Posts Tagged sex blog
Almost exactly two months to the day since the day we first kissed, TGIKOS and I said an indefinite goodbye yesterday, as tomorrow he’s moving as was planned and, having been rejected last week from the job in the same city for which I’d applied, I’m not (or rather, I am but 650km in the other direction back in with my parents, depressingly, for the foreseeable).
So we spent the night together on Wednesday and on Thursday we had a conversation about how this unlabelled de facto relationship was and how we’ll continue to interact in the future (there’s no question that we will). It’s been a lot of fun, we’ve spent a lot of time together and gotten to know each other really well very quickly (and the sex has been great – my housemate who lives in the room above me always maintained she never heard any noise coming from my room at all, but the when he was here she could hear everything), and though I’m not thrilled for things to have to come to an end due to factors already in place and outwith our control when we met, as far as endings go it’s been a good one.
The plan, for as much of a plan as there can be in a situation like this, is that we’re still friends and we’ll continue to talk a lot, though probably not as much as we do now because 1) new job and social life for him means less time and 2) that’s not healthy anyway; making the effort to visit each other and we’ll almost certainly have sex when we do. I’m really looking forward to seeing him again, though I’ll miss him a lot as well which is unpleasant, but far preferable to an animus ending full of bitterness and resentment. It’s been a great summer with him.
In the “city” I’m living in at the moment, there is one (1) gay bar. Just the one, and to be blunt it’s kinda shite. The drinks are expensive, the floor is sticky, it tends to have more than its fair share of creepy people; but the LGBT society go there, I go there sometimes, just because I feel more comfortable in LGBT*-friendly environments. I’m happy to sacrifice the atmosphere the swish fancy bar round the corner offers in favour of feeling safe somewhere.
In this bar there works a twink whose name is the same as mine. It’s not a very common name (I’ve only met three other people with it) and to make matters weirder, he uses the same nickname I do. I’ve spoken to him maybe once, other than to order drinks, months ago when I was blind drunk. Yesterday he popped up on Grindr to say “nice name,” and we got talking a little bit; today he asked what I was doing tonight and I didn’t have any plans at the time, so he invited me over to his for some fun. It turns out he lives in the house above the bar (handy that, very central too) which is closed today, so I went over before I met some friends for dinner in the centre.
He was a few centimetres shorter than me and slim but toned, brown hair and, the cherry on top, big brown eyes. I started out going down on him but after a few minutes he pulled me up and took me in his mouth from below, and quite well too; we rolled rolled to the other side of the bed so I was on my back and he kept going, and it was at that point I noticed the rather large mirror leaning on the wardrobe giving me an excellent view of what was going on. I’ve only seen myself having sex in the mirror once before but I do quite like it because, narcissist that I am, I like the look of my naked body.
After a bit more rolling and sucking I asked him if he had a condom; he did, he put it on and straddled him as he fucked me (the boyfriend and I have been experimenting with various positions to see which one is easiest for me to bottom from and that seems to be the one). Once he got going he came fairly quickly, and stayed inside me and kissed me as I finished myself off on his chest.
As far as sex with a random stranger goes, it was really quite good, easily 8 out of ten. I’ve sent him a follow-up message on Grindr to let him know I’d be up for doing it again or making it regular; he seemed quite reluctant about seeing me again as I was leaving though so I don’t have too high hopes, but we’ll see.
When I was in my last year of high school, I got quite involved with an LGBT youth group in the capital city, largely thanks to my then (and now) best friend who had been going for longer than I ever did and who eventually ended up working for that organisation for a while. Every Wednesday we’d get one of the school buses we weren’t technically allowed on, to go to one of the two towns in our school district at the time that had a train station (it’s quite rural) and get changed from our uniforms on the train and go to the youth groups and, occasionally, they’d take us away for a weekend for various projects (I’ve written about one encounter that I had in those days here). During one long conversation that had went beyond all reasonable time of night, one of the older people there said to those of us that were still up that “there’s a big difference between having sex and making love, and when you’ve done both you’ll know the difference.” At the time it sort of awed me, but I didn’t really believe it and, as years passed and my sexual experiences increased in number, began to believe it even less.
Now, though, that cynical part of me has been quashed. (There are plenty more of them, but that one is gone at least). On Friday the Boyfriend came around to spend the night before I went to the coast to visit a friend and he went to a different part of the coast to visit his family, and pretty much as soon as he came through the door we were all over each other. I initially had him tied up with his arms and legs to the bedstead while I had a little play around with him. And then, suddenly, as I was straddling him and looked down at his face and into his eyes, there was this really perceptible shift in energy or emotion (I’m aware I sound like a hippy, hear me out) and I suddenly felt this really massive wave of connection and I really felt then how he felt about me, and so without even thinking about it I untied him and we started making love.
I can’t really describe the way it was other than just amazing and intense at the same time – arms wrapped around his shoulders, chest to chest, about as much skin touching as possible, kissing and whispering and just being really close. It was intimacy the likes of which I’ve never experienced before and it was really mind blowing.
It wasn’t mind blowing in the same way that mind blowing intense sex is, in the that was a really good fuck way – because that can, and does, come from a random person you have little to no emotional connection with. It was just a really fantastic, close experience and I feel far closer to the Boyfriend for it than I did before. I know I’ve had my doubts about him and us and I’m not saying that they’ve all dissipated, far from it; and there will continue to be problems and strife in the future, I’m certain. But I’m also certain that I am incredibly lucky to have met this wonderful person (through some very odd circumstances), to be in a place emotionally where I can feel accepting and deserving of the love and happiness we bring each other (because there are times when I really don’t), and to be physically in a place that’s relatively accepting and tolerant of same-sex couples (depressingly few places in the world); and that I am very in love.
I’m posting this because this blog is supposed to be a fairly full and accurate account of my sex and love life and while there are some things that I omit, largely unpleasant stuff, by desire or necessity, without this type of thing I’d be leaving out a large chunk of the first substantial relationship since I started writing in December 2011 and a break-up post would look a little out of the blue.
Like any couple, the Boyfriend and I have our share of ups and downs. The ups are wonderful, but the downs are never very pleasant. We seem to have been at each others throats a lot recently – not in the “hand around the throat during intercourse” sense – and, yes, the possibility of a break-up has been mooted more than once. Topics of conflicts range from the quotidian (“What do you mean you forgot the bread?!”) to miscommunication to open relationship related problems (him not wanting me hooking up with someone I had a romantic interest in when I first moved here or me being upset when he turns up with love bites from someone else when we don’t give them to one another, by agreement).
The good times are great though; and he is incredibly caring and affectionate; this weekend when I was so hungover I couldn’t sit up he came from his city to look after me and even endured Eurovision with me) and even stayed an extra two days to talk me down from the metaphorical ledge when I was going insane stressing out about my interpreting exams.
My main concern, which I’ve raised with him, is this.
- I’m not sure I’m convinced that the good times are worth the confusion, upset, and sleeplessness of the bad times. Furthermore the fact that it’s only been not quite four months and already we argue like this, doesn’t really fill me with confidence.
- I’m not sure where I’m going to be – physically – in three or four months’ time. I could be literally anywhere on the continent (today I’ve already been contacted about job openings in the Czech Republic and Éire) and long distance is just icky.
Because of that, a break-up seems inevitable, and I wonder whether it’s better to jump before we’re pushed? At the same time, I don’t want to stop seeing him, being with him, cuddling him, having him in my life, because I’m in love with him. It’s all very complicated. On the whole, I think we make each other happy, and throwing in the towel this early due to vague uncertainties seems a bit defeatist.
In other news I’m also conflicted because I’ve been offered to participate in an MTV documentary featuring young people talking about sex, their sex lives and thoughts and attitudes towards sex. I’d love to be part of it because I think it could be a really good way to get a fairly sex-positive message out to more people than this blog will ever realistically reach (daily page hits have been in decline since the start of this year, probably because I’m not posting as often as I once was) but that assumes they’ll portray me in a positive light rather than editing what I say to make me look like a sex-crazed nymphomaniacal lunatic, which is possible. There’s also a very loud part of my brain – let’s call that bit Rational Dex – who tells me that having that kind of thing out there, viewed by potentially millions and easy to find on-line, would not do my career the world of good. I know that the same could be said of this blog but a casual reader here wouldn’t be able to recognise me in the street or office precisely because there are no photos of me here, and to the best of my knowledge you can’t find this by googling the name that’s on my CV. Decisions decisions.
Two days ago I got a message on one of my hook-up sites from a guy who lives a couple of hours away, coming down here to visit family. My profile on that site says something along the lines that speaking more than one language is an asset as far as I’m concerned, and in his message he asked which languages I spoke; his profile said he was interested in languages too, so I asked him the same question an it turns out he has a degree in Russian (and that he did his year abroad in the same place as my friend Hitraya, but they weren’t there at the same time).
From the way his messages sounded (“Well if I’m free I’ll let you know…” “Sorry I can’t be more specific…”) I assumed that he was just interested in chatting and that we wouldn’t actually meet, but today I was in town and he text me; it turns out I was in a shop he works for in a branch in his own city, and he offered me his staff discount (40%! Hello!) so of course I said sure and along he came and, true to his word, the discount happened. He looked as good as he did in his photos; 26, around my height (185cm, if you’re wondering), maybe two or three kilos heavier if that; dark hair, cut fairly short, with designer stubble, and of course, Big Brown Eyes. Yum.
We went for a coffee, and had a chat about our times abroad – always interesting to hear about other peoples’ experiences like that, and it turned out he’s actually been on holiday to the city I lived in in Italy, which not many people have (I usually have to explain to people where it is!). When we left the café, I invited him back to mine, and we jumped on a bus.
Unlike my bad experience with That Wanker from last week, this was really quite good! First of all, he was a good kisser; everything was reciprocal; he’s versatile too but bottomed for me. I think some of my experiences with the Boyfriend might have ruined me a little, because I now seem to have trouble staying aroused if I don’t have a hand around my neck, but this guy was very obliging about that. We switched between a few different positions before I finished myself off over his chest as he fingered me a little, kissing the whole time, and then he came in my mouth, before we got cleaned up and headed back into town. He was really easy to get on with, easy to talk to, and he’s said that if I’m ever in his city I should let him know because he’d like to fuck me; likewise, if he’s back down here any time before I leave (only 4 months to go!!) then fingers crossed for a repeat performance.
Spring has well and truly sprung here now, and it’s glorious. While the temperatures we’re currently having would be cause for mass exodus to the park, topless, with litres of fortified wine at the ready, being much further south now means that people here are still inclined to wear jackets in this weather. Odd. Anyway, yesterday I was having a really brilliant day – it was really beautiful and I spent the morning at a conference and then the afternoon with course mates, initially down by the lake on campus but after a while we migrated to a colleague’s house for a barbecue and some drinks. Earlier on in the day I’d arranged with a guy from grindr to go for drinks and probable fun times with him that evening so I left the barbecue early and went home before meeting said man in town, taking my toothbrush with me because he’d said I could stay the night and I live miles away
He took me to a very fancy bar in town that I’d never heard of before but which was insanely expensive (I told KittyMama the price of one of the drinks on the phone last night and she nearly dropped her handset) where we had a couple, then went back to his for the whole “watch a movie” charade people still feel the need to do. On went The Devil Wears Prada, a short while later off came the clothes, and I found myself between his legs licking away. I really like giving head, possibly more so than receiving actually, so I was quite happily working away down there when suddenly (and very soon after I started) and with no warning, he came. I don’t mind having cum in my mouth, actually, so that’s not really the issue.
But as soon as he came, he put his glasses back on, sat up and began watching the film again. No eye contact, absolutely no attept to get me off. I stood up and looked at the time on my phone.
“I can still catch the last bus home if you’d rather.”
“Actually yeah,” came his reply.”It’s just that I’m not really used to sleeping with other people in the bed”. FUCK OFF liar. So I got dressed and left – and blocked him on grindr on the way home, just in case he hasn’t realised he was being a prick (the number of people that can do something like that and then ask you for another bite at the cherry is astounding, people are so blind to their own faults. I include myself in that, of course.)
So yeah, a bad end to an otherwise great day, it these things happen. It’s sunny again today so fingers crossed it’ll be just as good!
I have some very talented, inspiring sex-positive friends out there. This poem was written by someone who I used to be on a committee with but never actually started speaking much to until I’d moved away from where we studied together, unfortunately, but we’re making up for lost time now. I asked her to write a bit of a commentary to the poem which is below it. Enjoy!
i never thought i’d hit double numbers by twenty,
was always taught the higher your number
the lower your value.
felt safe when my body count fit on one hand
remembered those people who told me
everyone you fuck takes a little bit away from you,
wondered how long til i was left empty.
but those nights i spent with girls
against bathroom doors, in their brothers beds,
didn’t feel draining
walks of shame didn’t feel so shameful
as my number grew so did i
left behind hair grips, underwear, but not any parts of myself
took books and photographs instead,
reminders of girls i loved or liked or wanted
for a night, for a moment
reminders that i am not who i fuck,
but if i was
i’d still be incredible.
“Before I lost my virginity, I was terrified of what having sex would mean. I grew up in a Catholic family and went to a Catholic school, so a lot of emphasis was put on how important sex was and how important it was that it only happened between a married man and woman. When I was much, much younger I genuinely did think that I wouldn’t have sex before marriage, and me and my friends would sit and imagine what losing our virginities would be like- these discussions usually involved lots of declarations of love and candlelight. When I realised I was gay though, I realised that I probably wouldn’t be losing my virginity to my future husband, while I was okay with that, I was still scared that after I did have sex, I’d feel different or regret it.
“When I finally did lose my virginity, it was not at all like the fantasy scenarios me and my childhood friends had imagined. I was drunk, and she was a complete stranger. It was the opposite of how I had imagined it to be- but somehow it was a ridiculously nice experience. The next day I didn’t feel any different, I didn’t feel ashamed or embarrassed like I’d been told I would, and all the fears I’d had surrounding sex pretty much disappeared. Over time I grew much more comfortable with my sexuality, and realised that every person I slept with was a new experience that added something to my life, rather than taking something away. So that was what I was thinking of when I wrote the poem- that having lots of sex isn’t a bad thing if you don’t want it to be, and it doesn’t change anything about who you are. “