Cock, please

October 15, 2009

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

October 12, 2009

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!

June 22, 2009

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.


May 3, 2009

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:

img_0790I 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.


May 1, 2009

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?”


“Well it wasn’t.”

At this point William is fidgeting  and looking shit scared.

“They think I may have had a miscarriage”.


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”.


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

April 25, 2009

no-sex-femaleI 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

April 18, 2009

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’….