In the wake of this past weekend, my nipples are sore, my clitoris is swollen, and in the words of some rap song, The Syrian…
“broke that pussy wide open”
Oh my God. He sure did. After The Syrian’s disappointing visit to Trinidad, I went to Tobago this weekend not really expecting much. As a matter of fact, I went to Tobago intending to be proactive about my fun. I would do whatever I wanted, and fuck The Syrian if he did not have fun in the process. Later, I would come to realise that the operative word was “fuck”.
First. Some corrections. The Syrian is 28, not the 26 or 27 that I said before. Secondly, The Syrian has mossy green eyes, not the brown that they look in the dark.
I will spare all a lengthy, detailed entry of my rendezvous. Let’s just say, that I spent most of the weekend in his room. Let’s say more. Let’s say that I was shocked when he turned me around and fucked my g-spot. Let’s say that the orgasm I got was a shocker. We came together that time actually. Though that would be the only time we came at the same time.
He would later fuck the be-jeebus out of me. He tapped my cervix. He more than tapped it. He tapped my g-spot. He abused it. I could not stop cumming. And when he grew tired, we would lie down for an hour together, maybe more, and sleep in each other’s arms. Then one of us would get horny and wake the other up, and the marathon fucking continued. But the thing was he never came again. Not from sex. To make him cum, I would have to give him a blow job.
He came pretty easily from a BJ, actually. Isn’t that a bit strange? He’d be fucking me hard and fast, but he never came. I suck his dick for five minutes, he’s moaning and ejaculating into my mouth. That is so contrary, because I am sure for most guys, it is the other way around. You suck them for 20 minutes, they don’t come. They fuck you for 5 minutes, and they collapse over you.
Still, the way it was with The Syrian was a bit convenient – that way we’d fuck for hours (with breaks in between) because a lack of orgasm on his part meant that he never really lost his hard-on, and I would cum at least 3 times before I felt sorry for him and decide to give him release in the form of a BJ.
That was how it was the first day I was there – the Saturday. We’d have sex for an hour or so, sleep, wake up, more sex, sleep together again, wake up, more sex. Blow job. Sleep for a few hours. Wake up, more sex. And so it went.
We had sex in the shower – first time for me. I’ve discovered that I love giving BJs in the shower with the water running down my face. Apart from the feeling like I could stay under the water with The Syrian’s dick in my mouth forever, the water running over your face does a quick and efficient job of post-cum-in-the-mouth clean up. He ate me out in the shower, too. The he turned me around and fucked me until my legs were trembling, and I could barely stand. But the water was washing away the wetness between my legs, making me dry quite quickly, and fucking cumbersome, so we soon would retire to the bed.
Another thing I learnt this weekend is that I love being on top with The Syrian. With all the other guys I’ve been with, I get tired really quickly from being on top. Not with The Syrian. To put it the way The Syrian would…
“It’s like I have too much energy.”
I would start off slow, but for some reason that penis of his hits my g-spot no matter the sexual position, and I would ride him until I saw the blood drain from his face – but he never came. Perhaps this new strength in my legs is due to a slight change in technique when I’m on top (I’ve also changed my BJ’ing technique slightly since the end of my celibacy – to the better, it seems), or perhaps it is due to my new found passion of jumping rope – even Zodiac noticed that my legs looked more defined when we went to the mall on Friday. And when I say “passion”, I mean that I’ve skipped rope twice in the past 2 weeks – though my legs do look better!
We did other things – we went out to get stuff to eat, because he had no kitchen in his room. We did all of the new-couple things like hold hands, and stand close, touching and kissing. We hung out with his Syrian friends by the pool on Saturday night, as well. Here is the sum of my Arabic thus far:
Sharmut – man-whore
Sharmuta – female-whore
Ra’ib – rain
Zib – dick
Koos – pussy
Hoe’w – take it
Habeebay – special friend
A’ire ra feek – fuck you
They taught me more, but I forget. I remember every singly cuss word though.
Of course, after his friends left, we had more sex. Then we slept together like we did the first night I met him.
The Sunday, we managed to fit in a trip to the beach in between the sex.
All in all, it was quite nice. A mixture of sexual and relaxing. Yes! Relaxing! We slept almost as much as we had sex. And plus, I got a full body massage, which almost made me fall asleep if he didn’t eventually turn it into a full pussy massage. Not that I complained.
Thirty hours, and at least 10 condoms (though more, I think) later, I am on my plane back to Trinidad, which, after being 45 minutes late, I caught by the skin of my teeth.
I have serious feelings for this guy, and I know he has the same for me. Sure, he said he loved me, but I don’t know if that is really the extent of it. And on that point, I am not sure if it is the same for me. The odd thing is, I also have feelings for Zodiac, who I admitted to Raj I would be with if I were not superficial about his “zoftig” (understatement of the millennium) physique. I admitted to Raj I would not mind fucking around with him just to prove that I could physically distract him from his girlfriend. So what is all of this? Why all of these scattered feelings and wayward thoughts? And what does it all mean?
Frankly, I think it means that I prefer new / out-of-the-ordinary / dangerous experiences to stability. But who knows? Frankly, I do not care beyond keeping all options open (that means not irreparably fucking up things with anyone) and doing what ever I want to do at that point in time.
Men spoil me too much.
Anyways, time to put an ice-pack on my pussy and go to sleep.
“I’m going to go ice my balls and throw up blood.” – Vince Vaughn, Wedding Crashers