(no subject)
This is only some of it, not quite done yet
Chapter Three - One hell of a sin -
It’s been three months. All of my friends know what I mean when I say that, no matter the context. I haven’t had sex in three months. I haven’t gone this long without sex ever, excluding of course the first 20 years of my life. I know what your thinking, 20 years, really? Yeah. It’s not that I didn’t want to, trust me I really did. It’s just that I had a lot of trouble finding someone I wouldn’t regret having my first time with. I wasn’t looking for someone to spend the rest of my life with. I just wanted to be able to look back at the experience and know that I didn’t make a mistake.
A few guys had caught my eye freshman and sophomore year of college, well more than a few. It’s amazing how many men in this town don’t know what they could have had. I wonder now what they would do if they knew. Most of them left me because they thought they were never going to get in my pants. Max had been one of them, seems he made up for lost time though, or at least tried to.
It always happened, and I mean without fail, that as soon as I started to really consider a guy, he would leave me, or in a few instances he would do something really douchbagy and I would leave him. One way or another, it always fell apart just as we were getting close.
I ended up losing it to Jake. Even though the relationship was shit, I don’t regret it because I know that for a long time he made me happy. I should have gotten out of it a lot sooner, but I was in love and blind to just how bad it was for a long time. I bring him up because, before this dry spell, the longest I had been without sex was the month and a half I was in Kenya.
When I got back to find that he had cheated I was crushed. I should have known it would come, he was never very patient, but this meant I had to leave him, no question; there is no second chance in that situation. None. I had been with him for so long I didn’t know who I could turn to that could help me with my womanly needs. I found Sam; well reconnected might be a better term. Sam was an old crush of mine from a few years back and we had fooled around a few times. When I got back in touch with him I acted like it was on a whim and let him think that he had come up with the idea.
At first he kept telling me that it would be best if nothing happened between us because he was so caught up in his ex. I said that was fine, but let the idea fester in his mind. Then one night it all fell together, he drunk dialed me to tell me that his friends thought we should make-out again. I just said okay. I think that kind of threw him for a loop but he recovered and suggested doing a little more. Again I just said I would okay with that, as long as he was. I didn’t want him doing anything he might regret, I said. I don’t think he’s ever regretted that decision. Since then I’ve gotten it on a regular basis.
I know this might sound crazy, but I promised Patrick I would wait for him. I’m sure he assumed I meant I wouldn’t get into a relationship with anyone until I could be in one with him. But in truth I meant the whole package was his. I’ve had to turn down Sam a few times now, which is something I never ever would have done before. I used to wake up at 3am on a Wednesday when he had called me drunk after dart league and throw on some sexy panties, or no panties, and drive the half hour to his place to spend the night with him. Not anymore though, I can’t, I’m waiting for Patrick. Which is a good thing I suppose because I don’t think I could compare Sam to Patrick. He was the single best lay of my life.
I’m not even sure how we kept our cloths on all the way to my house but I do know that they came off almost immediately after getting inside. I’ve had great “throw me against a wall, leave a trail of clothing to the bedroom sex” before, but this was something I’d never experienced. I almost wish we had video taped it. I don’t even mean that in a sexual way. It’s just that it was like the “first time” scene from a romantic comedy.
We got into my bedroom somehow and kicked my cat out; locking the door so we wouldn’t have worry about any visitors, always have to be thinking. My shirt and bra had been discarded in the living room but he was still fully clothed. I looked up at him and knew I was going to have to take charge to change that. I pulled his shirt off instantly and he was on top of me again, the skin of our torsos like fire against each other. His dog tags jangled between us and he sat up momentarily to pull them over his head and discard them on the nightstand. When he returned to me I flipped him over and straddled him. As I reached for his pants I discovered an obstacle, he was wearing a belt. “Oh…” I said with an overly concerned look on my face.
“What is it?” he said, with a very similar, somewhat frightened look.
I’ve always had a very strict no belt rule. I just don’t deal with them. If a man is going to wear a belt with me he’s taking off his own pants, that’s not my job. It’s odd I know, but a girl’s got to have standards. I stood at the end of the bed staring at him, a puzzled look on my face. I looked at the belt, and then back up at him, and knew it. I was going to have to break more than one of my rules tonight. I sucked it up, smiled, and started to work on the belt.
“I’m breaking another very big rule right now.” I said looking at him playfully as I worked.
“Yeah, what’s that?” He smiled, confident again.
“I don’t do belts. I’m making an exception for you, consider yourself fortunate.” I said matter of factly.
“Oh, trust me, I do.” he groaned as I ripped the belt out his pants. I never said I’m not good with belts, just that I don’t like them.
With the obstacle overcome I kissed my way back up his torso, leaving his pants on for now. I like to tease a bit. As soon as I was within reach his hands grabbed for the button on my pants. Making quick work of it. He flipped me onto my back and I slithered slightly as he quickly discarded my pants. He climbed back onto the bed, kissing his way up my legs, to my thighs, teasing me a bit in my most sensitive spots and looked up at me from there, that cocky look I love on his face. He grabbed the thin fabric of my panties and kissed his way back down my legs as he removed them as well. I decided now would be a good time to stop teasing him.
Before he had a chance to climb back on top, I took control. I got up and threw him onto the bed, returning to his pants. There I ran into another obstacle. He didn’t have a zipper; he had four buttons, FOUR OF THEM! He just wasn’t going to make this easy for me was he? I muttered something along those lines while I once again set to work trying to deprive him of his pants. I’m sure it only took second but each botton seemed to snag in a new way and I was really getting frustrated. When I finally overcame obstacle number two, I began to plot a good way to get around a chastity belt because I felt as though, the way things had progressed in this area, there was a good chance I would run into one.
I breathed a sigh of relief as I pulled down his pants to find nothing out of the ordinary. A pair of boxers with sailboats on them was all that was standing between me and the full salute that was pushing against the fabric; he was putting up one hell of an effort too. It wanted out, just as bad as I wanted it out. I smiled in triumph. I had defeated all the obstacles and the trophy was mine! I was half tempted to do a victory dance or turn and stick my tongue defiantly out at the belt and pants on my floor, but choose instead I would claim my prize gracefully.
I pulled off the boxers like a little kid unwrapping a Christmas present and sure enough, it was just what I’d always wanted.
I’ve never been a big fan of the term “making love” but I can’t think of any other way to describe what happened next. The way our bodies moved together, the look in his eyes when he met my gaze. I’m sure I’ve mentioned that I’ve had tons of great sex in my life, but I’ll say it again, for good measure, I’ve had TONS of great sex in my life. This though… this was unlike anything I’d ever experienced. The way he caressed my body, as if I was some sort of goddess to be worshiped, it was all so new to me. He knew just what to do, without my having to say a word, or give a hint. He was gentle, but in a rough way, in a way I can’t describe in coherent terms. He was, in a word, divine. Or, in seven words, the best fucking lay of my life.
We lay together after, legs entwined, my face buried in his chest, his chin resting on my head, catching our breath, waiting for the world to stop shaking. I don’t know what time it was when we finally fell asleep but I do know it was the best four to five hours of sleep I’ve ever gotten in my life. I do know what time it was when we woke up though, 8am, 8 fucking a.m.
Chapter Three - One hell of a sin -
It’s been three months. All of my friends know what I mean when I say that, no matter the context. I haven’t had sex in three months. I haven’t gone this long without sex ever, excluding of course the first 20 years of my life. I know what your thinking, 20 years, really? Yeah. It’s not that I didn’t want to, trust me I really did. It’s just that I had a lot of trouble finding someone I wouldn’t regret having my first time with. I wasn’t looking for someone to spend the rest of my life with. I just wanted to be able to look back at the experience and know that I didn’t make a mistake.
A few guys had caught my eye freshman and sophomore year of college, well more than a few. It’s amazing how many men in this town don’t know what they could have had. I wonder now what they would do if they knew. Most of them left me because they thought they were never going to get in my pants. Max had been one of them, seems he made up for lost time though, or at least tried to.
It always happened, and I mean without fail, that as soon as I started to really consider a guy, he would leave me, or in a few instances he would do something really douchbagy and I would leave him. One way or another, it always fell apart just as we were getting close.
I ended up losing it to Jake. Even though the relationship was shit, I don’t regret it because I know that for a long time he made me happy. I should have gotten out of it a lot sooner, but I was in love and blind to just how bad it was for a long time. I bring him up because, before this dry spell, the longest I had been without sex was the month and a half I was in Kenya.
When I got back to find that he had cheated I was crushed. I should have known it would come, he was never very patient, but this meant I had to leave him, no question; there is no second chance in that situation. None. I had been with him for so long I didn’t know who I could turn to that could help me with my womanly needs. I found Sam; well reconnected might be a better term. Sam was an old crush of mine from a few years back and we had fooled around a few times. When I got back in touch with him I acted like it was on a whim and let him think that he had come up with the idea.
At first he kept telling me that it would be best if nothing happened between us because he was so caught up in his ex. I said that was fine, but let the idea fester in his mind. Then one night it all fell together, he drunk dialed me to tell me that his friends thought we should make-out again. I just said okay. I think that kind of threw him for a loop but he recovered and suggested doing a little more. Again I just said I would okay with that, as long as he was. I didn’t want him doing anything he might regret, I said. I don’t think he’s ever regretted that decision. Since then I’ve gotten it on a regular basis.
I know this might sound crazy, but I promised Patrick I would wait for him. I’m sure he assumed I meant I wouldn’t get into a relationship with anyone until I could be in one with him. But in truth I meant the whole package was his. I’ve had to turn down Sam a few times now, which is something I never ever would have done before. I used to wake up at 3am on a Wednesday when he had called me drunk after dart league and throw on some sexy panties, or no panties, and drive the half hour to his place to spend the night with him. Not anymore though, I can’t, I’m waiting for Patrick. Which is a good thing I suppose because I don’t think I could compare Sam to Patrick. He was the single best lay of my life.
I’m not even sure how we kept our cloths on all the way to my house but I do know that they came off almost immediately after getting inside. I’ve had great “throw me against a wall, leave a trail of clothing to the bedroom sex” before, but this was something I’d never experienced. I almost wish we had video taped it. I don’t even mean that in a sexual way. It’s just that it was like the “first time” scene from a romantic comedy.
We got into my bedroom somehow and kicked my cat out; locking the door so we wouldn’t have worry about any visitors, always have to be thinking. My shirt and bra had been discarded in the living room but he was still fully clothed. I looked up at him and knew I was going to have to take charge to change that. I pulled his shirt off instantly and he was on top of me again, the skin of our torsos like fire against each other. His dog tags jangled between us and he sat up momentarily to pull them over his head and discard them on the nightstand. When he returned to me I flipped him over and straddled him. As I reached for his pants I discovered an obstacle, he was wearing a belt. “Oh…” I said with an overly concerned look on my face.
“What is it?” he said, with a very similar, somewhat frightened look.
I’ve always had a very strict no belt rule. I just don’t deal with them. If a man is going to wear a belt with me he’s taking off his own pants, that’s not my job. It’s odd I know, but a girl’s got to have standards. I stood at the end of the bed staring at him, a puzzled look on my face. I looked at the belt, and then back up at him, and knew it. I was going to have to break more than one of my rules tonight. I sucked it up, smiled, and started to work on the belt.
“I’m breaking another very big rule right now.” I said looking at him playfully as I worked.
“Yeah, what’s that?” He smiled, confident again.
“I don’t do belts. I’m making an exception for you, consider yourself fortunate.” I said matter of factly.
“Oh, trust me, I do.” he groaned as I ripped the belt out his pants. I never said I’m not good with belts, just that I don’t like them.
With the obstacle overcome I kissed my way back up his torso, leaving his pants on for now. I like to tease a bit. As soon as I was within reach his hands grabbed for the button on my pants. Making quick work of it. He flipped me onto my back and I slithered slightly as he quickly discarded my pants. He climbed back onto the bed, kissing his way up my legs, to my thighs, teasing me a bit in my most sensitive spots and looked up at me from there, that cocky look I love on his face. He grabbed the thin fabric of my panties and kissed his way back down my legs as he removed them as well. I decided now would be a good time to stop teasing him.
Before he had a chance to climb back on top, I took control. I got up and threw him onto the bed, returning to his pants. There I ran into another obstacle. He didn’t have a zipper; he had four buttons, FOUR OF THEM! He just wasn’t going to make this easy for me was he? I muttered something along those lines while I once again set to work trying to deprive him of his pants. I’m sure it only took second but each botton seemed to snag in a new way and I was really getting frustrated. When I finally overcame obstacle number two, I began to plot a good way to get around a chastity belt because I felt as though, the way things had progressed in this area, there was a good chance I would run into one.
I breathed a sigh of relief as I pulled down his pants to find nothing out of the ordinary. A pair of boxers with sailboats on them was all that was standing between me and the full salute that was pushing against the fabric; he was putting up one hell of an effort too. It wanted out, just as bad as I wanted it out. I smiled in triumph. I had defeated all the obstacles and the trophy was mine! I was half tempted to do a victory dance or turn and stick my tongue defiantly out at the belt and pants on my floor, but choose instead I would claim my prize gracefully.
I pulled off the boxers like a little kid unwrapping a Christmas present and sure enough, it was just what I’d always wanted.
I’ve never been a big fan of the term “making love” but I can’t think of any other way to describe what happened next. The way our bodies moved together, the look in his eyes when he met my gaze. I’m sure I’ve mentioned that I’ve had tons of great sex in my life, but I’ll say it again, for good measure, I’ve had TONS of great sex in my life. This though… this was unlike anything I’d ever experienced. The way he caressed my body, as if I was some sort of goddess to be worshiped, it was all so new to me. He knew just what to do, without my having to say a word, or give a hint. He was gentle, but in a rough way, in a way I can’t describe in coherent terms. He was, in a word, divine. Or, in seven words, the best fucking lay of my life.
We lay together after, legs entwined, my face buried in his chest, his chin resting on my head, catching our breath, waiting for the world to stop shaking. I don’t know what time it was when we finally fell asleep but I do know it was the best four to five hours of sleep I’ve ever gotten in my life. I do know what time it was when we woke up though, 8am, 8 fucking a.m.