Unfortunately, given my state of affairs with Ninja and his continued reading of this place, it’s best for me to not write in this blog anymore. Since I have gotten into the habit of documenting my sex life I’m going to make another elsewhere eventually, but I can’t redirect to it.
Thanks to those who have visited… maybe you’ll find me again. I’ve learnt my lesson, anyway. See ya :]
Men. And attraction. From the get-go I have been a quiet girl. From the get-go, I have been attracted to the more energetic types. Popular guys, outgoing guys, guys that definitely have a spark inside them and a whole other labyrinth past their outer façade. That is always very enticing. I love to see the enigma inside people. Especially those who are so outgoing that their inner self is just that much more interesting. Luckily for me, some of them have been attracted to me, too.
One of the first guys I went out on a date with was a drummer. He was extremely talented, quite attractive however big-boned, and in general an entertaining, engaging person to be around. As is typical of me, I was very surprised when he approached me and we went out to the movies, and so on. Things didn’t progress much beyond that. I just wasn’t as attracted to him as he was to me, and he was more shallow than I’d have liked.
A long-term crush I had was on a sexy skinny goth boy. He was gorgeous, flamboyant, artistic, photogenic, and unique in a genuine way. Black on him was sexy. Now him I actually began to pursue, except we never went on an actual date, more just hung out together. We went to almost all of my high school dances, and that was fun. He lived far away, though, and it was a pain getting together. That didn’t go anywhere.
Ninja was another person who was firey, talented, attractive, and overwhelmingly complicated. Exactly the sort of person I liked to be around. What draws a person like him to a person like me? Opposites attract, right? I guess they did. However our relationship fizzled, the fact remains that my trend continued.
And it continues still. Events I cannot yet articulate are unfolding… I’ll see about explaining them later.
My buddy Octopus and a bunch of people from the outer edges of my social group were going to this club Thursday night featuring a band I’d never heard of. I’d only been to a club, oh, like, once, plus I’m a cheap ass that doesn’t like the idea of paying $10 just to get into a place. Well, this was the only club around here I could get into, basically, because I am under 21, and our previous plans fell through, so I was thinking about it. Then I was given a small amount of alcohol and decided I should enjoy my night, screw the fact that I had class at 8am the following morning, and let it all hang out.
I put on that black top I like for special occasions, a pair of boots Brat Roommate lent me, and got strapped down to the chair for a bit of primping at Brat Roommate’s disgression. When the whole process was done I was feeling pretty sexy and excited. I got a good reception from people which was a nice, muchly-needed refreshment.
So the club was pretty hot. Temperature-wise, and just the atmosphere. It was rather small, but good music was abundant. They had just some normal dance tracks playing at first, and then the band came on, and then we had a sweet DJ with a mullet for the rest of the time I was there. I hadn’t been dancing in so long… I forgot it was like a massive orgy. Some people were basically having sex through their clothes, complete with the O-face. That’s a way to dance, right? I got felt up a few times and had to gently decline further advancement. I wasn’t there to get a hook-up. People are just so friendly! Hah. It was just great fun. I mean, typically I’m pretty defensive about people running into me and being all up in my face, but that’s what you get when you’re at a club, so I was quite prepared. When the band played I got pushed up in front; I didn’t mind that of course.
Octopus was my dance partner most of the night, in between some other friends from my college that came out. He’s a fine dancer, good rhythm and all those nice things. I’d love to go again, because it was great to just let loose and move my body, releasing just a little bit of sexual energy. Everyone sweat like crazy, but that made it all the hotter. Faces, bodies and limbs close, people everywhere going to the same beat (well, unless they sucked at dancing) and it was a sensory overload.
I left around 1am, and I was ready to crash in bed. Unfortunately, Brat Roommate and her new boyfriend went to bed at the same time I did and decided to not wait long enough for me to fall asleep to get it on. I sleep with my iPod on me, so I didn’t hear it at first, but those three seconds in between angry songs were quite enough for me to hear bits of heavy breathing and blankets shuffling. Instead of throwing a book at them, as I should have done, I just turned up my music. I really should have said something, but I just wanted to go to sleep... I left Octopus behind at the club, as he wanted to stay, but I was up half the goddamn night anyway. I might as well have stayed.
So now I have sour thoughts towards Brat Roommate. Being single and without a desire to get a benefits friend I can’t fulfill my evil dream of payback by way of fucking while she is trying to sleep, my only option would be to masturbate. But I just can’t do that, I’m not naughty or angry enough… so I’ll just keep my sullen thoughts to myself. I guess there are worse things to worry about.
So Ninja and I are no more.
The whole thing is quite vexing, disappointing, and unhealthy, but all I can do is move on. This blog is about sex, though, so I’ll try to stay on topic. It’s a bit of an untimely shame, without taking into consideration all the gloomy details, because in just a few weeks’ time I’ll be back home for a week, and before things got nasty I had high hopes for sexual enjoyment. It never failed me.
So no one can tell when the next time I’ll get sexual enjoyment will be. Of course, I’ve always got stuff to write about, so don’t fret. But, damn it. Square one.
Temporary solution? Masturbate.
Some of you may have heard of the “sex challenge” some pastor in Florida recently issued to his followers. Google it up or click here. Married couples are supposed to have sex for thirty days straight, and singletons are supposed to abstain for that time period. I think that’s kind of harsh for the single people. They should have some sort of option.
I want a sex challenge. What can I do, being separated from my sex partner? I guess I could masturbate for thirty days, but that’s not too much of a challenge. I’ll have to think of something colorful. Masturbate in a different place for thirty days? Haha. Risky. Any ideas?
I think I’m being punished. I really, really do, and I’m not sure what to do about it.
Anyway, I had some free time last night so I decided to do some cardio kickboxing. Got on my sports bra, shorts, shoes, bandana, put on some good beats and was jabbing and kicking my way around my room while I was alone. Worked up a good sweat, tried not to let myself wuss out, and did a pretty good job. I’m a weakling, I don’t dare count on my two hands the number of push-ups I can do. But that’s alright, huh?
So I grabbed my robe and headed to the bathroom to shower. I caught myself in the mirror, of course. We’re all at least accidental narcissists. I think I look kind of hot when I’m all worked up like that. And when my hair’s up, you can see the bone structure of my face. Mmm, jawline. One of the best parts on a man. Shame there ain’t no men here…
So I took my shower and washed away all my sexy looks. I’m saving them. For someone special.
Today is Ninja’s and my one-year anniversary. I don’t really know what to do with myself, at the moment. Just one year, but a full one year. The best and most insane year yet!
I’d love to sit over dinner and talk. Go out on a date, dress up all sexy, nibble his ears and hold his hand. Tap on his feet with my toes and grin a silly grin. Play games, debate things, and draw together. Naked. And lead into some intercourse with all the works. I’ve never had a landmark like this. Just like any other day, I wish I could show him that I love him. With lots of physical attention. Lots.
Thus is the life of a sad girl in love!
So, since I can’t be treated to a fine dinner, can’t cuddle under a blanket watching a movie, can’t strip him of his clothes and start the fireworks on the nearest stable (or unstable) surface and so on, what can I do? Damn it. All I can do is take pictures and a bit of video. That’s not good enough, but I guess that’s all I’ve got at my hand.
Ninja has been bugging me to strip for him, haha… take pictures of that. It started from the Valentine’s Day pictures I sent him, in which I played dress up and donned some fishnets and my lovely, fitted, black strapless shirt. It was meant to be a joke, really, at first. I asked him if he liked fishnets, and he said, “on some legs.” Well… did he like them on mine? So I hopped on my desk, set the timer, and struck a pose. And he decided that he wanted more, and more, and more. He’s likened his desire for photographs to an addiction. That was his V-Day gift, me in fishnets being sexy. (He still owes me MY pictures…) And after such escapades he decided that he wanted pictures of me stripping. Oooohh silly boy, I’ve never done such a thing. He didn’t care, naturally. “I’ll be your coach!” he piped up. Yeah, sure…
I don’t know. Maybe I’ll see about taking some pictures for him of that nature. It’s just a pain in the ass, resorting to such things. I don’t want to give him a cute folder of hot pictures. I want to be there, do it in person! Haha, that would probably be worse. But, still, damn it all. I hate how big the world is, I just want to have a day with my boyfriend.
Angst!