Cock, please

Before I tell you about past adventures, I feel I need to get this off my chest:

I’m missing sex.  Oh so much.

There are points during the day when I can’t concentrate on what I’m reading because my mind wanders off, and recalls what it’s like to be kissed, caressed, licked, stripped, nibbled, teased, fucked…..see?  It’s happening again!

I really shouldn’t complain: if I hadn’t have broken up with William, I could still be having semi-regular sex.  If things with Bass Player had been more than a fling, I could also still be having sex.  But that isn’t really a good enough reason for wanting a man in my life now, is it?

When I start missing cuddles in bed, being told I look cute when I angry, being made cups of tea and breakfast, and having a man to hold my shopping bags on a Saturday, then maybe I’ll start looking properly.  When I feel like I can actually love someone again, then there will be no maybe about it.

Blood, sweat and tears

I’m going to write these tales in chronological order, so then I can mentally delete them as I write them down.  Makes sense to me!  So first up, we have the last time me and William ever had sex.  It wasn’t pleasant, at least towards the end of our early morning session.

He had come to visit me at uni, as I was still working to try and finish my MSc, whereas he had finished his degree and had moved back home.  In the morning I was frantically trying to get ready for uni, as I had a lot to do in the lab that day, and William was, typically, taking his time and occasionally getting in the way.  As we stood in the house, saying our goodbyes, something happened: a tingle up my spine as he held me, and a sudden urge to just drag him to bed and have him straight away.  The thought of driving to uni was pushed to the back of my mind as it was overpowered by the need to have him pressed against me.

We smashed our lips into each other, kissing frantically whilst tearing off our clothes.  I pulled him with me as I moved towards the bed, and we both collapsed, him on top of me, into the soft bedding.  There was no foreplay – somehow, we didn’t need it, as we just wanted it that badly.

But it turns out that we did need foreplay: as William withdrew after our respective orgasms, a pool of blood formed on my duvet.  William had torn his foreskin.

He had done this before, so this surprised me that it had happened again – surely it had hurt and he would have stopped?  Apparently it did hurt, but that wasn’t enough to stop him.

It came to light in a later conversation between the two of us, after we had split up, that he knew we weren’t doing too well, but he was willing to do anything to try and make it better.  Which is sweet, in a way.  But is a relationship really worth spilling blood over, when you know that it’s effectively ended?

Bad LS! Bad, bad LS!

I have been neglecting you haven’t I?  Well there hasn’t been much to report!

I saw William for the first time in nearly two weeks last night, and we talked and talked: about our relationship, about my feelings, his feelings, and how I wanted my own space.  I said how I felt he was planning his life around me, which I thought was silly, and how we should see ‘how things go’ until the issues were resolved.  Or not, as with all binary systems, there is two outcomes: yes and no; good and bad.

His responded saying he didn’t want us to break up, and he felt I was the fabled ‘One’: the One he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, grow old with; the One he loves completely; the One he wants to marry.

So he asked me.  And he was deadly serious.  I didn’t know what to say, and I didn’t give him the answer he wanted, but I didn’t say ‘no’ either.  I didn’t think it was really a resolution to our problems, and it definitely wasn’t the right time for a proposal!  But he’s on about getting a ring and doing it properly, and I can’t help but feel that this is moving us away from the problems we have into a new set of ones.  Like our own personal relationship scapegoat.

April

I know I’ve missed out March, but I don’t think we tried any new in that month.  We probably experimented with things we’d already tried, but nothing brand spanking new.

Last month, however, we did.  I can’t find a picture of this in my bible of positions, so I drew it.  It’s only a little sketch, please, no nominations for the Turner Prize:

I quite liked it!

Another new thing we tried: spanking.  William isn’t into spanking, or whipping, or anything that requires using force on a woman, as he thinks it’s mean.  I can see where he’s coming from, but just recently, he’s been giving me little taps on the bum when he’s taking me from behind.  The other night, he was doing this, until I shouted ‘harder!’ and he gave me an almighty slap, which made me come there and then.

It’ll be whips and paddles soon, I hope.

Confessions

During my previous post I mentioned how I was feeling a bit confused about me and William.  I’d arranged to meet up with him on Monday night (with flirty texts the night before) and tried to feel happy about seeing him…..but couldn’t.  There was something knawing at me, and I knew what it was:

I needed to tell him about the miscarriage.

If I didn’t, I’d continue to feel like this, and treat him the way I’d been treating him: being high as a kite one minute, and grumpy the next; being arsy with him; basically trying to avoid him.  I figured I couldn’t end it without telling him.  I could tell him and he could decide for himself.  If he got angry and upset about it, and indeed, about me waiting nearly two months to tell him, he was quite right to end things with me.  It was scary, but I honestly couldn’t keep deceiving myself, or him.

I went round to his, and he’d cooked a lovely meal.  He’d made an effort, he really had, because he’d missed me.  And when he misses me, he misses something else too…..

I wasn’t quite in the mood for sex, and tried to delicately avoid his advances.  This worked up until a point where he asked me what was wrong, wondering if it was something he’d done, which made me feel worse!  He hadn’t done anything wrong, why did he deserve such a tight, grumpy bitch of a girlfriend?!  We were lying in bed, facing each other, heads on pillows, although I wanted to look anywhere but directly at him:

“I have something to tell you, something I’ve been keeping from you, and you’re not going to like it.  Just know that the reason I didn’t tell you is because you had your PhD interview and your exams and I didn’t want to get in the way and worry you”.

He stared at me like I was about to cut out his heart.  God knows what was running through his mind at that point.

“OK, you’re really scaring me now LS, what’s going on?”

“You know when I had problems in March, and I told you it was an infection?”

“Yeaaahhhhhhh…..?”

“Well it wasn’t.”

At this point William is fidgeting  and looking shit scared.

“They think I may have had a miscarriage”.

“What?!”

I re-told the story that I told you guys, to him.  Tears were running down my cheeks as I told him I got opinion after opinion, because I myself didn’t believe them when they told me!

“Why didn’t you tell me LS? You know I would’ve been there for you, regardless of interviews and exams.  I’m so sorry you had to go through it on your own.”

I was completely shocked by his reaction.  It was so calm, so caring.  But then again, how could I have expected anything else?  William is the sweetest, kindest, most attentive man I’ve met.  My friends have pointed out to me on many occasion that he adores me.  Why would I think that this guy who loves me, and who I love, would ever hate me for an accident I didn’t even know about?  Now I think about it, it makes sense.

I did point out to him and remind him about a conversation we had about children, and him saying that he’d be freaked out if I got pregnant now because he wouldn’t know what to do.

He looked sheepish and apologised, and re-iterated that he would have wanted to be there for me.

“Promise you won’t keep things from me again? I want to be there for you”.

Awwww.

So things are all happy again in LS-land.  I’m happy, we’re both happy.  There’s nothing between us now, hanging there like a dark cloud that keeps raining on my parade.

And the sex is even better!

But more on that later.

And it builds

I asked my friend a question today: is it bad to enjoy time away from your partner?

My friend replied: no, it’s fine, it’s when you stop enjoying time together that it’s bad.  Very wise man :p

Anyway, me and William have had a week apart due to his having exams, and me going home for a break from university, and also because it’s been a year since my nan died (can you believe it?!).  I’ve had lots to do, though, like catching up with friends, and taking part in extreme sports, besides spending time with the family.  But I’ve had a good time, and I’ve enjoyed the time on my own.

Of course, with William revising and sitting exams, the texts and phone calls haven’t been flowing as often as they usually do.  What was bad, though, was one day in the week I realised that I hadn’t heard from him all day….and I was ok with that.  I just waited for him to text me.  I wasn’t fussed about whether I heard from him or not.

To be honest, I don’t know what I’m trying to say in this post.  Am I just stressed with trying to do too many things at once, and William’s stress of exams and postgraduate applications are just adding to that?  Or have I, God forbid, stopped enjoying time with him?

What actually worried me enough to write this post was him texting me asking when he could see me next week so he could seduce me.  And I found myself thinking ‘it’s not that simple’, like he’s pissed me off somehow and he needs to make it up to me before I will have sex with him again.  But I don’t know what happened to make me feel like that.  I’ve been feeling out of the mood for sex for a couple of weeks now.  I don’t even want to masturbate, and I’m not missing sex.  I’m sure this is linked to how I’m feeling about William at the moment.  But I don’t know what’s brought it on.

So it builds up, as I feel guilty for being apprehensive, or even not feeling bothered, about spending the night together, and then rush to the mind set of ‘it isn’t working! End it now!’ when probably all it needs is me to spend time with him again.

Carpet burns

As a break from revision (for him) and horrible, horrible research (me), William and I decided to go to the theatre for the night.  We invited friends along to make it a nice outing.  It was thoroughly enjoyable, I think I’ve managed to convert William to the theatre now.  Next on the list is Shakespeare.

Anywho, we drove home, the conversation topic stayed mainly on the show.  When we got home, we closed the door and continued talking, and it was like one of those really soppy romantic rom-com movies, as we turned towards each other, moved a little closer together and then started kissing.  Just like two magnets.

So the clothes came off, an item at a time.  I dropped the keys I was holding to the floor, which made a loud ‘thud’.  Soon we were both standing in the middle of the room, completely naked.  I didn’t need to persuade him tonight: he got right down on his knees without a word from me and started licking.  It felt good, as we’d had a whole week without sex, which has been heightened over the weekend by the ‘no hanky panky’ rule laid down by the rents.

He pulled me down on top of him so I was sitting on his face.  I played with his hair as he grabbed my bum and pulled me forcefully onto his mouth even more, and moved me backwards and forwards over his tongue.  He even ventured into indulging me with a little rimming, but not for long, as his intentions ultimately lay elsewhere.

My bed was a mess (huge surprise for me), so we turned our attention to possible floor space.

He went on top first.  The friction between my back and the carpet wasn’t exactly nice…..but then again, I was having orgasms so I didn’t care!  He had slid into me in one stroke, I was so wet and ready for him.  My legs were intertwined with his, and as I experienced the crescendo before coming, I wrapped my arms around his waist so tightly, just to keep him in that spot that would guarantee my orgasm.

Without letting me come down from my dizzy high, he flipped me over: my legs ached from being spread apart, perhaps due to lack of practise.  It’s been a long time since we’ve gone a whole week without sex.  He slid into me once again from behind, one hand on my waist, the other on my back, pushing lightly to indicate me wanted me on the floor.  So there I was, bum in the air, my torso pressed to the floor.  I was slightly worried I’d get carpet burns on my breasts!

He leant over me and whispered ‘where do you want it?’

‘I don’t mind, I don’t care, make me come again, please!’

In response to this, he fucked me so hard, then suddenly withdrew, and then, basically, I gave him an arse-crack wank (if anyone has a better name for this, let me know): he rubbed his cock up and down the middle of my cheeks, before coming over my back.  I could feel the warmth of his come as it hit my skin, and I sighed, knowing that he was satisfied.

It wasn’t until after all this, William said: ‘Does your back hurt? It’s awfully red’….

Injuries are not so bad when you learn to live with them

Me and William hadn’t seen each other for 8 days.  That isn’t very long, but I had been out of the country, so there was a need on his part to see me, maybe to just check that I was still in one piece.  He picked me up from my office (I have my own office *Squee*!), and it took all my sterness, dominance, and a little bit of willpower to stop him taking me there and then.  As tempting as the thrill of workplace sex was, I didn’t want to upset my supervisor who was in the office next door.

So into the car we get: he is playing with my hair all the way home.  William likes this: he likes playing with mine as a type of foreplay, and he likes me to play with his as part of post-coital cuddles.  We pulled up at my house, straight in, no fuss, clothes off.  Yes, that quickly, like lightning.  I do manage to get a bit of oral though.  The moment his mouth touched my already swelling lips…well, it was like ecstacy.  It was like I had never had it before, as I had been fantasising about this since the last time I saw him.

Foreplay on his part was non existant: he wanted me now.  So he took me.  His cock replaced his mouth and he slid his length into me, stretching me in the most pleasurable way.  As he rocked inbetween my legs, the orgasm was building for both of us, and as we locked lips, I felt him shudder as he came, which was what I needed to tip me over the crest of the wave and come myself.

Unfortunetly, cuddles were cut shorts.  As he pulled out, we discovered there was blood everywhere. I started to panic, wondering what the hell was wrong with me this time when I realised it was William bleeding:

“I thought it hurt a bit when we were doing it, but I decided to just keep going”, he said, trying to clean up the blood.  He had ripped his frenulum, which was bleeding ferociously.  I told him to go and have a shower and clean up, while I sorted out the bed linen and put it to the wash.  Fortunetly, the rip didn’ seem too big, and we hoped it wold heal soon, as one orgasm for 8 days apart isn’t really enough!

William still wanted sex though: in bed later that night he was pulling his best moves on me, but I honestly felt so guilty about the whole thing I turned him down.  What if it started again?  I told him it was best to wait until it was healed completely until we tried again.

But morning light came, as did out need to work on our orgasm tally.  How would we resolve this?

“You could always rub yourself and I could watch?” he suggested.  What an excellent idea.  I didn’t need persuasion.  I got to work straight away, building myself up, turned on by him rubbing himself in front of me.

As I came, he was grinning broadly, but still rubbing himself, somewhat more tenderly than usual.  I asked him if he needed a hand (no pun jokes!).  He got up, out of bed and stood before me, his cock right in front of my mouth.  I circled the tip with my tongue and gripped the base with my hand and rubbed it tightly.  I took as much of his length as I could into my mouth, and worked his cock, moving my mouth and my hand together in tandem until I felt his come hit the back of my mouth.

Then we had time for cuddles.

My gift to you

Yes, I know this is waaaaay overdue…but, y’know….been busy and stuff.

In the February edition of Scarlet, there was a cut-out-and-keep double page spread of promises one could make to their beloved on Valentine’s Day.  Perfect, I thought:  thrifty (well, you have to be in the current climate), a chance to show my creative side, and it’s technically a present for both of us.

So I cut out the pages and made them into little business card-like promises.  I selected the ones I wanted, of course:  I wasn’t particularly keen on the ‘I will call up my friend and we can indulge in a threesome’.

Even though I’d selected about 10 promises, I knew which one he would pick above the rest.

I made him close his eyes and sit on the bed.  Opening the palm of one of his hands, I rested the pack of cards in his hand and told him to open his eyes.  The look on his face was like a child at Christmas that has just opened the present he’d been wanting for months.  He read all the cards thoroughly, still with a grin on his face, before saying “I’ve picked one”.  Like I said, I knew which one it was going to be.  I made him read it out.

“We will have a soapy shower together, and when I am ready, you will insert one finger into my sweet hole.  When I am wet enough, I will get the lube and cover your cock in it before plunging it into my ass.”

Having him read this out made me want him so much, I was not satisfied with kissing his neck: I had to bite down on his neck and ears, whilst running my hands down his back, digging fingernails into his buttocks to pull him that little bit closer to me.

“I think we should have the shower after” he decided.

“That’s fine” I replied, as I was quite happy with the position he was in at the moment.  I pulled him on top of me.  The thought of what was to come had made him hard; so hard, in fact, it was almost painful as he rocked back and forth between my legs.  The friction of our bodies rubbing against each other meant that, although still fully clothed, I was peaking towards orgasm already.  Much biting and nail-clawing ensued, as I grew closer and closer to what I wanted.  As I came, I gave out a moan, unstifled:  I didn’t see why I should concern myself with what other people thought when I was experiencing something so utterly sexy.

As I lay, basking in my post-orgasmic glow, William was still unsatisfied:  he started stripping my down, removing my items of clothing one by one, before helping me up out of bed to standing, where I was rewarded for my sheer laziness by a strong embrace, and a powerful kiss.  Still relaxed from my orgasm, I was slow to remove his clothing, but his constant kissing, biting and nuzzling of my neck, and practically any flesh he could find, aroused me further.  I remembered what he wanted to do to me, and this perked me up even more.  I produced the bottle of lube as he put on the condom.

He started teasing me with lubed-up fingers from behind: as I was bent over my bed, with him behind me, I could feel his fingers move in and out of me, but it didn’t feel unpleasant.  I was enjoying it, and wanted more.  So William lubed up his cock, which was still painfully hard, and gently pushed into me.  Unlike previous times when I’ve tried anal, I didn’t feel stuffed.  This time, I felt relaxed and was actually enjoying it!  

William reached round with one hand to rub my clit, sometimes dipping the tip of his fingers into my soaking wet pussy.  He lifted me up, so I was standing up and pressed against him, still with him thrusting in and out of me.  When neither of us could stand anymore, he told me to lie on the floor, on all fours, as he entered me from behind again.  The forcefulness of his thrusts had me lying down completely, my moans this time stifled by the carpet, as he gave my arsehole the fucking of its life.  This didn’t hurt, as he had lubed up well beforehand.  But neither did it make me come.  This was slightly disappointing, but as William came himself, I was satisfied that he was satisfied.  I was happy we had managed to do anal without me protesting that it hurt too much.  And there’s always next time!

We lay on the floor of my room, him on top of me, for some time while we both caught our breathe back.  He pulled out of me and disposed of the condom, and I planted small kisses running up from his neck to his lips.

“Shower?” I asked, as my arse was covered in lube, and we were both a little hot and bothered.

I have to say, I think the shower was the most romantic part of the night:  giving each other a scrub down with nice smelling shower gel, washing each others hair, and then finally washing away the soap suds by holding each other and kissing underneath the shower. 

Not quite a tropical waterfall, but it’s good enough for us.

11 days to go – what are your plans?

It’s the time of year that singletons loathe, loved-up couples splash out on their other halves to show them how much they love them/care about them/want to fuck their brains out (delete as appropriate) and secret admirers can admit their affections.

Personally, I think all the hype cooked up is ridiculous.  Sure, you can celebrate your love for one another, but you can do that any day (and probably should too).  There is too much pressure on men to remember to book that romantic meal for two and get the big bouquet of flowers that all thought of originality goes out the window.  There is too much pressure on woman to receive gifts too:  I’m sure you’ve all heard of women in the workplace buying themselves flowers, to be delivered, and then act all surprised when they turn up, pretending them to be from some secret admirer.  Give it a rest!

I do like celebrating Valentine’s day, I really do.  Perhaps it’s being a student, or maybe my thrifty upbringing, but I’d rather have a handmade card and a mixed tape of all the songs that remind my significant other of myself, than a big bouquet of flowers that will eventually die, and can’t be kept.  This year I’ve got a do-it-yourself mindset for William: Scarlet has come up with some call cards with sexual favours in them.  So when I make him my card (yes, I am artistic) I can put my favourite one in there!  I’m thinking the ‘slave’ card will be sure to grab his attention, as he does like to be dominant.  Ingenious, yet inherently simple.

Hopefully this year’s Valentine’s Day will be better than last year’s, when I was taken out by Barry for a nice romantic meal, only to be criticised not only for my outfit (big no-no) and the way I eat.  As a former eating disorder sufferer, this was enough to make me get up and walk out.

Previous years have brought happier Valentine’s Days: I experienced my first multiple orgasm on Valentine’s Day a few years ago.  This may be entirely independent from the fact it occured on this day, but maybe it was the feeling of love in the air?  Maybe not….

What are your plans for the 14th February this year?  Are you going all out to impress the one you love?  Maybe bypassing it completely and spending it with the friends that you love?  Or are you taking my favoured route (and probably a credit-crunch friendly route) of originality and do-it-yourself?