All that is
I'm prone to short, but very intense bouts of infatuation. My current one being a cfo of some sort. like i don't just want the person, no, i REALLY want them. it's worrying at times.
So the em has been away on business for the past couple of days, which has been a relief. the office is calmer, my stress levels have decreased, all is ok. But i don't think she likes me very much to be honest. i think she thinks i'm odd, and probably really doesn't like the way i tense up around her. but i really can't help it. i've tried. up to the point of thinking (or over-thinking) of what it is i'm going to say to her when i see her etc. I avoid going to her for things unless i absolutely have to. it feels like its been ages since we've spoken, which is a relief but also slightly worrying. I feel like i've really carved out a place for myself there that may not serve me in my best interest, now and i may need to leave. I tell myself that its just a survival mechanism and at a different company, i'd be different, and that this is only my first stop, so i'm still finding my feet. i hope i'll prove myself right.
I had a new lover recently, lasted for about a week or 2. he's a bbc reporter (no surprise there) and notorious sex fiend. I watch a vid of him last night, presenting one of his bbc shows and he was so well spoken, so well ordered and presented. and actually the show was filmed the morning after the last time we saw each other. and i thought, my goodness, i know what you were up to last night, you dirty bastard!
when i saw him at kk, i knew he wanted me, and i knew he knew i wanted him. which was a bit irritating at the time, but a bit of a turn on too. we'd exchanged gazes. and i kept going past him subtly (or trying to be), to try and start something. but no luck. but we finally found each other in the same room, where an outrageous orgy was taking place. I glanced at him, he looked at me, hard. then came up to me, my body language must have been more open than i realised and the started touching me. his hand felt my chest, my neck, then he put his finger inside my mouth, i bit it. then he brought his face close to mine and brushed his mouth against it slightly teasing. at this point i was helpless. then he pulled away and said he had to go and get his girlfriend as she had to like me first. earlier on in the evening, whilst wandering about, i came across a little steam room right at the very back of the jacuzzi house - it was small and secluded from the rest of the spaces, with a stretcher-bed like thing attached to the wall, with red lighting. like a photography dark room. it was just sexy. I thought of how exciting it would be to lead someone (girl or man) into this room, completely undisturbed, lock the door, and just fuck. It was a turn on just thinking about it at the time.
So i hung around for about 7 mins while he went off. a little irritated, but still. then he returned (without said girlfriend - i asked no questions), and i took his hand and did just what i had in mind. I led him to the very back, into the red-lit room and closed the door. we hadn't done anything yet, but the thought of what we were about to do, and where, was getting me off. we started to kiss, he pushed up against me, i sat on the stretcher and opened my legs, then he asked, to get on my knees. I did the right thing and he brought his hard-on out, and i took care of that. by this point, i'd gotten a reasonable measure of the kind of lover he was going to be. dominating, forceful, slightly abrasive. but i didn't anticipate how much. we were getting it on, him talking filthy and he'd slap me across my face. softly at first, then harder and harder. at one point i had to stop him, when he hit it especially hard - during, i just said "no!" and shoved his hand away. then he turned his sadistic attentions to my arse cheeks. whilst shagging i asked him his name and he breathed, "..simon". i knew he was lying because of the way he said it - it sounded foreign in his mouth, like it didn't belong to him, the way you say a word you've not used in a while. and also because of the split second pause before he uttered it. i asked no questions. so we carried on going for it but for some reason he couldn't come. then i just had to leave as it was getting to 4am. i suspected he was high, but he later told me the next day that he was a bit intoxicated. but i was so surprised at my own naughtiness - not that i hadn't done anything like it before, i have - but letting someone hit me, and not for my own pleasure, but solely for their own - was a different dimension of sex i'd never explored. A kind of self sacrificial sphere that is arousing for that reason alone - the fact that your pain is feeding someone's pleasure, which is both demoralising and exciting at once. also disconcerting because you ask - do i think this little of myself to allow someone to use me this way? but you find out that it's not about thinking little of yourself. i'm not your typical masochist - i enjoy submission, yes, but i'm not even sure i'd go as far as calling myself a masochist. masochists derive sexual pleasure out of being inflicted with pain during sex, etc. But instead what i find pleasurable, is watching, witnessing or FEELING that person become sexually aroused from inflicting this pain or discomfort. when i'm together with someone, what gives them genuine pleasure is what will turn me on. A guys dick, when its the right kind of hard, on the right kind of body with the right kind of face, is a uniquely erotic thing. the kind of arousal it causes is fucking primitive, i can't explain it. the way you respond to it is instinctual even the first time - the first time i ever touched a guys dick, i didn't tell my body to do what it did my mind wasn't exactly sexually developed then, but its like my body knew how to react. as if that part of your mind is part of your physical (not just your mental) makeup, the same way you're not taught how to walk or swallow your food or cover yourself when it's too cold. but a guys or girls pleasure strongly feeds my own especially if its caused by something deemed 'wrong' or unorthodox.
it was all intriguing, and despite feeling a little at odds with myself, i wanted it again. I dropped him a text the next morning telling him he's welcome to come to mine for the evening (brazen of me, i know!) - I'd settled some ground rules with myself beforehand of course and it wasn't difficult to stick to: only physical, he's not long term material, just sex.
so he replies asking if i liked having a big **** in my ****. then he says it felt a bit unfinished, and we agree to meet again that evening.
we eventually do, at his place in zone 2 on the bakerloo line. i say zone 2, but i might as well have been going to zone 6 the journey took so bleeding long.
he invited me in, gave me wine, we talked for a short while for the sake of formality more than anything, but also because we barely exchanged (and saw no need to exchange) sentences the previous night. then we stopped talking and started doing what we planned to do, in his kitchen. with him bending me over the counter, holding my head down and taking me from behind. we did it 2 more times, with the sexiest being the final episode where after touching me with his fingers for several minutes while lying on my back, and rubbing his hard-on on me where i love it to be rubbed, and knowing full well how evidently, madly turned on I was, he kneeled naked between my parted legs and asked me the most redundant but sexiest question and perhaps one of the most valuable contributions to my sexual vocab, to which i breathlessly (and rather politely) replied "yes please.." then i had to leave to catch the last train. (spending the entire night, I've decided, is not advisable for the woman in me).
I did find out what his name was - not simon. He's 28, jewish (sexy) aries, (no surprise there) but not my type for a long term match.
i enjoyed the convo at some points, he laughed easily, seemed like you could have fun with him and was easygoing - god was he gorgeous.
now back to my cfo i'm in love with. he's a harvard alumni, and looks just like it. I always gravitate to that sort - oxbridgmen, ivy leaguers, LSE-ists. I can spot them from a mile away without knowing consciously that that is their background. sometimes i'll start speaking to someone, and think - i quite like them.. then we'll talk about what school they went to, and they'll say cambridge (almost always recently) and i'll smile a knowing smile, and they'll ask why i'm smiling. But i never say.
anyway, found out he's in his late 30's. thought he was like 31-33, at the very oldest. so now i'm into that sort. haha love it. i don't have a type. i think every kind of look at some point in time has been my type (okay, not every type, i'm quite selective at times to the point of momentary shallowness) but usually, the person I become infatuated with, becomes a blue print for which to match other potential suitors to. And when the infatuation cools so does the taste i have in that 'look'. But for sure, one look that has never failed to and i'm sure will never fail to attract me, is the clean, refined, very classic european look.
New york, please.