Friday, February 20, 2009

The black lonelies

Lady's got the blues. I had to work Valentine's Day, and the Lt. and I had planned to meet at my place that night. He didn't show. Didn't call. I guess I've done worse, but I prefer to be the first to walk away. God, I am fighting this feeling of being old and unattractive -- so immature. I called him once and left a message. I won't call again. It's a shame: not that he was "the one" but because we hadn't enjoyed each other up yet. Times like this get me thinking about all those roads not taken. I could have had children and a "happily married life." I didn't want that...not with a dangerous career for mommy, not with my family's fuckupedness genes, not with me the way I am. I'll be fine. Shit...

Thursday, February 12, 2009

Fucking over lunch


I've enjoyed a couple of splendid "nooners" lately, with the Lieutenant working close enough to my apartment to grab the Metro and meet me there to devour each other. Nooners are the perfect place for the urgent fuck -- where you just go for it, with the goal being to get off as fast and intensely as possible.

The well-done urgent fuck requires a skillful lover. Otherwise, it's just like back in college (for a woman, anyway) where the guys just want to hump and come in you and fall asleep or go off drinking with the guys. I did a few of those, and they leave you feeling empty and unsatisfied. Ah, but a good urgent fuck...

What's the difference? Anticipation for someone who you know will also love you well and all night long? Knowing how to get off myself, instead of hoping for my white knight while some 19-year-old fucks me for two minutes. That demon craving for cock, inside me, now. After college, I had several affairs where we would screw over the lunch break and it was grand. Urgent fucking can assume other venues, of course, such as the time my boyfriend fucked me on the hood of his car on a dark country road -- but that, dear readers, is another story.

The trouble is, I can't recall every detail -- that's part of the intensity. Piles of clothes. Good kissing and a sense that there's all the time in the world...even if you have an important 1:15 meeting. Mounting that nice hard penis, I'm already so wet!, and riding to my own greedy orgasm. Or letting him give me a good athletic fuck on top, my ankles up over his shoulders making me feel him so deep inside -- and he just goes nuts fucking me until he comes. Even if I have only a couple of baby orgasms, it's worth it. Afterwards, he holds me close and I play with the hair on his chest. A few minutes can go a long way.

Sometimes I am a little flushed at my next meeting or work assignment. But my co-workers just think I'm the blushing type...

Monday, February 2, 2009