I Like To Try New Things
Me: I mean, I don’t think I’m that much of a freak, but I like a lot of scratching and biting. But I love when people are just themselves…you know?
Sir Hollywood: Would you be interested in going to a fetish ball? Would…
Me: Yeah…that would be fun.
Sir Hollywood: You have to get dressed up and you don’t have to do anything, and…
Me: Um, yes, that would be so much fun and I love it, let’s do it. That’s awesome.
Sir Hollywood: I’ll find out when the next one is and we’ll see if we can do it.
I have a very sly smile on my face right now.
And another quote from my very good friend, Sir Hollywood: I like to hear that my friends have had good sex, it’s almost as if I’ve had really good sex too…
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.
Awkward Shopping Moments
Between work and another thing today I stopped into the bookstore thinking I might find a little something I couldn’t live without (I love books, I should tell you). I hadn’t gone in bookstore in a while, actually, because I have such a tall stack of need-to-be-reads already.
So I was perusing the fiction area, checking out what was new and saw that Agent Provocateur has come out with two little collections of erotic fiction titled Confessions and Secrets respectively. I picked up Confessions and skimmed through it, decided it was something I could definitely use in the future and held onto it as I continued to look around.
I remembered I wanted to look for a certain CD (The Weepies, highly recommended), and yes I know I could probably find it much cheaper somewhere else but I figured if they had it I’d just get it to put an end to my search (and it wouldn’t allow me to forget). It was one of those places that lumps most music genres together in a way that is a little frustrating as the things you’re looking for are not Pop Rock at all, but since they wouldn’t end up in the Hip-Hop or Classical sections you have to search through the whole big one. The gentleman working there asked if he could help me and I told him what I was looking for, he found it in the computer and showed me to the teeny-tiny Folk section (which actually made sense) where he found it right away.
I started to walk towards the front of the store to go ahead and pay for my things when he said, “If you’re ready to check-out I can do that here.”
Now, this guy was a really nice, sweet person, but he could have been my dad. He was probably old enough to have a kid my age or at least in high school or something. Handing over my book of sexy stories made me cringe on the inside a little. I wasn’t so much embarrassed, and I managed to be nonchalant about the whole thing, but it was a little awkward.
If only it had been a really cute bookworm, I may have been able to look him in the eye and maybe even throw in a wink.
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…
