I have a confession to make, yall. It's been rolling around my head for a while, and I think it's time to talk about it because it's epically awesome in a slimy kind of way, the kind of shit you'd read about in shitty Young Adult novels or something, or what you'd see on the CW with snotty bitch-ass teens who have no responsibilities to keep them occupied and talk about sex and drugs all day.
So I said how I used to see MR R around, yes? That's true. And we DID run in diff circles so I never talked to him. But our circles happened to coincide a bit. Some years ago I made a friend with a total asshole of a guy who is actually pretty cute and nice once you get past the asshole bit. He became BFFs with Mr R also some years ago when they dormed and drugged together (those days are loooong past, thank you very much).
Me and cute asshole have been friends for like 7 years now, taking classes together, fighting, shooting each other the occasional email where I gave him advice about his foreign girlfriend. He's in training in the army now, because he's a bad-ass asshole who spits death in the face. So he comes home for a while every summer and hits me up, as he did last year, as he did this year.
We went out drinking, but before we went out, we stopped by Mr R's flat. (Now this was before the fireworks and the attempted BJ and the near-rape by Techno-dude.)
I thought Mr R was a weird quiet man and when we all hit the town together, I kept wanting to ditch him so me and cute asshole could be together "and actually have fun."
When we were alone for a while, cute asshole and me were talking about his girl friend, and how he was on the verge of breaking up with her. I encouraged him, as I didn't really care and she seemed like a total bitch.
We kept drinking, and drinking, and later MR R, me and cute asshole were eating at some dive bar and under the table, cute asshole was stroking my leg the entire time, up and down, up and down, but it was weird because I've always known him as my asshole friend and anyway, I worried about the chill in the air and how you know your leg hair starts growing whenever you get goosebumps? Yeah.
So for the next two days cute asshole stopped by my place and I kissed him lightly on the lips, but nothing more. I SWEAR! JESUS--YOU GUYS THINK THE WORST OF ME!
So he goes back down south to do more training, writing me periodically about how he broke up with his GF and likes the naughty lacy panties photo I shot for him. (I also took cleavage pics on his I-phone too)
Then me and Mr R started hanging out and you know about all that.
Just to reiterate, I kinda sorta helped break-up a faltering relationship to sorta begin dating my old asshole friend, whose best friend began hooking up with me.
Gasp!
Dismay!
Now me and cute asshole never had any sort of agreement. We saw each other twice under the pretense of "kinda dates", but that was all. The only real repercussion this could have is the photographic evidence, which I told Mr R about a long time ago under the guise that I had a crush on him even then and told cute asshole to send those photos Mr R's way. No, the only REAL repercussion this could possibly have is with Mr R's relationship with cute asshole. Mr R is a highly educated gentleman, very shy and reserved, and this friendship he has with cute asshole may be one of the only people he can truly call a best friend. (Besides me. Although you don't generally fuck your best friends, considering I treat him like another guy and we laugh and do dumb boy shit together all the time, I definitely consider us besties.)
I don't want to strain their relationship. I mean, cute asshole stopped writing me, but hasn't stopped contact with Mr R, and hopefully never will.
Mr R is getting very serious about me, yall; he's talking about marriage and the future and really, I saw him initially as maybe a good one night fuck or something along those lines. I just wanted to bone him and he had to start bringing in all these emotions and humanity to it. It's like you switch on the radio to Love Games/ Disco-Stick and it changes suddenly to something by Rachmaninoff. Or Chopin--because Mr R is a melancholy sort.
Oh and PS: cute asshole's girlfriend returned here to go to university and through Mr R I'm kinda friends with her now. Mad Mad world.
Showing posts with label Techno-dude. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Techno-dude. Show all posts
Friday, September 10, 2010
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Our beginning
I have never been with a man that refused a blowjob. Even in the early hours of daylight, when the sun is leaking through the oily clouds of the city outside a club, even the drunkest most exhausted men can get off. By me of course. While the fishnets under my knees get torn on alley garbage, motivated by lust, I aim to please. I'm not one to brag (yes I am) but I'm Jesus Christ of the dick. I will raise even the dead whiskey dick. Religious suppression makes girls go cra-zay in the sack, y'all.
That is until Mr R.
Mr R is a 6'4 half-Moroccan guy I knew vaguely from college. He's a bit older than me and we moved in different social circles, so I never took much notice of him before. Over a holiday weekend, Techno-dude--a skinny guy who got kicked out of Mexico (of all places) for having a violent outburst on a busy street while he was on acid and also wears blue-tinted glasses constantly to hide his lazy eye--invited me to hang out with him and Mr R. I knew Techno-dude from aforementioned college and did NOT know his outburst history at the time of our agreed meeting. So me and Mr R and Techno-dude hung out watching the parade, which with my tendencies, of course turned into a trip through the colourful streets of ticker-tape and streamers and confetti to the liquor store.
The men got scotch, the lady a bottle of gin. We sat in the park away from the parade and talked about music and education and got progressively drunker as the evening settled in purple streaks across the sky, the sinking sun glowing gold off the skyscrapers.
I was at the point of drinking where I offered to show my panties (pink lace, y'all, they were really cute) yet sober enough to know the evening was still too light to do such a thing out in public.
Mr R left to say hi to a friend with a promise to return. Now this wouldn't have been a problem, except he left us standing in a dark field on the edge of town and by now, Techno-dude had downed the ENTIRE bottle of scotch. Techno-dude quickly became Mr Grabby-Hands and I wasn't feeling it. But thanks to my mom I'm Asian so his gangly white ass quickly overpowered me, pulling me down into the field.
His fat tongue tasted like a truck-stop restroom, the kind you'd see on the news because they found a dead hooker curled around the toilet. I avoided rape by playing like I too was into him but was "on my period". Undeterred, he pressed on, shoving my shirt up, kissing down my stomach, literally grabbing my pussy in his ENTIRE hand like it was going to run away or something. I pushed his head away, and he retalliated by grabbing my wrists and slapping them against the ground on either sides of my head, so hard I could hear and feel the reverberation through my ears.
"How about I suck you off?" was my timid offer. Something in my voice (or maybe the voices in Techno-dude's head) made him hesitate. He eased off me, then grabbed onto a nearby chain-link fence to keep from staggering. He blubbered some apologies, and I waved it off as nothing because by now I just wanted to get home and wondered where the hell Mr R was. I smoothed my skirt down and tucked my hair behind my ears, and looked over Techno-dude's head for Mr R's silhouette in the streetlamps. Techno-dude must have figured out what I was doing, because he grabbed me again, roughly, and tried to pull me in to a kiss.
So I ran. In red spiky heels. I ran for a couple of blocks until I was in the middle of the city again, throwing glances over my shoulder as I went, but I don't think Techno-dude came after me.
You know when you run so fast and so hard that you taste copper in your burning throat and you can feel your heart-beat pulse through your temples? It was the only thing I could hear. My heartbeat, loud, pounding with my feet on the pavement, and I didn't hear the car.
Behind me was a loud scream of tires and I glanced back in time to see lights flash in my eyes. Oh great. Just what I need.
But the driver took a swift turn to avoid me, narrowly, and shouted out the window his observations of my ethnicity.
Well my heart was really in loops then. The world was greying in waves. Was it from the shock of what could have just happened or was I that drunk? I lowered my head and tried to steady my breathing. I groped out for the streetlamp and sunk down beside it. I could have died. I could have been raped. I had to pee.
"Kimmy--hey..." came a gentle voice. I felt large hot hands on my shoulders. I looked up through my scattered black hair to see a deeply concerned Mr R. Jesus fucking Christ are his eyes beautiful. He smoothed my hair back and crouched down beside me, inquiring as to my well-being. I muttered something about how I broke one of my heels in my flight, and he looked at it, then picked me up into his arms. Not like guys do that are going ot bang you, tossing you over their shoulder like a caveman (had that plently of times. Loves it), but like a dad does; he scooped me up all tenderly.
After he set me down under the trees, in the shadows I thanked him and hugged him, breathing in the hot scent of his neck. Then I moved to thank him with my mouth. I started to undo his zipper, and although he let me for a moment, he stopped me, gently grasping my hands and holding them. "Kim I don't do that until I feel really safe."
"Okay, let's go to the fountain then!" I suggested, always a good little slut. "The cops wont be around there this time of night."
"No Kim," he explained, quietly, "I mean, feel in a safe relationship with someone. It's nothing against you. I'm sorry. This is just me."
I sat back. I look ugly when I frown, but I was frowning then. Who cared, in the dark he couldn't really see me anyway. "Well then, we need to be in a relationship," I said.
"...Do we?"
"Yes."
Doesn't sound very romantic, does it? But this is how we began.
That is until Mr R.
Mr R is a 6'4 half-Moroccan guy I knew vaguely from college. He's a bit older than me and we moved in different social circles, so I never took much notice of him before. Over a holiday weekend, Techno-dude--a skinny guy who got kicked out of Mexico (of all places) for having a violent outburst on a busy street while he was on acid and also wears blue-tinted glasses constantly to hide his lazy eye--invited me to hang out with him and Mr R. I knew Techno-dude from aforementioned college and did NOT know his outburst history at the time of our agreed meeting. So me and Mr R and Techno-dude hung out watching the parade, which with my tendencies, of course turned into a trip through the colourful streets of ticker-tape and streamers and confetti to the liquor store.
The men got scotch, the lady a bottle of gin. We sat in the park away from the parade and talked about music and education and got progressively drunker as the evening settled in purple streaks across the sky, the sinking sun glowing gold off the skyscrapers.
I was at the point of drinking where I offered to show my panties (pink lace, y'all, they were really cute) yet sober enough to know the evening was still too light to do such a thing out in public.
Mr R left to say hi to a friend with a promise to return. Now this wouldn't have been a problem, except he left us standing in a dark field on the edge of town and by now, Techno-dude had downed the ENTIRE bottle of scotch. Techno-dude quickly became Mr Grabby-Hands and I wasn't feeling it. But thanks to my mom I'm Asian so his gangly white ass quickly overpowered me, pulling me down into the field.
His fat tongue tasted like a truck-stop restroom, the kind you'd see on the news because they found a dead hooker curled around the toilet. I avoided rape by playing like I too was into him but was "on my period". Undeterred, he pressed on, shoving my shirt up, kissing down my stomach, literally grabbing my pussy in his ENTIRE hand like it was going to run away or something. I pushed his head away, and he retalliated by grabbing my wrists and slapping them against the ground on either sides of my head, so hard I could hear and feel the reverberation through my ears.
"How about I suck you off?" was my timid offer. Something in my voice (or maybe the voices in Techno-dude's head) made him hesitate. He eased off me, then grabbed onto a nearby chain-link fence to keep from staggering. He blubbered some apologies, and I waved it off as nothing because by now I just wanted to get home and wondered where the hell Mr R was. I smoothed my skirt down and tucked my hair behind my ears, and looked over Techno-dude's head for Mr R's silhouette in the streetlamps. Techno-dude must have figured out what I was doing, because he grabbed me again, roughly, and tried to pull me in to a kiss.
So I ran. In red spiky heels. I ran for a couple of blocks until I was in the middle of the city again, throwing glances over my shoulder as I went, but I don't think Techno-dude came after me.
You know when you run so fast and so hard that you taste copper in your burning throat and you can feel your heart-beat pulse through your temples? It was the only thing I could hear. My heartbeat, loud, pounding with my feet on the pavement, and I didn't hear the car.
Behind me was a loud scream of tires and I glanced back in time to see lights flash in my eyes. Oh great. Just what I need.
But the driver took a swift turn to avoid me, narrowly, and shouted out the window his observations of my ethnicity.
Well my heart was really in loops then. The world was greying in waves. Was it from the shock of what could have just happened or was I that drunk? I lowered my head and tried to steady my breathing. I groped out for the streetlamp and sunk down beside it. I could have died. I could have been raped. I had to pee.
"Kimmy--hey..." came a gentle voice. I felt large hot hands on my shoulders. I looked up through my scattered black hair to see a deeply concerned Mr R. Jesus fucking Christ are his eyes beautiful. He smoothed my hair back and crouched down beside me, inquiring as to my well-being. I muttered something about how I broke one of my heels in my flight, and he looked at it, then picked me up into his arms. Not like guys do that are going ot bang you, tossing you over their shoulder like a caveman (had that plently of times. Loves it), but like a dad does; he scooped me up all tenderly.
After he set me down under the trees, in the shadows I thanked him and hugged him, breathing in the hot scent of his neck. Then I moved to thank him with my mouth. I started to undo his zipper, and although he let me for a moment, he stopped me, gently grasping my hands and holding them. "Kim I don't do that until I feel really safe."
"Okay, let's go to the fountain then!" I suggested, always a good little slut. "The cops wont be around there this time of night."
"No Kim," he explained, quietly, "I mean, feel in a safe relationship with someone. It's nothing against you. I'm sorry. This is just me."
I sat back. I look ugly when I frown, but I was frowning then. Who cared, in the dark he couldn't really see me anyway. "Well then, we need to be in a relationship," I said.
"...Do we?"
"Yes."
Doesn't sound very romantic, does it? But this is how we began.
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