And here comes the crushing mental anguish….

Garrrr…

Went out last night.

Wild, messy, drunken, outrageous…

Jaegerbombs don’t so much disagree with me as headbutt me into the next day, confused and wobbly.

I met up with an old school chumaroo and a few of her nice posh school friends who I didn’t know, and more importantly didn’t know me…. I couldn’t remember their names which I managed to get away with I think, but I did miss out on the juicy gossip later on as I had no idea who any of it applied to.

We danced- the music was shockingly bad, Katy Perry etc, so I figured it was cool to whip out my classic “this is what I think of your music… but secretly I’m really enjoying myself” moves, like the Esmerelda dance of seduction (me flailing my arms slowly in the air, flicking at the wrists and wiggling fingers, pursing my mouth, inexplicably making a “woooooooo” sound.) and the Farmer Joe, which is just some elbow action while I step on all the skinny bitches feet around me, eliminating the competion while rendering myself very unattractive to all the men around me. And the Matrix bullet-dodger of course made an appearance. That’s where in my own demented mind, I’m moving super flexi slow motion, but really I’m just doing the Esmerelda, backwards. And then there’s what I think is a Micheal Jackson inspired move… or supposed to be…. but very embarassing.

I didn’t bother going for any kind of lip on strangers’ lips action because I recently hosted a cock in my nethers and the last time I double-dipped, felt distinctly unclassy afterwards. Plus I’m still kind of reeling in the emotional afterglow of my sexual exploits.

I hate this but it’s pretty hard to escape: I always plan to have a nice sexy time and no strings attached, and then I do have a nice sexy time, and then I start mooning after the man at the base of the dick, and fantasizing about doing it again, and all the compliments on my awesome technique and body he didn’t mention this time, but will definitely mention in the next round.

I really liked this last time, it was super enjoyable. Felt nice and dirty but intimate, urgent but relaxed… I haven’t had a whole lot of good sex like that in my short career sans hymen. And it’s all long ago.

Older guys are good, nice. Also I love guys who aren’t entirely sure of you yet, they get all into the foreplay and try to sell themselves as a potential lover… this is when you get the good proper effort at clitoral findings, and this is the best time to be on the receiving end, orally. He might even put on a happy face, and pretend he likes it. Shut up, I like giving head too, but it’s something I’ve made myself like. I don’t like like it, just like I don’t like like wine. It’s nice- I enjoy it. Tasty. Just not proper tasty, like chocolate, or really enjoyable, like lying in a hammock. It’s a different kind of enjoyable, and you have to cover it up with more enthusiasm because the real, relevant level of enthusiasm would offend the owner of the genitals in question. Anyway yes I’m well aware this could be just me, maybe the rest of you are all well adjusted and really really enjoy giving head… I don’t know. I’m just being honest here.

But instead of being like, yay this works for me, now time to shift the paradigm, no more playing games with dudes my age, get to work on seducing men one generation up… No.

I’m like, ooh I want him to put an arm around me in a possessive manner while the other hand’s fingers probe from behind, past the ass, I’m not into that, but for some reason the rear route to the front turns me on in a big way. I want kisses on my hair and shoulder, I want a slightly frightening grab of the hair and release just before I can be alarmed… I want hot hungry breathy kisses, where some of them miss the mark because they’re urgent and feverish, and I want my undies yanked to one side because the moment is now and there’s no time to undress properly. I want him to run circles around my skin in ticklish fingertips. I want to hear him smell my hair, and I want us to lie there while the sticky cools and not say a word. And I want him to secretly think “Damn, she’s cool… she isn’t asking me what I’m thinking right now” while inside I’m chattering a mantra “resist the urge to ask him what he’s thinking, you know you’ll get a complimentary answer but it will be hollow and mean nothing. And then he’ll think less of you too”.

I don’t want a relationship, I really don’t… Ugh compromise and boredom, no way, no thank you.

But I can’t help wanting each step to be followed by something more awesome. It will take 2 weeks probably for me to get to the point where I can think in a detached way about my evening of passion, and until then I have to bear the crappy hormones and urges and oh yes vanity, driving me to be held again or feel hurt and rejected.

I’m such a sucker, I’m starting to… and the alcohol poisoning from last night might have some blame here…. get all paranoid and freak out that this guy who recently got in my pants will be all regretting it and not wanting to see me again and he probably thinks I’m mad into him and he’s all RUN AWAY, and I just look like a desperate freak and also he’s all, eww, how embarrassing, she was making little sounds of enjoyment, what a loser.

And I mean obviously this is bullshit, right?

It definitely is.

I managed to not lay it on too thick with the sound effects after the last dude to bang me was all “yeah, you talk dirty like you’re in porn, it’s weird” and I was so ashamed and I made a conscious effort to just be cool and only make sounds that sound realistic, although what that means I have no idea because honestly if we could just relax and shut the fuck up, we wouldn’t be making any sounds at all except maybe the odd unattractive grunt. Like, when you play with yourself you don’t moan, so why would sex make you moan? I don’t know, but it seems to be expected or no one will believe you’re enjoying yourself. So this annoys me but fuck it, I love sex.

I just find it a little distracting having to keep up some low key natural sounds that increase in excitedness when I want him to keep doing it LIKE THAT, and try not to go too crazy when it’s a NO, PLEASE NOT MUCH LONGER OF WHATEVER THAT’S SUPPOSED TO BE.

And then sometimes you’re going too loud and too excited at first with the sounds, and then it gets really good, and you have to go louder so he doesn’t think it’s getting worse, but then you know that really you were operating at the high end of the believable volume scale already so now it just sounds fake but you can’t stop now.

And this is why I don’t bother faking orgasms. Too much hassle.

I just out with it straight away, it doesn’t matter I don’t come from sex.

Tends to offend, but at least I don’t have to put on any more of a show.

Man I don’t feel good today.

I also got my period which sucks because it means that even if my recent lover does want to recreate the two-backed beast with me again, I can’t. Not fair at all.

But then he probably is afraid of me and wants nothing more to do with me.

Oh man I can’t deal with this shit any more, my head is spinning… I kind of know I’m paranoid, but I also kind of amn’t sure.

Going to try a power nap and some obsessive refreshing of Facebook.

Laters.

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