Bitchicisms

Way back in college, there was this one guy, A, who everyone wanted.

There aren't a lot of straight men around, so anyone who even looked like a real man got noticed by all the girls.

But A was different. He got noticed by everyone, girls, guys, even the homosexual professors. He was a force of testosterone in a college full of artsy men with predominantly limp wrists. At the height of his existence, everyone just wanted to fuck him. I guess it was his light brown milk chocolate color, his thick wavy hair, boyish good looks and his mystery. He was of average height, and his body was not super muscular or cut, but he had strength. And his trim, fit frame looked as sleek as a panther's.

He was silent. Smoking quietly while reading a huge-ass Ayn Rand novel. And he was in a band. And he was smart.

I'd tried flirting with him a couple of times in college. But me being the awkward fat kid (sometimes I still am. I remember all the jokes and half-veiled insults thrown my way by all the people I knew, especially those of the people who ended up being my friends [more on that in other posts]) who until 2 or 3 years ago had no regular interaction with boys, it came to nothing.

Until now.

I went with a couple of friends to this bar that the entire triumvirate (H, V, O) frequent. We were already kinda drunk. And I was dressed kinda conservatively. I also was not in the mood for any H.

Most interaction with H was when he greeted us at the door and I gave him a hug. Then when I sat down, my skirt rode up and he pulled it down (trying to make me modest?).

Then A walks in.

My heart stops.

We say our hellos and our how-are-yous. He goes to the bar and I remain seated at the couch with my friends. I spent the next 3 hours looking at A's back wondering if I should go over and talk to him.

Then he comes over.

I was otherwise occupied when suddenly he was there and I automatically scooted over so he could sit beside me. He brought his beer and he apologized for not coming over earlier. He spies a pop-psych quiz book with me and he asks me to quiz him.

We talk and joke, and his hands start touching me, testing the boundaries. A says, "You know, I really wanted to get to know you in college, but you had walls." And we proceeded to dismantle those walls then and there.

At this point DM was already asleep and her friend B offered to take her home so I wouldn't have to leave (considerate B is a prince, who noticed that I was going to score).

DM's stuff were in my car (yes I have car privileges now, and a driver, more on that later) so I told them we'd just get that and they can take a cab. A got his bill. I told him not to cos I was coming back we were just getting DM's stuff from my car. He insisted on going out with us, said he wanted some "air" (I've heard that before). Before we left I assured V I was coming back as we hadn't paid the bill yet. He just acknowledged that with a nod (V still hasn't really spoken to me since he got a gf).

So we all went outside. I went to the front seat. DM and B got her stuff from the backseat, and A stood nearby to wait patiently.

Then all of a sudden H was there.

H asked, "Are you leaving? Are you leaving?" Then not content with waiting for an answer, he turned to A and asked him, "Is she leaving?"

"I'm not leaving, I'm coming back inside," I say. Perplexed that we were playing this scene. I wondered whether he was scared that I was gonna leave without paying. Or whether he had anything important to say. But then, V knew I was coming back so...perplexed.

So H goes back inside and DM and B leave. Then I was alone with A. We were talking about something. I guess he said something like, "I really wanted company tonight, and I didn't expect it was gonna be you. But I'm happy it is." Then we kissed. It was sweet and brief. Soft lips and a little tongue. Lower stomachs tentatively seeking each other. After he breathed in my ear, "Take me home."

(Here comes the embarrassing part.) I told him I couldn't. Cos I had the car and the driver was a potential witness. So we went back inside.

My drink was waiting for me and we got to talking again. I asked him why he wanted to get to know me. "Something about the shape of your lips," A replied. Then we kissed.

Fortuitously my mother send me an SMS saying she needed the car and driver early the next day. So I sent the car home. A and I left shortly after that.

A and I were talking, and we were joking. Rehashing old times, discussing his angst, and both our walls. Then he entered a motel. And we got into our room. And I was pretending to calmly watch TV as he took off his shoes. Then he leaned over and kissed me again.

Do you know what fantasies taste like when they're fulfilled after 4 or 5 years? They taste like champagne. Sweet and bubbly and it tickles your tongue.

The sex was good, and he was sweet. At one point he just looked at my face, and watched me, his fingers caressing my cheeks.

And I've never heard someone scream "Oh God" so loud before.

His skin is chocolate. Not an ugly mark on it. His body still trim and fit. His face is pretty enough to be a girl's.

After, as we were waiting for the bill, I caught A looking at me with this smile on his face. And I asked him why. He said, "Is there anything wrong with smiling?"

Before we parted ways A said something to the effect of, "I wonder when I'm gonna see you again? I'm already looking forward to it."

I just smiled in reply.

This is a short list of things I've said, which left me wondering what the hell I was thinking when I said them:

1) Stop calling me, I already got what I wanted from you (yes. I did say that. To a guy named K. It was a while back. And it was kind of appropriate [I had just broken up with my bf and hence, was unfeeling]).

2) Men are so easy. Yes. It's true! When it comes to sex anyway.

3) All you want to do is live voyeuristically through my life. I said this recently (or something like it) to a friend. It was getting annoying how fixated she was on my life. How she kept pressing for details of my sexual activities. Downright freaky.

4) Please please gain 5 kilos. Said it to H. Because he is alarmingly skinny (think Nicole Richie). Hey, I had this inner rule I wouldn't sleep with him til he gained, but he-hey I break my own rules.

5) Sorry, but, you're not exactly gorgeous. I believe I've said this several times. Mostly to women. Who think they are all that. And diss guys. Oh well.

6) Did I break you? Again, H. I thought I did break him.

7) Kangaroo tayo. I think I said it to V. :))
(Kangaroo n./v. - from the root word kang, as in: kang kang, kantot....meaning sex)

8) Would you like to rape me? Sadomasochistic me. Got no takers though. It was a bad time. I was depressed. One of them was shocked and concerned. The other disappointed that he was depressed too and wasting the opportunity.

9) Please shut up. Vainly told to H as he kept on yapping. Please please just shut the fuck up forever.

10) Pa-virgin ka. Said it to V. And he was!

Ok well, he's not.

Despite all the sordid and evil things that happened to me yesterday (beginning with tripping over own feet while jogging/running/walking and ending with finding new born puppies crawling blindly underneath our vehicle) H is still...dead.

Ok, so I can't jog for 3 days (due in part to twisted/swollen ankle and partly due to dental surgery). I can't smoke, can't eat fish, can't eat anything hot and can't drink using a straw, for 3 days.

So I was randomly messaging people. And of course some people replied. Either to taunt me for my misfortune, offer words of encouragement, or wonder out loud how a full grown adult manages to trip over her own feet while jogging, twist her ankle, scrape and bloody her knee, get glasses and get dental surgery all the same day. It was just my luck I guess.

But one person remained silent. One person who would've mattered. One fucking person that I'm supposedly dating/seeing/sleeping with (hey asshole, if we're sleeping together, why aren't we sleeping together?).

H. Yes that's right. H has disappeared. Literally. Though I said I'd give up on him. I hadn't expected such deafening silence to meet my "friendly" messages. Now I know the wonders not having sex will do. It makes a man sweeter, more affectionate, and generally less of an asshole.

Once a man gets it, it all changes. Yes H has sort of been revealed to be a dickhead. Despite all my other posts that he is a nice, honest, open, though not commitment ready, man.

I officially declare that I am hurt, offended and pissed off. Especially since I know he has load as he missent a message to a girlfriend of mine. And yes, he's going out again, it was in the goddamn message.

I guess he doesn't give a shit mostly. Or didn't feel particularly alarmed. Or maybe he was just busy/had no load/lost his phone...etc...etc...etc...

Fuck it. I'll go for...he's an asshole.

...that I can't keep on liking someone I don't and can't trust, cos I'll only end up paranoid and weird in the end.

...that my tolerance for intolerance is low.

...that H has got to go.

...that I have to grow up sometime.

Business Time by Flight of the Conchords

My new favorite song...It just tickles me pink.

Aww yeah
That's right baby.
Girl, tonight we're gonna make love.
You know how I know, baby?
Cause it's Wednesday.
And Wednesday night is the night that we make love.
Monday's it's my turn to cook.
Tuesday night's the night that we go and visit your mother,
but Wednesday night is the night that we make love.
Cause everything is just right
conditions are perfect.
There's nothing good on TV.
Conditions are perfect.
You lean in close and say something sexy like,
"I might go to bed I've got work in the morning."
I know what you're trying to say baby.
You're trying to say,
"Oh, yeah. It's business time."
It's business time.


It's business.
It's business time.
That's what you're trying to say
you're trying to say
let's get down to business
it's business time.

It's business.
It's business time.
Next thing you know we're in the bathroom brushing our teeth.
That's all part of it, that's foreplay.
Then you go sort out the recycling.
That's not part of it but it's still very important.
Then we're in the bedroom.
You're wearing that ugly old baggy t-shirt from that team building exercise you did for your old work.
And it's never looked better on you.

Oh, team building exercise '99.

Oh, you don't know what you're doing to me.
I remove my jeans but trip over them cause I still got my shoes on.
But I turn it into a sexy dance.
Next thing you know I'm down to just my socks
and you know when I�m down to just my socks what time it is�
it's time for business.
It's business time.

It's business.
It's business time.
You know when I'm down to just my socks
it's time for business
that's why they call it business socks.

It's business.
It's business time.
Oh.
Ooh, makin love.
Makin love for two.
Makin love for two minutes.
When it's with me you only need two minutes,
cause I'm so intense.
Two minutes in heaven is better than one minute in heaven.
You say something like,
"Is that it?�"
I know what you�re trying to say.
You're trying to say,
"Aww yeah, that's it."
Then you tell me you want some more.
Well I'm not surprised.
But I'm quite sleepy.

It's business.
It's business time.
Business hours are over. Right, right.

It's business.
It's business time.

The lyrics aren't that accurate but I'll edit it later.

It's Over.

Been reading Anne Rice's The Witching Hour lately. And I can totally relate to the part where Rowan says it's not true that women don't find men's bodies beautiful.

It's common knowledge that men are visual and like looking at women's bodies. A woman body is a beautiful thing. With all it's luscious curves and soft skin. In fact, I like looking at women's bodies.

Men's bodies though...damn...Rowan goes on to describe what she likes about men's bodies...and just now (as I saw O raise his arms and I got a glimpse of his thick strong fingers) I realized how much I agreed.

Men are just physiologically so similar yet so different from women. It's just something worth noting.

One thing that I adore about men is a hairy chest...or hair on their happy trails (the hair that starts from the belly button and crawls down to join their pubic hair), or hairy legs, hairy arms...I don't know why...but I like hairy men. My beloved ex N was Chewbacca-hairy. I loved rubbing my soft, smooth, hairless skin against the soft delicious tangle of hair on his chest. I loved how it felt against my nipples.

I loved their thick strong thighs and especially those with good, clean, pretty feet. I once grinded against my ex's knee...and for some reason it was very very intense.

Their hair is also very different from ours. See, I love playing with hair. Even though I myself have short hair, I like playing with hair. My own, either on my head or the ones that inevitably grow on my pussy. Or other people's hair.

Guys turn me on. V had curly hair...perfect to run my fingers through. Whereas H has long straight hair, hair I love to pull on. When guys shave their hair off...that's a different thing though. The feel of that taut smooth skin. Goddamn.

Their eyes. Just something about that. Honestly, it takes quite a few tries at sexual congress before I am completely 100% in sexual trust with the person. During sex I'd rather close my eyes and savor that tight, full sensation as I squeeze my partner's cock. But when I do open my eyes, I'd like to see his face and his eyes staring at me.

H likes to watch. He admitted that. As my eyes rolled back and I felt the Big O coming on he watched me. I opened my eyes just at that crucial point and I saw him. And I came.

V was the same. I was coming and moaning and groaning and screaming and I opened my eyes and I stared at him and we locked eyes until he came.

Hands turn me on. H has long thin spindly hands...V has big thick fleshy hands...They're both hands that has touched almost every part of my body, and the difference DOES make a big difference.

Shoulders. broad sturdy fleshy places I can grip and kiss and lick. Necks that arch upwards. Arms...ears...cheeks...lips.

All of it. The entire male package. Not just his cock and balls, or the cute bubbly fleshy ass. Not just the tiny almost shy nipples or that scrumptious man-smell that they give off...musky and oh so nice.

Men just turn me on. Especially when you take into consideration the way they look at me, the way they kiss me, the way they lick me and bite me and touch me and fuck me.

For all their faults, when men get it right they get it so right.

I have two new obsessions. Girls and Rape.

No, they don't have to be cosequential. They're just two things that have managed to penetrate my mind despite this blue funk I'm in.

Girls, well, that was fairly recent. I thought my bicuriosity died already, what with the disappearance of adventurous girl friend E. Then as I was wallowing the other day, friend from Tx A suddenly sends me a link to a Shane (The L Word) clip on YouTube. I was mesmerized.

Then I saw two college girls from Miriam making out. Damn.

I've been fixated on this whole girl on girl scenario thing for the last couple of days. When I see hot chicks I just...god...feels like there are fingers crawling on my skin. Makes me shiver yet also tickles me deep inside, like a curl of fire licking my insides.

Women now...when they're especially hungry...and the fires are stoked in their bellies and they just want to ravage each other. Its so...fucking erotic and beautiful and just freaking hot...passionate. Cos it really is all about pleasure. They don't have to worry about anything. There's all that pretty skin and that smell of women...That sweet, innocent, clean smell. And that hair, that soft pretty hair I can't get enough of. Pink tongues and round nipples all perky and tasty and soft breasts and thighs...

Another thing is rape. I'm looking for someone to rape me. It's actually quite an urgent desire. I just want someone to try. I feel I need to be exorcised in a violent, strong way. I need to be punished and taken like a woman needs to be taken by a man at least once in her lifetime. I need to be forced. I want to submit. I want to be taken. Roughed up. I need to feel this.

I remember a time before when I was actually roguhed up in this manner. It was probably my ex. That big hot bastard. Fucked me, used me, mauled me. I think he even left bruises. It was inevitable, how hard he gripped me and handled me.

It was something I wanted. Something I've been craving ever since. Yes some men will be rough when asked, especially when they sense I like it. The whole ass spanking, shoulder biting, rough growling questions. That's a given. But that's not all I want.

I want to be owned. I want to be used...I want to submit. I want to feel mortal. To feel fire and get burned by that flame. I want passion. I want violence and testosterone and strength and gripping hands. And yes, I want to be punished. I dunno what for. I just want it.

It's an ache and an unfulfilled fantasy. The last one that came close to fulfilling it was V. Except he knew nothing about psychological torture. About torturing someone with pain and pleasure and taking them to new heights of sensation. He doesn't know how good it would be if he delayed it, his and my gratification, until it became pain.

He knew a little. Mostly he was not evil enough to see it through. He teased me once. I ended up sucking his cock and he had to throw me down on the bed.

I want to be raped. Preferably but not necessarily by a woman.

Yes I'm thinking of Shane. And of this girl I sat beside with one night when I was commuting. I got so distracted I got off at the wrong stop. She shivered my timbers.

I want to be scorched. I guess I want to feel life. And I want to fulfill some of my dreams. Be less afraid. Mostly I am really really horny. And I want to be disciplined by someone as soft as me. Yes Shane. Or Marina. When she seduces Jenny in the first episode of the first season of The L Word.

I haven't been ok these past few days. I've been very very far from okay.

I haven't been able to sleep well since I found out about this. So understandably I've played hooky...I've looked for Valium to help me sleep. And yes apaprently I still look horrid.

I have had to rethink my life. All of it. Not just the parts which don't make sense but even the parts that make sense.

I've tried not to burden anyone with my crap. Mostly C knows about it, but I don't wanna intrude too much into his life (something I think I'm already guilty of at this point). Friends who are also grieving have no idea how heavy this is hitting me (I have a lot of masks).

Even the guy I kind of like, H, didn't really know about it until recently.

He contacted me to apologize for being too busy to talk. And he asked how I was. I was honest. I told him that I wasn't so hot. Then came the stories. And his explanations. I told him he didn't need to explain. I need comfort and he's not available to give any to me. I'll just go away.

I don't wanna be here when he turns around and comes back. I wanna be far far away. I just feel like, I need someone to be here for me. Not just someone I'll always be there for.

Yes aside from the Nirvana song....

Everyone has a dominate and subordinate side. There are people who are power players, key movers and shakers who want to submit and then thre are the tame, quiet "nice" people who somehow feel the need to dominate and control.

I feel the need to be dominated, subjugated to ones will...to follow...to be controlled.

I won't make any psychological guesses as to how or why I got this urge...this feeling...this yearning. All I know for certain is that I've always been a fan of violence, from the time when WWE was still called World Wrestling Federation, I've practiced chokeslams on my brother. I like action flicks and blood doesn;t gross me out.

I'm known to be very touchy, either in a sweet affectionate way or in a brutish, teasing way. I like pain. Inflicting it or feeling it. Of course when the bites are too hard I do speak up. Some men almost chew off my nipples when they get too excited.

Everyone has a rape fantasy as I once told H. Everyone. Then I told hm he was too nice to be a rapist. Of course I didn't tell him that V was ideal for a rapist. A fantasy rapist.

When V forcibly popped my anal cherry, it was a mixture of force and caresses. And when he noticed I didn't stop crying, he pulled out rolled me over, took a look at my tear streaked face and fucked my pussy. He did it hard and fast too...

I realized that crying (within reason) during sex was pleasurable after a fight with my ex. A fight about sex, wherein he ended up on top of me even when I told him not to. My mind said no but my body said yes (in all cheesy effect).

I found another ideal fantasy rapist last week. Someone who's bigger than me, someone who gets rough when he's horny, and a stranger whom I don't have to see ever again.

It was a pick up, a hook up, a one night stand. Just a little hoochie-coochie, hanky-panky, oh-baby-fuck-me action between two virtual strangers who met one night/early morning.

His name, I believe, was J. I'm not sure though. The minute he said his name it slipped my mind. He caught me at the bar, took me to the dance floor and asked if I wanted to "get some air"...obvious wasn't it?

It was a club one early early Saturday morning, coming from Greenbelt. I was with my high school friend M and her boyfriend D. We decided to go to this bar P which we had never been to. God I loved it. It's such a sinful place for sinners like I.

So I left with J, who asked me if I wanted to go someplace so he "can kiss you better...". Oh yes. I'm game.

The indentations he left overrode the dents that came from H. And I gotta say, fucking with a semi-cute stranger with a good bod is a helluvalot different from sleeping with a skinny, semi-cute boy you like. Both have equal merit.

J did make me come. Twice. And yes. It was good.