Crackwhores and Chubby Sex -or- M says I’m a good girl!
This whole “crackwhore living beneath us” thing is not gonna work out. For serious. She’s got Johns and dealers running in and out of the house all day and night, and they raise holy hell until the wee hours of the morning. No matter what day it is.
I foresee one of two things happening:
- M and I move.
- We join forces with the couple in back and get her kicked out.
I dunno how we’re gonna manage either of those. The landlord seems to only be interested in money, and saving for security and such is gonna take some time.
In other news, I’ll give you three guesses what happened a day or so after I lost my cool, and the first two don’t count. If you guessed “You started your period!”, you’re right! I don’t know why it doesn’t just dawn on us, when it happens, that it’s almost time. I mean, it makes sense. The vast majority of the rest of the month, I’m calm, cool and collected when it comes to M. When it gets close to “that time”, I lose my grip, and everything that either I usually ignore, or shouldn’t really bother me, becomes too much.
I know I’ve said all that before. I know we go in circles with this. It’s partly because I have my tubes tied, so I don’t see the point in keeping track of my cycle. I suppose I should start so we have some warning.
No, really… Next subject!
Ooo! I gots a question for you all. I was thinking about doing a post each week with links to reviews, posts and erotica that I’ve posted elsewhere (if there are any). Not forum threads, or anything. Just, like, my posts on SubGuide and Eden Cafe and any reviews I do on-site at Eden Fantasys. I figure this way it’ll be easier for those of you interested in seeing my off-site stuff to find it. My question for you is: Is this something that would interest you?
And suddenly… I have a topic! It might be all over the place, cause it’s chasing its tail in my mind. Shaddup, you know you like my rambling.
M keeps telling me how good I was last night.
He kept offering to watch porn and let me masturbate, but I wasn’t really into either. My period’s giving me a particularly difficult time, so masturbating wasn’t on the top of my list of things to do, and for whatever reason, I just wasn’t in the mood to watch people fuck.
I knew that at least a part of it was because He wanted to get off. And oddly enough, though it used to piss me off with other “lovers” in my younger years, getting Him off satisfies me, mentally and emotionally, just as well as if I get off, too. That whole “knowing I’ve pleased Him” thing, I guess.
When He said, “We can watch porn and you can fuck yourself, or you can go make the bed.” I opted for making the bed. He said, “Okay but you’re going to owe me something tomorrow, don’t you think?”
I wanted to get Him off. I planned to get Him off. But I wasn’t entirely sure how to go about it. Even after almost eight years, I still get jittery about rejection.
So after laying in bed for a while, I started kissing His arms and chest and belly. And then I said, “Just cause I want to wait doesn’t mean you have to.”
He rubbed His cock all over my body while I kissed and licked all over His. And while, once upon a time, I’d have been all sorts of self-conscious over someone using my entire body to get themselves off (and not in the conventional way), I found myself completely comfortable and ridiculously turned on. There’s something incredibly exhilarating about feeling M’s cock get rock hard just by rubbing it on my fat.
I was trying to figure out a more tactful way of putting it, but it is what it is. His cock gets hard when He jerks off on my fat stomach. And that makes me feel incredibly sexy. Odd, that.
When He was ready to cum, we moved to the living room because He wanted me to kneel in front of Him while He came on my face. Most of it ended up in my mouth, and god does He taste good.
We went back to bed, but it wasn’t long before He was sort of laying on top of me and rubbing off on my ass and my back. He didn’t really use His hands. He just positioned Himself in a way that allowed Him to fuck my back almost as if He were fucking my pussy. He came that way, and I was dripping wet, wishing the thought of masturbating didn’t turn my stomach.
He’s been telling me how good I was since.
I’m beaming like you wouldn’t believe. Whereas not too long ago Him telling me I’m a “good girl” over something sexual would have put butterflies in my tummy and made me wonder if I’m good at anything non-sexual, I’m pretty okay with it now. But I’ve been wondering why I used to feel that way.
And ya know, I don’t really know. The only thing I can come up with is that it ties into the whole “Sex is bad, mmkay?” thought process that I’ve been trying so hard to get rid of. I mean, if sex is bad, and the only thing I’m good at is sex, then I must be bad, too, right?
In any case, I appear to be over it. A step in the right direction, eh?