The First Time w Harley

Our first time together was awesome. 

We went out a few times.  A lot of kissing.  Fair amount of hand holding.  A little bit of serious heavy petting.  But no sex.  Now, I don't know if men know it or not, but women do think about sex.  In this case, I wondered if or when Harley was going to make a move.  And how.  I think I spent a lot of time daydreaming about the "how".  Especially in the shower.  And early mornings when I was laying in bed.  Maybe I can be accused of being overly traditional too, but I was going to let him make the first move.  However, I had already decided that, if he did, I was good w it.

We were at dinner on maybe our third or fourth date.  I asked if he would like to go to Disney World w me.  I had many friends who worked there and had been given a few passes.  I don't remember now if I said that someday I wanted to stay a few days overnight in one of the Disney hotels or if Harley asked me first if I had ever stayed in a Disney hotel.  Either way, we finished dinner picking out the dates to go and stay for a few days.  And trust me, I made sure those dates were right around the corner too.

We spent the day at the Magic Kingdom and it was magical.  I had a blast w Harley.  He's a riot.  Splash Mountain has always been my favorite.  Harley was a big fan of the Pirates and Thunder Mountain.  As much fun as the day had been, it was nothing compared to the night.  And maybe because we each knew what the night would bring, Harley was being an awful tease.  His hands were always brushing against my private bits.  And a few times standing in line, he nibbled along the back of my neck.  (FYI, nothing gets my juices flowing like having my neck kissed). 

I was the one who finally asked if we could see if our room was ready.  God knows I was!!!

I cannot speak for all women.  Just for me.  Sometimes I like sex to be romantic and to be made love too.  And sometimes I simply want to be fucked.  Harley is an expert at both.

Romantic sex is hard to describe.  Harley insisted on carrying me across the thresh-hold into our room.  I later learned this was a long time fantasy of his (he rarely told me about any "fantasies").  Apparently, he had wanted to carry his wife across their thresh-hold when they married, but she put up a fuss.  I do not always understand women either!!!  Inside, I asked him to let me PLEASE shower first.  I was sweaty.  I felt dirty.  And I really wanted to slip into something special for him.  Ever the gentleman, Harley told me to take as long as I wanted.  I don't know if it matters to anyone, but we were staying at the Wilderness Lodge.  It was beautiful.   I wanted to hurry . . . and I wanted to relax at the same time . . . there was a swarm of butterflies in my tummy . . . I tried to focus on the task at hand . . . shower, make-up, hair . . . and then slip into what I hoped he was going to love.  I came out of the room wearing a white chemise, white thong, white hose, and after a lot of debate, white heels (I really was not sure about the heels.  A girlfriend had told me to do it.  It was way out of the box for me then).  I was surprised to see, when I left the bathroom, that he had brought candles to light the bedroom.  And in the candle-light, he visually took in every bit of me.  Harley made me feel like a priceless treasure.  Like I said though, its hard to really describe being made love too and all the feelings that are going through me.  I expected the clothes - my clothes - to be taken off immediately.  Silly me!!!  What I remember most (well, maybe not "most") is that my outfit did not come off!!!  We kissed, he nuzzled my neck, he took my breast into his mouth . . . I still get wet when I remember him doing that for the first time . . . then he removed my thong.  Only my thong.  He kept my heels on me so apparently my girlfriend had told me right.  And then he tasted me.  I cannot even begin to describe what I was feeling.  He would kiss me sometimes and I delighted at feeling my wetness on his lips.  In time, he came up between my legs.  Before he entered me that first time, he took my hands and held them in his above my head, he kissed me, then he raised up to stare into my eyes - w me looking back into his - while he slowly slid inside me.
 

Bend Me Over The Bed

I have been working on a post about my first time w Harley and . . . well . . . it caused a bit of a problem.  Let's just say that things have been a bit damp.  And if Daddy is home, then I have to keep checking that I don't have a huge wet spot in my crotch.  I needed help!!!  Laughing.

 

The obvious thing to do was call Harley.  Yeah, not so much.  The last few texts I sent to him got the one-word response back.  A buzz-kill I did not want.  I wanted someone that would pay attention to me - Yep, that means the Boyfriend. 

 

So, I called the Boyfriend.  What I wanted to say was, "will you bend me over and just fuck me".  What I did say was, "have you had breakfast yet?"  He said no and I told him I'd be right over.  I'm not sure what was driving me crazier - the anxiety or the growing wet spot on my pants.

He met me at his door expecting us to go out for breakfast.  My heart about to explode and no way I could just tell him what I wanted, I took his hand and directed him back inside to his bedroom.  I pushed him onto the bed, straddled him, and kissed him.  He smiled up at me, "did you want something?"  "GOD YES", I thought and of course didn't say.  Finally, I just worked up the courage to tell him.  Bend me over the bed.  Fuck me.  Don't ask, just take.

 

He's not great at it, but given the right amount of encouragement, Boyfriend can become somewhat aggressive.  He rolled me over and began removing my clothes.  I love being naked before my lover.  He pulled me up and told me to get onto my knees.  Then he lowered his pants.  Apparently, he was not fully prepared for me yet (smiling).  I took him between my lips and enjoyed the sensation of him becoming erect in my mouth.  After a bit, he stood me up and bent me over the bed.  In an added nice touch, he took my hands and put them behind my back.  And there I stood, waiting for him.  It was a strange feeling being in that position and not being able to see what he was doing. 

Eventually, he positioned himself up behind me and took hold of my hands behind my back.  He found my entry and pushed himself in.  I love that initially feeling of fullness. 

The Boyfriend simply stood behind me, w me impaled upon him, enjoying that initial feeling w me.  Then he began to fuck me.  No gentle increase in rhythm.  No tender words, "does that feel good".  Just full on hammer time.  In a few moments, he told me to get onto my knees on the edge of the bed.  Sliding back inside of me, he took hold of my hips rather than my hands.  He gripped my hips as hard as he was thrusting - which was pretty damned hard!!!  To be ridden as hard as possible was exactly what I wanted.  My head to the bed, my ass in the air, I just enjoyed it. 

Now, maybe I can finish my other post.

 

FFF

She was on the trail of the biggest story of her career.  "Hell", she thought, "of anyone's career".  It was her Watergate.  But she needed inside information.  She needed a "Deep Throat".

 

She cornered the detective in the gym.  It was the perfect set up.  No one was there and he was not expecting it.  But he wouldn't talk.  "Off the record", she finally said.

"Sorry", he responded, looking at her w suspicion, "I don't trust you not to have a digital recorder".

"Search me", she offered seductively.

"I have a better idea", he said smiling, then led her into the men's locker room.  She shrugged her shoulders and followed - she really wanted the story.  Moments later, she stood naked in the shower.

"Satisfied", she said, "no possible way I have any electronic devices on me".

"You do appear to be clean", he said smugly.

"So, you'll answer a few questions for me . . . off the record . . . just to head me in the right direction".

"Um, all we've agreed to is 'off the record' . . . you haven't told me what I'm getting out of this yet".

"Satisfaction w knowing that you helped maintain an informed public?"

"Yeah, don't care".

"What then", she asked, already getting down onto her knees.  She began the night needing a "Deep Throat".  She did not know she was going to be the deep throat.

First Date w Harley

I just finished this week's FFF.  Of course, it does not get posted for several more days.  Not exactly my finest piece, not high literature, but it made me smile.  And I wrote that hoping it would break the stranglehold my head has on anything to possibly post about.  Fiction I can write.  Trying to write about me is . . . . imagine me screaming and banging my head right now!!!

The first date w Harley was not what I expected.  I'm not really sure what I expected.  It's hard to explain - it wasn't like any other date I had ever been on.  He picked me up at the house.  As I remember it, I had offered to meet him somewhere else too.  Yes, I will admit it.  I still lived at home.  And I was not looking forward to explaining the age difference to Mom and Dad.  I did not realize it until I now when I am telling the story, just like Tree had years later, Harley made it very clear that he was picking me up at my door and bringing me back to my door. 

 

Harley arrived early.  I had tried to be ready and waiting on him so that I could just run out when he got there, but my getting ready never does seem to go as planned.  It's a girl thing.  I was still rushing when the doorbell rang.  I felt like he arrived hours early, but I guess it was really just five minutes or so.  I tell you that I had literally spent all day getting ready.  I was worse than a girl going to prom.  Hours - I had spent hours - getting my hair done, nails done, make-up just right, and a dress to knock his eyes out.  I walked into the living room, scared that I was already sweating from anxiety, only to feel immediately under-dressed when I saw him.  He had on a three piece suit that was obviously made to fit his frame.  And what a frame!  Except for prom, I had never been out w a man that wasn't wearing jeans.  Harley was the most beautiful man I had ever seen.  But what I remember most was how he made me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world.  He stopped talking mid-sentence to my father, got up and walked over to me, told me I looked beautiful, then led me back to sit down beside him on the sofa.  It wasn't really what he said as how he looked at me when he said it.  I know, I'm going on and on about a little nothing of a thing, but I will never forget it.

 

He took me out to dinner.  At the time, it was the fanciest restaurant I had ever been too.  We talked for hours.  After dinner, we walked around a small lake that was outside the restaurant, sitting periodically on the benches.  No sex.  He made no move for that.  We just kissed.  And a lot of hand holding.  Okay, there was a lot of kissing too.  I like kissing.

 

That was our first date.  I hate the anxiety of a first date, but truth is I love first dates.  Everything is so new and there are a world of possibilities.  I like going on first dates and I love hearing about someone else's first dates.  A first date is like the first scene in a good movie - it gets you hooked for what's to come.  I guess I like dreaming about the possibilities.

How It Began W Harley

I have been trying to write something . . . anything . . . all day w/o success.  Been trolling the internet for ideas.  Nothing.  Nada.  Zip.  Unless I want to rant about social issues dominating the news.  And its not that I don't want to rant.  It's that I'm trying not too.

When in doubt, talk about Harley.  Harley - my "go to" topic.

Believe it or not, but I resist talking about Harley. If I followed my impulses, I would be posting daily about Harley. And then everyone, especially me, would get sick of listening to me drone on about our relationship.  It reads like some "Twilight" saga (and I hated that movie - vampires don't "sparkle"!!!).

I still do love him.  But 'not loving' him just does not seem to be an option for me.

We met when I was working as a waitress. A fair amount of law enforcement ate at our place. Most flirted w me and I flirted back w the polite ones. A few asked me out. But I already knew all about 'badge bunnies' and I had no desire to be treated like one, so I politely declined claiming to have a boyfriend. The boyfriend was mostly imaginary, though I would have one off and on. I had been w the place for a while before Harley moved into the area and was hired by the Sheriff's Department. I fear Harley or the other guys would not appreciate this comparison, but this is how I am going to describe him - when he sat w those pack of wolves, it was immediately obvious that he was the alpha wolf. And, for the record, I like wolves, so this in not intended as a slam towards the guys or cops in general. Oh my God was he a flirt too, but also the most polite man you had ever met.

He usually met up w others, but sometimes he would come by himself. It was not uncommon for me to sit and talk w the guys, if business was slow and there were only a few of them at the table. Harley learned my boyfriend was fictional, but never gave away the secret. I knew he was married and knew this was why he never hit on me (not that being married ever stopped any of the others from hitting one me). He came in one day really down and I asked him what was wrong. That's when I learned they had seperated and were planning to divorce. I tried to buy his dinner that night, but he just made sure to leave an extra large tip which he knew would cover the dinner too. He was always frustrating in how he preferred (insisted) he do for you; rather than allowing you to do anything for him. And mostly this is how it went. He came in, he ate, we talked, we laughed, and he left. If it was extra late when he came in, he often stayed till the girls were ready to leave, then he would walk us to our cars. I liked to think he always walked me last to mine.

One night - and I really can not explain why except to say a it was a few weeks before Christmas and I was in a really good holiday mood - when Harley was walking me to my car, I asked him to wait for a moment. I pulled out a pen and paper, then proceeded to give him my phone number. Unasked. I forget what dorky thing I said, something like he didn't have to call me if he did not want, but if he wanted to ever get together . . . well, you know. Smooth I was not. I suddenly knew how some boys in high school felt. You know the ones, they ask you out by saying something like, "if you have nothing better to do Saturday, do you want to go out". Lame. So lame.  In that split second, I had more empathy and compassion for every boy who ever tried to ask me out.  Initially excited that I had actually done it, I felt like a complete idiot when driving away. Harley was nearly 20 years older than me. He probably thought I was some schoolgirl. I was still mentally beating myself up when, fifteen minutes later, he called.

FFF

The ingenue looked into the mirror at her dressing table.  She half expected to see the director walking through  door into her room.  Although, it could have also been the producer or the play's leading man.  God knows each bitched often enough about how she failed to meet this cue or failed to give that line right.  She wished they would just all come at once and get it over with so that she didn't need to listen to it over and over again.  She was surprised when it was none of the above.  Instead, it was the producer's manservant.

"Master says you - and I quote - fucked it all up again tonight".

 

She continued to remove her make-up and saw no reason to respond.  She was not going to get cut, no matter how badly she performed; not as long as she was her mother's daughter.  And mom, she thought glancing at the clock, was probably on her knees right about then thanking step-daddy for being such a wonderful provider and being the primary investor for  the God-awful play her daughter for which her daughter had surprisingly been cast.  If the producer wanted to bitch at her, let him man up and come do it himself - she was not going to deal w a servant.  At least, that had been her thinking.  James apparently had different way of thinking.

He pressed her forward onto the dresser and into the mirror, then he lifted her up by her costume until her ass was in the air.  "Master wanted to know since you are so proficient in fucking up his play if you are equally talented in fucking.  I proposed I would find out".

When he released her to remove his "interrigation instrument", she started to stand up immediately.  He smacked her ass, pressing her back into position, and said "no".  She opened her mouth to scream.  He smacked her ass - harder this time - and said, "I said NO".

"Yes sir" was her only response.

-------------------------------------------

Share an experience that happened at a performance?  I'm not sure if I'm an exhibitionist or if I just end up in situations; either way, there have been a few experiences surrounding performances.  The first one that comes to mind is w Harley.  He took me back to my high school for a football game.  And in keeping w the spirit of high school, we left early to make out in his truck.

I Broke Up W Tree

I broke up w Tree.  I walked up on him getting a blowjob from an ex and that tends to be a relationship buzzkill for me.  I suppose that's when I also started to spiral down.  To be fair, I had already been feeling a bit down.  And work had been extra-stressful (when is it not!), so I had been more tired lately.  All in all, I was not being a real fun girlfriend.  Still, I was a long ways from being a boring or neglectful girlfriend too.  I had decided one evening, in an out of the blue sort of way, to surprise Tree when he got off work.  I stopped to get him a milkshake (he loves milkshakes). My thought process was to tell him to suck on that while I sucked on him.  As I always am to pretty much everything, I was running late so I was worried he might be gone when I got there.  I didn't want to call him because I wanted it to be a surprise.  I pull in and see that his truck is still there and he's actually sitting in it.  Joy!!  In my mind, I had timed it just right.  I go bounding up to his window.  It wasn't until I jumped on his side rail step bars that I could actually see into the truck - and see her brown hair bobbing up and down on his dick. I went from excited to devastated in a single heartbeat.  I just left.  No drama.  Tree made no effort to get out of his truck to talk w me and I am actually glad that he didn't.  He did text me later that evening saying, "I'm sorry".  And that's how we ended.

I say my downward spiral started around then.  I do not blame Tree for it though.  There other things going on too.  Yes, I was a little hurt and a little angry w him, but nothing that had me sticking pins in a voodoo doll.  If he had needed a blowjob or attention, all he had to do was say something to me.  As for the other woman, I had only seen her face for a moment, but I knew her to be his ex-girlfriend.  And I had long suspected he had never gotten over her.  Later, I heard from someone else that she had only just broken up w her boyfriend and she had also come to see Tree in an out of the blue sort of way (apparently she and I thought alike).  I was more mad at myself at falling for a guy who was still hung up on someone else. 

I actually do a pretty good job of beating myself up for things that happen.  Therapist say . . . well, he says a lot of things about that and over time maybe I will stop doing it so much.   
 

The Perfect Storm

Hey there - remember me?

A lot has happended since I fell off the face of planet Blogger.  I really would not know where to even begin.  Yes, I could start at the beginning, but there is a lot at the beginning which I do not want to talk about.  I did not intentionally drop off the planet.  Some things happened which upset me pretty badly.  When I went to my laptop to write about it and maybe email a few close friends, my laptop would not turn on.  And then cell phone went all crazy.  It kept chirping that the battery was dying - even after I had replaced the battery - and would not hold a charge for more than an hour.  I got new phone before I got another laptop, but it would not let me use my secret identity to get into Blogger.  Long story short (too late for that, huh), my world was falling apart and I was cut off from the one place I came to talk about the sort of things that were happening.  It was a bit like the perfect storm.

And the longer I went without talking to anyone, the harder it was to be willing to talk.

Anyway, I'm alive.  I appreciate those who asked about me.  I'm sorry for being a bad person and not getting back to anyone.  There's really no good excuse in that, though I have loads of bad excuses.  I have missed you and I do appreciate you all.

I hope to write more soon.

And Advizor, I really loved the one picture with the naked girl playing chess.  Dang sorry I missed that one.