I Did It!!!!

So Ladies & Gentlemen, you would have been very proud of me.

  • Firstly – I am in a (kind of) relationship
  • Thirdly – He said he felt the same!!!!!

Let me just take another moment, (there have been many) to jump up and down on the spot, screaming to myself like some un-educated, over-excited school girl.

 

Moment, taken. Much appreciated.

So, it went a little something like this:

Me: “I miss you more this time. Does that make sense?”

My Mr. Grey: “I feel the same, proper lost without you XXX”

Then I sent him an email. It started as a text, but then I realized it was too long to send in this manner. It was after a phone call to my Mama, where she told me that she always thought me and My Mr. Grey would get together at some point, and we had grown up now so why not now? I emailed him and basically said that I wanted more out of the relationship between us and I was hoping he felt the same.

It was a long day – I sent the email in the morning and then he didn’t text me or email me back until about 11pm that night. It was the longest day EVER. I reported back to my Mama with hourly updates that he STILL hadn’t gotten back to me, and then at 11pm that night, he sent this:

“Hey gorgeous! I’m smiling, and you know what? I’ll tell you why, you! I just got your email and I feel the same! I’m just sitting eating beans on toast with grilled cheese on top. Oh and thinking of you!”

OH MY GOD! OH MY FUCKING GOD! He feels the same. HE FEELS THE SAME!!! I told him I had been nervous waiting for him to respond, he told me that I didn’t need to worry because I am amazing. He needs someone in his life, and I’m the one! He’s crazy about me, he respects my wisdom and he knows I would look after him.

So, I got what I wanted. BUT what does this mean? Are we together? I think we are together, but does he? 11pm that night, when he messaged me, I was at the house of Number 34the one I couldn’t get rid of. That night, once My Mr. Grey had sent me that message saying he felt the same, I couldn’t even begin to think about sleeping with Number 34, even though technically, he was my booty call for the night. I made up a headache, told him I was tired, and basically begged him for snuggles the entire night, even though all I wanted was for him to basically leave his own house as I couldn’t stand to be anywhere near him.

That’s the thing – Now I consider myself to be in a relationship, I wouldn’t cheat. Especially not on My Mr. Grey. The thing is I don’t know if he thinks we are exclusively each other’s. I don’t know if he thinks we are in a relationship. We are texting each other more, and there are a lot of sweet nothing’s going on in there, but what do they really mean?

It would seem that my MASSIVE STATEMENT of LOVE; the big statement that was meant to simplify things, namingly my feelings, had actually gone and fucked it all up. Now, not only did I have to bite the bullet and bravely tell him how I was feeling about him, despite my reservations and nerves, but now I have to bite that godamn bullet again and ask the next huge bloody important question – What’s the deal here? What are we doing?

He lives at the top of the country; I love right down at the bottom. I have asked him what airport/train station that I would need to get to, and he told me. So surely that shows him that I’m serious and in a relationship. Or do I need to spell it right out for him? This has just made things all the more complicated for me, and now I’m wishing I had never said anything to him at all. Crap and buggery!

At the end of the day, even if I have got it all wrong, and we are not in the right position that I thought we were, I will have given My Mr. Grey everything; my all. I guess it’s the same with every relationship, regardless of how long you have known and been sleeping with the other person – there are things you cannot say, things you cannot ask, and confusions just with any other first date/first relationship chat scenario. I just hope I’m not barking up the wrong tree and we are doing the “Us” thing that I have always dreamed of. After all, if it worked for Mr. Grey and Anastasia….. 😉

When Was Your First Time…? (Part Two)

Carrying on with my lists of firsts (When Was Your First Time…? Part One), in which we have covered some ground already, I’m on to the next big event in a girl’s life; her first heartbreak.

  • My first heartbreak

I will never forget the first time I got my heart proper broken by a boy. It was nothing big, and it was nothing spectacular, but to me, at the time, it meant everything. He was Number 4 and we dated for 2 years. I shall explain a wee bit of the story: I was16, he was obsessed with me, we started dating. We were inseparable. There was talk of him cheating but it was never confirmed. I cheated. I cheated on my Number 4 with my Number 20 – the guy I was dating before. Number 4 was new, and I was still sad from breaking up with Number 20, and when he offered me the chance to spend the night with him, I saw this as a “we can get back together” fuck, (because I was young and didn’t know any better) and we fucked. We fucked in his car, and then ended up sleeping in the car that night because he had been drinking and therefore couldn’t drive. Was it worth it, I hear you ask? No, it wasn’t.

I have kept a journal throughout my life, on and off. Number 4 found the journal and read it, only a couple of weeks from my stupid infidelity and found out that I had cheated on him with my ex. He went ballistic, quite rightly. I think it was his first heartbreak, and I definitely know I was his First Love. He threw me out of his house in quite the dramatic fashion, and threw my belongings out after me, in true Hollywood style. The hurt in his eyes was heartbreaking enough for me, and from that point onwards, I knew I had broken a barrier in myself, as well as him.

Stupidly enough, I have cheated since this occasion. I have either not been found out, or the situation wasn’t quite as traumatic, but when this heartbreak happened, I knew that I was never going to feel that low again for the rest of my life. I had really hurt this guy; I was really horrible. He cried, he shouted, he got drunk, and he hated me. But at the same time, he loved me. This lead to a couple of odd nights – him turning up at mine, (I was living with my Nan) and sneaking in. Spooning me in my single bed, I ended up having my first encounter with angry, hurtful sex. It was vicious, it hurt, we cried, and it was passionate. This was my first time I had ever had sex like that, and although it wasn’t my last, it was still a pungent moment in my life that I will never forget.

  • My first fuck

My first fuck wasn’t what I told everyone. To the girls and boys at school, I had already had sex with a guy that was 3 years older than me at the age of 13. You know how it is – peer pressure and all that. My first fuck was actually with Number 1 at age 14, and it was dramatic! We had fooled around, lying on the floor of his bedroom, doing some serious heavy petting and some hardcore making out. We were going to get dressed and I realized that I was down to my underwear, and we may as well just get on and do it. I believe we had been dating for around 2 months. Off came his underwear, down went mine, and then it happened. His “Banjo String” snapped and pissed out blood everywhere. We didn’t realize – we had never had sex before; how were we to know how “wet” it was supposed to be? We finished and he said he was sore. That’s when we looked down and saw blood everywhere. It was dark and the lights were off, but the red staining on his sheets most definitely gave it away. At first we thought it was me – we both knew I would bleed a little. After closer inspection however, we noticed that there was blood quite literally pissing out of his cock. We had to throw away his clothes that night.

It wasn’t the ground-breaking experience that I thought it was going to be, to be honest. There were no fireworks, there was no real spark, and although we were definitely at it like rabbits throughout our entire 10 month relationship, it wasn’t that good. Funnily enough, he was also my first blow job. I didn’t realize it was coming and he blurted his load right down the back of my throat. I swallowed my first time. What a whore in the making! It made me gag but I didn’t hate it… I am now a great lover of blowjobs.

  • My first anal

I will never forget my first anal. I am still a very angry wee girl about my first anal. I had heard about it, of course, and I was already under the impression that I would probably end up doing it at some point in my life, but at the age of 16, I didn’t realize it was going to be the painful, horrible experience it truly was.

He was a year older than me, Number 20. You’ll recognize this guy if you have read the beginning of this post, and also if you have read “What’s Your Number?” We were drunk at a house party and left the party to find an empty bedroom. We found one. Sex commenced and before long, I was on my hands and knees pushed right into the corner of the bed, which was pushed against two walls. All of a sudden, he pulled out of my pussy and stuck in full-on into my ass. I screamed! There was no warning, no lubricant, and no preparation for this at all! He made my ass bleed; he actually tore me. It hurt more than I can ever remember anything hurting. The inconsiderate bastard had stuck his cock in my ass dry! DRY!!! Do you people have any idea how much that shit just hurts? I still hate him for that. I have done anal since, of course. You’ll definitely know about this (ha-ha!) if you have already read “Anal – What’s the Deal?”

  • My first sexual awakening

You know what a sexual awakening is – that point where you realize you are not an entirely “Vanilla” person. You like things that are out of the ordinary – pain, restraint, stretching, tugging, biting, scratching…. Etc.

I have had many moments of sexual clarity of the years, but I think my first was, again, Number 20. The first time we slept together, I was so nervous. It was in the early evening and it was still daylight outside. I was nervous about taking my underwear off, (Number 1 never took my underwear off when we were sleeping together) so he decided that me not seeing would put me more at ease. Out came the blindfold. This was frightening; I had never had this kind of sex before. He was trying to go down on me, and it was making me nervous because he could see EVERYTHING. I kept pushing his head away, so out came the restraints. He had two ties to hand, and he used these to tie my hands together and keep them out of the way so that he could continue. This was the exact moment I realize that I quite liked bondage. He also gave me my first love of being scratched, especially my back.

To Be Continued…

When Was Your First Time…? (Part One)

There is nothing like a good bit of reminiscing when you are experiencing a dry spell with men, and this got me to thinking about firsts, (and talking, after a rather in-depth conversation at work) I have decided to compile a list of firsts…. Those moments in your life that change things forever. You know the ones – your first fuck, your first kiss, and your first sexually awakening moment. I decided to start this blog, not only because I have had sexual experiences that most women, (and men) would only ever dream of therefore I should shout about them, but also because I want to be brutally honest about everything that I have been through. And let’s face it; in the past, I have been through an awful lot. More than most others at my young age, I would imagine. I apologize if this gets a little boring, but it was in my head so I wanted to talk about it.

  • My first crush

My first crush, unless you are counting Tom Cruise, who I had a major crush on in high school, was a guy I later fucked once school was over and out. This guy was Number 6. He was hot, tanned, ripped, a little bit of a nut job, and while we were at school, completely out of my league. At school, he was a bit of a jerk, especially to me. It turned out that he wasn’t that great in bed, and the night was soon forgotten about. Still, I liked him, I wanted him and I got him. I really am a spoiled princess.

  • My first kiss

Ah yes, the awkward first kiss. Mine was with a guy I couldn’t stand. He bullied me at school, and I think back then, we had this weird flirtation that now would probably be known as the whole 50 Shades of Grey scenario – submissive and dominant; him being the latter. It was all tongue and saliva and neither of us were very good. It was in the center of the locker room outside the technology block at high school. We were in the middle; everyone else was around us in a circle, “egging” us on. It was awful.

  • My first love

1)      I have problems when it comes to choosing my first love. I thought I was in love with those guys in my younger years, but when you compare it to the way that you feel when you love later on in life, it is virtually nothing. I like to think it was Number 1 – the guy whose “banjo string” I broke. We dated for 10 months – this is a long time when you are just 13/14. It started off rather bizarrely – I was bullied very badly at school, and he was one of the popular kids. He tried to keep it a secret when we first started dating at the beginning of the 6 weeks school Summer holidays, and when we returned back to school, I told him we either went official or we went to nothing. To my shock and surprise, he decided to go official. He was popular and I was dating him, which in turn made me rather popular. It was weird to be on this side of the fence for once – I was beaten rather badly by both boys and girls at school, and then all of a sudden, I wasn’t. 

He was a bit of a dick to be honest – he once hit me in the form room at school, resulting in all the other boys pouncing on him. He cried a lot. He was also very controlling. He hated me smoking, hated me going to the cafeteria without him, and hated me hanging out with my friends when he thought I should have been hanging around with him… It was a little crazy to be fair. Every spare moment away from school was spent together, and although I know a lot of first relationships are like this, it was all a little intense. We broke up heading into exams – I did better than expected and he did worse. I guess that says a lot really. We copied a line from the hit film “Ghost” – “Ditto” was our secret way of saying “I Love You”

2)      I can’t work out if he was my first REAL love, or if this next guy was. He was Number 20. It was passionate, (for a 16 year old girl anyway) and it was awesome. Thinking back to him still makes me smile. At the time, he was amazing in the sack, but in all fairness, I didn’t know any better yet. I went back there a few years ago, and it wasn’t all that. There were rumors that he cheated so I slept with his best friend. I then cheated on Number 4 with this guy, and almost messed it all up. It wasn’t worth it.

I remember being very sad about this guy when we broke up – I was living with my Nan, and when he TEXT me, (oh yes, I got the text breakup) I cried into her lap for an hour or so, until I picked myself up, dusted myself down, and went out for a good old alcoholic bender with his best friend, (yet again) to get over it.

I don’t know which of these were my first loves. They certainly weren’t my GREAT loves. Almost like mini-loves; the ones you have when you are younger that sets the scene for how you are going to love others after them. They impacted me, of course – the first never took my underwear off when we slept together, and even now I have this weird thing about getting stark-bollock naked. I don’t like men seeing my frou-frou. If I get head, it has to be with the lights off. The second set the path for my crazy love of mental sex – he tied me, blindfolded me and teased me, and all of this was just our first time in bed together.

  • My first GREAT love

There is most definitely a difference between your FIRST love and your first GREAT love. My first GREAT love was my husband – a man that I would have done anything for, and put up with a lot from. He cheated on me repeatedly, he physically and mentally abused me, he left me with no money AT ALL for weeks at a time, and in short, he completely destroyed me. It took every ounce of my strength to walk away from him, and even then I couldn’t have done it without a little help from Number 29.

I loved my hubby with everything I had. He cheated at the beginning of our relationship and I forgave him. He cheated not long after we got married and we moved to a different country, and I forgave him. He repeatedly cheated – it was as if he had a problem. In reality, the problem was mine – I let him get away with it, therefore he was bound to do it again and again. We got married too young; it was the whirlwind romance. This was in 2006, and I still haven’t managed to divorce him.

Do I still love him? Yes, of course I do. I stayed with him through the worst things that you could ever have imagined. He split my face open with one punch that was so forceful, he left half of his knuckle in my lip and I had to have it removed, and then have stitches. This was the worst of it all, I think. That was the first time he had actually HIT me. He had dragged me around a parking lot by my hair before, cutting open the front of my feet where I was dragged. He spat on me, he used to put his hands around my throat to shut me up, to the point where I had great big welts across my neck. I have photos of this still, and every time I come across them by accident, it shocks me. Was I really willing to let a man make that much of a mark on me? Apparently yes. What else did he do? He used to hold my wrists to the point where they were bruised. Again, I still have these photos. He once locked me in a cupboard in my house. My upstairs and downstairs neighbors knew all about this, but of course I denied it. It was the hole in the face/hospital night that got things out in the open, and this is where my downstairs neighbor started phoning my Mama. This is when shit got real.

Things were bad between us – he trashed my flat before we got married. He left me without any money once we had moved, snapping the bank cards so I couldn’t get access to anything, and then left the country for 4 months with his work. During this 4 month period, I heard from him 3 times and he slept with 5 other women. This was while I was practically starving; having to borrow money from my family so I could afford “luxuries” like food, tampons and toilet roll. I resorted to borrowing money from my family and friends in order to survive, and also, for the short duration that my Internet bill WAS paid, I tried my hand at online freelance writing; something that has stuck with me and that I still do today. Was this enough to make me leave? No, of course it wasn’t. I was an abused woman; something I couldn’t say back then, but now I say with the strength of a woman that was lucky enough to get out and overcome it. Even now when men make fast movements around me, I flinch. If a man shouts at me, I have a panic attack. He destroyed me, or at least a little part of me. I would never let him destroy me completely. I would never let any man. 

Towards the end of our relationship, the only time we ever really got along was when we were both high on cocaine, something that repeated itself with Number 29. It was a disaster that I am glad I managed to escape from. He is in a long term relationship now with a girl that looks exactly like me. I wonder sometimes if he does to her what he did to me. We no longer talk, for obvious reasons, and even when we try to discuss the divorce, it ends up in a big fight. Ignorance is bliss for now. Until I can afford to get solicitors to get rid of him for me.

The thing about us was that when we were happy, we were deliriously happy and we had it all. He made me the happiest person ever. The problem was it was only ever good for a few months at a time, if even that long, and it soon went back to shit again, with some other woman happening, or another trip to the hospital for me. We lost a baby together. It wasn’t planned and I didn’t even realize I was pregnant. He was distraught about the situation. Me, on the other hand, well I just thought throughout it all that I had a lucky escape.

He was my first GREAT love.

I Said No to Sex?

OK, so I still have it bad. The My Mr. Grey thing I mean; it’s still bad. I still can’t get him out of my head. The guy I couldn’t rid of, Number 34; he asked me to go to his tonight and watch the meteor showers. We would sit in his yard, get high and watch the beautiful star display… That was the plan anyway. The truth is I couldn’t face going over there. I knew what it meant – we were going to get high, watch the stars, head to his bed and fuck like bunnies.

I don’t want to. I’m hoping this is a temporary glitch following the epic kinky fuckery from My Mr. Grey. I just knew it would be downright disappointing in comparison, and my vagina is still sore. I think I just turned down a booty call. My bad.

I spent the night getting high on my own, talking to My Mr. Grey. He misses me and he thinks about me a lot. What does this mean? As in, he thinks about me sexually all the time, or in a more “real” sense? I’m doing that thing that girls do, aren’t I? I am over-analyzing every word passed between us. Every bold moment I have where I make some kind of impression my feelings are more than we thought; I bottle it and make a wee joke at the end of it all. I simply do not have the balls to tell this guy how I really feel! Why? How does it make any sense that I trust this guy to be fist deep in my vagina, but not enough that I would tell him those three little words? Clearly the vagina is much stronger than the heart, or so it would seem!

So how long am I going to turn down other perfectly fine booty calls for the man I cannot have? Christ, up until three or four days ago, I didn’t even realize I felt like this! How long is he going to be everything that is going on inside my head? And how long before I stop reading far too much into every word that he sends across the internet? Fuck, this is pissing me off.

For those that care, the non-smoking is going well. I haven’t smoked yet, and I haven’t wanted to kill anyone. I did find out this morning that my estranged hubby has had my name tattoo covered over. Not that even set my crazy alarms jingling in frustration and hatred. I’m really pining. He doesn’t smoke – maybe that’s why I’m doing it right now? Maybe that’s why I’m doing so well and so determined this time around. Christ, everything revolves around him right now. Someone offer me a slap?

I’m going to go and wallow in a sea of self-pity for this evening. I’m also going to hang my head out of the window every now and again, hoping to see a flash of a shooting star so I can make my wish. Bet you know what it is………

Dear My Mr. Grey,

So following my two days of complete kinky fuckery, I have come to the conclusion that I am a little bit in love with my Number23 AKA My Mr. Grey from 50 shades. By a little bit, I mean a lot. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m always like this after our rendezvous’, around every two years or so, but this time I think I’m actually pining….. And it sucks.

Today is my first full day of being completely smoke free. I am quitting smoking. I wasn’t sad, angry, and stroppy or pissed off though; I was talking to Number 23 all day. To be honest, I think I’m still on a MAJOR high since our two days of full on kinky fuckery. Tonight however, as we are texting, I have realized that we have diverted away from the usual sexy stuff, and we are actually talking. He said that he felt good around me; being around me was good. Better than he ever remembered. Does this mean that he is thinking more like I am? Or am I just reading too much into this? Does good sex play havoc with the brain and make you think that there is more to the situation than there really is? Maybe the sex hormones are covering my eyes in rose tinted spectacles and I don’t even like the guy at all?! Well, probably not, but you can probably see where I am going with this.

I feel like screaming right now, metaphorically of course. On one hand, I have this amazing fuck buddy that I see every now and again, which is probably why the sex is so great. He gets me, he pushes my boundaries, and he drives me fucking mental. On the other hand, there is this guy that actually is the sweetest guy I’ve ever met with just the right hint of badass about him, that would probably rock my world if I ever dared to speak the truth. The thing is I don’t know whether this is a chance that I am willing to take. Is it really wise of me to sacrifice the best sex EVER for a relationship that may or may not work? We have been doing our thing for what, like 9/10 years now, and it works just fine. It would be stupid of me to make a mess of it all by saying something stupid like “I love you!

So, I have decided to say everything I want to say to him right here:

 

Dear. Number 23/My Mr. Grey,

You are the most amazing man that I have ever met in my life. Not only are you so respectful towards women, it makes my heart melt, but at the same time, you pull my hair and slap my ass like no one ever before. You are also the right combination of awkward and hot, with a dress sense that on someone else would look ridiculous, but on you just works, and I LOVE YOU. I love you like a girl would love a pair of shoes that she found in the attic that she used to love years ago, and wants to love again. Bad metaphor, but only you really know how much I love shoes.

I have always known that you are the perfect guy for me. Really, everyone else has always known this too, which is why every guy I have ever dated has hated you with a complete passion. You are perfect in every way – you challenge me, you fuck me like a total pro, you spoil me, you make me work for your attention, and you have this amazing way of putting your hand on the back of my neck while we are walking along, which not only turns me on immensely, but also makes me feel massively protected at the same time. It’s like a small gesture that only we get.

I know you are never going to come across this, but in the small chance that you do, or by some miracle you decide you feel the same, please tell me so that we can stop scooting around each other like two sex obsessed teenagers with a serious kink fetish, and live the happy ever after we should have lived all those years ago when I married the wrong guy.

So for now, My Mr. Grey, I adore you. In every sense of the word. And not your graying hair, your funny dress sense, or the funny way you giggle when you fart is going to put me off. Now if only you would buck up your ideas and feel the same, we may both stop being so godamn unlucky in love.

 

All my love forever,

 

Me xoxoxox

Warning! Explicit Content!

I have had two days off work. Do you know what I have done for those two days? Let me let you in on my dirty little secret – I have fucked, drank wine, ate dinner, laughed, walked, talked, fucked, fucked some more, and fucked a little bit more again! In short, the last two days of my life have been spent between the sheets, or rather, on top of them, and although right now I am more than a little sore, I have this kind of after-sex glow, and a twinkling in my eyes that, let’s face it; just comes from a good old fucking!

I will try and refrain from going into too many details – this isn’t meant to be a porno-blog after all. However, I do have to tell you! I have to tell someone!

Let me set the scene for you – Number 23 on my list, “What’s Your Number?” came to see me.

He had a couple of days off and yesterday was his birthday, so rather than going all the way back to the top of the country; a whole 12 or so hours away, he decided to travel the hour and a half to come and see me instead. He booked a hotel, he surprised me at work, and although I have always remembered how hot this guy was, I hadn’t seen him for two years, and my god, was he fucking hot!

He’s a little older now – 32 I think. He has this sprinkling of grey hairs, and this cute little bald patch that usually I would find disgusting, but on him just added to the appeal. He got hotter too – his muscles were more defined, he seemed taller than I remember, and when he came into my place of work and gave me a hug, I swear to God, my knees trembled.

After work, we went for coffees. Then we parted ways – he went to check in to the hotel, and I went to shave my legs! I wore my prettiest, flirtiest dress and we went for dinner. It was during dinner that he surprised me. He had bought me a bottle of expensive lubricant, and a set of Chinese love balls that I, of course, had to run to the bathroom and pop in straight away.

That’s the thing with us – we have this unspoken agreement. We have been doing “our thing” for almost ten years now. Whenever we are single, (or not) and we have time, he comes down to see me and we spend however long he is down here for indulging in naughty foreplay, mind-boggling sex, and a great deal of laughter.

The dinner soon lead to drinks in the hotel bar, and this soon lead to him leading me up to this hotel room. He kissed my neck and I fell apart right in his hands. I had forgotten how good he kissed me. His lips were so soft, his muscles were so hard, and then he got undressed! He has piercings in his cock. He has stretched these piercing holes until I could quite literally, fit my pinkie finger though the hole. I’m not entirely sure how to explain this – the piercing goes from under the head of his cock, right out through his “Jap’s eye”. At first, this freaked me out, but after a little while, I realized how hot it was. I had all this power with my finger through his cock, and with him I never have power. I had a couple of glasses of wine beforehand so my inhibitions were at an all time low. Honestly, I cannot find the words to explain the sex that I have had over the last two days.

It was sweaty, messy, empowering, disgusting, hot, passionate, sensual, teasing, hardcore fucking. He tied me up with the waist scarf from my own dress. He flipped me over so that the entire front half of my body was pinned to the bed and preceded to fit as many fingers as he could inside me from behind. My “Stop!” was when he knew it was too far – he’s a professional in this kinky fuckery; I am just an innocent bystander when it comes to him. I felt pain – I knew he had many fingers inside of me. I am a huge fan of being stretched, but funnily enough, no man is ever brave enough to do such a thing. Nor am I brave enough to tell a man that this is what I like. Not every day, of course, but from time to time, it suits me just fine.

I said “Stop!, he pulled back his hand, and I had this feeling within me that was ready to explode so I pushed back. Searing pain drove through my body, and all I heard from him was “WOW!” It turned out; my stop had lead me to back right up on his hand. His entire fist was inside me. I came HARD. He wasn’t expecting me to take it – I am fairly tight. He has some serious girth on his cock and there are times when I can barely take this, so the fact that I had taken his entire fist in my pussy blew his mind. And mine.

The rest of the two days is just a blur to be honest. There was walking and talking during the day, wine and dinner at night. Then back to his for some hardcore kinky fuckery. He is My Mr. Grey and I told him this. He does things to my body that I never knew a man could do. He does this thing where he puts a couple of fingers inside me and massages my G-Spot, while at the same time pushing down on my groin with his other hand, which leads to the most mind-blowing orgasms I’ve ever had. His tongue works magic. His cock leaves me feeling unbelievably full. His kisses make me tingle all over.

He rarely cums inside a woman. I know this because we have always had this bizarre relationship where I know everything about him, and he knows pretty much everything about me. He told me that it has been a year since he last came inside a girl, and I believe this wholeheartedly. Last night, I was on my front, body pushed down into the bed, pillow-biting, my ass up in the air, when I reached my hands behind me and spread my ass for him to enjoy everything. Turns out he quite likes this, and he exploded into me with such force, I could feel everything. EVERYTHING!

I can’t even remember exactly what we did in bed. I was in a daze for most of it. Imagine the best sex that you have ever had in your life, combined with scary sex; sex that you like but have never had the balls to try. It was scary but so much fun at the same time. There were points where I thought I couldn’t take it anymore, but he has this amazing way of knowing how far to go, and when.

I can’t count the amount of orgasms I have had over the last two days, but I know I must have had many. My pussy is so sore; it hurts to go to the bathroom. My stomach muscles feel like I have done a thousand crunches. Even my ass muscles are sore from all the tensing and clenching. It feels like I have run a marathon. My face, however, has this shiny, pink glow to it. I looked at myself in the mirror this morning and all I could think was – Wow! This guy makes me look good! Oh, and just before I forget to mention – I managed to take his entire cock in my mouth, deep-throating as far as I could go, and apparently, I am the first girl that has ever managed to do that to him. This is not a lie – he is a pretty big guy. This is what my day has been like so far – I am doing something completely mundane or having a conversation with someone, and out of nowhere, I get a flashback that makes me blush. It feels like I have been drugged by sex – good drugged though, not bad drugged. He is addictive.

He has now gone back to work and all I feel is a bit… empty. I don’t even remember being THIS attracted to him. While we were talking, he was telling me about other girls that he’s seeing, and I talked about the various rendezvous’ I have had over the past couple of months. One thing stood out to me – I was jealous about this guy talking about these girls for the first time ever. I always used to find his stories a kind of morbid foreplay, but now it made me angry. I think I have developed feelings for this guy – feelings I have never had before.

I am not going to do anything about it, of course. It would destroy the way we are, and with sex like that, I wouldn’t change us for the world. One thing is for sure – if he came to me and swept my off my feet with a promise of a happy ever after, I would totally jump into it wholeheartedly, knowing that this guy would never hurt me. It got me thinking – why have we never tried the REAL relationship thing, rather than just naughty hook-ups every couple of years?

For now, I will be more than happy to put the past two days in my sexual wank bank. I miss him already. My pussy sure doesn’t – I don’t think I could even touch it just now. But my body and my heart now crave him. Waking up the past two mornings; naked and intertwined in his arms was heavenly. The way he lightly stroked his fingers down my spine to wake me up, combined with the gentle kisses he was placing on my neck. It really was like something out of a movie and I wish I could have it all the time.

I guess for me it is now back to reality. Back to work and back to being single. Back to lusting after men that I cannot have, and storing treasured moments like these in the back of my mind to use when I’m sleeping with another guy that just doesn’t do it for me. I think everyone should have a Number 23 in their life – that one guy (or girl) that drives you bonkers and knows your body better than you know it yourself. I hope that you all find that person. It’s almost worth the heartache of knowing you can never have them all the time….