Tuesday. Hot. Sticky. Delicious.
Around noon I get a text message. Almost Home. It says. Trucker Joe. Keeping me appraised of the situation. I fucking like that. Like really like that. I go to the gym. Gotta get that body tight. Text Message. Gives his Address and call when you’re leaving and I’ll give you directions. For reference I don’t need directions. I’m pretty smart. And ya know. Know how to use google maps. But I still like it. Looking out for me. Gentleman like. Well played Trucker Joe. Well played. Plus it literally could not be any easier to get to his place. Main highway. Turn left on main street. Right on other big street. First right. And park. I call I’m here. And he comes out to get me. Cute. Gentlemanly.
I’m wearing black gladiator sandals. Denim Miniskirt. White Rocawear-gold-chain-across-the-cleave-did-I-mention-lots-of-cleave-shirt. Normally this isn’t a daytime wear outfit. But like I’ve been saying with the weightloss. Nothing fucking fits anymore. And with this being the 4th date. I’m running out of clothes he hasn’t seen. Luckily A. this outfit looks smokin’ hot so it’ll balance any inappropriateness (though friends have assured me its fine) and B. I’m going shopping on Friday in Seattle so I’ll have new stuff soon. Plus it’s fucking hot. Like temperature. Muggy. Sticky. Hot and Sweaty. So at least. That’s another excuse. For a lacking of clothes.
We get inside the townhouse. chatter chatter chatter. And then he makes me sort of a liar. Because before the date he had asked me what I wanted to eat. And seriously there are like maybe 3 foods I don’t eat. And what’s the chance that when I said, I’m not a picky eater, anything’ll be fine that he’d pick one of the three (cilantro, ginger (on its own, I’ll eat it if it’s mixed in) and baby anything). Do you like lamb? he says. Fuck. lol. But the thing is. I’d eat it. Just to avoid having to say anything. Because it’s not a moral decision or anything. I just don’t really eat it. He can see this on my face. We laugh. Don’t worry he says I got chicken too. Too cute. I like a guy that is prepared.
So can you barely take it? I mean can you barely fucking stand it? All this chatter about food and shit and you’re reading and thinking like…get to the fucking good stuff chick! All in good time. All in good time *wink*.
Back on Track.
So we eat dinner. It’s good. Actually it’s really good. And healthy. Salad and BBQ. Yum. We sit on the couch. Side by side. Watching Hell’s Kitchen. We talk about our weekends. I mention playing video games with TheHell and Hubs and friend. I really do like video games. Especially anything Mario related. But alas. All his video games are killing related. ugh. lol. such a boy. Plus no lie. Video games. Not conducive to laying the mack down. And man I want him to lay the mack down.He just got a blu-ray player. And a stack of discs to match. Oh and PSizzle. I forgot to mention his place. Which is ballin’. Like seriously. He is bachelored out. Just Sayin’. I know that shit is just superficial and all that. But still. This ain’t no basement suite. Dude is rockin’ out. And I like it. Except the leather couches. Well technically I love leather couches. But not in the summer. Fucking sweaty sticky. In my mini skirt and chubby thighs. But then again. That’s why I brought a sweater. To sit on. Problem solved. So like I was saying. Blu-Ray. I pick one. Batman: The Dark Knight. Because honestly. When I saw it before. In the theatre. I had a migraine. So I missed a lot of it.It’s almost dark outside now. We turn off the lights. Watch the movie. Side by side. On the couch. Like fucking teenagers. Highschool kids. Like before you’d ever had your first kiss. Not even touching. So shy. The movie is good. Batman always is. But I spend a great deal of the movie thinking about. Well. Kissing him. Trucker Joe. Touching him. Our skin. Electric. Wanting to touch. Feel someone. Get passed that moment. Willing him to. Make a move. Make a move. Make a move.Time tick tick ticks past. The movie is good. But not better than kissing. I’m so nervous. I don’t know if I’m sweating because it’s like a thousand degrees. Or because I like him. Want him. Want to know if he really wants me. Am hanging on the shirt tails of a moment. Waiting. He smells really good. I excuse myself to go to the bathroom. And that’s when I see it. His axe deodarant. Nice. I knew it. And I don’t care what some people say. I fucking love it. Swoon. And there’s his cologne. I don’t know what it is. Something I’ve never seen before. But I’m not about to start examining it. I know it smells good though. So so good. Back downstairs I go. He paused the movie for me. So cute.
More moving watching. More breath holding. My arm slips down in between us. sorry I say. Fuck. Sorry? Did I just fucking apologize for touching him. Ugh. Loser. Sigh. Fuck. I swear. In between us. Is like the slowest moving quicksand in the world. Slowly pulling our arms. Our hands. Closer together. But it’s going so slow that you can barely notice. My arm slips or I move or something. Touch again. And pull away. Oh my god what am I doing. Just touch him already. Just touch me already. I can barely stand it. And then. It happens. Like that moment when you hold out your finger to a baby. Just kind of nudge it against it’s hands. And then suddenly. It latches on. My fingers. Dangle. Next to his skin. And then. Latch. And his hand is wrapped around mine. Touching. Touching. Touching. We’re finally touching.
I’m not sure hand holding has ever been so sexy. But it is. Drool. Sigh. Flutter. The movie plays on. I think. I haven’t been paying attention in quite awhile. I may. MAY. Have been too busy staring at his hands. His crotch. His every movement that might touch me. Our legs are stretched out onto the coffee table. I tilt mine up. His hand touches my thigh. Electric. Maybe he says something. Maybe he just shifts and it draws my attention. I can’t remember. But I look at him.
And we kiss. Soft. Sweet. Delicious. Delicious. And I won’t lie. It’s not perfect. It’s not flawless. But kissing never is. Except. That. Our kissing. Becomes flawless. Because unlike all the other “somethings” he’s paying attention. He adapts to me. He paces to me. He learns I like the bottom lip suck. He learns I like it soft and slow at first. He senses my tongue. He matches my lips. He answers the question about kissing. It’s not a white guy thing. It’s a bad kissing thing. And he slays it. It’s sexy. It’s sweet. It’s hot. It’s delicious. He’s got normal white boy lips. But that doesn’t matter. They’re soft. They’re skilled. They’re techniquelicious.
When we finally come up for air. The credits are rolling. Movie over. But not our night. Because the thing is. He’s got all night shifts this coming week. So he needs to stay up as late as possible to get his sleep schedule in check. Oh I’ll keep you up Trucker Joe. I got this. I got this.
We pick another movie from the stack. And for reference. He’s a total guy. Not that I’m complaining. Because I like my men to be men. But I’m Sayin’. They are all action flicks. So I pick one. I’ve never seen before. The Hurt Locker. We watch the movie. We’re taking a breather. Though our hands are still holding. Skin still touching. Hot. Sticky. Tuesday. Delicious.
The movie is. Okay. Little bit slow. About half way through. I hear his breathing. Get a bit. Deeper. Aww poor baby. So tired. He had a really long weekend. But I gotta do my job. So I shift a bit. Razz him a bit. For sleeping. Make him smile. Wake him up. Back to the movie. I’m starving. I’ve been drinking a ton of water. But it’s not really helping that much. It’s a little after 1am. I’m seriously hungry. My stomach is fucking growling. I tell him. More out of embarassment (in case he hears it) than out of wanting to eat something. Oh. Do you want something to eat. I have yogurt or special K bars. Can I just say how cute it is that he pays attention so well to what I say and what’s going on with me that he knows to have healthy snacks on board. I mean seriously. Golden. But I turn him down. Thank him. I’m going to hold off. Um. There’s also salad left, might be a bit soggy now *laughs*.
Naw. I say. I don’t want to have salad breath. I plan on having some more making out later. Sexy smile. He smiles back. Big smile. I’m hoping I’m getting points for balls, wit and cuteness. And then I’m upstairs to the bathroom. Hopefully he’s checking out my bum. On the walk down. I catch him staring at the ladies. Bouncing. As they tend to do. Down stairs. LOL. When I’m out in public. And can’t hold them down. That’s right baby. Take a good look. These ladies are for you.
We watch more movie. And then he makes his move again. And this time. It starts soft and sweet. And then moves right into hot and heavy. sigh. swoon. catch my breath. delicious. Now normally I wouldn’t get into the deets. But I promised. To make this one. A little less kid-friendly. A little less PG-13. And I’m going to. So if this is TMI. Stop reading now. But don’t get too excited. It doesn’t get X-Rated. I swear.
I like stages. Because the thing is. Once you bang. That’s it. And it’s wonderful. But you can’t go back. You can’t go back to just making out. Or just groping on the couch. And even if you did. Even if you were a couple just making out on a couch for one night. Because you had decided not to go any further. It wouldn’t be the same. Because you can’t unknow things. You can’t unsee each other naked. You can’t get that mystery back. You can’t get that feeling back. And that’s fine. Because banging. Is good stuff. But still. There’s no reason not to savor the stages. And I like stages. I like to savor. So that being said. With my love for stages. The fact that I didn’t even know FOR SURE that we’d be getting to first base on this date. And of course. Lindsay’s Law. I didn’t put on the sexy red lacies. Plus. I was wearing spandex shorts under my skirt. Because PSizzle I’m not the best at sitting like a lady. That and ya know. I had them pulled like up to my bra. To keep that tummy tucked. For as long as possible. LOL. Like spanks. Until it’s time to get naked. Which on this date. It wasn’t yet. Though I won’t lie. I had the lacies. In my purse. Just in case. I had a change of mind.
Back on Track.
So like I said. It’s hot and heavy. His kisses are my kisses. He tongue moves like my tongue moves. We’re twins. We’re mirrors. In sync when it’s right. Opposite when it’s better. He tastes like awesome sauce. He smells like boy and smiles. I’m melting. I’m melting. Swoon. I’m melting. He pounces further. His hand slides up my thigh. My inner thigh. I push it away. I giggle a bit. I tell him with my eyes. And a little bit my words. I like stages. He gets it. He’s not getting that tonight. I’ve got shorts on underneath my skirt I say. Because I don’t want him to think these are some form of granny panties. And then it just comes out. I say it. But I swear it was cute and sexy. I swear. When I said it. It sounded seductive and alluring. I put cuter panties on for that. When you’re getting some. You’ll know. I’ll have the sexy panties on. You should have seen his eyes light up.
But he’s fucking flawless. It doesn’t faze. He is unfazed. Moves back to outer thigh. He’s happy with what he’s getting. He likes me. He respects me. I feel it in his touch. I taste it in his mouth. I can feel his heart pounding in his chest. I. want. you you. I. want. you you. I. want. you you. My heart pounding back. I can feel it in my lady bits. Swoon.
I don’t really know how to describe what happens next. Because well. It’s not what I’m normally into. It strays from my regular fantasies (fix link). It’s the oddest thing. Mostly just odd for me. I think normal people dig this. But for me. For the Summer of Boys (fix link). When I just want my men to be men. My man to manhandle me. It’s novel. It’s new. That I liked it. Just Sayin’. We’re still on the couch. But he’s sort of moved. To like right in front of me. But he’s close. And we’re still kissing. And sure enough. He’s copping a feel with one hand. But it’s the other hand. The one that’s sort of behind my head. That I’m thinking about. Because it’s not all mixed up in the curls. It’s not going in for a tug. It’s not controlling. It’s. It’s. It’s.
Supportive. Like. He’s got me. He’s just totally got me. Like I could just let go completely. And he’s got me. My head in his hands. Strong. Man. Hands. And it’s the sweetest thing. And sexy too. Sweet and sexy. That he’s got me. Wow. This from a “something” is interesting enough. But that I like it. That’s a whole other thing.
And then we’re back to hot and heavy. I figure it’s time to start a little exploration of my own. Especially since no lie. I really enjoy he’s made no attempt to get my hand to certain places. Boys. Take note. In the long run. You’re going to get so much more. If you don’t rush me. I’m guessing I’m not the only chick this is true for. Just Sayin’. So my hand moves. Down his chest. Till I hit waistband. And then I play with it a bit. Draw a line around this edge. Then a line that way. And then down. Not inside. I’m keeping to my stages.
Because I’ve learned. That once inside. It’s hand job time. LOL. And I’m preserving my stages. There will none of that tonight. What he’ll pay for in blue balls tonight. Will be rewarded in the future. So I move my hand.
I should mention. That. Garbage Man was not huge. Frankly. Just average. Intelligence Officer was above average in length but just so so in girth. Twitter Guy was a total fail all around. Lindsay’s Law was too. So you can imagine. Now that I’ve got this guy. That I kinda like. But who’s been taking it slow. I’m worried. Like really worried. That he is. Well. Going to well. Disappoint. And I know size isn’t everything and all that. But still. I was fucking terrified. That mother nature would not have bestowed upon him. The things that I like. Girth. Length. Just Sayin’. Plus. Even if size is not an issue. What if he turns out like Linsday’s Law and even when hard. Is never really. Hard.
Back on Track.
So like I said. I move my hand. Down. On the outside. But down. And my fears. So. Definitely. Unfounded. There is no need for concern. I assure you. I. Assure. You. I practically yelled out touchdown! Okay well I didn’t. But. I thought it. So while he explored my lady lumps. I watched the trailer. The preview. The coming attractions. I’m saying. I’m very excited to see this movie. His Movie. Like. I’d stand in line over night. The movie poster is that good. Just Sayin’.
This goes on for quite awhile. But somewhere around 230am we come up for air. Or more. I come up for air because if we don’t. I’m pretty sure a bad decision is in the mix. And by bad. I don’t mean fatal or anything. But like I said. I like stages. I want stages. I want to go slow with Trucker Joe. I want to enjoy this. So I call it a night. Time for me to go I say. And he says I’ll walk you out. I think he means. Like to the door. But he doesn’t. He means to the car. Swoon. This nice guy will definitely not be finishing last with me, Just Sayin’. He’s racking up the points left and right. He opens my door. And then. More kissing. Sexy in the street kissing. Can’t wait till next time kissing. Okay well just gimme a call I say. He waits. Makes sure the car starts. Makes sure I get off okay. I do. And I spend the whole drive home. Beaming. Giddy. Beaming. Swooning. Awesome Saucing.