He Couldn’t Contain his Excitement (part 2)

premature ejaculation man

premature ejaculation man (Photo credit: bioxid)

(And when I think about it, looking in the mirror that day even made ME hot! I was like dang when the heck did I get so freaking luscious and irresistible? How did this happen?!)

So, just as he should have done, he made no comment whatsoever about the fact that my half-naked breasts—rising and falling with every breath, jiggling with any hint of movement or laughter—were just begging to be caressed. We both knew that he would never be able to get out of my house without doing that.  Even a gay priest would have done it in spite of himself. Shoot, I would have done it, and I’m not even a lesbian (I don’t think.)

Well then, if you are looking for some sort of admission of guilt, there you have it. If I were going to feel badly it would be for how perfectly I laid the bed-trap for him to fall into. However, the reason I don’t feel badly is because I didn’t do it with him. I couldn’t. I was on my period. And for me, that is a definite no-no. Honestly I think I only ever did it twice while menstruating; once was sort of against my will, and the other was somewhat without my prior knowledge. (I’ll explain that at another time.)

Haven came all over himself and I didn’t even touch him!!

Well…no. I mean I didn’t touch him there. Well, okay, yes I did: at his insistence.

But I didn’t freaking jerk him off or anything.  He was actually one hundred percent dressed, pants totally zipped up and all.  And that’s the truth, even if no one believes me.

The way it happened was this. He had been there for only a little while before he said he really had to leave. I put on my very best wide-eyed pouty look, cuter than any puppy you’ve ever seen. I looked so sad that he just melted and said, “awww, well, give me a hug. And he pulled me to him, squeezing me tightly. Then there was that unmistakable moment of utter silence when two people are lost in their own thought about the implications of what is about to happen.



He Couldn’t Contain his Excitement (part 1)

English: Cropped version of a photo taken from...

English: Cropped version of a photo taken from http://www.flickr.com of a woman wearing a blue bra. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Have you ever made a guy ejaculate without touching him? I mean just by looking at you? If you have, then welcome to the prestigious circle with me. I didn’t even know I possessed such power, but apparently I do. Or at least that’s how it seemed…

A few years ago I met this guy, Haven, almost completely by accident because I needed a new tire and the shop where I usually go didn’t have what I needed. And now I ask you, “Why do I always only want the ONE guy that I cannot have?” Why am I doomed to never meet this guy first, before he is already obligated? I’m not exactly proud of what I did, and I would really be an emotional wreck if I didn’t have such a sturdy and resistant conscious. But since I do then I’m frequently able to keep things in perspective when other women start that insipid self-loathing and self-deprecation.

I mean, no one can say I literally seduced the man. He is a grown man after all, accustomed to operating in a man’s world—which is more than I can confidently say for a couple of my sexual partners (or victims, based on whose viewpoint you ascribe to). He accepted my invitation to lunch with his own motives even if it was only ostensibly to allow me to properly thank him for pulling some strings to get his friend to pass my car through the inspection this year, if you know what I mean.

However I am mature enough to admit that meeting him at the door with a see-through black tank-top that didn’t even pretend to cover the fuchsia lace push-up bra that lifted, separated and left bare almost half of my breast would have put him into the strange predicament of having to either pretend that he had suddenly gone legally blind, or that he simply was not truly a member of the male sex.

And really I don’t hold it against him for his premature ejaculation. Under normal circumstances that would have been downright unforgiveable. But when I think about it, there was not a lot going on in his favor at that moment when he arrived at my house:

Just in case the sight of my upper body wasn’t enough for him, I’d also donned low-rise body-hugging, highly stressed jeans that strategically allowed the tip of the satin and lace fuchsia panties to show. The sparkling, dangling earrings that were a perfect color match to my should-be-hidden undergarments, the nearly 30 pounds gone from my body since I’d first met Haven 6 months ago, the knowledge that he was alone with a beautiful, discreet woman who is head-over heels for him in spite of the fact that he’s happily living with someone…well, I suppose all those things working together would be enough to bring any man to his senses about what inevitably must be done in this moment…


Banana Split (or “Why I ran away Lickety Split”) part 3

Banana split

Banana split (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

As you know we DID meet up. It was already terribly late and there was nothing to do but do directly to a hotel that he was forking over the money to get. Having been recently released from jail for some kind of conviction regarding sexual crimes with an underage girl (he said it was totally bogus) he didn’t have a job yet, so he either borrowed the money from his younger brother as he said; or he stole it from his mother’s pocketbook while she was distracted by driving him to meet me at the hotel. Whatever.

He didn’t look bad at all. Shaved head, tattoo, a piercing or two. He was as muscular as he’d claimed he was on the phone; you know, nicely built without being intimidating. Hmph. This was going to be a good night.

We went into the room and he didn’t waste a moment getting busy. A couple of perfunctory kisses and he was ready to fulfill all his promises about making my body feel like it was his favorite platter of food. OH MY! I relaxed into his groove and let him live out all his pent up jailbird fantasies…

Things were actually great until he was ready to be reciprocated. PLEASE don’t get me wrong. If you’ve been following me up until now you will remember that I can’t think of anything I love more than giving a good blow job. So I didn’t balk at the idea of doing that…it’s just that it was hard for me to believe that I was really and truly the only person he’d been with since he’d completed his sentence a few days ago. And Lord only knows where he might have been putting that thing while he was actually locked up!

Still, it seemed only fair that one should give as well as take; and Archangel really had been a perfect angel. I debated with myself. I decided against it; then vacillated. Oh, what the heck! Might as well…

But when he pulled down his boxers I was confronted with something I’d never beheld before: an 8 ½ in BANANA. No, really. It was a perfectly curved banana that was so shocking that I couldn’t even go through with it. It not only curved right in the middle, but came to a tapered conclusion right at the head. This was more than I could take.

As long as his hypnotic voice had been sowing in my mind visions of chocolate, caramel, and ice cream and all the fun and dangerous things that could be done with them it was all good fun. But having this banana sticking up in my face like it wanted to be made into a banana split just made me nauseous.

In the end I just went home. He had to find his own way back to wherever he lived.

Banana Split (or “Why I ran away Lickety Split”) part 2

Banana split 2

Banana split 2 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Archangel wanted us to get together immediately and just to show you how insane I can be at times, I confess that I would have done it despite the fact that he came right out and told me that he had only been out of jail 5 days and wanted me to be the first person he did it with since his release after more than a year inside. Why would I have done such a thing? Only the heavens know how on earth this young man managed to so intrigue me that I may as well have been hypnotized.

The thing that managed to keep distance between us for those first few hours was only the fact he lived in another city with his mom and didn’t have a car or valid license. I just couldn’t see myself running out of the house to go pick him up when I didn’t even know his REAL name. I do have my standards after all. I do have to at least know a first name. Or a last name. Or an authentic alias.

I mean, there was only ONE occasion–that I can remember–where I didn’t know the name of the person I was having sex with. And even that wasn’t really my fault when you think about it. It wasn’t that I didn’t ask; it was simply that the music was so loud that I couldn’t really fully distinguish the meaning of the syllables that he put together. That was a big hindrance. Well, that and the fact that whatever he said was not an English name. Anyways, that’s  another story.

Back to Archangel: the guy had so successfully turned me on just by the

sound of his hypnotic voice and the creepy, nasty, beautiful things he proposed doing to me that I guess there was really no way I was ever going to be able to resist a get-together. I’m betting that spending a year locked up in prison gives one a lot of free time to think about creative sex. Honestly Archangel rivaled the one other guy who has ever been able to bring me to near-orgasm just by unbuttoning my shirt with his teeth and lips while describing every aperture and crevice in my body that he planned to screw…and even between my toes! I’ll have to tell you about him one day…

Still this Puerto Rican guy was the freakiest because he always had food stuck in the middle of his sex fantasies. Food and spirituality. I bet being in jail gives one powerful food cravings as well as sexual ones. Oh, and the spiritual stuff was probably based on the fact that he was studying for his Master’s Degree in Divinity. Or Theology. Or something along that line.

I’m not sure who was more twisted, Archangel…or ME for agreeing to meet up with him.

Banana Split (or “Why I ran away Lickety Split!”) part 1

Banana, split to 3

Banana, split to 3 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

There was this Puerto Rican guy I met who went by the name of Archangel. Yeah, I know what you’re thinking: why would you waste time on a dude who is vain enough or delusional enough to refer to himself that way? Believe me, I ask myself this very question all the time.

The thing is that it wasn’t his real name; it was his handle on a certain internet dating site. Don’t go lecturing me! I will never under any circumstances fall into the trap of those singles’ dating web sites again, but this occurred before I had learned my lesson the hard way.

I was at home bored stiff because the guy who I was supposed to be seeing hadn’t called for his usual Friday Night Hook-up. I would show him. I knew how to go looking for my own fun. I was only online for a few minutes before I was completely upset for even bothering to log on to my unused account. In the very moment I was about to log out, I get kiss or wink or something from a brand new guy. “Why not?” I thought. And that was the beginning of sorrows.

One of his first comments was a very graphic one about what he’d like to do to me. No, I don’t remember word for word what he said, but it definitely involved chocolate and cream. I was as shocked as if I’d been blasted with a stun-gun and I felt very peculiar between my legs. Yeah, just like that.

You know me. I don’t generally fall for guys that come on that strong with the first thing that comes out of their mouth. But what he wrote was so explicitly disgusting and unimaginable, that my uterus started contracting even as my brain and other sensibilities stood aghast. Archangel was the first guy ever to leave me utterly speechless. In spite of everything inside me telling me to stop communication with this freak immediately, I found myself glued to my laptop screen.

Why I DESERVED the Next Online Dating Nightmare (part 3)

obtaining profile pics for online dating sites

obtaining profile pics for online dating sites (Photo credit: torbakhopper)

Here’s a twist you probably were not expecting: He didn’t seem any happier with me than I was with him! Like, WTF?

This has never—I repeat, NEVER—happened to me before. I was stunned speechless.

We gave each other the most perfunctory sort of little embrace I’ve ever participated in and then maintained a safe enough distance from each other during our entrance into the building to assure anyone looking that we were NOTHING but friends.

I ordered a salad, something I could pick through quickly due to my loss of appetite, both literal and sexual. I don’t remember what he got. Conversation was dull and rushed and I remember trying my best NOT to be seen by anyone I knew. It wasn’t that he was a hideous monster or anything. It’s just that he looked so NOT like the sexy photo he’d taken…or maybe he DID look like that dark, blurry photo.

I could hardly concentrate on my own dissatisfaction with him, though because his unhappiness with me was almost palpable. How could this happen?

I certainly had not lied about my height or weight. Unless you count checking the box for “average” instead of “short.” And unless you count putting “could stand to lose a few” instead of “fat.” I personally don’t think that’s such a big deal when you consider my truly sparkling personality, my wit, and the true beauty of my soul, right? Besides, no other man had ever seemed so downright peeved with me. What was this guy’s problem?

Needless to say we were both eager for ANY reason to cut the evening short and he could hardly mention the fact that he had to work the next day before I was already standing up to leave. I drove home in a frustrated rage with myself on two counts. Number one for being so freaking gullible as to imagine that you can really assess how a person looks from just one dark photo. And number two, for actually wanting this guy to STOP disliking me.

Don’t get me wrong. I NEVER wanted to see him again, period. I just hated the feeling of sitting at a dinner and not being appreciated and wanted! In spite of myself I’d tried to be winsome and charming. All to no avail. What kind of beast was he? None of my “stroke-the-male-ego” tricks worked either. There was just absolutely no chemistry between us and no hope. And no desire for any hope.

So again, one can never post too many photos in their profile pic when indulging in online dating. Not only do I wish I’d demanded that he post more; to my own chagrin I admit that I wish I’d posted more too. Maybe we would never have bothered to meet at all!

Why I DESERVED the Next Online Dating Nightmare… (part 2)

An example of one of True's online ads.

An example of one of True’s online ads. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Well friends, you most likely have a lot more experience in the internet dating arena than I did back then. So it goes without saying that you are also very much aware of Lesson #2: Require MORE than one picture in your potential date’s profile.

An addendum to this requirement is that the candidate’s pictures should ALL be recent, meaning taken within the last calendar year. All of the shots should be in BRIGHT lighting, just like mug shot downtown. And at least ONE of those photos should be taken at a profile angle.

Is this really necessary, you ask. I realize that you probably think that this is going a bit overboard and the requirements are pretty stringent. Suit yourself if you don’t want to follow my advice, but don’t say you weren’t warned. If you have a tendency to be lenient with people you are sooner or later about to end up in the predicament in which I found myself with Fred when we finally agreed to meet at the IHOP.

A very dark sort of dude pulled up just as I was pulling into the parking lot and I remember thinking, Oh Dear Lord, please don’t let this be him. My stomach hurt very badly from self-reproach and guilt. The thing was that I had sped away from Bible Study that night pretty early, hoping to make a connection serious enough to warrant sleeping together and I could already see before he got out of the car that my plan was going to fall through. If that was God intervening for me I really wish He’d done something BEFORE I met this guy face to face!

Very apprehensively I got out of my car. I would have simply driven away but I knew he’d already spotted me too. I just couldn’t be that indecent…although now I wish I had. You will not BELIEVE what happened next.