Sex with the ex

My ex came round the other night to pick up the last of his belongings which has been a somewhat cathartic experience for me and an overly sentimental one for him.
Two hours after the agreed time of 8.30pm he shows up at my door. (i hate people being late – a fact he knows and abuses) Off to the loft to plunder through old boxes and after half hour or so I decided to leave him to it and to read in bed until he had finished.
He took this as a sign to sit at the top of the stairs right beside my bedroom door and talk to me for another half hour. Finally he gets the hint when I ask for him to lock the door and post his keys through the letter box on the way out. Firm but necessary.
The next morning I wake with a jolt 20 minutes before my alarm. The jolt is a near orgasm in my sleep. Normally I would relish this dream and attempt a return to it but to my horror the man in the dream was my ex and what’s worse, it wasn’t normal straightforward sex it was nasty, doggy style, anal sex!
Where the hell did that come from?!
I can clearly see why my ex would make an appearence in my subconsious after that evening but what’s with the bum fun?
A call to O and a shower was promptly required.
xoxo

Ooops i did it again

Clearly I don’t learn from my mistakes… or as I’d like to call it “little lapses in my judgement”
I went out on Friday night with O and got very very tiddly indeed. We were ignoring the previously blogged about elephant in the room and having a right old laugh. O was not coming back to mine that night, so I was rather annoyed at the lack of sex that I would be having that evening.
Finding myself twitchy from the wine and public displays of affection I decided that my office would be a viable pitstop for a quickie before carrying on with the evening.

As expected nobody was there and keeping all the lights off, I slipped my keys into the lock and gave it a quick turn so no one could come in. I am a genius!

I led O up the spiral staircase, shut the door and well you can assume the rest.  I took advantage of not having any neighbours within earshot and allowed myself to really let go. It was amazing.

With O’s head buried into my neck I didn’t hear the bang. He heard it and his head shot up, I thought he was trying to make me scared so ignored him and didn’t react at all. That changed when suddenly light came streaming through the glass window.

Fuck.

So there we are, naked as the day we were born with somebody walking around in the office. I have never ever been so freaked out. Trying desperately to put my clothes back on as quickly as possible I managed to get my tights inside out with the socks stuck at the bottom and I had no knickers on… I should also point out that the bang we heard earlier on also coincided with O orgasming.  So you can imagine that putting tights on in this situation was not easy. Dress on, shoes on, its now that I see my bra on the floor – which I promptly stuff down the side of the couch. I am immediately thankful that my boobs are so small that it rarely makes any difference whether I’m wearing a bra or not. I am then secondly thankful that I took O upstairs instead of downstairs where I took the last guy and if I had, we would have been immediately visible to whoever was roaming around the office!

Now, how to play it. I decided I’d pretend that I was showing O what I had been working on that day. So I opened the door, wiped the sweat off my top lip and very loudly and convincingly stated “Yeah, I’ll just see who’s downstairs then I’ll show you my other film I’ve been working on” (I took drama as a child, I knew it would pay off one day).

Breath in. Downstairs I go.

Firstly, I saw my keys on the floor and recognised it as the source of the bang, obviously my genius streak to turn the key in the lock so nobody could get in didn’t quite pan out!

More deep breathing. I wander down the hall and there I find the nasty intruder. I walk in with a speech prepared and I’m faced with a simple “Are you done then?”

I had to laugh. It was the best of a bad situation. It was a male colleague who I’ve known for a few years. Also I know he’s good at keeping secrets and we were able to have a bit of a laugh about it and he has vowed to never say a thing again. I just don’t know how I’m going to look him in the eye tomorrow.

Will I never learn?

Elephant in the room

It was all going so well. O was nearly moving out of the flat he shared with his ex and we were finally going to be a proper couple that do normal things. My patience would pay off and all would be straightforward and easy.

I should have known it couldn’t last.

O has to move away for work. When he broke the news to me he had only just found out himself so was still in a state of aggh “I don’t know what I want to do” mode. This is huge deal for his company and there is absolutely no question of him not accepting the contract. Even though he claims he may not take it – I know he will and the thought of ending it had not even crossed my mind.

Unfortunately, O cannot say the same.

When I posed the question of what this meant for us he went quiet and said that realistically he thought it would be the end. A lump took up residence in my throat.

The reason being that when I say he’s moving away I mean he’ll no longer be 15 minutes away but an hour and a half away. Hence the shock, this is not what I consider a long distance relationship, an ‘LDR’ is living in different countries not the next county over and that, at least to me, does not mean the end of a relationship.

Why is it so black and white to some people? Am I only good girlfriend material if I’m local? Screw the fact that the guy says he’s hopelessly in love with me. We’ll forget that he’s told his friends I’m the ‘one’.

But. I am giving him the benefit of the doubt. When I questioned my friends on what to do next, I got a resounding play it cool line and I downright refuse to do this. I am not a game player and I am in way to deep to pretend that I don’t like the guy. Now is not the time to withdraw and protect myself by acting like I don’t care when actually I do.

S0 for now we are still together but despite what happens next, whether we give the not so long distance relationship a go, I’m worried the damage has been done. How can I rely on someone who would give up so easily?

And that’s why there’s a big elephant in the room. We’re acting like nothing has happened. Last night we had an amazing evening and the elephant managed to hide for the night but it emerges during the days and shows no sign of leaving.

Balls. It’s never straightforward, is it?

Undies: grundy or otherwise

I hate his underwear. Hate, hate, hate it.

Whilst my own can’t be described as the most erotic, sexy or always ready for a public showing, it is at least quite attractive and if I was in any form of accident I would never be ashamed of various doctors seeing me in all my glory. It’s something that my mother beat into me…

“Honestly, you’re not still wearing that bra? What if you were in an accident? What would people think?”

to which I would respond…

“Well mother dearest, I would hope that if I were in such a horrific accident that all my clothes were torn off and I was left in just my underwear then I think I would be more concerned with whatever managed to leave me in that position.”

Anyway back to my underwear, I have a mixture of saucier pieces and cute briefs, with the occasional matching set thrown in. There is of course the blatant pre-coital underwear that nobody aside from Dita Von Teese would wear on a daily basis. O has yet to see these. I shall save those for the time when he has forgotten that the little glint in my eye and subtle raise of my eyebrow means I want to have sex. Now.

Above all of this, my underwear, every single piece, has been bought with my own money. O can not say the same. His mother is responsible for his boxers. Now there is nothing offensive about his underwear, they are clean and in good condition, they are not thong like or those hideous ‘comedy’ boxers, its just, they look like they were bought by his mother.

Maybe that’s the only reason I don’t like them, I could treat him to some nicer pairs (why do we say ‘pair’ when it’s just the one?) but I would just be another woman who was buying his underwear and I really think that a 31 year old should be doing that himself.

Either way, it’s no dealbreaker. His mum may buy the undies but thankfully, she doesn’t control the man in them, that would have been a dealbreaker!