December 11, 2010
Logan
Last night I went to my second college party. You see, most of the parties I go to are military hosted, or at least attended by military guys. I just haven't been part of the college crowd. But this party wasn't bad- a step up from the first college party I went to anyway. But I didn't expect to see much action, something almost guaranteed when throwing down with Coasties and Sailors. Math, however, had other plans for me. At first, she tried to shove this Cuban guy at me. I wasn't interested, though, so I pawned him off on Snortgiggles. Later, Math informed me that there was a tall and lanky (totally my type in a nutshell) blond guy getting a little frisky back in the garage where everyone was dancing. Needless ti say, she decided it was her duty to sick me on him and I happily obliged. When I opened the door to the garage, he was at the bottom of the steps. I smiled and brushed against him on my way down and he caught me by the waist and introduced himself. Boy was he tall! Like, I couldn't even stand on the tip of my toes and meet him eye-to-eye tall, so I moved up a couple steps and introduced myself as well. He liked my name, which I always find on the sexy side. That's how we began dancing- him on the garage floor and me on the steps. It was a little awkward I suppose, but we made it work. Besides, when under the influence of vodka, rum, and lust, who really cares? Then I decided to be aggressive and kissed him. Somehow kissing him lead to me being pulled down to the floor followed by hot grinding and heavy caressing. Have you ever tried to grind against someone whose waist is several inches higher than yours? I don't think I recommend it, haha. I can't say it was a bad night, though. I got a little action and discovered two important truths:
I love tall guys. I do. Something about their height awakens some primal force inside me that leaves me drooling. Perhaps on a subconscious level, I associate height with a guy's ability to protect me and handle his own. Whatever the reason, I love it. But perhaps there is such a thing as too tall...Sad, I know, but it would be nice if my pelvis and the pelvis of my guy somewhat lined up. Just saying.
Also, I love being the seductress. I knew exactly what I was doing when I made my way to that garage. I knew what I wanted and I was determined to get it. It's just so thrilling to turn on the sexy side of myself and go on the prowl. I don't, unfortunately, like to be the aggressor when it comes to kissing. I love being kissed aggressively, but I hate initiating it. I think this is because once I snag the guy, I want him to take control. For the most part, I'm in control of every aspect of my life. I'm just very in control of everything I do. So when I'm ready to get all hot and bothered, I want the guy to take the reins from me. I want to surrender and be dominated. I want him to show me what he can do, and once that bit of play is established, I'll happily fight for power. But please, you kiss me first. Kiss me hard and wild like your life and mine depend on it. And by all means don't be shy to bite. Or use some tongue. Sure, I don't want to feel like a dog is slobbering all over me, but your 5 o'clock shadow and winter dry lips aren't as pleasant as they could be. Let's lubricate!
scullerymaid at 5:01 p.m.