Breathtaking Eros

Ninja and I were talking last night, of course. It all started about those savory pictures he sent me yesterday… a measly 600px wide, haha. I sweetly asked if he could not resize them so small. And when I exclaimed that “bigger is better” well, he evilly twisted it all around to mean that his penis was small.

Now, while I’m not the sort of girl to discriminate, I knew as soon as I saw it that Ninja’s member was above average. That amazed and scared me, I admit. I also knew that it’s not all about size in any respect; it’s just as much about the gift of talent and technique. And now I know that I’ve got a man with good dimensions and he knows how to use it. How lovely is that?

And the poor boy has spent too much time watching porn and thinks he’s inferior. He said, “I see it every day.” Yes, he does. He looks down at it every day. We artists know all about perspective! I see it from every angle, and my vagina knows it pretty well, too. Together we’ve come to the conclusion that his penis is basically awesome.

Ninja, however, delt a low blow. He brought up how he hasn’t been able to get me to climax. I don’t really think he knows the statistics of women who can/cannot have an orgasm from PIV intercourse alone. Something like 20%. The rest of us have to work at it, and either it happens at some point, or it doesn’t happen at all. And that really does not bother me one bit. I gleefully accept that I can go almost over the moon with him with or without my vagina convulsing. Maybe I have gotten close, and sabotaged my own potential orgasm. Maybe not! Either way, it’s safe to say that we are certainly sexually compatible. I’m pretty happy having the ability to drive him crazy with pleasure, myself.

“Maybe it if was longer.” Ugh, no, I don’t think that would have much to do with it. In fact, the positions in which I’ve felt most close to orgasm is, to the best of my memory, me on top, either cowgirl or with us sitting. And in those positions, there isn’t a LOT of length involved in the in-and-out. So, shot down.

And then he said something that was pretty infuriating. “Maybe because you haven’t had better.” Okay. I can’t really battle that too well; that is a dirty weapon to pull out. Yes, Ninja was the first. All I’ve got to compare it to is Stanley, the shiny silver dildo. And Stanley was a huge let-down. And you know what? I don’t care to test the theory that there might be some other guy out there who could drive me up the wall with orgasm after orgasm. I honestly don’t. It’s almost like a purity thing, but it’s more the fact that I am too obscenely obsessed with Ninja and his tool. Maybe it’s the girl in me, but I’m in love with him and I get the most pleasure I’ve ever had, sexually, from him. That is the most perfect scenario a woman of my age could ask for. And it has just begun.

“After a lifetime of nothing, a piece of straw would leave you sore.”

Fuck, that bothers me. He was the first, and I am planning on him being the only. I never really thought my sexual history would come and bite me in the ass like that. I refuse to be invalidated by it.

I can grasp the fact that I’m sure it would give him a huge ego boost, and just make him feel good to the core that he could give me an orgasm. But, you know, I’m pretty positive it’s not him. It’s me, it’s my physiology and my psychology and my everything else. I’m working on it! He should not take it out on himself.

Man, I was just glad I could fit it in my mouth when I first tried giving him a blowjob. I thanked the gods for my huge jaws in that moment. And I also thanked them when he took my virginity, and every time I got sore from the pounding, because if I were any tighter, that would suck for me.

And he took the challenge and said he’d measure himself when his roommate went to bed. I saw the message he left me this morning, “Maybe you were right. If those numbers were accurage… 7 length, 6 girth.” I’ll have to ask him and make sure he measured properly, but I must take the moment to announce that I estimated his length this whole time to be 7 inches, haha.

Fuck, man. Doesn’t matter if he’s 7 or 4 or 20 inches. He’s got it good. He has got it good. And when we come back from the airport in 9 days, I’m going to show him just how good he’s got it.

When I first started having intercourse, I admittedly was not worried about “being good.” My first time I didn’t have too much time to think about being good–we were interrupted by an infuriating number of phone calls from psycho Rufus. And since then, by the word of dear, authoritative Ninja, he hasn’t really had any complaints on my performance. In fact, he’s praised me for getting better (haha, all my researching was NOT done in vain). Thank god, right?

But now! I haven’t had sex in weeks, months! What if I forgot how? What if… what if…

No, impossible. I’m a quick learner, anyway. And, hell–I plan on picking up right where things left off… I think he’ll be pleased. I know I will be, oh yes. Oh yes.

My (future husband) confessed today that his ultimate fantasy is lifting my dress up and having his way with me as SOON as we get to our hotel on our wedding night. The bridezilla in me is screaming “Noo! It’ll ruin my $5000 dress!!!…that I’ll never wear again..but still!”

 Wow. That woman is absolutely crazy. That would be awesome.

 truebrideconfessions.com is an addictive site. It’s one of a handful of websites designed around anonymous confessions. Many deal with sex; too much sex, not enough, and everything in between. Really quite fascinating.

I still think that woman is messed up. I vow to never become Bridezilla. And, fuck that, I’ll never have a $5,000 dress. Take me to Italy instead.

Ninja has an unquenchable thirst for pictures, which I’m pretty happy to provide. It’s all we’ve got, right? He gives me a share for myself of his own savory physique from time to time; thank goodness, as I’m, well, ready to snatch up anything I can get from him. I try to give him a goodly amount, however, as time goes on, I am running out of ideas. I’ve kept things pretty softcore, as, the only nude pictures I’ve taken of myself, really, have been for my own curiosity’s sake. You know, when you just want to see what something looks like. I’m definitely not extravagant or gutsy enough to really go above and beyond and give him too much in the way of boner-provoking material. My props aren’t too sexy, either. Just a normal, artsy dorm room.

Except, yesterday, I went a step above. Frankly, sometimes I get angry. Angry that I don’t take good pictures, that I don’t have good ideas, that I don’t know what he’d like to see. Angry when I feel unattractive, which I hate and simply makes me more angry… I don’t typically worry about that much, but it’s something every girl goes through from time to time. Ninja, of course, hits me with his point-blank reasoning, “You’re the one who has a problem with me seeing you.” Ohhh, damn that truth.

So he went off to watch a movie, and I mulled it over. Mild frustration led me around and around. No, I wasn’t going to take anything for him. Grr. Grr! Oh, but then I took a deep breath. I was irritated, and for no reason. He wouldn’t poke and prod every chance he got if he didn’t want it, right? Duh! And what do I do when I’m angry, know I shouldn’t be, and have time on my hands?

I masturbate.

So I planted myself on my lovely found shawl (who knows what STIs might linger on this floor), propped my camera up and made it ready for the big moment. I took out my trusty pink vibe (my newer one looks rediculous) and got to work. I got to the brink, stopped, turned on my camera, and continued. Five minutes later, after learning to ignore the fact that someone was later going to be watching this, I was throwing myself forward with the spasms of a pretty damn good orgasm.

I got up, composed myself, and clipped the beginning and the end (me scrambling to turn the camera on/off is not hot). In all my lack of experience, I know one thing: NEVER watch it yourself. I had to watch myself make that oh-so-attractive O-face a good number of times in editing the end, and that was bad enough.

So I gave it to him when he came back, after a few runarounds with my video editing program. Some minutes passed, and I got his response:  “Well now I’m going to go to bed with a hardon.” YES. That’s the best reaction I could have hoped for. Mission accomplished.

I had the place to myself last night, so I thought I’d try out my newest vibrator and my much-neglected dildo, both at once. They’re locked away in my large trunk, and further hidden in a plastic box, and even more out of sight stuffed inside a pillowcase. Basically, it’s a pain to get out and prepare, so my sex toys don’t get much use. They never have; hands are so much easier. Using a vibrator takes technique and patience and more concentration, and, actually willpower. I’ll break it down:

Technique: The two I’ve got have adjustable speeds. I have to start off slow, and build it up. I have to press down really hard on my clit and get the right spot until the potency is lost, and either jack up the speed or find another pleasure place. Either route means different work on my part. If I don’t do it right, I just don’t cum.

Patience: I need to adjust and build up my tolerance in order to get to the right speed for climax. If I go on high too early on, I get desensitized and end up at that dreadful plateau where my vibrator is as high as it can get, and I just can’t push over. With my two hands, somehow I can, if I really want to, get an orgasm in under a minute.

Concentration: Beyond visualizing and finding good spots to work on, I have to pay attention to the position of the tip. My new one has nubblies on it, and the other size has ridges. I need to pay attention to what’s where. And pressing down so hard, being in la-la-land causes me to slowly move the tip out of place, so I have to move it back up to get the best sensations. And, of course, I need to be intuitive to myself as to when I should up the speed, or move, or do both. and breaking out of fantasizing to change the speed, well, that means an extra few seconds where I have to get back into the swing of things in my head.

Willpower: Yeah. Sometimes, it’s sort of like I’m afraid to get to that point of climax. Because with a vibe, it’s like an avalanche. Building up to it is somewhat uneventful, and when I get to that moment just before the orgasm, it is SO intense that sometimes I shy away from it. Or, more infuriatingly, I accidentally move, and lose it. Pain in the ass, or what?!

I worked up the energy to get out the supplies, give good ol’ Stanley (uh, my dildo, haha) a washing (it had dust on it, inevitably; it’s silicone) and get down to business. I’m pretty tight as it’s been a while, and not all that lubed up (fuck foreplay, I will prevail) but I get it in easily enough, work my muscles to keep him secure, turn on that ugly pink thing that is my new nubbly vibrator, and touch it to my skin. I move around, more aroused, and enjoying the sensation of letting the vibrations go through the silicone. Nice, I can take this. ‘Cause, this dildo has been a waste of money. I get nothing from it. It gave me low expectations for actual PIV sex, because I never felt anything remotely exciting. But, anyway, I’m getting at least a minimal amount of enjoyment from this.

I hear people running down the hallway. Come on, it’s midnight. Quiet hours! Makes me paranoid. But I continue. Up the speed, take in a big sigh, spread my legs more, get comfortable.

I hear the click-woosh of the door opening, and I shoot up, shut my legs, fumble with my vibrator to turn it off, and wait. Rummaging around is heard. Must be Nice Roommate, back from New Hampshire already? Damn it. My vibrator is way too loud for me to use when anyone is present. Damn it.

So I angrily shove my vibrator in my pillowcase. I decide to revert to manual mode, and leave in Stanley. But by that time, I’m just tired, and annoyed. Whatever mood I was starting to give myself has disappated. So I free myself, and just go to sleep.

This morning, I wake up to an empty apartment. Ugh! So some bastard came into my apartment at will, and then they left. Someone came in here uninvited, AND they interrupted an experimental masturbation session.

Thanks a lot.

Nice Roommate has had her Prince Charming over quite often, and she’s gone over to stay with him as well. It’s all very cute, and I enjoy hearing her talk and blush about him. Those butterflies, let me tell you. There’s nothing quite like the feeling of a melting heart. It’s a priviledge, and I’m happy for her! I don’t mind his presence one bit. One can only wonder why they stay behind closed doors…

Brat Roommate has had her ex over quite often, too. They’ve got an unhealthy relationship, but she’s, well, a bitch, and is using him for booze and ass. By contrast, indeed, it pisses me off that he is around. They lay in bed all day, and she makes him do things for him. He’s head over heels for her, despite their bickering, and I feel sorry for the guy.

I’m jealous. Well, jealous of Nice Roommate. She’s got good things going for her. A healthy relationship, probably some nice loving. Brat Roommate has… a more dismal outlook. I’d rather sew myself shut than bend over for a guy when you’re in that sort of non-relationship. Isn’t there usually a reason why people break up? Why do they continue to have sex?

I guess I’m not that sex-crazed that I need/want to resort to such measures. No offense to people who’ve done that, I guess. ‘Tis just not for me. I’ve been put on reserve, thanks.

I’ve only been a non-virgin since late February. Yeah, I can’t hold a candlestick to most of you sex-driven folk who have probably been enjoying the dirty for most of their lives. What the hell am I doing here? Sometimes I wonder.

The point is, experiencing the connectivity and [slew of other fantastic things] of sexual intimacy with a [flawless] person of the opposite sex has, of course, changed me. Yes, losing your virginity is certainly a life-altering experience for most likely anyone–but I am the one writing about it. I mean, I stumbled upon masturbation more than a decade ago. I’ve gone through periods of masturbating multiple times per day just as much as I’ve thought nothing of it (nevermind that one month I decided to stop, because I wondered if that would provoke menarche–yes, I was once an ignorant little girl). But ever since I let Ninja gently have his way with me, and I got through those first few times of omg, something popped and not only did sex feel GREAT, but my sex drive has gone up the wall.

Much to my embarassment, really. I’m a pretty modest, reserved girl. But I can’t help it; I love sex. I think about it daily, hourly… I daresay all the time, but I’m sure I can’t be that obsessed…

And now I’ve got nothing but my own two hands and a few cheap vibrators to keep up with me. My vibrators are basically gathering dust; sharing close quarters with two roommates leaves little time completely alone, and I dare not risk them hearing the buzz buzz buzz of the damned things. I can get away with my tools of choice most of the time, but lately Brat Roommate has gotten the habit of coming into the room when I’ve been in the middle of my business and cutting me short. I, of course, am a pro at the discreetness, so she doesn’t know the sin. Man, do I miss my privacy.

I miss Ninja more. Damn him for awakening this bloodthirsty beast, and damn him for being so fucking good. I could masturbate all day and not get a fraction of the enjoyment I get out of him.

And, see, it can only get better. I haven’t had an orgasm with him, yet. But it is so good that I don’t even think about that. There’s so much to enjoy outside of “finishing.” I could go on for hours and hours and it’s basically like riding on the edge of a tsunami. And a cool thing is that I swear, I swear that I’ve gotten close to that fabled climax on at least one occasion. It was so intense that I stopped myself. I have that nasty habit of stopping good things and getting freaked out. But.

Whoa, fuck. If I can enjoy sex this much, imagine what an orgasm might feel like. And naturally, the contractions and lubrication and other typical reactions of the female body during and after orgasm couldn’t hurt Ninja’s experience, either. I’ve been workin’ on my Kegels.

Not that I have insanely high expectations, however. I’m way too content with what I’ve got to demand more.

It’s just a pain in the ass that I can’t have that right now. I really almost hate masturbating nowadays, although I’ve been so horny that I do it quite often. It’s just not good enough. I’m bored with pleasing myself, I want to please him.

Notice how I keep jumping back and forth? I’m masturbating to keep myself sane.

I do get pleasure out of reliving past events… my memory has some pretty vivid snapshots and clips of some hot stuff I’ve had the pleasure of experiencing. It’s basically as close as I can get to what I really want, which is some of that.. oh man.. sexy cock. And, you know, preparing myself for the night when he comes to my bedside, climbs on top of me, spreads my legs, holds my head in one of his hands and kisses me to heaven… that’s pretty fun, too.

Oh, man. Just four more weeks. I’m tired of masturbating, I really want some real satisfaction. I need him on so many levels.