T-Minus 1 Sleep. Fuck. Meet Number 24.

So OB is here tomorrow. I now have to do a full day at work rather than the half day I had originally planned. And I haven’t done a single thing all week. What does this mean? The great big tidy up.

I don’t know if this is a girl thing or a “me” thing but before he gets here, I have to clean my room to within an inch of its life. I have to change the sheets. I have to put Shake N’ Vac down and then vacuum. I need to polish. I need to do my laundry. And then dry it. And then put it away. I have to make sure all the sexy stuff is out and all the embarrassing stuff is put away. I need to clear my internet history and make sure none of my personal stuff is on show on my computer. And my iPad. And both of my phones. I need to make sure that I get rid of the smell of cigarette smoke from my room. And weed too.

I need to do a whole bunch of personal stuff too. I only managed to fit painting the nails on one foot yesterday so today I need to do the other foot. I need to de-fuzz my top lip which is going to be a tough job as I have just had my Medusa piercing done just yesterday. Just in case you don’t know what the Medusa is, let me show you:

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I need to make sure I have no dark stray hairs floating from my chin. I need to make sure that I use the pedi-egg on my feet. I need to moisturize, exfoliate, de-hair, slightly fake tan and spritz with the right perfume. I need to choose the perfume. I need to find some lingerie that will be suitable enough to meet him in. I attempted to do a spot of kinky lingerie shopping today after work but once I had sorted out Number 9’s (The Prison Warden) stuff, and then met The Bestie I’ve Never Had a Dalliance With for a quick drink, I barely had time to fart, let alone shop for fucking lingerie. This week has been pretty hellish and it feels like I’ve had no real time to myself. Oh and we bumped into Number 4 (The Fireman) and Number 1 (The First Boyfriend) as we were out. What with My Mr. Grey and The Lapdog jumping at me out of the blue the other day, I’m starting to think something is seriously going on with my past love life and the fact that it keeps jumping out at me at every opportunity.

I have a thousand and one things that I really should be doing. As in really, really should be doing. What am I ACTUALLY doing? I’m smoking a joint and writing my blog. Because, you know, I got my priorities sorted. Speaking of my blog, I showed The Bestie the other day – just a couple of posts that I quite liked. He loved them. He actually laughed and he actually loved them. This made me a very happy bumblebee indeed.

On top of ALL of this shit, I decided this stressful, manic week is the one that I should make the transition from bubbly blonde to …. Well brunette. Humph. No offence to you guys, but I’m most definitely a blonde at heart. All of a sudden I’m a completely different person and everyone has mixed opinions on it. Whatever.

It’s just been one of those weeks I think, and I can’t wait to have OB here. Sometimes I wonder if I’m going off him but then I remember that I get to see him soon and I get over it. I think this is kind of a working compromise for me on the relationship front. He’s not here enough for me to find faults with him or to get bored of him so he keeps my attention. And he doesn’t fight with me either. For the most part it has been easy breezy. I’m still in discussion with My Mr. Grey of course. It’s just light conversation – we are both skirting around the big topic in hand I think. He has apologized a couple more times, but nothing substantial. I am, however, expecting a text from Number 4 (The Fireman) after our brief encounter this afternoon. It’s been a while since I last heard from him too. I think it’s on the cards.

I tell you what I did do recently, and I don’t think it was the best idea I’ve ever had. I was talking to OB about Number 24 (The Older Guy) and I decided to see if I could find him on Facebook. Oh dreaded Facebook! I DID find him and I sent him a light and breezy message:

“Hey! I was talking about you the other day and I thought I’d have a bit of a Facebook stalk and here you are! How are you? It’s been a long time! Hope you’re well! Not So Sex in the City!”

This was three nights ago and still no reply. He is fatter than he was when we dated. He is also losing some of his hair, which is a shame as he had lush hair. I remember running my hands through it a lot. He was a good lover. He was also very adorable. He’s not all that any more. He isn’t the same man.

I was 18 and he was 35. He was (surprise surprise) military. He ordered a pint of Fosters and said the line – “You have the softest stomach I have ever seen! Can I touch it?” I remember wearing a cute little cropped tee with some kind of flirtatious slogan emblazoned across my chest, which at the time with my smaller frame, looked fucking enormous.

It was the oddest chat up line I have ever heard. It worked though – I was totally unprepared for the confidence boost it gave me and I accepted his number on a beer mat. I was a little blonde thing and he was a hot older Soldier Boy with a beautiful motorbike and a fucking amazing smile.

We dated for about a year, all in all. On and off. Probably more off than on. It was naughty weekends here and there, perhaps the odd night out. It was fun though – we went on seaside dates on his bike and played afternoons away in the arcade, eating dinky donuts and walking around the tourist stores. He had the looks and benefits of being the older man, while having the mentality of someone my age. It seemed like the perfect combination. I was most definitely his bit of arm candy too; he used to show me off at every opportunity. He loved the looks that we got with our public displays of affection, and if the truth be told, so did I.

It was a very weird relationship and I’m not even sure we had a relationship. It was very complicated. He was divorced and had a daughter that was just 7 or so years younger than I was. That was the weirdest realization I had when we were together. I was stupid, thought I could actually have a future with this older man, but didn’t want to give up my 18-year old single gal ways. I definitely wasn’t faithful to him and I’m pretty sure that he wasn’t to me either – the baby he had after a year of us being together gave that game away….. That means he slept with her when we had been dating for three months. He changed as a person and we drifted apart, very fast and very sudden. There was no ending.

The sex used to be pretty good and I remember loving the way he kissed me. He had a beautiful set of pearly whites and he used to smile at me, mid-kiss, as though he couldn’t believe he had me. It made me feel very empowered, which at 18 is a good attribute to have, and he was stunningly beautiful. I remember that smile getting me into an awful lot of positions with him – the shower at his Mothers, the kitchen at his Army house… I did crazy things for him. One example – I used to strip in his car on the long journey up to his house and jerk off on the front seat. He encouraged me to be a lot more open about myself and how sexual I was. He was a good memory for me. As fucked up as our “thing” was, it was good for me and I’m pretty sure it was good for him too.

New Year, just after I got married, he emailed me and I called him from the other European country while The Hubby was in the shower. I’m pretty sure The Older Guy was drunk as he told me that letting me go had been the biggest mistake he had ever made…. Despite getting both of us married just a few months before. This sentence didn’t dwell in my head for very long – I don’t think I ever had genuine feelings for this guy. I think he was my older guy play thing and gave me some knowledge, a lot of confidence and one hell of a lot of sex.

I guess for now I should go back to cleaning my shit up and getting my act together. Thankfully I’ve had no more passionate dreams about The Big Love or complicated conversations with My Mr. Grey…. Let’s just write the past week off as a bad’un and start the new one tomorrow evening, when I get home from work and he is sitting on my bed waiting for me. Good times!

Fucking Fuckity Fuck!

I keep avoiding this post simply because I don’t even know what to say right now. As mentioned in my last frantic post, My Mr. Grey is back.

“You never said you were in a relationship. Miss hearing from you :(”

I guess he found my new relationship status then. I tried to skirt around the topic, as he had done so many times before, by saying that I thought I had mentioned OB, and let’s just say the conversation got heated.

He said that he knew I was too good to be true and he wished I had spoken to him about it. I told him how annoyed I was that I laid my heart and my feelings down on the line for him to basically ignore every question I ever asked about him making a commitment to me. Long story short, he didn’t want to tell me how he really felt over the phone. He didn’t want to “ask me out” in a text message. Remember the wedding that he invited me to last year? Well, according to him, he had avoided our commitment chat over the phone because he had a little something special planned. He had booked an expensive hotel, bought himself a new suit, prepared champagne and roses and was going to do the whole big romantic gesture thing. I didn’t go to the wedding….

Romance. How could I have not thought about this? I know what kind of guy My Mr. Grey is – he is a romantic guy. He treats me like a princess – there is nothing he wouldn’t do for me. How could I have ignored the big “R” word? Are we women treated so shoddily these days that the mere thought of romance doesn’t even bounce into our perfectly groomed heads?

I apologize in advance if this post seems to flump all over the place but I have no idea what to think or what to write. He told me that he was going to come down and see me in March and I told him that I didn’t think it was a good idea. I told him all about OB too. If he comes down to see me, he’s going to look at me once and I know I’m going to melt into a soft mess on the floor in front of him. I’ve always loved him, what the fuck am I doing?

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I told him that I didn’t want him to come down and see me, and he told me that for that weekend alone, he promised he wouldn’t lay a hand on me. We both know what will happen if he comes down – I’m going to cheat on OB; something I really don’t want to do. I love OB and he’s a good guy. He doesn’t deserve me leaving him for a guy that couldn’t make his mind up just a few months ago, and he certainly doesn’t deserve to be cheated on.

My Mr. Grey told me that he knows I’m “The One”. He said that he compares every girl to me, and that’s why no relationship works for him. He told me that he hadn’t slept with anyone since me, and you know what, I believe this. He told me that he wants to have a family with me and even if we didn’t work out, he would stand by me and our make-believe child until the end of the world. I know he means this too. He would make an absolutely fabulous Daddy. And to be honest, the whole kid thing has been playing on my mind for a while now. It’s something that I will talk about another time; I already have far too much going on in my head.

He wants me and he said he’s going to wait for me. He’s going to fight for me. And you know what makes all this worse, I know he’s going to grind me down. I’ve never been able to say no to him and I don’t think I ever have. What the hell am I going to do? I love OB but I’ve loved My Mr. Grey for a lot longer. 6 months hardly compares to 8 years, does it? On the other side of the coin, however, OB knew he wanted me and came and got me. My Mr. Grey didn’t do this – he planned the big romantic gesture that I never made it to. Surely he must have known that the big romantic gesture would be lost on me? I’m not an expensive hotel and red rose’s kinda gal. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m a MASSIVE fan of champagne, but I would have been just as happy, if not more so, by him telling me how he felt instead of trying to get me to travel to the other side of the country, to go to a wedding of someone I have never even met, just to tell me he loves me. I already knew that dumbass – What were you playing at?

What do I do? Potentially screw everything up with OB to run away and make a life with My Mr. Grey? He’s made it perfectly clear that he’ll always love me, he will fight for me and that’s where he wants us to end up. I made mistakes before – I chose The Hubby over My Gr. Grey, and The Big Love after that too. Would I be making the same mistake if I pick OB over him this time around? My Mr. Grey has such bad timing – when I got engaged to The Hubby, he turned up to confess his undying love for me. The same happened when I left The Hubby and got together with The Big Love. Here we are again – I finally find someone that I love and can have good times with and he decides to muscle his way back and demand what he thinks is rightfully his.

I sent him a link to my blog last night – I Asked the Questions and Got No Answers! He was coming across as though I didn’t give a shit about him and I wanted him to know how I REALLY felt. And still feel! It got my point across and he promised that he wouldn’t read anymore. I believe him – he’s not that kind of guy. He wouldn’t like some of the stuff I had written anyway. I haven’t been able to get him out of my head all day and I feel so bad for OB – he doesn’t deserve this bullshit. He’s a nice guy. So far……

So now I am at a dilemma. Do I let My Mr. Grey go once again and pursue my relationship with OB? Or do I let go of OB to run to the other side of the country for the guy that I have desired for 8 years? Help me guys – I’m lost.

Oh and before I go, just to add insult to injury, The Lapdog decided to text me in the early hours of this morning to tell me that he had heard the song Hot Right now – DJ Fresh & Rita Ora and it reminded him of me. His brother got married last year and we left the reception, along with his sister in her bridesmaid’s dress, to go to a nearby club. We were both on MDMA that we had taken on the way. We were mashed out of our minds and this song came on, so we danced, bounced and jumped our way through the entire song. We then went back to his that night and had the crazy, uninhibited sex that comes with that particular drug to that song. It soon became “our song!” I will talk about our MDMA nights another time.

In my crying, sleepy haze mid-conversation with My Mr. Grey I made the mistake of messaging him back. It was polite and courteous; nothing too dramatic. He proposed us catching up over beers soon, to which I replied “Maybe.” That’s all I need right now – My Mr. Grey muscling in and fucking everything up and now The Lapdog has decided to have a shot at it too.

Lots of love,

Very Confused & Torn 😦

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My Mr. Grey is Back.

He’s back. My Mr. Grey, he’s back. He finally noticed that I was in a relationship on FB and he messaged me. And now my heart is breaking.

All he wanted was for me to go visit him at his end of the country. He had the place planned out that he was going to bare his soul and tell me everything that he felt. He was going to make his commitment to me. All I had to do was go to that poxy wedding and I would have had My Mr. Grey. Fuck.

I’m going to cry myself to sleep. I’ll update tomorrow when I can think straight. Now what the fuck am I gonna do?

T-Minus 6 Sleeps. I Had a Dream.

It’s 6 sleeps until I see OB again but it’s not him I was dreaming of last night. Oh no ladies & gentlebugs; The Big Love has made a reappearance.

It’s been a while since he popped into my life again and I guess it was only a matter of time before I thought about him. I was in bed. It was 3am and I couldn’t sleep… AGAIN. Insomnia has hit me once again. Thanks for fucking my pattern up OB!

I was doing that thing you do when you can’t sleep – I let my mind wander. I let my mind wander back to the time where The Big Love was sulking downstairs in bed as I was upstairs on the couch jerking off. I had tried to have sex with him and he said no. He used to hold sex over me like nothing else I had ever experienced. He even told me once that he wanted us to stop having sex until we had sorted the rest of our relationship out. If I wanted it, he would hold it just out of my reach, making up every little excuse that he could to avoid sleeping with me. I’d ask him if he would turn the light off and as he did so, he would say the words “I was going to have sex with you tonight but now, because you couldn’t even turn the light off, I’m not! I hope you’re happy!” That was what he did right at the end. It was nothing short of brutality.

Anyway, this particular night I had stormed upstairs to the couch, grabbing my rabbit as I did so. It was only a few minutes of me happily buzzing away when I heard him quietly come up the stairs. As he got to the top, I saw him – he had his grey boxer shorts on and I could quite clearly see his massive erection beneath them. He didn’t even say a word, he just walked over to me and put his cock in my mouth. It was a moment I had dreamed about so many times as I lay on the couch, desperately trying to get myself off to spite him. We had sex right there on the couch. It was fast, it was furious and it was well-needed. It was like the sex OB and I had on the last night he was here, right after I dashed to the bathroom and removed my tampon. Fuck it was hot.

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I must have fallen asleep with that thought of The Big Love and I on the couch in my head because the next thing I knew, it was 9am and I had awoken, playing with myself after the most vivid dream I’ve ever had about Big Love. In fact, the most vivid dream I’ve ever had PERIOD.

I was soaking wet. Like actually dripping wet. I was hot and clammy. My chest was scorching hot. My breath was rapid. My heart was racing. I was on the brink of orgasm. I did what any other normal person would have done – I finished getting myself off to the dream that I had just woken up from.

OB was in my dream. He was watching Big Love and I through a crack in the door. Big Love had flown across from the other side of the world and somehow ended up in my bedroom, at the end of my bed, telling me how much OB wasn’t going to keep me happy and how he was my “safe” choice. I was defending OB in my dream. Big Love crawled over to me and was laying between my legs, face just inches from mine, holding himself over me with his powerful arms. He kept telling me that only he could give me the sex I wanted, that he knew OB didn’t kiss me right, and how that he knew I wanted him right there and it was only a matter of time before I just gave in.

I wasn’t aware that OB was watching us through the crack in the door. The next thing I knew, Big Love and I were kissing furiously and our clothes were being tugged from our hot bodies. He held his cock just millimeters away from me and looked dead in my eyes: “You know when this happens it’s going to be amazing?” I nodded. I could feel his heat. Ohhhh! He thrust into me with such force, I was pushed up the bed, hands desperately grabbing for the sheets, grabbing for anything to hold on to. I woke up.

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My back was arched, almost as if mimicking the shape of my body pushed up the wall in my dream. I have never had a dream quite so real; so vivid. It was amazing. My body was hot in exactly the places he had his hands in the dream. It was like he was actually there in the bed with me and just disappeared as I awoke. Once I had finished bringing myself to an EARTH SHATTERING orgasm, I thought about what had just happened. I haven’t jerked off about Big Love since we were together – what the hell was he doing in my masturbatory memories bank now? Why was that dream so vivid? Why did it have such an impact on me? I remember it just as clearly now as I did when I woke up. I thought you were meant to forget dreams? I know I always do usually.

What’s up with the whole OB watching us thing too? Is this my head telling me that I should pursue Big Love and leave OB behind? Is it a warning for things to come? Is Big Love going to pop back into my life again, perhaps not quite as surprisingly as turning up on my doorstep, but maybe by a Facebook message or something? What the fuck? If dreams are supposed to mean something, I dread to think what this one means?!

The worst thing of all, of course, is the fact that I masturbated to this dream of Big Love again just half an hour ago. I got horny in the middle of a conversation with OB and left the phone on the chair while I climbed on top of the bed, smoked a doobie and bought myself to another earth shattering orgasm, even more so than this morning. All while thinking of Big Love holding his cock millimeters from my soaking wet pussy.

OB is going to be here in 6 sleeps. I need to get out of this Big Love wank scenario right now. I can’t do this when he is here – he already knows I talk and play with myself in my sleep. If I am jerking off while muttering Big Love’s name, things are going to get mighty awkward.

Anyone out there a dream specialist? Does anyone want to fill me in what the fuck this is meant to mean?

 

 

Climaxing Too Soon Will Get You Beaten!

As Sheldon Cooper from The Big Bang Theory would say – “Watch your back Jack, bitches be crazy!”

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Never a truer word could be said as I wandered around on the internet one night and came across this simply hilarious (not not really) post on The Eagle Online, simply titled “Florida Woman Arrested for assaulting boyfriend over bad oral sex”

First of all, holy fucking cow. Who the hell beats their partner up after bad sex? We all get frustrated, but ladies; get your shit together!

Looking further into the tale and I come to the conclusion that this is not the only case of battery after bad sex. There are plenty of stories to look upon with horror. Wow, bitches really do be crazy!

I’ve had my fair of bad sex. I’ve had my fair of good sex. At not one point, during either of these two sexual styles, did I want to beat the living crap out of my partner because I deemed his lovemaking skills not worthy. I’ve wanted to beat a few, of course, but with whips and paddles…… Not my fist!

Do guys really piss you off so bad in bed that you feel the need to batter them? I’ve never felt like that with a guy that’s not managed to get me off, but I strop and sulk, preferring to play with myself VERY LOUDLY so that they can hear and feel bad. Then, when they come running with their tales between their legs, horny because they can hear me climaxing in the next room, begging for a quick shot, I say no and carry on having my wicked way with myself.  And guys – you always do it. What’s the point?

Now don’t get me wrong, I don’t like to fake it and I rarely do these days. If I’m not going to cum, you had better change your style, and if that doesn’t work I’ll just do it myself. I can just as easily reach my hand between my legs and fiddle while you are fucking me from behind, thank you very much. I don’t see the point in faking. Men need encouragement. Give them the wrong encouragement and you are setting yourself up for a very long and unsatisfying sex life. How do you ever expect them to get it right?

However…. I know that the body is not a simple machine. Sometimes girls can’t climax. Sometimes boys can’t climax. For the most part, it is no-one’s fault. These things happen. The body is a very complex instrument, and one that should not be taken lightly. Sometimes they can’t get a rhythm on your clit, and sometimes you can’t bounce at the right intensity when you are on top – shit happens, get over it!

Seriously ladies who are currently beating their boyfriends for bad oral sex; give it a rest! The guys have a hard enough time trying to please us women, without us beating on them for not getting it right. Practice makes perfect – it’s the perfect excuse to get more of what you like, and to train him at the same time too!

Back to the slightly more serious topic of this conversation, we should look at the implications of such a crime. Jail. Actual jail time. He may come first tonight, but remember where he’s going to be coming when you are in JAIL!!!! Think about this seriously – it doesn’t make any sense!

If you ever get the urge to batter your boyfriends when he comes prematurely, why not show him how it’s done and punish him at the same time? It makes perfect sense – tie him up at the end of the bed and watch him squirm while you bring yourself to an earth-shattering orgasm just out his reach. There’s no better conclusion. And no one has to go to jail.

I Need a Soldier! (Meet Number 26)

“I know some soldiers in here (Where they at, where they at)
They wanna take care of me (Where they at)”

I love this old Destiny’s Child song and its funny (and apt) that I somehow managed to flick on to this song today of all days! Just this morning, One Ball and I had a conversation about him leaving the Military. The redundancies list was out today, and thousands of soldiers were finding out whether or not they were up to take a redundancy package. Yes – the military really is THAT shit! His name was on that list but thankfully, he wanted the redundancy package anyway and was kinda praying on it.

He told me that he was excited to get “baked” with me at the end of the year if his name was on that redundancy list. My “high times” intrigue him I think, and I guess he wants to experience them with me. I told him that I was happy for him that he got what he wanted but sad that he was no longer going to be my soldier boy. He responded with the following line:

“Is me being a solider a big thing for you?”

That question stopped me in my tracks and I’ve not been able to stop thinking about since that moment. What is it about a soldier that really gets me going? Why can I not keep away from them?

In my list of guys that I’ve slept with, (see What’s Your Number?) the following guys were in the military:

  • Number 7 – The Hubby
  • Number 8 – The Hubby’s best man, AKA Wonder Woman. See the story here – Bad Text Sex, Good Car Sex, The Exclusive Chat…
  • Number 10 – Wasn’t in the military but was very close to the lifestyle…. I don’t know if this counts?
  • Number 11 – The Fake Italian
  • Number 12 – The Asshole
  • Number 16 – I was almost a hooker I think?
  • Number 20 – RAF guy
  • Number 23 – My Mr. Grey. He was in the military, and still kinda is.
  • Number 24 – The Older Guy
  • Number 25 – The Take Me to the Woods Guy. We need to talk about this.
  • Number 26 – The Neighbor’s Husband. We need to talk about this too.
  • Number 27 – The Guy with the Big Ears. We definitely need to talk about this.
  • Number 28 – The Married Guy
  • Number 37 – OB

Holy Fuck. Out of my 39 guys (I need to add 2 more that I remembered on the list) I have slept with 15 guys (again, one of those I remembered was in the Navy) that are in military uniform. Forty percent of the guys I sleep with are in the military. Wow I’m a uniform whore.

What is it about guys in uniform?

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I love a guy in the Army uniform. Sorry, let me rephrase that – I FUCKING WORSHIP A GUY IN THE ARMY UNIFORM. I don’t know if it’s the uniform, the smell, the job or the overall look but it drives me fucking crazy. Even the ugliest of men has the potential to look like Jeremy Renner when he is in the military uniform for me. Just take Numbers 16, 10 and 8 – ugliest guys I’ve ever seen, I still fucked ‘em!

I don’t think it’s any one thing that attracts women like me to men like that. I think it’s a whole host of things all packaged nicely in one multi-tone green packaging. Their punctuality, for example; they are always on time. I don’t think a Soldier Boy has ever kept me waiting. They are easy on the eye too – they have the same kind of features such as short hair, strong muscle tone (not all, of course), a specific way of walking, and a smile to die for. God these Soldier Boys can charm. Most of them don’t even know they are doing it. They are cocky and arrogant. Even the uglier, fattest ones have an abundance of wankerish charm – it charms the pants off of most women; even those that are tougher to crack! If a Solider Boy wants you, there is a good chance that he is going to have you. That’s not always a good thing; they have a love for sleeping around and the reputations to match. It’s that whole thing that women do – trying to change a bad man into something good. You can’t change a man, the relationship is never going to get better, and it is going to be a very passionate yet very swift love affair.

Soldier Boys are bad boys. Even the most faithful and well behaved military hubby’s have their own dirty secrets. Take Number 26 – the Neighbor’s Husband. He was a cute boy – not too attractive but had an amazing, infectious personality that would send most women to their knees. He had big blue eyes and white blonde hair, trim and toned, with a beautiful cock. He had tattoos. Some of these were joke tattoos like the robot fucking the ginger fat girl he had tattooed on his ass. Some were more sentimental than that. The combination of the two made him incredibly fucking hot.

He was the joker – he was always there for others and had the amazing potential to make anyone giggle their asses off. He once climbed up two balconies’s to get into my apartment. He used my yoga ball to walk on my ceiling and leave dirty footprints up the wall and across the roof. He was funny. And very, very cute.

The Neighbor’s Husband was someone that I knew I wanted and eventually, I knew I’d get. I have this weird thing of generally always getting what I want; men included. He was definitely on my to-do list, that’s for sure.

The first night, I’m not even sure where his wife or The Hubby was, he was in my place. We had a few bottles of beer, shared a large pizza, and ended up having a water fight. I have no idea how these weird situations always seem to happen to me…? I was bent backwards over the arm of my couch facing him. He was leaning above me with a jug of water in his hand. We were both pretty wet. See where I’m going with this…?

I’m not even sure what happened. We both just stopped and looked at each for a split second, almost as if asking permission. I just remember getting this massive burst of bravery and going in for the kiss. Thankfully he responded positively. I had a mustard colored sweater on that he had commented he liked once before. He ripped it off. Like actually ripped it. Afterwards I was pissed; I quite liked that sweater. I don’t remember fucking him that night, it was almost 4 years ago now. Maybe even more than that. Probably more. I just remember this build up – the split second of my life that felt like eternity. The split second where you are asking another married person if they want to cheat on their partner without actually saying a single word. If you’ve ever been there, you’ll know how that feels.

We hooked up a few times after that. I think we actually only fucked three or four times perhaps. There were a lot of blowjobs and a shit ton of stolen kisses. He knew about my passionate affair with The Guy with Big Ears – Number 27. I’m pretty sure he fucked me in the ass one night over a bowl of Spaghetti-O’s in the living room. I’m almost one hundred percent sure he used my rabbit on me once too. It was just sex. It was pretty good sex too.

The Neighbor’s Husband is the one person that knew the most about me while I lived in the other European country. He knew about everything The Hubby was getting up to as well, which put him at a bit of an advantage. I don’t think he was a bad guy at all. Her certainly didn’t take advantage of me or make me do something I didn’t want to do. I don’t really think he meant to cheat on his wife either. It was just something that happened sometimes when we were drunk. I don’t think it ever happened while we were sober. It never meant anything to either of us and it certainly didn’t make our friendship weird.

It was weird because out of all of them, this guy was the one I felt least bad about. We had the most to lose – he was the only married one out of all of them I cheated on The Hubby with. It never got bad though; we never *almost* got caught, and it was never dangerous. People trusted us together as we were pretty good friends from the start, so it just made our lie all the more simpler to create.

We never really ended because we never really started. It was never a “feeling” thing – it was just something two drunk fuck buddies do when they are drunk and fancy a fuck – is that really such a bad thing?

That’s the big thing about Soldier Boys – they are bad boys. You can argue with me and tell me that there are some nice guys out there, and there probably are, it’s just that I haven’t met them yet. I’ve seen a different perspective than you see – I’ve been inside the “Hive”. The dirty little secrets that go on behind closed doors are ripe in the military world. To be honest, the doors weren’t even that closed to begin with. There were cheats and liars, swingers and cross-dressers, wife beaters and suicidal’s. You name it; every bizarre and out-of-the-norm thing that you can imagine, it goes on behind the closed doors of the military world.

Do I feel bad about cheating on The Hubby with The Neighbor’s Husband? No because I never got caught out. Would I have felt bad if we had have been caught? Yes of course I would, but I wouldn’t have felt bad for me, I would have felt bad for his wife – she was a pain in the ass and vindictive bitch at times, but she didn’t deserve to be cheated on. The Hubby totally deserved to be cheated on. The things he did to me backed me into a corner where I had no one. No one expect for The Neighbor’s Husband. It was my little rebellion while I was with him – it was my escape. Perhaps that’s why it didn’t mean anything – he gave me what I needed from The Hubby but never got?

In conclusion, I still have no clue what it is about Soldier Boys. I don’t know what their appeal was or still is. I don’t know if it’s the way they look or the glorious smells they have, the free and easy sex they offer, or the charm that they don’t know they have for the most part. One thing is for sure – I love me a good army boy, and I am very sad that OB is not going to be a Soldier Boy this time next year. Let’s just hope he keeps some of those Soldier Boy mannerisms to keep my attention span on him…

You Smell Good, You Do!

Someone bought OB cologne for Christmas even though he doesn’t wear it so he decided to leave it at my place to wear when he is down here with me. It happens to be one of my favorite male fragrances and has a tendency to sink me to my knees…. It smelt delicious on him. I sprayed it on myself before bed in a bid to feel comfortable and hopefully sleep the whole night through. I can’t sleep when someone is not in the bed with me and when I finally get used to it after coming home from the other side of the world and The Big Love, OB comes along, spends two out of three weeks with me in my bed, and fucks it all up. I’m back to no sleep. Not even after a lot of weed 😦

I sprayed the perfume on myself and it did bring me to my knees, but not for the reason I had expected. Instantly I was back on the other side of the world, on the freezing cold balcony having a cheeky cigarette, smelling The Big Love as he made BBQ pork chops behind me. I suddenly remembered why I loved the cologne – It was his. The Big Loves.
Paco Rabanne – One Million was the culprit. I bought it for him, and he later bought me the female version for our anniversary. It became our fragrance – his n’ hers. All of a sudden I remembered why I liked it so much. 
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I loved that The Big Love was as into beauty and fashion as I was towards the end. He was hopeless right at the beginning, much like OB is now. I fix them up, that’s what I do. He had a very impressive perfume collection that almost rivalled my own and he always smelt fantastic to me. Every fragrance he wore instantly became sexy. He had a few signature smells that still drives me insane now.

 

This begs the question though – when OB sprayed himself with Paco Robanne – One Million, did I jump his bones and feel myself gush because it was him wearing it, or because he reminded me of The Big Love?
Perfumes have a habit of attaching me to the men in my life. For example, The Bestie I’ve Never Had a Dalliance With wears Jean Paul Gaultier. That’s what he’s worn the whole time I’ve known him. I once bought him the classic Hugo Boss too so this will always remind me of him. The Jean Paul Gaultier fragrance also reminds me of my Papa Smurf. I don’t ever recall The Big Love ever wearing it. I know he had it and he wore it from time to time, but that fragrance doesn’t make me think of him, which is weird.
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Number 4 (The Fireman) will always be Fahrenheit by Dior. Spicy, intense and testosterone drive, this perfume drives me fucking crazy. It could be the scabbiest guy in the world wearing it and I’d still become instantly aroused. I bought it for The Big Love but it doesn’t remind me of him either.
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Number 20 (The RAF Guy) will always be Kourus by Yves Saint Laurent. It’s an out dated fragrance now but it still makes me smile whenever I wear it.
The Hubby will always be Cerruti 1881 for men. Maybe Jean Paul Gaultier from time to time too. He had a few fragrances but he rarely wore them. It was usually for my benefit when he did. Cerruti became our fragrance as once again, he had the male version and then later bought me the female one.
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Lynx Africa will always remind me of The Lapdog. This isn’t a good association but somehow, for him, it works. I bought him Carolina Herrera – 212 Sexy for Men for his birthday but I never got to smell him in it. It will still remind me of him though, in much the same was as Diesel – Only The Brave Tattoo will always be the one I associate with The Guy I Couldn’t Get Rid Of because I bought it for him for his birthday.
Smells are very important to me because of the associations I create with them. This technically means that in order for me to associate OB as being a big part of my life, I would need to put a smell on him too. The thing is his natural scent drives me fucking crazy, which I’m sure I’ve mentioned before. Is this then going to be “our” smell? How am I ever going to be reminded of it if it is only him that has it?
I need to buy OB a perfume that matches him and drives me crazy too. He isn’t into fragrances at all. He has an old bottle of Joop! that he’s had for years, and now the One Million one as well, but aside from that, he’s a natural smell and shower gel scent kinda guy. Finding him a fragrance is going to be a difficult task. I need something playful and fun, simple yet complex, spicy yet sweet. I need to go smell shopping.
Damn! What a shame 😉