Tuesday, November 30, 2004

I just can't get enough of you, baby

I can't get enough of blogging tonight, so I think I will share a recent experience with my new flame. I had the house to myself for a night a while ago, so I invited D come over. We killed some time together, did some homework and basically enjoyed each other's company.

Around midnight we decided it was time to go to bed. I put on my standard bed outfit: a pair of very thin lounge pants and a tiny black tank top that shows off my small, shapely breasts. He gazed at me approvingly while he undressed.

I love watching a man undress. Even when he does it matter-of-factly, it still turns me on. There's something about the way all those bits of skin are slowly exposed, one by one, that makes me want to lick and suck at every one of them.

D pulled his shirt over his head and gave me a little smile when he saw me staring at him. I've seen him shirtless many times but it still gives me a thrill. He has a beautiful upper body, exactly the kind I like: naturally muscular and broad-shouldered, with a wonderfully hairy chest and stomach. When he started to undo his belt I really took notice though. It was a line we had not crossed yet. He had seen me naked but he had never taken his pants off. I liked to think that he would not trust himself in that state of undress, with me.

I turned around to unmake my bed and he came up behind me, his chest against my back and the hard heat of his erection nudging the crack of my ass through my thin pants. His hands slid over the smooth fabric of my top, cupping my tits, rubbing the nipples with his thumbs and making them stand up, hard and insistent. An instant flush of heat flooded me. I felt his lips soft on my skin, and then his tongue on my neck, sending a shivery, trembling sensation down my spine.

We climbed into bed together with him in just his underwear, our warm skin meeting under cool sheets. He pulled me to him and we lay on our sides, my cheek pressed firmly to his chest, his cock rigid between us. It was driving me insane, that hard shaft. I ached to touch it, lick it, bury it inside me. But I didn't want to frighten him. (Don't startle the wildlife. Don't make any sudden movements.)

He had my clothes off in a matter of minutes and was touching me gently, his fingers light as feathers on my skin, firing my desire and making my pussy drip. His mouth descended and I watched him suck my nipple, a ridiculously beautiful sight in the glow of the outside streetlights. And then his hand travelled down, down...

We shifted and I straddled him, sure that my cunt must be dripping onto his belly; his finger was still grazing my clit, making me hazy with lust. I kissed his mouth, nibbled his earlobe, teased and licked and stroked all the places that I know drive him crazy. My nipples were painfully hard as they met the soft hair of his chest. I kissed him hard, ungently, a sort of frenzy overtaking me. I needed him.

Monday, November 29, 2004

A New Resolution

I stopped posting for a while, because the inspiration to write just hasn't been there. Plus, it's a little depressing that no one even reads this thing; at least, I'm reasonably sure no one reads it. I guess I need to start blogrolling, but I am so dense that I can't figure out how to make it work. Wow I am pathetic.

I'm in a different place than I was a few months ago when I wrote the first stuff on this blog. I've broken up with the guy I thought was The One. Turns out, I don't know what the hell he was, but he was definitely not The One. So I am on to greener pastures. Specifically, the guy in the last post. D.

He is wonderful. More than wonderful. It has been a long time since I've been so absolutely moony over a guy. He has to be the best lover I have had in a long time. But I use the term 'lover' very loosely. He's a virgin and is not planning on changing that until he gets married.

Being the horny slut that I am, that frustrates the hell out of me. I am a firm believer that you should never deny yourself sex (except maybe to heighten the pleasure at a later date, if that sort of thing is your bag.) But two people who desperately want to fuck shouldn't refrain because of some archaic rules involving a priest and a piece of paper. I'm religious, and some people will want to stone me for this, but I'm pretty sure God wants us to have sex. Good sex. Lots of it. Provided, of course, that it is between people who respect and trust one another. After all, sex is love, and God is all about love. And God invented sex, for chrissakes. I don't understand how anyone can call it dirty or wrong, in any of its varied and glorious forms. But I digress.

However, even though his refusal to have premarital sex frustrates me, I sort of admire him for it. Whether or not I agree with his views, his self-control is enviable. I wish I had the kind of will-power that he has. Maybe I will blog an example of this later on. Because he really is amazing. And sexy. Argh.

I, on the other hand, have no self-control. I go wherever the wind takes me pretty much. If I feel like doing something, I do it, for the most part. I'm hoping that somehow he will rub off on me, because this lack of control can get me into some pretty sticky situations.

Anyways, my new resolution is to blog more. Because I have a million thoughts floating around in my head that are bursting to get out.

It's been a while but here's a little something new

D, my beautiful, perfect man. I am going to contradict myself, because you are not perfect. Nor are you particularly beautiful, not to the world in general. But to me you are both of these things. You are so kind, and so charmingly unsure of yourself. But sometimes you are confident, blindingly so, and I know that nothing can happen to me while I am in your care. It is too early for me to love you, and yet I cannot stop thinking the words. I love your wide, smooth brow and gold-flecked eyes. I love your crooked little smile, and the way you bite your lip when you are thinking about something. I love your body, so well made and utterly masculine, the dark hair on your chest and stomach soft, like the hair on your head. It makes me wonder about your other hair, as well. Sometimes, I must admit, I want to tear all your clothes off and make love to you; I want to ride you hard until you can’t remember your own name. But I will respect your wishes. I will restrain myself under your caresses, which are gentle and tentative but nonetheless sear my skin like fire. I will remain in control when your hand wanders lower, and your finger coyly grazes my clit as I grow more and more moist. But when I feel you getting hard it is almost more than I can stand. It is proof positive that you want me, and I want to refer to it triumphantly: “you cannot argue with biology.” But one can, and you do, and it is part of what I love about you. That does not erase the fact that I want to make you cum with my mouth and hands, I want you to cry my name and feel things you have never felt before. I want to have you in my power, and likewise be in yours. Maybe it will never happen. But that is what I want.