Monday, December 28, 2015

Just Fuck Your Lover





Ladies and gents, the eternal question prevails: Am I falling for my lover?

You and I know that the answer is NO. Is simple: If you would've wanted something serious with him or her you would've open your mouth for something different that wouldn't involve just fellatio.

Let's make this shit personal. I fucked this dude, and from day one, I decided he would only fell in the category of lover. This contract also included the fact that I wouldn't be seen in public with him, nor will meet my friends or will join me on a social gathering of any kind or will I accept any invitations to dinner, hangout during the day, anywhere or go shopping for shit. Why? Well, he was not at all my type -phisically speaking- he was too immature for some things that mattered to me, he was too fucking enthusiastic about a cloud, an accent, the shape of a head, and the likes (a characteristic so annoyingly engrained on this demographic below 30) and frankly this last thing seemed like a waste of precious energy (yawn). It appeared he has no sense of control, selfworth, respect  whatsoever and his surroundings seemed to not include anyone but himself. He could pick a fight just for the fuck of it and he tended to gravitate between maximum euphoria, followed by moments of profound sobbing (perhaps If I enter those last words I may find a diagnosis on WebMd that very likely will result on something like: bipolar, drug addict, psycho, schizo... you catch my drift).


So, outside of the bedroom, no sir. Nada.

But it happened he was just hanging too much at my place oh, 'cause did I mention he also lived with his parents? (lmfao) so nights that will turn into days, he will stay with me, have breakfast with me, lunch with me, get drunk again and will linger for fuckin-ever. Honestly I didn't have the heart to kick him out, but when he talked too much or wanted me to resolve some of his inner sorrows I gladly would've opened the gates of hell. Please for the love of God, just fuck me, fuck me good and shut up. And please, don't overstay your welcome. I already told you, you are my lover.


So, being with this boy made me wonder if I really wanted a relationship or just to keep fucking around. Or If I am really just a terrible cynic that goes around taking bodies and having no mercy with those I see vulnerable. But after thinking about it, I came to the conclusion that it was not 'them' with whom I didn't want to pursue a fulfilling love life as a couple. It was him. Although my body fully enjoyed what and how we did it together,  the truth is that  I did not see myself with someone with those qualities. I didn't and still don't want to teach anyone anything, save his sorry ass from his demons or act as his mom.

Sugar, I didn't and do not wish to raise you, I hope you come to me taking it like a champ, assuming your feelings and fully understanding that this, we both make. So let´s leave role playing, only for sex.

To sum it all up, in case you have any doubts, the only place you should fall in, is on his or her face.






Tuesday, December 15, 2015

My Reasons to Fuck a Punk




Laura Linney once said to Richard Gere on Primal Fear  "This was a one night stand, that lasted six months" In this case the month mark has not been reached, but still, the point is exactly the same. I have been wondering why is it that I keep opening my door to this trickster, mischief-maker, borderline delinquent, anytime he wants.

I am claiming full responsibility for deciding I wanted to fuck him. I am claiming full responsibility for still keeping him so tight between my legs, and voluntarily deciding I didn't want to let go.
Here is the thing. When I look at him, I see a kid. I hear a teenager and I touch a boy.

I also deserve to be called a liar if I'd dare to say that I didn't taste a man and felt one. And let me tell you how a man taste like for me: it is combination between sugar cane, and night, and cigarretes, and alcohol, and all of that transformed in this delicious elixir that makes me wanna -not drink- but eat everything inside. And I felt him, when in his bedroom assertiveness  he tells me what to do and exactly, how he likes to fuck me. This is the man that can't contain himself when we are together and all the time wants to be inside of me. And... I want him back. That is probably the reason why we end up fucking an average of 9 times in less than 24 hours.

Yes, I count. I count because that shit, is crucial to me.

His endurance matches my appetite. Punks have 'calle' calle makes people gain a certain behavioral quality that makes them eat, fuck and live as if  everything was going to hell in a second.

In the stupor of sex, I have found his wisdom simply precious and I have reached the point where I understand the many tribulations of his soul, which I am almost sure, know by heart. I know how I sound, but examine your own life and tell me that more than once, you have also felt this type of intimacy. He has been condenmed by his lineage and suffers the pain of a privileged life without substance. This motherfucker is a devoted lover, only dedicated to  my orgasms and is a generous partner that also shares his feelings and talks about what no ones does 'cause people are too fucking afraid to admit that yes, you fell in love, if only for a minute. And so fucking what.

You and I have.

Punk has no past and no future. Particularly the latter.



Wednesday, December 2, 2015

Tinder Dating in Colombia Part 1

Alright. Buckle up.

I started using Tinder the day after I moved to my pad. That very same early mornin' I left my hand play the swiping game. I was bored and hungover. So, WTF.

Up until then, I have heard many horror stories about how escort-looking some girls were, and how short, motorcycle lovin' ('cause that is minus 30 pts if you must know), sun glasses wearing to small   for their faces, guys were.  Well, in my case yes, there were those dudes, a lot of local military folk (I am a big fan as you know, just not in some latitudes) bold dudes at the age of 36 and one that was like: 'hey I am happily married, but let's have fun.' (This dude automatically won 10 pts for honesty)  ... and let's call him Steve. Well, Steve looked handsome, had a good selection of pics, was tall, fit, and he was half Canadian and half  Panamanian.

I'll take that.


I said... jack-fuckin-pot.  Dude gives me a heart and BOOM: It's a match. Dude texts me, dude calls me, we arrange a date and like I said I was moving so I had lots of stuff hanging around and I am not the kind of person who has boxes and paintings laying around forever. So he offered to help me move. I said to myself you know, why not. I can use someone that uses the hammer, the drill etc. etc. FYI I can manage too, very well in fact, but I just didn't want to.

Steve gets home and shit, he is hot. He thought the same as I kinda heard that silent 'Wow' behind the 'Hi'.

He came in, I showed him around, he loved it. We came upstairs and first thing he did was to sit down in my bed and kinda bounced. I was like huh? and also said mentally 'Oh honey I have a rule, nobody gets or sits in my bed wearing street clothes.'  I said nothin' cause in this non context, words and actions can be misinterpreted EASILY. I know what you are all thinking: how can she invite a total stranger into her house, didn't she think he could've been a serial killer or a thief or a hacker (that's what  I thought) or a rapist or ALL of the above? To be quite frank I did think about it, but I thinking process went someting like this: I have a doorman, a friend is coming, my mom will arrive in a few hours.

So, I felt safe.

Within the first 10 m he said 'Boy you are very beautiful'. I said 'thank you' while I kept on sanding a table.
Listen, I am not a jerk but I do get some things about me.

My friend arrived, my mom arrived -this was not the first time I have made first dates with an audience present- and everyone seemed to be getting along pretty well. Everyone had a chance to talk to each other alone and it all went smoothly except that the dude was all hands and arms and everything in front of my mom and my friend, who knew by know that we just met using TINDER for fuck's sakes. I absolutely love touching people, but this one, dunno, I felt cornered, uneasy. Weird.

Later I found him making a very ellaborate coffee, chatting up my mom, doing the dishes cleaning the  kitchen and for a brief second I said, Do I smell bullshit or do I smell bullshit?

My friend left, my mom went to bed and he said, come sit here with me - I gotta say that I didn't have any chairs so the other option was the floor. He didn't approve of the way I was sitting on my hammock so he guided me on  'how to sit'. His way was open legs, mine and his and our crotches kind of locked. Pfff. (I know many tricks in the book, this one made me laugh) but being the cynic I am I was trying to be less of Erik and allowed him to show me his utter most feelings by you know, rubbing our bodies... and this seemed to make him feel right at 'home'. 

We shared life stories and at a moment he seemed pretty moved to the point of tears when I shared the story of the tragic death of my father. Hours into the conversation, he grabbed my legs, he kissed my feet (and he was not being shy about it) and I let him. Then, I stood up to check on my mom and when I was going upstairs he said, I guess I can't sleep over, right? In my head I went -What gave you the hint that you were going to sleep over? Was it my reaction everytime you put your hands on me and I moved away? Was the fact that after moving I forgot to buy soap so I washed only with water and I told you about it? Was the clear sign that I didn't shave my legs and you saw them? Was it the mistake I made of forgetting to wear deodorant and laughing while recounting the facts of the day with you? That had to be it, honey- I was deliciously dirty and sweaty so I could enjoy myself in the fact that I was a magnificent, flawless, divine queen, dame of pleasure, that was dying to share the finest of this human after a long couple of days of wrapping, unwrapping, stocking, organizing, sanding, painting.

Steve, said: Can I see you tomorrow? Believe or not I said yes. 
 


Monday, November 30, 2015

The boyfriend



I have pledged not to be with someone who had a relationship, 'cause really what is the fucking point. But he is in one and I -almost- don't care.

Circumstances can be a bitch sometimes (boy I know about those...) but maybe they are in many cases a blessing in disguise. All I know is that there are some simpler equations: we like what we see, we pursue, we get, we either move on or continue to dig deeper and If you deem OK to use your body as a tool for discovery -like I do-  go for it. My encounters with him from day one have been the most delightful thing for my own pleasure and also from day one, I granted him some sort of trust: I have been able to look at him directly in the eyes when we fuck 'cause I have nothing, nothing to hide, this also happens to me when I get to be so outside of myself with all of my senses absolutely compromised, that truly at this point you can make me promise anything, and I will undoubtedly follow through.

Also, I need to stop right here and tell you -because this is also a time to reflect for me- he is not in any way remotely close to the type of dudes I usually date. He is not over 6'. He doesn't have blue or green eyes. He is not a blonde.
He has very short dark hair, brown eyes and has many scars -both kinds-.
He can be childish, speaks loudly and it is extremely rough around the edges, which totally makes for a good deserved spanking session. He also loves to walk around my apartment fully naked and won't feel ashamed that my huge windows are like a giant screen for my neighbors. He will show up at 4 am in the morning and will bring me fresh flowers and a bottle of anything I asked. When he rings me he talks to me, instead of wanting to close some sort of deal. He is not afraid of leaving me messages,  and can call me 'my love' with an astonishing naturality. He will show me all the joint-smoking tricks that exist in the book and would enjoy it as if he and I were 16.

Sex with him is an adventure that makes my head explode. From the moment my lips and his gets close I can tell there is nothing foreign here, everything just fits. From the moment this indelicate beast puts his fingers between my legs, right then and there I have lost all sense of will and nothing can or will stop the escalation of these intricate sensations that every time turn into a delicious exploration of every corner of us.

I must confess that with him, I am not the agressor no more and I am completely fine with it. I don't feel I want to defeat him or leave him powerless. With no one in a long time, I have felt more fememine, more exalted as a woman, more worshipped and lavished in all I am.


Maybe is the fact that he is only 28 and these dudes are totally somethin' else. Who the fuck knows. 


Thursday, November 5, 2015

Savages 2




I only had one day left in Montreal before heading back to New York. To my home and to my boyfriend.

But savage and I had to see each other again. Although everything in me was still very much sore after what we endured, just hours before, I just had to feel all of that weight in me, had to visit the depths of my instinct and decided to actively degrade my body to its lowest level to the point where I had to feel pain, was determined to be teared and torn.

We met at a bar and I couldn't be less interested on the vodka or the place or the music. This shit was NOT a date, this was called: can we just cut the crap and fuck, fuck, fuck? So I had two drinks, talked about whatever, 'cause you know sometimes I am ladylike and it's 'unbecoming' to say: Hi, can we fuck now? (blah)

So I told him. Can we fuck now?


We left and took a cab that took for fucking ever to arrive to his home. His building was O.K. clean outside, didn't look rundown or anything. Now, the entrance was another story. The moment he opened the door it seemed like the inside belonged to a building in the Bronx. Walls with cracks, peeled paint, stained doors and one of those, just missing, right across the hall from his apartment.

He said 'Oh, did I mention that I have roommates?' and I said, no. Then he added 'Oh, ok. Well I do.'
There was a long hallway and some rooms distributed on one side of the place. He took me immediatly to his room, where there was an inflatable mattress on the floor, and dishes, dishes with stuff everywhere. I sat on the mattress and opened my legs as the most direct invitation to me. He kneeled and kissed me and submitted me to the bed. Quickly, desperately and furiously I took his belt off, unzipped his jeans and he just slipped my dress off of me.

Oh God I really couldn't wait for him to be inside of me, that very thought of him just completing me with him, made me insane,
'cause I know how this feels,
'cause I love how this is,
... 'cause I long for this moment of bliss.

Savage was a smart, instictive lover. He really just let go and he just WAS.  But at moments I caught him totally gone and fucking me with wrath and hate. He could have shown me his long rows of teeth wanting to scrape the flesh off of my body.
Right then and there I allowed him continue on his sex voyage, inside of himself and just observed this human leaving it all on me.


Something else happened.


Thursday, October 29, 2015

This is a man



1- The one that can't believe you are talking to him but rather takes it slow with poise,  and knows that a smile or a good conversation in a room full of hotter dudes -that have been eye-fucking you- won't mean that you will perform the Kama Sutra on his face the same night.

2- The one that is smart enough to feel, that you may.

3- The one that won't charm you with the expectation of a life you clearly won't be part of, although he once thought this was a killer tactic 'to get in yo' pants mama'

People. it takes a lot to impress me. A huge dick, for example.

4- The one that after you slept with him and shared some big 'Lifetime' moments (yes, the ultra-uber-insanely corny network. Think of Steel Magnolias on a fucking Trazodone binge, and no food) and the same week still will call you with a casual 'whats up girl, what are you doing tonight?' and won't expect that you do a replay or be offended by the fact that you have other plans at somebody else's bed... for example?

This is the same man that the following week, fearlessly, will ask you out again.

5- The one that doesn't call you 'cause in his asshole heart, he knows you are better off without him, BUT will find the way to let you know about it.

6- He whom knows that after that late night you went 'downtown', and both of you are SURE that you are not that into him, but in spite of it will remain courtly and gallant, and also will be this guy who is accepting it with dignity and won't be offended by the fact that you were just horny.

FYI those are the best nights to bump into me.

7- This guy who can embrace his own awkwardness and will have a blast sharing it with you.
8-  The dude that is gracious when you introduce him to the whole city that has been your boyfriend.
9- The one that does not make any decisions for you i.e I am not sure she likes me that much.
10- The one that is sure no matter what, that I am a fucking romantic, loyal, faithful and full of admiration for him, particularly in the mornings while I am being handcuffed.


Thursday, October 22, 2015

Savages




I call him savage.
 
... and the reason is very simple: we shared around 10 hours of exquisite raw sex.

Not only I had no hope for this twenty something boy, but this particular time I was not actively searching for anything: sweet or bitter. Or hot. Or heavier. Or rough. (or so I thought) I was just contemplating these new group of humans in a new city, in a new country.

At the bar, middle of August, full summer after dancing all kinds of 90´s classics, we stood in front of each other -all sweaty and agitated- and did not exchange a word until it was time to go somewhere else. Bar lights went on, 'O.K guys time to go home' (its equivalent in French) and the boy  asked me If I wanted to join him for a walk. (Hey, you gotta at least admire he was a bit creative)

 I accepted.


We ended up going to his friend´s place who was out of town. There were pieces of a messy human being, dishes with unfinished cereal, glasses, a half eaten clementine, some bananas a couple of days after their time.  I sat on the part of the couch that had no bags, clothing and papers on it. He offered me some water, followed by some random small talk and then there it was... that recognizable and mute glimpse that clearly says 'I want to fuck your brains out' followed by some silence, and then his 21 year old lips pronounced: 'I wonder how it would be like to kiss you'. To which I replied, getting closer to him and grabbing his chin 'I can help you with that.'

At first he seemed too eager and anxious. It took him exactly 30 seconds to get on top of me. I was immediately reminded of those high school encounters, charged with heavy breathing, clumsiness and desperation and the impending curiosity to feel anything that could mean going further. He lifted me up and took me to the bed (also full of crap). He pulled up my skirt and took  my underwear off and proceeded to lick me. This time he was assertive, slow and had that precise rhythm that this delicate piece of anatomy requires.

Happy Birthday to me.

Hours into the game, and what it must have seemed like days for patient neighbors, the boy wouldn't stop. I didn't want to either, I found a new 6 feet 5 inches lot where I could just do it all. He allowed me to play what I pleased, as he played with me, while we continued the devouring rituals.  We slipped over each other, and from time to time drops of salty, transparent water fell over my cheeks and then it was like a stream that wouldn't end running. I decided to completely surrender to the water, the salt, to the constant dripping almost hurting my face.

I stuck my tongue out so I can only (and intentionally) barely touch his lips.  Words that come to mind now: slower, closer, surprise, push, switch, tease=GAME.

Savage appetite was only fueled by the fact that this body was extremely foreign to him, as his was to me and I must add, while lost in the long swaying, there was a pact of vanishing in both our eyes that concurred: no fear, no future, no past, no intention, no harm.


He was an easy one that would gladly get lost in his body and somebody's but also, It took another encounter for me to learn that Savage, was one very dirty (and scary) boy. VERY.

Thursday, October 8, 2015

Enjoying me



Thanks to someone that follows my blog and asked about it yesterday, I thought it was only fair to return his care in the form of some words and for me a way to remind me how much I love filling out this box. If you must know, I have been dealing with packing, giving stuff away, unpacking, tracking and arriving in another country. Then, my mother's illness her doctor´s appointments, her treatment and overall turning my life around. However,  that doesn't mean I have not been enjoying the pleasures of my body.

But let's see where did I leave the last time. After the naked police officer, I came to Colombia and of course I met old lovers. Easy to think that those old flames could somehow be revived and give way to a new story. It should also be known that old patterns from some of them haven't changed and for the love I want to grow, those cannot be there anymore.

New stories can't start with recycled feelings.

I was invited to a party by one of those 'old flames' I must say that I arrived with a guy that was visiting and with whom I had a very short affair. By short I mean one night. Hey, don't judge I also love to visit places and have the option of some 'local love'. So, the one who invited me to this party was surrounded by dudes (I said yumm) and there was one that I set my sights on. I proceeded to toy with the visitor, to occasionally lock eyes with the host, and definitely put on the moves with the new dude. The foreigner decided to retire -not before letting me know how close he'd rather sleep with me that evening- and went back home, safe (and untouched) to his girlfriend. The other two stayed, so I had to make the best of the situation: I wanted the two of them (hahahaha) BUT I knew my friend wouldn't go along with that, so the least I could do, was to play my cards right.

Host and I get pretty hot and heavy at the bar. Host asked me to go home with him. Host and I had one epic body battle in bed.

Next day, I really wanted to see his friend. (and please, and again, save the judgement: I don't have a boyfriend, If you are a dude I am as hungry as you, and I also belong to the party of S.L.G (See, Like, Get) 'cause people in the love quest, time is of essence.

So I wrote to the new dude. Asked him out. He said kinda yes, then hours later, changed his mind. I knew exactly these things: 1) He liked me 2) He is one loyal motherfucker, and I do respect that. 3) If he knew beforehand, after this revelation, he will never be at the same place with me and his friend.

Never.

Friend of the epic battle finds out. Friend got pissed. Friend cannot face me and wouldn't talk to me which I only found out months after getting but silence from him. 

In all honesty, I am not arrogant when it comes to apologizing when I know I am in the wrong. But this is not the case.  If I don't act like I feel I can, I would be completely incoherent. Unfortunately for some 'traitor' is it not a word I use very often to talk about myself.

This is in part my definition of enjoying me (with you).


 


Thursday, April 2, 2015

Naked New York's Finest




I joined a dating service called Happn and what it does, is to connect you with people that you've crossed paths with. Let me tell you, the premise sounded super cool to me, 'cause in all honesty I have at least 3 crushes a day with dudes that I find delicious.
(As I am writing this entry there is one sitting in front of me at this coffee shop.)

On my first week of having the app, let's talk of one of those Fridays when I came back home at 2am, with maybe one too many Jameson's on my body, I decided to check out the app and see what up. Well, what was up was this police dude who contacted me and immediately during our 2 minute text exchange, he proceeded to send me the picture that 'adornes' this post. My reaction was -huh?- even though I was drunk I still thought of the following:

1- Is he hot or not
2- Wait. Weren't we just texting for about just 2 min+
3- This is a police man. Police man. Police man. Yum... maybe?
4- Indiscretions like these, are great writing material.

I did reply. with a: Is this you right now? (code for: Perhaps I will be the equivalent of Samantha at FDNY's station... I wouldn't mind...)

He said no. He was on duty and driving on a car patrolling the streets of the very dangerous Upper East Side. Right after, he sent me a dark pic of him while he was working. Didn't like his face very much. He was wearing glasses and seemed a bit off, kinda insecure. Mmmm.

I kept on drinking tequila and we continued our conversation escalating into the very sexual.
I gotta admit I was pushing it, and being really flirtatious because I really wanted to see, how far this will go.

In every sense.

...It was already very late and I started to feel drunk-leepy (yeah, you know, the drunk the falls asleep on the couch 'cause he or she just wanted to the rest the eyes for 5m) He said he was going to take a break.

I fell asleep (I think in the couch) and woke up to see more messages of him pushing me to send him a picture: I. Don't. Do. That. And with the morning light he sent me another pic. still looked not hot, insecure and ... just not my type. I also remembered the naked picture and said: What the fuck was he thinking?

Unlike our Congressmen, Senators, public figures etc. I am somehow careful when it comes to this. God forbid it ends up at a blog like mine.