Breathtaking Eros

So I don’t really know how I got on Literotica but I was there after spending a few re-writing a chapter in a book I must analyze. Masturbating to erotica and other visual stimulation is interesting for me because I get swollen and super wet as time goes on, much moreso than when I’m living out something in my head. The orgasms are fun albeit a bit more challenging because being so engorged makes finding my hotspots a treasure hunt. But, there I was, reading and rubbing away to some story about a threesome (coincidence) and soon the elusive Orgasm sent me shuddering in my seat. Upon removing my hands from my pants I decided I should wash them, as they were quite sticky. And as I washed away the evidence (and washed my blushing face, too) I noticed a sting on my hand. I look down and see a whole patch of skin has been rubbed away on my hand and is now oozing. Damn it, I didn’t even notice.

What a pain, I’d rather have cock.

Yesterday brought another bout of the picture-craving from Ninja and I did not comply! Bashfulness, angst, and stubbornness on my part. Being quite out of the mood for a time, I didn’t have it in me to want to. “I’m not a lightswitch, you know,” I’d say. “You are when I’m around!” he’d reply in all truthfulness. Yeah, well, he wasn’t there. So what did he do?

He sent me new nude pictures of himself! That sneaky bastard knows just the right buttons to push, doesn’t he? Of course, the reaction was immediate, and I have to say I hated it all the more because it’s no fun to be horny when you aren’t getting the type of satisfaction you crave. Which, of course, was his problem, too. At least we were in the same boat…

So flipping through those pictures I decided to take a shot at reciprocation. Started off slow, removing the clothes, playing with myself, trying to find a good spot in the room with nice lighting (which is damn near impossible, I might say!). And then a whole hoard of people would come into my apartment to chat with Nice Roommate, sending shivers and fears of getting walked in on through me. I locked the door, of course, but the atmosphere was not good for getting down and dirty. I dealt with it okay, though, until Brat Roommate, who shares my room, would keep coming in and out of the apartment. I couldn’t lock her out of her own room, so I had to get dressed, fix my hair, and pretend I wasn’t just trying to be an amateur porn star.

Yeah, I might be able to get by as an amateur. Points for effort, huh? Anyway, that’s not the point!

The point is that I was hot and all I wanted to do was rub one off on camera so he could have a nice, rare video to go along with his collection of pictures (time would change my mind, and I have decided I can’t, just can’t do it out of embarassment). With a newer technique of masturbating I would have been able to go from start to finish in perhaps a minute and a half. I had to hurry. But Brat Roommate entered the apartment one last time, so I, flustered, didn’t even bother with my underwear and bra and put on my just shirt and pants. Perky boobs allow for the effect of wearing a bra without wearing one sometimes. Thank goodness for that.

So that failed miserably, and in my girlish glory I felt crushed and horny and without success.  I got out my sexual frustrations last night slightly, but it’s just not the same. I had a whole list of scenareos in my head which I’d flip through, and I couldn’t last. Too hot.

Today I look again at those photos, and in an artistic nerd-flair I have decided to draw one of the recent ones. Of course I can hardly draw it correctly and I’m all bothered. But I will finish it, even if all I want to do is stab my hands through my monitor and drag him out and fuck my own daylights out.

Oh, the sad, horny girl I am right now.

I’m back to college, with classes starting tomorrow. The gods laughed cruelly in my face this vacation — I never even got a last kiss from Ninja when we departed last weekend. I was not able to meet up with him after that. I’m pretty down about it. There’s more to life and love than kisses and hugs and sex, but it sure is nice. Oh well…

A few days ago I ventured to one of those popular quiz/dating sites that I had forgotten I was a part of, to delete some message I got notified of. They have some instant messaging service, and in the few minutes I was there I got messaged: “Do you like nfcm?” Now, for being rather well-versed with internet lingo, this had me stumped. “Huh?” “Do you like nude female, clothed male situations.” That’s why I didn’t know what he meant. I haven’t ventured into the realm of real-time internet dating, sex and its variants, so… yeah. I said no. The guy was like “Bummer.” Yeah, sorry, I’m good with not letting myself be seen by random men and women. Okay, I’ve thought about it if I couldn’t get a job and if I could get paid for it, but otherwise I’d rather abstain. I have few problems with other people getting their jollies and making money with their assets, but I don’t think I could handle doing it, myself. This blog is as saucy as I’ll get.

So as I had absorbed that encounter, amused that I was so oblivious to the ways of the commoner’s porn system, I got another message in my inbox from someone in my area, “Strange question. Do you like BDSM?” I merely replied with “Yes, that is a strange question.” “Are you interested in a submissive guy?” Wow, way to be determined. No, no, I am not interested in a submissive guy, unless that would happen to be my lover. Which it isn’t. And I am fine with that.

I’m a bit of a fence-straddler when it comes to openness about sex; after all, I’ve got this blog and am quite liberal with my inner thoughts. But I have no interest in providing my flesh for random men to enjoy, nor do I feel like hooking up with a stranger. I’m too cautious and shy and scared and.. hmm.. just not willing to go to that length. Especially given the fact that I have my loyalty to Ninja. Thankfully, at least, the system is efficient. If you get rejected, you move on to the next person, and I imagine eventually you might find someone willing to do what you ask. I didn’t get badgered. No means no.

I remember some years ago being approached by one of my online friends, Terror. I was definitely underage, and I don’t quite remember how it came up in conversation, he told me to.. hmm.. something like “open up sexually” to him. I refused, got freaked out, and Pyro helped me set him straight. I didn’t talk to him for about a year and a half after that. In the past few months he has started talking to me again, and upon learning about my encounter on the dating site, poured his woes on me about wanting a girlfriend, how he wished his past girlfriends were willing to work on things with him in terms of their relationship, and how… he would look to the internet to get sex if he thought it would be successful. Poor boy hasn’t changed a bit.

It’s all about what you’re comfortable with. Me, I’m happy to be left alone and on reserve for one person and one person only. I’m cool with the anonymous label on here, too. I’m just not built to be a porn star!

I was reading one of my new books, “I’m No Saint” by Elizabeth Hayt. So far, she’s your average sexually promiscuous married (then not-married) woman. I downed a hundred pages of it last night, learning about her marriage to her Prince Charming Charlie, and more specifically their failed sex life. No sparks with them. It went back in the years to her school days, and told of losing her virginity by a form of rape by her boyfriend. Her first few partners were jackrabbits out for only their own good. The poor girl got no pleasure from them. Makes me sick with gladness that Ninja is a far throw from those assholes.

Her sex life looks up, though, as she finds her first partner that’s got brains and talent with his cock. She gets g-spot orgasms and then all of the sudden the story explodes with nonchalant mentionings of, “I gave the dentist head, and got my pussy eaten out behind the bleachers of a game by another random fellow…” and I’m left wondering how such standings occur. She has yet to have explained how she happened to find herself in those situations. That would be an interesting read. The only thing she explained was how she stripped, teased, and allowed a rich old man to masturbate while she did so in front of him. Not exactly my choice of recipiants, I suppose.

One point of interest, however, lies earlier in the book. A friend of hers would come to play at her house, but once the door was closed, she and her friend would masturbate together. What? I’m not the only one? That was quite interesting to read. According to her, she found out how to pleasure herself with a pencil eraser on her clit, through her underwear. The vagina itself was off-limits and uncharted, frightening territory. Right she was!

No, I didn’t honestly believe that I was the only straight girl to have masturbated in the presence of another. But it’s a hush-hush scenario. Ironically, said girl, Rufus, now has proclaimed lesbianism as well as an admitted masculinity. It doesn’t turn all of us into lesbians, however. It happened by accident, and it just continued because there was not much point in pretending it hadn’t happened. Actually, Rufus wanted me to teach her things. She’d never known the word “masturbation” and rarely did it (she didn’t know how, but somehow conquered the bath spout method) never really even looked at herself in the mirror. I was somewhat more exploratative than her and shared my knowledge. I don’t really like to talk about it, I suppose. Not even here, shrouded in anonymity… and here I am, wondering why it’s hush-hush, when I myself don’t elaborate on it.

It was a unique experience, that’s for sure. Perhaps less unique than it seems, and that’s something of a relief. Makes me realize how hazy one’s sex life is, or can be.

She just fucked her contractor. How crazy is that? I’ll go back to reading, now.

Damn, I just finished it. The ending was the most disappointing thing I’ve read in a long time. Ugh!

With my gift cards to book stores I took advantage of Barnes & Noble’s super-cheap post-New Years sale. I got a couple books of classy sex stories, among them being Best Sex Writing 2005, edited by Violet Blue. I like what I’ve read so far of the short stories, they’re obviously well-written and engaging. I had to laugh at the story about the girl (who was transsexual) who had her barbies and dolls have sex. Hey, who didn’t, right? I remember Barbie and Ken getting it on right in front of my closet doors. And I even recall the disturbing event of seeing my friend Crooked’s own Barbie and Ken stuffed under her pillow, curiously naked and laying on top of each other. And this was when we were well into our mid-teens, haha. I never said a word, of course.

That brings to mind the time she snuck into her parent’s room and showed me one of their romance and erotica novels. We were quite young, and I don’t remember if I’d discovered masturbating yet. We read some of it, confused and curious and mostly ignorant of the word-usage.

In other news, I didn’t get to see Ninja yesterday. In fact, I heard nothing from him at all, so sex is the last thing on my mind.

We’ll see how I like the rest of the books I got when I get the inclination again to devour them.