Virginity

I came across the site Almost 40-Year-Old Virgin and was both interested and fascinated by the author's situation. I had never really thought about it before, but I suppose virgins, especially male virgins, face quite a bit of anxiety, shame, and judgment. Especially so as time goes on and they get older; not just the disdain of others, but I think at some point the virgin begins to question themself, what is wrong with them and whether it is ever going to happen at all.

My personal history includes a few virgins, in addition to having been the first female experience for several women. I have a very tolerant and relaxed view of sex and while, to some degree, I am guilty of the same sort of judgment of older virgins that the predicament elicits in most people, I feel less that it's a big deal, or that it reflects badly on them personally, and more concern and empathy for the person's underlying phobias or insecurities. I suppose because sex and physical intimacy have come very naturally to me, I find myself wanting to help someone who is struggling with those things.

One of my ex-girlfriends was 31 and had never had sex with anyone. She had been kissed a few times and got to second base once with a guy, but she confessed that she really did not enjoy any of the experiences. Her personality was such that she had put relationships and sex on the back burner while all her focus was on what she considered to be most important at the time: school and straightening out her life. When I met her, she hadn't even sorted out her sexuality at all, instead using what few experiences she had with men as further proof that being intimately involved with someone was a waste of time and energy. In a way, her virginity was somewhat accidental because opportunities hadn't surfaced for her in the way they have for me. At 31, she was a mixture of terrified, uncomfortable, and grossed out/unexcited by the idea of sex.

We started out as friends, but as we knew each other, our feelings grew. Finally we both admitted we had crushes on each other and after a long talk, we decided to explore things. When I'm excited and/or eager about something, I have a difficult time with patience and not pushing, but I honestly did try to go as slowly as I could. It wasn't easy breaking down the walls she had built up and admittedly, I made some errors with her, but overall, I was definitely a turning point in her life. Even though things didn't work out between us, I'm sincerely glad that despite my mistakes, she has gradually opened up to the world of sex and relationships. She's had several girlfriends since and according to her, some rewarding sexual experiences.

If you watch The Apprentice, you know about Adam, a 22-year-old virgin. Almost 40-Year-Old Virgin's post about the virgin apprentice offers a different perspective. On the show, Adam is sort of scoffed at and made fun of for his virginity and his discomfort with sex, in addition to being very much put on the spot for it on several occasions. My reaction to his virginity and squeamishness was probably not far from the reaction of the others on the show. I was so busy paying attention to how Trump would handle Clay's homosexuality that I failed to realize everyone's judgment of Adam was wrong. What's sort of perplexing to me is that according to Trump, it is better to be gay than a virgin.. this, in a country that is petrified of and which constantly marginalizes homosexuals, gay men in particular, so to make such an allusion just goes to show how low virgins rank on the social totem pole. Sorry, guys.. that just sucks.

I think part of it is that most people don't realize there is a segment of the population that is terrified and uncomfortable at the prospect of intimacy. It's so easy to hear that someone is a virgin and chalk them up as having some innate personal flaw that has precluded them from shrugging off the onus of virginity. But think about it.. we don't marginalize people who are phobic of air travel, or dogs, or swimming in large bodies of water. So does having social phobias make someone a loser? I think not, at least no more than anyone who has a different phobia, but what's odd in our society is that if such a phobia prevents someone, especially men, from being sexually active, then automatically something is wrong with them.

The 'virgin apprentice' post got me thinking and looking at the situation in a new light. I have lately realized that I'm not just 'shy', I think I have some real social phobias, especially when it comes to large groups of people. I know it's not logical, but I have real fears when it comes to other people in social situations. So even though my fears manifest in a different way, I completely understand and empathize with both Adam and Almost 40-Year-Old Virgin. And in that light, I think the judgment isn't fair. A phobia is irrational by nature and anyone who has one knows that it takes a lot of work to overcome.

Lastly, I think the dichotomy of male and female sexuality rears its ugly head in this area. As ever, it is considered the norm for men to act like dogs and fuck whatever moves, but failure to conform to this ideal results in harsh social judgment. It definitely is different for men. While there will always be men lining up to relieve a woman of her virginity, no matter her age, male virginity automatically puts in mind the question of what is wrong with the guy.. is he a loser, ugly, nerdy? Of course, the older one gets without having sex only compounds the issue. It challenges the stereotype of the virile man who wants to dip his pen into whatever well is available and people can't seem to wrap their minds around the fact that not all men are like this.

Now that I think of it, shame on both Clay and myself. As non-heterosexuals, we both should know full well that you cannot judge a person or their quality based solely on their sexuality. In my mind, that includes someone who hasn't explored it yet. I'll be checking back on Almost 40-Year-Old Virgin to see how things unfold.

Hellooooo....

Wow.. nearly a month since my last post. I'm surprised no one sent the cops over to my place to make sure I was still alive. Anyway, I really didn't mean it to be a month.. it seems like time gets away from me sometimes.

I'd apologize to anyone still reading, but I feel in some ways, I was preventing myself from truly boring you all. While I still don't have this blog pinned down, the one thing I know I don't want it to be is boring. The minutiae of relationships is interesting to an extent, but I feel it would be tedious here if there is no point or critical idea to draw from. I want my readers to feel less as therapists and more as confidantes. Also, if I am going to recount my life, I want to feel truly inspired to do so. It's the perfectionist in me; I want to give this blog my very best and I want to feel as if I can stand behind it.

Call it an exhibitionist streak, but I enjoy letting you peek inside my dirty head. What I have posted so far is a mere taste of the kink that resides in my brain and I hope to share that in the future. I think quite a bit and come up with all sorts of random ideas, some of which I try to funnel into writing. Some make it into blog posts, but when I'm not inspired, others get filed away.

I'm tired and in a rambling mood, so you'll have to be forgiving of this disjointed post. I broke up with MC and while the situation is not perfect, we are still friends. She mentioned to me that she would like to be fuck buddies and while that appeals to my libido, my brain keeps putting its foot down. I don't know. My libido ususally wins, but this could be an interesting fight.

When I'm dating someone and having sex regularly, I usually lose my desire to masturbate. As I have mentioned before, masturbation is practically a hobby for me and it is rare that I go a day without. The abstaining is both physical and logical. The regular sex keeps me satisfied, while subduing the desire results in better orgasms later.

This time around, when I went back to my vibrator, I noticed something. I guess it's something I have always sort of vaguely observed. I have better orgasms alone than I do with my partners. I'm not saying I don't have great orgasms during sex, but when allowed to really focus on myself, I have much more intense, longer orgasms alone.

There was such a noticeable difference this time that it prompted me to think about it. The intensity was almost startling at first. It makes me curious as to whether other women find this to be the case. Ladies, when, on average, do you have better orgasms?

I mean, when I'm alone, I can do whatever turns me on the most in that moment. Think about anything I want, truly focus on the sensations. I can really draw out that pre-orgasm peak to result in a huge explosion. Masturbation is good stuff.

Sex is good, too, and I have had some really mindblowing orgasms at the hands of someone else. With MC, I found that as my heart was in the relationship less, the quality of the sex decreased. It's not that she doesn't turn me on, because she definitely does, but sometimes I found myself a little bored. I know it should be hot and that I should be fully into it, so my awareness that my lack of feelings was generally unfair to her was the main thing that drove me to break it off.

All this talk about orgasms and masturbation.. gonna have to go do something about it.

Trouble in Paradise

Okay, so maybe I spoke too soon in my last post. I should know by now that there is no such thing as "easy" when it comes to relationships. It has to be some sort of record for me; not even two weeks and already I'm fucking things up. I'm sure a lot of it is of my own devising, but I wish I understood what happened. Last week, after a particularly lovely afternoon having lunch in the arboretum, MC and I came back to my place and after a bit of making out, we ended up in bed. After an athletic round of sex, we were lying there and she kind of freaked out and started crying. It was mostly her fears of her feelings for me and of being hurt, compounded by some other unrelated issues. She was unconsolable and cried for a while, but eventually she felt better after talking about things and being reassured.

At the time, I was more concerned about her feelings than my own, and so I didn't realize for a few days that what happened freaked me out. Things had been developing so well up to that point, and I definitely had feelings for her. I don't know what it was about it, but that afternoon, it was like someone threw cold water on me. Feelings, poof.

I have a lot of mixed emotions about my current state. Personally, I think it's fucked up. At the very least, I think it's highly unfair to MC, so I have been struggling with it. It's like one of those orgasms that you build up to and know is going to be so great, then all of a sudden, it's just... gone. It defies logic, really.. how can I want and not want someone at the same time? I think she's a great girl and I really want to be romantically involved with her, but I don't seem to be able to get my original feelings back. How does one go from really liking someone to feeling nothing in such a short period of time? If I felt something once, is it possible to get that back if I'm patient? It's not even like emotion or crying freaks me out, so I don't understand my reaction, or why it happening when it did should have such an extinguishing effect on my feelings.

For one, I feel a lot of pressure. Pressure to figure out what is going on with me, pressure to make a decision, pressure to spare MC's feelings, pressure to explain to her what's going on with me without hurting her feelings. Unfortunately, I don't always respond positively to pressure. As unfun as it is being in the center of this, I can only imagine what it looks like to MC, from the outside. Mixed signals, the appearance that I'm jerking her around, that I don't value her.. the great irony is I don't think I'm capable of showing or telling her just how much I do value her, or that I need some time because she deserves someone who isn't half-assing it. I can't fathom that it's been less than two weeks, because it just feels like so much longer. Part of the pressure is that I know just how much she likes me, and that she is waiting for me to make up my fucking mind already so she can relax and enjoy her feelings.

When put in the 'less than two weeks' perspective, I can't help but wonder why we're at this point already. What happened to taking our time to date and get to know each other? But on the other hand, when I think about the things I need right now, space and time to think, it's not like I don't have them already, or that she isn't willing to let me have them. However, I know I am not doing a good job explaining myself to her, which only makes things worse and adds more pressure. She's sensitive, and I know she has feelings for me. Feelings she's fighting because of my indecisiveness and internal conflict.

What's odd to me is that, had my feelings not changed, I would be perfectly happy where we are. When compared to my behavior and reactions in previous relationships, I know damn well that the things that make me want to step on the brakes with MC would not bother me much, or at all, if I was riding the bliss of being with someone I really like. I've been trying to not let on that I'm not so sure anymore, but what I'm most afraid of is hurting her. My intention is not to hurt her or lead her on, so the other day I finally broached the subject. The conversation didn't go very well, mainly because when it comes down to it, I really suck at disclosing and/or explaining my feelings and the craziness inside my head. I don't even really understand my own reaction to that afternoon. How do you explain to someone that you have an On/Off switch that you didn't even know existed?

I asked her for some space and some time, but couldn't explain that I needed those things despite the fact that in some ways, she's giving me a fair amount of leeway. It's just that while I have the freedom on paper, she doesn't seem to understand what I mean by 'space'. She's somewhat clingy, but it's definitely not that she's smothering, because ordinarily, I think I'd like the clinginess and affection. It's not that she's not giving me space, just in some ways, I feel like it's not okay for me to need more. I know it hurts her feelings, and I know she's really unhappy with me right now. She went out of town to visit some friends, and I decided to take the opportunity for time in solitude to think things over. I don't know how to explain to her my intense need for solitude, without her taking it personally. I mean, I'm well aware that we're in the phase of the relationship when I should be wanting more time with her, not less.

She called me on her way back to town, and the conversation went pretty well, at least up until the point where she asked how the space thing was going. I had mentioned my need for alone time in a previous conversation, so that it wouldn't be a huge surprise when I had to take it. So I spent about a day out of communication with MC, thinking things over, trying to relax, trying to relieve some of the pressure. It was working, actually, and part of me wished I had one more day because I suspected it would help quite a bit. So when she asked me yesterday how it was going, I didn't know how to respond, so I went ahead and asked for two days. Only I think maybe I was too blunt, because it was clear her feelings were hurt. The way she told me in a faux-casual voice to take the time I needed, and then added in an unhappy tone that I could take a month, made me feel like such a bitch.

That's where we are now. Obviously, I'm not good with translating my thoughts and feelings with tact, and I'm still trying to figure out what the hell is wrong with me. Everything is put together and it has all the elements I want, except for the nagging fact that most of the time, I don't feel what I should. I have no plan and I don't know what to do. I keep thinking it would be more fair to her to simply be friends in order to spare her my emotional freakishness, but I don't want to be just friends. Maybe that's selfish of me. Oy.

This post is definitely longer than I intended; the truth is, I have had no one to talk to and I have desperately needed to discuss this, even if just with myself.

Some BDSM Resources

I compiled this list because MC wanted to do some reading on the subject. I figured I'd post it in case anyone is curious and doesn't know where to start.

Why BDSM?
BDSM Scenarios
The Good Girl's Guide to Female Domination
Leather and Roses: BDSM Resources Site
BDSM Resources
BDSM Beginners
BDSM Info on About.com
Advice to a Novice Dominant
BDSM Handbook
Introduction to Spanking

Good Things

Life works in very mysterious and interesting ways. The enlightenment of moments when all the pieces fall into place make struggling through what life throws at us completely worth it. I had a booty call set up for Friday, someone amazingly cool and cute that I found on Craigslist, but after a week of getting all worked up for the date, the plans fell through. Not really anyone's fault, but I was rather sexually frustrated upon realizing I wasn't going to be getting any, and I ended up taking it out on my vibrator several times throughout the weekend.

Two Thursdays ago, I received a "wink" from someone who liked my profile on Match.com. She had no picture in her profile, but I read it over and found she sounded interesting. We had common likes and interests, so I winked back. As I live two hours away from my female best friend, I have been wanting to meet someone here that I can really talk to. Not to mention I know virtually no queer people in this town, so I figured I'd approach it from the friends angle and see what happened.

I got an email from her in response, and because I don't subscribe to Match, they stripped her email address from the note. She sounded really cool and I wanted to write her back. As I was debating whether to subscribe to reply (and cursing the fact that Match's free trials are never offered when there's someone I want to contact), lo and behold, a 3-day trial offer arrived in my mailbox. Providence? Perhaps, but whoever I have to thank for a small miracle, I jumped on it and wrote her back.

We corresponded a bit, then started talking on the phone. On Saturday, we decided to meet and have dinner on Sunday night. I went into this not thinking it was a date, so I was unnaturally calm. In fact, it's actually kind of weird, because usually I'm nervous throughout a meeting with someone new. Not thinking of it as a date actually worked very much in my favor because she ended up being very cute and sexy -- and damn, she has one yummy ass.

I told my personal "Hitch" about the 22-ish hours I spent with MC on our first date and how bizarre it was that I was so calm. First he cheered me on like the awesome guy he is, then he kind of laughed and asked me if I knew what I'd done. The Tao of Steve? I guessed.

He said, Yeah. You eliminated all desire.

I laughed and replied, It was totally an accident, too..

MC, on the other hand, was really nervous. I kind of got the vibe that she liked me, so I just relaxed even more. We had a good conversation over dinner, then ended up at her apartment to watch the Martha Stewart movie. We had a couple of drinks, lounged on the couch to laugh at the movie, all the while gradually moving closer to each other. Eventually she leaned her head on my shoulder and asked if she could snuggle, and of course I agreed. I put my arm around her shoulders and she rested her head on my chest. When she looked up at me, I leaned down to kiss her.

I had had zero expectations going into this, and it was turning out better than I could have imagined. The kissing led to making out, which lead to her asking me to spend the night. We snuggled and kissed in bed and I would have been satisfied with that, but when she climbed on top of me and straddled my hips, things got turned up another notch or two. Making out turned into really hot, passionate sex. All of it took me entirely by surprise.

Mainly I can't get over how random and weird things happened, like one minute I was whining over being single, and the next minute I meet an awesome girl. Frankly, the ease of it is a little unnerving. I know it should be easy when it's right, but I'm so used to drama and emotional rollercoasters with women. Don't get me wrong, though, it's definitely a very nice change. She so far seems pretty much a good match and I've been really pleased to discover all the things that I really like about her.

So the past week has been spent talking to MC, and after Sunday, we've been spending quite a bit of time together. I feel very comfortable with her and maybe a little amazed that she even likes my qualities that others might find annoying. We have a lot of common interests, so I'm very excited that I have a new partner in crime and someone to share experiences with. And, big plus, the sex is a perfect mixture of languor and hungry passion. I've alluded to my kinky side, which seems to intrigue and interest her, so with time, that will be fun to explore with her. I have so many huge, bruised bite marks all over my neck and shoulders.. while it doesn't look pretty, I have to say I love it. And I definitely loved getting the marks!

On My Mind

I have been wanting to write, but have found myself unable. There is too much to think about and it renders me speechless. I wish I had words eloquent enough to convey what is inside my head, how much I want her, what she does to me. Even now I struggle. Why do my thoughts and feelings still my tongue? Steal my voice? I know I don't say enough, I know that my silence says the opposite of what I feel. If only I could express that my silence is not the lack of speech, it is instead full of too much to say. Too many variables, so much possibility. So much that I want. Not having the words, not being able to speak or to release them into the world as objects of beauty... my invisible gag.

Music has been my solace; I find relief while submerged in a medium of fluid emotional expression. My thoughts beat against the confines of my skull like the wings of a caged bird. Soft but insistent, they seek release that is not forthcoming. It would be easier if I could tie strands of thought together, sort them, discover what they mean. Why am I finding it so difficult? How can I convey the depth my want, cleverly and poetically, as it deserves to be expressed?

It would be so much easier if she could read my mind..

Aural Sex

I've been talking to K online for a while, as we explore our attraction for each other. It's been titillating thus far, to say the least. I find her intriguing and exceptional in many ways and it has been a real pleasure getting to know her. It's not often that I come across someone that draws me the way she does, exciting me both mentally and physically. Not everyone can hold my interest in such a way, make me keep coming back, keep me eager to peel back their layers in order to find out what lies beneath.

We've begun to speak on the phone and it's difficult to describe how addictive I find her words and her voice. Part of me wants to play it cool, but I'm hopelessly unable. To begin with, I think she knows the power she holds over me and I think it would be safe to say she enjoys it. In addition, I think we mesh quite well in terms of sex and lust, and she seems to perceive the depths of my desires. I love being her audience, hearing her thoughts and fantasies. I'm aware of the deep currents that run beneath her surface; I want to plumb her depths, I want to find myself deep enough to be carried away by them. I want to know things that can't be asked, things I will have to find out through time.

I want to be her fantasy, to be whatever she wants. I want to turn her on, to please her, to give her anything she asks. I want her to ask, to demand things of me. I want to get her off, fuck her through the phone, make her want me. I like the fact that even our most intimate conversations are shrouded in mystery, that we don't know each other and probably never will. This is new territory and I relish all the possibilities that lie before us because reality is so far away. I'd be lying if I said I don't fantasize about finding her so I can throw her down and fuck her, to explain my passions without words. Yet, I love that because of the anonymity, she can hold me in her mind and see me however it turns her on the most. That I can be exactly who I want to be, without any of the inevitable judgement that comes with meeting and knowing each other. I guess, in a sense, after so much fantasy, I would be worried about not living up to her expectations. This is better than the worry. The lack of reality is appealing, in the sense that what we're doing is an escape from the ordinary. It's nice to have a place to go where none of the things that plague my daily life exist.

It's all difficult for me to describe because I still haven't figured it out for myself. It's different, and it brings up a host of things that I want to mull over and figure out. She knows she has me hooked, so I'm waiting to see what else she has in store. I know this is only the beginning and I am being patient, just letting it all unfold. She knows what I want, so now I can relax and work on giving her what she wants. I want her to know that I have few expectations. I simply want to see where things go, where she takes me. I want to know her better, find out all her deepest desires. She makes me think, at least when my mind isn't returning to the subject of her, replaying her words. I've been turned on for a week because of her gifted silver tongue. Her voice, her breathing, her excitement in my ear.. how could I think of anything else?

Surrendering

I have been thinking about control, why the true loss of it is my biggest turn-on, why I desire certain things. I have always wondered at what point I discovered and became interested in kink; I know I have always been attracted to powerful women, was it as early as my teens? What is it about power play that has always drawn me, both fascinated and aroused? I can't pinpoint the moment I realized that I wanted it, nor have I been able to explain why things like submission and being beaten have such a profound effect on me.

I think I've come to a conclusion about at least part of it. The secret lies in control. No matter the situation, even if I am willingly submitting to someone, I will give away all other pieces of myself long before I loosen my grip on my self-control. I keep myself so tightly wound, so tightly under control that it is very difficult for me to let go. It is deeply ingrained and I have it all down to where it comes as natural as breathing. I rarely surrender control without a fight; even when, in reality, I lose some, you would never know. I'm the kind of person that rarely gets to the point where it's obvious I'm intoxicated -- I may be, I may have even had several drinks, but I would never let it show... I'm the person you would want talking to the cops as they arrive to break up a night of bacchanalian revelry. I don't know the source of my drive, but control has always been a prominent theme in my life, and it has shaped me in numerous ways that make me who I am now. I have fought battles with all my being to maintain the control of myself and of my life.

Yet, I crave submission. Strong personalities attract me, maybe because I'm secretly hoping they will dominate me. I yearn and hunger for the blissful release of surrendering control to someone strong enough to take it completely. Someone who is perceptive enough to know I haven't given all I could, and who is determined to crack the vault in order to take my most valuable possession. It's more than being dominated, though. Domination alone is not enough; I need someone who recognizes what I crave and not only has the might, but also the desire, to topple all my inner fortifications in order to get to the core of me.

I've had BDSM experiences, but it only just occurred to me what I've felt missing in the past. None of them were strong enough to truly take control from me. I don't fault anyone, especially as some of them had no previous experience. I have have even eluded an experienced top. Until recently, I didn't even know what it was I needed, just that I felt somewhat unsatisfied. I have finally realized that there is usually a part of me I hold at a distance in a scene, unless the top is willing to really push me. It is not intentional and it is not something I can let go of consciously. There has to be some sort of catalyst; something to allow me to let go.

I knew I was searching for something and my dissatisfaction puzzled me. I realize now what my deepest desire is. Being topped or dominated is great -- I enjoy it, don't get me wrong -- but it is not enough. I need to be pushed much further, to be harried, broken down, to have the control wrested from me with force. I do not relinquish it easily; I need to be broken.

It's difficult to translate my thoughts and feelings about my desire into words. My craving is intense and insatiable. I live each day with this desire quietly burning away in a secret alcove within my core. Waiting, yearning for the next moment I am taken completely. For the person strong, determined, and understanding enough to be my guide and companion on the path to my limits and perhaps beyond. For the someone who is energized and challenged by the knowledge of the kind of fight that lies in store for them if they continue to push. Someone who loves being the catalyst for my tears, because they recognize the source and meaning of my needs. I dream of someone who wants to conquer me as much, or more, than my need to fight it. And, at the same time, equal to my thirst to be entirely conquered.

I could live without the pain, the humiliation, the power play, but that part of me will never die. I would always want it. I love the trappings of power play, but there's more to it than simply submitting or being spanked. My body's reaction is immediate when it comes to even a brief thought on the subject. My fantasies are, of course, quite rich, full of all my deepest wants. I hold out hope that I'll get to experience that of which I dream nightly. That I'll find someone who knows my need because they have a complementary one of their own. That I'll be able to again experience the intensity of being wholly owned and powerless. The moment I lose everything is deeply freeing. To have nothing left, to have given everything I am.

That is my want.

On the Couch

AP is the butchest girl I have dated so far. We were together for about six months in a fairly casual relationship, in that while we enjoyed the company and the sex, both of us knew we weren't going to end up together forever and ever. It has been a year or so since we "broke up", even though we continued to have sex until the end of last year. We are still close friends and she says she doesn't think she's that butch, but compared to my previous lovers, she definitely is. Admittedly, she has qualities that soften her edges, so she is decidedly nowhere near stone butch or diesel dyke.

It was a new experience for me, because for whatever reason, I seem to attract girls who are either more femme or at about the same level of in-between tomboy as I am. Before AP, I'd never been the girlier one in a relationship. It was new, different, and I discovered that I found her masculinity really hot. She was good at a lot of traditionally male things, i.e. technical and mechanical -- she even made me a paddle! -- but also enjoyed cooking and baking. Watching her do something stereotypically male was such an incredible turn-on, to the point where sometimes I would have to mill around and watch her, just to revel in how much I wanted to fuck her at that moment. She wasn't always the most forthcoming with her feelings, sometimes to the point of confusing me, but she always showed me how much she cared for me through her actions. Much like men do, rather than talk about it, she would instead work on my car or something else equally practical, in order to surprise me and make me feel special.

She introduced me to the pleasure of wearing men's underwear (the briefs not only turned me on, they are really comfy), which I'm not sure I could pull off regularly, but on her it was very hot. The sex was pretty damn good, too.. Not only did she own her cock in such an amazing way, she was the first girl I'd ever been with that was able to female ejaculate. That, too, took some getting used to, but I have to say that it was so fucking hot to have her on top, working herself on my cock, and then as she rode out her orgasm, to feel her hot come streaming over me.

She lives at the equivalent of Grand Central Station, with the phone ringing constantly and family coming and going, so one afternoon when we found ourselves with a quiet and empty house, she turned to me to ask if I wanted to make out. We were sitting on her couch, and of course I said yes. She then stated that she wanted to fuck me, and I think I groaned my assent. As I said earlier, she was damn good with her cock.

She got up, locked the doors, then went into her bedroom to get ready. I lounged a bit on the couch as I waited, but I didn't remove any clothing. The mere thought of her fucking me was enough to have me soaking wet already, and when she came back with her hard dick evident in her pants, I could hardly take it.

She frowned at me. "Why do you still have your pants on?" she asked in a stern voice.

"I want you to take them off for me," I replied breathily.

She stood next to the couch, gazing down at me, her hand coming down to rub the hard cock tenting her pants through the fabric. She gave me a look and, maintaining eye contact with her, I reached down and unfastened my pants. She bent slightly to take the waistband in her hands and, with little fanfare, pulled the pants over my hips and then off my legs, dropping them on the floor beside the couch. I was soaking wet and my body buzzed with desire. I felt a throb between my legs as she began to undo her pants.

"With my panties on," I said in a soft voice.

She stopped briefly to look at me, then replied as she pulled out her cock, "Of course," as if she had intended it all along.

I had my left leg up and stretched across the couch, and my right leg was bent with my foot on the floor. Cock in hand, she stepped toward me, between my legs. As she moved between my thighs, she pushed my right leg with her foot, parting me wider. I settled back and opened myself to her as much as I could. She leaned down and began to cover me with her body, her stomach and breasts grazing mine as she found my lips for a kiss. I kissed her hungrily, biting and sucking at her bottom lip, my desire nearly unbearable. I felt her hand move down the length of my body, her fingers slowing as they reached my mound. I lifted my hips to meet her as she cupped me with her hand and pressed gently, eliciting a moan from me.

I could feel her fingers travel lower and, the next thing I knew, she pushed the crotch of my panties aside and the head of her cock was inside me. I groaned pleadingly, and she was inside me with her next thrust. I threw one arm around her neck, clutching at her as she fucked me. I arched and drew my left leg around her, pulling her closer. I lifted my hips to meet hers, revelling in the ecstacy of her cock filling and emptying me in a steady rhythm. She hovered over me with her face close to mine, her breathing ragged as she talked to me.

"You are so fucking wet.. you needed to be fucked, didn't you?"

Her words left me dizzy with desire and nearly unable to speak. "Oh my god, yeah.." I let out in a breathless rush.

"You're such a little slut.. so fucking wet.. you needed my cock. Take it.."

All I could do is whimper in reply. She slowly removed her body from mine and then sat on the couch. "Get on top," she said.

I moved onto my knees and straddled her, positioning myself above her lap. I sat back on her legs, her cock nestled along my wet length. I put my arms around her and leaned in for a passionate kiss. I leaned back slightly and kissed my way down her face, along her jawline, to her ear. "You are so fucking hot," I whispered as I leaned up against her to push aside my panties and position her cock with my hand.

I let out a deep groan as she slid in with no resistance and filled me easily. Being on top isn't usually my favorite position, but it was absolutely amazing this time. I think it was due to the couch's angle and the large head on the cock (for stimulating the G-spot), but whatever the reason, I was being stimulated in all the right spots. Her hands roamed my body as I rode her cock, gripping the shaft with my pussy on every upstroke. It felt so fucking good.. I was totally lost in the pleasure. I answered her with groans and whimpers as she talked dirty to me. And then, all of a sudden, I was coming.

Really. With no warning whatsoever, I exploded. The only way to describe it is to say that it was by far the best orgasm I have had in my entire life. I came so hard that I screamed.. so loudly that my throat was hoarse later. I couldn't help it; it was incredibly intense and seemed to be interminable (not that I was complaining). I clutched at AP, whose hands gripped me as rode her cock. She continued to talk to me, telling me to come for her, expressing her desire. I came forever, the longest orgasm in the history of Earth. Even when the intensity faded, it was deliriously pleasurable to keep gripping and fucking the hard cock. My arms around her, my head on her shoulder, unable to stop moaning. I continued to move myself on her as the waves abated, gradually slowing to a stop.

I was unable to move, so I stayed on her lap with her cock inside me. We held each other as I leaned against her to recover. "Oh my god," I gasped every now and then.

This experience has been masturbation fodder recently, so I thought I'd share.

Honesty

Something I've been thinking about lately is the whole personal ad thing. Of course I have them on various sites, because I'm terminally single and frustrated that I can't seem to meet anyone at all in this town. Maybe I'm unlucky, but the ads never seem to bring about much of substance.

Anyway, in all my futile endeavors, the theme of honesty has come up consistently. I'm equally repulsed and amused by what passes for personal ads, or rather I should say how people sometimes try to pass themselves off in the ads. What kills me is the bizarre phenomenon of inverse attraction of the women who choose usernames like "hotsexybabe6969" and "sexycutie4u". So this, amongst other things, makes me wonder where honesty plays into the game. When is it okay to be less-than honest? Is it okay at all? Is it all right to sort of soften the edges a little bit to make yourself more appealing?

Though I personally avoid dishonesty, sometimes it's not only inevitable, it's the wise decision. I don't advocate big lies about important things, but at times I feel it's needed for saving face or avoiding hurting people's feelings. I'm a Do-As-You-Would-Have-Others-Do-Unto-You kind of girl, and on the other side of it, sometimes I want to be lied to. As much as I appreciate and endeavor toward honesty, the total truth all the time is a real bitch of a mistress -- both giving and receiving. I'm learning to not ask questions if there's an answer I don't want to hear, but I don't see it as a huge deal if it's a little lie about something insignificant to spare my feelings.

This ties into rejection, as well. I wonder about rejection protocol, so I'd like to do a little informal survey. Is it better to let the person know you're not interested (kindly, of course) or to not respond at all? I ask because I personally prefer to not get a rejection letter in the interest of sparing my feelings, but some people seem to like sending them. See, if I don't hear back, I forget about responding in the first place; if they answer with a rejection note, I'm not only reminded that I wrote them, but that they're not interested for whatever reason. I might add that most of the replies I get seem like excuses rather than the truth, but that could just be my wounded ego talking. So, I'd like your opinions on which method you would most appreciate if you were the recipient of the rejection.

In other news, your beloved author shrivels in her sexual drought, goes to live on until she's 70, and becomes the neighborhood Crazy Cat Lady.

Tao of Steve

I confess, I am not a ladykiller. In fact, even being a woman does not give me any particular insight into the female psyche. When I meet someone I really like, I tend to be overly excited and impatient for things to move forward -- something I've learned to be a recipe for scaring the girl off. Not only that, I have a tendency towards self-deprecation, which is not good because women can smell insecurity and fear a mile away. I'm smart and observant enough about myself to realize what I'm doing wrong, so this year I've been on sort of a quest to do things differently. I figure what I've been doing hasn't been working for me thus far, so as an experiment, I have been making a concerted effort to chill out and relax -- or to at least appear cool and confident.

I have a friend, AB, who is a ladykiller, despite the fact that he's pretty much an average guy. He's cute and a bit overweight, but not what most women would call "hot", so his skills with women have me really impressed. I mean, if he can do it, then I should be able to, right? I find myself seeking out his counsel when it comes to girls, and one of the things I love about him is he's the right balance of encouraging and advising. Plus he lets me tell him all the reasons why I think a girl might or might not be interested, and then tailors his advice toward my own personal brand of romantic ineptitude.

So AB and I were talking last night about this girl I just met, and I was filling him in on the evening she and I spent together. This girl is pretty hot and wicked smart, and I really like her, though I've been trying to rein myself in and be patient because I totally have the potential to screw it up. The problem at this point is I have no idea if she just wants to hang out platonically, or if there's a possibility for more. AB listened and advised, as he does so well, and then asked if I'd ever seen the movie Tao of Steve.

I hadn't heard of it, so AB explained the premise of the movie and the three principles. I don't want to tout it as an absolute truth, but it makes a lot of sense. So I thought I'd pass it along..

Rule 1 of the Tao of Steve:
Eliminate your desires. If you're out with a girl and you're thinking about getting laid, you're finished. A woman can smell an agenda.

Rule 2 of the Tao of Steve:
You have to do something excellent in her presence, therefore proving your sexual worthiness.

Rule 3 of the Tao of Steve:
After you eliminate desire, and after you've proved your excellence, you must retreat.

Now, of course these rules don't work all the time and every situation is different, but I think there's something to it. AB broke it down by rule; Rule 1 isn't just about sexual desire. It can relate to any sort of desire, such as if you're not happy with yourself or your life. You should feel content with who you are and where you are in life, even being completely single. In my mind, this is very similar to old cliches like "you never find love when you're looking for it" and "unless you love yourself, no one else will love you". Girls seem to like confidence and people who are comfortable with themselves. In addition, Rule 1 ties into Rule 3, in that being overly interested appears to be a turn-off to girls, so eliminate that desire and just act like yourself.

The example in the movie for Rule 2: a guy and the girl he likes are walking past a schoolyard. The two see a kid getting picked on in a dodgeball game, and the guy runs in and not only rescues the kid, but sticks around for a little while to help teach him how to play better. The idea here is not to do something crazy or out there to get attention, but that you should do something to make yourself stand out in the girl's mind.

Rule 3 is spot-on in my opinion. No matter how much I or anyone else hates games, the fact of the matter is that the whole romantic courtship thing is a game. Think about it, you talk to your friends and get advice as to what to do, you wonder if you should call, make a move, etc. The way AB described it, it has to do with the whole pursuit thing. It's all right to pursue up to a point, but too much is a definite way to scare a girl off (touché). Part of it is maintaining an aura of mystery and making the girl wonder if you like her, part of it has to do with power play. I don't know if I can explain this as well as AB did, but if you call too much or give too much of your attention, the girl might think she's superior and can do better because you're chasing her. If you don't overwhelm her with calls and/or your attentions, the roles are reversed; she might get the impression that you could do better and begin a pursuit of her own. Keep 'em wanting more.

When it comes to the rules, it may be that the girl doesn't even consciously think any of this stuff, but my experiences tell me there is something to it. Of course none of this is perfect for every situation, and I can already hear the scoffing, but I tell you what... AB has no problem with the ladies. I told him last night that I am drafting him to be my own personal Hitch. Incidentally, apparently Hitch is based on Tao of Steve.

The List

I was reading group hug the other day, and one of the confessions was penned by a fellow who had discovered his girlfriend's list of sex partners. It numbered 19, but unfortunately for him, he was number 18. He concluded with, "And why would anyone keep a list?!?"

The truth is, I keep a list. I'd never thought much about it, and reading the guy's question made me wonder. Is it weird to keep a list?

See, I never set out saying, "Gee, I need to start a list of my sex partners." It began with a purity test a few years ago, as a way to count how many people I'd slept with. Yes, they are numerous enough that I couldn't keep track otherwise. I happened to write the list in a notebook, so every now and then I come across it and add any missing names. Maybe it's weird that I like to keep track, but I blame it entirely on my shitty memory and my love of lists. I also can't decide if it's bad that I'm fine with my number (18). I'm not even sure how I got that big of a number.. I mean, it certainly doesn't feel like a lot. It would, however, be so much more if I could ever get laid!

It's not all about the number, of course. I'm not hung up on it or on a quest to elongate my list -- I'm just an oversexed girl who wants to get some. Some people act a little shocked when they find out my number, others don't seem impressed at all, so I can't figure out if I should be ashamed at being such a slut or if I should embrace my studliness. I also am not obsessed with my list, in that I don't rush to add someone's name after a tryst. In fact, if I'm dating the person, I wait until the relationship is over to add them. Adding names while still involved with someone strikes me as rather tacky. Besides, my memory isn't so bad that I can't remember who I've slept with in the past couple of years.

As a slight aside, I recently read an article about the average number of sex partners for men and women. I wish I could remember where I found the article because it was quite interesting. Based on their survey, I am definitely above average for women, and somewhat above the average for men.

So... Does anyone else keep a list, or is it weird? How many partners have you had? Come on, 'fess up!

Nameless Erotica

I have to share a wonderful little gem I discovered this evening, Nameless Erotica*, a blog of brilliant concept that contains some of the hottest and best writing I've ever read. I'm truly wowed by the writer's creativity and writing ability. I think I might be just a little bit in love.




*Nameless Erotica has sadly been deleted since this post, but thanks to the wonders of the internet, you can still read it here, just takes a bit more effort.

No, Not Gone For Good

The past few months have been crazy and I thoroughly apologize to having to drop my duties here in order to attend to real life. The good news is that I have a couple of weeks free before my life will start getting busy again, and I finally got internet at home. Hopefully I'll have internet here for good, although I already hate my ISP with a passion, so we'll see how it pans out. I do sincerely appreciate the emails and comments that were sent while on my sabbatical, so thanks.

I added a link to Pucker Up, the site of one of my favorite people on the planet, Tristan Taormino. No, I don't know her personally, but I certainly wish I did! I know I will mention Tristan in future posts, so I may as well introduce her now. Tristan is a woman after my own heart in a lot of respects; not only does she give sex advice, but she is basically the leading anal sex expert. I recently watched an episode of MTV Real Sex that featured one of her anal sex workshops, and the way she described herself about how she got to be the anal sex guru got me mulling over some things. I'm thinking of creating a sex advice column as a sister site to this blog, but I'm not sure whether there would be any demand for it. I'm considering it because people already come to me for advice on sensitive and personal matters, I consider myself pretty knowledgeable about sex (and resourceful enough to find the answers I don't know), and I am really unjudgemental, particularly where sexuality is concerned. Anyway, if anyone is interested in the idea (and maybe has a question to get it started), let me know.

Update

I know I have been terribly lax lately, and I apologize. I've been very busy, and not in an exciting or fun way. Just as a warning, the next few weeks are going to be equally as busy, and it's looking like I will have to take a one or two month hiatus from blogging. I'm going to be traveling quite a bit and I may be able to slip in an entry here and there, but overall, I honestly won't have much time for being online, other than checking my email. I hate when life gets in the way of my hobbies!

In addition, I've been feeling a bit uninspired lately as far as topics go, so if you have any suggestions or whatnot, feel free to comment or email me.

Schoolgirl Crushes

One of my regular readers, Satin_Jenni posted a comment to my previous entry and posed the following question. The answer is something I'd planned to discuss at some point, so while writing out a lengthy response, I figured I'd just post it.

Interesting how you were aware of your crush on a few selected individuals even back then. How did you progress to acting upon these crushes?

Ha.. well, the funny thing is, for the longest time, I was unable to see that my intense feelings for girls went far beyond your normal 'girl-crush'. I read a blog recently that theorized that even straight girls get girl-crushes. It's a combination of admiration, wanting to know them, and wanting to be them, and it strides that line that would cross over into romantic-crush territory.

The problem with me and my feelings is that in the moment, when I'm feeling them, I'm sort of blind to whatever it is. I can be depressed or angry, or even in love, and be feeling really crappy dealing with all the actual emotions, when all of a sudden it will hit me; "Oh! I'm depressed/angry/in love!" Once I realize what's going on, everything is crystal clear, it all clicks into place and makes far more sense than it did before. It also makes it much easier to deal with and sort out whatever it is. That probably sounds odd, and it's a bit weird to me that I can be in the middle of this swirling, hellish vortex of emotion and not be able to understand just what is going on with me. Sort of like not being able to see the forest for the trees, to use a cliche. But it's for this reason that it can sometimes take me a while to either figure it out, by attaching a label to it, or if I'm in denial (as I was about my sexuality), finally cop to what I'm really feeling.

Looking back, I realize I've had mad crushes on girls almost my entire life. My babysitter when I was 5, my camp counselors, friends, girls I knew at school, etc. Only then, either due to ignorance or my unwillingness to admit it wasn't "normal", I labeled it as different things. My crushes on older girls I chalked up to always having wanted an older sister. Peers, I chalked up to intense admiration and wishing I could be them. And while I'm sure there were elements of those things entwined in there, now that I'm older, I see that I had a lot of platonic relationships and friendships with girls I had romantic feelings for.

I don't know why it was such a struggle for me to admit I found women so much more attractive than men. I grew up in a highly liberal environment that is definitely a safe haven for gays. I knew tons of gay men, but unfortunately didn't know any lesbians until I got older and was only a couple of years away from coming out, myself. I know I was afraid of the label and what I thought it meant. So, for many years I suppressed, denied, and ignored my feelings for women. I even worked overtime to be straight, and for a while was what you might call "boy crazy". I realize, thinking about it now, that this time was full of angst, confusion, and even self-loathing, and it wasn't very fun. I remember trying to tell my male best friend I thought I was a lesbian, but purposefully bringing it up at inopportune times so that we wouldn't have a serious discussion about it.

The transition from crushing on girls from afar and acting upon it happened without any planning or decision to jump in, on my part. At about 18, I decided to try out the "bisexual" label, which I found an easier way to try on being okay with my strong attraction to girls. Because I was still terrified about what it all meant, I didn't take any steps to make it happen, but I was open to the possibility. That year, I didn't know it then, but I met the girl who would end up being my first love three years later.

I continued trying to date and sleep with men, but it confused me utterly when I found myself constantly wanting to run away from involvement with the guys. It just never felt right, and not only that, even after I lost my virginity to a good friend at 18 and began having sex flings somewhat regularly, I couldn't understand what the big deal was about sex. It was overrated, in my mind. Through all of this, I took no steps toward dating women, and it wasn't until I was nearly 21 that love basically bitch-slapped me out of nowhere. This girl and I were really good friends, had spent years being physically affectionate and even sleeping in the same bed when I came to visit, but both very much platonically, and after she broke up with her long-time boyfriend, we found ourselves falling hard for each other. At first, I thought I was imagining it, that it was all on my end, and I kept it to myself. But the mutual attraction and feelings were so strong that it all eventually came out, and we started dating.

She was my first love, and the first girl I was ever intimate with. I wouldn't say I ever did anything to act on my girl-crushes, mainly because I was so damn terrified about the whole thing. So basically the universe decided it was high time I woke the hell up, and dropped this girl right in my lap. With a huge bang, of course! And after sex and intimacy with her, even after the very first time, I got immediately just what had been missing in all my previous experiences with men. I understood what the big deal about sex was, finally. The answer was that I was having it with the wrong gender. ;)

The First, Part II

My first sexual experience was actually not long after Troy moved out from the condo above ours. In his place, a nice family that included a boy and his teenage sister, moved in. Peter was my age, 9 or 10, and we hit it off right away. Incidentally, I had THE BIGGEST CRUSH on his sister, Margot. Back then, I was a raging tomboy and had friends of both genders, though for a while, my best friends were boys. We could run around, ride our bikes, sword fight, skateboard, and do fun, typically boyish activities. Peter was my absolute best friend in the whole world. We spent vacations, trips, and all our free time together, usually at his house because he had the best toys; a Nintendo, Legos, and G.I. Joes. We may even have had a sleepover or two, but we were at that age when parents start having concerns about budding sexuality. Rightly so, it turns out.

I'm not entirely sure how it started, but Peter and I invented sex games that involved dry humping. I'm almost reticent to describe this as my first sexual experience, because despite it being a sexual activity, I don't think either of us knew much more than what we did felt good. There was never any nudity or orgasming, just one of us lying on top of the other and thrusting away. I wish I could remember what we called it. Sometimes we'd draw pictures of animals on my magnetic drawing board and then attempt to "do it" like that animal, which involved occasional doggy-style positions.

I've known about sex since my mom gave me a children's "How Babies Are Made Book" in second grade, but I'm not sure I truly connected what Peter and I did to sex. At least not more than in an abstract way. Both of us knew that what we were doing was "bad" and that we should do it in private or when our parents weren't around. We didn't do it all the time, but it was frequent enough that if I met him today, I would be supremely embarrassed. We did a pretty good job of not getting caught, although my mom did confront me once to ask what Peter and I were doing. Apparently she'd walked in on us, and instead of saying something at the time, or making us stop, she quietly slipped out and closed the door. My mom is pretty cool about a lot of things, and I'm grateful that she comes from the school that understands that sexual exploration between kids of that age is fairly innocent and not something to be freaked out about. I was so caught off-guard by her question that I flat out lied and denied everything. When she saw that I wasn't going to admit it or explain, she dropped it.

I can't remember if we ever stopped on our own, but my family ended up moving when I was about 11, and Peter and I drifted apart. We lived in the same city, but went to different schools.. he was a budding adolescent boy, I a girl.. you know how those things go. Later, when I hit my teens, I looked him up in the phone book and considered calling to catch up, but realized that I was far too embarrassed at our shared history of fooling around. I figured he might be, too, especially at that age.

For a few years after Peter, I experienced a hanky-panky drought. No fooling around with my girlfriends at sleepovers, no messing around with boys. Just masturbation, and lots of it. At 14 or 15, things started picking up again. I went on a few dates, and even made out with a boy in my room. The problem was that I went to a very small private high school, so the pickins were slim, in addition to it being the beginning of my struggle with being way more attracted to girls than boys. I fought the good fight until I was about 18, trying very hard to be straight.

My first "real" sexual encounter came when I was 15. SC was a cute, popular senior that on-and-off dated a popular girl (on whom I had a big crush), and he had previously never really given me the time of day. We were sitting in the lounge area of the library when he passed me a note that said, "I want to fuck you." Completely out of the blue, but it totally turned me on. We passed notes back and forth discussing the subject, I expressed interest back, and we talked about when and how we'd do it. Nothing concrete came of it that day, but he'd set my mind in motion.

A few days later, after I settled on a plan, I approached him and said, "I know where we can fuck." His interest piqued, he cocked his head at me and asked where. I told him, and a slow smile spread across his lips. He nodded and we agreed we'd meet there after school.

I almost lost my virginity in the school darkroom. There was virtually no one at school, and with the double door system, we would have some warning if someone tried to come in. It was a genius plan. By the time we made it there, I was scared and having second thoughts. I told him I wasn't sure I wanted to go all the way and that I was afraid. To his credit, he didn't act overly surprised or disappointed, and just told me I didn't have to do anything I didn't want to. He turned the lights out and sort of hugged me for a while, my head on his chest. The radio was on in the darkness and I will never forget that moment, being on the precipice of sex for the first time, being in this guy's arms, and hearing Rodney King say his famous line, "Can't we all just get along?"

I finally worked up the courage to lift my head so that SC could kiss me. We kissed for a while, and he took my hand and placed it on his crotch so that I could feel his hard cock through his shorts. I'd been reading and fantasizing for years, and somehow I knew exactly what to do. Even though it was my first time, it was never awkward for me. I rubbed his cock through his shorts, and he squeezed my breasts. His hands went under my shirt and undid my bra. His shorts came off, as did mine. I stroked his bare cock and he played with my nipples. I was so unbelievably turned on and wet.

I knelt in front of him and administered my first-ever blowjob. As I said previously, somehow I knew exactly what to do. I'd been thinking and fantasizing about it for what seemed like forever. With his hand in my hair, I licked and sucked at him, taking his cock in my mouth and bobbing my head to slip it in and out. At one point, he leaned down and said in my ear, "Are you sure you've never done this before?"

Because I didn't like the idea of him coming in my mouth, I stopped after a while and stood up. He pulled me close to him, placing the head of his cock against my pussy. We may have kissed some more, but what I remember is us thrusting our hips together, the soft skin and hardness of his cock stimulating my clit in just the right way. I held on to him and thrust my way to my first orgasm with another human being. I can't even describe just how fucking good and hot it was!

We weren't finished, though, and he lifted me up on the counter, placing our hips at the same level. He was really hard at this point, and I stroked him some more. He moved forward enough to place his cock against my pussy again, in the same way that felt so fucking good. He rubbed against me just right, slowly, getting me all worked up again. I felt his warm breath in my ear as he asked me if I wanted him to put it in. I was at the point of arousal where I would have done anything, and I wanted him in me more than life itself. I wanted to be fucked. While that part of me was screaming YES, the scared, inexperienced part of me wouldn't shut up. Not only was I not sure I wanted this to be my first time, I was too afraid or embarrassed to inquire about a condom. I knew well enough to not even think about sex without protection. Nowadays, I have no problem, but at that moment, I was too inexperienced to feel confident about asking. Plus, if he said yes, then I felt I was locked in. I wanted to beyond words, but did I really want to? So when he asked me if I wanted him to enter me, I had YES! in bright, bold letters in my head, but the word no came out of my mouth.

He continued thrusting, his cock sliding in my wet pussy folds and teasing my clit. I held on to him, wanting him in me so badly, still debating my decision. I found myself clutching at him, lost in pleasure, reaching the edge of climax, and then being pushed over again. Recounting this entire experience now gets me so wet. It was so hot.

We may have made out a bit longer, but it ended after that. I didn't know enough about how things worked to determine whether he'd gotten off or not, and it honestly was not my intention to leave him blue-balled after getting me off twice. A tease I am not, and never have been. If I could go back to that moment, I would have made sure he got his, too.

After that afternoon, things went back to normal between us. He hung out with his friends, I hung out with mine. There was never a repeat experience, although I offered once. That day, however, was masturbation fodder for years.

The First

I had my first open-mouth kiss when I was 9. Kind of funny story, actually. It was this boy, Troy, about my age who lived upstairs. I remember him being blond, blue-eyed, and adorable. I had a big crush on him. We became friends and one afternoon, we were upstairs at his house watching T.V. together. The Dukes of Hazzard came on, a show I can't stand now but loved back then. In the opening montage, there's a brief scene of one of the Hazzard guys kissing a woman. I turned to Troy and suggested we try kissing like that. The kissing was obviously very grown up, and therefore different and exotic.

As these things go, Troy agreed. I don't remember if his parents were home, but his little brother, probably about six years old, was. We had that innate knowledge that what we were about to do was private and probably not something adults would approve of, so we closed and locked the door. It's like his little brother had a locked door radar, because not long after, he came pounding and screaming to be let in. The doors in those condos could be unlocked by inserting a nail into the hole on the outside, pushing, and popping the lock out. His brother must have done this, because I remember having to put things in front of the door to keep him from coming in. Of course, the more we tried to keep him out, the more he wanted in. It was a huge fight of wills.

Somehow, amidst all the struggling to keep the door shut, we kissed. Our mouths met, open. It's funny to me because at that age, neither of us had the slightest clue about kissing that way, and that people generally use their tongues. I'm not sure, but I think if we'd known that, we probably would have been really grossed out. So the kiss was essentially us standing there, trying our best to emulate the kissing we'd seen on the show. Heads moving back and forth, mouths open and together, and our teeth mashing together painfully. I remember the teeth the most, that it hurt when we'd hit them together. When we pulled apart, we both were a little confused as to why that was supposed to have been so enjoyable. I doubt it occurred to either of us that maybe we weren't doing it correctly.

Not until I got into my 20's did I consider that my first kiss, probably because there's somewhat of an obsession with kissing throughout puberty. I didn't count it because there'd been no tongue, which, in my young mind, properly defined a "real" kiss.

In 7th grade, everyone I knew was overly preoccupied with being kissed, myself included. I was not a popular kid, and finding a kissing partner wasn't easy. I zeroed in on the geekiest, most unpopular kid in my class, who was so awkward and out of place on so many levels that even teachers would sort of pick on him. I figured if I asked him to kiss me, there was no way he'd say no. I remember him always having a runny nose and I thought he was gross, but I wanted to get it over with. So one day, I cornered him and asked him to meet me after school to kiss. He agreed, as I figured he would. I didn't want anyone to know I was stooping to that low of a level, lest I be made fun of any more than I already was, so we arranged a somewhat secluded meeting spot.

We did meet after school, but nothing ever happened. I didn't really want to kiss him, because, well, he was gross, and though I tried, I couldn't pressure or bully him into making the move. He was geeky, shy, and chicken. I remember thinking that if he wouldn't kiss me, and after all I was doing him a favor, right?, that I was doomed. Some time later that year, another one of the school misfits, an 8th grader, showed an interest in me and started hanging out with me in the cafeteria. I had another glimmer of hope, even though, again, I wasn't all that into him.

I used to ride my bike home from school, and one afternoon at the bike racks, I ran into this guy. We talked, and he ended up kind of following me home. On the walk home with him, he asked if he could be my boyfriend. I was 11, so laugh all you want. I said yes, thinking surely this meant I'd have my first kiss now! We ended up hanging out at my house for a while, where he met my parents (thinking back on this guy, I have to wonder what my dad thought of him). Then we went outside to "walk", which was of course code for "find a private place to kiss". We walked across the way where it was dark, and stood next to the cinderblock wall that marked the perimeter of the apartment complex.

What happened next was nothing short of pure, romantic magic. I jest, of course. It's somewhat comedic in kind of an embarrassing way. I was leaning against the wall while talking to him, and he asked me something like, "So you like it up against the wall, huh?" What the hell does that mean, anyway? But I was a little turned on because I knew what was coming, and I said yes. He then put one hand on the wall behind me, leaned forward, and kissed me.

I'd like to say it was great, but I remember it was slimy and his mouth tasted like the Christmas candy he'd eaten at my house. When it was over, I was elated that I'd finally been kissed, and feeling rather awkward about having to deal with this big lunk who'd followed me home. We wandered around a bit more, and he kissed me two more times. Somewhere in there, he told me he loved me. I think even then, I knew it was bullshit, that he thought that's what he was supposed to say to a girl. Because it was dark, he ended up leaving for home not that long after, and I was left a mess of guilt, relief, confusion, disgust, and elation. I had to sit through dinner with my parents afterward and I'm surprised they didn't ask me what the hell was wrong with me.

I've been keeping diaries and journals since I was 8. I don't have a date on the entry after my first "real" kiss, but since I was 11 and it was near enough to Christmas to have candy out, I'll say it probably was early-to-mid November, 1988. I dug out the diary and here is my priceless entry regarding this momentous occasion:

Dear Diary,
I actually got a boyfriend! He asked me! He kissed me 3 times. French! I don't really like him. Only as a friend, though. I didn't like the kisses. They were so disgusting. I can imagine kissing a guy I like and liking it. I'm going to tell him that I don't want to kiss anymore. If he asks any questions, I'll tell him if he says that's what going out is about, than I'll break up. I'll have to write a note. I couldn't face him.

More reports later,
A

So there you have it. The saga of my first kiss(es). Fortunately, the whole kissing thing has since improved. Not only do I find myself kissing people I want to kiss, I like it ever so much more than I used to!

Veni, Vedi, Vici

So I took a road trip Friday night, and went to visit the Craigslist girl, KS. My gut feeling told me I should not take the chance, and just try to be patient until she came in to town. However, I had a very boring weekend ahead of me and I was horny as hell. I really should have listened to my instincts, because a long history of experience tells me they're usually right.

The drive was about four and a half hours in each direction. I got there at about quarter to midnight and when I first saw her, inwardly I said, "Damn." She looked like her photo, but immediately I could tell I'd gotten myself into somewhat of a jam. I didn't feel any chemistry toward her.

She's not unattractive, I just found myself not attracted to her. Ah, the mystery of chemistry and sparks...  sometimes there, sometimes not. In this case, there were several things that were unattractive to me.  I look back and kind of laugh because I'm ridiculous like a Seinfeld episode: I didn't like her walk, the way she talked, her hands, the overly intense way she stared into my eyes.

I didn't have much time to process this or figure out what to do or say. She pretty much jumped on me immediately, giving me a kiss in the middle of the street. I think where she lives, a cozy little college town, is a bit more liberal than where I live, but I felt really uncomfortable. I had a lot of thoughts going through my head; I wasn't attracted to her, I'd just driven almost five hours for this, what should I do? Like many situations I get myself into, I felt that it was too late to back out. I also honestly had no time to stop for a few moments and think about it. Within minutes, we were up in her apartment, and she pounced on me.

With the first real kiss, I knew I was in trouble. I felt nothing, it didn't turn me on at all. I decided I was going to just do it, after all it was just sex -- sex that I'd wanted and drove all that way for -- and I'd figure out some reason to drive back home the next day. Honestly, I hope I never find myself in this position again, it felt really awkward in addition to being somewhat boring. She was obviously very into me, and within minutes, she had her thigh between my legs and was rubbing and moaning. I was desperately trying to feel anything. Her ardor, instead of stoking mine, was somewhat off-putting.

We moved to the bed at my suggestion and I desperately hoped she'd turn out the light, which would have helped, but she kept it on. I thought about asking to turn it off, but as I was trying to spare feelings, I didn't want her realize just how much I wasn't into it. I even tried imagining I was with someone else, but it didn't work. We made out for a bit and I found myself responding as she played with and pinched my nipples. The only problem was that when we'd stop, or if there was a break between activities, I was back to feeling nothing again.

To make a long, painful story short, I sort of dove into it and worked at getting her off. She came about eight times before it was my turn. She told me she wanted to go down on me and I asked if she'd use my probe in my ass at the same time. I've been with a lot of selfish, impatient people, including the woman I was with for two years who wouldn't even consider going down on me after the 'honeymoon phase', and had never had an orgasm this way. I found there to be too much pressure to relax enough. I warned KS that I had never come that way, and told her to stop whenever she wanted.

One AMAZING and completely unexpected thing to come of this experience was that for the first time in my life, I had an orgasm while getting head! She fucked my ass with her finger, worked my clit with her mouth and tongue, and may have had a finger in my pussy. At a certain point, it was all so good that I couldn't really tell what she was doing anymore. I was way too focused on how good it felt, and then, much to my surprise, I felt the glimmer of an orgasm. She didn't show any sign of letting up, so I kept working my hips in time with her, wondering if I could get myself to the edge. I didn't want to say anything yet about the possible orgasm, lest I jinx myself and add pressure. She kept on a few more minutes, when I finally gasped, "I think I'm gonna come!" She moaned in response and kept going. For one disappointing moment, I thought I'd lost it, but then I got it back. And then some.

I had one arm bent back behind me, clutching at the pillow, and the other hand in her hair. I don't know if I was so wet I was dripping, but her finger in my ass felt so much wetter than it did when she started. It slid in and out so nicely, she alternated slow movements and fucking me kind of hard with it. I worked my hips against her fingers and mouth, and when I found myself there, I let myself go. God, it was so fucking good! I rode it out loudly, I totally didn't want it to end.

At that point, it was 2:30 am, and I was pretty wiped, a combination of the drive, the time, and the sex, so I joked that I felt like a guy at the moment, all ready to roll over and go to sleep.

In the morning, it was very awkward, but I joined her and her roommate at the restaurant downstairs for brunch and then tried to extricate myself in the most polite and unhurtful way possible.  All else aside, she will forever reside in the annals of memory for this particular 'first'!

I'm In Lust

My foray into Craigslist took a turn for the surprisingly good. After the fiasco I posted about, I received a reply to my ad from a girl who could very well be my sexual twin. I didn't want to get my hopes up prematurely, and was waiting to see how things panned out before I mentioned it here. I think things have progressed to the point where I can gush a little.

She is fucking hot and I can't get over it. Really cute, extremely smart, and we are more sexually compatible than I could have ever dreamt or wished. She's totally open and open-minded, experimental, into kink and rough sex. She's experienced and knows what she likes. We've been emailing each other for a little over a week, and once we exchanged pictures to establish a mutual attraction, our conversations progressed into a discussion of sex. I can't even describe how amazed I've been at how well our tastes and likes mesh. We've been teasing each other through email, writing passages with the sole purpose of getting panties wet. I love how frank she is, and the things she's talked about have gotten me so turned on.

In my last email, I suggested we talk on the phone because I was dying to hear her voice, and she heartily agreed. She wrote me back with her number and I called her at about 9 pm, it's now midnight and I just got off the phone. We had a great conversation about general things and I believe we mutually found each other to be easy to talk to, which is, of course, a big plus. The conversation gradually made its way to sex, sort of toeing the line and then dancing away into general stuff again. We were teasing each other, dropping phrases like, "I want to eat you while you're sitting on my couch" in the middle of an otherwise ordinary conversation. She said simply talking to me, hearing my voice, made her wet. I found myself getting wet too, and once we found ourselves discussing what really turns us on, I mentioned it to her.

Listening to her, I started touching myself through my boxers. "God, I'm so wet right now."
"Do you want to do something about that?" she asked slyly.
"Yes.. would you?" I replied.
"Mmmm.. absolutely. Talk to me." I could hear her starting to touch herself.

I love phone sex. I'm a very auditory person, plus hearing my partner's excitement and getting off totally does it for me. I moved to my bed, and she told me she wanted me to do something for her. "I want you to take your shirt off. I want you to pinch your nipples really hard for me, pull on them, and imagine it's my mouth. If I was there, I would be biting and pinching them, licking them across the tops."

I did as she asked, and my nipples were hard and pulsing with feeling. She told me how she wanted to lick and tease my pussy while fucking my ass with her fingers. She asked if I wanted to come for her, and I said not yet. I wanted to talk to her first, to hear her get off. Much to my delight, she's rather orgasmic, so after only a few minutes of describing what I'd start off doing, she graced me with a hot and beautiful-sounding orgasm. I love the sound of a woman coming in my ear!

I take a little bit longer, and while I rubbed my clit for her, she told me many different things she wanted to do. I told her I was so wet I could hear it. She is so fucking hot and I wanted to come for her so badly. I apologized for taking so long, but she told me not to worry because she was loving hearing me get off. I finally reached the edge and had an amazing orgasm. When I finished, I was covered in sweat and couldn't stop panting and moaning. She sounded like she was getting off just hearing me, and said that I make incredible noises.

"Who knew that phone sex is so hard when you're really attracted to someone??" she laughed.
I laughed back and asked, "What, you usually have phone sex with people you're not attracted to?"
She chuckled a little and replied, "Well, I was a phone sex operator for a few weeks, at one point.."

We talked a little about that, though I was still recovering and there was quite a bit of "God, you're so fucking sexy". Before we said goodbye, I gave her my number and told her to call whenever she wanted. Sounds like we may have another phone date on Friday.

She lives about four hours away, but will be moving to my area in a couple of months. She has a trip planned in a couple of weekends to come here and look for an apartment, so we will definitely be getting together for some pure, no-holds-barred fucking. I can't wait, and neither can she. The attraction is so strong that one of us may make a trip before her planned visit.

Thinking

I want to talk about my orgasm earlier. As I mentioned in my first post, masturbation is practically a hobby for me. I came home for lunch and after eating, I decided to self-indulge a little. I think what I miss most about not having sex, aside from the experience of touching skin and getting to enjoy hearing someone else get off, is penetration. When I'm by myself, it's not the same as having someone on top of me, or having them really pound or fuck me hard. It's been a few months since I last got laid, but longer than that since I actually got fucked. Lately, I've been really craving it, which is part of why I was even considering that threesome.

When I masturbate, I'm often kind of lazy about it. I usually opt for the quickest method, which is stupid, because as I reminded myself today, being lazy robs me of some really good orgasms. I laid down on my bed, on my stomach, and started to go about things in my usual manner. I kept thinking about how much I wanted a cock inside me, and finally opened my nightstand to get out my dildo. I was still being lazy, so I used this method I've developed which involves inserting the cock, lying on my stomach, and using my closed legs to rest the end of the dildo on. The motion of my thrusting moves it in and out enough for me to get some sensation, plus there's the feeling of being full.

To really use a cock, though, requires that I be wet enough. When I'm on my own, I may get really turned on, but not be very wet until I've actually finished. So what I usually do is play around until I know I'm soaked, and then grab the dildo. I had limited time this afternoon to build up to that point, so I used a bit of KY jelly on the cock to get things started. I am definitely a KY jelly girl, especially when it comes to anal play. I personally like my lubrication to stay where I put it. I then slowly penetrated myself and it went in sooooo nice. I'd almost forgotten just how good that feels, to be entered.

I flipped over onto my stomach, but that feeling stuck with me and I knew I was missing out. So I turned back over onto my back, and started fucking myself in earnest. Slow at first, then hard and fast. I think the reason I like it so rough is that being pounded stimulates my G-spot as well as allows some physical contact with my clit. I reached back into the nightstand and got out my vibrator, and worked both my pussy and my clit at the same time. SO FUCKING GOOD. It's been a while since I masturbated that way, so long that again, I'd almost forgotten just how good it is. I was feeling a little pressured to come, so I made myself relax and just enjoy the sensations. At a certain point, it's hard to tell the different things apart; where the sliding penetration begins and where the clit teasing ends. It all blends together into ecstacy. I varied everything because it felt so damn good, how fast I moved the cock, where I applied the vibrator. Eventually, the tip of the vibrator settled against the cock, so I could feel it inside me as I worked myself.

Originally, my fantasy had been solely the image of someone above me, entering me. As I got more into it, I stopped concentrating and just let myself feel. Being wet turns me on and makes me even more wet, so the feeling of the dildo sliding easily in and out really pushed me toward the edge. I bent my knees and rested my feet on the mattress, working my hips against both toys. It was so amazing that I couldn't help moaning and whimpering. And then the next thing I knew, I was there and pushed over the edge of climax. I rode the waves and it was long and very intense. I never stopped, I kept going until the last pulse in my pussy was finished. It was so drawn out and intense that it felt like I came for five minutes.

I know I said it was GOOD, but fuck.. it was great, awesome, amazing... the best orgasm I've had in a long time, for sure. Such a good one that I had to share. And to make a mental note to myself to work it on my back MUCH more often!

Lust

I was thinking last night about lust and what it can drive a person to do or go through. If you're a breathing human being, you probably know what I'm talking about. Lust is an incredibly powerful emotion and can cause a person to do things that, once sated, they regret. This can be sticking out a crappy relationship because the sex is awesome, cheating on a partner, or simply being so horny you sleep with someone you never would ordinarily. Being the lust-driven girl that I am, I'm definitely guilty of this, myself. I'm an incredibly loyal friend and girlfriend and have never cheated on a partner, but I have definitely been a slave to lust in the other situations I mentioned.

At a previous job, I had a flirty relationship with a coworker. I was still relatively new, hadn't gotten laid in a while, and started thinking that maybe I should take advantage of the opportunity. People who exude sexuality attract me in ways that defy logic, they appeal to a primal part of me that is very difficult to ignore. This guy was no exception, plus I enjoyed the attention and found it flattering. Unfortunately, because I was still new, I didn't have the kind of insight that I did later; which is to say, if I'd waited and got to know him better, I absolutely would not have fucked this guy.

He wasn't a bad guy, but later his personality really began to rub me the wrong way. He was a huge spaz at work when he got stressed or worked up about something, and simply would not let things go. One night he flipped out at me over something small and spent hours, literally until the end of the shift, making snide, underhanded comments behind my back and whenever I walked by, he swore at me, and at one point stepped up to me like he was going to hit me. Shit like that made me absolutely regret having had sex with him, plus we'd agreed to keep our tryst private, and I would fear that he'd try to get back at me by telling everyone. I think the only reason he didn't is that I knew a key piece of very intimate, sensitive information about him that I'm sure he didn't want the entire workplace to know.

He had a very small penis. Now, penis size itself is another post entirely, but what I'm talking about here is more than your average small dick. It was so small it was practically non-existent, and I'm not exaggerating or being mean. I swear to you it was about half an inch to an inch, at most. We never talked about it in medical terms, but I'm almost positive he had a micropenis. In fact, he had to wear an extension to have sex. I doubt he had ever actually been inside a woman, and I felt a great deal of pity for the guy. I mean, with guys, a lot of their self-esteem seems tied into the size of their penis, and can you imagine having to share a locker room with other guys when your dangly bit is the size of an infant's?

Anyway, a bunch of us from work went out one Saturday and got nicely drunk. This guy came onto me, and I did sleep with him. Out of sensitivity, I didn't feel like I could say no after he dropped his pants. I spent the next year and half wishing I could go back and change the moment where I agreed. Every time I saw him, I couldn't help but think about having fucked him, and it kind of made me sick. Why did I? How could I? Lust, I'm telling you.

I had a horrendous relationship with a girl that was addictive and beyond fucked up. At the time, I thought I was in love with her, but even then I did wonder why it didn't feel the same as when I'd been in love before. Later I realized that while I loved her in some twisted way, I was not in love and what I'd been feeling was pure lust. I was addicted to the sex, and so I would put up with all the shit she dealt me on a daily basis. I look back on that relationship with disdain, and disbelief that I put up with her mental fuckwittage for that long. My self-esteem was then at an all-time low, mainly due to how she set it up and treated me, and I found myself using sex with her to prove to myself that I was attractive and desirable. Toward the end of the relationship, she read my journal and added some comments in there, and since she didn't like what I'd had to say, she decided to sexually cut me off forever. I was a little crushed at the time, but it turns out this was really the best thing that could have happened. I was an addict, she was my dealer, and I needed the cold-turkey slap in the face to wake me up. It was much easier to move on and get out after this.

If I were a guy, I would definitely be accused of thinking with my dick. I'm such a pussy-chaser and if there's a possibility of getting some, particularly if there's alcohol involved, I go against my normal logic and pursue it. This drive is such a separate, powerful part of me that I have a name for it: The Beast. It doesn't take much to turn me on, and cause The Beast to stir. But once The Beast is fully awake, it's a 'look out' situation, because it drives me to lengths I would never consider otherwise. When The Beast awakens, it doesn't care for pleasantries, relationships, or rational thought. All it wants is to be satisfied, and satisfied now. I have been in situations where before starting to make out with someone, we've agreed to not have sex. And then after a lot of teasing and playing around, The Beast takes over, and the previous agreement is out the window. I've blatantly come on to women under the influence of The Beast, something I rarely, if ever, do.

The Beast has definitely gotten me into trouble. When it's in control, I can only vaguely think of any reasons why not to continue, and even then I honestly don't care. It's a powerful force, one that often beats me into submission. It causes me to ignore red flags, to pursue people that I would be much better off simply leaving alone.

Lust is incredible. Look at how it affects most humans, how it drives them to do things in passion that their rational selves would reject. They cheat on wonderful partners, get themselves neck-deep in drama, even agree to not use protection when they otherwise should. Most people want to ignore or reject the idea that humans are just as much animals as any other vertebrate species on the planet, yet when it comes down to it, we have very much the same basic needs and instincts. Sex is unbelievably powerful, and our drive to pursue it is one of the reasons our species has not only succeeded, but become one of the most prolific. A very basic instinct, indeed.

Group Love

The other day I responded to an ad advertising some no-strings-attached sex. The author claims to be a virgin, and what can I say, I have some 'teacher' fantasies. Not roleplaying a teacher, but being the older, more experienced guide for someone who wants to learn. I'm experienced, understanding, and non-judgmental, so I figure I'm a good candidate. The response I got sort of surprised me -- I was invited to participate in a threesome with the advertiser's brother and female best friend.

Now, the threesome thing isn't shocking to me. Once you learn a bit more about me, you will find that very little shocks me, particularly in the sexual world. I love new experiences and I have probably tried more things than I haven't. It's simply that in replying to this particular ad, this was the last thing I expected.

So let's talk about the old menage-a-trois. I have done the threesome thing. Twice, in fact, with a heterosexual couple. The two of them were in their early 20's, had been dating for several months, and possessed both curiosity and a healthy sexual appetite. The guy, E, had a voracious libido and a rather sexually dominant personality, both of which really turned me on. The girl, A, was shy and much harder to figure out. They both were attractive, so no issue there. After meeting, having dinner, and playing an ice-breaking game of Twister (fully-clothed, alas), we dimmed the lights and got down to business.

E was probably the best male fuck I've ever had. A, on the other hand, either was too shy or not into it enough. She obviously enjoyed what E did to her, but when it came to me, she clammed up. I went down on her the first time for 45 minutes, and got absolutely no response. No moans, no squirming, I don't even remember any heavy breathing. I'm not the kind of person who likes to do anything, much less sex, in a vacuum, so after trying my hardest to elicit some sort of reaction from A, I finally gave up. The next time we all met, and frankly I was a little surprised there was a second time, given what I'd perceived to be A's dislike or discomfort of the situation, E pulled me aside and asked, "Can you tell me what you did when you went down on A? She's never gotten off that way and she was really close to coming."

My reaction after blinking at him in disbelief, "She was??" Hard to believe, considering I might as well have been licking a refrigerator, for all the response I got.

Maybe things would have been different if there had been a warmer response from A in general. In between the threesomes, I got together to hang out with E, who had gotten poison oak on his penis, from having sex with A on a hike in the middle of the woods. Kinda funny, but poor guy. And he was such a horndog that he wasn't able to stop jerking off, so healing was much slower than normal. We ended up masturbating together, but didn't go any farther due to his promise to A that he wouldn't touch me.

The second threesome was good, but thanks only to E. He was just so hot and we were totally sexually compatible. And coming from a girl who vastly prefers women over men, that's saying a lot. He liked to fuck hard and rough, liked giving orders and directing activities, talking really dirty, and he was very passionately sexual. But A just so wasn't into it, and I could tell she had some issues with me. I don't know if she was jealous when it was my turn or what, but I just got the vibe from her that these occurrences would be ending shortly. And sure enough, not long after the second time, E called me to say that A didn't feel comfortable with things continuing. Not a surprise, and as I had no ulterior designs on either of them, it was fine with me.

After that, I said to myself that I'd tried it and probably wouldn't do it again. Though... I've always wanted to do an all-chick threesome, but with my luck lately, I'm not holding my breath. It just wasn't as satisfying to me as one-on-one sex is. I don't know whether it was the circumstances, A's reluctance or shyness, or that I simply prefer having the focus be solely on me and one other person.

I was originally considering saying yes to this newly proposed threesome. For one, I haven't had sex in a few months and I'm horny as hell. Plus, I have a new sex blog and it certainly would make for interesting fodder. But the more I think about it, I just don't think I want to.