Here's the "other story" of "that's another story"....
Friday nite, I go on a meet and greet. This is a guy I've been corresponding with via email and some phone conversation since about October. We've kinda tried to get together before, but it just hadn't panned out: he wasn't available when I was, I wasn't when we was. Sometimes, I must admit, I didn't feel like being available.
So Friday, I did. I was scared. He'd seen me and I, him, in photos. Flesh and blood is an entirely different issue. I'm gorgeous, beautiful, pretty, cute, delicious (lol), depending on who's doing the description, but it's still all up to personal interpretation. He could have interpreted me as ugly [the horror!!].
I even went out shopping for something new, different to wear. Nothing fancy, just something new. Who am I kidding?? I wanted to shop anyway.
That night, he's running late and I'm running late. I get there before he does; he calls and says this L.A. traffic has got him, but he's coming. Since we're meeting near businesses, I take my liberty and stroll through my local record/video store. I buy a three DVDs, one of which is The Red Shoes.
He calls and says he's made it to the area, so I go meet him and we drive over to a walking spot. Here is where we actually see each other in person, outside vehicles. We hug, say our compulsory greetings and begin to walk. Casual conversation is had, and we gaze at the ocean and homes we aspire to one day attain. We sit on benches a couple of times and talk. Once we cuddled up, that is, he sat in front of me, leaning against me to brace me from the chilled breeze. It was nice and warm, nothing lewd or inappropriate. Good, neutral conversation.
We walk back. Mind you, while we've talked a lot, it's been nothing too personal. So there's a vibe that a connection is there, we just haven't crossed it yet. He even smacked me on my ass as I was ascending some stairs. Awkward is the exchange before a kiss, even if it's perfunctory. We arrive back at our cars and sort of stand there. We hug goodbye, but we're still both standing, waiting. I feel a kiss in the air, but it's not come down and grabbed either of us. So he walks me to my car, sees me inside, and kisses me on the lips. Nice lips. Then he closes the car door, but it bounces open: HE CLOSED THE DOOR ON HIS THUMB!!! We chuckle (he's not seriously hurt) and he closes the door again, with all body parts clear of the door. We've said we'll see each other again.
BUT I'M HORNY. I was horny when I met up with him. I wouldn't have had sex with him on that first date: it wasn't that kind of date. But we could have done some really wet, deep kissing. It wasn't that kind of date either.
Needing the release, I call my friend. This man is married. I've known he was married all along since we met, BUT the attraction overrode my sense. My friend and his buddy were trying to get together at one point. They never did: we did. The passion when we get together is...well, it's just lust. Lust is good, lust feels good.
My friend is doing his regular Friday night activity and I ask if he's willing and able tonight. He is. I go to meet him.
We hang out at the bar, among friends, one of which he'd brought with him. He asks his other buddy if he could give his "carpooler" a ride home. So he's all set to leave with me.
Not wanting to alert private eyes, watching him, he leaves ahead of me. Ah...the M-E-T-H-O-D of modern love, er, lust.
I waited 10 minutes and left after him. A man who's got it bad for me follows and tries to convince me to give him some time. He looks dejected that I don't, but I've got to go get mine!!
My friend and I had agreed that we're meeting at my place. I race home. He's not there. I call and the call goes straight to voice mail. Call again: voice mail.
I'm PISSED and HORNY. Fuck him!! No, really, I wanted to FUCK HIM!!
So I work one off for myself and go to sleep.
Today
I call him and ask, rather demand, to know what happened. I emphasize that I'm pissed. He says he's equally pissed: his buddy ("carpooler") ratted him out. Apparently carpooler called his own wife to pick him up even though the good buddy was going to give him a ride home. So Friend's wife calls him questioning his whereabouts. Since she's up and waiting, he's got to go home.
I remind him that it's my birthday today. He asks what I want and I tell him I want an MP3 player. However, he, personally, could substitute and will he be able to see me tonight? He says yes and we'll talk later. This conversation leads to the title of this entry.
My walls are throbbing so hard at the mere thought of his thickness, hardness, thrusting against me.
Call me wrong, call me a whore. Right now, I'm horny.
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