All Aboard The U.S.S.FAILURE: An Introduction, and a Story.
This journal is going to be part diary, and part sex chronicle. It will be confessional, clandestine, silly, ugly, angsty, amusing, and possibly sexy, by turns. Maybe it'll even be funny. It will also probably not be in any kind of chronological order whatsoever, but you'll figure it out eventually. Let's kick this thing off with a story from a couple of weekends ago, shall we?
When Taylor kissed me, everything came to a screeching halt, including that nice tingle of anticipation I'd been feeling. You know the one. The one where you just know that the sexual tension you have with a particular person will continue to go unfulfilled, but the intense flirtation makes it worth it anyway. Almost instantly, there was a Civil War raging front and center. The argument went something like this:
Logical Brain: "Hold the phone for a second! Don't you find it a little bit odd that this is the same guy who refused to kiss you last year when you wanted to hook up? Y'know, the same guy who didn't want to kiss anyone he wasn't emotionally attached to? Something's a little off here. You should probably be on your guard."
Reptilian Brain: "WHOOOOO SEX."
Guess which side won out?
In retrospect, I should have known that this was too good to be true. That the universe was out to punish me, for whatever reason. However, I was distracted at the time by suddenly having a lapful of sexy (and slightly crazy) French-Canadian man, who was turning out to be a rather good kisser. A little background, for those just joining the party: Taylor is a bit taller than me and lanky, with extremely long, curly hair that he claims to be the one part of his French heritage that he can stand. He also wears glasses and has a slightly crooked nose, both of which happen to be weaknesses of mine, and override the fact that he's obsessed with war and weaponry. Normally, that sort of thing is off-putting, but his hand was already up my shirt and he made cute noises when I nibbled his earlobe, so I thought, "Ah, hell with it." So, we continued making out on the couch, blissfully uncaring of the fact that it was three-thirty in the morning. However, we agreed that bumping uglies on said couch might be a bad idea, seeing as how it might wake some of the residents up and neither of us actually attended Coe. The appearance of the Head of Security tends to put a damper on things, after all. So, we paused briefly in our activities to consider the other options.
"Wanna go back to my place?" He asked after a moment. I raised an eyebrow at him.
"Don't you still live with your parents?" He shrugged.
"It's cool. They won't care. They'll just ask if I used a condom." I considered this for all of half a second.
"Alright, let's go."
I crept back into Felicia's room to grab my shoes and leave her a note explaining my absence for when she woke up (although, the creeping about was probably unnecessary, seeing as this was all transpiring the night of her 21st birthday and she was so far gone when she passed out that World War III occurring right at that moment would have elicited nothing more than a snort from her). With this, Taylor and I left Murray and drove the fifteen minutes back to his house. We listened to Muse, but that really has no relevance to anything else, other than the fact that the song "Time Is Running Out" makes me horny. There was the requisite fumbling around in the dark as we made our way down to his room, but we managed to make it to the bed without tripping over anything. Before I sat down, though, he stopped me so he could turn on the light.
"Oh, and if you feel anything hard under one of the pillows that ISN'T my penis, that's one of my knives. Just toss it on the ground."
"...knife. Right."
At this point, I began to reconsider agreeing to the whole thing, but then he started kissing me again and hands started going very nice places, so I just threw the knife aside and promptly forgot all about it. At least, until we came to the second roadblock of the night, when he attacked me with Nipple Nibblers. For those who aren't aware of what that is, it's a strawberry-flavored substance that one puts on one's nipples and other tender bits, and it causes numbing and tingling (and arousal... at least, in theory). The sensation on my nipples was fine... a bit tingly, but fine. However, putting it on my clit caused it to feel like I was ON FIRE, and I let him know that this was not appreciated in the appropriate, ladylike manner that the situation dictated.
"MOTHERFUCKER, THAT WAS NOT COOL." Grabbing the jar, I then proceeded to apply a liberal amount to his dick, figuring that all's fair in love and war, or at least in getting even with the smug bastard who just put the sexual equivalent of Icy Hot on your girly bits. He didn't seem to mind, however; at least, until his erection decided to pull a Puxatawny Phil and head back down for six more weeks of winter. We both stared down at his lap, and then at each other, and then down again. It could have been in the preview for a new comedy series, called "Where In The World Did Your Erection Go?" So, diligently, I went to work on getting it back. As much as he seemed to be enjoying the blowjob (and damnit, I pride myself on my ability to give decent head, at the very least, for either gender), nothing was happening. This was quickly becoming less fun and more frustrating, but gamely, I stuck with it. Finally, sensing that nothing was happening, Taylor whipped out his other surprise of the night: a bullet vibrator and some lemon-flavored lube. This cheered me right up, as I do love a man who's secure enough to want to use toys in bed. And thus commenced my first orgasm of the night, which was both awesome and surprising (his vibrator was a lot stronger than mine).
As I curled up on my side to recover (damn my sensitivity!), I heard him chuckle, and looked up blearily to see that he had now managed to get hard enough to put on the condom. When he said he had a big dick, he wasn't kidding. I almost asked if he'd ever clubbed anyone to death with it.
"Well, that was amusing," he chirped, still stroking, and my jaw dropped.
"You know, 'amusing' is not what someone wants to hear about their O-face." Jackass, I added mentally.
"No, I meant 'arousing'. See, I'm hard." He gestured needlessly towards his crotch. "They mean the same thing to me sometimes."
"See, I don't speak your language," I reminded him, and grabbed the lube. "Now, let's get this show on the road."
So, sex was achieved. For about ten minutes. Three of those were him ever-so-slowly penetrating and me trying not to make noises like a cat caught in a washing machine during the initial discomfort. I'm a small woman, see... short and somewhat compact, especially in my nether regions. Someone trying to shove something massive all up in my guts (pardon the colloquialism) all at once is equivalent to a St. Bernard trying to come in the catflap. It is not going to work. However, we finally managed to get all settled, and got down to some fucking. And it actually wasn't bad. Unfortunately, this didn't last. When I went to get on top, his erection was gone... again. I growled and attempted with another handjob, to no avail. Taylor shook his head and laughed a little, looking a tad bit sheepish.
"Sorry... I guess it's just nerves."
"And those Nipple Nibblers," I added. "Sorry about that." He groaned and fell backwards onto the bed.
"I feel like a total loser right now."
"No, no. Don't. Really. It's just... mitigating circumstances." I patted his shoulder. An awkward moment passed, and then he offered me the vibrator from where it had fallen by the side of the bed.
"Wanna go for round two?"
And so, the night/morning ended with me having two orgasms, him having none, and both of us feeling like failures in at least one respect. But at least the nap was good, and I woke up feeling somewhat accomplished... at least, until I had the following conversation with Chelsea:
"So, how was sex with Taylor?"
"Oh, it was fine. He just had some... issues."
"He was probably just nervous. Most people losing their virginity are."
"...excuse me, what?"
And that was when I learned that just when you think things can't get more awkward, they can.
When Taylor kissed me, everything came to a screeching halt, including that nice tingle of anticipation I'd been feeling. You know the one. The one where you just know that the sexual tension you have with a particular person will continue to go unfulfilled, but the intense flirtation makes it worth it anyway. Almost instantly, there was a Civil War raging front and center. The argument went something like this:
Logical Brain: "Hold the phone for a second! Don't you find it a little bit odd that this is the same guy who refused to kiss you last year when you wanted to hook up? Y'know, the same guy who didn't want to kiss anyone he wasn't emotionally attached to? Something's a little off here. You should probably be on your guard."
Reptilian Brain: "WHOOOOO SEX."
Guess which side won out?
In retrospect, I should have known that this was too good to be true. That the universe was out to punish me, for whatever reason. However, I was distracted at the time by suddenly having a lapful of sexy (and slightly crazy) French-Canadian man, who was turning out to be a rather good kisser. A little background, for those just joining the party: Taylor is a bit taller than me and lanky, with extremely long, curly hair that he claims to be the one part of his French heritage that he can stand. He also wears glasses and has a slightly crooked nose, both of which happen to be weaknesses of mine, and override the fact that he's obsessed with war and weaponry. Normally, that sort of thing is off-putting, but his hand was already up my shirt and he made cute noises when I nibbled his earlobe, so I thought, "Ah, hell with it." So, we continued making out on the couch, blissfully uncaring of the fact that it was three-thirty in the morning. However, we agreed that bumping uglies on said couch might be a bad idea, seeing as how it might wake some of the residents up and neither of us actually attended Coe. The appearance of the Head of Security tends to put a damper on things, after all. So, we paused briefly in our activities to consider the other options.
"Wanna go back to my place?" He asked after a moment. I raised an eyebrow at him.
"Don't you still live with your parents?" He shrugged.
"It's cool. They won't care. They'll just ask if I used a condom." I considered this for all of half a second.
"Alright, let's go."
I crept back into Felicia's room to grab my shoes and leave her a note explaining my absence for when she woke up (although, the creeping about was probably unnecessary, seeing as this was all transpiring the night of her 21st birthday and she was so far gone when she passed out that World War III occurring right at that moment would have elicited nothing more than a snort from her). With this, Taylor and I left Murray and drove the fifteen minutes back to his house. We listened to Muse, but that really has no relevance to anything else, other than the fact that the song "Time Is Running Out" makes me horny. There was the requisite fumbling around in the dark as we made our way down to his room, but we managed to make it to the bed without tripping over anything. Before I sat down, though, he stopped me so he could turn on the light.
"Oh, and if you feel anything hard under one of the pillows that ISN'T my penis, that's one of my knives. Just toss it on the ground."
"...knife. Right."
At this point, I began to reconsider agreeing to the whole thing, but then he started kissing me again and hands started going very nice places, so I just threw the knife aside and promptly forgot all about it. At least, until we came to the second roadblock of the night, when he attacked me with Nipple Nibblers. For those who aren't aware of what that is, it's a strawberry-flavored substance that one puts on one's nipples and other tender bits, and it causes numbing and tingling (and arousal... at least, in theory). The sensation on my nipples was fine... a bit tingly, but fine. However, putting it on my clit caused it to feel like I was ON FIRE, and I let him know that this was not appreciated in the appropriate, ladylike manner that the situation dictated.
"MOTHERFUCKER, THAT WAS NOT COOL." Grabbing the jar, I then proceeded to apply a liberal amount to his dick, figuring that all's fair in love and war, or at least in getting even with the smug bastard who just put the sexual equivalent of Icy Hot on your girly bits. He didn't seem to mind, however; at least, until his erection decided to pull a Puxatawny Phil and head back down for six more weeks of winter. We both stared down at his lap, and then at each other, and then down again. It could have been in the preview for a new comedy series, called "Where In The World Did Your Erection Go?" So, diligently, I went to work on getting it back. As much as he seemed to be enjoying the blowjob (and damnit, I pride myself on my ability to give decent head, at the very least, for either gender), nothing was happening. This was quickly becoming less fun and more frustrating, but gamely, I stuck with it. Finally, sensing that nothing was happening, Taylor whipped out his other surprise of the night: a bullet vibrator and some lemon-flavored lube. This cheered me right up, as I do love a man who's secure enough to want to use toys in bed. And thus commenced my first orgasm of the night, which was both awesome and surprising (his vibrator was a lot stronger than mine).
As I curled up on my side to recover (damn my sensitivity!), I heard him chuckle, and looked up blearily to see that he had now managed to get hard enough to put on the condom. When he said he had a big dick, he wasn't kidding. I almost asked if he'd ever clubbed anyone to death with it.
"Well, that was amusing," he chirped, still stroking, and my jaw dropped.
"You know, 'amusing' is not what someone wants to hear about their O-face." Jackass, I added mentally.
"No, I meant 'arousing'. See, I'm hard." He gestured needlessly towards his crotch. "They mean the same thing to me sometimes."
"See, I don't speak your language," I reminded him, and grabbed the lube. "Now, let's get this show on the road."
So, sex was achieved. For about ten minutes. Three of those were him ever-so-slowly penetrating and me trying not to make noises like a cat caught in a washing machine during the initial discomfort. I'm a small woman, see... short and somewhat compact, especially in my nether regions. Someone trying to shove something massive all up in my guts (pardon the colloquialism) all at once is equivalent to a St. Bernard trying to come in the catflap. It is not going to work. However, we finally managed to get all settled, and got down to some fucking. And it actually wasn't bad. Unfortunately, this didn't last. When I went to get on top, his erection was gone... again. I growled and attempted with another handjob, to no avail. Taylor shook his head and laughed a little, looking a tad bit sheepish.
"Sorry... I guess it's just nerves."
"And those Nipple Nibblers," I added. "Sorry about that." He groaned and fell backwards onto the bed.
"I feel like a total loser right now."
"No, no. Don't. Really. It's just... mitigating circumstances." I patted his shoulder. An awkward moment passed, and then he offered me the vibrator from where it had fallen by the side of the bed.
"Wanna go for round two?"
And so, the night/morning ended with me having two orgasms, him having none, and both of us feeling like failures in at least one respect. But at least the nap was good, and I woke up feeling somewhat accomplished... at least, until I had the following conversation with Chelsea:
"So, how was sex with Taylor?"
"Oh, it was fine. He just had some... issues."
"He was probably just nervous. Most people losing their virginity are."
"...excuse me, what?"
And that was when I learned that just when you think things can't get more awkward, they can.