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.