This week has been a disaster for me, but what week hasn’t been? I have been spending most of my time locked in my room, trying to customize, perfect, and build content so I can transfer the site over to a new host. I am so fucking detail oriented and obsessive, especially when it is related to reading, writing, and, well, basically ANYTHING literary in general.
So last night I needed a break. I wanted to have a drink, or 4, and did not want to go solo. Blair Baby left Thursday to attend a family affair so I called Nathaniel. He didn’t answer the first try, which was unusual for him. I left him a voice mail and as soon as I hung up my phone rang loudly, playing “I will survive” startling the be-Jesus out of me. (Yes, I know. He even added the ring tone himself.)
I quickly answered the phone, “Hello? How are you babe?”
Slow, paced breaths.
“Nate! Are yo—”
“What do YOU need Jayde?”
Clearly he was pissed. I haven’t phoned, text or even emailed him for the past two weeks. I could see why his panties were in a bunch, I mean, I wouldn’t be upset myself but you Neurotypicals are an odd species. I, myself, am terrible at keeping contact with people. I just figured unless we have had some type of “lover’s quarrel” we were fine. So I made a mental note to try to keep in contact with him more often. (Shrugs) I just get sucked into a vortex and if you aren’t in bird’s view of me, I tend to, but hardly mean to forget about things.
I apologized profusely, and after about the 143rd“I’m so sorry!” And with a much anticipated, overly dramatic sigh, he caved. “Where to darling?” He asked.
“Vesper Bar, in about 20?”
“Deal, make it 35” he agreed, and we both hung-up then hung out.
At about a quarter after 10PM Nathaniel and I were borderline tipsy and drunk. Nathaniel strike a conversation with a well dressed gent in a sleek, shiny cobalt blue suit, ash blonde hair he slick back, and a tasteful pastel pink bow tie. When Brent strolled into the bar, I swear, every bar patron’s head turned in his direction. Each person he walked by, may it be male or female, their bras popped themselves loose and tee-pees had slowly emerged in place of every man’s groin.
(Laughs) Okay, a little too dramatic I suppose, but I am simply narrating in place of Nathaniel.
Brent made his way towards the empty chair beside mine and gave me a quick, flirtatious wink.
Nathaniel caught on so quick I didn’t even have a moment to respond. He pinched my side, HARD. (Not the good kind) Causing me to shoot out of the bar stool, which tilted my glass and split patron all over my glistening gold dress.
By the way, bitch move Nate!
I jumped out of my bar stool, gasping as the cold patron seeped through to my skin. I glared at Nate. In response, he threw on his Oscar-winning,theatrical persona and apologized repeatedly.
Rolling my eyes, I excused myself, went to the washroom to dry off.
Once done, and after taking a few long deep breaths, I headed back to the bar. Of fucking course Nate scooted over a stool to sit in mine. LOL OH okay, wanna play Queen? I’ll play queer…..
When I was but a few feet away, Nate pats the seat of the empty stool next to him and smirks devilishly. I curtsied, then plopped my plump round Asian ass on to the chair, formulating a diabolical scheme whilst maintaining a sassy, sweet poise.
I interrupted abruptly, cutting into their conversation and suggesting we do something daring. I soon discovered Brent was a Frenchman and from some unpronounceable, easily forgotten French village. He was in Vegas for business and, lucky him, it happened to be his first trip to the wonderful Americas.
The men stared at me, obviously confused, then turned at each other. Before Nathaniel could open his mouth to speak. I cut him off yet again. “OMG!!! I have a brilliant fucking idea!! Let’s take the car service to LA!?”
Nate narrowed his yes. He knew me well, and I suspected he may have caught onto my scheme. He turned his head, thinking for a moment, then nodded his head with a “Oh okay, I see where this is going”look in his eye.
Brent took a liking to my suggestion. “Oh qui qui, I love ze idea. I always wanted to see ze famous Los Angelesssss!” he exclaimed. Nate’s eyes narrowed again as he glared at me, but I squinted back with fierce, revenge seeking pleasure. The bar tab was taken care of, Concierge fetched, and before we knew it we were in the limo, off to yet another crazy adventure.
When the driver pulled out of the valet area, it hit me. X is in LA and LA means X, and….. Shit! Why did I allow myself to get so childish and plot revenge on an issue so trivial?! (Mind you, I did mention I was “borderline tipsy/drunkness” earlier; a few more cocktails after that and two bottles of Dom on the way there.)
I scolded myself for my impulsiveness. Last time X and I spoke we were not on good terms. He wanted space away from me, and he needed me to make a decision. I began thinking, I could go to LA and not announce my visit. But…No, I couldn’t lie to him. That would be equivalent to suddenly getting “donkey punched” during a passion filled fuck-a-ton. It was morally wrong. He has been so kind, gentle, loving and devoted. I didn’t want to number two on X’s list of demonic exs’ doppelgänger. I knew the painful abuse he suffered for 15 ought years married to the narcissistic antichrist who was his first wife. I didn’t want to be lumped in with that evil cunt. I must phone him and give him a heads up we are coming.
The trip there was okay. I swear the two boys were like blushing teen girls smitten and so deeply immerse in each other company. I tweeted and exchanged a few texts with X. He was polite but terse. I didn’t know to make of that.
Still trying to figure out X’s mood, I became aware of a tingling warm sensation that was slowly expanding through my body. What the hell? I looked at the blushing beauty queens, who seemed to be in a state of languid pleasure. Shit! Those two must be secreting so many pheromones with all their mushy gushy blabber that it infected me as well!. I had read about the phenomenon “Folie à deux” or “madness shared by two”, perhaps that is the source of this contagion. Even as I realized what was going on, I felt the warmth completely enmesh and cocoon me. Suddenly I felt invincible.
When we arrived in LA it was really late; half past 3. Most night venues close at 2am in LA due their alcohol time restriction. There are a few afterhours but those even close at 4am. I sent a text to X asking for a designated venue to meet. He asked to speak to whomever was driving, so I tapped the driver on the shoulder and handed him my phone. I know, it is an odd request but he is the only person I have ever trusted. And come on! I DO posses a vagina. The Vagina. Giver of female power, that which men try like hell to escape from during their first few minutes of life, and then try like hell the rest of the time to get back in. That most gorgeous to look at, tasty to lick, and fun as shit to fuck organ. But I think the model A prototype must have some defect that was overlooked at installation. All cognitive function related to maps, geography and/or directions gets overwritten by the Vagina Installation Firmware.
The driver hands back my phone. I take it, trying to nonchalantly ask him where X told him to go. Xaviar’s (the driver) accent was of Latin decent, and VERY dense. “I yam soory Meiss Hayde, X sayay it private. No tell you.”
That was no help. Why the hell did i even bother to learn broken Englest 101 when I taught English overseas?
Surprises give me anxiety. I never know how to react. What if the gist of anticipation creates unrealistic expectations? What if I am…. Amid my obsessive, over analytical processing, failing to notice the illuminating stone fountains, pristine wide driveway and perfected planted greenery.
Nate distracted me from my angst with their obscenely high shrieking of “Great Scott! I am surrounded by Justin Bieber’s underage groupies!” Argh! I peeked out the window and was wowed by the ornate, old world compound we had just entered. The architecture seemed to have a dab of French flair, and the ground were simply breath-taking. We parked near a Tuscan style building that, even this late, was flooded with lights. The driver parked at the entrance and opened the car door. Brent and Nate exited and I followed. As my foot hit the pavement, I looked up and saw X. I beamed.
Still drunk and apparently still contaminated with and added pheromones, I ran to him and attempted a romantic gesture that ended up coming off like a comedy stunt. I sprinted and jumped into him – HARD – knocking us both down. I was laughing so hard I started snorting and couldn’t stop myself. When I finally managed to contain my laughing, I turned towards X to make sure he wasn’t hurt. He was dusting his suit off with the help of this drop dead, absolutely stunning woman. Long medium brown hair with a tint of Autumn copper leafs. She was wearing a fitted bold blue dress with ankle brown vintage boots. A complementing paisley silk scarf, brown leather gloves and a knee-length, ivory wool pea coat. Her fucking curls were even perfect.
She was indeed awe-inspiring. Oh X! You know how to accommodate a lady. Prestigious Hotel in West Hollywood AND a delectable darling for dessert? Oh fucking yum! I quickly got myself off the ground and made a quick introduction. X finished dusting all the involved parties off and gestured for us to follow him to the room. My mind was racing the entire way up, How I just wanted to tear holes in her pantyhose, expose her the labia through her panties, and throw her down and devour her. I felt myself moisten as I began to imagine X behind me, thrusting his entire massive cock deep in me, his hands on my hips, pounding into my slippery wetness with audible force. I want her in my mouth and him in my cunt. Almost every hole filled……
Arghhh. Stupid gay pheromones are more potent than I thought. I began to think about my blog, and how far behind I was. That seemed to calm me down. Good.
When we finally entered the room, the Bieber Fever Twins were gawking over the vast suite. Two bedrooms (perfect), two and a half baths, huge balcony with overlooking LA’s twinkling lights, and blah blah blah. Crap that doesn’t make me horny.
X was standing in front of one of the bedrooms. Not to miss an opportunity to commit rape, I pushed him into the room then kept pushing until his knees hit the bed and he fell into the plush feather comforter. The hot girl, who I has just been introduced to, was named Kailee. I sensed her approach from where she had stood, and I turned around and she was standing above me, so beautiful, so innocent. I stood up and grabbed her by the back of her head, gripped my fingers in her soft brown curls, pulled her in and kissed her.
She was hesitant at first but, after only a few seconds she kissed back. I saw Nate roll his eyes and close the door as he left. And that was all the cue I needed. My pulse racing, I aggressively tugged and peeled off her garments, layer after hot, sweet, sexy layer until she was standing before me bare as the day she was born. I stepped back and studied her. A little chilly I see as I took in her nipples, tilted my head sideways and taking her in. She stood in front of me, not moving, but shaking in her thin, porcelain, doll-like nudity. She looks so fucking innocent, so sad, AND SO READY TO BE DEFILED!
I looked over to X, who was still on the bed, clothed. I couldn’t help but smile at his tussle hair and little boy smirk. Then I turned back to Kailee.
“I want you to listen carefully okay? I need you to be very good or I’ll have to punish you.”
She nods her head.
“Okay, help me undress X.”
She scurried over to him quickly, bent over him, and reached for his belt. I smacked her ass. She yelped.
“Get on your knees and take his pants off!” (Shit, now that I think about it, I am fucking batshit insane when I’m drunk! LOL)
She dropped to her knees and eagerly unbuckled his belt, then the buttons and finally (ZippPp). The sound of the zipper releasing his erected, throbbing cock made my pussy tingle and drip.
X stared at me with soft, warm eyes and a cool, subtle grin. I pulled my eyes away from him and tried to focus on the kneeling tramp—WTF?! Is she GENTLY licking his dick?! I snickered, reached over, and at the very moment she opened her mouth wide enough, I shoved her head into him. You could hear her choke as his manhood descended into her throat, inch by inch. I release her and she pulls back. Panting, and salivating, she looks up at me with hot desire in her eyes and a smile parting her saliva streaming mouth.
“MORE!” she whispers, ” I want more! Punish me! Please, I want his cock deep in my throat!!”
Huh. Didn’t expect that. “Sure,okay, fuck it” and I pushed her face down once again, forcing her to take all of him in her.
(There has been a fantasy of mine I have meant to try, but had never been able to. It seemed the time had finally arrived.) After a few more “punishments” I grabbed her by her hair and pull her mouth off of him with a quick yank She stopped immediately and stood on her knees her eyes telling me she would obediently stay until I said otherwise.
I undressed quickly and climb over and straddled X. I hadn’t fucked him since my birthday and seeing him so close to me was a little strange. Here I was with a man I promised to share my life with and yet, we have become just….“casual sex”. Feminine emotions are just that, I guess – fucking feminine. I wasn’t there to make love to him, I was there just to fuck. I felt a lump start to form in my throat and I chastised myself. What the hell is wrong with me. I angrily shut down the sentimental part of my brain, an Aspie thing, and grabbed his cock, sliding it inside of me in a slow, pleasurable embracing motion.
I grunted in pain as he continued deeper. Fuck, I forgotten about this part. As we thrust against each other, the pain melted under the assault of pleasure, and before I got too lost in it, I called out for Kailee.
Still on her knees, she scooted towards us. “Position yourself in between his legs. I want you to lick and suck his balls, and none of that ice cream eating bullshit”. I made my hand into a claw, and demonstrated how I wanted her grip the bottom and sides of them. “Make a C with your fingers and a U with your hand. GRIP THEM!. NO! USE your entire tongue. Now take them BOTH IN AT ONCE. Oh, his balls taste like candy and you crave his fucking candy.”
Her mouth curled into a smile, she stared at his balls as if they really were fucking candy. She began to pant and salivate and a split second later she inhaled his balls with utter delight and contentment. Holy shit! I was really fucking turned on by her eagerness! I went into full-fledged slamming mode onto X’s cock.
It becomes fuzzy after that, but sometime after my 5th orgasm he finally came. Tired and tingly, and more than a little sore, I curled up next to him and fell asleep. I hated to admit it, but it was nice to be in his arms again.
I don’t know how long I was asleep, but the sky was still dim so I doubt it was more than an hour. The cold had awoken me, and I was laying facing the outer wall, I turned to X to embrace his warmth but stopped when I saw both of his arms around HER. She was nestled in him! I had never, EVER been the cuddling type, but somehow, with X, I was different. To be honest, I don’t know why…
I turned away. I couldn’t look. Anger filled me, and I threw myself off the bed and angrily put on my clothes as I called for Xavier.
I needed to go home. Back in my bed. My safe, trusting, comforting, X-free home. I knew I had no right to be pissed, but I was. I was the one who left him. I really had no right to be upset. I was writing a blog about my sexual adventures for God’s sake. But I still was. Although whether it was at myself or at X, I couldn’t decide. So I decided to drink. I drink I did, at least until I passed out on the drive home.
Our relationship is fucked up. It is messy, unstable, all over the fucking place and Fuck it, I CAN’T deal with it any more.
Fuck X! Tonight I will be flying solo, XS? Perhaps….