All Sexed Up and No Place to Go...

Coming Together

2005-10-06T10:12:00.000-07:00

"Darling...what are you doing?"

If that question has been asked...it probably didn't need to be asked in the first place.

I will never forget the first time. The first time I heard him, on the other end of the phone. I think what was most agonizingly attractive to me was his utter inability to speak coherently...to finish a thought.

My hand immediately wandered.

This first time, I tried to "time," things. I anticipated when I thought he might be "ready," and behaved accordingly. Unfortunately for me, I lack the self-discipline to do this, effectively. There's a certain point I reach where I cannot stop myself. And I got there before he did.

But lately...time after time, my trying has been completely unnecessary. In fact, the last thing on my mind is usually where we "are," in proximity to one another. And lately, it hasn't mattered. Every time we've been coming together.

I'm afraid I'm addicted to this...to the sound of him expressing exactly how I feel in that moment.

The Look

2005-07-25T23:18:00.000-07:00

If nothing else, I will always be haunted by your look.

Oh God...just picturing your face with that look on it makes me want to stop writing this right now and frig myself into oblivion. And...I've never been one to fantasize whilst masturbating.

I wish you could see it. It's this spectacular blend of child-like mischievousness, mixed with a kind of innocence...but at the same time, it's entirely seductive. And it's almost all in your eyes.

You know...often people have tried to find some kind of "sweet spot" on me...a weakness that, when touched/kissed/licked, etc...I will falter to, every time. The truth is, there is nothing...nothing that will work every time. Because that seems to place an expectation on me...that is, if I react one way, one time, that I'll do it every time. Besides...I rather enjoy it that something has been done, without one's knowledge, that excites me so. That's part of what excites me.

But I think I found my weakness. Really, it meets all the "qualifications." It's something that conveys to me exactly what's on your mind. It's something that, when I see it, I'm immediately aroused. It's something that you don't even know you're doing. And it's something that happens to you, without you even realizing it. I've never seen anything like it before.

Your look, Darling, is my weakness.

Lights, Cameras, Action!

2005-07-15T10:10:00.000-07:00

I don't exactly put on a "show."

In fact, it's almost unintelligible that whatever is going on down there is doing anything for me at all, until I'm about to orgasm. And the tell-tell signs are incredibly subtle.

There is no uncontrollable moaning. I don't go writhing all over the place. I'm generally very, very focused...because in those moments of pleasure I experience the only "mind vacation" that I'm ever able to obtain. And I don't want to be distracted.

What does happen, then? At first, my breathing changes slightly. It gets very deep, and rhythmic (with a few gasps intertwined here and there). Secondly, I always have to grab on to something. And usually that will be his arm(s)...and when something is going on that I've taken a liking to, I'll start squeezing, progressively tighter. Finally there's, what I consider to be, the most important sign...my lower back tenses. Yet this is the one that's easily missed. But once my lower back tenses, I'm getting close...extremely close.

Honestly, the orgasm itself is the closest resemblance to a show, as far as I'm concerned. And that's just because my entire body "ticks," and it's completely uncontrollable. These "ticks" just...ripple throughout my body, and they will not end until all stimulation has ceased.

But...I can't help thinking that this is going to disappoint.

How Did You Know?

2005-06-06T18:43:00.000-07:00

Sometimes, I don't want to be pretty.

Sometimes what I want is for you to feel like you have to have me, right then and there...and for you to be filled with with such passion and desire for me that it becomes impossible for you to do anything BUT act on those feelings.

Trust me, I won't be offended.

What I LOVE about you is that you left...you left, when you knew damn good and well what I had in mind. You saw the expression on my face...you felt the curiousity in my touch...you heard the sublte moaning behind each kiss.

You had nothing to prove to me, you said, later...because *I* already understand that the feelings you posses for me are not purely physical. No, you wanted to prove to yourself that you could leave. That you could deny both of us something we so obviously wanted, not even knowing for sure the next time we would be able to see each other. And that is insanely sexy. Tell me, how did you know to play such games with me?

How did you know this would fill my mind with thoughts of you, so that every ounce of restraint in myself is required to keep me from just, arriving at your house, completely unannounced? Depriving me of you...I've resorted to fantasy. And I don't fantasize. It's much more likely for me to simply play things that have happened, over and over. But I don't have that with you, yet. Our experience together is extremely limited, and this has caused my mind to wander. How did you know to do this to me?

To make me fantasize about the day you finally surrender your "gentleman-ly ways." The day you become so completely overwhelmed with physical desire for me, that not even YOU can stop yourself from having your way with me. You are letting me want you. And this is making me long for the time that I have you.

New Panties, Anyone?

2005-06-01T22:53:00.000-07:00

Even my panties remind me of ToFu.

There is not one pair of panties I own that he would not be able to recognize, simply by slipping his hand into my jeans and fingering the fabric or the cut. How can someone "new" slide me out of my pants to reveal a pair of panties I know that ToFu is so intimately familiar with?

Yesterday, I did something about this.

Sure, I only went into the store because I saw a big sign that read, "Shoes: Buy one pair, get another half off!" And I had been looking for a new pair of flip flops...but two would be even nicer. So, I wandered into the store and right into a huge bin of panties, 5 for $15.

Hmm....new panties, I thought. And I realized that new panties might be a very significant milestone for me. What I need are new panties that HE is not so familiar with. So, I rummaged through the panties and picked out five of them, with the intent that HE will never see them on me. In fact, I bought them with someone else in mind, entirely.

Don't worry, I found my two pairs of shoes. And, uh, a purse. But what's important about this is that I walked into the store for a new pair of shoes...and I walked out feeling like I had a completely different life. Perhaps that is a little dramatic, but it's a significant gesture that I made, for myself.

Sigh...

2005-05-24T11:58:00.000-07:00

I'm experiencing the most...horrible lack of inspiration to blog, lately. And it makes me sad.

Actually, that's a little misleading. Honestly I have several "topics" running around in my head right now...but I'm having a difficult time figuring out how to express them.

The transition from school back to home always does strange things to my head. I go from worrying about school, papers, exams...to having absolutely nothing to do (minus looking around, and not very actively yet, for a job).

And it's not like I haven't been "sexually charged" as of late...I've had a fiddle almost every night before going to sleep since I got home from college, which is unusual for me (to do it with such consistency, anyway).

However, I have completely made up my mind that either later today or tomorrow I will produce a post...because I can. My lack of motivation is NOT the boss of me! Hee hee!

And besides, I really, really want to blog about something before I go out of town on Thursday. I'll be back on Tuesday, but there will be absolutely no way I can write anything whilst I'm gone...so I want to try to get at least one thing that's inside, out, before I leave.

Remember Who?

2005-05-03T21:02:00.000-07:00

There's only been one person in my 20 years (excluding myself) who has brought me to orgasm...nay, there has only been one person who has ever even tried to bring me to orgasm. Likewise, this is the only person I have ever brought (or even tried to bring) to orgasm. And in the midst of my five year relationship demise, I can't help but wonder...I would say I've had a LOT of experience with sexual activities (all but intercourse, anyway), yet all of my experience is with the same person.

I'm expressing this concern NOT because I am worried about my ability to pleasure someone else in the future (nor my ability to respond to someone who is pleasuring me)...no, what I'm bothered by is this: when will I be able to engage in sexual activities and not think of him? I'm so used to him, so comfortable with him, and I've never experienced anyone else in this way. Therefore, I'm having trouble distinguishing between the concepts "this is the way I give head" and "this is the way I give ToFu head."

I'm perfectly aware that every guy might not enjoy the same things he did, but won't I "instinctively" begin sucking a new guy's dick the same way I did his? And if so, how could it not remind me of him?

I'm having a hard time getting over this.

Rubber Duckie, You're the One...

2005-04-25T23:02:00.000-07:00

I allowed my robe to fall to the ground, and he beheld (for the first time) my nakedness. I searched for an expression change on his face, but could find none. Holding his gaze, I stepped one leg after the other into the tub, and lowered myself in the bubble bath. I sunk my entire body under the water, wetting my hair. After surfacing and wiping my eyes, I found that he had decided to join me.

He took my face tenderly in his hands and kissed my lips. He pulled my naked body into his, and I grabbed for his cock. I wrapped my legs around his back and slid myself up to him. I stopped kissing him so I could look into his eyes while I guided the head of his dick to the opening of my pussy.

Still no change. I inched further and further down his cock until our stomachs were touching - my breasts pressed against his chest. Nothing.

Suddenly his breath quickened, and he grabbed my ass forcefully in his hands.

"Help me get up," he said, and my heart dropped. Oh no, I freaked him out, I thought. I began to untangle my legs from him when he stopped me. "No...stay exactly how you are."

That's when I realized he wanted our bodies to remain in the instance they were...but to relocate where something could be done about it. Certainly the bath tub was not the place.

We scrambled out of the tub, my legs wrapped tightly around him. Supporting my weight by holding my ass, he carried me through the door into my bedroom. He plopped me onto the bed on my back, and and fell on top of me, pushing his cock completely inside.

It's Funny How Things Work Out...

2005-04-19T09:37:00.000-07:00

I came to a point over these last few weeks where I almost regretted having sex with ToFu - and I don't have regrets. Mainly because we only did it once, and it was the night before he left. Why couldn't I just have denied him, myself, one more night? Then he would've been off to Italy, our virginities in tact. And all of this wouldn't be so hard.

Of course, had I not known he was capable of making love to me, all the whilst knowing I was believing all of his lies, I might not be where I am today. Having made the decision I made. Don't get me wrong, there were issues before...LOTS of them. But I finally got to the point, because of this, that I could do something about it, and not be afraid.

Besides all that, we did used to always say that should we go our separate ways, we'd have sex, anyway. First of all, because we'd waited so long for each other, and it seemed only fair. And second of all, we just couldn't imagine losing our virginities to anyone else. But the more I thought about it, and the more we FOUGHT, and the unhappier I got, I realized...we could never have sex on the verge of a break up. I can't even bring myself to suck his dick when I'm unhappy with him.

But over spring break, everything really was perfect. I truly believe I felt exactly the way I needed to feel, and the sex itself was certainly not bad. And besides, I honestly believe that everything happens for a reason. I know we were supposed to have sex that night. And I'm okay with that.

It was the last thing we did, together, before things ended. Sometimes I think it had to happen so this could end.

Having him in Italy is making it easier for us to not be together (obviously). What I mean is, I'm looking at the time, physically separated, for the next few weeks as "training wheels." Because it's when he comes back that things are going to be difficult.

I didn't want to have this conversation, first thing when he came back. Especially since I'd already made my decision. I didn't want to let the shock of seeing him again after so long overwhelm how I know I feel - and to an extent, have always felt - about this relationship. I refuse to let the vicious cycle start itself over again. I don't want to be unhappy anymore.

But this is far from having been an easy decision for me to make. All the times I stood in the shower, allowing my tears to merge with the water enveloping me...dreading having to tell him. However, last night after I did, I climbed into my bed, and was surprised to find myself feeling...content. Content with my decision. Content in no longer knowing anything about my future with certainty.

It's interesting...when I could look forward and know everything to expect in my life, I felt the most dead. I'm not going to marry my Barry.

Shamless Plug for my Plug

2005-04-15T13:04:00.000-07:00

I had never heard of this Fleshbot website until yesterday, when I noticed a dramatic increase in my traffic. And while I'm not too sure what was so spectacular about my "Hump Day" post that it was featured in the best of the best sex blog round up, but I guess that means I must be doing something right. Either way, there I am! I'll just consider it an early birthday present (yes, I know, I'm real special lady). Well, it's home for me now to celebrate my turning 20 tomorrow with family and friends. Ta for now.

Hump Day

2005-04-13T12:49:00.000-07:00

I think I wanna buy a t-shirt!

Seriously though, browsing around this website has inspired me to post a few things about my vagina.

My pubic regoin received a haircut recently. Honestly though, sometimes I like to let things get a little unruly down there just so that I can enjoy the new, smooth feeling after I do some gardening. I keep the hair on the top trimmed and in its natural, small trapezoid shape (ridding the area of the few wandering strands), but everything below is completely hairless. I love the comforting feeling of the soft, hairless labia between my thighs, especially when I snuggle into my bed at night (and since I've stopped wearing panties to bed).

Besides all that, being freshly shaven beckons my fingers to wander down south more often than they usually might. Which brings me to my main reason for this post about my vagina...how my masturbation techniques have evolved over time.

I'm not someone you can ask when they started masturbating - I can't ever remember not masturbating, nor can I recall the first time I did. Of course, I didn't know what I was doing or why at the time, but looking back it's obvious that's what it was.

When I was a little girl...and I mean a little girl...I would fall asleep every night with my little blanket between my index finger and thumb - for some reason feeling the material between my fingers was soothing enough to put me to sleep. But that's not all I used this blanket for. On many occassions I would ball the blanket up and prop it under my groin area whilst I was on my stomach, and then I would move my hips up and down, back and forth, side to side, etc., until I brought myself to orgasm (which I now know was because of the indirect stimulation to my clitoris). Well, I didn't know it was an orgasm, but I knew that it felt good, and after I reached a certain point (which I did recognize as some kind of "release"), I could continue humping the blanket all day long and nothing would happen again. Oddly enough though, if I repositioned the blanket underneath me, I could make myself feel it again, though (and even now this baffles me).

Eventually, however, I gave up my security blanket and graduated to pillows. At this point I would simply bunch a pillow up and prop it underneath, go through the same motions, and reach the same result. And it was somewhere in this phase that I realized what I was doing - I was masturbating.

Of course, I also found out that most girls were able to bring themselves to orgasm manually. I attempted this a few times myself, with no such luck. So, I just decided to stick to my own method for the time being. Which was fine, until my relationship transitioned into a more sexual one (not vaginal intercourse, but just oral sex and mutual masturbation). And he could never make me come, because I didn't know how to come.

So, one night, about a year and a half ago, I decided that I was going to make myself. I climbed into my bed hours after my roommate had fallen asleep and slipped my hand into my panties. I began feeling around for something - anything, that I could recognize as pleasurable. And finally I found it - the spot on my clitoris that I have come to love and know so well. I tried stimulating it in several different ways, by moving my finger up and down, or side to side, until I unknowingly stumbled into a circular motion...and and I knew that this was going to work. I continued with these circular motions until I was on the brink of climaxing, and the orgasm I attained frightened me, to the point that I had to stop. The feeling I was able to achieve from masturbating this way completely overwhelmed my pillow humping, and frankly, I had never expected anything to feel that intense. I was unaware that it could.

And I haven't pillow humped since.

Tell Me...

2005-04-11T15:35:00.000-07:00

I realized before he even reached my house that I wasn't nervous about seeing him...I was terrified that he might tell me.

My dog barked, and I knew he had arrived. I walked over to the front door and opened it slightly to see him making his way to my porch.

And it was not what I had expected. Since the last time I saw him he'd lost a good 60 pounds (and he did used to be a touch chubby), he'd cut off that damn pony-tail, and his hair was spikey.

Holy fuck.

We retreated to my room, and the moment the door closed behind us, he took me into his arms, not saying anything. And I thought he might tell me.

But he didn't, and we got comfy on my bed to watch a movie.

Somewhere during the movie, though, I noticed that he was looking at me. He began gently brushing my face with his fingers - he used to always do that before he kissed me. And I thought he might tell me.

But some things don't change, I guess. And rather than telling me, he kissed me so gently that, had I not seen him lean in, I might not have felt his lips. His kisses slowly grew heavier until our mouths sunk completely together.

My hands began exploring his back, his arms, and I realized how completely adorable his body was. He moved his lips from my mouth, down my face, to my neck, and stopped to nibble. I felt his fingers gliding over my stomach, and, as slowly as he'd progressed his kisses with me, his hand traveled up to my chest.

This surprised me, actually. He'd always been the shy type, and I honestly didn't think he'd have the balls to journey anywhere underneath my clothing. But when he maneuvered his hand behind me and unhooked my bra, I understood...he knows what he's doing.

"What are you thinking?" he asked at this time, and I was shocked by how much he reminded me of myself, in similar situations.

I looked at him and smiled. "I'm thinking you aren't going to like my boobs."

"What?" he asked. "Let me explain something to you about guys and boobs," he continued. "They're boobs...and unless your nipples are pointing to the ground, or something, I can't imagine how I could NOT like them..."

I slipped my bra out of my shirt sleeve, and his hands tenderly explored my breasts. He pressed his lips back to mine, immediately resuming where we had left off. I loved the way each breast fell pefectly into a handful, and suddenly I became aware that I was rather enjoying the attention he was giving to them.

He moved his lips gradually from my mouth to my chest, and then paused to uncover my breasts from my shirt. My heart stopped - I'm always fearful of a guy's first reaction. He didn't say anything though, he simply fluttered his lips and tongue so lightly over my nipples that I could hardly feel it - and, as had been his routine, delicately increased the pressure of his mouth.

And it happened. I realized how fucking turned on I was by this. How it didn't produce that uncomfortable feeling in the pit of my stomach that I've come to expect from any concentration on my nipples. Then I glanced down at him and noticed how incredibly sexy he looked doing this. His eyes met mine for a minute, and I asked if it bothered him to be watched. He simply raised his eyebrows and shook his head.

He had managed to completely make me forget about it and how he was not telling me...

You are Columbus and I am America, discover me, Ramon, discover me!

2005-04-08T17:03:00.000-07:00

The folks over at Private Booth have taken notice of my little ol’ blog, and asked to republish some of my writing there. If you haven’t browsed around the site yourself already, Private Booth is basically just a very eclectic collection of writings about real sexual experiences and practices. Today my “shower orgasm” escapade is being featured. Go check it out!

Study Session...

2005-04-06T21:32:00.000-07:00

I glanced at him over the books and spirals scattered across my coffee table. I felt a lump rise in my throat, and I thought...he has to know how inexplicably sexy I find him...

I listened as he rambled on about Hume, until finally, he looked up at me, too. He stopped talking.

Without transferring my stare, I climbed over my coffee table and pushed his body back on the futon. I inched my face closer to his and paused before kissing him, desperately trying to feel his take on my gesture.

He didn't let me question for long though - he grabbed the back of my neck and pulled my mouth to his, devouring my lips.

Fuck me, Please

2005-03-29T16:54:00.000-08:00

I knew last night when I went to bed that I was going to wake up feeling shitty today. And I did. Call it self-fulfilling prophechy if you will, but the gobs of Vitamin C tablets I took last night didn't seem to do much for me today. Of course, who knows if I'd awoken to feel much worse, had I not taken any? Not I, that's for sure.

Either way, I reckon a nice fuck would do me good. Now, I know I have little experience in this area as the situation stands, but I don't imagine it could make make me feel much worse. Besides all that, I've spent much time at Rentboy's Diaries, and while I've always been intrigued by his blog, I never really sat down to start from the beginning until today. And so, I've found that my "sick day" has inevitably turned into a "longing to be fucked day."

I swear to you, right now, someone is playing the bagpipes outside.

It's not the congestion of being sick that I can't stand...it's the achiness. I HATE feeling achey. It makes me not want to do anything...and I didn't go to either of my classes today (shame on me!). Ahem.

But when I got in the shower, shortly after getting out of bed, the constant drone of the water all over my body made me feel even achier, and I thought to myself...damn, I need to have an orgasm. Now, I've been feeling too lethargic today to even think about playing with myself, so I thought I'd just relax and let the water pressure do its job. My shower is my friend.

And all the while today I've just been obssessed with how badly I want to be fucked. But I just want to lie there and take it - I want it to be all about me, and perhaps this is where my fascination with Rentboy comes in, today of all days.

Now, "I want it to be all about me," should not be misconstrued as, "I don't care if he gets off." Because I do. In fact, part of what's been turning me on today is the ambiguousness of domination. For example, if I paid Rentboy to tie all of my appendages down and use my body as his fucktoy...well, who would have the control? He, or I?

Instead of Reading 30 Pages Of Berkeley...

2005-03-27T23:18:00.000-08:00

...I've decided to compose a rather descriptive post on my breasts.

I was somewhat of a late bloomer...whatever late is. Of course, I could just be under the impression that I was late because I attended school with mostly black people...and well, black girls tend to develop quicker than white girls. Besides all that, I was in gymnastics practically from the time I could walk until I was 13 (and yes, I've managed to retain a considerable amount of bendiness...).

So, I really had no breasts until I quit the whole gymanstics thing...at which point everything seemed to happen simultaneously...pubic hair, height, period...breasts...but I won't expound on the formers.

Actually, when I was a little girl my friends were all convinced I was going to have huge boobs. I think it's mainly because my nipples were fairly larger than most of my friends, even as a child. Looking back, I'm slightly amused that I was so aware of the size of my nipples...but never of the color. Then again, I'm not sure I would have noticed the size discrepancies had my friends not pointed them out. And while my other friends possessed red or brown nipples...I didn't give much thought to mine being pink.

However, I am proud to report that my breasts grew nicely into my nipples. And my friends were all right - my boobs are bigger than theirs (although I by no means think that nipple size will determine breast size). But this offered little to no consolation to me after I became mortified with the color of my nipples.

Thanks to ToFu for this.

ToFu was the first male to ever see my breasts, and it wasn't anything intimate. To make a long story short, I was "dating" (I was hardly 14, and we hadn't been "dating" long) ToFu's best friend, and the very first day ToFu and I were introduced, the three of us played "Strip Thirty-one" to entertain ourselves. I lost numerous times, but was ridiculously frightened to show them my breasts. ToFu was incessant that I flash them, however...because, after all, I'd lost. Well, ToFu only had his boxers left anyway, so I demanded one more freebie (I had only learned to play "Thirty-one" that day), and they agreed. Oddly enough, ToFu lost the next game, but complained that it wasn't fair because I'd gotten so many freebies. So we all agreed that whoever lost the next game HAD to show something (although my boyfriend at the time was still practically fully clothed). Of course I lost. So I whined and cried and told ToFu that if he showed me his dick, that I'd show him my boobies. I guess he really wanted to see my boobies because he agreed to this little arrangement...and ToFu's was the first penis I ever saw. Even then it was pretty, but I won't bother you with that. (In case there was any speculation, my boyfriend had left the room to do whatever, I don't really remember, and it's irrelevant...either way, he saw neither ToFu's penis nor my breasts.) And so, there was nothing left for me to do except flash ToFu. So I did, for several seconds. And I'll never forget the perplexed look on his face. So I quickly pulled my shirt down.

"Wait, I didn't get a good enough look...do that again," he told me. I rolled my eyes, but complied.

My attempt to summarize those events did little to shorten the story.

It wasn't until much later, after we'd gotten together, that I would learn about his fascination with my pink nipples. He told me how he's seen red nipples, brown nipples, etc., but never pink ones.

Of course, this did nothing for me except draw attention to the fact that I was different.

Guys don't seem to mind, however. But I always thought they were just tolerant of my nipples. It's as if I figured they thought my nipples were kind of weird...but nipples, nonetheless. So why complain, pink, large, or not?

But lately I've been coming around to my nipples. My once-considered-peculiar (to me) pink nipples, similar in diamater to half dollars (areola included), setting off breasts that perfectly fill the cups in my size 34C bras. Sure, my right breast is slightly larger than my left, but it's nothing too noticable, short of thorough examination. And, there's a small scar on the underside of the nipple of my left breast that I acquired from a cat scratch when I was barely six years old. Oh, and I can often see my left breast vibrate from my heartbeat. Is that weird?

Because Sometimes...I Ramble

2005-03-23T13:18:00.000-08:00

I've been having really weird dreams lately, but last night's were just...

First of all, I'm a freak about my bed (and this is in real life). I hate making my bed, and the side of my bed is up against the wall in my dorm...so I basically just peel back the covers in a diagonal and get in on the side that isn't against the all (well duh), and then when I get up in the morning, I just flip the covers back up. Ta-da! I hate it...absolutely hate it, if the covers come untucked from between my bed and the wall. It's a terrible inconvenience for me.

Well, in my dream, my roommate and I are getting ready for class...and she just waltzes over to my bed and rips the covers out of the crevice between my bed and and the wall...just to be mean (but she's really not mean). And so I freak out and start asking why she would do that because she knows how much it bothers me, etc.

She just laughs.

For some reason in my dream my roommate drives a bus, and we always just ride in the bus around town but take the car home. I'm not sure how she got the school bus to fit in the parking garage, but I wasn't too concerned with this is my dream. Either way, we were just walking along outside when we noticed a group of people looking up at a plane that was flying overhead...and then suddenly there was just this huge explosion, and everyone started scrambling about. Well, my roommate and I deciced it was definitely time to leave, so we started arguing over whether or not to take the school bus or the car. We finally settled on the car because, after all, we were leaving to go home.

That dream pretty much ended there, but another one started not too long after.

In this dream I was with ToFu, and we were just sitting on his bed in his house. Except that his bed nor his house looked anything like his bed or his house in actuality...but I didn't realize that in my dream. In my dream I felt like everything was normal, even the fact that he was here, and not in Italy.

Well, his family was getting ready to go on a trip somewhere, and we were just lounging on his bed, watching TV. My pants were off for some reason, even though nothing sexual was happening. Actually, come to think of it, I think my panties were off as well. Because when his dad barged in the room ToFu yelled at him to get out because he didn't want him to see my pubic hair. (Of all the things to be worried about?) To which his dad replied that if he wanted to see my pubic hair, he could. In fact, if he wanted to touch my pubic hair, he could, he said. I laughed at this, not because I was offended or disgusted, and retorted that he would never touch my pubic hair! I'm guessing this came off sounding like some kind of dare, because when I hopped off the bed and slipped into my panties, ToFu's dad slid his hand into them, barely grazing the top of the line where my pubic hair begins. I was shocked, and gasped! But I wasn't bothered.... He winked at me like it was our secret, or something, because ToFu hadn't seen.

Well, I said ToFu's house was different in this dream...and it definitely was because there was a McDonald's or something attached right on to his house. So, after his family left, we wandered over to the McDonald's for whatever reason. I'm not really sure. Either way, there was a bathtub in the McDonald's, and we just filled the tub with water, stripped our clothes off, and relaxed in it. I remember suggesting to him that we have sex in the bathtub, but he told me that we couldn't do that because his grandmother was in the room. Sure enough, behind the tub there was a little old lady who looked nothing like either of ToFu's grandmothers. In fact, she looked more like Joey's grandmother who speaks no English (on Friends). I told him that he was right, we couldn't have sex in front of his grandmother. So I asked if we could just go back to his bedroom, in his house, since his family was gone. And he complained that his bed was too small (even though it was at least a full size bed). I don't know why he would say that, honestly. But I started rubbing myself against his dick in the tub, and I guess he finally got the message that I was serious...I wanted to fuck...right then. So we got ourselves out of the bathtub and I headed back towards his bedroom...when I noticed that he'd simply sat himself down at a table and ordered a bowl of queso. By that time I was angry, and that's all I remember.

This wasn't the first dream I've had about ToFu's dad. Actually, I've had dreams about other dads of guys that I've been with. The thing about me is, I find myself attracted to guys whose dad I...appreciate. I'm picky about my word choice here because I, in no way, want the wrong message to be conveyed here. It's like, I have respect for ToFu's dad...I adore who he is, as a person, as a man, as a husband, as a father. And I know I give ToFu a hard time about the likeness he portrays of his dad, but the truth is...it turns me on (and not always in a sexual way). It turns me on to the idea of him, of us, in our future. Honestly, I love that he resembles his dad - it gives me something to look forward to.

But I think sometimes my "dream conscience" takes it too far. My dream conscience wants to make my feelings about ToFu's dad something that they are not. But I am secure enough in how I view this that the awkwardness I feel after such a dream fades away throughout the day.

So, HA HA, dream conscience.

Some Things Don't Change

2005-03-20T18:18:00.000-08:00

While my virginity status has changed, the fact that I have no place to go...still hasn't.

It's bittersweet, really.

ToFu decided suddenly to come home for Spring Break (he's been in Italy for the past two months), and I was nervous as hell about seeing him. I figured he was either going to look tremendously more postive or negative than I had remembered...

When I finally saw him I wanted to fuck the shit out of him right there in Baggage Claim (but I didn't figure that would go over to well with his parents). Either way, he provoked within me a sense of strange familiarity (if that makes any sense, to anyone), and it was easily the most horny he had ever made me (without trying - which is essential with me - but that's for another time).

It's amazing we didn't have sex sooner in the week, honestly (because I was the one that was all over him for awhile), and it almost happened a few times before it actually happened. The first couple of days he was here things progressed like we were going to have sex...but I stopped them and begged him not to fuck me, and then leave me (he'd just be returning to Italy for yet another two months at the end of the week). And he understood my concern.

But somehow on Saturday night I wasn't as bothered. And we had sex. While we were watching Aladdin. Hmm....

Frankly, it was pretty damn good. Maybe that's why this time, I couldn't stop him. Why I demanded that he not stop.

I cried afterwards. Not because I felt guilt for having had sex or for losing my virginity. Not because I felt soooo in love. But because now, he was just going to leave me again. I was getting fucked, then left. We waited five damn years to finally have sex, and all the while we were together almost every day...but now, when he's been 6,000 miles away from me for the past two months...and when he's just going to be 6,000 miles away from me the for the next two months...now, is when we decide to have sex for the first time.

But in a weird way that works for us. It was kind of like saying, "Goodbye for now..." while at the same time saying, "Look at what's to come..."

In the meantime, my sexual curiousity has reached an all time peak. We only did it once, and I'm fascinated that I enjoyed it so much. Now, more than ever, I want to experiment with sex, and there is no one around to fuck! Whatever is a girl to do?

Which is why the title All Sexed Up and No Place to Go still applies, for now. Because for the next two months, that shall be more true than ever.

It's "Fabricate Your Own Ending" Story-Time

2005-03-07T18:28:00.000-08:00

And maybe one day I'll reveal what actually happens.

I told him to be waiting for me, and that I'd be back in a couple of hours, but I didn't expect to find what I did upon my return. Mainly because I'd brought my friend home with me.

She just thought he'd been in my bed, napping, until I got back. But I looked at him and noticed the eagerness in his face as she sat at my computer desk and began signing onto to miscellaneous messenging programs and checking her email.

I leaned in close to him, to kiss him "hello."

"I'm tied to your bed," he whispered in my ear, between gritted teeth.

"What?" I murmured back, and then felt undearneath my pillows that were concealing his wrists...tied to my bed post with the sash of my bathrobe.

I gave him a "what are we going to do," look, and she kept typing away on my computer.

"It gets better..." he whispered again. "I'm naked."

What is it With Guys and Make-up...

2005-02-26T11:54:00.000-08:00

That drives me completely insane? Few things are sexier to me than a guy wearing make-up.

How fucking hot is this?

This realization has actually brought upon several ephiphanies concerning my taste in men. For example, I now know why I preferred Hayden Christensen in the beginning of Life as a House as opposed to the end. (I apologize that it isn't the greatest of pictures, but it was the best that I could do.) I understand why I was completely enamored with Tim Curry in Rocky Horror Picture Show. Furthermore, I had never taken notice of Alan Cumming until I saw Titus. Now, I couldn't find a picture of him as Saturninus, but I am rather fond of this one.

Now, I know what you're thinking. Tim Curry also wore make-up in IT - however, I wasn't as impressed with the whole clown ensemble. Maybe it was just me.

Perhaps this all just has to do with my fettish for feminine guys. Although...I can't deny that another thing that attracts me to Marilyn Manson is his voice (which, is quite masculine). Still, I can't help looking at this picture...

...and admiring how pretty he is.

And I am having a particularly difficult time tearing my eyes away from this one:

Fuck me.

MY Kind of Pick-Up Line

2005-02-24T11:55:00.000-08:00

My pussy gleamed. The objection/question he'd raised to the professor's explanation of what Leibniz was asserting was so exceptionally profound in its simplicity that I could hardly contain the smile spreading throughout my lips. My hand slid over to the spiral where he was jotting his notes, and I wrote, "You are brilliant. Wanna fuck?"

I allowed my eyes to wander over to his, but could make no discernable expression from his face. He was still staring staight forward at the professor, and taking notes as he ordinarily would. I glanced back at his spiral to affirm what I had written - and that's when I noticed it - out of the corner of my eye, the shape of his erection beneath his jeans.

I turned my attention quickly toward the front of the classroom, but my heart was racing, my palms were sweaty. I struggled to continue with my note-taking, but I could no longer focus on any of the words leaving the professor's mouth. I fumbled for a moment with my pen before finally resting it on my spiral, in surrender.

I took a glimpse at the time...five more minutes. Five more minutes of listening to my pussy throb. Five more minutes in the agony of knowing were both aching for one another.

Finally students started gathering their things in preparation to leave. I quickly jumbled my papers and notes into my backpack and threw it on my shoulders.

* * * * *

The door opened abruptly to my room. We let ourselves inside and he immediately took me in his arms right inside the "hallway" of my room, just as the door closed behind us. He grabbed my arms and pulled me in close to him, pausing to look into my eyes, at my face, before allowing my mouth to sink into his. Our book bags fell to the floor, and he pushed me gently against the wall in the "hall." He raised his hands up to my face, lightly combing my hair back with his fingers as I pressed my tongue into his mouth. His tongue received mine splendidly, and together they swirled about our mouths, until it became difficult for me to distinguish whose was whose.

When he felt me fumbling to remove his pants, he reached down to liberate me from my own. I switfly kicked off my shoes and allowed him to peel the jeans off of my legs. He followed this by unfastening the buttons on my shirt and then sliding it down my arms, to the floor. He paused again, momentarily, taking in every curve, every angle of my body...and, after doing so, pulled his dick through the open fly in his pants.

He slammed me slightly harder against the wall before plunging his tongue back into my mouth. Reaching down and gripping my thighs, he pulled my feet out from under me and wrapped my legs secrurely around his waist. His hands wandered down to my dripping pussy, where he delicately shoved my panties to the side and created a path for him to enter me.

He stablized my weight by grabbing the bottom of my ass and impaling me with his cock, all the while maintaining the pressure of my body against the wall; he proceeded to thrust in and out, smashing me further into the wall with every relentless stroke. I ground my fingers into his back as the cries of pleasure escaped my lips - and this only encouraged him to hammer me harder.

"Oh God," I moaned, and I felt my eyes roll back in my head as my pussy thrived in the alleviation of its tension. He continued delivering smooth, long strokes until he plunged himself forcibly into me and erupted, kneading the flesh on my ass as he came. His breath quickened, and he made short grunting sounds, resting his body entirely on mine to ensure that I didn't fall. We slid our bodies down the wall into an exhausted heap on the floor.

I Can't Help It...

2005-02-21T20:57:00.000-08:00

I love to notice the guys that look at me.

I'm so completely aware, everywhere that I go...of guys watching. And I've never been shy. I will look the guy squarely in his eyes...I see you... It's not necessarily a mean glare. Just more or less an acknowledgement on my part of the acknowledgement on their part. See something you like?

Besides that, something about it excites me. I like to think about the guy walking five steps behind me...not only glancing me over, but realizing many other guys that pass are eyeing me, too. I don't even know what the guy behind me looks like...but I hear his steps. I'm aware that he's there, and I wonder. Is he thinking about slamming me down on the sidewalk and pounding himself into me, over and over?

Think He Wants to Know?

2005-02-14T21:07:00.000-08:00

Sure I had noticed him before. Hell, we wrote a paper together last year, and I was generally impressed by his input. Not just his ideas, but the way he expressed them. He demonstrated quite well that he was capable of having a philosophical discussion (he is a philosophy major, after all), and we produced a paper that I was quite satisfied with. We went our separate ways for the summer, and I didn't give it much else thought.

We're in classes together again, but this year, I want to fuck his mind. I love the hint of shakiness and uncertainty in his voice...as if he's not sure how his comment/question will be received. I love the brilliance that flows from his lips, to my ears, and straight to my panties. I love knowing that he hasn't the faintest idea what I'm thinking when he's talking...or that I'm even writing about him now. I love how he arrived at the building our class is in a few seconds before I did, stopped to fiddle with something in his backpack, and then looked surprised to see me.

I wonder if he'd like to know how completely enamored I am with his mind, sitting there next to him in one of the many rollie-chairs situated around the rectangular table. Would he like to know that I am so ridiculously excited by the thought of him flinging me on that table and fucking me for dear life? Would he like to know that I imagine him grabbing me out of my rollie-chair and lifting me up on the table? Would he like to know how I fantasize about him pulling his dick through his pants, hiking up my skirt (why would I be wearing a skirt?) and pushing himself between my legs, into my aching pussy? Would he like to know how I would pull him into me, because I couldn't get enough? Would the moans escaping my body sound as good to him as the way his mind works does to me?

I wonder if he'd like to know what I'm thinking, sitting there next to him, as he spews his thoughts on globalization, Descartes, or Spinoza (depending on the class). Would he like to know how much I want to fuck his mind?

Who knows...

2005-02-08T00:41:00.000-08:00

I've been rather preoccupied with how he would kiss me, as of late.

Would he grab me and pull me towards him, meshing our faces together, giving me little opportunity to want to refuse him?

Would he lean in towards me, almost frame by frame, so that I could refuse him?

Would he wait for me to throw myself on him and press my mouth to his, eager to receive my initiative?

Would he fling me on my bed like a silly, in an attempt to entice me with his ability to keep a sense of humor about things?

Would I eventually pull away from him with a mixture of tears from anger, confusion, disgust, and guilt?

Hmm...

2005-02-07T18:42:00.000-08:00

I saw him again today.

I had just opened the little door on my mailbox and jumped up in the air to peek if anything was inside when I caught a glimpse of him out of the corner of my eye. I closed the door shut after I found nothing was there, and when I turned to head to my room, I noticed that he had quickly looked the other way...and then looked back at me, as if to do a double-take. He was on his cell phone, but this time, he held my gaze.

I glared at him completely expressionlessly. I didn't smile. I didn't wave. I just continued walking in the direction (toward him, unfortunately) that would take me to my dorm.

Of course, he stared back at me with the same, expressionless face I imagine I was wearing...and almost turned his head to keep looking until I veered off to my dorm, and he continued straight to the food line.

I'm starting to enjoy his lack of reaction to me.

Bittersweet

2005-02-03T00:22:00.000-08:00

I've been walking around the past couple of days with the muscles in my ass all the way down to the back of my calves aching with every step. I don't so much mind though, because with every pang that shoots up and down my legs, I am sweetly reminded of the orgasm that caused it.

Obviously, I am referring to my recent shower orgasm. After it was over I realized just how tightly I had been clenching my ass, and how shaky the muscles in my calves were from slightly holding myself up. Not only did these pains serve as a reminder for this experience, but also of the numerous other aches I've attributed to certain situational orgasms.

Having an orgasm from oral sex, for example. My ass is gererally sore afterwards. I guess that's just because it's so much more intense than the orgasm I get from manual stimulation. Wait - let me rephrase that. What's so much more enjoyable about oral stimulation (for me) occurs moments before my orgasm. During manual stimulation, the pressure is so hard (for lack of a better word) that I spend very little time in this limbo - that is, the time period of agonizing bliss that occurs somewhere between being stimulated and it feeling pleasurable and actually reaching orgasm. I go from pleasurable stimulation to orgasm - almost skipping this limbo entirely. During oral, however...the pressure applied is much less, and I experience more time in limbo. I feel on the brink of orgasm without actually having an orgasm. And that's my favorite part. It is also the part, however, when my ass tesnes the most (in anticipation, I presume).

Thus the basis of my shower orgasm's appeal - the stimulation wasn't so much that I missed my limbo. In fact, it's just so that I was able to spend an optimum amount of time there (something I cannot achieve myself, manually).

Small price to pay for the incessant twinge in my mucles.

I Have a Dream...

2005-01-31T14:20:00.000-08:00

I had a dream where he was preparing to go down on me...he was rubbing the inside of my thighs, and making his way between my legs, without having removed my panties yet. He began nibbling slightly at my lips, still on the outside of my panties. I think I was already aroused before this dream began, because before too much longer of this I had gotten so excited that I begged for him to fuck me. Nevermind going down on me...fuck me.

He ripped my panties off, and I was already so wet that his dick slid right in. I grabbed his back and pressed him deeper into me...

I woke up in the midst of him fucking me...I never "finish" any type of sexual activity in a dream. I always manage to get to a point where it can't feel any better without having an orgasm, and it wakes me up. Thus, I woke up so freaking horny that all I wanted was for him to ram his dick inside me and fuck me hard.

My roommate was in her bed though, and I can't jill off with her in the room. I have to be laying down though...I've yet to succeed at having an orgasm in any other position. But, there's a first time for everything, right? So I stumbled out of bed and into the shower. Something had to be done, after all.

I'm fortunate enough to have a "seat" in my shower, so I positioned the water just so that it would fall on my area whilst sitting on the seat. I leaned with my head against the shower wall, and scooted my bum close to the edge of the little seat. I spread my legs and exposed my pussy to the water spraying out of the shower head. The water pressure was consistent and hard enough that when it landed on my clitoris I felt the familiar tingle of successful stimulation. This might work, I thought. And soon it started to feel so good...so intense, that I had to grab onto the metal handicap bar with one hand, and place the other hand on the seat to steady myself. My hips seemed to involuntarily raise themselves towards the pressure, and I accidently let out a little moan. Finally I realized, oh my god, I'm going to come, and my body twitched repeatedly in sync with the pleasure pulsing through my pussy.

I think more experimenting with this is sure to come...

It's Been A While...

2005-01-25T14:23:00.000-08:00

But I'm finally back at school, where I can concentrate my efforts more towards updating my blog. That might sound kind of querky, given that...well, at school, I have school to worry about. But school has never interfered with my ability to frequently update my blog. In fact, being at home regularly interferes with my ability to do any type of blogging at all (writing or reading). Mainly because, at home, there is almost always some form of company at my house. But especially over this break, because ToFu is leaving.

Which brings me to my next point - my ability to frequently update my blog should do anything but diminish because ToFu is not here (he's leaving for Italy tomorrow). And, on top of that, I'm almost sure that I will find myself thinking about sex and everything that entails for me, mainly because I will not be participating in any kind of sexual activity until May (except in my head...no one can take that away, after all).

So, here's to a semester where the only type of sexual gratification I am sure to gain will be purely mental (and thus translated to my blog). Minus the manual stimulation I impose upon myself, of course. heheh.

Three's Company

2004-12-21T13:31:00.000-08:00

She pushed me down on the bed, straddled me, and began aggressively kissing me. This was not like all those other times...those other times when he'd encourage us to kiss, and after giggling and making quite a deal about it, we'd finally manage to peck each other (and sometimes hold the pose long enough for a picture to be taken). This time he didn't even ask. This time, there was tongue.

I glanced over at him when she layed her head down on my chest and began grabbing at my bare breasts. He was looking straight ahead, not at us, with an expression on his face that I could not read.

"What's wrong?" I asked, as I took a handful of her pantiless ass and jiggled it between my fingers.

"I am so fucking horny right now," he began. "I'm just trying to control myself from fucking you, then her, then you again..."

She raised her head to my face and started kissing me again, with the same lack of reserve as she had demonstrated before. This time I stopped her and asked, "Do you mind if I suck his dick right now?"

"Oh yeah, go ahead," she responded. "Can I play with you while you do?"

"Of course you can," I told her, sitting up and rubbing on his erection through his jeans. "You either rub on his nipples or play with me."

"Okay!"

"Holy shit," he responded, and I couldn't help but laugh. He's a silly sometimes. I undid his pants and was immediately presented with his cock. He recently stopped wearing underwear, and while I didn't think it would do much for me, it does...I love that his dick is just right there. I love the outline of it in his jeans that wasn't so apparent before.

I circled my tongue around the tip of his penis before taking almost all of it in my mouth and sucking. After I'd moistened it up a bit, I took my hand and slid it over his shaft while I moved my mouth further down. I licked his sack and let his balls fall into my mouth one at a time, sucking gently on each.

By this time she was trying to get her hand into my panties, and her fingers began searching for my clit.

"I've never played with a girl before," she told me, and I laughed. "It's okay," I assured her. I knew the truth anyway...nothing was going to happen for me while I was going down on him. I haven't perfected my multi-tasking sex skills yet, which is probably why I'm not big on 69ing. I can't concentrate on having an orgasm if I'm concentrating on bringing someone else to one at the same time.

He has no such problem. "Can I play with her while you do this?" he asked.

"Go ahead," I told him. This should be interesting.

I switched the focus of my mouth back on his penis, and she began moaning. I sat up.

"Shhh..." we both shushed her. My parents were asleep in the other room, after all.

I took him in my mouth again, and began moving up and down along his penis while massaging him with my tongue, stopping slightly to suck on his tip before starting the cycle over. She started moaning uncontrollably, and he took a pillow and shoved it over her face to quiet her.

I grasped his shaft in my palm while continuing to roll my tongue over his tip, and proceeded to move my hand rhythmically back and forth without removing my mouth. I glanced over to find her writhing in my bed, and I could hear her muffled moans under my pillow.

I could tell he was getting close too, because he could hardly keep quiet himself. When he came I maneuvered my lips as close to the base of his dick as possible and sucked, allowing his sperm to flood my mouth and trickle down the back of my throat. I knew he was purposely trying to keep silent- but I looked down to watch his toes curl intensely with pleasure. She had stopped flitting around only moments earlier, and had immediately fallen asleep.

I waited for him to settle down before I withdrew him from my mouth and swallowed.

Inferior...

2004-12-20T16:57:00.000-08:00

There is only one person who manages to make me feel inferior to myself, despite the massive preparations made to my "psyche" prior to her arrival...Yale.

It's interesting that my only insecurity comes from her always telling me how insecure I am. I hate that no matter what it is that I do, if she doesn't understand it or agree with it, she automatically labels that action as a sign of my insecurity and low self-esteem.

This time it's my fault, really...I spent all of my self-preparations internally, and forgot to tell ToFu not to mention to Yale anything about what happened with Sugarbob that time we drank. Nevertheless, talk came up of all of us drinking one night while Yale was here, and ToFu mentioned something about drunk Sugarbob. "Are we going to tell (Yale's name) everything about that?" ToFu asked, and I could've killed him. Right there. Fuck.

"Of course she's going to tell me everything!" Yale replied. No, I'm not...except for what I must tell you now because ToFu opened his mouth when he should've kept it shut.

ToFu went on to say how we have pictures, and blah blah blah.

"I want to see the pictures!" Yale exclaimed. No, you don't...

You don't want to see the picutres of Sugarbob and me without our clothes on, laying all over each other...you don't want to see the pictures of Sugarbob and me kissing...you don't want to see Sugarbob grabbing on my bare tits the way she does when she drinks too much...

But when we arrived at my house and she demanded to see the pictures, I tried to be selective. I tried to show her the ones of Sugarbob, in just her panties, looking completely wasted. But that did not suffice - Yale grabbed the mouse out of my hand and clicked through the pictures herself, until she got to the ones with "Bush" written across Sugarbob's boobies.

"What's this?" she inquired. I explained to her about the Election Erection contest that went on at CollegeHumor.com. She brought up the page herself and began browsing through the pictures until she saw the one of Sugarbob - the same one that had been in my "photo album."

"Oh my God, I cannot believe she did this," Yale said. She continued looking through the "votes" and immediately recognized the one of me.

"(My name!)" Yale began droning on about how she misses so much while she's up at school, and if only she had been here, she could've stopped me from making some of the decisions I've made.

Stop me from making the decisions I've made? Because a picture of me supporting a presidential candidate was on a silly, college humor website, and nothing of me is exposed?

"Guys are going to be looking at that picture of you, and they're going to jack off," she told me.

I highly doubt that, since many of the other girls on the webiste are completely exposed.

"God, (my name), how low is your self-esteem right now that you've stooped to posting a faceless picture of yourself on some trashy college site, and you've allowed these psuedo-lesbian pictures to be taken of you and (Subarbob's name)?" Yale asked.

This enraged me.

"How is that you can take anything I do and morph it to your belief that I have low self-esteem?" I wanted to know.

ToFu came in at that point, and we didn't really talk about it any further. Except that, somehow the fact that there are naked pictures of me on my computer was mentioned.

"You have naked pictures of yourself on your computer?" Yale asked in disgust.

"Yeah...ToFu took them. What's wrong with that?"

"Yall are so perverted!" she asserted.

And my feelings of being completely misunderstood by anyone and everyone led to severe self-introspection:

I have low self-esteem? I like how Yale can accuse me of being insecure when she is the one who is a more appropritate candidate.

She has oodles and oodles of sex, and refuses to get on the pill because she's scared to death of gaining five to ten pounds. She lost her virginity to this guy she is with now when she really didn't want to; she only gave him what he wanted so that he would be pleased. She does not enjoy sex now at all - she only does it for him. She FREAKS out about her boyfriend looking at other girls, or naked girls in a movie. There are "smaller" things - she won't fart in front of her boyfriend, and he's never farted in front of her. She'd never consider masturbating for him, nor would she enjoy watching him masturbate. The lights have to be completely off when she is being intimate with her boyfriend. She constantly accuses me of being insecure.

Me? I love my body - I am not trying to gain or lose any weight. I love my body so much that I am willingly photographed nude - and then I enjoy the pictures later with ToFu. I like looking at my naked body in different positions - it's interesting to see how my breasts fall, how my pussy is shaped. I am beautiful.

I don't care if ToFu looks at other women. In fact, if I see a female that I think gorgeous, I will often point her out to him. ToFu has seen Sugarbob naked in person, several times, and has seen numerous unclothed women in movies, porns, photographs, etc.. I don't give a damn. I am completely secure in knowing that ToFu finds me the most attractive.

I have not had sex, because I made up my mind that I was going to wait, and for several reasons. And I have not given into that. I am secure enough in my relationship to know that ToFu is not going to leave me, or go somewhere else, simply because I don't "put out." I don't imagine that I would enjoy sex very much either if I did it simply to please my boyfriend. It feels like such a waste when ToFu and I are longing to have sex, but we're also desperately trying to save it. (Maybe that seems like the waste to some people, and sometimes it seems like a waste to me, too - but it's a waste that isn't as self-demeaning as the former).

I am so comfortable in front of ToFu - I'll burp, fart, pee, take out my tampon...I don't care. Neither does he. He's masturbated in front of me - I like it. I've attempted to masturbate in front of him, but I got the stage fright. I will leave the lights on and let him watch me suck his dick (we have pictures of this, as well). My point is, I'm willing to explore these areas (that I consider to be a big part of intimacy) that Yale leaves completely untouched, and I feel that it's because she's the one with the insecurities and low self-esteem; not me.

She doesn't even know about the shower. She doesn't know how ToFu played with Sugarbob, and how much it turned me on. I can't even imagine what she would say. I bet she'd abandon our relationship. I'd be too "weird" for her now.

I don't expect to be understood. I just wish I weren't judged.

"I'll Think About That Tomorrow..."

2004-12-17T13:45:00.000-08:00

Of course I still think about it every damn day. I know it's been more than three years now, but how could I not?

Of course I think about how she kissed you, when you swore nothing like that could ever happen with her.

Of course I think about you in that stupid photo booth with her, sucking on her tits.

Of course I think about the mouth that you use to kiss me, kissing her.

Of course I think about how you told her that it was wrong, and that it couldn't go on...unless she proved to you how much she wanted you by being completely naked the next time she wanted to kiss you.

Of course I think about how she came up into your room those nights she was supposed to be sleeping over with your little sister.

Of course I think about how she took off all of her clothes in front of you, so that she could make out with you.

Of course I think about you taking off your clothes, too. But it's okay, you tell me...the lights were off. She didn't see anything.

Of course I think about you naked in your bed with her - in the same bed, under the same sheets that we had been intimate together before (and after, before I knew about this).

Of course I think about the the hands that you use to touch me, all over her body.

Of course I think about your head between her legs, licking her pussy.

Of course I think about the tongue that's been in my mouth, on her cunt.

Of course I think about how you kept this from me for three months, and continued to kiss me and touch me with your tainted lips and fingers.

Of course I think about how I defended your relationship with her to everyone who told me they thought something was going on.

Of course I think about how she looks at me every time she sees me - like she thinks I don't know.

Of course I think about how you were nearly eigtheen, and she was barely thirteen, when this happened.

Of course I think about how she never crosses your mind anymore and how I am the one left paying (mentally and emotionally) every single day for what you did.

Of course I thought about this yesterday, I thought about this today, and I'll think about this tomorrow.

Thirsty...

2004-12-07T21:51:00.000-08:00

I sat up suddenly, wide awake and gasping for breath. I glanced in every direction around the room, my heart pounding in my chest.

Where am I?

I looked down and found my roommate sleeping soundly next to me. Oh yeah... I remember.

I peeled the covers away from me, rose from the "bed," and stumbled my way to the kitchen for a glass of water.

"Oh!" I said, slightly startled, when I found him sitting at the table, eating a bowl of cereal. He looked up at me and smiled, simply acknowledging my presence in his kitchen.

"I was thirsty," I explained, feeling for some reason I needed to justify what I was doing there.

Without looking up he said, "The cups are in the far cabinet to the right." He pointed. "And help yourself to the pitcher of water in the fridge...you don't want the tap water."

"Thanks," I replied, opening the cabinet and grabbing a cup. "Can't sleep?" I inquired, filling my glass half way.

"Nah," he answered, lifting his bowl and gulping the leftover milk.

"Oh." I didn't really know what else to say. It's not like we were friends.

"Well, I guess I'll see you in the morning," I said, turning to leave the kitchen.

"-Wait-" he started. "You can sit down if you want," he finished.

"Okay..." I agreed as I pulled out the chair across the table from him and took a seat. He kept clinking his spoon against his bowl, and I kept sipping my water and setting my glass back down on the table. Nobody said anything.

Finally, he set his spoon in his bowl, and while I was taking another sip of my water he said, "You know, I didn't expect to find you so attractive." I slammed my glass down and looked up at him, not sure whether I should feel flattered or offended by his remark.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I snapped, sounding slightly more annoyed that I had intended.

"Nothing," he said, laughing at my response. "It's just that...Jen kept telling me she thought I would be really into you if we ever met, and I expected to prove her wrong is all."

"Yeah," I said, chuckling a bit myself. "She mentioned to me once that she thought we might really go good together. I didn't give it much thought though." I took another sip of my water.

I lied. I had been horribly attracted for nearly six months to a guy I'd never met. And now that I had met him, I wasn't about to let on.

"Oh really, why not?" he asked.

"Are you kidding? You're way too old for me. I'm barely about to be twenty," I told him.

"That's old enough," he retorted, getting up from the table and rinsing his bowl in the sink.

Old enough for what, I wondered, and my eyes followed him to the doorway of the kitchen. He stopped and stared, as if he was waiting for something.

"Well...are you coming?" he asked me.

Don't say yes, I told myself. Don't be so fucking easy...act uninterested, tell him you hardly know him, go back to your room, tell him you aren't attracted to him that way...make him work for you, you slut.

"Yeah," I replied, scooting my chair back from the table. He scooped me in his arms and carried me back to his room. Ha ha, I thought. He's a silly.

He set me on my feet in the middle of his room and yanked my pajama pants, along with my panties, down to the floor. Then he pushed me onto his bed and ripped my legs apart. His tongue began exploring the inner folds of my pussy, and I reached my arms up over my head grabbing for something - anything - to hang on to. He focused his attention on my clit, and his tongue darted quickly over it. I gripped the bed post that I'd finally managed to find, and he placed his arms underneath me, with his hands on the small of my back to elevate my hips. By this time he'd decreased his pace, delivering more consistent strokes.

"Don't stop," I moaned as I braced myself. My orgasms are by no means tame. This one was no exception. A small quiver commenced from my pussy that rippled up and down my body - and then I came. I steadied myself with the bed post as my hips involuntarily plunged themselves forward, and I clenched his head between my thighs. My body settled after its peak, only to produce the spastic little ticks until all stimulation to my clit had ceased.

But he wasn't about to let me rest.

"Damn, that was hot," he said, fumbling to get his pants off. "Look how fucking hard I am."

He didn't give me much time to look though, because he gathered my body, flipped me around, and flung me over the edge of his bed. He drove into me from behind, and I clawed at his comforter. His hammering became more intense until he pounded me hard, and I could feel his cock twitching inside. He trembled and grabbed my waist as he collapsed to the floor, causing me to topple with him.

*****

I awoke before dawn, still on the ground. I managed to untangle myself from his embrace, retrieved my articles of clothing, and tiptoed out of his room. Jen was still sleeping soundly where I left her. My attempt to climb into bed without waking her failed, however.

"Where did you go?" she asked drowsily, rubbing her eyes.

"I needed a drink of water," I explained. "I was thirsty."

Episode IV

2004-12-02T13:03:00.000-08:00

"I don't know why...if I love her so much...why I keep coming back here to you," he said to me one day, whilst wrapped in my arms.

"I didn't ask," I replied, glancing down at him. He rolled me over on the bed until he was completely on top of me - my legs strewn apart, and his body fit perfectly within mine. He ripped apart the buttons down my shirt and unfastened my bra with the little clasp in the front.

"Mmmm..." he moaned, shoving the sides of my bra and shirt aside. He gently circled my left nipple with his tongue until it perked up, and then began vigorously sucking on it.

"-Wait-" I almost started to say, but decided against it. I've tolerated it before. I'll have to tolerate it again.

After the uneccessary roughness with my nipple (I discovered a massive purple hickey on it later that day), he concentrated his efforts back towards my mouth and started rhythmically rocking... The bulge of his cock through his jeans lined up perfectly with that spot on my pussy. So simple...so good...

I wrapped my legs around his back and crossed them at the ankles, pulling him as close "in" as possible. He grabbed my face and kissed me emphatically, increasing his speed until he rammed himself hard into me. His motion (and his kissing, for that matter) ceased, and he stared at me in this position for what seemed like an eternity before he said something.

"We can't do this anymore."

And we haven't.

I So Needed This Today...

2004-12-02T11:48:00.000-08:00

Take Notes.

I Appreciate It...

2004-12-01T18:16:00.000-08:00

I recently received an email from a reader of my blog, and I thought it would be good for me to address the things that were mentioned in it, here:

"I don't know how I found your blog, but I am writing to you in hope you will find what you are looking for. Also being a "frustrated Christian" with a high "libido," I can understand where you are coming from at times. Anyways, I would want to post a comment on your site, but for some reason I feel I would be disrupting your privet place to vent."

To which I would like to reply:

Thank you so much for writing me - one definite benefit to having a blog is finding that there are other people out there who can identify with me. And please, feel free to post any comment you would like on my site - feedback is always encouraging for me. Don't look at it as disrupting my private place...think of it as inspiring me for new things to write about!

Episode III

2004-11-30T12:30:00.000-08:00

"You do not!" I exclaimed, laughing hysterically.

"YES, I do. I swear (my name), you are so fucking hot," he assured me.

"But (Birdie) has a much nicer ass than I do..." I reminded him.

"It doesn't matter, I LOVE your ass."

Yeah, right.

"I'll never understand what you find so attractive about me, especially when you're with her."

"Fine, what don't you find attractive about yourself?"

I glared at him. "My nipples."

"What? Your nipples drive me CRAZY!" he asserted with such enthusiasm that I was tempted to believe him.

Such aggressive admiration was not the norm for me. Sure, ToFu told me all the time how attractive he found me...but that's just it. I was pretty. ToFu was just more subdued about expressing how appealing I was to him.

But he made me feel sexy...so desirable...like there was something about me that he just had to have bad enough, and it didn't matter about Birdie. Did he even feel remorse?

"You know what I'm self-conscious about?" he asked.

"Probably the same thing every other guy is self-conscious about?" I guessed.

"No, really...I think it's little. And I want your opinion."

"Um...okay?"

And with that he just...whipped it out. No reluctance, no hesitation. Which led me to believe that he wasn't nearly as insecure about it as he had pretended to be. He just wanted me to see it.

"Yeah...there's nothing wrong with that," I told him.

"But it doesn't feel very big around," he began. "Look, give me your hand."

I supressed my giggles in the silliness of this situation...why couldn't he have just asked me to play with his dick? But I went along anyway and gripped his penis, starting at the base and inching up to the top.

"You don't think it's small?" he asked.

"No..." I repeated.

"Do you think it's big?"

"I'd say it's on the larger side of the average spectrum," I concluded.

And that answer seemed to suffice.

Episode II

2004-11-30T01:48:00.000-08:00

My dog barked.

I wonder who is here, I thought, as I glanced down at my ensemble. Still in my sleepwear (which usually consists of pajama pants and a skimpy tank top in the summertime). I was wearing my glasses. My hair was disheveled. I hadn't even brushed my teeth yet.

That's when I heard his voice. At least I was still in my room. Should I pretend like I'm still asleep? Something about borrowing our vacuum...

I didn't even attempt to scramble about in my bed, I just resumed my position in front of the computer, and waited. He was coming back to my room.

His head peeked around the corner and into my room. When he saw me he smiled, and stepped over the riduculous flattened-out cardboard box, ever propped in front of my door to keep the dog out.

I gave him my computer chair and flopped onto the disarray of pillows and sheets on my bed. He kicked back and rested his feet beside me. While he was talking, I found myself rubbing and massaging the foot closest to me - and then I noticed he had stopped talking.

I looked up to meet his eyes, and he transferred himself to the bed, beside me. He slowly pushed me down onto my back and ran his fingers over my breasts. I wasn't wearing a bra, so the act of lifting up my shirt immediately unveiled my breasts to him - and for the first time. I watched as he lowered his mouth to my chest, and softly kissed the nipple perched on my right one. He cycled between this and simply staring at them for several minutes. What was he thinking?

Soon after this he sat up and said, "I just came over to get a vacuum cleaner, and look what I'm getting instead...I should probably go."

So he went.

I figure the biggest perk of his messing around with me was my breasts. Because, and let's be honest here, Birdie certainly doesn't have much to offer in that department.

Episode I

2004-11-29T18:23:00.000-08:00

"I had the weirdest dream a few nights ago," he told me. "I dreamt that you and me were on my couch, fucking," he continued.

"Really?" I asked, slightly intrigued that a guy one of my best friends was dating had a sex dream about me. This was unusual, especially since every experience in my lifetime, when the choice was given to a guy between Birdie and me, Birdie was chosen. Not that a direct choice was ever given. But indirectly, they chose her.

During Super Summer every year, for example...we would be walking together, a guy would come up and make small talk with both of us, and the conversation would inevitably turn into an "A-B" conversation - I was "C." And there have been several times that I have expressed an interest in a guy at my church, only to be turned down by the guy ("I'm just not in that place right now," he'd say), and then ask Birdie out a few weeks later. She'd say "yes," of course. Of course.

But now...the guy Birdie was dating was lying on my bed, talking to me about sex, confessing that he thought about me much of the time he masturbated, and telling how he'd dreamt about fucking me.

"Really," he assured me. "And you know what else?" he asked, looking directly at me. I didn't answer though, I simply waited for him to tell me.

"I've never had a dream that didn't come true."

Oh God, I thought, partly because of the cheesiness of the line, and partly because I knew he meant it, and wanted it. Wanted me.

"I am so close to grabbing you right now, but I don't know how you'd feel about that and (Birdie's actual name)," he told me.

How would I feel?

"How would you feel?" I wanted to know.

"I know I'm not going to feel bad enough to stop myself now," he said. "And I know you want it too...look at us, both of us...our mouths are dry, our hands are sweaty, and our hearts are pounding out of our chests," he asserted (and correctly).

"Alright," I began. "But I'm not making the first move."

With that he pulled me to him.

Rainy Day

2004-11-22T17:09:00.000-08:00

"You know...I've still never made out with anyone in the rain."

I stared at the IM box with those words typed in it for about fifteen minutes before I finally pressed the "Send" button.

His away message was up though. He was working on a paper.

I don't know what I was expecting, really. We hadn't seen each other in nearly eight months, and we hadn't talked in just as long, save an insignificant conversation about three months ago on the internet.

"Meet me in the usual place," was his mere response. I didn't even bother getting my umbrella.

* * * * *

We burst through the door to my dorm room, soaking wet, and immediately resumed our session. I quickly shoved my pajamas and my Fermi books off my rumpled, unmade bed, and we lowered our bodies onto it. We hadn't said a word to each other since we'd met outside in the thunderstorm, and it didn't seem like that was going to change.

I adored the way he kissed me - he did the one thing ToFu never does, but I wish he did. He touched my face and caressed the back of my head, my neck...he was so passionate. Passionate is a corny word that usually doesn't do much for me...but he made me feel that that was the way he felt about me.

He grabbed the bottom of my school sweatshirt (along with the shirt I was wearing underneath) and pulled them off, revealing my breasts in my favorite bra. He cupped them with his hands, and began kissing my neck, making his way down to my chest. When he got there he skipped over it though, and moved his lips onto my tummy.

I ran my hands up and down his back, all the way up to his neck, wrapped my arms around his head and squeezed him to my body. Love me...

He unclasped my bra and slid it off of my arms, then paused momentarily to stare at my breasts (which were illuminated by the miniature Christmas tree on the coffee table next to my bed). He glanced up at me and uttered, "You are so gorgeous."

"Shh," I whispered softly, as I gently pressed my finger to his lips. A smile slowly spread across my face, and he began kissing and sucking on my breasts, avoiding my nipples. Had I told him that I didn't like for my nipples to be sucked?

I didn't wonder for long though, because my hands had made their way down to his pants, and I began fumbling with his belt buckle. I unzipped his fly, reached in and pulled out his dick. I ran my tongue up and down along the shaft, stopping slightly at the top to give his head a gentle suck.

Then somehow I glanced at the clock.

7:08

"Shit!" I exclaimed, jumped off my bed, grabbed my sweatshirt and threw it on.

"What??" he asked, sitting up abrubtly.

"My roommate is about to be here, you have to go, " I quickly explained.

"What?" he asked again, with a tad more than a touch of annoyance in his voice.

"Oh my God, I am so sorry about this, but she cannot see you here," I said as he reluctantly zipped his pants back up and buckled his belt. He took my arm and pulled me back onto the bed, his face centimeters away from mine.

"You owe me for this," he said between gritted teeth. Then he grabbed my face and kissed me tenderly, rose from my bed and left my room.

Aching...

2004-11-20T00:23:00.000-08:00

I'm having one of my nights where I am just aching to have sex.

I feel like there is so much that we don't know about each other because we don't have sex, and in part, that's good, because that's a portion of what I want to save. But that doesn't take away my longing to know.

I Fell In Love

2004-11-17T16:31:00.000-08:00

Something extraordinary happened to me today. I fell in love with my body.

Like most women, I'm my own worst critic. I've never considered myself to be ugly...but there are many days when I feel, well, unattractive. But my friends (and fiance) cannot relate to me, because my issues have always been backwards. I think I'm too skinny. I'm about 5'4 and manage to maintain a 110 weight naturally...eating whatever I want, whenever I want, and never excersizing. So when my friends or fiance want me to come work out with them, they literally have to drag me to the rec center. I have no motivation to work out. Every once in awhile, the idea of doing butt excersizing will be enough to get me over to the gym...despite the fact that I have little or no ass to speak of, what I do have is flabby. And I've always thought that if I toned my ass up, it would look nicer, maybe even a little bigger.

And honestly, my ass is my worst complaint. I feel like it ruins everything else I've got, because I am not lacking in the chest area. Sometimes I think my legs are too skinny, but that's only when I'm wearing a dress or a skirt. In pants I'm usually not bothered by my legs. And working out might fix that too.

I do have a little bit of a pudge, but it's nothing vulgar or disgusting. In fact, it's only noticeable if I lift up my shirt and show it when I'm sitting down. Otherwise, there's pretty much a straight line from the bottom of my breasts down to my toes (especially when I'm laying down). My hips could stand to be a little wider, because sometimes I think they're not femine enough. And they're pointy as hell. But I figure that'll change when I have a baby. Then again, so will everything else.

But today, I put on my new bra from Victoria's Secret, stood in front of my full length mirror in it and my panties to scrutinize it, and I realized how gorgeous it looked...how perfectly my breasts filled the cups. A smile spread across my face as my eyes scanned the rest of my body, and for once, I liked what I saw. I loved how my hips spread, mirroring the width of my breasts (something I hadn't noticed before). I loved the oh-so-barely there pudge right underneath my belly button. I loved how "adorable" (a word ToFu often uses to describe my ass) my tiny hiny looked in my little mesh panties. And for once, I appreciated the length of my legs. I discovered how all of me fit together so wonderfully, and I fell in love.

I don't want to be mean to myself anymore.

I'm a little church girl...

2004-11-15T20:02:00.000-08:00

Okay, so I have a confession. I'm a little church girl. That's right, I've been in church my entire life, I choose to go to church on Sunday (and have maintained that choice although I am in college now). But before Xing out of this blog, never to return, here are some crucial things to be understood about me and my beliefs...

I believe what I believe because I have chosen to believe it. I know why I'm a Christian, and it's not because I have mindlessly shut out the possiblity of any other religion, or the idea of religion at all, for that matter. I have turmoiled with my beliefs before. In fact, I can't count the number of times I have paused in church, during a prayer, and noticed how silly it all seemed. I've wrestled with the notion that, had I never been exposed to Christianity in my childhood, it would've been increasingly hard to accept as I got older (which is why I place no judgement on those who were not brought up in church, and don't believe as I do - the whole idea of salvation is quite fairy tale-ish). Nevertheless, despite my doubts regarding my beliefs, I have always returned to similar conclusions...and my faith is, in part, based on this.

Also, I am not one of those "in your face" kind of Christians. I've never tried to force my beliefs upon anyone, and I would never tell someone who wasn't a Christian that they were going to hell. I am horribly bothered by these "in your face" Christians, but I wonder if I should be. Before going any further, it should be known that I attend one of the most conservative schools in the nation, where the majority of the student body is white, Christian, and Republican (or at least, they claim to be Christian). About twice a semester, there is a man who comes and stands in front of the academic building, and preaches all day long to the passing students...and it doesn't take long for a crowd to gather (and a segregated crowd, at that). The "Christians" congregate on one side, while the "others" congregate on the other. I stand on the "other" side, because I am embarrassed by the way the "Christians" behave, and am ashamed to associate myself with them. I hate they way they all shove their beliefs down everyone else's throat, and the way they patronize those who can't come to accept what the Christians claim is true. I hate the way they shout, "We're just trying to save you from going to Hell!" Like that's supposed to convince someone to take a minute and consider what you're saying? I feel myself get so angry with these "Christians," and I wonder if I'm in the wrong for doing so? I strive not to be one of those "in your face" Christians, because I think that is the worst way to reach people. "In your face" Christians, I feel, are more concerned with being right about what they believe than they are with being empathetic towards the situations of others.

This is why I consider myself to be a "Closet Christian." That sounds silly, probably because it is, but I'm not going to introduce myself to someone, followed by "...and I'm a Christian." I want people to know who I am, how I am, and not slap an automatic label on me because of my beliefs. After a particular person gets to know me, for me, they might have a greater appreciation for why I believe what I believe. I don't want people who aren't Christians to be misled into thinking that the only way of being as a Christian is to act like an "in your face" Christian. And this is my approach to life.

That being said, it should also be known that I'm a "Closet Nympho," heh. Maybe it's not that drastic; nevertheless, I think about sex almost incessantly. Not just the act of having sex, itself, but every aspect that sex entails. I'm interested in what happens emotionally, psychologically, biologically, physiologically etc. etc., and because of this, I am faced with this internal contradiction. I feel conflicted with my longing to please God and my desire to enjoy sex. Now, I am virgin, and have always planned on saving myself for my husband, and it's sad that "because the Bible says that's what is right," is not enough reason for me to do so. I've come up with other issues, such as "Well...if we've already had sex before we get married, then nothing new physically can be introduced into our relationship." Besides that, I'm a firm believer in the whole "Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free?" theory. But my decision to abstain from sex until I'm married has done little or nothing to mitigate my sexual appetite.

That's where this blog comes in. A place where I can vent my sexual frustrations and fiction. A place where I can reveal what no one knows about - how horny I am the majority of the time. A place where I am not perceived as this little church girl.

My First Time

2004-10-24T15:28:00.000-07:00

...to finally experience an effect of alcohol.

SugarBob came up this weekend to visit ToFu and me. She also got to go to the football game with us, and if I do say so myself, she came to the best game of the season. It was so stressful though, because it was completely uncertain who was going to win from the very beginning to the very end. No team was ever up by so much that a come back was impossible. There was usually only the difference between a touchdown or a field goal between the two. It just so happened that difference was a field goal in the last three seconds of the game, and we made it, which sent the game into overtime. A very stressful overtime. We got the ball first, and ended up making a touchdown (a controversial touchdown). The ref standing at the sideline said we made it in...but after the score was up on the board, the main ref decided that it, in fact, was not a touchdown, and they took the score back. We ended up making a field goal anyway, but weren't optimistic about it. Until we got the ball back from the other team. Woah, that was intense. So yeah, we won 26-29, with one overtime.

After the game we went to Red Lobster. They were having all you can eat shrimp, and SugarBob and ToFu couldn't pass that up. Except that all you can eat shrimp really doesn't do much for me, because all I like is fried shrimp. So I just got the fried shrimp meal.

Maybe it was on the way back from Red Lobster, but someone suggested that we get fucked up. And it sounded good...I was in an excellent mood, and it seemed like a perfectly acceptable way to celebrate our victory over Colorado. Why the hell not?

So, ToFu made his phone call. None of us were big drinkers, so we just wanted maybe a bottle of rum and something to mix it with. We ended up getting a liter of pineapple rum, and it wasn't too bad. Actually, it was pretty damn good. We started off by mixing it with some strawberry apple juice we had, but that wasn't doing anything for us, so we began swigging it straight from the bottle. By the time the bottle was finished, SugarBob was already wasted, and ToFu and I were discouraged because we still didn't feel anything.

SugarBob stumbled over to the bed, fumbled with her wallet, and produced nearly fifty dollars, shoved it in ToFu's face and ordered him to call his friend to bring as much alcohol as that could buy. Of course, ToFu wasn't going to take fifty dollars from her...but he did take thirty. And just a few minutes later he was gone to get more.

SugarBob was already shirtless. ToFu had commented earlier that he was hot, so SugarBob suggested that he take his clothes off. So ToFu, playing along, removed his shirt and shorts, but complained that he didn't want to be the only one shirtless. So SugarBob took hers off too. She came over to try and get mine off, but I helped her out. No use arguing. Anyway, after ToFu left, she decided that she wanted a coke from the machine down the hall, and proceeded to go outside. But I grabbed her before she got out the door, and asked her to please listen to me, that she wasn't wearing a shirt, and she needed to put one on before she went in the hall to get a coke. She agreed, but she put her shirt on inside out and backwards. I didn't bother correcting this, and let her go get her coke.

Upon returning, she stripped down to her bra and panties, and for some reason I started feeling bad that I was going to get tipsy for my first time without Ashley (since one of his life goals is to get me drunk...of course, another is to see me topless, and I wonder if these go hand in hand). Eh well, I'll make sure the first time I get totally wasted he is involved. Anyway, I knew that Ashley was gone somewhere, and figured he might need some cheering up, so I dialed his number on my phone and told SugarBob that she needed to talk to Ashley, because he was feeling left out. So she did. It was humorous.

"He's in a hotel room in San Antonio," she informed me. What? Why, I wanted to know. "He said he'll talk to you tomorrow," she said. Of course, a million different things ran through my head. What's he doing there? How did he get there? He must not know anyone if he's in a hotel room. Is he with a girl? Etc....

Anyways, Ashley humored SugarBob for awhile, and not too long after they got off the phone, I heard a banging on my window followed by "Come let us in!" So of course, SugarBob ran over to the window and pulled bak the blinds (in her undies), knocking over my roommate's CD stand. Damn it, I thought, and yelled at her to get out of the window, and to stay in the room until I got back. I put my shirt back on and went to let them in.

ToFu's friend (I'll call him Captain) came back to my room to hang out for awhile, and right as we entered the room I remembered the SugarBob wasn't dressed. So, I asked Captain to wait just a second, scooped SugarBob off the futon, and told her she had to put on some clothes because Captain was here. Reluctantly, she put on a shirt, and that was it. Fine, have it your way, I thought, and allowed Captain to enter the room. He and ToFu had two bags full of alcohol. I don't remember what they were called now, but the ones I had tasted like green apple. Wait, there might be some left in the fridge, lemme go check...

Alright, there was a six pack of Smirnoff Green Apple, and then three or four bottles of Smirnoff Ice and Triple Black (whatever the hell that means), and then a three pack of Bicardi Raz. All that's left today in the fridge is one bottle of the green apple, one bottle of the ice, one bottle of the triple black, and one bottle of the raz. Perhapas those shall make for a pleasant evening some night in the near future...

Anyhoo, Captain hung out for awhile, and not too long after he left, I thought I might have felt a spark of something...something felt unusual, and I'm very aware of how I feel, all the time. Maybe something is finally going to work, I thought, and chugged a bottle of green apple. I liked the green apple a LOT, it was yummmmmmmmmmy.

Anyways, the night progressed, and gradually the alcohol took it's tiny toll on me. I felt really, really good. I remember lying on my bed, soaking up my good feeling, and then feeling sad. I felt sad that it was possible for me to feel so good, but that I always feel so bad. Nearly every moment in my life is spent in mental torment, contemplating everything that is (or is not) in my life. And while I appreciate my intrinsic motivation to define myself, sometimes it gets exhausting. But what can I do? Even while mildly intoxicated, that part of myself still managed to manifest itself. Of course, it was easier for me to take my mind off of it, because everything was so fucking hilarious.

Why was the weather channel on, though?

Anyways, College Humor has this Election Erection thing going on, where you send in a picture of your body (tastefully presented or non-tastefully presented), so we decided to take pictures for that. I wanted to take the picture with me and SugarBob together, since she is voting for Bush and I am voting for Kerry. I'm not sure why, but it didn't happen that way. We took turns letting ToFu draw on us, pose us, and take pictures of us. Should I decide to send any pictures in of myself, I'll post them on my blog. Don't get too excited though, not everything is exposed.

Well, after taking the pictures, SugarBob decided that she wanted all the marker off of her, so we all decided to take a shower. By this time my head was spinning, and I had a feeling like I wasn't really there. I don't know, that's the only phrase I can think of to describe it. Luckily there's a little seat in the shower, because SugarBob was having trouble standing up. So ToFu held her on his lap while I attemped to scrub all the marker off of myself. He started playing with her, at first just to be funny...except that, instead of screaming at him to stop like I'm sure he had anticipated, she began moaning uncontrollably and grabbing onto both of us. So, he continued to fiddle with her, and I didn't care - it didn't bother me one teeny tiny bit.

In the midst of SugarBob's moaning, ToFu pulled me in close to his face and asked, "Are you going to be pissed off at me for this tomorrow?"

"No," I assured him. "Then kiss me, " he said. So I did.

I couldn't kiss him for too long though, because SugarBob started writhing all over the place, grabbing both of us to steady herself. ToFu continued, looked at me again, and asked if I was going to be mad. Again, I nodded that I wasn't.

Was I going to be mad? No. Because I liked it. ToFu getting SugarBob off was turning me on - as well as her responses to it. The way she moaned about it, the way she kept grabbing us both and pulling us toward her...they way she fell on the shower floor after she orgasmed. And the fact that ToFu was capable of making her feeling that way.

I am one sick, demented fuck. What the hell is wrong with me? Shouldn't I have become engraged upon viewing this? Shouldn't I have demanded that he stopped becaue it was making me jealous? But instead I liked it?

Maybe I'm not all screwed up, because things could NOT have happened the other way around. She could not have given him a hand job, or sucked his dick. He gets his pleasure from me only (minus whenever he masturbates, and that doesn't bother me), and to watch another girl bring him to orgasm would've pissed me off. I'm very jealous about that.

Honestly, I wouldn't even have allowed SugarBob to see his dick, but I knew that she wouldn't remember it. Hell, she probably doesn't even remember him playing with her. Let's be honest.

Moving on...I attempted to scrub all the marker off of SugarBob, and succeeded, for the most part. We got out of the shower and decided we needed to clean some stuff up, in case my roommate's parents came in with her when they returned (they had gone to Nagadoches to visit her brother). This is when SugarBob grabbed a bag of trash and proceeded to throw it in the trash can outside, in the hall way, butt ass naked. After which I put on my robe and went outside to retreive it.

I came and sat down at my computer, then glanced over to see her touching him (but she was far from playing with him)...ugh, I hope she doesn't remember...

A short whlie after this, I became very aware that I wasn't...me. I think it was in part due to the extreme amount of effort I put into typing with no errors. My fingers felt like jelly, seriously...like I couldn't control them. The room started to feel like it was spinning, and I became bothered. I think I would've been fine for the rest of the night had I not recognized that I was "tipsy," or whatever label I'll throw on myself at some later date. And suddenly I wanted it to go away. Of course, there was nothing I could do to make it go away, and my lack of control over the situation sparked a feeling of panic, and I started trembling. Leave it to me to have a fucking anxiety attack while under the slightest influence of alcohol.

So I threw up a few times. But of course, ToFu couldn't comfort me like he usually did, because the fact that I knew he wasn't in his usual mind made me feel very alone. He kept saying odd things like, "You have to drive me to Langford now." And it was 3 in the morning.

Either way, he noticed I was getting sick, put on his boxers and came and sat with me on the bathroom floor. To save from explaning the entire situation, I told him that I had just had a little too much to drink, and my stomach just wanted to get it out, and that's why I was throwing up. And all I wanted was to go to sleep for awhile.

So we came back into the room and found SugarBob asleep on the futon (still naked). So we covered her up with a blanket, and she stayed that way until morning. I changed from my robe into my pajamas, climbed in my bed, and fell asleep.

SugarBob got up to go home around 8:00 this morning, but I know she can't wait to come back and visit us again. Because "you guys are so coooool, I love you guys!" She says that a LOT when she's drunk. She's a silly.

We're already trying to arrange for Ashley to be here the next time SugarBob comes to visit. That should be interesting...

My Psyche

2004-09-29T20:45:00.000-07:00

I just love the statue of Psyche and Cupid.

It was my absolute favorite at the Louvre (of the statues). Too hard for me to choose which I prefer between the statue of Psyche and Cupid and the painting The Mona Lisa. What to do, what to do?!?

But back to the statue. Isn't the embrace so intimate? How great would it be to be immortalized with your lover, in each other arms, and ON DISPLAY for all to see? I don't know, I just got an indescribable feeling upon viewing this statue, and it has been pleasing to my eyes ever since. And I thought it was fitting for my photo.

Besides that, I also chose the pen name "Psyche", for a couple of reasons:
1.) I love the statue of Psyche and Cupid, but I said that already.
2.) I am extremely interested in the human psyche, but also sex and sexuality...the sexual psyche, if you will.

But enough about me for now. I wouldn't want to drive potential readers away by offering facts about myself that other people might find dull and boring, and weren't wondering about in the first place.

I Better Remember...

2004-09-22T15:53:00.000-07:00

I heard his truck door slam.

Eager to be in position I time, I ran into our bedroom, scantily clad, and marvelously exposed. I sprawled on my back onto the bed and invintingly spread my legs. He finally made his way through the door, and I glared at him through my open knees.

"Hello, darling," he said, as he removed his coat and placed it in the closet. He strolled over to the bed, planted a kiss on my forehead, and exited the room.

My pussy smiled. He knew how to make me long for his cock - acting uninterested in my sexual escapades is just the way to rev me up - I love to want to want it.

I strutted into the kitchen and found him eyeing the dinner I had prepared for him. I watched as he helped himself to generous portions, and so I began to help myself. I stepped out of my panties, which were already soaked, and lightly ran my fingers over my freshly trimmed and shaven pussy (just the way he likes it...neat triangle on top, hairless on bottom).

"Mmmm...this is really good, babe," he said, paying no attention to my exhibition. I placed my fingers on my outer lips and circled them around my clit...the mixture of moisture and motion produced those "kissy" sounds that I know drive him wild.

"Yeah, you like that?" I asked, inching closer to the table. He nodded, and continued digging in. I didn't let the fact that he was trying to enjoy his dinner hinder my purpose. I slid myself between the table and his stomach, grinding my ass in his lap.

"Sweetie," he contested, sounding slightly annoyed. "Not tonight, really."

I leaped off his lap, grabbed the plate in front of him, and threw it across the kitchen. I didn't stay long enough to see the plate hit the wall, but I certainly heard the *shatter* as I stormed off to the bedroom.

"CUNT!" he yelled after me. Oooh. He's really mad now. I'm going to get it...

I listened as he slammed his chair away from the table and hastily followed my path to our room. I made myself comfortable on our bed, pantiless, and reached for television remote. But he wouldn't have that.

"You dirty bitch," he said to me, between gritted teeth, as he grabbed my wrist, snatched the remote, and tossed it aside. With a fantastic mix of anger and passion, he ripped my bra off, flipped me over, and gave me the spanking of my life.

"Why," *spank* "do you make me" *spank* "do this to you?" *spank*

After being sufficiently punished, he whipped me back around and hungrily kissed me from head to toe. Finally, he pulled out his cock - hard and waiting - and rubbed it in my face.

"Is this what you want, you naughty, naughty girl?" he asked.

Oh God, yes, I thought.

He split my legs apart and rammed himself inside me, stopping suddenly.

"You want it?" he asked, teasingly, and he began vigorously slamming me, in and out, deep and hard. The way I like it.

"You want it, you take it," he muttered to me, bracing my arms up over my head, and I began moaning incontrollably.

"Oh God...oh, God, I'm getting close," he informed me, and his rhythm changed slightly - the telling sign of his nearing eruption.

Me too, I thought, and my body convulsed with the ultimate pleasure. He slowed his pace, shuddering, and collapased on top of me. Then, without a word, he rolled over, placed his satisfied cock back in his pants, and rose off the bed.

"Now, you better remember this the next time you decide to behave that way," he demanded, and left the room.