Caution: May be habit-forming.
The first time I kissed the Music Man was a couple years ago. It goes down as number one in the top five most memorable kisses I’ve enjoyed, with just the right amounts of anticipation, tenderness, and perfect hand placement. Firm hands that didn’t stray into zones inappropriate for a first kiss (I may be wildly inappropriate at times, but I am not easy…). Lips that knew what they were doing and caused me to literally go weak in the knees for the first time in my life, had I been standing I would have stumbled. We kissed again, and again, and would doze off only to wake up for more.
It went no further, but it was perfect. When the night was over I hoped to make it happen again, his lips were addictive.
But it didn’t work out. We’ve remained great friends, but never more. Distance, bad timing, you name it there was a reason we didn’t recreate any magic…until recently.
A couple weeks ago my friends and I decided that since it was my birthday, there should be a fun party that involved copious amounts of alcohol and dancing (OK, so maybe I was the driving force behind the chosen activities, but it was my birthday so I got the say-so). Music Man came out for the good times and when I realized I had never seen him drunk before, I set out to correct that and he obliged because my wish had to be his command on my day.
I don’t think either of us got all that drunk, but it led to some good times on the dance floor. I had never made out with someone so publicly, even though apparently none of our friends saw us. The party continued for us much later that night in his room…taking things further than ever and liking it. Music Man is still very good with his hands.
And that’s how it came to be that I found myself last night, a wee bit tipsy and texting him to demand his presence for my satisfaction (after a bit of flirtatious banter, of course). And after all was said and done, he left me wanting to make him my sex slave. I used to think my ex was good until Music Man showed me otherwise. Do I dare say he’s the best I’ve ever had, or is too soon and too cliché?
Hi, I’m Maid of Cheek and I am addicted to Music Man. But in a good way.
Zebra is the New Black
For the longest time I have always relied heavily on my black underthings to be the sexy staple. Rarely, if ever, have I dallied into prints or bright colors for my bras. Many, many, many panties have been lacy, or intense colors, or sparkly, or what-have-you, but they have always complimented the black (perhaps with a little lace) bra.
Those were the sexy things. You remember 10 Things I Hate About You, don’t you? When they go through Kat’s room and find black panties and Bianca says it means she wants to have sex? I suppose that’s how I felt about it. I felt (and still feel) incredibly sexy in black underthings. How could you not?
I defy you to find a girl that doesn’t want to show off her black underwear…
To get back on track, today I bought the sexiest bra and panties I ever owned. They are not black. They are zebra print. Because zebra has always been by far my favorite print. It’s bold but pretty. Simple and chic, but manages to be daring and sexy.
It makes me want to show my stripes…
