Friday Jul 29, 2011

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Hello again good people.

I've re-discovered the joy of Blogging. Many hours over the past week have been spent hungrily indulging in the tales of others, and realising just how lovely it is to write my own. Now, I have a couple of 'proper' blogs, regarding professional doings, but this one is special. This one I love, and I am ashamed of myself for ever ignoring my love of SG and letting my attention to it go on the wayside. Please accept my apologies. You see, this one is special, because I feel (even with knowing a fair few people in real life) able to be completely open. However moany, depressive, irresponsible or dirty I feel, I can share. And with that, I welcome the reading from you wonderfully open minded people.

I have to say as well that I thoroughly enjoyed writing my last blog and have since even shared it with a few friends (saves nattering on and repeating myself anyway). It was truly lovely to share all, not have to hide any information between potential for hurting feelings or starting gossip, wondering imagination and all. Now, this could be for a mulitude of reasons: I love to write, I love to share, I love sex, I'm easily distracted, I have a mind prone to wonder, I'm happy to discuss all matters of life openly, and I have become addicted to real life sex blogs such as Girl With A One Track Mind (appropriate/ironic I know). I really enjoy the reality of it. None of this 'Pablo climbed the Ivy to the window waiting openly for him' shit (seriously - how strong is this ivy?!). But the trueness of life, and sex is undeniably a very big part of that. I like the varying views, experiences, knowledge, outlook. It's as educational as it is interesting. And a bit of a turn on, but that goes without saying.

I therefore vow to keep my blog here more regularly updated. As well as the normal day to day babble, I'll be doing a special succession of sex blogs where appropriate, so keep an eye peeled, should you have any particular interest in my action/ lack there of. And I take no offence to those who may wish to read these extra special ones and ignore the more mundane aspects of my life. If I could pick and choose, I'd do the same. And so now, I'd like to bring you the second rosieBlue sex blog (in one week!). Enjoy.



SPOILERS! (Click to view)

Right, so it may be a mere four days since my last blog. But I have news. And a single trail of thought that I can't get off of, or talk to anyone about in detail. Again, utter distraction, such unfairness...

So shortly after posting my last blog I got a message on another adult site that I've joined recently. I shan't name names, but suffice to say it's a sex directory of sorts. I needed to get laid and those around me were failing to offer any hope, so I took a new direction. I mean this in the least arrogant way possible, but needless to say that once I added a (fairly old) picture of me in lace undies, I was suddenly very popular. Through life I've worked up the skill to whittle away weirdos/ time wasters/ the aesthetically challenged and find the needle that I'm after in the hay stack. Within an hour or so I'd worked my way past some unappealing offers and narrowed it down to two - a guy about a year my senior from Leeds, and another a couple of years older from the next town over. They're both very lovely. Leeds boy is sadly someone I'd probably be more willing to date, were it not for the distance and my inherent lack of interest in a relationship right now. Very funny, very sweet and with freakishly similar interests and tastes. I haven't given him the time due, but my aim was set elsewhere.
The local guy however, kicked off immediately. I was at ease to joke, be stupid and openly dirty from the off. Heaven. As he had to go we swapped numbers and spent the night texting into the early hours. Sharing photos, fantasies and agreeing on dos, don'ts and no-gos. Exactly what I was after. A no strings attached fuck buddy, with a clear agreement, no awkwardness and no further expectations. Things seemed to have fallen into place nicely and we agreed to meet up a couple of days later in a supermarket car park (don't think wrong of me here, I was merely being cautious, however great he seemed, it was someone I'd met online and I didn't want to give him my address). There was talk of him taking me out for a drink or to the cinema and I was amazed at how civil we were being, given that we each had one purpose for this meeting.

The next day I had an oddly girly panic about the date. Ringing every local (and cheap) beautician for a last minute tidy downstairs (a story in itself, but we won't get into that right now), outfit hunting and spending a glorious amount of time in a lingerie shop. God I love underwear shopping, I'm truly addicted and yet crippled - you may have noticed I'm blessed in the bosom department, and sadly even specialist shops rarely have bras in my size, let alone anything to make me feel suitably sexy. But low and behold, it was my lucky day. I'd found a lovely skirt in a sale, and managed to get a new bra/ french knicker set in exactly the same colour. Dress up bliss! I went away happy, though slightly mourning all the other lovely silky/ lacy/ meshy goodies that I couldn't afford to take away with me.

I'd sent this guy (FB, for name's sake) some pictures whilst trying on said new items. And things got heated. I had a happy talk with Prawn thinking I'd finally found someone as dirty-minded, experimental and labido'd up as I am. And amazingly I showed some self restraint (please, praise where praise is due here people) when he was BEGGING to come and see to me immedietly. I even managed to keep to our arranged dates after pleads to just pop by, have an hour of cunnilingus and promptly leave. I think if it weren't for fear that he may yet turn out to be an internet weirdo, I may well have unlocked my door and waited patiently in bed. Instead I stayed up too late talking to people and attempted to get some beauty sleep.

The entirety of the next day revolved around the plans for that night. I had it all planned out. The flat needed a dire amount of tidying, I needed beautifying and some how still had to squeeze in work, appointments and other such like. I shocked myself with how much effort I put in. I even dragged a friend round for outfit approval (again, slightly needless knowing the clothes wouldn't stay on for long). I smoothed every bit of skin, exfoliated, oiled, moisturised, perfumed, used a clay face mask, tidied, hoovered, dusted, ensured the bed was well made, that every candle holder had a fresh candle in, that insense was lit. I mean, really, much as I'm normally house proud and try to take care of myself, this was OTT, but on the upside, at least the house work got on. Finally, time to dress. There's something so lovely about pulling the tags off of new underwear and slipping into it. Any lady who disagrees should think again. Even when there's no chance of something sexual occuring, I love wearing my best underneath, a little feel good secret - I look hot under this daywear, and only I know it. Try it if you haven't already. I was feeling especially kind that night, so I'm going to include a couple of (not hugely flattering) photos for your viewing pleasure.




All set to go and I get a call to say he's running a bit late, which suits me fine, time for a few last minute bits. Which in turn made me late. He called asking where I was [I was rushing out the door] and I informed him that I had infact stood him up and he should go home to bed with a cup of horlicks and a good book. For those who are yet aware of such things - sense of humour is a huge turn on, regardless of gender/ sexuality/ anything else. Was nice to be at ease like this rather than apologetic besides, I'm worth waiting for wink. Now, winner award - he was not an internet weirdo. A little fatter than the internet had led me to believe, but genuine! Hurrah! I got in his car and we briefly discussed what to do. Cinema? Drinks? Fuck? Yeah, straight back to mine then!

Again, shocked by how relaxed things were. We just had a lovely normal conversation on the way, talking about work, cars and what not. Even when we got to mine, we headed to the living room and just spoke, for quite a while. A real delight to find that I hadn't picked up a complete fuckwit. Much as I was only after a shag, it's always good to get on with someone as well. No try hard, no awkward silence, we just clicked. It was almost like old friends who had gotten together to catch up, rather than two strangers starting a fuck buddy relationship. Until I needed a drink and headed to the kitchen and he followed. I sat on the counter and he stood near me and we carried on talking, and his hand found my knee. Then the higher reaches of my thigh. And the other one. With a last cheeky smile we were kissing away, me half straddle. Pretty good kisser, bit a tease-kisser truth be told, potentially a good sign. I pointed out that he'd yet to see my bedroom and we quickly headed off.

Now, I'm feeling unenthusiastic about a great deal of detail here. Simply because it was standard. More kissing, knickers removed, skirt left on. My complaining he had too many clothes on. My top off, hands wonder, bra off. A frustrating amount of time until any penetration. Then - well. What? Nothing. Or next to nothing at least. Now I'm not a fan of faking. I adore the opportunity to pleasure someone else, but with expectations that favours will be returned. I'm an honest lover, if it's not hitting the spot, I'll say until it's right, who wants the wrong bits poked and prodded in any future ventures? Not me anyway. I'm happy to teach anyone the ways of my body if they're willing to learn, and vice versa. But this time was different. I faked it. Yep, dear reader, I did what has never been done before. I fake the whole damn thing. Unsatisfied does not come close. For all the flirting, the dirty talk, the promises, and there was nothing. Not even enough to bring on a raised heart rate and some heavy breathing. Honest to god I had to fake the way I was breathing. I may as well have been reading a book and having a milky drink for the arousal I was getting. In fact, fuck that, I've been more intimately joyed than many books than I was during the first encounter with this fuck-buddy to be.

I persisted though. Beginners nerves perhaps? Bad positioning? I'm not one to give up, so I did my best to show I was into him, kissing, biting, scratching, pulling and grabbing and finally a change of position. I love to be taken from behind, the first time it happened was an enlightenment and since has been a fail safe for me getting all the right buttons pushed. But bar one or two thrusts, even this failed to deliver. And my enthusiasm died further to find that FB seemed unable to understand the meaning of "fuck me harder". As has been said before, I like it hard, hot and fast. But nothing. Then he stopped. Just stopped and lay down. Condom off, the lot. I couldn't believe it. Neither of us had come and he jut lay there and put his boxers back on. All the effort, all the anticipation, for this?!

So we lay there and spoke for a while. And finally something clicked and his hands wondered up my legs again and spread them. Credit given where credit is due. For all other failures, this guy knows how to use his hands. As said, I believe in equality with such things and let my own hands wonder, working their way over his chest and back, tickling just above his crotch, scratching his thighs and finally wrapping my fingers around his now hard cock. And then I just couldn't. Finally lost in pleasure I just couldn't continue, writhing and grabbing at the covers, unable to stay still long enough to kiss. It drove me mad and I told him he was mean, he was teasing. He made me repeat it and asked me why. Why was he mean? I wanted his cock. But he had other ideas, smiling away as he watched me, until I couldn't take it any more and straddled him. And boy, did he smile then. But I still don't know what it was. Maybe he wasn't big enough, or hard enough, but after a while even this wasn't doing it for me. But he came at last and we stopped. And lay talking again, as natural as you like. Got dressed and he left a little while later with promises to see me soon. I felt quite cheated and disappointed.

I've since made an executive decision that if you have to wank immediately after having sex, then it doesn't count as having sex. Yep, for this (surprisingly epic) sex blog, you may as well delete it from your mind. It doesn't count. It in no way gave me the satisfaction I needed or released the frustration that had been building up. And I even threw my 'no self pleasure' rule out the window. Utterly ridiculous, DAYS of work, whispered promises and I have to finish myself off? What an insult. I felt no better for it at all. Don't get me wrong, I don't feel bad for it at all, my friend gave me quite the judgemental look, but I have no guilt about meeting a stranger online for sex. I'm fine with that. I'm just not fine with the culmination of it. So the slate's whipped clean, it's not being regarded as an encounter and I'm feeling ever more in the well of a dry spell.

And just to add insult to injury I haven't heard from him since. Again, not really that bothered, it was about the sex, we had sex, if I don't see him again then so be it. However, terms and conditions were set out to have a fuck buddy. And not be blow my own horn, but I'm good. I was a late bloomer (lost my virginity in my 19th year) and endeavoured to make up for it. Not so much with number of partners or even with the amount of sex, but with skill. I'm eager to learn and to please and have made an assertive effort to learn and become an expert in all that is needed in this area. Not only have there never been any complaints, but all on the receiving end of my skills have assured me I'm able to perform the best kiss/ hand job/ blow job/ tease/ cow girl/ anything they've ever had. And I tried damn hard with FB as well, thinking of the promised future encounters, I wanted to make a first good impression and left him with a mighty big smile. Then silence. Nothing the next day, no 'hi', no 'thanks for last night', no 'can't wait to see you again'. Nothing. And even when, with building sexual frustration I text him with a very frank "I'm horny", nothing. I'm fine with one night stands, especially as I don't really know him, no emotions, no social contact. However, after lengthy discussion of continuing things, I feel it's a bit rude. If he didn't intend to see me again, he could have said. But don't make a fuck buddy deal and break it straight away.

So that's the extent of the action. More shall be said outside the spoiler zone - but a blow out or what?!





[continued from the spoiler zone, for all less detailed/sexual/interesting things - just incase you opted to skip that bit]

so FB (joke of a nick name, I know) left, I was still wide awake and decided to change into something more comfortable and have a catch up online. I got talking to W (who you may be familiar with from the last blog) and in a much more personal way. Not in any sexual way - but you may recall my concerns that neither he or M were bothered about my company or actually being friends. But we spoke about real things, housing, work trouble, relationships. For hours. It was lovely, an insight to someone I can really empathise with and with whom my instinct to find some way to help kicked in. The beginnings of a new friendship were formed that night, especially when - despite it being 3am, W got a taxi to mine. Purely for company. We had a couple of drinks, swapped some favourite music and whiled away the hours talking about nothing in particular. Although - as a small interjection, I made a few small noises about not hearing from M, but through W got the other end of the story. And I found it hilarious. It would seem he has no recollection of when I last stayed over, of hitting me in the face, nothing. But I'd left him a note, simply saying 'Thankyou. Good luck for the weekend, don't die x x'. Apparently he had the biggest freak out W had ever seen over this 'what the fuck, what's this mean?! I don't understand. Thankyou?! I didn't even shag her that time! What?!'. Amazing. Truly amazing.

W and I went for a brief walk to the petrol station when it opened in search of cigarettes and discussed the moral of having wine when it's technically morning (I argued that we hadn't slept and therefore it didn't count as day time drinking). And I was able to sort a lift home for him as for my early shift that day we had to go past his end of town anyway. And I was left to battle on with the rest of the day, knowing that I'd regret the lack of sleep (not that there was a lack of, though, tiredness is a small price to pay for a nice evening). I did however have a very busy day planned, two shifts at work, lunch with a friend, my first business party, appointments, bills to pay shopping to do...I found myself sitting on the floor outside asda gripping a can of Monster for dear life by lunch time. Luckily the majority of the days jobs were out of the way by then so I happily killed a couple of hours before work with my best friend, drinking tea and talking, about sex. Of course. I haven't seen her for a few weeks so there was some catching up to do. In the end I just let her read my last blog, and she suggested that I may have stumbled across a potential new career path in erotic writing (opinions?). It was a bit odd though. We've been best friends since we were one and share everything, she knows just about all there is to know about me and we've spoken about sex before, but it was the first time we'd spoken in much length and in so much detail. And odd also as, much as she knows I'm here, SG is a little pocket of my life we haven't really explored together. Yet there we were over a hot brew, reading my blog, looking over my photos discussing which picture shows of which attributes best and swapping tales of past experiences, including trips online to hunt out pictures to compare of any particularly good/ bad catches and even going into detail of preferred penis size/shape etc.It was actually really nice, I'm glad that, even if it did come with the odd disapproving look, she continues to be a true friend, not judge and accept this side of me, and all others exactly as they are. Even finding the depths to which my mind is in the gutter.

And it continues to be. Incessantly. I have a lot going on - paper work to do, a business I'm trying to start, gigs and holidays to prepare for. But I'm finding it irritating. It's getting in the way. It's distracting me from letting myself get distracted. An inconvenience to my inner monologue and day dreams of sex. I have forever been a sex fiend, but even by my levels, it's taking over. I truly underestimated how much the lack of a regular partner would effect me. And I do miss my ex. Well, his cock. I know things will never go back to how they were, but the thought of his cock - the shape, feel, look, taste and smell of it is still enough to make me salivate. Such a loss...

And to add to frustrations, I'm (mostly) continuing to stay true to the no fiddling rule. B decided that he finally wanted to come over - the same night as FB so I had to turn it down (along with the offer of a night out with friends). And this week four - count them, FOUR very good looking guys have given me the 'if I didn't have a girlfriend' talk. Damn these other women, don't they know what they're making me miss out on?! And I let W read my last blog and gave permission for him to show M after he asked if the saucy photos worked and I told him I hadn't gone through with it, feeling it was a bit fruitless. But that I figured the last entry made it quite clear what I wanted from M. I'm sure he's shown him by now, but I still haven't heard from him. Annoying. And I'm flirting like a beast. Honestly, I don't flirt. Ever. I've been accused of doing so in the past but have simply been misjudged. But lately no one is safe. The guy in the next lane in a traffic jam, the postman, the guys that I would never sleep with, for christ's sake, right now I'd flirt with paint drying on a wall. It's insane. And my all-too-easily distracted mind isn't helped by the likes of CreamyGoodness and I having a lengthy discussion about some hand/ tongue on thigh action. I mean really, I set up a fuck buddy arrangement, I've dressed up, I've gone out, I've spoken to new people, I've invited those who have shown an interest over, I have sent some truly graphic messages. But nothing. What does a girl have to do to get a shag?!

I'm not sure why, but sex truly impacts on all other aspects of my life. It's not that it's the only thing I derive enjoyment from, quite the opposite. But I do believe that sex is an undeniably important part of life and human nature and it's powers for happiness/ connection/ many other things shouldn't be under estimated. But lately it's ruling my life to an unusually high extent. Especially things such as mood, patience, concentration and drive to do other things. For instance this morning at work the first thing my work mate said to me is 'you're in a really bad mood, aren't you' and pointed out that I'd been a bit short the day before. I told him it was just due to lack of sleep, rather than lack of sex. But clearly it's now effecting me in a noticeable way. It's stopping me from doing the things that I ought to be doing.

So I'm stuck where I was before. Moody, not sleeping well, in dire need of a massage (despite my health being better, I'm aching like you wouldn't believe), and ever-more desperate for some GOOD sex. But other things are looking up, with money etc. And today is the last day of work, so good bye to that responsibility! It's friday, here's hoping the weekend offers some enlightenment and changes.

I really need to stop being so single minded. Someone help!




EDIT: Note to self:
I
MUST
STOP
FLIRTING

now repeat until it become a vaguely realistic aim...



VIEW 4 of 4 COMMENTS
curioustomcat:
The best intimate moments are those that come as a surprise...

Expectations can easily spoil all the fun wink

mentalrage:
There is a distinctly bitter irony to your transgressions, the more effort you put in the less you get to show for it. The "if I didn't have a girlfriend" is just like a twist of the knife.

I flirt a lot so I'm told.

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