Saturday night was supposed to be my night – the whole evening was promised to be dedicated to my sexual pleasure alone…and how I was looking forward to it! I was told I could use him has I wished – he would be my slave for the evening as he was going to take Viagra to guarantee everything would be up and ready. But after five glasses of red wine, not even the Viagra could cut through the vino buzz. I was ready to go, as five glasses of anything only serves to, well…, serve me but not so him. He came in about two seconds and fell asleep – without a smile, a hard-on, or a satisfied partner! The expectation of a great evening dissipated into great disappointment that not even medical science could have remedied.

I’ve never really understood why guys find coming all over their partner’s breasts such an incredible turn on, but it does seem to be quite a popular way to unload. When IndiaLove (aka my tall Indian lover) told me he wanted to B his L on my Ts (Bust his Load on my Tits), I wasn’t sure whether to be offended, flattered, turned on or grossed out. I’ve never really been propositioned in such a way, but that could be due to the fact the my As never garnered much sexual attention. My DoubleDs however, demand it (they turn me on for godsake!) Complying with his request because I’m adventurous and kind of kinky, I realized, as he straddled my chest and began to indulge in some seriously intense self-love, that as he was finding the whole experience totally erotic, I was, too. And what else to do when your lover is kneeling over top of you, cock in hand, completely engaged and engorged by the whole ordeal than to reach down and have a go at yourself! Hello, Mutual Masturbation! Sex is great in all of its wonderful diversions! Having my hands busy, made his own work harder, and just as I was getting warmed up – he sprinted ahead and crossed the finish line. Fuck! Isn’t that always the way? I wish I could just pull it out and orgasm within 30 seconds. This however, seems to be almost an entirely male trait. Perhaps if men grew a pair of tits, women might be so inclined to B their own Ls all over their man’s Ts!

After two months of hard core trying, it happened! And OMG – it was worth the wait (well, almost)! A combination of dirty talk, the right place, the right pressure and the fact that I finally admitted to myself how much I actually cared for my lover brought the religion out of me for the first time in a long while. Thinking back on my whole bank of sexual experiences (I’ve had a lot) I can’t seem to recall ever having an orgasm with a one night stand, a friend with benefits or somebody I didn’t really love. It took me two whole months to sort out my feelings for my tall Indian lover – coincidentally, it took the same amount of time to “reach my peak of desire”. But having climbed that fence once, I’m now running free in the field on the other side! Contrary to popular belief (mine included) my lover needn’t be hung like a water buffalo to satisfy his darling. Coming had more to do with how I felt about him rather than how he felt inside of me. The physically stuff is great – no misunderstandings, but the spiritual, the mental, the untouchable aspect of having sex, or in my case making love, is when the amazing things happen. And like just like anyone who has had a religious experience, I’m now a confirmed believer: size is not all that matters!

It’s been two months of being with the same lover and I have yet to achieve an orgasm. Without pointing fingers or intimating blame, I have to confess that this is unusual, even for myself. It does take me awhile to get turned on to the point of orgasm and it usually involves several different techniques including, but not limited to kissing, nipple licking (mine, not his), manual stimulation (mine, not his) and hitting at least two of my erogenous zones: back of the shoulder, behind the knee, and lower back. Between his rapid rabbit like style of thrust and my neediness of attention to the finer details, coming has been a challenge – not for the lack of trying, however. My lover and I enjoy a healthy sex life with regards to frequency. Quantity is not an issue – it’s the Quality that has got me a bit concerned. I’m not sure he feels the same way as both his Qs are on par. I have mentioned this seemingly inconsequential fact to him and his response was this: “Whenever you’re ready, baby”. I was ready! So ready in fact, that after he finished in the typical style and form (and fell asleep), I indulged in a bit of self-love… and came in about two seconds! Why can’t he do that for me? Perhaps I’ve got to become a better communicator in the bedroom, or perhaps he needs a map, a book on “how to”, and a good dose of Ritalin! Whatever it may be, the frustrating question isn’t whether or not to come but rather when the hell is it going to happen?

Wow! Is that the same dress? My favourite slinky little number has been magically transformed by my newly enhanced chest! It’s hard not to spend too much time in front of the mirror admiring my plastic surgeon’s work – so this is what a dress is suppose to look like! These babies give a new definition (no pun!) to all my dresses, t-shirts and sweaters. I am finally voluptuous and damn my clothes look fantastic! I am now the recipient of all those unwanted stares and ogles that women endowed of a certain cup size continually complain about. I did get them “done” for myself but the confirmations I receive when I wear a V-neck make paying my Visa bill that much easier! The eyes of men I knew when I was but a wee A pop at the site of my perfectly formed, buoyant double Ds. They are the ultimate accoutrement – I have no need for necklaces and earrings to detract the viewer’s eye from the cleavage: mine scream LOOK AT ME! No wonder my neck has been sore as of late!

I had dinner last night with Gold Miner Greg. 6 weeks after the announcement of the official “Summer Date Winner” (which wasn’t him) he decided to invite me out for a “coffee” to see if there were still sparks we should investigate. Although I am seeing someone else, I agreed on the grounds of a no strings attached meeting of friends, just to catch up. And I did really want to see if my gut instinct had told me the truth: Gold Miner Greg is a great guy, but there were not (and still are not) any huge fireworks. I was right. But after I received his email this afternoon, it seems as if our “gut instincts” were telling us different things. The meeting last night apparently re-confirmed how he was feeling for me – he wants to see me again and wonders “where should we go from here?” For me it only solidified the fact that I had chosen correctly.

I’ve had a bit of a debate going with myself regarding the size of my lover’s penis. The bigger the better? It’s how you use it? It’s all about girth?  Although these questions linger, I’ve come to the conclusion that it is really how you feel about your lover that matters, and quite often, makes up for the size of the damn thing! My current lover is not overly endowed but he has the drive of a rabbit and the stamina of a bull. He is passionate, spontaneous and, to an extent, giving. Have I had wild, crazy orgasms in his presence? Not yet – but that may have less to do with the size of his cock than the feelings I have just recently sorted out for him. Only time will tell. For me, sex, making love, fucking, shagging, and doing it are a joint venture between body and mind.  Without the permission of one, the other has no fun. Will a huge lob tilt the balance either way? Again, a question that will for the moment have to hang, no pun of course. What I do know for certain is that sex has been great fun without the great size.

I couldn’t do the bootycall! Something from somewhere divinely intervened on my sexual behalf negating the possibility of a casual Friday night romp. I’m not sure what it was….my moral voice? my righteous voice? or perhaps it was my mother’s voice? but I did not get laid by a stranger that night – I just didn’t want to share my new tits with somebody undeserving. I want to be worshiped for longer than it takes to have an orgasm. I’ve never been very good at casual encounters of the sexual kind, anyway – I usually can’t come and most times the lay ends up in a pseudo-relationship. I wanted neither. So, I called up my tall Indian instead. Comfortable and intimate, we had a fantastic Friday night affair!

The moral of the story: I chickened out of something uncertain and placed all my eggs in one familiar basket. Is that so bad?

I’ve got my first date set for bootycall: I’ve cashed in on the offer for “friends with benefits” and taking full advantage of the privilege on Friday night. I’ve never had this sort of arrangement before so it should be interesting to see how the evening unfolds – I know where it will inevitably end up – but it’s all about the journey, n’est-ce pas? I wonder if there will be foreplay over dinner (hmm… a meal before hand, does that qualify for a date? or perhaps it’s the “grown up” route to getting some!) I can imagine playing footsies under the table, his hand on my knee (or maybe up my skirt!) my hand on his…. oh, the possibilities! How deliciously dirty! It’s amazing the lengths we will go, the games we must play, the lies we pretend to believe all to satisfy our most basic of needs! But really, last night I could have popped with all the pent up sexual energy I’ve managed to garner over the past month! Having sex without coming for six weeks is guaranteed to drive anybody up the sexual walls of frustration! I’m needing some serious RELEASE!

A friend with benefits couldn’t have come at a better time!

What is it about a guy with a tattoo on his neck that is so incredibly erotic? Must be the whole bad boy, bartender-in-a- band image. It’s not the tattoo itself that screams, “I’m sexy and I fucking know it” but more about the guy who has dared to go there, and get inked on such vulnerable skin. My bartender-in-a-band with the Chinese symbol for “Dragon” on his neck is just that. He emanates SEX beyond the capabilities of the five regular senses; the stuff coming from him goes right to the “fuck me” centre of my brain. And oh, how I would love to! We’ve had a few chance encounters at the local live music venue that I’ve attended with girlfriends but we haven’t had the opportunity to exchange numbers. There is no night planned out to the same club again and I might have to take it upon myself to go and get him – that is to make a uni-purpose trip to the bar I know he works at on Saturday nights. I’d love to see that tattoo bared above a naked chest.

Hmm… perhaps he has more sexy tats…and there is only one way to find out!