Also

I feel like The Dandy has become a bit too perfunctory in the way he touches me – I mean when we were first dating (which was only five months ago, for pete’s sake) he once spent like ten minutes just stroking my inner elbows, fascinated by the sounds and squirms he could draw forth from me. And when we were doing naked stuff he would regularly put a finger or two inside me and do g-spot stuff, even if he knew it wasn’t really gonna lead anywhere. As long as I was having fun, he’d continue.

But for a while now it’s felt like petting me is an absent-minded thing he does while we watch Netflix (which is totally fine) or a quick “blah blah blah whatever can we have sex now?” strictly utilitarian foreplay thing (which is not fine).

It’s not even like I need him to pet me for that much longer than he’s been doing, in order to get in the mood for cock. I just want him to focus. I want to feel as though he’s paying attention to what he’s doing, noticing the spots that make me moan hardest and doubling back to touch them again, that sort of thing. As it stands he just doesn’t seem to be paying attention at all; he’ll run his fingers up and down my back, but not as lightly as I’d prefer and he’ll just keep on going monotonously up and down even though there are places along the way that make me react extra-hard.

So few men get mesmerized by petting me and I honestly can’t understand why. They’re touching an attractive naked woman and eliciting all manner of sounds from her. When I can make a partner vocalize and writhe, it’s fascinating to me. I’ll linger and see how long I can draw it out. For me I think it plugs into my dominance: I’m becoming an expert in my partner’s body and making it so I can play him like an instrument and get any reaction I want. That guy I had two dates with recently and then he bailed on me was  submissive, so I’d imagine for him it was more of an act of service, but he was completely into petting me. Like, dude was exactly like me in that respect. The Dandy, conversely, identifies as dominant, and initially he seemed to be the kind of dominant who thrives on provoking reactions and giving pleasure, but now…

I wonder if this is just the laziness that often comes from being in an established relationship or if he’s beginning to resent how much I’m leaning on him (what with him taking care of my cats and me staying there fairly often, kind of more to escape the neighbours and be with the kitties than to see him…) and it’s coming through in the sex? Like do I talk to him about this and tell him I’d like him to be more…detail oriented in bed? Or do I assert my independence and autonomy in some way just to make really damn sure he’s not accidentally thinking of me as a child or convalescent that he’s taking care of?

Annnnnyway, the actual thing I wanted to say with this post is that The Dandy and I had amazing sex the other day and I really needed that. It’s been feeling like our mojo is a little off.

Granted, the amazingness of the sex was pretty much just due to me using my Hitachi during it – all The Dandy did was stay hard (which is still noteworthy as many men can’t seem to maintain an erection if I’m grinding rather than thrusting). He wasn’t actively doing anything much, or having a better technique than usual, or anything. I was riding him and then I added the HItachi to the mix so that I was basically just humping the vibrator while The Dandy lay there with his dick in me. But that combination of things makes me come spectacularly hard and feels really intimate to me. So yeah. I came crazy hard to a point where the violence rose up in me and I shook and growled and clenched. And once I’d recovered slightly, I set the Hitachi aside and kept riding The Dandy – thrusting up and down this time – and it only took him a minute or two more to come, so between that and the fact that he stayed hard all through my Hitachi-ing, I think me getting off that way turns him on. Yay. 🙂

Having said that…I don’t know whether he and I can really last. It still bugs the shit out of me that Dandette lives with him and he’s paying for all her shit. It bugs me that he has boundary issues. I’ve noticed that he can’t say “no” to me; he’ll ignore a request or giggle awkwardly at it, but he won’t actually use his words and say no. And he’s got a saviour complex and yet at the same time I think he’s beginning to resent being a saviour (one time I offhandedly mentioned that I don’t think I ever want to live with a partner again because I like my alone-time and independence. I saw The Dandy’s face light up). So, he’ll do things for me, but I don’t really trust his motivations. I think there’s big potential for him to do things he doesn’t actually want to (either to offer out of obligation or to be afraid to say no when I ask for things) and end up resentful.

Also, I find that I kind of resent the massive money he makes. Partly because he’s using a big chunk of it on Dandette instead of me (there, I said it) but also because it renders him just so entirely out of touch with my experiences. Looking for an apartment is terrifying for me; places in my price range are small and/or sketchy and property management companies are likely to reject me because the freelance nature of my job makes me not look like a good bet as a tenant. For The Dandy, apartment hunting is a pain in the ass and nothing more. He can afford nice places; places big enough that he doesn’t have to go in there with a tape measure to make sure his furniture will fit. If he applies for a place, let’s face it, the only reason he wouldn’t get it is that someone else got it first. His apartment is in a pretty fancy building, so the soundproofing is excellent, but even if it wasn’t, the place is fucking huge. If a next-door neighbour were being loud, he could just go to the other side of the apartment and escape the noise that way. I can only afford a bachelor apartment where the main living space is about the size of The Dandy’s bedroom, so if someone to one side of me is being loud…tough shit.

I know it’s not rational but I just…kind of hate The Dandy for having this apartment that’s dead silent, and just taking it for granted, when I live in a place where I can hear the guy upstairs pissing. And I double-hate Dandette for living in said silent apartment for free and just taking it for granted**. It’s been a running theme in my life that I’m never quite bad off enough for help. Other people have nervous breakdowns etc and people come scurrying out of the woodwork to throw help and free stuff at them, but I continue barely hanging on by my fingernails so nobody gives a fuck about me.

If The Dandy had gotten Dandette the fuck out of there when they broke up, like he should have, I could be moving in there right now and escaping my shitty neighbours and the constant, crushing anxiety-paralysis they give me. I wouldn’t ask him to take me in for free, of course. The apartment costs $1,800 and the second bedroom is smaller so I’d offer to pay $800/month – which is still less than I pay here, so I could be enjoying a bit of financial relief while still fully pulling my weight. Or maybe if I were really pushing it I’d ask if I could pay $500/month (so that we’d each be paying rent that’s sort of proportionate to our income*, ergo it’s still fair in a sense) which would allow me to possibly save up some cash for when I found a proper place of my own and needed money for movers etc.

But no. Dandette gets a free ride even though they’re not dating anymore, and I get to live in a place where I’m scared to flush the toilet and get told that I can’t stay at The Dandy’s too much because Dandette might be uncomfortable.

I wish I knew what her deal is, btw. She’s really nice to me – too nice, given that we’re really just acquaintances – but on the other hand she still acts out sometimes out of panic that some of The Dandy’s attention isn’t on her anymore. She seems not even the teeniest bit self-aware, so I tend to think that consciously she’s happy The Dandy found someone and she’s trying to “welcome me into the family” or whatever but subconsciously she’s freaking out so she acts out but doesn’t have any idea why. But what if I’m wrong and the nice treatment is some Machiavellian “keep your friends close and your enemies closer” thing? She scares me a bit.

Welp, this post ended up going all over the place.

 

*I don’t know exactly how much The Dandy makes, but one time when I told him about subsidized housing where your rent is set at 25% of your income, The Dandy said that if he applied to such a place his rent would be more than it is now so it would be pointless for him. Which means he makes over seven thousand dollars a month.

**When she first had her mental breakdown and quit her job (like six months ago, I think?), apparently she kept the apartment spotless because she felt guilty about not paying rent. Those days are thoroughly over. The place is usually trashed when I go over there, and I’ve seen The Dandy take an hour or two to clean up the kitchen on a few occasions now. This is why I say she takes the place for granted. And she’s doing pretty well lately mentally, by the way; she’s chatty, sees friends and her boyfriend often, has several creative projects on the go. It’s not a depressive lack of energy keeping her from cleaning. And it’s her many baking projects and craft projects that are trashing the place. She’s taking advantage.

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Oh! But.

Today when The Dandy and I parted company I murmured “Love you. Have a good day” in his ear and he murmured back “I know. Love you, too.” And it didn’t seem like it was a huge terrifying effort for him to say it.

So that’s something.

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Ugh.

Last night The Dandy got off on a huge technical tangent, as he is wont to do. I generally like these. This one was triggered by me putting away his clean silverware from the dishwasher – I noticed the drawer had some sporks in it made of metal(!) and I commented on it. I associate sporks with fast food trash so it was weird to see a durable, for-keeps version. The Dandy started giving a dissertation on the differencecs between titanium and steel, and why titanium would be the best material for a spork.

I listened for a while, and then I was like “okay wait are you saying ‘CUTTLE-ry’?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Because the word is CUTLERY.”

“Well, whatever,” The Dandy said, embarassed, and launched into more talk about metals.

I wouldn’t have been quite so mean about it but I’ve noticed that The Dandy has atendency to assume he knows more than me about EVERYTHING and it’s annoying. I like that he’s smart. I like that he enjoys teaching me things. But sometimes he’ll start trying to teach me a thing I already know, and no matter how much I say “yes, I know that,” and nod vigorously and finish his sentences, he won’t stop. Like I’ve had to actually tell him “this is not a thing I need to be taught; stop talking now.”

One particularly annoying and mansplainey incident: the other night I said “hey, if someone’s foresight gets cut off, is it called a circumspection?” This was a joke. Wordplay. Ha ha.

The Dandy appeared to get the joke; at any rate, he chuckled. But then he said “circumspection actually means ‘looking around.'”

“Yes,” I said, puzzled at him explaining the meaning of a word I’d just used. “Same root as ‘circle’ and ‘circumference.’ And as ‘circumcision,’ hence the joke.”

“‘Circumcision’ literally means ‘to cut around,'” The Dandy added helpfully. In retrospect it’s hard not to reimagine this in a Ralph Wiggum voice. It’s just so random.

“YES, ‘circum’ as in ‘around’ and ‘cision’ like ‘incision’ or ‘incisive’ or ‘incisor’ or – bitch, I took Latin in high school. Don’t fuck with me.”

And he finally got the hint and shut up.

But now I’m wondering if he didn’t realize I was even making a joke – if he thought his charmingly dense girlfriend ACTUALLY thought “circumspection” might mean chopping something off – and he chuckled at the silly, silly thoughts my girlbrain came up with and then gently attempted to explain what the words really meant. Like, WTF.

Another time I wondered if he could write me a computer program for letting horny dudes on the internet transfer money to me (the existing ones I’ve looked into either don’t keep my personal info anonymous enough, won’t allow sex workers to use their services, or are for Americans only). So I asked if he had any experience making e-commerce software and he said “like an online shopping cart?” I said no, and explained what I wanted. He said he’d never done something like that and had never worked in e-commerce before but incidentally “e-commerce” just means online stores or online shopping carts and that’s it. I said no it doesn’t and he argued with me until I rather loudly informed him that my ex-husband was a high-level manager at an e-commerce company and what they made was software for sending invoices and money securely online so The Dandy needed to not fight me on this. And finally (finally!) he shut up.

Oh also this morning on the bus (I’d slept over at his place and he was going to work, me home) we passed through one of my target neighbourhoods where I’m seeking apartments. The neighbourhood is also near a college where I’ve posed many times. I told The Dandy how I’d read somewhere that the neighbourhood of [college] was one of the safest in the city but the next time I was working there I didn’t see any apartment buildings anywhere so I gave up (not realizing that there’s a HUGE cluster of buildings a block or two up) so good thing The Dandy told me to go more north in my quest.

“[College] is right over there,” The Dandy said, pointing as the bus passed it (and again my mind’s ear hears this in Ralph Wiggum’s voice).

“Yes, I know; I work there.”

It’s so depressing. Even the good, generally feminist guys like The Dandy pull this shit. I have no patience for it anymore.

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Humph.

My friend Kaija tentatively wants to fix me up with a guy her partner knows. Apparently this dude has a thing for tall, tattooed women and may enjoy being bossed around. The reason he may enjoy being bossed around is because he’s passive and indecisive, not submissive per se, and that would probably drive me crazy. But the idea of being with someone who has a physical “type,” and I’m it, is…appealing. I’m not definitely saying no. Kaija’s gonna get me a pic of him if she can, to aid in my evaluation process.

I told The Dandy about this when I saw him last night. I said that TBH I feel like I haven’t dated anyone in a long time who thought I was really, really attractive (I started saying this without even thinking – just venting to someone I feel close to. Took me until this point to think “Oh derp THE DANDY IS A PERSON I’M DATING, well this is awkward” and my spiel hitched for a second like a computer buffering but then I figured what the fuck and kept talking). I said that when I was younger and more conventionally attractive I’d catch partners staring at me with huge glittery anime eyes, just utterly mesmerized by how hot they thought I was. And I don’t remember the last time that happened, and it’s fine, looks aren’t the most important part of a relationship, I know my partners feel connected to me and love my brain and yadda yadda yadda. But still, it would be nice to be swooned over, physically.

And like I said, I was saying this to The Dandy as a random vent and had kind of even forgotten that it applied to him until midway through. I wasn’t fishing for compliments. Which is good because there were none forthcoming; when I said that I think nobody I’m dating thinks I’m super hot or anything, he just listened quietly with a sheepish expression. Okay, so fair enough, I guess I called it.

Honestly, despite what we’re all taught about men being sooooo highly visually stimulated, I think a lot of them are just…not. Because, I mean, it’s not just that he doesn’t look at me that way; I never see The Dandy obsessing on anyone’s eye candy. Ditto many of the other partners I’m thinking of where that component of visual lust was absent on their side. I, meanwhile, get spellbound by hotness pretty frequently to a point where if a partner is around I suppress my reactions so as not to offend him, but it’s really really difficult. Like I have to actually struggle not to openly eye-hump the person/express disbelief at their hotness repeatedly/lose all track of the conversation I’m having with my partner because I’m momentarily gobsmacked by the pretty/etc. I hold no ill will toward partners of mine who just aren’t that visual in general. I know it’s nothing personal. If someone I’m dating drools all over other people but not me, that’s different.

Anyway. I’d just gotten finished stating that I know looks aren’t the be-all and end-all of a relationship and then for whatever reason I felt like clarifying, because looks are pretty important to me. I want that delirious lust where I just wanna eat the other person up (and The Dandy does give me that – his body is not my ideal but his face just transfixes me, and he’s witnessed me staring intently into his eyes in creepy silence for minutes on end and then saying “you…are so fucking pretty” many, many times). So I amended my previous statement. I said that looks are important to me when it comes to partners. I grinned at The Dandy and said “I am a curator of beautiful things.”

And The Dandy put on a fake-innocent voice and said “Then how did you end up with me?” which…kind of brought me to the limit of my patience. Like dude you goddamned know I find you attractive. I tell you almost every time I see you. And you surely know that my “curator” comment was a veiled way of saying it yet again. And you totally just listened to me tell you that I suspect my partners don’t find me all that attractive but I wish they did, and you just sat there nodding and not saying anything – not even something like “looks aren’t important to me but you have the most fantastic brain.” But here you are wanting me to heap even more praise onto you. The Bunny used to pull shit like that, too. And there was a similar thing at least once with Minx.

I rolled my eyes and said “how’s the fishing in Compliment Lake? Are you catching anything?” and he got the hint and we talked about something else.

But Jesus, the neediness. Tell a guy he’s hot one fucking time and he’ll be back begging for more for the rest of his goddamned life. It’s like feeding a stray cat or something. And I’m so very tired of feeling like I give more validation/emotional labour/etc than I get.

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Weight and see

So for the past month or two I’ve been trying to watch what I eat because my weight got up higher than I’d like. I’m not doing any big restrictive capital-D Diet or anything, more like trying to form some good habits that I could in theory sustain for the rest of my life. I’ve switched to a lower-fat version of a few foods I regularly eat and have cut back on sweets and stuff. I’m trying to eat fruits or veggies with every meal.

And, okay, in fairness the bullshit with the neighbours has escalated so much recently that I feel persecuted in my own home so for the last two weeks I’ve probably been eating substantially less than usual because a) fluttery anxiety-stomach and b) do not want to be here long enough to properly cook anything. Also: SO MUCH ANXIETY-POOPING.

I honestly wasn’t sure if my dietary changes would impact my weight. I thought maybe I’d reached an age where I’d just be kinda fat no matter what, and maybe my efforts would do nothing. But I’m starting to see a little something. A few months ago, the calf-high boots I wear all the time were tight at the tops; now they’re not. My waist waxes and wanes like the moon tbh but the other day it measured 31″, which is my lowest fluctuation in quite a while.

Last night I was at The Dandy’s and Dandette has a bathroom scale so I weighed myself. Now, I haven’t been rigorously keeping track of this shit (if I try, I will toggle over from “let’s switch to low fat cheese and just casually see what happens” to being obsessed and weighing myself twelve times a day and deciding that actually maybe I should restrict my intake way more, which is why I don’t own a scale). I don’t remember precisely how long I’ve been at this pseudo-diet thing. I don’t know exactly how much I weighed when I first decided to do it. I know that I did reach 207lbs at one point, and I was at least the same size if not bigger by the time I decided to make changes. Last night when I weighed myself, the scale said 192.6lbs. And I’d just eaten a big piece of lasagna and drunk like four glasses of water at the time so really my actual body probably weighs less.

So, I’m getting thinner like I wanted to and maybe my amazing knee-high boots that my calves got too big for can go back on my footwear roster again one day. Neat.

 

 

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Moar Pedant

The Pedant returned last night after work, ostensibly to help me paint my apartment some more. Spoilers: we got naked instead.

Shit ran late at his job so he didn’t end up arriving til 9pm (vs 7:30 which is what we’d planned). So, only two hours before the noise bylaws kicked in. And I knew I wanted to fuck him and I know my vibrator is loud enough that the harpy downstairs can hear it and will sometimes pound her ceiling over it and my vibrator is the only way I can really get off anymore, so.

I am feeling a bit distant from The Pedant these days – I mean, we broke up and I had like half a year to process that and realize that he’s…really kind of an idiot in a lot of ways, and that he really didn’t give as good as he got in our relationship. I don’t know if it’s the frisson of feeling like he needs to “win me over” or if he was just particularly horny when he arrived, but The Pedant was hilariously thirsty. Like I let him in and it didn’t occur to me to hug or kiss him hello, and apparently he felt this lack and as we made small talk he hovered over me giving off palpable “touch me” vibes. I’d just made a plate of eggs and I was starving so I retrieved my food from the kitchen and set it on the couch and then I finally succumbed to the hug he so clearly wanted. He murmured in my ear that he’d “come prepared” like he’d promised (he’d offered to wear an old pair of boxers that I could cut off him with scissors). “Good,” I said evenly, “and I managed to find time today to wrap a couple of dog leashes around the top of my bedframe.” I use leashes as attach points for wrist and ankle restraints and he knows this. Just me saying that made him gasp and shudder. Fun! Dance, puppet, dance! He also asked me, in his low, slightly unsteady, turned-on voice, if the toys I used to use on him are still clean. I said yes and he said “you could probably convince me to let you use them on me tonight.” Uh-huh. He doesn’t really want ass play but he could be convinced to take a plug or dildo for my sake. Okay.

Between kisses he also asked me if I’m okay with our current “friends with benefits” status. Oh, is that what we are? He’s so fixated on unicorn-hunting with his girlfriend that he’s relegating me to not-a-relationship even though we’re interacting in exactly the same way we did when dating? Pfft, whatever. I said yeah, it’s probably fine.

After a minute or two of vertical snuggling in my living room The Pedant said “you should eat your eggs before they get cold.” I agree, and the only reason I hadn’t started already is that he didn’t let up his grip and I was too polite to struggle out of it. I turned around and stood there for a second surveying the couch area for the jar of mayo I knew was there somewhere (it’s the fat-craving week of my cycle and I’ve been putting mayo on everything). The Pedant took this pause as an invitation, or something, and stepped up behind me and put his arms around me again and started kissing the back of my neck. I visually located the mayo jar and tactfully waited thirty seconds before saying “ah, there’s what I was looking for” and disentangling. I curled up on my side to eat, leaning on one elbow. The couch is currently covered in a bunch of clutter because reasons, so there was barely room for just me, but The Pedant – catlike – insinuated himself into the clutter until he was spooning me from behind. He continued petting me and kissing my neck and shoulders as I ate. I told him about a recent triumph, posing for a highly publicized costumed drawing class and being generally adored and showered in compliments. This gig has a photographer who takes promotional pics for their Facebook page, and I said that I couldn’t wait to see the pics because I looked goddamned resplendent that night. “I’m sure you did,” The Pedant said softly, right in my ear. Ha ha he never gives a shit about my art gigs or thinks my costumes are sexy.

Part of me really did want to string him along and make him paint my kitchen a bit before we got down to fucking, but ultimately the time constraint/loud Hitachi conundrum won out and I took him straight to bed. Actually I told him I wanted to just lie down and digest my food for a few minutes before seguing to other things (*cough*). So I lay on my back on the bed and The Pedant barnacled himself to the side of my body with one leg thrown over mine and his face pretty much pressed against my cheek. He petted me a bunch and I gradually allowed myself to be won over to it, taking off my shirt and bra to allow more skin access. The Pedant doesn’t usually take an active role in bed, or even touch me back…except, come to think of it, when he knows I’m mad at him or feeling distant or needing to be won over. So in effect, the more love I felt for him back in the day, the shittier and more one-sided the sex got. What bullshit.

So for a long time I simply lay back and enjoyed The Pedant petting me, and I gave him some minimal pets back but didn’t shift my full attention to him. Eventually I said “Your face needs to be 100% more between my legs than it currently is” and – obliging but moving in slow motion because stupefied by arousal – he shifted his body downward and I squirmed out of the sweatpants I was wearing.

As an aside: The Dandy has never gone down on me. I pointed this out to him, once, doing that thing where I make an observation and then just wait to see what the other person says – and he simply agreed “nope, I haven’t” without giving any reasons and I didn’t dig further because if he thinks vulvas are disgusting or that giving head would make him submissive that’ll just irritate me. So for the most part I’ve been living in a cunnilingus-free universe. And it’s not even like I can get off that way anymore, but it still feels good, and I miss the intimacy.

The Pedant, conversely, is an enthusiastic rugmuncher, if a little haphazard and lacking in finesse. If I’m gonna get anywhere near orgasm I need someone to find my sweet spot and hit it rhythmically; he was just kinda doing this sporadic all-over-the-place thing that sometimes ground his scratchy beard into me in a painful way. But sometimes he accidentally did things that felt good, too, and it was a turn-on just feeling like he was submitting to me and doing my bidding and reveling in my taste and smell. I was so turned on, in fact, that after five or ten minutes when I decided to bring in my dildo and Hitachi and finish things off, I came three times in a row. Been a while since I felt like having a third. 🙂 Even after I set the Hitachi aside, The Pedant kept moving my dildo around inside me and gently stroking my clit, which gave ma a bunch of pleasant aftershocks. I called him a good boy and he did that little gaspy thing. He really digs the idea of being my slave. Normally, for whatever reason, he seems to attract women more on the submissive side so it’s a safe-ish bet his girlfriend doesn’t give him what I do. I bet he’s been feeling all kinds of backed up. 😛

Eventually I told him to come up and lie on his back. I didn’t give him the kind of hours-long-marathon-of-hitting-his-erogenous-zones that he’s accustomed to from me (half revenge, half wanting to be done with possibly noisy stuff by 11pm) but I cuffed his wrists to the bed and cut his underwear off and jerked him off with a gloved, lubed finger up his ass (spoilers: the finger up the ass didn’t take any “convincing.” I simply got a nitrile glove out of the bedside table and put it on, and the sound of me doing so made The Pedant gasp in anticipation). It was fun and fascinating watching his face as I gently moved that finger inside him. As he approached orgasm I eased up on the finger movements so as not to distract him, then twitched my finger slow and steady just after he went over the edge and was actually coming. His whimpering sounds were epic.

And then of course he immediately fell fast asleep, as he does. I got up to pee and when I returned I had to nudge him over from the centre of the bed to make room for me. The realization that I was next to him made him start awake for a second and instantly turn and glomp onto me. He clung to me like a drowning man to a life preserver for most of the night.

He set his alarm extra early this morning – like two hours before he had to be at his job which is 20 minutes from my house – and he didn’t expressly say this but I think it was so there was time for us to cuddle. At least that’s how he ended up spending the extra time. Before he left, he kissed me, then knelt and kissed my pubic mound, then came up and kissed my mouth again. Prawr.

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Sex Stuff

Physically, sex with the Dandy is…kind of boring. I expected this; he’s a Taurus (yes, I kind of believe in astrology, shut up) and they are known for being kind of workman-like in the sack. Most of the time he just gets on top, puts his face in the crook of my neck, and thrusts away until he comes. I feel like I can’t really contribute much from the bottom aside from some moaning. The way I have to move when I’m on top wears me out really fast, though.

Last time we hung out we discussed our wank fantasies and he said (not for the first time) that he mostly just fantasizes about vanilla sex. I asked if he was on the top or bottom usually and he said top. So I guess things are fine.

A few times, after this mechanical missionary sex, I’ve noticed him sniffling even though he did not previously have a stuffy nose. His face is still in my neck so I can’t see his expression but I suspect he might be having crygasms. That’s intriguing…

The other day after he got off he went to the bathroom to clean up, leaving me to get myself off without accompaniment. I think that’s just goddamned rude. If it seems like he’s gonna do it again I’ll tell him not to.

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