A Little

Could you fuck me now?

Just a little.

Oh, a little - 

Just the tip, just the tip

...oh, yeah, like that.

Let the rest of me clench

In sweet anticipation

But keep fucking me like that,

just a little at a time.

Can we fuck, please? Yeah, 

go on, just a smidgen.

A bit more,

a little further;

Just as much as you like.

Don't listen when I say

                  Harder,

faster, oh

                  more!

I don't know what I want

I’m just wound up tight.

  

Give it to me in bits

Just the hint

Just a little

And then a little more

A little is sublime.

From the mouths of babes

(All right - not babes, exactly. But I was clearly quite certain about these things at age 18. This is from a recently discovered stash of old notes from college.)

We are all sexual perverts. We all want to feel the violence of sex, the animalism that takes over the human mind during the act, and the inhuman pleasure that we derive from it.
The demeaning treatment that so arouses us.
The force that makes us surrender ourselves.
The raw feeling of pain and pleasure being brought together in one big, wet, sticky mess.

We all want it.

Shine On

Just some of any number of things that have crossed my mind:

- I think owning anything called "Sleepy Time Body Mist" is ludicrous, particularly if you're a boy, even if your girlfriend has given it to you. Things like this call into question your very manhood. Tsk, tsk.

- I realised, right in the middle of class today, that I really, really want to have sex. I want a good, nice, raw, hard fuck. I just need something hot and hard pumping inside of me. You know that feeling, right? (...right?)

- I need a new cock, a new set of lips, a new body to think and dream about when I'm having these fantasies. I'm sick and tired of not having a replacement for him when I go there in my head. It's about fucking time.

- I've lost a fair bit of weight, and am working on my figure. Need to hook someone worthy now, at least, after all this effort.  

- It's mating season here in college. It's ridiculous. New couples are popping up all over the place like weeds. I think I like the summer better - it's break-up and fling season (a lot more fun). I have a next-to-nothing chance of finding a suitable boy here in college. Perhaps I'm fated to remain single till I break out of this place ([non-existent] God, I hope not! Need action!). Meh.

Revelations

Things I've discovered in the past couple of days:
- Drinking gives me insomnia. It all fits together now - the nights of drinking, followed by the long periods spent awake, unable to sleep. Don't know why I didn't see this before.
- I don't like my breasts. They appear to be sagging, and I feel that they're old. Not young and perky. I need someone to tell me that they are beautiful. I need a man to tell me, in all sincerity, that I'm beautiful.
- I'm looking for companionship. Simple, uncomplicated companionship. The realisation that I wouldn't mind dating K-Far comes from the understanding of this simple desire.
- Pervy gets a lot of action, but I don't (think I) resent her for it.
- I really wanted to sing and perform a lot this year. I still do. I have to find ways to do that.
- I really want to lose weight now, if only to be perceived as more attractive. One part of it is carrying yourself like you know you're sexy (I can manage that bit just fine), and the other part is being undeniably sexy (I need to work on that).

Microblog: On things I've learnt in the past three weeks.

Since the 22nd of June, I've learnt:
- that vodka tastes good on a plane.
- that absinthe kicks vodka's ass.
- that dirty dancing with women is a helluva lotta fun.
- that Indian movie censorship is a real bitch.
- that wanting to get laid doesn't help you to get laid.
- that pancakes, doughnuts and cupcakes can be gourmet food.
- that gay men can be very, very attractive, and that you can forgive them their homosexuality because they're so good to look at.
- that I'm not as forthcoming as I believe I am. OR, that relativity is universal (i.e., I'm not easy in Oz, even if I might be in India).
- that walking into an adult store can make me go red in the face.
- that buying something in an adult store can make me blush more than I knew I was capable of blushing.
- that Australianised Indian boys can be very, very hot.
- that I feel happy when I see a lesbian couple showing affection and love for each other.
- that a skirt really can double as a dress.
- that I have a fatal weakness for Malteasers.
- that I say 'fuck' a lot when I'm talking to myself when I'm on my own.
- that I have a terrible sense of orientation, but can still read maps very well. :S
- that I can't help but be friendly to those around me when they're being the same.
- that I'm still having wet dreams about him.
- that apart from wet dreams, I don't think of him at all.
- that I really do want to lose weight.
- that I do have a great sense of style.
- that I'm capable of much more than I give myself credit for.

The Green Fairy, et al.

Man, I love absinthe. Neat. In small quantities. But I love it.
Went out with PB to watch Wolverine today. Nice. Not spectacular - just great. Liked Angels and Demons better - it left more of an impression.
After, we walked up and down M.G. and Brigade Road, sipping absinthe from a lovely little mouthwash bottle. It was so well disguised that I was proud of myself. :)
It also hit us (me, at least!) fairly fast, and I went giggle-crazy. Also started unabashedly leching at the men walking around on the street. Slim pickings tonight, but we were pretty thorough.
Admitted to her that I've had sex. A liberating feeling. Less to pretend about. Good, all in all, to have done that.
Also, meeting her made me feel happy again. I needed a college-style outing - living at home is driving me mad. Also, don't have a room to myself, and that's starting to slice my nerves very thinly and precisely. Argh. Felt good to act my age, and to get out there. Just didn't want to come back here.
Was drunk enough to almost call out to a guy on the road. :P Might have been fun. Who knows.
Then my mum called, followed not too soon after by my dad. Wanted to shoot them both. Sometimes, you just. don't. care. And it becomes very difficult not to give in to that. Managed somehow. Almost fell asleep in the auto back. Wanted to. Didn't give in, eventually.
I'm so fucking desperate to get some action, it's pathetic. I've gotten myself off innumerable times these past few days. Nothing stands out. I need a man. I need to make out. I need to fuck. And, quoting from Californication, I need to screw like I have something I need to get out of my system. (I do.) I want random play. I don't want to know names or phone numbers or to ever meet the guy again. I just want some.
And now I'm thinking about that hot dad. Sigh. I am SUCH a loser.

A Shout-out

42, you make me wet. And I'm not ashamed to admit it.
Heck, no-one's ever going to read this, right? :) At least, no-one I know... and even if they do, I doubt they'll figure out who I am.
I'm cyber-stalking you on Facebook, and I know how creepy that is. But seeing pictures of you makes me feel good.
Plus, I just saw the movie 21, which I've been wanting to see for like, forever, and I'm on a movie buzz.
Someday, I'm going to reveal this blog in a fit of shamefaced embarrassment to the guy I'm with, or married to, or whatever. And I hope to god that he finds it funny, or thinks that I sound my age, which is a giddy 21. :P
Fingers crossed.
I'm off on a nice long holiday in two days, fucking hell thank god. Can't stand it at home anymore - the lack of peace and quiet is driving me up the wall. I'm hoping to get away from it all on this sojourn. I love travelling alone, and am really looking forward to it. These are two destinations I've never been to. I plan to soak it all in.
And if I can manage it with those nice-looking boys D/U, I abso-fucking-lutely intend to get lucky.

Letter 2: Infatuation

Dear 42 (also known as CoatBoy),

I think I can't get over the fact that I just want you so much. Regardless (and rather oblivious, too), of what I may actually know about you, I've made up my mind - decided that you're the kind of guy I want to be involved with right now. I've got you pegged as a "bad boy" - and I'm really hoping that I'm not horribly wrong. I think my obsession with you is beautifully tempered by the fact that you've been nice to me on the few occasions that I've interacted with you. I like that mix.

I do really hope you're single - not because I don't want you to have someone, but because I want to want you without reservation - and I couldn't do that if I knew that there was someone in your life. Please, be single, so that I don't hate myself for being this insanely attracted to you (or the concept of you, at the very least)!

I'd love to know that you're up for anything - that would be my perfect situation, because I really want to let loose. Could you be in a short-term, let's-just-have-fun-and-part-with-good-memories, no-judging relationship that centres (perhaps) almost exclusively on the physical? [And this is where questions, about whether I'll ever find someone who knows my kind of D/S and wants it too, pop into my head and confuse me.] Hey, just let me know.

Your eyes attract me the most. I can't look you in the eye for a reason - there is too much there, and I'm too afraid of revealing all of my feelings, and my burning desire for you, to you, if I do.

Would you be able to say "fuck it all" and just do this with (and to!) me? Fuck, I hope so. I want to live. If that, at the moment, means getting the daylights fucked out of me, I'm totally open (heh) to the idea. I think you're kinda what I'm looking for. What think you?

(Hopefully) yours,
@.

Letter 1: Curiosity

Dear Couch (or, Mud - whatever you prefer),

I like you. I think you're generally hot. And I know for a fact that you're smart and funny. I'm just not insanely attracted to you - you aren't the quintessential "bad boy" I'm looking to see on the surface, and generally run after, right now. Not like 42/CoatBoy. But that's a story for another day.

I'd really like to get to know you better. I've heard pretty much only good things about you - which is rare for a class like ours at this stage, as we are. I've heard crap about just about everyone (everyone's an asshole, huh?). I know I'm far from perfect, but to be honest, I'm tired of being around nasty people, regardless of whether I fit in with them.

Hehe, I'm secretly thinking about how much I can't wait to see if you'll get drunk at the next college party. You wouldn't believe the number of people (yeah, women) who are hoping you will. Germany has somehow made you super-hot, you know. Some say it's the hair - you apparently have great hair now. :) Personally, I think it's because you look less stick-thin and starved.

Another funny thought - I just realised that I've only ever thought of you as The Guy With The Long Neck - I always thought you were decent-looking, but that neck of yours claimed most of the attention I had to give. :P

I remember that NYP - you came up to me and hugged me. It was cute and, in retrospect, nice. You're a cute drunk, too. I wish you made yourself more visible in college - it would give me more of an excuse to get to know you. With one year left and my singlehood tempting me to let out all the stops, I think I really would enjoy that. Or generally - let's talk.

Whaddaya say?

Yours,
@.

Don't Speak

Don’t speak.

I don’t want to know what you’re thinking. I don’t want to know how you feel. I have heard your reasons in the past, and can’t hear anything from you any more, because it hurts. It hurts, not because of something you have said or done in the present, but because it is the dull ache of the past, with its memories and its reflected pain – pain that will only ebb once it has flowed.

I understand now why rebounds are so common – sometimes you need someone, anyone, to be there as you recover, as an emotional wrecking ball demolishing you every morning. Someone to distract you and occupy your mind when you let yourself be distracted and occupied. Someone to help you exorcise your demons by turning everything into equations of the material realm, exhausting you physically with repeated lovemaking till your mind shuts down from its extended overdrive and derives a few hours of clarity and peace.

Sometimes we are broken so bad that it takes more than just time to un-break – while we may spring back in our work and our flimsy social relationships, sometimes the fault lines run so deep that we don’t realise how bad it is until one morning, we look in the mirror and can’t recognise the person looking back at us.
Loss changes people. Always. But here, with this, I’m not entirely sure of the extent of my loss, or of the things I’ve lost. What do I know right now of the price I’ve paid in self-respect and self-confidence?

Ramble.

I, like, totally love this statement.
And I just discovered Polyvore. I think the concept is frickin' awesome - though I'm sure it must result in a lot of wasted time, heheh. It's one of those... addictions that I'd love to have.
Sigh. I want an addiction.
Perhaps I already have one, in him. I'm afraid that it really is one, our relationship. It scares me to analyse it like that - and it scares me even more when we talk about it and he analyses it like that.
Desperately wanting things to work out won't make them work out. That's a lesson I learnt a long time ago. I can only hope that goodness follows, and does not abate. I don't even want to hope for anything too specific. Like I'm afraid I'll jinx it... whatever it is.

In other news, I've also discovered Playlist.com. Which I have fallen in love with. My current playlist includes Blondie's Maria (from the 90's, people), Emosanal Atyachar from the Dev D OST, and Shine On by The Kooks, which shuffle with Just Like You Imagined by NIN and Rooster by Alice In Chains. That's about as diverse as I can get. Oh, and the Jonas Brothers and Katy Perry also feature on the list. As does Will Smith. So, yeah, you get the picture. I've thought of a song I want to listen to, and added it. This is the result - the kind of beautiful chaos I've always struggled to embrace.
.
.
.
.
.
Which brings me to another thought I often have - the real extent of my self-proclaimed liberal philosophy. I've realised that I don't feel offended or scandalised when faced with most forms of profanity or vulgarity - as long as I don't have to actually see/experience it in person. I love being able to joke about a good fuck with my lover. I love being able to talk about how our professors are such grumps because they haven't gotten any in a while, and I totally love imitating the way MPPP feels up guys sitting by the aisle during his class. I loved the movie Shortbus (so. much.)

So while I love the idea of sex (and love it when I can have it, too), I can't reconcile myself to the idea of casual sex. That bit I find myself unable to deal with. This inability also encompasses casual encounters of the drunk-making-out kind. I'm a rather paranoid, cautious person, which means that I would never let myself get into a situation where Drunk Making Out With Random would happen. Heck, I can understand drunk making out. But when someone says that all the guys she's made out with while drunk "don't count" - yeah, that freaks me out some. A lot. A huge fucking lot.

Maybe it's just that I've never had to look for action (my being committed to someone for the last couple of years might have had something to do with it), or maybe I place meaning and value in being intimate with another - but this is one thing I just can't get my head around. Perhaps it's hypocritical. I know that in my head I secretly want to have casual sex, for the fun of it (and that's possibly the least of my fantasies, which stretch to domination and group sex without much effort). But the peculiar state of my real-life relationship means that I will never, as long as it continues, go there, or ask him to let me. I love too strongly, and have given of myself too wholly, and learnt bitter lessons from too many mistakes, to let that happen. So I don't mind being a hypocrite in this matter, if it means that I know where I stand. It gives me peace of mind. Wouldn't you choose the same, too?