My idiocy knows no bounds.

Well.

Ok.

So, after the high of this Tuesday I got a whole day of euphoria.  Wednesday found me with a shit eating grin from dawn till dusk.  Today?  Not so much.

The Neighbor hit me up for sex late last night, but I had to get up at 6 am so I declined.  Later today I hit him up for darts and Mad Men (he’s DVR’ing it for me).

Me: Do you have plans tonight?

TN: Yup dinner then gym

Me: haha

Me: Ok then

Me: Well, if you wanna play darts and let me watch Mad Men, holla at me

His terse (and completely lame in my opinion) answer to my inquiry of his plans tonight derailed me.

Later, in a fit of hope and bravery, I added: I hope you do.

Once home I took care of the puppy, poured myself a glass of wine and went on the balcony for a smoke.  I could hear voices downstairs from my other neighbor, a new female voice.  I said hello and chitchatted.   Hearing my voice, TN came out on his balcony above and then came over to play with the puppy.

He asked me of my plans for the night, I told him I’d cancelled on Julian, the 25 year old.  I was tired, I explained.  He said he was going to go work out then to dinner.

“Where?” I wondered, feeling odd about asking.

“A friend’s for a late dinner,” he calmly replied.  I think, Ok.  Whatever.  Then immediately move on.

I told him of my latest fantasy.  He would leave his door unlocked not knowing whether or not I’d come over, but one early morning I would.  I’d creep into his apartment, search for him in the dark and wake him up with either my mouth or my pussy.

He said he was hard at the thought.

I told him I was the Hard On Police and would need to check.  Yep, only a Level 2 hard on down there.  Let me rub it to get to the full force.

He said there was only one more level, I said there was definitely two more.

I pulled down his workout shorts and exposed his turgid shaft to my bare hands.  “Ok, now we’re  at a Level 3.”  Its thickness hot and heavy in my hands.

I pressed my breasts against him and he dipped his mouth to suckle me.

“You’re almost to a Level 4,” I say looking into his eyes, “You’re just missing one thing.  My mouth.”

He laughs out loud and I continue to tease him.  I tell him I know what he’s about to do.

“What??”

“You’re about to take a step back and walk to the front door then look over your shoulder and say, ‘Later!'”

To his credit he stands around a minute or two more and I almost get his cock in my mouth before he pulls away.

“You love to torture me.”

“Sometimes, yes,” he answers.

After he’s gone I’m pretty ok.  I’d cancelled plans with young Julian because I can’t even pretend to flirt with anyone else right now after Tuesday night.  I feel like it’s disingenuous to TN (yeah, yeah, yeah – I KNOW).  So, I’d committed myself to a quiet night of some artwork and wine, cigarettes and long distance phone calls.

Then, like a goddamned lightening bolt I think: WHO GOES TO A “FRIEND’S” HOUSE  AFTER 10 PM FOR “DINNER”?!?!?

I spend the next hour desperately trying to calm myself down.  I call my sister, a best friend, I take the puppy outside, I cum.  And then — oh God — and then I do one of the stupidest things I’ve done in months.  I emailed Troy.  It simply said, “Why did you text me?”

My thoughts at the time were: Ok, I’m ripped wide open by TN, the kid has NO clue, I’m being played like an asshole and I now must know why Troy texted me that cock shot in January after months of zero contact.

And now I’ve done fucked up.

Majorly.

No wait, there’s more implosion.  I also texted TN this:

Me: I think you’re going to hear Downstairs Neighbor having sex tonight.

Me: Is everyone but me getting laid tonight?  I assume that’s what you’re doing at your “late dinner” ;)  (please note the winkie face, which magically nullifies my crazy, naturally)

Eventually, I hear his door slam (he’s home from the gym) and then my phone ding.

TN: it’s with a guy

Me: hot

And so now I’ve cleverly detonated two bombs.  I’ve contacted Troy, whom I swore I would never speak to again, in a spasm of utter upheaval and retardation (yes, I said retardation) and, I have appeared unsettled to TN.  Oh wait, I’ve also shown all of you what a goddamned asshole I am, too.  So, that’s three bombs.

I feel like I’ve let you all down.  Me, TN, everyone.  I try so hard to keep my nose clean and do the right, chill, easy going thing, but now that I’ve fully admitted to my feelings for this young man next door it’s like I’m a live wire near a puddle.

Please.  Forgive me.

[Ed Note: I feel like it’s pertinent to add here that had he elaborated just a teeny bit in his answers about what he was doing tonight all my fears would have been alleviated.  He could have said, “Hitting the gym, then heading to John’s for dinner.”  But, no.  He plays coy like his life depends on it and I was weak tonight.  Plain and simple.  *sigh*] 

I was bullied by a Dom.

I had my first date with the Dom last night.  We talked briefly about D/s at the bar; only inasmuch as to make fun of the women who would contact him to rail against him.  He liked to respond to them with, “Give it a year or two, then you’ll understand,” and then he’d block them so he didn’t have to hear more ranting.  I told him that some women may never “get it” because it simply isn’t their thing, but it’s not an evolutionary problem on their part.  He conceded that much.

I wondered if I was being sub-by by standing up to him.  He didn’t seem to mind and I figured I’d just keep being myself.

He talked a lot about himself.  Pretty much exclusively.  He also talked about how he didn’t reward bad behavior.  I asked him if he was the judge and jury on that because it suddenly occurred to me that he was arbitrary and selfish.  He said yes.  I asked him who judged him on his bad behavior.  He looked startled.

The whole point of this date for me was to satisfy my curiosity.  I wanted to discern whether or not I could let go more during sex, become more submissive, trust more, allow myself to be taken care of.  All the sub fantasy type things.  I didn’t want to hook up with a domineering man with power issues.  That wasn’t my goal.  But that’s what I got.

I saw through him the second he walked in 2 inches shorter than he claimed and a not at all good-looking (he claimed to be “very good-looking”).  The guy was average.  As average as average can get.  Some might even consider him unattractive.  He was pompous and self-absorbed.  I understood the bravado as his way of expressing Dominance, but I also felt he was missing an integral piece to the whole thing: care.

He didn’t exert any effort to enlist my trust, to make sure I felt safe, to stroke any kind of sub-ego I might have had.  He was demanding, punitive and weird.  He didn’t give anything to me and it’s my understanding that a good Dom gives much to a sub.  He gives her his trust and his words of praise.  I would think at the very least the first time a Dom meets a woman who claims to not be a sub, per se, but enjoys being submissive, that he’d take great care to paint himself as the benevolent, yet demanding, leader of the pair.  This guy snaked his hand up my skirt to check if I was wearing panties.

Then, a few minutes later he stood up and said, “Let’s go.  We’re going to my house.”

I wasn’t so sure.  I was tired and I really wasn’t feeling it with this guy.  But, I thought, the sub thing to do would be to acquiesce.   So, I drove us a couple of blocks to his house.

It was only sprinkling then, but it’d been raining off and on all night.  I hear him yell at something and see a large dark shadow running around inside his fenced front yard.  More yelling, more dark shadow.  It was his dog, a black giant Schnauzer.

Inside he hands me a cigarette.  There’s a log in the fireplace already lit.  It’s the only light in the room except for his 30″ computer screen with a screen saver.  He shouts another command at the dog and disappears in the bathroom.  I play with the dog and get my hands dirty.  He smells wet and canine.

I hear the water running and the toilet flush multiple times.  I have no idea what he’s up to in there, but I survey my surroundings carefully.  There are Tudor beams high above me, shelves neatly stocked with art and books, and a soft leather sofa, boxy and modern.  I continue to pet the dog whose name the Dom had refused to give me.

When he comes out he stalks over to where I’m sitting.  The fire is to my right.  He spreads his feet and jams his hand down my shirt.  I’m so shocked I don’t even know what to say.  I think, “Am I being assaulted right now?”  I quickly determine that I’m not – at least not yet.  I let him fondle my other breast.

I’m waiting to feel something.

He angrily unbuckles his pants, pulls out his chubby cock, and jams it in my mouth.  I try not to laugh.  This is all so absurd to me.  But, I love to suck cock and so I do my best.   My cigarette is hanging over the fire and I’m trying to not burn him.  He slaps me and says, “Fucking concentrate.”

I admit to myself that I kind of liked that, but I’m still feeling strong irritation.  I feel off-balance and like I’m being pushed.  I wish that there was more kindness, more support.  This is new for me, after all.

I suck on his cock for a minute more, trying to lose myself in this act I love so much when he roughly pushes me back and flips me over, hikes up my skirt, rips my panties down.  I rear up and say, “You’re not going to fuck me without a condom.”  He hits me on my shoulder roughly and pushes me down, “I didn’t say I was going to fuck you.  I may not.”

My brain is telling me this is utter bullshit.  You don’t take a woman like me and insert her into this situation.  You just don’t.  You’re a goddamned idiot if you do.  Then his hand found my pussy and he started to stroke it.  Nicely, gently.  I thought, “Maybe I can do this…” His cock begins to slide between my ass cheeks literally like they’re hot dog buns.  It’s a strange sensation. I’m not sure I like it, but his fingers are doing a good job.  I keep myself from squirting; I don’t want to reward his bad behavior.

My mind is reeling and I’ve made it up I’m not going to fuck this twat.  I’m just not.  I didn’t want to even before I met him and I sure as fuck didn’t want to now.  I didn’t care if I was sweater-less, bent over his couch with my panties around my knees.  It wasn’t going to happen.

He flopped down onto the couch and his small stature was revealed more now that he lay bare before me.  He grabbed my head again and stuffed my mouth.  I could smell my own ass on him.  I wondered if this was part of trying to humilate me.  The scent wasn’t awful and I knew I was clean, so I started in on him. He  barked orders at me to relax.  He didn’t like my style and implied I was horrible at giving head when I was actually trying to make him cum.

It was his insult to my blowjob skills and the aroma of my own ass crack that were the last straws.  I had been hoping to make him cum and then leave soon after, but that plan was bust.

I pushed against him and said, “Dom, I don’t think this is going to work.  Maybe I’m just not sub enough.  I’m not liking this.”

He grabbed me again and forced my head down.  I had a moment of panic.  Of wondering if he’d let me go, if I was going to be truly hurt.  “NO,” I said firmly and sat up again.  “Really.  This just isn’t working for me.”

“Fuck you,” he hissed, “Get back on my fucking cock.  NOW.”

“No,” I said again, “It’s really a shame, too.  You have a very pretty cock.”

“Fine.  Get the fuck out and shut your mouth.  You’re so goddamned annoying.”

“There’s no need to call me names, Dom.  Please lift your feet so I can get my sweater.”  I was calm, but near giggles.  I’m not sure whether it was from the energy in the room or my pleasure at leaving.

“You cunt.  I can’t believe you’re leaving mid-blowjob.”

“Yep, me either.  That’s a first.  Later.”

And I disappeared into the wet night with a smile on my face.  Shaken up, but so proud of myself.  In my 20s I had a long history of doing things with men when I didn’t really feel like it.  The Dom is the first man I’ve felt this way with since then and I just rewrote history. 

I just rewrote fucking history, y’all.

I also may have discovered I’m really not a submissive.  Go figure.

I put up with a colossal prick because of his prick.

My relationship with Troy was a complicated one.  He was the first person I ever really didn’t like but with whom the sex was out of this world.  How could I so actively dislike someone, yet trust him enough to do debauched, trust-based sexual acts?  We fucked Jack together, we fucked Ray, we fucked my girlfriend (the one he eventually lied to me about) both with me and with Jack, and we even met a guy in a local Hilton just so he could suck him off and I could figuratively hold his hand (though, my pussy ended up holding his cock).

In the beginning he fucked me twice a week, whether my kid was in residence or not.  My little one would pass out, we’d turn on some music, and we’d go to town.  My kid never stirred or even knew he was there.  We plotted and planned to have a man join us.  He got us a joint AFF account and he was in almost constant contact with me about men we could meet.  I thought he was dramatic and vortex-like.  My alarms were going off like crazy, but I felt helpless to resist.

And then all the attention, it petered out.  He said insulting things to me; he wrote me nasty emails and yelled at me in front of my friends; talked to me about all the money he was spending on his other dates; would inundate me with graphic details of his sexual encounters with other women; call me at all hours of the night crying about his ex; and I was eventually relegated to only Tuesday nights – occasionally – and group sex; he even once screamed at me when I accidentally knocked him in the jaw as I turned around after he’d been finger fucking me.  The guy was a goddamned cruel mess.

Yet, I let him stay in my life and he continued to lean on me for relationship advice as he stumbled from woman to woman.  If the sex hadn’t been the best of my life, I would have dumped him the night he told me he could never date me longterm because I “had a kid, smoked, and was an alcoholic.”  I countered with, “Gee, at least I’m not an asshole.”  (And naturally, I’m not an alcoholic, smoked only whenever I wanted to, and, well, I don’t think having a kid is really the worst thing to have ever happened to me.  In fact, it’s the best.)  And never mind the fact that I’d never in a goddamned million years want to date him.

Long story short, Troy was a master in bed and a colossal prick out of it.  My natural reactions to his cruel intentions and manipulations were obliterated in the face of orgasms and MMFs.  I was a slave to the intrigue and the passion.  A stupid girl, not a savvy woman.

I told him I was through with him no less than 3 times.  I never do that.  Ever.  But Troy was also the only person who treated me badly then also apologized and begged for my forgiveness and friendship back.  The combination was always too much for me to resist.  His narcissism was so like my father’s that I was playing out a wish from a dark place inside of me.

With my ex friend, let’s call her Fuckface Lina, he used her against me in the cruelest way and she played right into it. One of her parting shots to me was, “Good luck not being second best anymore.” I laughed and thought dumping her was about 6 months past due. When Troy, Lina and I had a threesome, he spent way too much time with her. His excuse later was, “Hy, you know I like strange pussy. I didn’t want her to feel left out.” It was one of my worst sexual nightmares come true: being left out.

I share all of this because despite his ill-treatment of me, his specter looms large in my sexual life. When I get fucked by a man, I often think of Troy and what he’d be doing to me instead. His skill and intuition have been, as yet, completely unmatched. He always knew when to switch a position and just how to stroke me with his 8″ cock, what words to say, how to make me cum, and his stamina was unrivaled.

I’m heartbroken over this.

I have good, decent lovers in my life (I haven’t even written about The Neighbor yet, but trust me, that kid’s got skillz); men who care about me as a human being and my psyche. And still, I think of Troy. The guy who thought I was a piece of shit, told me so, and then betrayed my trust after begging for it back.

I guess sometimes good cock trumps good sense.  Now I just need to wait for the memories to get replaced and my head to get screwed back on.