The Riding Crop, The Proposed Threesome and a Brown Derby
One Ball has been and gone again. He’s gone back to his army base, a good two-hours drive away from where I live, and we’ve made no more plans to see each other for at least another four weeks. Four long and miserable weeks. I forgot just how much long-distance relationships sucked.
As always, I slept perfectly for the entire time he was here. No nightmares, no random waking up in the middle of the night, just blissful rest and sleep. Well, it was almost blissful; there was one night he woke me up at 4 am to have a conversation. Just what all girls need at four in the morning. The night before I’d mentioned something about having itchy feet and wanting to go travelling again, and that sent his brain into hyperdrive. He started panicking, worrying that I was going to hop on a plane and not come back … because I’ve been known to do that before. In fact, I’ve done it more than a few times.
I managed to soothe him with the right words, some soft kisses, and then some hard sex, but I could tell the conversation hadn’t been entirely finished off. It was still on his mind and because I knew that, it was still on mine.
The next night, it was me that awoke at four in the morning, but for a different reason entirely. I’d clearly been having some sort of erotic dream because I woke up soaking wet, already writhing around, and definitely in the mood for sex. Luckily, I had a hot guy with a willing dick right next to me. I started by kissing his chest, lightly at first and then building up the intensity so that I was nibbling and sucking too. Then I trailed my hands down his body, pulling down his boxer shorts to admire his semi-erect and very beautiful dick.
Sadly, that’s where it ends. He batted my hand away, grunted something, and rolled over. When I tried to snuggle up behind him, sex clearly off the table, he moved further away.
My boyfriend, peeps. Clearly we haven’t got this sleeping-together business figured out yet.
The next morning, when we awoke, I told him of our nighttime activities and that’s when he accused me of lying.
“Why on earth would I lie about that?” I asked.
“I don’t know. Why would I push you away in the night? I wouldn’t!” he replied.
“Look, it’s not a big deal. I’m not upset about it, I just wanted to tell you, that’s all. Let it go now.”
“No, you can’t hold me accountable for my actions when I’m asleep. That’s not fair!” he kept the argument going.
“I’m NOT holding you accountable for your actions when you’re asleep. I’m just telling you what went on last night. Why is this becoming such a big deal?”
We went around and around for a little bit longer but eventually, the fight was dropped. I actually thought he looked pretty cute when he was getting all riled up and angry, but the mini-fight had pissed me off quite a bit. I couldn’t quite work out how come it had escalated to that point in the first place.
The rest of the time was relatively stress-free. We went for brown derby desserts at a local Wimpy restaurant, and we also spent a day at the arcades, changing our notes into pennies and small change to throw into machines that we’d never actually win anything from. It was fun. I had fun around him. Lovely fun. Like … love-ly fun, ya know? I’m definitely in love again.
We spent a lazy Sunday in bed, just fucking all day long, eating in bed, drinking in bed, barely moving from the bed at all. Being in his company is easy for me. Being together is easy for us. There’s a part of me that feels like the bubble is about to burst, though. Little cracks are starting to show. Not that there weren’t little cracks beforehand, of course, what with his lying about all sorts. But the fight about me travelling keeps coming back to haunt my thoughts, right alongside the moment he accused me of lying to him about what we’d got up to in the night. And then I remembered all the shit he kept leaving all around my bedroom and how much it annoyed me, and how stand-offish he could be about certain topics of conversation.
And then, as if things weren’t already up-and-down enough, someone came along and sent a text.
“What are you doing right now?”
It was The Lapdog.
“I’m in bed with my boyfriend,” I replied.
“Shall we have a threesome?”
What the actual living fuck?
Let me say it again, louder:
WHAT THE ACTUAL LIVING FUCK??
The Lapdog has a GIRLFRIEND now. A proper one. One that he says he loves and talks about constantly on social media. So why – oh fucking why – is he asking me for a threesome? I’m down with most things (and I’d probably be 100% down with this proposed threesome in entirely different circumstances), but The Lapdog and I have never even discussed the idea of a threesome, or of inviting someone else into our sexual encounters.
And again: what about his girlfriend?! I figured I’d ask him outright.
“Shouldn’t you be having a threesome with your girlfriend?”
“Probably, but I got some Mandy [MDMA] and now I want you. I don’t mind sharing you,” he replied.
Well, that makes more sense. Of course he’d be messaging me for sex because he’s off his head. I was his go-to Mandy fuck. To be fair, though, he was also mine.
After a couple of texts back and forth, I put my phone on silent and ignored all further correspondence. I had to. My vagina was literally dancing its way to The Lapdog’s house at the thought of a drug-fuelled night with him, but he’s a committed relationship now … and so am I. And my boyfriend was right there beside me.
So, that’s the brown derby and the proposed threesome covered …
I should probably tell you about the riding crop next.
To be continued …
