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’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!
With Autumn comes the bounty – and for me, this fall comes the booty. My snugglebuddy aka booty call has returned! After a summer away, The Boy is back and is ready to “be there” for me. What timing! It’s as if the greater cosmic forces of the universe have lined up and ensured that I will not go without this season. We were reacquainted this weekend after nearly three months of no action. Surprised to find ourselves at the same event at Vancouver’s Media Club, the initial re-greeting was a little awkward. I soon came to realize, however, that every time we managed to cross paths, he completely devoured me with his gaze. It might have had something to do with my new fake tits and the little shirt I was looking absolutely amazing in, but whatever the reason – Game On! I’m a firm believer in allowing oneself a few options in the booty call department. Like having appropriate footwear for a particular occasion, knowing the right number to call on a Friday night is imperative! With The Boy just up the street and Gold Miner Greg looming on the horizon, the season of plenty has truly kicked off well!
When is a coffee just a coffee? Is it when two former lovers meet up just to see if there is still a spark? Is it inform a current lover that it is over? So much can happen over a cup of joe. I’ve decided to break my exclusivity agreement with my tall Indian to “have coffee” with Gold Miner Greg. He initiated the email a couple of weeks ago and since then we have, through several turns of the ether, decided we should indeed meet up. Will it be a betrayal of trust? Of course. But I think I gave that trust out too soon and now I’m having to reel it back in like a fishing line caught on an old boot. I think I also have to admit to myself that I’m not ready to embark upon another relationship – no matter how slow it is going. I still want to date and although the curry dinners with homemade roti have been mind-blowing, I know that I’ve got to give him (and them) up. The only question is when and where? Do I do it this weekend just as his out of town guests are arriving to meet me? Do I do it before I wear that beautiful and expensive lingerie he gave me? And how?
Perhaps over coffee.
5 weeks into a relationship shouldn’t see tears or hear phrases like, “I thought you loved me”. Yikes. 5 weeks into a relationship shouldn’t be about discussing the first name of a child, where you want to spend your retirement years or what it would be like if his mother came to live with us. I’m not sure when the fast forward was hit, but speeding along at Mach3 is making me anxious, tense and a wee bit nauseous. I like my tall Indian, but I’m not ready to jump into the marriage/kids/mortgage ring with this guy just yet. Call me crazy, but 5 weeks in is just a little too soon. I’m still figuring him out. And wondering if I like what I’m finding! I like that he cooks, is incredibly attentive and very affectionate. I’m not liking when he drinks too much wine and talks about politics in a very loud, opinionated manner, or the tiny missing detail that he hasn’t yet been there for me in bed, and last but certainly not least, the realization that I can’t handle, with any amount of dignity, the crying (on his part) that most often accompanies discussions beginning with, “What’s up with you tonight?”
5 weeks is too much too soon for a lot of things. 5 weeks is how long it takes to get an appointment with really good hairstylist, to get lab test results proclaiming you’re actually healthy, or to finalize real estate deals.
But is 5 weeks too late to give Gold Miner Greg a call?
A month of being exclusive later – I’m having second thoughts. My tall Indian lover has quickly turned into my tall Indian boyfriend – with all the demands and expectations of a regular relationship! And I’m not so sure I’m ready. In the last four months after the breakup, the move out, the getting sick with stress, the finding a new apartment, the new tits…and then a new relationship… I’m not so sure I’m dealing with the whole thing as gracefully as I should. Falling in love is easy, but staying in love and really committing to it – that’s the hard part as I’m sure the better half of the stats show with any modern day marriage! I’m struggling with wanting serious amounts of my own space, seeing other people and needing something a little more than just the occasional fuck. I’m not sure where a new relationship fits into all it. Perhaps nowhere. I tried to give my exclusivity rights back to him last night – but in that sexy London accent and with those chocolaty sweet brown eyes I was only able to articulate my need for space. I couldn’t bring myself to admit that I’ve been fantasizing about sex with my ex – a sure sign that I’m just not ready for another go round so soon! Does this mean that I have to give up the samosas?
I’ve been out with a lovely chap only three times. Tall (6′2″), dark (Indian) and handsome (incredible smile that reaches all the way up to his eyes). Our first date we met at a pub and chatted for five hours, could’ve gone longer but it was past midnight and we both had to get up in the morning. Our second date, he invited me out to the park for a walk, then, if I was comfortable with it, back to his place for a home cooked Indian meal to be followed by a film at the theatres. We didn’t make it to the park that day, or out to the theaters for that matter, but he did cook me a fantastic dinner in which, before my very own eyes, he made roti (from scratch!) and an okra curry. Whoever said cooking is the way to a mans heart obviously wasn’t a woman! After dinner and a yummy bottle of wine, we watched a DVD curled up on the sofa. I’m not sure what we were trying to watch and it really didn’t matter as we spent most of the film joined at the mouth. Too comfortable, too soon? Fools rush in be damned, it was amazing! Our third date and a rainy Sunday brought us back to his rooftop apartment for another wonderful meal (major points for cooking!). It was then, over our glass of red, that he told me he doesn’t want to date anyone else and that I have exclusivity rights on him. I was shocked. Pleased, of course, but more than a little taken aback. He told me I didn’t have to declare the same, just yet, but only when I was ready. A lot of wow and little yikes! I’m not sure if I am ready to be exclusive so soon. He is a wonderful guy and an awesome kisser…. but I’ve been enjoying the dating game. Becoming exclusive at this point is certainly the most complex meal he’s cooked up yet – it’s both something to chew and and food for thought. Perhaps I’ll let it simmer.
