Breathtaking Eros

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.

So Eros has put my libido in full swing and I hate it. I masturbate all the time, I dream about sex, I can’t concentrate on anything. It’s a pain. I was talking to one of my close male friends, Pyro, and he laughed his ass off at me and told me I had the mentality of a man. Well, we had talked about the end of the world and I said I’d be one of those people who’d want to get laid beforehand, and also that Valentine’s Day (today) should be free sex day and lets all orgy. I was joking about that second part, but if Ninja were within grasp I’d be doing him right now.

If I can’t have sex, I might as well talk about sex with people who can handle it. Which includes you fine people, thanks for being part of my therapy! It’s something of a relief, made me laugh quite a bit. Funny the things you learn about people, too… Including the fact that one of my more innocent friends has a catgirl fetish. I think that’s hilariously cute, but it’s on the down-low. And he didn’t start masturbating ’til he was in college, he said. I had to choke back my pity, poor boy.

For Valentine’s Day I am to send Ninja a few pictures, and he is to do the same. Or he’d damn well better. I was only able to get in one pic of my boobs nicely being thrust out of my shirt before Brat Roommate came back from class. His response was to tell me he was going to fuck my brains out when he saw me next. That.. did NOT help. I want him now, now, now. I want his cock, now. Off with my clothes, now. Lock out the roommate, now. Now, now, not. Whine, whine, whine.

I am so frustrated right now…

Not much exciting to say; I’m a bit stressed and sorry for myself. Classes have started and setting up life in this city is a bit intimidating. Stuff like this makes me sleepy, and I haven’t even played with myself in a couple days. Not that I haven’t had my share of horiness, though, so thankfully I’m not completely broken. Whew!

Yesterday Ninja caught me online and we talked a bit. He requested some pictures, and I just couldn’t do it. I don’t feel hot, I don’t feel sexy, I just didn’t feel like it. Instead, I wanted pictures of him. He, however, did not have time to himself at that moment. Boo, I say. A few days ago I used a nude photo of him for a drawing I had planned on making complete and cool. Instead, I got too into looking at him and I drew too largely, cutting off his head and leaving it just a study. Oh yes, I remember that body. I remember being pressed against his skin, fresh from the shower, cool to the touch but warm to the bone. It’s a sight, I tell you. A fucking sight. And I just want a bit more… Oh, yeah, I’ll finish that drawing some day.

He did, however, say that he craved me. That word, “crave,” is a special word to me. It’s pretty strong and significant in my mind, and makes me feel nice and saucy inside. Unfortunately, it didn’t make me feel saucy enough to give him good pictures. It made me feel all conflicted and crazy with wanting and a whole slew of other things, so I didn’t get to take advantage of his wanting me, and instead we argued a tad until he got better things to do. Damn it. But I love that word.
A great many things should be damned. Sooner or later I’ll get pictures… sooner or later I’ll get some. Get some. Get some!

I broke up with Ninja yesterday. After his assurance he’d call and take me out on our first date of this vacation, he failed to call and tell me he was working late again. The next day I still did not talk to him in person, and had only a night-given IM message informing me that he worked late. I couldn’t handle the let-down, and called him multiple times trying to get a hold of him. With no reciprocation, I eventually left him a voicemail.

I managed to get a hold of him this morning, and we talked for a few hours. There is hope. This isn’t a relationship blog, this is a sex blog, so I won’t talk about it here except to say that basically this means that my libido has gone haywire. After my marathon(!) a few nights ago I’ve dried up and felt not aroused in the slightest towards anything. Though, that might be because the story I read in my books was about a DragonCon. Furries creep me out. I didn’t even finish it. Ugh, furries. No offense to the furry community… god knows I’ve been around it for half of my life.

It’s silly, but I don’t know if I’ll ever have sex again. It’s really quite trivial, too, worrying about having sex. And I don’t really care about it. I remember, I quit eating Swiss Cake Rolls cold turkey. From second grade until two years ago I had probably two of those things a day, up to three in high school. Nope, it doesn’t matter how much you like something. Sometimes you’ve got to worry about something larger and just give it up.

At least in this case, I can play with myself if I have to.

I looked good today; my hair’s at a flattering length still, and it curled under the way I liked. The back was messy and flipped out a bit, another thing to my tastes. Not eating more than 700 calories a day for the past three days has left me feeling surprisingly well, if not a few pounds lighter. It’s not really on purpose; lately I just can’t eat.

It doesn’t matter. I feel rabid. I feel ravenous. I am like a tornado, red hot and self-destructive, misunderstood and beautiful. I masturbated four times last night. I might have screamed as I did just a few days ago.

Shit, man. I am a mess of emotions, and my body is aching to get rid of them. Strange how connected they seem to be. Or maybe they aren’t very connected at all, and it’s just my perception laying the blame when I see fit. When I’m happy I’m usually horny, when I’m angry I’m usually horny, and despite what they say, when I’m depressed I’m horny because I want to feel something good. Sure that’s a generalization, but you catch my drift.

I wish I’d have brought my vibrator home right about now. My hands get tired. I wonder if I’ll indulge myself anyway. Part of me doesn’t feel worthy. Oh well, huh? Who can say.

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.