I get more help from my friends. And I suck his cock.







Pussy-licking devil jokes aside, Noodle’s advice was good.  I felt (somewhat) relaxed and confident.  A minute or two later  the obnoxious fella who was going to meet me out tonight, Wednesday, texted me.  He wanted to join me for a drink.  I conferred with my dating coach and she said, “Do it!  It’ll give you a reason for being there!”

He was a young (27), blonde, Bill Pullman type with lacquered black jeans and a too tight pearl snap shirt. He wore his insecurities high on his flag pole.  There was no avoiding them.  We clicked in a mismatched way.  I was far too perceptive, he was far too sensitive.  The thick, warm summer breeze tossed his locks like in a shampoo commercial.  He squeezed my waist with his hand and pulled me close.  I let him.

We chatted, he flirted, we kissed. I liked his weird, nervous energy. When I was done with my last glass of wine we closed out and made a deal. He wanted to come home with me, but, “We’re not having sex,” I told him. “No touching, no hands, no fondling, nothing.”  He agreed.

“We’re just getting tanked. Got it.”  He laughed his baby-faced laugh.

He followed me home and watched the sway of my hips up the 40 steps to my front door. I filled two wine glasses, pumped up my music, and we sat outside.

He kept going to dark places and I kept pulling him out.  “These kinds of chats aren’t meant for first dates,” I said.

He touched my legs and massaged a foot. Eventually, I straddled him and kissed him passionately. He spanked me and moaned that he’d destroy me in bed. I reminded him of our pact.

“Yeah, I know,” he mumbled into my lips.

The velvety night around us layered upon the wine which wound its way through my brain and limbs.  I felt heavenly and happy.  Completely and utterly distracted.

“When was the last time you had sex?” he asked me suddenly.

I looked down at my bruised knees and thought of beefy, but nerdy.  I took a breath and forged ahead.  “Yesterday.”  He went rigid in his chair like he just went from cooked to raw spaghetti.

“And before that?”


With who??”

“Well, yesterday was with a cool guy I know and Thursday was with my neighbor.”

“That neighbor?!?” he emphatically waved over at The Neighbor’s black balcony.

“Yeah.  But it’s over.  It’s no biggie.”  I could tell that he was having a hard time processing.  I gently brought him back around, assured him none of it meant anything and that I really dug him as much as he dug me.  He relaxed under my words and pulled me back onto his lap.

“I really have to go.  I can’t stay.  I will end up trying to fuck you if I stay and I can’t.  It’s only our first date.”

I tried to persuade him, but he was firm.  I walked him to the door, gave him a hug and a kiss and he left.  It was 2 am.

I wobbled back to my phone and picked it up.  TN had texted 15 minutes earlier.  He wanted to know why he wasn’t invited to my party with Downstairs Neighbor.

“Come over.” I texted back.

“Can’t.  Naked.”

“Put on your pants.  Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Who’s there?”

“Your boyfriend.”



Then, KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.  His sweet, pale face and icy blue eyes were a sight for sore eyes.  I hadn’t seen him in days.  The strap on my sundress had just broken and it flopped down over my black bra and swung lazily from the swell of my breast.  I hiked it up when I saw him looking at it.

“Who was over here, Hy?”

“Oh, nobody.  Just some kid who ran out because he was afraid of fucking me.”

He raised his eyebrows.  “Really?”

“Yeah, really.  But, whatever.  What’s up?”

We lay on the couch together, as we always do, and canoodled.  I told him I’d gone out to avoid him.  He looked sad.  I told him to fuck off.  “You’ve been with your goddamned girlfriend every night since Friday.  I couldn’t take it any more.”

“I wasn’t!  I was only with her two nights!”

“Well, whatever.”  I crawled up his chest and got nose to nose with him.  We just sat there looking at each other.  Me, bleary and drunk.  Him, well, him.  “You cheated on Thursday.” I said flatly.

“Yes, I did.”

“You’re cheating right now.”

“I know.”

“What are you going to do about it?”

“Nothing.  I don’t know.”

His erection was huge and pressed up against the cradle of my hips.  We were still nose to nose, his sweet breath tripped over my mouth.  I inhaled hungrily and ground against him.  “How about this?”

I dipped my mouth to his and watched his eyes as our lips touched.  I closed my eyes when he did.  He grabbed the back of my head and crushed me to him.  I kissed him like I know he loves to be kissed and nibbled his neck and lowered down to his arousal.  His fucking cock pulsed and jumped for me.

I pulled his basketball shorts aside and gripped his shaft.  He moaned.  I looked at him again for permission.  He made no move to stop me.  I bent my head and took him in my mouth, his salty precum a decadent treat.  “Fuck, I love your mouth, Hy.  You are so good at that.”  His hands were on my head holding my hair back, his eyes locked on my face.  The taste of his skin, the stretch of my mouth around him, the pure awfulness of it all made my pussy gush.

I sat up and straddled him, but then jumped off and ran into my room.  I came back with two golden wrappers.  The meaning was implicit.  “You’ve had sex,” he said.

“Yeah, I did.  With a nice guy.  I like him.  We wrestled.”  He looked wounded.  “What?  You’re over there fucking your girlfriend.”  I said it matter of factly with no trace of malice.

“Yeah, I know.”  The pain on his face was endearing.

I sauntered over to him and climbed back on him, but the mood had shifted.  The reality of using condoms had pierced whatever revery he’d constructed to be with me.  “I can’t,” was all he said.  The bubble had been burst.

I didn’t push the matter.  It was enough.  We lay in each other’s arms and discussed him vacuuming for me before my friend arrives Friday.  “I’m going to make you wear my panties.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yep.  And you’re going to love it.”

“It’s true.  I’ll wear them for you, Hy.  I promise.  I always wear them for you.”

He left then and I went back to my phone.  It was 3:30.  Bill Pullman with the painted on pants had called me and texted; completely flipped out over the news I’d had sex the night before.  He called me a ho.

When I could catch my breath from my hysterical laughing I texted him to get a grip and that we probably shouldn’t go any further.

This morning he said he was “beyond pissed.”  I told him I couldn’t figure out what his problem was and that calling me a ho was laughable.  He said, “What’s laughable is your description of your body.”  I laughed so hard again I nearly cried.  I describe myself as having rounded arms, breasts, hips and a curvy form (and that it’s not a euphemism for fat); that if you imagine a farmgirl, that’s me.  I even give my measurements (43-32-44).

I told him “Peace out.  lol” and it enraged him again.  I deleted him out of my phone and texted TN to set a time for vacuuming.  When I get back from my party tonight I’m going to call him.

All I can think about is what panties to put him in.

A 40-something single mother who writes honestly about sex, body image, D/s, relationships, her nervous tics, and how much she loves to fucking fuck. She also likes to show you her tits.

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40 thoughts on “I get more help from my friends. And I suck his cock.
    1. Who knows… I’m about ready to jump off a bridge. Or push him off of one.

      It’s the proximity, I swear it. If we had space none of this would be happening and everyone would be proud of me for staying away instead of cringing with each of my posts and wagging a finger at me. Sucks :(

  1. :-(
    Short of one of you moving, you don’t seem to be able to make yourself stop. You’ve been sad and depressed for days, bu the second he looks at you all the things you know you should do fly out the window. You’re only hurting yourself with this continued drama. Your therapist is right- he IS an asshole. Everyone sees it but you.

    Bill Pullman sounds like a fucking moron.

      1. TN is the last person you should be talking about it with. You guys talk and talk, come to conclusions, then nothing is every resolved. It’s all just words if you don’t follow through. You keep getting back on to the ride with him no matter what, and he knows it. Everything he says to you is bullshit platitudes that don’t change the facts.

        You can make a million and one excuses but the hard truth is, if he doesn’t move, you have to. It might be Peyton’s home, but it hasn’t always been- which means Peyton can handle a relocation. I think you and Peyton could only benefit from you taking control of your life and moving somewhere that TN isn’t next door. You don’t think you are addicted to him, but you are hitting EVERY marker for self destructive addict behavior.

        Did what your ex had to say about Mary yesterday give you hope that if you put up with this shit that TN will realize what he’s done?

        I think you are tying too much of your value to TN to sex. Truth is, if you ever wanted him to even consider you for a moment, you NEED TO STOP Throwing yourself at him. As long as you keep this up he is never going to take you or anything you say seriously. You know the saying… “Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free.” What would be TN’s reason for commiting to you? You consistently show him that he can treat you however he wants and you will still fuck him. He was gone for four nights and you were in agony, but the second he was back you disregarded your own personal value and did something that you know isn’t going to lead to a happy ending.

        That may seem harsh but it’s true. People learn what they live. He’s had these talks with you dozens of times- but what you aren’t seeing is that he doesn’t believe you when you say the words. The fact that he doesn’t have enough respect or concern about you as a human being to stop playing his games is really ridiculous. It is a shame that you don’t see that.

        1. I DO see it. What I want to say to him is, short of one of us moving, we have to stop. That I’m worth more than the way I’m letting him treat me, that what he’s doing to 4 am — as much as I hate to admit it — is awful, and that I won’t allow it any longer.

          Having alcohol in me around him has disastrous results, so I’m going to do my best to avoid that situation, but it’s hard when we’re three feet apart and I’m just living my life and he keeps intruding, and drunk, I let him.

          Though, let’s be honest, I would sober, too. I have an excruciatingly difficult time turning anyone away when they want to be with me: friend, lover, anyone. They need a piece of me and I can’t refuse. It’s how I’ve always been and it’s something I’m trying to master now.

          I like that you don’t hold punches, Ella. Thanks for that. It forces me to further define my own thoughts and feelings about all of this.

          I’m going to talk to him because I believe it will work, that I can get him to leave me alone again, get a sense of my own control back. I do NOT think he is ever going to commit to me. My ex and Mary only made me realize what I want even more.

          A lot has happened in my heart and head over the past 24 hours or so. I’m still mulling things over, but it’s a good thing. The big thing that’s pertinent here is that I believe knowing and fucking me is a privilege and I’d like to start acing like it.

          First stop: TN.

      2. Sorry … I’m going to pipe in again. I can’t emphasize enough how right Ella is. Let’s review what YOU just said …

        “… Having alcohol in me around him has disastrous results … ” no shit Batman, that’s why the Shirley Temple prescription.

        ” … I’m just living my life and he keeps intruding … ” Now if that isn’t a blatant rationalization, I’ve never heard one. You invite him in and then proceed to suck his cock. He’s intruding?

        ” … I’m going to talk to him because I believe it will work, that I can get him to leave me alone again … ” Not that he really gives a rat’s ass, but how is he going to leave you alone when you still crave him and invite him in every chance you get. He is indeed your problem, but he definitely is not your solution. YOU have to fix HY … don’t depend on TN to fix “you”.

        I concur with Ella … talking to TN is worse than useless … just another round on the merry-go-round. He can promise you the world, but he sees no need to come through. Shit … you are his addict and he’s your pusher. Get off the horse and put your feet on firm ground.


  2. Hy…..sorry but I’m with Ella and Mike on this one….stop the madness for your own good. You’ve fallen into the pattern of rationalizing and justifying and the damage will tear you apart. You aren’t going to feel good about yourself if you keep this up sweetie. Honestly….if at all possible…take a moratorium from men altogether for at least a month. Remember that promise you made to yourself? I know (believe me..I know) you will miss the sex…but it’s not a big deal…sex will still be there. Get your head straight and your heart will follow. All the other stuff (beefcake included) is just a distraction you’re using to hurt TN…and yourself….it won’t work. He doesn’t miss YOU…he misses the SEX and knows how to use it against you. Harsh, sad, and true.

    JUST SAY NO…..and that includes the drinking for awhile…with a clear head you’ll be amazed at the strength you’ll have to walk away from that which hurts you.

    All with love sweetie….xoxox

    1. I noticed that Hy mentioned that he looked sad or wounded more than once in the post, and judging by your response (particularly the end of the first paragraph) you did too Deviant. I wanted to point it out to Hy but I wasn’t sure I should.

      Mike, everything you said is also spot on. Particularly about Hy being the addict and TN being the pusher. He’s promised her at least a dozen times that he will stop, but he never does.

      Hy, honey, you are projecting on to TN that which you want to see. Sadness and longing in his face, a wounded expression. You even glossed over the fact that he blatantly lied to your face about only being there for two nights. You saw the car gone for four. It was four. He downplayed it. Not that it should matter. He has a girlfriend. You’re torturing yourself.

      <3 All the love, really. Continuing to see, talk. deal with, plead, bargain and beg TN is hurting you far more than you realize. The talk wont work this time either. It never does. You say you want to talk to him and make him realize he has to stop, but a few hours ago you were giddy and wondering what underwear to make him wear. This isn't good for you. Not one bit.

  3. PS: Knowing and fucking you IS a privilege, and you need to remember that. Tattoo that shit on to your hands if you need to.


  4. I think it’s time you hold him prisinor in your bathroom until you’ve had enough of him and he promises to move to another state. Fuck him crazy until then – gag him so no one hears his screams and MAYBE things will change. I started seeing a trend of comments that weren’t taking hold so it’s OBVIOUSLY time to change your approach. You’re Welcome. J

      1. sometimes, doing what you would never do – can jolt a pattern – fuck it – knock on their dor and make it a threesome – scare them. You have nothing to lose! Can you imagine how shocked they both would be if you knocked, asked to come in and suggestd that)

  5. I’m always the last one to arrive! Sounds like everyone else has already said what I wanna say. I’ll just say….je t’aime énormément, je veux que tu sois heureuse chaque jour de ta vie.


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