Saturday, December 19, 2009

Where Do You Fall?

The Georgia Nicolson series by Louise Rennison is probably one of my favorite book series (behind Harry Potter, of course and duh). The first book is called Angus, Thongs, and Full-Frontal Snogging. I think I'm a little behind, but the books I do own have me in stitches. Again, it's probably the British dry-humor thing. Anyway, the plucky (is there any other kind?) heroine, Georgia, is a little boy-crazy and spends the majority of the series trying to wrangle, maintain, and enjoy the attention of Robbie, who she names the Sex God. I heart her. Of the hilarious lingo and phrases in the book, which I've used myself--"life and soul of the party," for example--the one I love is the "Snogging Scale," kind of a girl's take on rounding the bases. For laughs:

1) holding hands
2) arm around
3) good-night kiss
4) kiss lasting over three minutes without a breath
5) open-mouth kissing
6) tongues
6.5) ear snogging
7) upper body fondling--outdoors
8) upper body fondling--indoors (in bed)
9) below waist activity (b.w.a)
10) the full monty

We should do a psychological version of it, i.e., meeting the parents, spending the night, give him the last piece of cake, etc. But other than that, is the list accurate? Leave anything out? Anything out of order?

Huh. I have never strolled down the street hand-in-hand with a boy, but I sure have dabbled in the six and above territory. What does that mean? How tarty of me...

Friday, December 18, 2009

I Bet He's the Smitten One This Time

Coming home for holiday break came at the best and worst time. Best because it's Christmas and worst because I'm missing about five games with NBA team. Ugh, I can't even think about it because I'm so worried about making a good impression at this internship and it's really easy to fuck things up. So yeah, there's that.

But also, I can't help but think I dodged a bullet with Que (if you haven't guessed he's the one from the party). Before any of it happened, we had a very teasing relationship. Afterward, I resumed the teasing as usual, maybe a little more than usual to protect myself/not give anything away. On my last day, he sat in the passenger seat of my car and said that I act differently when it's just the two of us. It seemed like he was trying to get me to admit to feelings or something, but I was stressed and cranky and I couldn't be bothered to giving an inch.

"I'm going home to take a nap."

"Want me to come take a nap with you?"

I did, but I didn't know how to ask without feeling stupid. He said he'd call me after he got a haircut but he didn't.

One thing I've realized is that I have walls up when it comes to men, both inside and out.

First I think it's because I don't trust men romantically. When you hang around and work with guys as much as I do you see the cavalier attitude with which they treat women. Not to say that all guys are liars even though they ARE, but I definitely recognize the need for a thick skin.

Also, and a little more based off of my experience, it just takes me a long time to admit to having feelings because I'm always the one with the hopeless crush, the unrequited love. Friends would always make jokes about me being totally smitten and call me thirsty with a hint of desperate. And that takes a lot out of a girl, ya know? The affair with The Smoker left me kind of scarred as well, showed me the downside of giving too much, investing too much in a boy. Once bitten, right? So I need the guy to jump first. In Que's case (whether I have feelings for him or not other than lusty ones), I feel like he's trying to case the situation and see if I'm going to slip up and say "Uncle!" to the tune of "Yes I have feelings for you," or, probably more accurately "Yes I can't stop thinking about that night come over and let's make lurrrrrrvveeee." Aha! That's what triggered his frustration in the car, methinks, when I said if he came over there would be no actual, technical, fucking.

Because as he got out of the car he said, "You know the deal. You know I want you."

Color me perplexed. I almost yelled "What do you mean 'want'? You want to sleep with me? You want to really, like, date me because I have won you over with my glasses and humor and gossipy ways? WHAT?" But I didn't want to be that shrew who over-analyzes everything. Even though in this case I should have been.

Seeing everything all spelled out like this makes me think, eh, it was a one TWO time thing and we're better off being friends/coworkers/partners in crime. Who maybe fool around occasionally? NO. But damn it's been a long time since I've had some nookie...I mean, once I get back maybe we could...NO. Right?

Saturday, December 12, 2009

Of course...

The thoughts have rolled in...

They made out in a freezing parking lot, his bold hands cupping her ass, her shoulders nestled against his chest, underneath his coat.

"What are we going to do?" she sighed against his neck. "It doesn't matter. You don't want me. I'm fraught with issues..."

"I don't care." He teasingly, urgently thrust his hardness against her clothes softness and watched her eyes flutter. "I can't wait to fuck you..."

We're not going to sleep together (well, not technically, I suppose. We'll see...). Tomorrow I leave Southern state for holiday break. Uncomplicated is key. He has a harem of women. I'm waiting until I get in a real relationship.

But my bed still smells of him...

Wednesday, December 9, 2009

The Party

She took the cup out of his hand and tipped up his drooping chin, her eyes twinkling with liquor-tinged mirth.

"Come on," she whispered, magically audible over the pulsing music. "You can have the spare bedroom."

He nodded, his heavy-lidded eyes barely focused on her...

a minute later

"Technically we're in bed together," she giggled, her knees almost touching his reclined chest. His hand snaked lazily up her back, and she didn't mind.

a minute later

"We're fine, we're just talking, see you in a second."

She closed the door on her inquiring friend and scampered back to the bed. After barely a pause, she slid a knee over his hard waist, her position granting his hands rein under a soft shirt and over silky thighs and warm stomach. She enjoyed the perch, feeling his barely-contained lust pulsate beneath her. But with awakening lust came a twinge of conscience.

"We work together," she sighed, trying to detract his hands. He stopped her, reclining and linking her fingers in his. His supine position urged her to grind her hips lazily against him. Loving his pained expression and his tortured grip tightening, she giggled again as she mimicked the act of love.

Veiled with the heady power of seduction, she sought to tempt him even more. She wanted to know; sweetly demanded him to tell her how he thought about her, how she made him feel, how badly he wanted her right here, right now...

"I watch those legs..." "You're so fucking sexy..." "Come here..."

His words alone sent hot waves of sensation coursing through her body, even though the back of her mind forbade her to give in. He rose up to kiss her, but she pushed him back down.

"We can't. Oh, we can't..." He broke away from her desire-loosened grip and finally overpowered her. Her supple neck beckoned his hungry mouth, and he answered it greedily.

She whimpered his name, defeated, her legs anchoring around his torso as desire wound her core tighter and tighter.

Her reaction aroused, but didn't surprise him. He'd always suspected a fire smoldering under her sophisticated charm, and he wanted nothing more than to stroke that fire into explosion. Emboldened, he nuzzled out of his way the delicate necklace lying between her breasts and inhaled her sweetness, almost tasting her accelerating heartbeat.

"Oh, my God," she murmured. Murmurs became gasps as his mouth moved closer to the tight bud...

Someone knocked on the bedroom door, the sound ripping through the silence like a fist busting through glass.

Running her hands through her mussed hair, she took a deep breath. "Ye--yes?"

a minute later

She locked the front door of her house after the last of the party guests, then tiptoed through the house and back upstairs into the spare room's bright lights. Walking over to him, she tugged at his shirt, beckoning him to her own dimly-lit bedroom.

"Come on..."

Monday, December 7, 2009

I'm Coming

Metaphorically speaking.

Finals week is upon me, and I'm afraid fun and smutty writing will have to take a backseat to the many, many pages of academic writing that must be completed.

But my intended smut will be worth it! Well, I hope. I've never (intentionally) written a post like the one I want to write. Partly because I wouldn't have much to write about (dry spell. Well, dry life), my private nature, and the idea of writing about dirty times scaring/embarrassing me a little. So we'll see, shall we? I'll probably enjoy it because that would mean I'd have to recount every delicious detail of what happened. For the sake of the writing of course. The wondering and the afterthoughts and the need for advice will probably follow (you know me), but first we'll focus on the good...