*
After spending the morning in the library with two friends, attempting to complete work none of us were motivated for I decided it was time I bought new shoes. And a new top. And new leggings. Oh and a necklace. I was a poor, unfortunate girl with the ability to resist a bargain in the same way John Terry was able to keep his dick in his pants.
On my drive in to uni with my good friend Stephend, we began discussing, as we always seem to do, the trials and tribulations of getting laid. Stephend, a lot like me, agreed that she was trying to live her life through me. Involving random hotel trips and 'try before you buy' fucks. She is the dominating influence on me right about now, especially when it comes to dating and sex. She's always encouraging me to go and try things, go out even when I'm feeling a little nervous and always, without fail, up for getting me to road test things she wishes she'd done. It's hilarious and mostly offers me the encouragement to get out and get on.
Today our conversation turned to sex. "Sometimes you just need a good fuck. Not all the flowery bits." She's right. Sometimes it is all you want. It doesn't need to be candles, affirmations of love and gentle caressing. Sometimes it needs to be rough and ready. Location seems to play a huge part in this sex fiasco. Benches, cars, front gardens, trampolines and swimming pools...there didn't seem to be anywhere we weren't particularly afraid of trying. Or at least, where she wants me to try.
Recently, I had been propositioned to 'go somewhere' to indulge in one of life's greatest pleasures. It had been loosely planned. No real structure. Just the fact that he wanted to do it and do it pretty soon. Don't get me wrong, there were moments where I thought it would be a great idea. I, someone who enjoys sex, was not fazed by the actual act, it was more what my reputation would suffer from it. Going to a hotel, one night of, hopefully, good sex only to return to normal the next day with the possible chance of awkwardness. Despite, trying to be a 'give a shit about what people think' kind of girl, I did worry...only slightly. The main fear was that I would resemble some form of prostitute as, in some ways, the bloke would actually be paying for sex. He would be exchanging money to in turn, get his end away. Does this now mean that Travelodge would be my pimp? It was an awkward situation.
So, other than my worry of being seen as a prostitute, I was then left with the worry that I, at times, can be a little 'noisy' shall we say. I like to see it as an encouraging boost for the man. 'Well done fella! You're doing okay. Have a squeak for appreciation.' Well, perhaps not a squeak. I then worry that, if this sex is apparently going to be 'good' that I will be left in the uncomfortable position of doing the walk of shame through the lobby to be greeted by giggles from other customers or the staff. Stephend had a solution to this problem. "You need one of those ball gag things. Although, you need to be able to breathe and they can make you dribble quite a bit." Well, that gives you a little insight in to how Stephend's sex life goes...It was a valid suggestion but perhaps not one I would be indulging in just yet.
Who knows whether this mysterious shag will come about? But, if truth be told, perhaps it all seems a little bit too problematic. If something like that is going to happen I don't want it to be scheduled. I don't particularly want my sex life to be routined. Surely it should be spontaneous and fun, not pressured and possibly uncomfortable? It made me question him slightly too. It made me wonder why he was so keen. Did he just need a good fuck without all the flowery bits?
Hannah xox
On my drive in to uni with my good friend Stephend, we began discussing, as we always seem to do, the trials and tribulations of getting laid. Stephend, a lot like me, agreed that she was trying to live her life through me. Involving random hotel trips and 'try before you buy' fucks. She is the dominating influence on me right about now, especially when it comes to dating and sex. She's always encouraging me to go and try things, go out even when I'm feeling a little nervous and always, without fail, up for getting me to road test things she wishes she'd done. It's hilarious and mostly offers me the encouragement to get out and get on.
Today our conversation turned to sex. "Sometimes you just need a good fuck. Not all the flowery bits." She's right. Sometimes it is all you want. It doesn't need to be candles, affirmations of love and gentle caressing. Sometimes it needs to be rough and ready. Location seems to play a huge part in this sex fiasco. Benches, cars, front gardens, trampolines and swimming pools...there didn't seem to be anywhere we weren't particularly afraid of trying. Or at least, where she wants me to try.
Recently, I had been propositioned to 'go somewhere' to indulge in one of life's greatest pleasures. It had been loosely planned. No real structure. Just the fact that he wanted to do it and do it pretty soon. Don't get me wrong, there were moments where I thought it would be a great idea. I, someone who enjoys sex, was not fazed by the actual act, it was more what my reputation would suffer from it. Going to a hotel, one night of, hopefully, good sex only to return to normal the next day with the possible chance of awkwardness. Despite, trying to be a 'give a shit about what people think' kind of girl, I did worry...only slightly. The main fear was that I would resemble some form of prostitute as, in some ways, the bloke would actually be paying for sex. He would be exchanging money to in turn, get his end away. Does this now mean that Travelodge would be my pimp? It was an awkward situation.
So, other than my worry of being seen as a prostitute, I was then left with the worry that I, at times, can be a little 'noisy' shall we say. I like to see it as an encouraging boost for the man. 'Well done fella! You're doing okay. Have a squeak for appreciation.' Well, perhaps not a squeak. I then worry that, if this sex is apparently going to be 'good' that I will be left in the uncomfortable position of doing the walk of shame through the lobby to be greeted by giggles from other customers or the staff. Stephend had a solution to this problem. "You need one of those ball gag things. Although, you need to be able to breathe and they can make you dribble quite a bit." Well, that gives you a little insight in to how Stephend's sex life goes...It was a valid suggestion but perhaps not one I would be indulging in just yet.
Who knows whether this mysterious shag will come about? But, if truth be told, perhaps it all seems a little bit too problematic. If something like that is going to happen I don't want it to be scheduled. I don't particularly want my sex life to be routined. Surely it should be spontaneous and fun, not pressured and possibly uncomfortable? It made me question him slightly too. It made me wonder why he was so keen. Did he just need a good fuck without all the flowery bits?
Hannah xox
No comments:
Post a Comment