth and dirty scenarios when we're drunk or hungover. You see she's very much like me in mindset. She's basically a guy in a girls very fuckable body.
Things stepped up last year when we were away with a bunch of friends for about five days in the French sun. To save on costs Blondie and I ended up agreeing to share a room. So we flew together, hired a car and headed off on a road trip through the French countryside to the first hotel. The first night we all went out for a meal - one of those meals where the food, whilst really good, seems to be more just an accompaniment to all the wine and champagne that's flowing.
The restaurant is closing and so we all roll back to the hotel bar where it's just our group and the barmen. We are by the point all very drunk so when someones suggests the idea of a late night swim, having a prior history of losing clothing when drunk, I think it's a genius idea.
Only myself, Blondie and an aussie guy we'd just met still felt it was a good idea once the remark gave birth to action. When the three of us venture out, we're greeted by a cloudy night and a dark deserted pool. It's framed on three sides by hotel rooms but it's late, so no lights are on. An exploratory hand in the water reveals that the pool isn't heated, and it is coooold. However Blondie typically steps up to the challenge, pulls her dress up over her head and shows the two big macho guys how to not fuck around by diving straight in. She surfaces to us laughing and replies with a loud "FUCK ME IT'S COLD!"
So me and aussie strip down to our underwear and plunge into the water. And is IS cold. After a few minutes and aussie's constitution which is seemingly built for warmer climes, makes him have to get out and head back to his room to get warm. Which just leaves me a Blondie.
By now I'm used to the water, and since I'm swimming about it's not so bad, I swim down to the shallow end and lean back against the pool wall. Right on cue the clouds part and a half moon throws soft light down on us. The cold black water now becomes an undulating shattered mirror. I remember this because as Blondie walked in the shallows towards me she left a spreading silver 'V' trailing behind her like a mercury wedding train attached to her hips. The water had made her nipples rock hard, her tits perky, taut and high. We were both smiling, laughing, drunk and euphoric from the cold water and situation, so when we first hug, it's exactly that, just a hug. But as soon as our warm wet bodies touch, it instantly becomes more. Her nipples press into my chest and my dick (probably pretty unimpressive from the cold) is up against her stomach, we both look each other deep in the eyes and kiss with really soft open lips, which carry on into slow tongues, hands sliding up and down on wet flesh, mine pulling her by her ass into me closer - only she pulls away and says we should get back to the bar.
Back in the bar we're given heavy duty spirits in heavy bottomed glasses, cigarettes, smiles and assorted gender based compliments/insults that you can probably imagine.
That night history repeated itself with raucous (there was biting, spitting and slapping), drunken (memories are shady) messing around.
The thing with us is that even though we flirt just about all the time, it ebbs and flows, building to a crescendo where we'll maybe end up doing something, but even then you're never quite sure - and that's the hot thing about it, it's never a foregone conclusion. It's more just that there's a constant threat of sex in the room when we're together. For example we were out at a fashion launch party a week or so ago, we'd been texting some dirty stuff to each other earlier in the day so the scene had been set a little. We're standing side by side at the free bar and it's rammed. So I turn towards her a little and my hand reaches up under her skirt and between her legs, my fingers stroking her plump lips before settling on her clit. We carry on talking (albeit rubbish, the words come out of both our mouths but there's nothing being said) and she grinds against my hand. No one can tell, no one can see, and it's hot. We did nothing else, we went our separate ways at the end of the night and that was that. I like that.
So now you know Blondie. You'll be reading more about her.
There are two things I want to tell you about that happened on this trip, one is a car journey and the other is the happenings within an apartment.
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...
Monday, 31 January 2011
Less than the sum of it's parts.
I used to work in the same building as P a long time ago. I remember her because she was tall, blonde, hot, successful.....as well as showing no interest in me whatsoever.
She constantly ignored me as we queued for coffee. Constantly ignored me in the gym. Ignored me when we'd pass each other in the reception. This was irksome for me, and not because I hold myself up as noteworthy and in need of constant recognition by all those underlings who pass before me (I am, but everyone else is slow on the pick up of this). We worked in the same role in different parts of the same company. We had friends in common so I'd have expected something. But nope, she stuck resolutely to her plan of not noticing my friendly smile if I saw her about.
But a few years after I'd left that place I saw her in a restaurant where I was having a meeting, she was with some guys I knew so I went over and said hi. After this I was told she was asking after me, then a mutual friend said she thought I was hot. Which given my earlier experience of her came as a surprise.
About a year or so ago we exchanged a few messages on facebook, suggested a few dates for drinks but nothing came of it, something else always came up. But before Xmas just gone she wanted me to meet her and her boss to discuss a work related thing she thought I could help with. Whilst it was vaguely worthwhile, it was clearly just an excuse to meet up. We had a few drinks and talked business, her boss left, then a few more drinks, and we got on kinda well. I left to go meet up with some friends and got texts from her straight away saying it was lovely to meet and if I'd like to she'd love to meet up when I was back from S America. There were no games being played here.
Now here was a girl who was really pretty, tall, blonde, middle class and not short of attention. If I was to guess at her past, and yes I know this is awfully judgemental - but hey I'm not here to present a PC utopian view of my thoughts, it's the unedited workings of a mans brain the stuff we all think but don't say - I'd say she was a sports captain in some way (she's a runner), possible head girl but definite prefect material, would have gone out with a guy from the Uni 1st XV rugby team and in general had a pretty easy, non-challenging life. Because unfortunately: she was dull.
All too often I find that looks can spoil a girl - I guess they spend their whole lives getting what they want, being effortlessly popular, have guys laughing and smiling at whatever they say and girls defer to them for all of these reasons. In the same way you'll find that fat dudes are funny, these girls never really needed to develop a strong personality as such, so they didn't. In a similar way a lot of really hot girls are insecure messes. They're all too aware that they're hot, that they get treated in a certain way just because they're hot so it plays on their minds. Do they really like me or is it just because my cheekbones are really high, my eyes a perfect shade of azure jade, and my ass that makes men crash their cars in the summer. Now I'm of course generalising and exaggerating to some extent, but this is just based on my experience.
However, yes she may be a little bland, but she's also 6ft, blonde shoulder length hair, brown eyes, a mouth that's more of a pleasure to kiss than you'd think just from looking at it and she's in really good shape. Long legs, really tight ass that as a long distance runner you'd probably expect. So I'm not about to pass up finding out what I've wondered since I worked in that building...
We met for drinks the other week, got stuck into cocktails and general chit chat. We got drunk and carried on with chit chat. Then she suggested we get some coke, so I did. And we continued with the chit chat only with a higher volume of words thrown back and forth. And that was the problem, we didn't really get past chit chat. I'm not saying that I'm an intellectual colossus here, but I do like to think a little more than just basics and I like to be able to talk to a girl on a deeper level too. Plus she'd say that she thought I was maybe too cool for her. No, what she actually said was "I think maybe you're too cool for school!"
Too cool for school. What, am I dating my great aunt here?? Shuuushh....
For me at least, it was clear that whilst she was 'nice' (and she is totally nice, a cute lovely girl), it's also clear that we don't have much in common, from our cultural reference points - she likes euro-poppy techno and Kings of Leon, and I...well, I don't - through to our cultural values, whereas I like a grimy bar a run down area, she...well she thinks they're 'grimy' and 'run down' in a bad way.
However we'd not be the first people to kiss who weren't deeply compatible. And we won't be the last. We drunkenly left the bar, headed back for mine. Where we kissed a lot, she took all her clothes off except for her knickers which weren't going anywhere. This was a 'not messing about on the first night' kinda girl. Which is fair enough. But a little contrived when she was so obviously keen (I'm sorry, but the messages and attitude over the weeks had made us having sex at some point, a forgone conclusion), and when she's sending me flirty messages after, even asking me to come over a play. But still, each to their own so fair enough.
So on Thursday we had another date. This time in her neck of the woods "We can go for drinks and then head back to mine to play"- I was agreeable to the notion. We went to a bar which was typical South West London. The guys running it were well spoken, nice guys, but far too young to have set up the bar with anything other than family money, the 'cocktails' were spoofs or knock off imitations of the real thing, but the place wasn't too bad. It had a fair amount of taxidermy which seems to be everywhere nowadays, some decent tunes, and a guitarist playing sporadically throughout the night which was surprisingly alright. So we're getting on ok, are a few drinks in and she asks what I want to do later.
I say I'm not sure, what are the options, what does she want to do?
"I think I'd maybe like to take some drugs and then have a lot of sex?"
Now I have to say that this is not the sort of thing I would have expected from her. Yes we've had a few flirty texts, but she's really way too 'nice' for that sort of talk so this caught me off guard. In a good way. Turns out she'd got a gram of coke back at hers in preparation, lots of booze and the rest of it. Took me about a minute to pay for our tab and we were off on the bus back to hers.
I'm not sure if it's my ex still K affecting me (no doubt a little) or whether it's because I've begun to sate the hungry sexual beast inside me with a lot of wild and different sex, but I'm not quite so excited by it at the moment. The imminent prospect of sex used to give me a buzz, get me excited more than it seems to at the moment. Actually, maybe that's no entirely true - but it certainly was in this case with P. Ordinarily my mind would be all:
"Wooo-hooo!!! In about 20 minutes we're going to be naked and she is hot! I can't wait to see what her pussy tastes like. I wonder if she's going to be dirty? God I can't wait to fuck her, I wonder if she swallows" etc etc.
You see with P, it wasn't just the fact that there was no challenge to it at all. That's usually hot. If me and a girl have got on a wavelength where we're talking about the fact we're totally into fucking each other, then things move up a gear. It was that there was that spark missing between us. I've got to say it's the first time this has happened for me, a really hot girl who isn't getting me excited by the prospect of sex with her. Whilst P was nice, that's all she was, lukewarm.
We got back to hers, and it was fucking freezing. She'd forgotten to turn the heating on and last week London was bitterly cold. So the heater goes on, we open a bottle of red and sit at the dining table. She gets the coke out and I deal with it, crushing up the larger chunks with a credit card before grinding the rest out under a £20 note and chopping out two chubby lines for us. As the gak kicks in, the chat speeds up and the wine gets drained.
And you know what, I'm not even going to go into the specifics here because there's really nothing all that engaging to tell. The room just wouldn't warm up, so whilst we were soon on the sofa kissing, hands wondering - as the clothes came off it wasn't all that hot because it was so damn cold. We were there playing with each other under this pink fleece blanket and whilst she was actually more dextrous than I might have expected it wasn't all it could be had the heating been on (I'm talking about the experience here, not the size of my manhood thankfully. He rose to the occasion admirably). We fucked, for all of five minutes before returning to foreplay and kissing, as I just wasn't into it. The lack of any heat on all fronts had killed it.
We drank more, took down more lines and talked. One thing she asked actually made me think though.
"In a situation like this do you think coke brings you together or kind of isolates you?"
On any date where I've got on and we've been gakked up, yes of course we talk a lot and get on, and most of the time we go on to fuck all night, doing drunken coked up acts you'd not normally straight away. However sometimes it does rob you of your sex drive, or more to the point whilst you're getting on with someone it pushes some distance, a disconnect of some sort in there. It happened this night, and I realise now it happened with K a lot too.
K used to have a bit of an issue with drugs, nothing too serious, but enough for her to feel like she needed to drop a group of friends to get away from the cycle of parties and constant hedonism. She was a hipster if you will, a girl with a lot of money, exploring art, hanging around with scensters and had a predilection for getting high. I see now in hindsight that we brought out the worst in each other, and we'd do too much coke, the thin lines building to a gulf between us.
I'm going to end this post here, it's not been a very interesting one I know - mainly down to a non-interesting date, I'll dedicate an exploration of drugs and what not separately.
Tomorrow night I have a date with a girl I'm going to call 'Photo Booth'. She's pretty but we've barely talked so I really have no idea if we have much to talk about beyond basic attraction. I'll of course let you know.
x
She constantly ignored me as we queued for coffee. Constantly ignored me in the gym. Ignored me when we'd pass each other in the reception. This was irksome for me, and not because I hold myself up as noteworthy and in need of constant recognition by all those underlings who pass before me (I am, but everyone else is slow on the pick up of this). We worked in the same role in different parts of the same company. We had friends in common so I'd have expected something. But nope, she stuck resolutely to her plan of not noticing my friendly smile if I saw her about.
But a few years after I'd left that place I saw her in a restaurant where I was having a meeting, she was with some guys I knew so I went over and said hi. After this I was told she was asking after me, then a mutual friend said she thought I was hot. Which given my earlier experience of her came as a surprise.
About a year or so ago we exchanged a few messages on facebook, suggested a few dates for drinks but nothing came of it, something else always came up. But before Xmas just gone she wanted me to meet her and her boss to discuss a work related thing she thought I could help with. Whilst it was vaguely worthwhile, it was clearly just an excuse to meet up. We had a few drinks and talked business, her boss left, then a few more drinks, and we got on kinda well. I left to go meet up with some friends and got texts from her straight away saying it was lovely to meet and if I'd like to she'd love to meet up when I was back from S America. There were no games being played here.
Now here was a girl who was really pretty, tall, blonde, middle class and not short of attention. If I was to guess at her past, and yes I know this is awfully judgemental - but hey I'm not here to present a PC utopian view of my thoughts, it's the unedited workings of a mans brain the stuff we all think but don't say - I'd say she was a sports captain in some way (she's a runner), possible head girl but definite prefect material, would have gone out with a guy from the Uni 1st XV rugby team and in general had a pretty easy, non-challenging life. Because unfortunately: she was dull.
All too often I find that looks can spoil a girl - I guess they spend their whole lives getting what they want, being effortlessly popular, have guys laughing and smiling at whatever they say and girls defer to them for all of these reasons. In the same way you'll find that fat dudes are funny, these girls never really needed to develop a strong personality as such, so they didn't. In a similar way a lot of really hot girls are insecure messes. They're all too aware that they're hot, that they get treated in a certain way just because they're hot so it plays on their minds. Do they really like me or is it just because my cheekbones are really high, my eyes a perfect shade of azure jade, and my ass that makes men crash their cars in the summer. Now I'm of course generalising and exaggerating to some extent, but this is just based on my experience.
However, yes she may be a little bland, but she's also 6ft, blonde shoulder length hair, brown eyes, a mouth that's more of a pleasure to kiss than you'd think just from looking at it and she's in really good shape. Long legs, really tight ass that as a long distance runner you'd probably expect. So I'm not about to pass up finding out what I've wondered since I worked in that building...
We met for drinks the other week, got stuck into cocktails and general chit chat. We got drunk and carried on with chit chat. Then she suggested we get some coke, so I did. And we continued with the chit chat only with a higher volume of words thrown back and forth. And that was the problem, we didn't really get past chit chat. I'm not saying that I'm an intellectual colossus here, but I do like to think a little more than just basics and I like to be able to talk to a girl on a deeper level too. Plus she'd say that she thought I was maybe too cool for her. No, what she actually said was "I think maybe you're too cool for school!"
Too cool for school. What, am I dating my great aunt here?? Shuuushh....
For me at least, it was clear that whilst she was 'nice' (and she is totally nice, a cute lovely girl), it's also clear that we don't have much in common, from our cultural reference points - she likes euro-poppy techno and Kings of Leon, and I...well, I don't - through to our cultural values, whereas I like a grimy bar a run down area, she...well she thinks they're 'grimy' and 'run down' in a bad way.
However we'd not be the first people to kiss who weren't deeply compatible. And we won't be the last. We drunkenly left the bar, headed back for mine. Where we kissed a lot, she took all her clothes off except for her knickers which weren't going anywhere. This was a 'not messing about on the first night' kinda girl. Which is fair enough. But a little contrived when she was so obviously keen (I'm sorry, but the messages and attitude over the weeks had made us having sex at some point, a forgone conclusion), and when she's sending me flirty messages after, even asking me to come over a play. But still, each to their own so fair enough.
So on Thursday we had another date. This time in her neck of the woods "We can go for drinks and then head back to mine to play"- I was agreeable to the notion. We went to a bar which was typical South West London. The guys running it were well spoken, nice guys, but far too young to have set up the bar with anything other than family money, the 'cocktails' were spoofs or knock off imitations of the real thing, but the place wasn't too bad. It had a fair amount of taxidermy which seems to be everywhere nowadays, some decent tunes, and a guitarist playing sporadically throughout the night which was surprisingly alright. So we're getting on ok, are a few drinks in and she asks what I want to do later.
I say I'm not sure, what are the options, what does she want to do?
"I think I'd maybe like to take some drugs and then have a lot of sex?"
Now I have to say that this is not the sort of thing I would have expected from her. Yes we've had a few flirty texts, but she's really way too 'nice' for that sort of talk so this caught me off guard. In a good way. Turns out she'd got a gram of coke back at hers in preparation, lots of booze and the rest of it. Took me about a minute to pay for our tab and we were off on the bus back to hers.
I'm not sure if it's my ex still K affecting me (no doubt a little) or whether it's because I've begun to sate the hungry sexual beast inside me with a lot of wild and different sex, but I'm not quite so excited by it at the moment. The imminent prospect of sex used to give me a buzz, get me excited more than it seems to at the moment. Actually, maybe that's no entirely true - but it certainly was in this case with P. Ordinarily my mind would be all:
"Wooo-hooo!!! In about 20 minutes we're going to be naked and she is hot! I can't wait to see what her pussy tastes like. I wonder if she's going to be dirty? God I can't wait to fuck her, I wonder if she swallows" etc etc.
You see with P, it wasn't just the fact that there was no challenge to it at all. That's usually hot. If me and a girl have got on a wavelength where we're talking about the fact we're totally into fucking each other, then things move up a gear. It was that there was that spark missing between us. I've got to say it's the first time this has happened for me, a really hot girl who isn't getting me excited by the prospect of sex with her. Whilst P was nice, that's all she was, lukewarm.
We got back to hers, and it was fucking freezing. She'd forgotten to turn the heating on and last week London was bitterly cold. So the heater goes on, we open a bottle of red and sit at the dining table. She gets the coke out and I deal with it, crushing up the larger chunks with a credit card before grinding the rest out under a £20 note and chopping out two chubby lines for us. As the gak kicks in, the chat speeds up and the wine gets drained.
And you know what, I'm not even going to go into the specifics here because there's really nothing all that engaging to tell. The room just wouldn't warm up, so whilst we were soon on the sofa kissing, hands wondering - as the clothes came off it wasn't all that hot because it was so damn cold. We were there playing with each other under this pink fleece blanket and whilst she was actually more dextrous than I might have expected it wasn't all it could be had the heating been on (I'm talking about the experience here, not the size of my manhood thankfully. He rose to the occasion admirably). We fucked, for all of five minutes before returning to foreplay and kissing, as I just wasn't into it. The lack of any heat on all fronts had killed it.
We drank more, took down more lines and talked. One thing she asked actually made me think though.
"In a situation like this do you think coke brings you together or kind of isolates you?"
On any date where I've got on and we've been gakked up, yes of course we talk a lot and get on, and most of the time we go on to fuck all night, doing drunken coked up acts you'd not normally straight away. However sometimes it does rob you of your sex drive, or more to the point whilst you're getting on with someone it pushes some distance, a disconnect of some sort in there. It happened this night, and I realise now it happened with K a lot too.
K used to have a bit of an issue with drugs, nothing too serious, but enough for her to feel like she needed to drop a group of friends to get away from the cycle of parties and constant hedonism. She was a hipster if you will, a girl with a lot of money, exploring art, hanging around with scensters and had a predilection for getting high. I see now in hindsight that we brought out the worst in each other, and we'd do too much coke, the thin lines building to a gulf between us.
I'm going to end this post here, it's not been a very interesting one I know - mainly down to a non-interesting date, I'll dedicate an exploration of drugs and what not separately.
Tomorrow night I have a date with a girl I'm going to call 'Photo Booth'. She's pretty but we've barely talked so I really have no idea if we have much to talk about beyond basic attraction. I'll of course let you know.
x
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