Date Number Four With Someone New
So, folks, I have good news to report: Someone New and I finally managed to get our shit together. WE MADE IT TO THE BEDROOM! And let me tell you, date four was every bit as exciting and thrilling as I hoped it would be. It was the perfect way to start four weeks of no sex … but I’ll go into that later. Let’s get all good and excited about the good news first.
He met me from the station on Tuesday evening and we grabbed some groceries for dinner. Back at his, awkward and nervous at the start, as always, he rallied around, cooking me dinner and making me comfortable on the couch, grabbing blankets and generally fussing. He couldn’t have been more attentive if he tried. He even hid five Kinder Eggs (my favourite chocolate) around the house in places he knew I’d find them. This is a good sign, right? Or is he just trying to make a good impression at the start? You know what men are like: they’re all hearts, flowers, and romance at the beginning, but it doesn’t take long for that facade to slip.
We snuggled on the couch while he royally fucked up dinner by not putting the oven on the right temperature (which he later tried to blame on me, but I’m kinda hoping he was joking!), but it wasn’t just one-sided fuckery; I managed to knock over and smash a full glass of wine. Great job considering he was house sitting and it wasn’t even his carpet … or glass! Oops! I get so clumsy, especially when I’m nervous. But I guess it’s a good sign that he makes me nervous?
After a bit of serious kissing on the couch, he ordered me to go upstairs to bed. He’s very good at that: ordering me around.
“Sit on the couch”
“I’m about to brush my teeth, you should go first”
“Put these cushions under your ass”
“Watch me while I play with myself”….
I think I’m right with my previous predictions. He is most definitely a control freak. A ‘Mr. Grey’ type control freak, I think. From a very early point, he repeatedly said: “You are mine”. I’m trying to work out if it’s in a good way or a bad way. But he wouldn’t let me help with the cooking, and then he refused to let me help with the cleaning up. He wouldn’t let me move, bringing my wine to me, my dinner to me, and running in with a cloth to mop up the mess I made with the smashed glass. In one sense, it’s really nice being catered to like that, but on the other side, it’s really intimidating … in a weird sort of way. I’m starting to wonder if I would last in a relationship with a control freak. I can’t be controlled. Tried, tested, certified. I’m uncontrollable.
He was very dominant in bed, though. For someone who told me he wanted me to tie him up and have my wicked way with his body, he didn’t give me much of a chance. Plus, I was really nervous despite the two massive glasses of wine I’d guzzled down too quickly. I don’t think I gave him a very good representation of what I’m really like in bed, but it looks like he’s willing to wait the four weeks until we can next have sex. Maybe I’ll get the chance to show him the real me after all?
First-time sex is always clumsy sex. It doesn’t matter how good you are in the sack, shit always goes wrong the first time you sleep with someone new, someone shiny, someone you’ve never touched before. Luckily, not too much went wrong, but there were a couple of things: he lost the plugs out of his ears, I lost my nose stud, the dog managed to chew through an entire packet of chewing gum and we were forced to feed her this awful charcoal stuff that went everywhere and stained our clothes to try and get her to vomit. Then there was the wine glass smashing incident, and him putting the oven on 80 degrees instead of 180 and trying to blame it on me. He made lasagne for dinner, with popcorn for later-on snacks even though I can’t eat dairy (cheese on the lasagne) and popcorn is definitely one of the food no-no’s with my diverticulitis. I ate the food anyway because I didn’t want to be a fussy eater or an ungrateful cow, but then I was so petrified about going to the toilet the next morning that I ended up seriously suffering for a couple of days after. Then we couldn’t get the shower to work and it was freezing cold, and we flooded the bathroom. There was a crack in the sink that pissed water out all over the floor when I brushed my teeth. I forgot the condoms and my toothbrush. I quickly grabbed condoms on the way, but still managed to forget to buy a toothbrush! I’ll put it all down to nerves on both sides, but things didn’t exactly go according to plan…
… Until we got into bed. My body reacted very well to his body. Even now, three days later, my butt cheeks still ache after the extra activity it was forced to do during Tuesday night’s shenanigans. I was on my side, on my back, on top of him, on my front, bent over the bed, you name it, we did it. I sucked him to a beautiful finish on the couch to get the first one out of the way. I didn’t want him to come too early and ruin the evening, so I did my girlfriendly duties and made Warm Bodies a film he won’t be forgetting in a hurry if you get what I mean …
Later on, he came twice more. The first time, he made me kneel down on the ground before him, forcing me to watch himself jerk his cock to an explosive finish that covered my chest and stomach. He made me watch again the second time, but he treated me with a nice helping in my mouth, that time. When this guy said he came a lot, he wasn’t kidding. Even the third time around there was more than I could handle. Luckily, his gentlemanly control freak-side kicked in and he grabbed me some Kleenex to mop myself up.
He’d already told me that he really liked it when his partner watched him jerk off and I’d had a few questions but never been brave enough to ask him. Like, what do I do while I’m watching you jerk yourself off? Am I meant to play with myself, because I’ll probably be too nervous to do that at the beginning? Where do I look? In your face? At your hands? Right at your cock? Am I expected to talk to you or just listen and learn? I didn’t really get the chance to ask those questions, but it was OK because we answered them all.
Playing with myself, stroking his body, playing with his balls, licking my lips, looking at him in the eyes as they rolled back into the back of his head, feeling his legs tense up as he’s about to come — all acceptable things to do, apparently whilst watching your new boyfriend jerk off all over you. I’ve never really watched someone jerk off right in front of me before, but I’ll be honest: it was perhaps one of the hottest experiences I’ve ever had. Watching his eyes lustily roam over my naked, squirming body as he moved his hands over his own cock was HOT! Knowing that I was having that effect on him was the biggest ego-booster I could have asked for. To be honest, we fucked for a good couple of hours that night, repeating it all over again at 6 am the next morning. I was so sore when I hopped on the train home, but a good kind of sore. The kind that makes you smile each time you feel a stinging twinge.
I can’t wait to see him again.
Featured image by Annie Spratt on Unsplash
Informal and blogger pal version: Wait? What’s that I hear? THAT’S RIGHT, IT’S THE FUCKING SEX GONG.
Gong on dudette, gong on.
Formal professional version: Congratulations on your recent achievement, I am pleased for your progress.
Kind regards,
Seb
CEO of the World
0800-DICTATORSRULE.
[email protected]
Gong gong bitchez!!!!!!!!
You know me – I am the voice of the nastiest most man-hating bitch in the universe (and I hate it, cos we become what we say we are). You know the thing about the cooker temperature was a warning sign. You will ignore it (so did I). You are already in love with an illusion, and for a while he will prop that up by being it. Then he will let you down – because of his past. You will desperately try to save him with your love (so did I). You will fail (so did I). You will be utterly and completely broken (so was I), and then you will look deep within yourself, and you will heal (so did I).
I thought about posting this when you met Jock, and I didn’t. Told myself it was me seeing shit. Now I know it was me seeing shit cos I was once you (as you know). Just take care. Love the sex, but don’t expect too much on the strength of it. But we, your readers, have known you ages, and we care about you, even if we aren’t there on the op. Good luck! xx