MOAR PEDANT

The Pedant – in all his fastidious and possibly OCD glory – has decided that my hairdo needs a bit of tweaking, and I agree with him. By “tweaking” I mean that we both want to adjust the ratio of shaved-to-unshaved bits on my head.

Last time he was over, he re-shaved the shaved parts up to the level he thinks they should be – leaving a bit of stubble along the edges of my hairline that I shall attempt to let grow until it blends with the rest. The thing is, though, I can’t see those bits too easily and am afraid of accidentally shaving them down again.

Yesterday I texted The Pedant telling him I’ll want his help again sometime soon with maintaining the new borders on my ‘do. He surprised me by replying “sure, I’m off today – I could drop by and tinker with it.” That didn’t actually end up working out but he was also off today so he came by for a few hours in the afternoon. I warned him ahead of time that since we had limited time together, I might well choose snuggles over hair maintenance. We’d have to see.

When he arrived, we spent a while making chit-chat and stuff but he didn’t take his clothes off, which was kind of baffling to me because he’s fastidious like a damn cat and I assumed that even if we were just gonna do the hair thing, he’d want to be naked so as not to get clippings on him. He didn’t get undressed and he didn’t make a move on me and he didn’t say “Okay, so let’s get started on your hair!” so I broke the stalemate by coming up to him, kissing him, and starting to unbutton his shirt. He made no move to help, and gave me a puzzled look. “Less clothing,” I said, pointedly.

“We really only have time to do your hair,” he protested.

“I assume you don’t want clippings on you, though, right?” I said, undoing the last button and pulling the hem methodically out of his pants. “Besides, I’ve missed this. I think your fur is kind of therapeutic for me.” And I slid my arms around him, under his opened shirt, and began to kiss his chest.

The Pedant, I think, had arrived in a businesslike mindset because he figured he’d mostly be helping me shave my head. He can do that; he can put sex way far in the back of his mind to a point where he doesn’t even seem attracted to me anymore. When I initiated physical contact, there was quite a while where he seemed to be waffling between succumbing to my advances and remaining strictly professional or whatever and insisting we do the haircut thing. To be honest, I couldn’t decide what I wanted, either. I wanted both things. There wasn’t enough time. So I was close to him and caressing him, but in more of a fond, snuggly way while I tried to decide what to do with him. I wasn’t blatantly sexual with him or anything. At first.

But, as always, The Pedant began to warm up to me and make soft little sounds of enjoyment, and those sounds made me cave. It’s inevitable. I had The Pedant up against the inside of my door and his hands were still awkwardly, resolutely by his sides because he wasn’t sure whether to give in to the sexytimes but his back kept arching tighter and tighter as my lips and tongue found his nipples. As I kissed my way up to his neck and finally his lips, he shrugged out of his shirt the rest of the way. Then he started undoing his belt and I shucked off the rest of my clothes and sat on the bed, watching him get naked (he still had his socks and boots on, otherwise I’d’ve kept making out with him while he undressed…).

Then, naked and erect, he came into the bedroom and closed the door. I stood up and launched myself toward him and we sort of collided in the middle of the room, kissing and touching. Surprisingly, instead of starfishing, The Pedant began gently nudging me backward until my legs hit the edge of the bed; I took the hint and crab-crawled up onto the mattress, and The Pedant got on top of me and urgently fumbled himself inside me. I don’t know what it was about today – maybe some hormonal, time-of-month thing? – but his body was just candy to me. Even more than usual, I mean. He felt amazing on top of me, inside me. He kissed me as he fucked me, which he almost never does and which I definitely needed today.

In retrospect, I kind of wish I’d slowed down with the nipple stimulation so he’d lasted longer. He just felt so goddamned good. I actually also wish that I’d directed him to help me with my hair before making any sort of move. I know how hot and bothered he gets when I’m close to him but can’t/won’t fuck him, and here I had the perfect opportunity to build that sexual tension with him and I’d missed it. Ah well.

So we just kinda hurtled straight into his orgasm and after the aftershocks died down I said “Yeah…I’m gonna need you to service me right fucking now.” I told him I wanted his fingers and he apparently took that to mean clitoral stimulation so he snuggled up next to me and began touching me. It’s my fault for not being more specific – what I’d actually meant was I wanted him to insert a couple of fingers and do G-spot stuff – but I’m still perplexed by the slow and sort of aimless way he chose to touch me. Like dude you’ve seen how hard I push the Hitachi against me and how fast I wiggle it around – and the Hitachi itself vibrates like a damn jackhammer – how do you figure this light, arrhythmic petting would ever get me off? It’s like he still doesn’t get that I need a specific kind of stimulation in order to orgasm, not just any old touches somewhere around the top part of my vulva.

It’s possible that he’s just all flinchy and tentative after that email I wrote him a while back detailing how shitty he was at pleasuring me. But if that’s the case I wish he would just ask me what I want. It doesn’t have to be a mystery! I’m not expecting him to just magically be awesome at everything, without any kind of input or communication! I won’t think badly of him for saying “I have no idea what you’re wanting me to do, here. Teach me?” – in fact what I thought badly of was him assuming what I wanted, before, and ignoring my input. But no; I think he’d rather actually die than ask for direction.

I let him finger my clit awkwardly for a minute or two and then instructed him to put his fingers inside me, instead. I’ve always liked the way he stimulates my G-spot – that’s the one sex act where our ideas of what’s good actually match up, so I’ve never had to fight with him over it. And I Hitachi’d my clit while he massaged my G-spot and I got off twice and then curled up in his arms, shuddering. To be perfectly honest, my post-orgasm sobbing with The Pedant isn’t entirely a flukey brain chemistry thing, lately. It’s relief at him finally helping me get off in efficient, effective ways. Relief at the whole process not being an uphill battle anymore as I fought to assert what I wanted and he, y’know, completely ignored me.

We dozed together for an hour or two, snuggled up to each other. The Pedant really has no sense of personal space with me during sleep-snuggling; last time he was over he used my face as a pillow, and this time for a while he had his face mashed up against mine in a way that no human partner of mine – only Bastardcat – has ever done. I’d like to believe it’s because The Pedant feels really close to me emotionally but who the hell knows? I’ve never seen him sleep with anyone else so I have no basis for comparison.

When we woke up, somehow we got to talking about threesomes and I told The Pedant about the time The Bunny and I picked up a guy at the sex club and how awesome that was…except that the guy latched onto my nipple really hard without asking first. The Pedant (who argues about the stupidest things in the stupidest ways, I swear) said “Well, most women like their nipples played with.”

“I guess, but not everyone does, so it’s better to ask first. Or at least to start really gently so the person has a chance to say something. But, I mean, dude just latched right on. Hard. Out of the blue.”

“I once dated someone who liked her nipples treated roughly and didn’t want me to start gently,” The Pedant said, in sort of a triumphant tone like he’d just proved something (see? The stupidest arguments in the stupidest ways. I honestly have no idea why the fuck he was even turning this into a debate. Taking a stand against the concept that it’s best to ask partners what they like, maybe? Because asking is scary and hard and it’s mean to make people do it. Sadface.).

And I just kinda went “…Okay…?” and looked at him like “and your point is?”

“In fact, let me think…yup, you’re the only woman I’ve ever been with who doesn’t like her nipples stimulated.”

“Or who said so, at least,” I said, darkly. Lord knows I’ve put up with a bunch of uncomfortable sexytimes maneuvers from him because I got tired of having to argue about how my body works.

“Well, everyone else would swoon when I’d suck on them.”

“Dude, to be honest, I don’t necessarily trust you to tell the difference between swooning and flinching.” He made a little halfassed splutter of protest, and fuck, I don’t like having to dredge up the past all the time, but I goddamned will until he actually gets it through his head how obtuse he was: I went ahead and recapped, once again, the way he would completely ignore my flinching and pain-sounds during oral sex. And also my requests that he not target my clit so directly. Really, he’d just go to town on me face-first and not apparently hear anything I said except “HEY LET’S DO SOMETHING ELSE NOW.”

We were still in bed at this point and I had my head on his chest so I don’t know how he reacted to this. He didn’t say anything at all. I felt bad for having gone on another tirade about his shittiness, so I promptly added that he’s doing much better at listening now. He listens and he does the things I like and I am having fun, now.

I just…I think he understands that he’s been terrible in bed with me, before. It took literally four or five times of him trying to dodge the issue or make excuses while I kept repeating my point over and over, but I do think he’s finally managed to retain the information that, yes, he ignored my body signals and sounds and words a whole bunch of the time and just did shit to me on autopilot. But he’s not following this knowledge to its logical conclusion that if he was oblivious with me, he was probably oblivious with everyone else. If he couldn’t tell when I had an orgasm (in both directions – asking if I’d come when I hadn’t even been breathing hard, and asking if I’d come when I’d just had a huge shrieking thrashing climax), he probably had other partners where he thought they orgasmed but they hadn’t. If he thought that me cringing away from his hand/mouth/Hitachi-ing while making sharp unpleasant sounds meant that I was having fun, he probably thought other partners were having fun when in fact they were in pain.

He’s still stuck in the narrative that he was some kind of sex god with his exes and played their bodies like musical instruments and gave them all the orgasms, and it makes me want to smack him.

Anyway, we recovered quickly from that awkward moment and The Pedant said there was still time to do my hair. So he re-shaved my head and we showered together. I got out of the shower first, and by the time The Pedant came back into the bedroom I was Hitachi’ing myself again. “Oh hai. I was just thinking about you,” I said pleasantly as he came in.

“Clearly,” he said.

And then…he just kinda stood next to the bed for a while. Not looking at me. Just…standing around. Could it be that he was offering his glorious naked body for eye candy/fap fodder? That doesn’t seem like him. Probably he was unsure if I was expecting him to help me get off or not, and (wait for it…) didn’t want to ask. At any rate, it started to feel a bit awkward and also my body felt a bit too exhausted to come a third time, so I set the Hitachi aside, took The Pedant’s wrist, and tugged him down next to me.

We cuddled and kissed a little bit, and then I saw that his cock was currently about as tiny as it gets – post-coital flaccidity plus the chill of coming out of the shower, I guess – and I moved down to engulf it in my mouth. Like, right down to where my lips were against his body. And I used my tongue to kind of roll him back and forth against my palate.

“I don’t think I have another one in me,” The Pedant said (meaning orgasm).

“Oh, I figured that,” I said, coming up for air. “You were just so perfectly mouth-sized that I wanted to take advantage.”

The Pedant made the almost inaudible chuckle that I think means he’s surprised/flattered.

“Also, the size variation fascinates me,” I said, lightly squeezing and stroking his cock with my hand. By then it had gotten half-hard. “Technically, I bet I’ve never seen it the same size twice. I mean, what are the odds that it’s ever had the exact same dimensions around me more than once?”

“Well, there’s a minimum and a maximum…”

“Yeah, but so many states in-between!”

“It’s pretty much always at maximum when I’m around you,” The Pedant said, which is demonstrably false but d’awwww.

We snuggled some more and I ate some food because I had to go to work soon. While I ate, I told him he could have my spare keys if he wanted – like, just to make things more convenient in future. He said he’d feel weird coming into my apartment when I wasn’t around. i said that’s not what I had in mind…more like, the reason he couldn’t come over yesterday is that I was working til 6pm and he was going to a concert at 8pm. I invited him to crash here after but he didn’t know when the show would end and I knew that would frustrate me – I’d be waiting around feeling like I couldn’t go to sleep because I had to let him in. If he’d had keys, I could put my phone on mute and just go to sleep whenever I wanted (in theory; in practice I might be awake waiting for him anyway. Although I didn’t say that). I made it clear that keys wouldn’t mean carte blanche for him to come and go whenever; just that when he did visit, if I gave him the okay, he could let himself in.

I also pointed out that for our normal visits, him having keys could mean that I could sexually ambush him in my apartment in creative ways instead of having to put clothes on to go through the public parts of the house and let him in. That seemed to pique his interest, although he remained absolutely silent throughout the entire discussion (is it still a discussion if only one person is talking? :P)

In the end I said that I was just tossing the idea out there for convenience’ sake but that if he felt it was some huge relationship step he wasn’t ready for or whatever, that was fine, too. By the expression on his face he appreciated my no-pressure approach, but he still didn’t goddamned say anything. Not a yes, not a no, not a “can you clarify what this means to you?” not an “I would feel weird about this because…” So I changed the subject. In the past when I’ve brought up relationshippy things (like telling him I was falling for him) he was also silent, but followed up later after he’d processed things a bit. This may be another of those things he has to process.

I wish, now, that I’d clarified my stance a bit more. I’m wondering if he’s freaked out by the key idea because it seems too intimate or too much like a commitment. The fact is, I’m not looking for us to be more entwined with this move; I’m looking for us to be more independent. I want to be able to tell him “Yeah, come over this afternoon” and then live my life – take a nap, pop out for groceries, whatever – and he can just let himself in when he gets here. Especially with his chronic lateness thing, it can be a pain in the ass to wait around and let him in. Today, for instance, he arrived an hour later than he said he would (public transit issues, allegedly), and I was almost completely out of food but afraid to go grocery shopping lest he arrive while I was gone. Other times, he’s needed to leave while I was sleepy and naked and I forced myself to be somewhat alert and put clothes on so I could lock the doors behind him.

Yes, the key idea is also a gesture of trust and (if he goes for it) a sign that he probably intends to be in my life for a while. But it’s also a way of freeing me up a bit.

Anyway, then it was time to leave. The Pedant’s body continued being just ridiculously, magnetically attractive to me and I pressed up against him for hugs and smooches several times during the getting-ready process. I hated to see him put his clothes back on.

Although we needed to travel in opposite directions, The Pedant waited for my bus with me and saw me off (d’awww!). I sorta feel like he was hoping for a longer goodbye than he got, but I always get antsy that a bus will leave without me if I dawdle, so I pretty much said “It was good seeing you,” kissed him, and ran. I vaguely heard him say “Uh, you too” as I pulled away from that kiss – and it felt like he would have made the kiss longer if he’d had the option. Prawr.

I was basically just bursting with love for The Pedant the entire time he was over (with perhaps a dip during that one stupid argument about nipple play). I wanted to say the words to him. A lot. But I know he can’t say them back and some days I can’t deal with that.

After he left I was simultaneously overflowing with intensely mushy feelings for him and, curiously, hit by a huge wave of mourning for my relationship with Mine. And also kind of wanting to put up a FL ad to find some new partners. I think I’m worried that my feelings for The Pedant will freak him out so my instinct is to set up some other partnerships so that if he starts getting all distant and shit it won’t hit me as hard. And plus I miss MIne’s way of using his mouthwords to communicate with me. So different from what I have with The Pedant.

OMG I just noticed that The Pedant plugged in my almost-dead spare cell phone before he left my apartment. Do you see why he gives me heart-explody feelings? Do you see? Snuggles and cock and orgasms and gently running his silky fingertips all over my head to find the stubble the shaver missed and noticing that my phone needed charging and just quietly plugging it in, without fanfare, before he left.

This boy. This fucking boy. ❤

2 Comments

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2 responses to “MOAR PEDANT

  1. Leah

    Just wanted to throw in my hat in the “do NOT like nipple play” ring.

    Like…hate it. Always. No matter what pressure. Forever.

    I have had SEVERAL boys be like, “Yeah, but what about the way *I* do it? Girls LOVE the way *I* do it.” And then they tried and I stared off into space, or watched them bemusedly, or looked around in annoyance, or said, “OW STOP.” I gave up long ago even pretending like I don’t hate it.

  2. Pingback: Nice things | hiding in plain sight

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