Entries from November 2011 ↓

He semlls lke testosterone and beer. His arm is thrown across me, some of his body weight holding me down. It’ very early and I’m not at all sleepy, but I wouldn’t move for the world. I lay there, breathing him in, quietly. Hours pass before he wakes and fucks me again. This time is even rougher, he’s still drunk and all power, force, release. I get up afterwards to clean up, and I”m bleeding from my anus. Not enough lubrication (he’d tried, a little, using my own wetness, but it didn’t help much).

When he’d arrived, he walked in, stripped me, bent me over and fucked me there in the hall. I’d never fucked in that position before; it’s a little awkward and I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to stay bent. Turns out yes, that’s what he wanted, and it was just fine. This is why I work out, right? to stay strong and flexible so I can fuck firemen?

I’m in his arms again after the second go-round and I eventually drift off to sleep, still breathing him in, all quiet in the world.

When we wake in the early morning, he fucks me again, this time pulling out just in time. I wonder if he remembers that he came inside me, twice, last night. My ass sure does.

I take a quick shower even though I’m going to the gym. As much as I’d like to revel in his scent, I doubt my trainer does.

And for the record, again: I really like this man.

yep. that’s all. fuck

Fuck he’s 27. 27! Fuck.

I looked up an old friend and we had dinner and it was nice and I wanted him to see how great things were for me now and it went too well and he kissed me on the lips good night and asked me out on a date and all I wanted was for him to tell our mutual friends that I was doing well.

The holidays are approaching and being alone for them makes me sad, again and always. It’s been 3+ weeks since I’ve seen G. and I know as the holidays arrive I’ll see him even less. The beautiful boy will fade, everyone will focus on whatever else they need to go do and I’ll be here, with my coupled-up friends, alone again. I am, truly, devastated. I never once thought I’d end up alone in life, and my little heart may very well break from the tragedy.

So a couple of days after the birthday date, C. texts and I come dashing home from Soho to meet him, on his way back from Brooklyn. Oh! beard grown out from days on vacation, he looks cuter and older. Like the other day, immediate molestation in the hallway. I’m naked before I know what’s what. But joy! I come with him easily, effortlessly. He comes in my mouth. We lie there and chat for a while, fuck a second time. He’s brought condoms this time so he doesn’t have to worry about pulling out. I don’t enlighten him to the fact that it doesn’t matter. He’s a complete knucklehead but I really do like him.

So Bad Annie had a birthday date with the beautiful boy and it was wonderful and horrible. He arrived and oh! so adorable. Immediate molestation in the hallway. He said, early on: “I have a confession to make. I’ve really missed you.” I do so completely adore him.

We had sex for a long time. He really wanted me to give in, give up, to be brutal with him. He wanted me to hit him, to love him, to come and make him come. I’m really just not that girl. I’ll do anything — really. but I don’t have that emotional core he’s looking for, I just don’t. We fucked for four hours. I didn’t come at all. We fucked every possible way. He didn’t come until the very end when he basically masturbated with my assistance.

I don’t know if he loves me or is completely disappointed with me, or both. I felt like I’d let him down.

Bad Annie went on a second date with the chaste boy, ended up making out on his couch and then fled. Yes, I had a second date that evening with the beautiful boy, but it was more than that …. honestly, I think if he was just going to be another on the roster of lovers I don’t care about, I might have gone through with it. But he wants a girlfriend and I had a moment of thinking about that and I’m so not doing that with him. Sigh. I suck at breakups.

I attribute my longevity to date to my mother: without fear of her reaction, I’d have committed suicide long ago. So, thanks Mom. I love you!