Utopos

It's been a year or so since I've seriously thought about you. I'm not sure why you decided to show up in my dream last night. Some highlights then:

- we got cockblocked a few times by my female roommates

- I still don't know if the setting was supposed to be alternative universe!Midd college or unknown!grad school

- there was shower fucking. with no door. in front of the roommates while they ignored the sexy spectacle. idefk

- my dorm room/suite/apartment looked fabulous. Like a Manhattan apartment in the '60s. i want to live there someday.

- there was talking, and not just obligatory-small-talk-before-sex talking either. we were talking, and there were smiles and hand-holding and...feelings? it was all very reuniony-after-a-long-time. pretty sure this is how I want to write my thomas/elizabeth short story XD

Dammit, Old Man. Are you some kind of warning? Are you trying to tell me something? "Don't fuck Diane Lane, fuck someone amazing like me"?

I'm trying to resist, man. It's hard.

Overdue

It's odd. Last May I couldn't stop writing about my one-night encounter with Ben--I still can't stop writing about it. Karen continues to haunt my dreams and my Microsoft Word documents with moments we will never have. I write all these short essays ruminating on my physical experiences with these people, but when I finally, finally--after months and years of wondering waiting agonizing--lose my virginity and have sex for the first time, I can hardly put together two semi-poetic sentences. What can I say? It was remarkable and unremarkable, anticlimactic and yet everything I had hoped for. Maybe, this one time, I am at a loss for words because there is too much to say--or nowhere near enough.

He was essentially a stranger. A friend of a friend I know next to nothing about. He didn't know anything about me either besides the usual information exchanged in introductions: age, school, and vices. The menage a trois I had engaged in the night before made me bold, and I decided that he was the one I would sleep with. Please know that I didn't choose him and expect flowers or a relationship afterwards. I doubted he would take me to previously unexplored sexual heights either. But before you think that I had slept with him simply because he was there, let me explain. He wore wire-rimmed glasses and tight jeans that showed off his ass, made video game references, and awkwardly danced behind me with his hands on my hips to Cee-Lo's debut album.

In short, he was a nice guy, but not so nice that he felt reluctant to bed a virgin stranger. He was patient and took his time to make me comfortable and ready, but also went along with my kinkier requests that left red trails down my back and my own ass feeling slightly numb the next day. The best part was that he still respected me in the morning and didn't treat me any differently. I had known for a long time that my first wouldn't be with a boyfriend or close friend--that would have brought a level of emotional intimacy I was determined to avoid associating with my first brush with sex. I just didn't imagine that an opportunity as perfect as that one would present itself so neatly. When we parted ways, it didn't bother me that I will probably never see him again.

The sex itself was fine. He filled me with a dull fullness that ached pleasantly and managed to last for an adequate period of time before spending himself into a Trojan. As usual, I did not get my happy ending despite his many attempts to do so, and I finished the job after he had fallen asleep. I suppose now that I've had complete sexual relations with a man, I should know once and for all which way I swing, but I've come no closer to discovering the answer than I was before. As a general rule, the first horizontal tango only gets better from here which means I will have to experiment further to gather more conclusive results. However, I will say this: in the threesome, when I let my hand slip past Shauna's belly and touched her there, it was unbearably soft, and I wish my fingers had lingered there longer.

24/7

It's gotten worse since the beginning of winter break. You occupy every free second I have to myself, and all it takes is the thought of your fingers on the back of my neck (or any of the other million things you did to me that night) before I fight to keep my hand from wandering south. You make an appearance (brief or not) in at least half of my dreams now. Whether or not this constant lust for you is healthy no longer matters. I gave up trying to forget you a long time ago.

This won't be a long post. How much more could I elaborate on the night we spent in my room? How much more could I describe the ways in which you drew sigh after sigh--shudder after shudder--from me? I think about all these tiny details, and I instantly lose myself in carnal reverie until someone or something snaps me out of it. No one should ever know how much I have regretted not going all the way with you. No one could ever know how vividly you made me felt throughout the entire experience.

I don't know if I'll see you again. But I'll remember.

The Way to a Woman's Heart is Through Her--

Actually, I have no idea, but for me it's music. And there are certain albums that I will forever associate with certain people, either because something happened while an album was playing or his/her personality just suits the music perfectly. A sample, if you please:

1. Tonight - Franz Ferdinand

Ever since that infamous night in May, I've thought about you on-and-off all summer long, and no, or many, thanks to my mother) you contacted me last Saturday. Alas, I will be in Georgia until February. At least I still have this album to *@!#$%& to.

2. Show Your Bones - Yeah Yeah Yeahs

It's fast and youthful and rash and alive, all of which you are too. "Phenomena" in particular fits you very nicely, dear (mostly because your stereo was blasting this song as we sun-bathed on a grassy hillside.)

3. Arular - M.I.A.

Pretty straightforward. You recommended M.I.A. to me, I listened to her stuff, I decided it was good stuff, and now her debut album is forever tied up in you. She's noisy and experimental with a devil-may-care attitude. Reminds me of someone...

4. Like a Star - Corinne Bailey Rae

It's sweet and sentimental without being too cloying or sickly. The lyrics don't sync, but her voice and the mood certainly do. So yeah, every time I saw you this song came on in my head. Some day, man, some day.

5. Wowee Zowee - Pavement

This album is what I had wanted our relationship to be like--irreverent, light, and fun. And even though we've been done for a while now, I still listen to this album occasionally and wonder what we could have been had I not been so busy and distant.

~~~

Huh, this was an interesting post. I should do this more often.

Love Letters Are Foolish And Sentimental

I wonder if you think of me at all. If you've thought of me even once this summer, like a memory unbidden that you cannot quite forget. You probably don't. Old as you are, there must be plenty of other one-night stands that have made a much bigger impression than I could ever hope to. I was your young, foolish mistake, and I wish you could be reckless all the time.

I remember you at the most inopportune moments. I am working a night shift, the pen in my hand poised to take someone's order when abruptly I can almost (but not quite) feel the slide of your tongue on my thigh, and I drop the pen, startled and flustered. Or I am diligently taking notes in class, and suddenly I hear your voice in my ear, breathless and husky, and the professor could be revealing life's greatest secrets for all I care because right then I cannot process a single coherent thought. Or my parents are telling me something important and instead of filing their pearls of wisdom away, I am distracted by a light pressure on my breasts, ghost fingers brushing over my nipples as they head for parts (un)known.

The smile on your face. The shape of your chin. The jut of your hips. The sweep of your shoulders. I shudder at these snapshot images I had hungrily stored away at the time and conjure them in my mind's eye for later, night-time use.

Was I memorable? Was I your first Asian? Did I leave anything behind?

My God, I want your mouth on my skin again.

Young and Restless

(Again, read at your own risk. Wishful sexytime abounds.)

~~

I've been craving you. At first, I was alarmed that these pangs of longing meant that I wanted you as some kind of boyfriend, holding my hand in public, taking me out on dates--those kinds of romantic strappings. I heaved a huge sigh of relief upon realizing I desire nothing of the sort. On the contrary, my near-constant daydreams feature you and I in decidedly physical situations, each scenario growing more explicit than the last until I can bear it no longer and let my hand wander south.

Unfortunately, my fantasies aren't too imaginative, which I attribute to my lack of experience (sigh.) Mostly they are could-have-beens, different choices I could have made, different consequences, different results. In one dream, I throw caution to the wind and ask you for a condom. The ensuing pain is sharp but brief, and I finally rid myself of my pesky virginity in a one-night stand. Another one is where you have actually pleasured me to orgasm, and I come in your mouth. Overcome by my lustful abandon, you come too, and we end the night literally covered in each other. A particular favorite of mine has you fucking me against the shower, my breasts pressed against your chest, your mouth on the crook of my neck. And on some days all I can picture is you on your knees with your hands on my hips, sprinkling kisses across my stomach and waist. I replay each one over and over in my head until I'm left gasping your name--which reminds me, you don't have a very interesting name. Do you know how many ****'s there are?

So here I am, dedicating yet another post to you: yes, you. Maybe I have way too much free time. Maybe I've been horny for too long. Maybe I'm looking for another muse. Maybe it's all three. In any case, I want you so badly sometimes that I get these aches--a warning sign, perhaps?

Somebody get me a doctor. Preferably a hot one.

Glory Box

I give this post an R-rating. Read at your own risk.

~~

Last night was my first legitimate one-night stand. His name is Ben *******. With brown, curly hair and small, crinkly eyes, he was cute enough for me as I spotted him across the dance floor at the underground lesbian S & M party that took place at a remote corner of the campus. We were dancing with other people when our eyes met, and something clicked into place. As soon as we broke away from our partners, he drew me to him; and we began to dance. The first song had not yet even ended when he dipped his head down for a kiss. It was wet and sloppy, as were all the kisses I had exchanged that night, but he made a point to kiss me on each cheek after messy ones on my mouth. Intrigued, I let him run his hands up and down my hips, let him grab my ass and nip my neck.

We danced nonstop through song after song, and I gradually became more brazen in my grinding, rolling and jerking and sliding against his pelvis until his erection pressed into the small of my back. I was abruptly seized by a stab of guilt then and turned to face him. Flatly, I told him that I am a tease and that this dancing of ours would come to nothing. He surprised me by nodding and continuing to nibble my ear. At this point, I did not really notice anyone else. The crowd was a blur of slick, sweaty bodies that he and I were in the middle of. I could smell it in the air. Everyone was stressed, excited, exhilarated—and incredibly horny. I would be lying if I said I had reigned in my urges and kept myself in check.

We stumbled onto the couch, and he roughly pulled me to his lap, the momentum causing me to fall right on top of him. I lain on him then and sucked at his bottom lip while his hands roamed over my back, my ass, my legs. (But wait, I am a good girl, and good girls are not supposed to do things like that.) After several minutes, he suggested we go someplace more private, and that was when I became tired of playing it safe and thought, Fuck it, why not? I told him in no uncertain terms that I would be calling the shots and directing his actions. We would stop when I wanted to stop. I could kick him out at any time. Again, he looked at me with a hint of a smile in his eyes and nodded. Sure. Whatever you want.

So I took him home last night to my room and locked the door. I played loud music on my computer and dimmed the lights. He grabbed me from behind and nuzzled my neck. I sighed and leaned against him.

~~

Ben is unlike anyone I have had before. He is not impatient to undo my bra or to dig his hand down my pants. He lowers me down slowly onto the futon, eyes locked with mine. His fingers lightly graze across my stomach, the jutting outline of my hipbones, the small space between my breasts. With an awed reverence, he unhooks my bra only after having traced every contour and angle of my body with his mouth. He is not rough. I am being touched as if I am made of glass. Calmly, deliberately, he plants open-mouthed kisses on my chest and flicks each nipple with his tongue. The pants slide off, and at last, I sense the urgency in his actions as he rakes his fingers over the soft flesh of my hips and ass.

He lovingly licks the entire length of my legs, paying special attention to the inside of my thighs while I am still laying there with my knees spread open and inviting as my hands caress and tug his curly brown hair in an effort to find something to do while this lovely young man worships my body. With only my panties left, he slowly takes them off. I am naked now, but I do not feel insecure. Vulnerable yes, but also alluring. Enticing. Apparently, he is thinking the same exact thing because he immediately dips his head down, and I gasp because I never see it coming. I encourage him to add his fingers to the mix, which he is only too happy to do. From there, my mind is empty of all coherent thought.

~~

He sucked and blew every inch of me, murmuring “hot, so hot” the entire time. We touched and felt each other for several hours until the sky began to lighten. Ultimately, I did not orgasm, but it did not matter. I had come to the sweet, little epiphany that sometimes it was not the destination that was important, but the journey itself. I had received the biggest ego boost of my life last night and sexually awakened in a way that should have been reserved for when I am older. When all was said and moaned, he rose up for a kiss to which I gladly obliged. It was tender and gentle and nearly broke my heart in its intensity. We promptly fell asleep, our bodies tangled up in each other, and woke up not many hours later. Our time was almost over.

To delay our goodbyes, he suggested taking a shower together, which I had also never done before. We turned the water heat as hot as it would go and shivered as we touched each other still. He slid to his knees again and buried his mouth inside me. I looked down at him, entranced and aroused by his complete submission, and sighed in pure contentment. We dried off, and he helped me rub lotion on my back. While I was dressed in my skivvies, he pulled me to him for another hug. We kissed. He left. I closed my eyes and smiled. For a rare moment, I was wholly comfortable in my skin, and it showed.

Heel Face Turn

Okay, see that post below this one? Completely disregard it because last night was the night I had my awakening. Wanna know what kind of ***** I have? The kind that makes you go for thirds. Yeah, you heard me right. All these months of stress, deliberate isolation, self-esteem issues, academic failures, and sexual frustrations had coiled into this ball of SUCKAGE that I was convinced I could never escape from. I went to the lesbian bondage party expecting nothing (well, I really wanted to jump on a certain girl, which I did so :D) and left the party with Mr. Slim & Muscular Grad Student. Needless to say, expectations: exceeded beyond human comprehension. The (Wo)Man Upstairs (or Downstairs?) took pity on me and decided to throw me a bone before I launch myself into this Hell Week. I am currently grinning like an idiot and am thoroughly convinced that everything will work itself out. Whoo boy, what a night.