Bunny bouncing

When I started this period of reflection all I could see in the Bunny section was a big ol’ mess of emotions. It all seems a lot clearer now which is the point of reflection and gratifying. Bunny is exploring his toppy/dommy side at the moment and I am more than happy to help him with this, though I wasn’t cautious enough about the effect that would have on me and quickly slipped into an infatuation based on the intensity of kink.

I spent some time discussing this with a good friend to try and get my head around developing feelings for someone that I knew with fair confidence does not reciprocate them. It would not be the first time I’d been in that situation, and a long relationship with Noise had been on a very similar basis. The difficulty one faces in that situation is

  1. boys can be so thick (wilfully?) and not notice these things, and
  2. it’s hard to choose not having the thing you want over having it under false pretences.

Having been there before though, I was determined to do the grown up thing and tell Bunny how I felt, aware that it would end our fun, and that I’d probably have to take a break from our friendship too. Better that than sour the relationship forever. Having made a decision it was just a matter of timing. He and I are going to a friend’s wedding in a field very soon and it seemed churlish to mention anything before then and potentially put a downer on what is otherwise planned to be an awesome weekend. I’ll also admit that the promise of some outdoor nookie might have had something to do with delaying the inevitable…

This path of reflection was accelerated dramatically by the revelation from Bunny that he was falling for someone. At first that stung and that needed dealing with. Cue: yet more pondering. The more I thought about it, the more I realised that what I was feeling was not because of a irrevocable attachment to Bunny, but yet again distress at being rejected. To be picked up and then put down is a natural part of casual sex as everyone’s priorities and dynamics evolve. I’m just not hardened up to it yet after a good couple of years out of the game.

I feel so much better after reaching this conclusion – refreshed!

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Of all the guys in all the world…

…I had to pick Iain. As has already been addressed in an earlier post there is a very good reason not to schtup this guy. (My ex with whom I have worked so hard on maintaining a friendship with after I broke his heart is a very close friend of Iain’s.) Yet we just keep ending up in bed. I tell you what though: it’s fantastic. I have of course wondered if this is down to the forbidden nature of the affair, but it’s so much more than that. This guy ticks a lot of boxes

  • readily available – he lives just around the corner and has so far never not been up for a visit.
  • easy to hang out – we’re friends, and we can act like such with no awkwardness.
  • he has his own place – he’s not been here and I like that, that would somehow make the betrayal of my ex much worse.
  • enjoys kissing – remarkably rare recently, and he will always shave when I come around to save my poor delicate skin! What a gent.
  • fun in bed – sex with laughter can be so wonderful. There’s no kink there but that doesn’t bother me given the context of our interactions.
  • high sex drive  – I’m very much enjoying a reawakening of libido as is he.
  • holds me happily – this man will wrap me in his arms and squeeze me tight as we fall asleep and when he wakes up will pull me towards him to do it again. The warm glow of security that comes from being held like that is just about as pleasant as mornings can get!

But I feel so incredibly selfish for risking my friendship with my ex for these warm fuzzies. That said, I know that while Iain continues to make me feel so damn wonderful I won’t stop and neither will he most likely. He’s mentioned before that he thinks my ex would never speak to him again if he found out. Probably neither of us.

Knowing myself the way I do, I know the one way to get off this hamster wheel of toe-curling orgasms is to find someone to take his place. Easier said than done! As we’ve seen, that’s a lot of boxes to tick. When I’m astride that man I feel like a vixen, bringing him to orgasms that render him briefly blind is a fair ego boost and I can almost see myself undulating  over his cock, teasing, cumming, cumming again, body firm and proud as if I’m in some French arthouse film. Wandering naked around his exposed-brickwork, bare floor-boards, spot-lit batchelour pad the sense of liberation is intoxicating.

There’s no potential relationship with this man despite all the plus points, as a boyfriend we just wouldn’t get on – probably too similar to my ex in fairness, which makes sense. Therefore this needs knocking on the head sharpish, and so I find myself browsing yet more online dating profiles. It’s so time-consuming trying to find the perfect lay!

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Never the same message twice.

So lets start with Dateboy. After the washout that was our evening in I have been very careful to stay on the right side of ‘friends’. He’s pretty darn text-happy which I can cope with, and mostly we will exchange several texts a day at various levels of entertaining. One evening however, his messages take on a distinctly flirty tone leaving me a little confused and I let him know as such. After a huge pause I get one of the longest text messages I’ve ever received telling me how he’s not ready for a girlfriend, and doesn’t want to choose between friendship and sex, but the idea of ‘friends who occasionally have sex’ is something that he could work with. This was all followed with the fear that on the back of this message I would never speak to him again! Ha! He obviously still doesn’t know me very well.

I responded to let him know that the last option was the most agreeable to me, and that it would be nice to be able to explore each others pants again, and that I had no desire for a boyfriend either just yet thankyouverymuch.

That settled, I started to look forward to having an enjoyable fuckbuddy relationship with this charming gent who apparently considered me really rather sexy, smart and funny. *blush*

I invited him to join my friends and I for a local pub quiz which was all good fun and he got on well with the group which was gratifying. Unfortunately, some new friends that I had not met before brought up the kink scene – not quite a conversation that I’d gotten round to with Dateboy yet – and I was quite effectively outed which was both hilarious and cringeworthy at the same time. At the end of the evening I invited him back and was pretty saddened when he changed his mind at the last minute, pecked me on the cheek and left homewards. Thinking it was the kink talk that had frightened him off I sent a message to apologise only to discover that he’d stayed away because he’d been paranoid about not having showered since 5am! Another evening of frustration for me!

He came to visit a week later after spending the day sending me really rather steamy texts but was so exhausted from his crazy shift patterns that the goods were all a little disappointing. Slot A goes into slot B etc. That’s forgivable, however his choice of pillow talk is not. Post-coitus and with his cum still in my hair, I am treated to a blow-by-blow account of the various women that are throwing themselves at him currently, and how he’s struggling to co-ordinate the goodies.

There are a few possible reasons for this development: he could be trying to make me jealous, though I’m not sure for what purpose; he could be trying to establish distance, especially if he’s paranoid that I don’t mean it when I say I don’t want a boyfriend; or he could just be incredibly insensitive. Sadly the latter seems the most likely which is a shame, as if he becomes a repeat offender on that front I’mgoing to find it hard to enjoy his company.

He came to the quiz again this week and again I went home alone. Well, I would have, but I got sidetracked and didn’t actually make it home. More on that later, my point still stands, Dateboy was not interested in the contents of my rather splendid outfit and actually spent quite a bit of time admiring my friend’s cleavage. Classy. To be frank, I’m getting a little tired of the mixed messages this boy sends out. The constant text messages are actually absorbing a fair bit of energy and there’s very little return on this investment, sex-wise, which is pretty much what I’m in it for. Perhaps he enjoys being chased more than he does actually cashing in the spoils?

Whatever it is, I’m definatley starting to withdraw my level of effort. He obviously has enough tail chasing him and I certainly don’t want to be just another stroke to his ego – I have my own to think about!

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Omphaloskepsis

Also known as navel-gazing.

It looks like I need to do some. Things are all in a jumble. I seem to be fucking the wrong men, in the wrong order, for the wrong reasons.

Right now I am too tired for the above reasons, but I will return to expand upon these issues:

  • Date Boy – just after having his ego stroked, enjoying being chased more than the spoils?
  • Iain – a kiss, a cuddle and a great fuck. Just what my own flailing ego needs.
  • Bunny – the kinky fuckbuddy, a rehash of emotions old and older.
  • My last love – am I not as over him as I thought?

for now though, I’m going to numb my brain a little on the sofa.

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It’s like living in a soap opera sometimes… with more sex.

Oooh I can get so angry sometimes. This can be really frustrating on the occasions when I know I shouldn’t be angry, yet still am. I experienced this recently, after a second meeting with the aforementioned Date Boy.

There has been a reasonable amount of contact since our indiscretion a week earlier and recently he invited himself round for stand-up comedy and takeaway pizza. I was a bit concerned that we’d gone into quite a cosy zone awfully quick but I guess some people are just like that and as I enjoy both stand-up and pizza it seemed like a perfectly pleasant prelude to round 2 of our bedroom gymnastics.

Turns out I was wrong. We watched the DVD, ate some pizza, and when the credits rolled… he asked me to call him a cab home. I was a little perplexed, I’ll tell you that for nothing and had to really struggle to make it clear that he was welcome to stay the night without sounding too  much like a slut!

His response: “I don’t want you to think that I’m only interested in you for sex.”

Me: “But what if that’s all I want?” (Don’t think he heard me say that properly through his bluster)

Him: “I think we’d make better friends than a potential bootie call.”

Me: “Oh. Your cab’s here.”

Well what could I say?! That I thought he was wrong, that I thought we were incredibly well suited in the bedroom and I would regret not being able to ride his cock blisswards again? Somehow, it didn’t seem appropriate. And then the anger. A lot of it. The next morning I awoke so consumed by it that I had to contact a close friend to help me rationalise. After all, if the shoe had been on the other foot and I’d not wanted to get jiggy with him I’d have wanted that to be accepted with no ill feeling wouldn’t I? So what was my problem?

We went through a few possibilities. Was I actually just very angry with myself as I’d failed to live up to my nosexonafirstdate challenge with this man who was subsequently giving me the brush off? Had he changed his mind about my attractiveness since that night? Being found unattractive by someone who’s already tasted the goods made me angry… It boiled down to rejection, my frend pointed out, and that’s what was fuelling my rage. I had to calm down, chalk it up as another bad ‘un (my chalk is wearing down) and get past it. She was right.

After calming my anger with some handicrafts and general chilling out with some lovely people I went to meet a friend I hadn’t seen in a while for pre-arranged drinks. I was a lot calmer by this point so I think only a little of the bile spilled out and most of the afternoon was spent drinking and chatting and generally having a good time. Having drunk beer with this friend for about 5 hours solid we said our goodbye and I hopped on the bus home. Wasted but very happy.

The bus dropped me off a good 5-10 min walk from home and beer being beer I realised this journey would have to have a comfort break built in, so logically, I stopped at the pub. When I came back down the stairs I bumped into a couple of friends including my ex-from-a-while-back’s close mate, Iain. He and I have known each other aslong as I’ve known my ex, whom I met about 4 years ago and lived with for nearly 2. The break up was hard on him and I’ve only recently really started to build the friendship back up. Which is why the next bit of the story is so fucking stupid!

Iain is also very drunk and immediately buys me a drink. Then another. Then we’re in another bar and he’s buying more drinks. At this point we’re both incredibly drunk and flirting. That’s not too crazy though, we’re both chronic flirts and certainly good enough friends to be drinking buddies. A girl has been flitting around him all evening though it’s a little sad as he’s very clearly not interested. As she leans in to his ear before sauntering off to powder her nose he watches her go. As soon as the door closes behind her he says “Grab you coat, leave your drink we’re going.”

“Whu, what?” says I, “Why?” I’m all drunk and confused.

“Come on,” he says standing up “quickly!”.

So we make an incredibly sharp exit from the bar and we seem to be walking towards his place at speed. (Just goes to prove that a commanding tone of voice can make me do anythinig at a certain level of inebriation!) When I asked him why we were leaving in such a hurry, what had the girl said, the answer was that she had asked him to ditch me so she and he could get it on. Evidently this wasn’t a solution he favoured ha!

I don’t exactly recall how the kissing started, but I remember how it progressed. Energetically! We tore his flat apart, knocked over the enormous flatscreen TV, smashed an ashtray, scattered clothes and soft furnishings everywhere! It was all so much fun! He is obviously one of those men that enjoys giving head and I wouldn’t have been surprised if his tongue was nearly as sore as his head the next day. I enjoyed it a lot, but felt very guilty afterwards (through the haze of a death-like hangover) about my ex. We had split up because I din’t find him sexually exciting and sleeping with one of his closest friends seemed like quite the insult.

I left sheepishly the next morning, knowing full well that I didn’t have Iain’s number, nor did I want it. We saw each other again at a mutual friend’s funeral about a week later (one of those good ones where everyone’s celebrating a life well lived) and he cornered me outside for a cig and some meaningful eye contact. We conpared injuries still visible from that night with schoolkid-like smirks. Later on when a bit more tipsy he took my number, only to text later that evening, asking to come over for fun times. I politley turned him down, but I know it was more because I was exhausted than anything else.

Now I know how much fun can be had, I can see my will power being stretched again in the future, and as we all know, it’s about as resistant as over-worn elastic.

I’ll tell you what happened with DateBoy another time…

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My, how the lay of the land has changed.

The sexually confident vixen within has been buried a little too well in the face of my last relationship. 7 weeks on from the end of a long-term relationship and she doesn’t exactly leap straight to the surface when beckoned…

I’m  working on it: after some strange little dance I no longer recognise a friend/on-off fuckbuddy has volunteered his services in overcoming my post-relationship sex-related nervousness. There’s a lot to be said for someone you know and implicitly trust bringing you to massive and messy repeated orgasms. He withheld sex interestingly enough, probably (I think) due to a combination of wanting to tease a little for next time and a desire to not give himself away too easily.

The latter is a feature I congratulate him on and desperately hope to emulate some day. My will power needs a lot more work on that front though, as my most recent date proves. Having been amused by someone’s OKCupid profile I instigated contact and flirty emails then texts were sent followed by a ‘date’. Well, a meeting in a pub which turned into a bit of a bar crawl. I had spoken to friends about my absolute desire not to sleep with this man on the first meeting as I so dearly wanted to be chased, persued and generally made to feel desirable without having given up the goodies in my pants.

I completely failed. We went back to my place and had fantastic sex. Plenty of energy, variety, hair pulling and biting (also the phrase “Good girls bend at the knees, bad girls bend at the waist” as he bent me over the table was quite delish) all finished with a face covered in cum. Nice.

Problem now is, I appear to give a toss if he replies to my texts or not. I don’t want this to be the case. I want to absolutely not care but somewhere a rebounding bunch of emotions have got in the way. I am assured this emo-state will pass, which I look forward to as it’s currently very annoying. For a while I was very upset with myself for not withholding but I have come to the conclusion that I do not need to leave any part of my body as a mystery, it is for enjoying. My mind’s unknown terrain is much more interesting to explore.

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It’s not three little words, it’s one huge one.

Love.

Such a wonderful feeling, so enjoyable to roll around in, to wrap around yourself, to wallow in. But often given and not returned, and whether you choose to ignore a lack of reciprocation or you stare it in the face, it will hurt like buggery eventually.

I am in love. Lovely isn’t it? But I will not pretend that I haven’t been in love before, that I haven’t fallen in love with many different people over the years with varying degrees of success. That’s not to say that this love is meaningless either, it means a great deal to me and I’m enjoying it immensely.

He said it first, in a casual throw-away comment, and interestingly enough later said that he didn’t want to say ‘a certain word for all the pain and complication it can often generate.’ Fair enough. Perhaps the earlier statement had been subconsciously thrown in, perhaps he regretted it and was covering himself, whatever the reason, I’m not a tit for tat girl so didn’t feel the need to hold back my declaration.

I’m fairly confident of his love in return, though I don’t take it for granted by any stretch. Yet. I do have a tendency to do that so eyes peeled for warning signs! He says it rarely, but when he does it makes me feel incredible, like when he wrapped my shivering body in a towel on a beach in Wales as the sun began to set and whispered “I love you” in my ear – how could a girl not melt on the spot?

There’s no escaping that the first flushes of love are warm and silky, and can easily cool with time, we’ll just have to see how that evolves and enjoy the feeling of right now like warm mud between your toes.

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