Jizz and bruised backs
Ok, so I just had what was possibly the best sex in a LONG time. It was spontaneous, hot, sweaty, stripping-clothes-off-as-you-go with me on top, kind of sex. I can't remember ever having an orgasm that long. And it's definitely been awhile since it's been that overwhelming. Dave's convinced that he blasted jizz through my cervix it was so hard. I wouldn't doubt it either, since no amount of jumping is causing any to come out.
And only after, while detangling from the drenched blankets underneath, did I find out I forgot to take his shoes off. Ooops.
Seriously though, it's been a long time coming. I wouldn't say our sex life was boring, but it's definitely been lax. Between my stress and his lack thereof, and my family health issues and his family health issues, and with my bad back and then bad knee .. yeah. The mood has been pretty dismal.
Tonight was, essentially, the perfect night.
I did the school thing. First test, worth 18 marks. I'm figuring worst-case scenario I got 15/18, which is 83%. No worries. On the interesting side is that the professor approached my group and asked if one of us would work with this other group that's having problems running the software. He wanted the person the most comfortable with it. I find it ironic that apparently -I- am the most comfortable considering I've never actually used it, just told people what to do. Either way, I went with the new group and had fun. The one guy is worshipping me like the goddess I am [finally!], and the other just arrived from India too months ago, and doesn't appear to understand my sense of humor. They get confused easily too. Example:
him: My name is Vimbli.
me: Vinly?
him: No, Vimbli. Vee eye em bee elle eye.
me: Vimbi?
him: Vimbli.
me: Vimbli, ok. *saying over and over in head*
him: And you are Sara yes?
me: Yup.
him: Ess eh are eh.
me: No, Sarah with an h.
him: Oh, so you are Sara H? Is Sara your last name then?
me: Umm, no, first name. H is just an initial.
him: *confusion*
Ah yes, multicultural classes are fun. Apparently Muhammed isn't Muhammed either. He's Vimsay. They're crazy about those V's. He gave me his email. See? He appreciates me. Either way, I ended up tutoring THREE groups through the software. The professor seemed to appreciate it since he's usually overworked himself. I think at this point I should automatically get perfect on my practical portion since he knows I know this shit. My old group claimed they wanted me back, and my V boys said "no way! She's a gem! And she's ours now!".
Came home, gorgeous drive. Put on a skirt and looked pseudo-pretty and went out and did some shopping with Dave. I can still fit into Gap jeans, long and slim style, even though they're pretty tight. Didn't get them because of this reason. Ended up picking up a gorgeous sexy black top at Old Navy and a pair of jeans there.
Went for dinner at Mandarin, per plans. Wait time was 45 minutes, but seeing as how it was a gorgeous night we sat on the patio and chatted while waiting. Time flew by amazingly fast. Dinner was great, with more conversation. I've been with the guy for a year and a half, and I never even knew what he had been studying in college, or how much he had completed. And now I do. :) I love that he's a great tipper too. Can't blame him though, everything was perfect.
We then went to the theatre and saw A History of Violence, a.k.a. the newest Cronenberg. I highly recommend it to people, so long as they (a) have an open mind, (b) are a die-hard fan of his work, (c) are canadian, and/or (d) love the independant scene as much as I do. The movie was just ... wow. Very hardcore. I found myself laughing at times because I -had- to laugh. It was so appauling that I couldn't think of how else to react. A few people left mid-movie, so it's not for the faint of heart. In my opinion the story was great, the flow was great, the acting was superb -- so rarely as of late can you see actors talk solely through their eyes and body language. I'm by far not a Viggo fan, and never seen Maria Bello before, but they were absolutely amazing. And the guy that played the son -- oh man. Spectacular. Was all the violence and hardcore scenes necessary? In my opinion, yes. For one, it's just his style. For two, it just wouldn't affect you like it does if it wasn't there.
It actually got me to thinking that maybe, in some way, instinct can be genetically inherited. I don't really want to discuss it further at risk of spoiling the film, but I've often wondered if personality traits/triggers could be passed on from generation to generation. It got me thinking this again.
So yeah, lovely night. Left the movie holding hands. I felt 15 again. And then had mind-blowing sex with a man I adore. It was a break we both needed, and it was well worth it.
And only after, while detangling from the drenched blankets underneath, did I find out I forgot to take his shoes off. Ooops.
Seriously though, it's been a long time coming. I wouldn't say our sex life was boring, but it's definitely been lax. Between my stress and his lack thereof, and my family health issues and his family health issues, and with my bad back and then bad knee .. yeah. The mood has been pretty dismal.
Tonight was, essentially, the perfect night.
I did the school thing. First test, worth 18 marks. I'm figuring worst-case scenario I got 15/18, which is 83%. No worries. On the interesting side is that the professor approached my group and asked if one of us would work with this other group that's having problems running the software. He wanted the person the most comfortable with it. I find it ironic that apparently -I- am the most comfortable considering I've never actually used it, just told people what to do. Either way, I went with the new group and had fun. The one guy is worshipping me like the goddess I am [finally!], and the other just arrived from India too months ago, and doesn't appear to understand my sense of humor. They get confused easily too. Example:
him: My name is Vimbli.
me: Vinly?
him: No, Vimbli. Vee eye em bee elle eye.
me: Vimbi?
him: Vimbli.
me: Vimbli, ok. *saying over and over in head*
him: And you are Sara yes?
me: Yup.
him: Ess eh are eh.
me: No, Sarah with an h.
him: Oh, so you are Sara H? Is Sara your last name then?
me: Umm, no, first name. H is just an initial.
him: *confusion*
Ah yes, multicultural classes are fun. Apparently Muhammed isn't Muhammed either. He's Vimsay. They're crazy about those V's. He gave me his email. See? He appreciates me. Either way, I ended up tutoring THREE groups through the software. The professor seemed to appreciate it since he's usually overworked himself. I think at this point I should automatically get perfect on my practical portion since he knows I know this shit. My old group claimed they wanted me back, and my V boys said "no way! She's a gem! And she's ours now!".
Came home, gorgeous drive. Put on a skirt and looked pseudo-pretty and went out and did some shopping with Dave. I can still fit into Gap jeans, long and slim style, even though they're pretty tight. Didn't get them because of this reason. Ended up picking up a gorgeous sexy black top at Old Navy and a pair of jeans there.
Went for dinner at Mandarin, per plans. Wait time was 45 minutes, but seeing as how it was a gorgeous night we sat on the patio and chatted while waiting. Time flew by amazingly fast. Dinner was great, with more conversation. I've been with the guy for a year and a half, and I never even knew what he had been studying in college, or how much he had completed. And now I do. :) I love that he's a great tipper too. Can't blame him though, everything was perfect.
We then went to the theatre and saw A History of Violence, a.k.a. the newest Cronenberg. I highly recommend it to people, so long as they (a) have an open mind, (b) are a die-hard fan of his work, (c) are canadian, and/or (d) love the independant scene as much as I do. The movie was just ... wow. Very hardcore. I found myself laughing at times because I -had- to laugh. It was so appauling that I couldn't think of how else to react. A few people left mid-movie, so it's not for the faint of heart. In my opinion the story was great, the flow was great, the acting was superb -- so rarely as of late can you see actors talk solely through their eyes and body language. I'm by far not a Viggo fan, and never seen Maria Bello before, but they were absolutely amazing. And the guy that played the son -- oh man. Spectacular. Was all the violence and hardcore scenes necessary? In my opinion, yes. For one, it's just his style. For two, it just wouldn't affect you like it does if it wasn't there.
It actually got me to thinking that maybe, in some way, instinct can be genetically inherited. I don't really want to discuss it further at risk of spoiling the film, but I've often wondered if personality traits/triggers could be passed on from generation to generation. It got me thinking this again.
So yeah, lovely night. Left the movie holding hands. I felt 15 again. And then had mind-blowing sex with a man I adore. It was a break we both needed, and it was well worth it.