Thursday, January 31, 2008

fucked and fucking

Oh god. Thank you. Thank you a million times and then again, on my hands and knees.

The last time I fucked was with the Cannuck. When I'd returned from Christmas in Madrid and NYE on my roof. As we've established, he's not quite the physical fit for my biological needs. And god, that must have been 3-4 weeks ago. And you all know how a Lola can get. (See previous post of mind in gutter.) So, for the past 2 weeks, frustrated. Everything cancelling itself out in my life. I cancelled a guy who was going to fly here from Denmark as I thought I'd be deep into paper writing this past weekend. Then, I missed the bondage night by an address failure. Then, I thought not to ask the Canadian out since I had high hopes for a Sunday date with the photographer - who cancelled last minute and has totally stood me up since. (his loss not mine) And then, I had a date this past Monday to go to the sex baths with the neighbor but I just wasn't in the mindset and wanted to get my papers done and kind of felt repelled towards him. So, slowly, everything, every sexy, cancelled. By fate or my own hand. (Is someone trying to tell me something?)

So, in my own, self-imposed hell. Horny brain. Wet pants. Everything and everyone turned into cocks and cunts and holes and pistons. I made up flirtations and tried to supress some. Porn and porn and not concentrating and not focusing and god if I could just have a fuck buddy. In HEAT. Horrible. Disgusting. The 17 year old boy inside me. And really it happens at the worst times, when I need to concentrate, or when I could be done with my papers and could go travel this weekend. Or need to shop for my India trip. The worst times.

Alas...... the balloon deflates. My head comes back to my shoulders. My mind shakes off the cloud. My cunt is filled and full and has stopped screaming at me.

I placed an ad in Craigslist for fun, but oh my. Out comes the woodwork. I should have totally done this earlier. Just to keep the sex rotation fresh. (Nevermind the bdsm rotation. That's in the slower makings. Wilfried and Sarah have been incredible in this regard. I've also gone back to Alt.com which has generated a couple of interesting replies. But overall, replies are still horny men who think they want something spicy. Things are different in other places but still the same.)

But still, here I was typing away while being entertained by the various married or busy men in Paris. I was still ... so.. sickly... crazed. Then, my neighbor knocked. How about I invite him for a glass of something at 8:30. Oh. Fuck. Yes.

Seriously, if you know me, you know what I mean. It's like going to a chiropractor. Everything snaps back into place. Or a masseuse. Every muscle relaxes back into where it's happy. Or chi something where all the energy centers and aligns. Sex is healing and releasing and all that hippie shit and it's also me on my knees in the kitchen with his hand bouncing my face off his groin. It's me gagging and his cock getting harder. It's me saying, "you're going to - fuck - me - right?" gasping as I suck him. Because tonight I will not let things slide by in submission or acceptance. I gotta get mine mother fucker. "Of course, I'll fuck you." he says panting and pulls me up from the floor, turns me around. He's on his knees on the floor. I don't like this part. I don't like him licking my musky asshole. But I love that I am bent over, tits and arms and head on the wood counter top. (I had thought about fucking on it earlier.) On my tippy toes in my pink and white striped knee-high socks. Moaning around my embarrassment. His fingers in my cunt and parting my ass. His other hand stroking his cock and I hear it squish squish wet from my drool as he tugs. A rip and a roll and he's sticking his cock in me - no time to say, go slow, I'm a virgin again. God - fuck - yes. From moment one. It's not that this fucking is the best because it's not. I'm on my tippy toes and I'm distracted by my disinterest in him. But it doesn't have to be the best. It just has to be. I need to be filled and fucked and used and snapped back into my place. He is in no way the most amazing lover ever but I am in no way the most hot chick fuck ever. It is what it is. And I am grabbing the counter top and moaning and I don't care if the neighbors hear me (heh).

We pile onto the bed and he gets on top of me. Oh melt. Oh spread wide open. Religion. This is my worship. This is my temple. This is where I close my eyes and forget to see anything but feel the tightness of my body around the cross. Feel my finger between thrusts diddling. Jerk my body to his pounding me. This is where I let go and come back and remember who I am. God, I'd been so distracted. So wayward lost. All my cells energized again and reformatted into place. My skin sweating. His forehead dripping on my chest. My tits bouncing. My socks. My feet. My hand barely touching his arm. I don't want to feel consciously. I want to live. I want to juice. I want to flow. I want to rock!

And when I've cum enough and been a greedy piggie, I wonder when he lets himself go. Ah, my men. My boys. Trained so well and yet so poorly. Not every woman wants to fuck for 10 hours. Not every cunt can go forever. And when I've gotten my fill at the all-you-can-eat buffet I want to lay back and feel it wash over me and in me. I want to zen out and feel drunk on normalcy. "Did you cum?" "N..uh.." "Where do you want to cum?" "N...ow?" "Yah. On my tits? .... Or on my face? ... In my cunt?" He slowed, "In your mouth." I recoil a bit every time it's in the mouth. There's just something a bit too pungent in cum - male or female. He rolls me over and places me on top of his cock to ride a bit. I feel my tits bouncing and I love the way he moans. My eyes closed. This is not my neighbor. This is just a man moaning. He moans like I'm amazing and when I move a bit here or bounce a bit there, he reacts from the gut. He guides me off and pulls off the condom. I can tell his body is saying please. "Use both hands and your mouth." And when he cums it's loud and released - not how I hear it through the walls. I hear nothing through the walls. This is gutteral and primal and almost painful. And his cum is ... nicely... bland.

I try to shoo him out so I can write papers but really I spend the next two hours checking emails and plotting the next lovers. A military man, a married banker, a journalist heading for conflict zones, an artist - these are my choices of the many that rolled in.

I will finish these papers tomorrow during the day. Half-assed but content. Relaxed. Normal again. God I needed that.

2 comments:

a said...

i am envy...

rune said...

amen, yummy girl.