There I was, flat on my back with one of my best friends easing his fingers into me. The season finale of Making the Band had just started. We had waited all this time and now we were just going to miss it. Oh well. I would just listen as he kissed my neck and slowly graduated up to two fingers. Yeah right ... at this point, I could have cared less about what the fuck P Diddy or anyone else had to say. I had even shut off the voice in my own head. He was all I could hear, feel, smell or taste. At some point, we had done away with his pants and I had gotten on top of him. He sat up, I took him in my hand and I leaned down and lightly kissed him. I needed more.
We slipped off the couch and onto the floor and he quickly excused himself. This was routine. There was no doubt in my mind. He was going to get a condom. He returned quickly, got everything into place and parted my legs. He was big. Not just like average big, he was big. He filled me and then some. I was thrilled by him. Literally. I was a little scared that he could hurt me. I was excited that I knew him and trusted him. I was comfortable and uncomfortable at the same time. Just then, I realized I had never not wanted this. I had pushed it into the back of my mind, painted friend across his face, but once I looked past the Sean I had created, it was just him.
He turned me over and entered me from behind. He felt so good. After a few moments, I heard it. Oops. We had lost a condom. It couldn't withstand the pressure. He pulled out of me fast and went to get another. Ope ... if you are the kind of person that enjoys playing really cruel tricks on people, you probably guessed what happened next. He entered the room without a condom. That was it ... the last condom from the box lay broken on the bed.
I will spare you all the details of the rest of the night. Never have I ever been in such a shared frustration. He contemplated going to the store, asking a neighbor. It was 3 or 4 am by this time and we were S.O.L. Time to call it a night, kids. But, we couldn't. If he even brushed up against me I got a pain in my stomach. I still needed more. At one point, he got up and sat in a chair. We needed space. We were both in pain. This went on for what felt like hours. We finally fell asleep. That night had been great and incomplete all at once. We got all the way through the season of Making the Band and missed the finale.
When we woke in the morning, the voices of reason were back on, at full volume. We were friends. The lust had been replaced with exhaustion and so I got up and went home. After that, it was a little awkward, but we got past it. We were friends again. I would occasionally get the urge to finish the job, but, as time went on, Sean and I grew apart and eventually he was just gone. I moved away and we would chat every once in a while, but years have gone by and I haven't even seen him. We don't talk at all, anymore. I don't even know how to get in touch with him. He's just a series of good memories. But, sometimes, in the dark of night, as I lay down to go to bed, I close my eyes and Sean and I finish what we started.
- Poly Amory
- I am the product-child of the Women's Lib movement. I have a grade A education, a promising career and no immediate goal for children or a spouse. I will be 30 this year and I have spent many years in monogamous relationships. In and out of 1 to 2 year relationships, I always dated with the goal of meeting someone special. Most of the time I didn't date. Most of the time I found myself falling into relationship after relationship. These relationships were doomed to fail. They were all built on expectations that were, for me, unattainable. I love meeting new people. I find sex enjoyable and empowering and I am not happy when I am monogamous. So, after my last break-up, after taking some time to grieve, I decided to cut my societal puppet strings and get back in the game. I set out on a mission to spend the Summer of 2010 dating as many men as possible. My only initial criteria was attraction. My only limitation was - no love and no structured relationships. This is my date by date tale of what life can be like outside of the goals of relationships and love.
- ► 2011 (78)
- Departure - Part 3
- Departure - Part 2
- Departure - Part 1
- Last "Official Date" Of The Summer
- My Final Night In Houston
- Nice To Meet You Love. You Look Nothing Like Your ...
- Ask Him Out -- Today
- Making the What? Continued
- Making the What?
- That's A Wrap, Houston ...
- Danger. Do Not Enter... or How My Ex Ruined My Day...
- There Will Be No Obligatory Sex.
- The Good Date - Part 2
- Letters From Natalia - My Life As The Other Woman
- The Good Date - Part 1
- The Nice Girl
- Head ... It's A Deal Breaker.
- Face Shots ...
- It's Not Love. It's Just Good.
- The Co-Worker - Part 2
- Messages From Online Daters
- The Co-Worker
- Scared Smart
- Letters From Readers - My Life Without an Orgasm
- Missing: The Female Orgasm - Reward Offered
- Not Feelin' It, Mrs. Robinson
- Everybody Hates Chris - Pt 2 - The No-Tell
- Everybody Hates Chris
- The DP Dilemma
- Feminist Me
- Feature Article
- Morning Glory
- No Sharing
- ▼ August (41)