Archive for the ‘Sex’ Category
Fireworks
I did. I lost it. I wish I’d had time to write about it earlier than 10 days after it happened, but that night was my second to last in Berkeley and Leone and I were spending every last second we could together before I left, and then after I got home I had a day before I had to leave for San Diego, so I never got the chance to sit down and write. The unfortunate part is that because of the delay, some things are bound to get lost in memory, which is really a shame, because I want to be able to look back one day and remember every little detail.
Hormones—And Complications
Note: I originally wrote this as part of a massive bulk post about All-Things-Leone, which I started last weekend and have been adding to all week. That post isn’t done yet, but this part of it is, and then I decided—it’s so different from everything else in there: a longer topic, for one thing, and it has less of an off-handed character, for another—that I decided to separate it out and give it its own post.
Let us now talk about sex. Leone and his of-age friends went to a local pub for a weekly special last week, and I knew that when he came over that night (he’s been spending most of them here) that if he was drunk, he would bring up sex. He was only buzzed, and not even noticeably; still, I was right.
It’s been on both of our minds recently, and I know he’s been wondering (but not wanting to ask) when we’re going to go all the way. We’ve done just about everything but the act, and not that that’s not enjoyable (because it very much is), but the hormonal adolescents that we are, we’re going to think about doing more. At 21-in-a-month I’m still a virgin, but not because I’m saving myself for marriage. I understand why people would, and sometimes I wish I had the resolve and self-discipline to, but when I think about potentially losing all those years of sex I could be having because I’m patiently waiting for that one day, I just don’t think I can do it. I’m not waiting for marriage, and I’m not even waiting for the Right Guy. I’m just still a virgin because I’m waiting for someone who isn’t a random guy I brought home from a party, a one night stand. A fling might do, depending on the guy. A boyfriend, so long as it’s one I genuinely like and respect, would do very well.
The Right Side
Even though Spring Break didn’t start for me until noon on Friday, I had already checked out by Wednesday, and even as far back as last week the thought of break was enough to banish most thoughts of work from my head. On Wednesday night Leone said, “Can’t we do this one more time before break?” and “Why do you have to go back Friday?” Well, I didn’t. I’d just always headed back to SJ on the Fridays before breaks because there was no real reason to stay. But I thought about it, and on Thursday night I texted Leone asking him if he still wanted me to find out about staying one more day, and he replied, “you know I would like you to stay.” And so I called my dad.
Write Well of Me
I’m slowly coming to realise that…that I’m not the only one telling stories. Maybe they dont have blogs like I do, but someday maybe Cap’n Crunch, The Chemist, Romeo, and Amaretto* are going to tell a story about “That girl that blew me” over dinner (except I guess it’s safer to assume not everyone has the same taste in dinner conversation as my friends and I). I dont know why I didn’t realise it before, that these guys weren’t just pieces of meat or disembodied penises. They’re people too, and I’m on their (metaphorical) College Memories wall just as they’re on mine.
Which, obviously, leads me to wonder how they’re writing me in. Am I the bitch girl who they didn’t really like but was kind of hot and they were drunk so they said “Fuck it” and let her take off their pants? Am I the kind of crazy chick who gave a killer BJ but who they’d never want to bring home to their parents? Am I the girl they maybe could’ve wanted something more with, but who didn’t seem interested in any part of their body that wasn’t six inches long and rock hard? (give or take an inch depending on the guy).
Of course, I know that for some of these guys, I wont even be a footnote in their adolescent life. An elipses lost in the long stream of drunken hookups and one-night-stands. And the funny thing is, I dont know if I’m rooting to be lost or not. Do I want to be remembered? Or do I want to fade into posterity? I want to have made enough of a splash to be a part of someone’s life, but is this really the impression I want to leave? Yes and no. Like so many other things in life.
Either way, I sure as hell will remember them. Whatever I may say, bitch, rant, or complain about, for the most part I will remember them fondly.
* Too lazy to link to them. It’s not like I haven’t done it enough on this blog. Also, there are huge glaring tags on the side, so anyone who’s properly motivated, unleash your inner Sherlock Holmes.
Almond Amore
Friday: Class, home, gym, sweat like a pig, shower, pack, run run run to Buttercup’s apartment.
We made a quick dash to Safeway with Buttercup’s 21 year old roommate in tow and returned to the car 80 dollars poorer but 3 bottles of alcohol richer, which is a fair trade in my book. Dinner at Jack In The Box (“Why does it sound sexual every time you say ‘Jack In The Box’, [truste]?”), then back to Buttercup’s to get sexy.
Manhunt
I have serious rugburn on my knees, and this is how I went about getting it:
It’s Not a V-Card, it’s a V-Freaking Chastity Belt
In case you haven’t figured it out yet (why?), I still have my V-Card. It’s not that I’m waiting until marriage, it’s not that I’m waiting for a moonlit dinner and rosepetals on the bed, it’s not that I’m waiting for months of courting. It’s just that I haven’t found the right guy to lose it to.
If I hadn’t been standing in the middle of an aisle at Lucky’s when Buttercup called me (to tell me she went through with cheating on her bf by sleeping with a friend (who has a gf)), I would have told her, “Yes, a FWB. That’s exactly what I have, except that I dont have sex. And I know that if I wanted to I could easily throw sex into our relationship, but I’m in a different situation as you, because you’re not a virgin, so it’s not as big of a deal.”
I dont mean that she’s a slut. I just mean that if I wasn’t a virgin, I wouldn’t have second thoughts about sleeping with The Chemist. In other words, the only thing between us is my virginity. And I’m not completely adamant about not letting him take my V-Card, because he can be sweet, and I know that he’s good in bed, and I know that he’ll be gentle. It’s just that I dont feel emotionally or sexually connected with him enough to let him do it, and when it’s something this big, I feel like I shouldn’t do it if I’m not all in. And I’m far from all in.
But sometimes being a horny adolescent in a virgin’s skin is a huge burden. I walk down the street and my mind goes “I want to sleep with him, and him, and him”, but I know that even if the chance arises, I wont. Because call me naive but I want my first time to be, if not “special”, at least with someone I like and respect and want to lose it to. Still, it’s hard to talk about sex with Buttercup and Jasmine and not be able to chime in, not because no boy wants to have sex with me, but because of my own naive stubbornness.
Easier, Harder
We were having a post-blowjob chat of the “so as to not make this a wham-bam-thank-you-slam, we’re engaging in small talk but let’s face it, this is awkward” variety (or at least, that’s how I saw it. He’s the one that wanted to catch up, so maybe it felt more natural for him).
He said, “I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but I hooked up with another girl last Friday.”
Simplification
Oh, I totally forgot that I meant to write about “hanging out” with The Chemist. Let’s see how concise I can be:
Got a text this morning but had class until 5:30 (told him 6). Came home and ate dinner, intending to text him later. Got text at 6:30: “come over”. Got back dressed and headed out disgruntled. Forgot cell; came back into get it. Ran into 2 hot guys on the way, exchanged banter, noted that they lived upstairs. Resisted urge to stalk. Wrote on my ipod:
“On my way to see the chemist. all the way across campus. & not happy bout it. why do I keep doing this?”
Fully expecting to come home feeling used. Was pushed up against the wall in a dark hallway. “Want to hook up?” “No.” Sat on the couch and talked. Boobs and tummy getting stroked, jaw and neck getting kissed. Kept getting begged for “hook up”, but said no because to me “hook up”=sex. Not adverse to bj though; was fully aware going in where this would lead. 20 minutes of pleading, then bj in bedroom. Locked door & flip-flop in front of it. Roommates came home: “Moooooo!” Swallowed two loads of cum. Didn’t take very long: suprising. Love cock, if not guy cock is attatched to. The Chemist: “I think it was the idea that we could get caught.” Laid on a blanket on the floor of the darkening room with male arms around me. Surprisingly, wasn’t in bad mood. Turned down offer of oral. Avoided 50 billion “why wont you have sex with me?” questions. Tried to think of nice way to say “Looking for the right guy, & it’s not you.”
Told The Chemist I’d walk self home; big girl now, can take care of self. On a whim, stopped by Peets for an iced au Lait. Unexplicably, really needed to see one of the baristas I talk to there a lot. (Dont have crush on him, but easily could) Think I needed reassurance that guys could be witty and fun. Didn’t think he was there at first, then heard clatter near the bathrooms. Gave him a smile. Sloshed coffee on floor & did my best cleaning it up quickly. Didn’t want to look like i was making excuse to talk to him, even though I totally wanted to.
Came home.
4 AM Nonsense.
Oh yeah (I think at 3:56 AM).
There was something else I wanted to share (with my non-existent readers) today. Don’t worry, I’ll be fast.
Sitting in the dentist’s chair this afternoon, feeling my jaw permanently locking into the “wide open” position, feeling my lips go dry and chapped, feeling the drilly cleany thing whir against my teeth, I realised that the last time I’d had my mouth open for such a long time I’d had a penis in it. One can guess which I enjoyed more. And don’t tell me fifty gallons of your own saliva and fancy dentists’ toothpaste is tastier than cum, because I wont believe you.
Also, happy birthday to the USA. I hate to lump that sentiment together with the above one, but just in case I dont get around to Yay-4th-of-July-ing tomorrow. I love America; I really do.
