The most frustrating thing about being an awesome slut is the disjunction between dudes who want to fuck, dudes who want to love, and dudes that I find worthy of fucking and loving. A few weeks ago I met a guy I thought was all three. He seemed intelligent, punk, and slut-loving; he was handsome, and he told me he was looking for a relationship. Having recently declared that I was "over" casual sex, I waited until the third date to fuck him--and it was amazing. I'm not sure what happened after that. Suddenly he was too busy to see me. His texts dried up.
I get it. I may not know why he stopped being into me, and it hurt, but whatever. I recover easily. I remained friendly with him. I didn't spend any time on pursuing any other boys, focusing instead on spending time with my ladyfriends.
After two weeks he texted me, "come help me nut." I'm embarrassed to admit that I snapped to it. We snuggled on the couch, sober, talking about work (we work in similar fields), lame friends, whatever, for way too long. Eventually he grabbed my throat. We started kissing. I got on my knees, took his cock in my mouth. We moved to the bedroom. He undressed me and admired my new chest tattoo as I looked out the window at the guy next door who was watching TV. My lover asked if I wanted to close the blind. I didn't. He closed it anyway and returned to the bed to fuck my throat.
After a good deal of throat fucking I got shoved down on the bed and penetrated from behind. I came once, got flipped over, got slapped and called a whore. Got choked while I came again and again. And again. The bedroom was super hot and we were both sweating--usually pretty gross to me--but now it was awesome. He couldn't decide where to come but after much debate he exploded inside of me.
We peeled off each other. He put on Gehenna and left to take a shower while I laid there with my head hanging off the bed. Earlier in the evening he had kinda invited me out with his friends but when he asked if it would be a total asshole move to go out without me I was relieved. I was sticky, my makeup was a mess, and all I really wanted to do was go home and lie in front of a fan. He walked me to my car, kissed me goodbye, and I went to the grocery store to buy chex mix and apple juice.
I'll never be his girlfriend. A perfect guy is not a perfect guy if he can't make time to see me a couple of times a week. But I assure you, I'll be thinking about him during my magic wand sessions for the next couple of weeks, and the next time he needs help busting a nut, I will be there.
I get it. I may not know why he stopped being into me, and it hurt, but whatever. I recover easily. I remained friendly with him. I didn't spend any time on pursuing any other boys, focusing instead on spending time with my ladyfriends.
After two weeks he texted me, "come help me nut." I'm embarrassed to admit that I snapped to it. We snuggled on the couch, sober, talking about work (we work in similar fields), lame friends, whatever, for way too long. Eventually he grabbed my throat. We started kissing. I got on my knees, took his cock in my mouth. We moved to the bedroom. He undressed me and admired my new chest tattoo as I looked out the window at the guy next door who was watching TV. My lover asked if I wanted to close the blind. I didn't. He closed it anyway and returned to the bed to fuck my throat.
After a good deal of throat fucking I got shoved down on the bed and penetrated from behind. I came once, got flipped over, got slapped and called a whore. Got choked while I came again and again. And again. The bedroom was super hot and we were both sweating--usually pretty gross to me--but now it was awesome. He couldn't decide where to come but after much debate he exploded inside of me.
I'll never be his girlfriend. A perfect guy is not a perfect guy if he can't make time to see me a couple of times a week. But I assure you, I'll be thinking about him during my magic wand sessions for the next couple of weeks, and the next time he needs help busting a nut, I will be there.
