The following is an excerpt from my journal. It is about an experience I had with a very close friend of mine. It’s all true. Every word of it happened to me. It all came straight from my journal and is unedited. As a grammarian, my grammar in it really bothers me, but what I didn’t want to lose the meaning by editing it.
It is less about sex than it is about the connection we shared through sex. If you are looking for a story with more eroticism, I would suggest looking for another. There is more about our connection than they actual sex we had and the decriptions of our sexual acts are not detailed.
Happy reading, and please let me know what you think of it, this is my frist submission so comments and suggestions would be greatly appreciated!!!
Thanks for reading!!!
What the hell was that? Did that seriously just happen? Is this really how my year is going to start? What the fuck.
So there we were, lying in bad and she was rubbing my back. I don’t remember how that happened, but whatever; I probably said something about being jealous because I think he was rubbing her back. I don’t know… Wait, how did I end up in her bed in the first place? …………. I think she pulled me in……… It was a joke though…… right? Wasn’t she joking when she did it? …………… Shit, was that her plan? A joke to get me lying next to her? So she could try something new? No. Can’t be. She’s too torn up about it. No way she planned that. No way…
So she was rubbing my back. It felt damn good too, it’s being a while since I had a good backrub. Then she started running her nails very lightly across my back, my shoulders, and my sides. Now that felt really good. That’s when my brain turned on:
-Whoa, what’s this? Is she… No, it’s just a friendly backrub –
Just a friendly backrub, that’s all, just a couple of close friends who feel comfortable with each other.
– Wait, that’s my ass… –
Shut up, brain, her hand just slipped or something. Friends! That’s what we are, friends. Damn, that feels nice though…
– Damn, that feels nice. –
She was running her hands all over me. All over my back, my sides, my shoulders, my stomach, my ass, and around to, but not touching my tits. I could feel her breathing into my back. Caught in the moment, I wanted to turn around and kiss her. No, had to take a step back, her boyfriend was lying right next to us.
– Oh. Fuck. Her boyfriend. She. Has. A. Boy. Friend. Gotta stop. Can’t stop. Should stop. Don’t wanna stop. Need to stop. STOP! …… Can’t.
I couldn’t stop what was happening. I couldn’t stop my hips from gyrating backwards into her. I couldn’t stop my heavy breathing.
– Is he in on this too? That’s why she’s breathing into my back; he’s behind her doing something to her. They planned this. They so fucking planned this. –
I wouldn’t reciprocate. She was drunk. I didn’t want to feel like I was taking advantage of her. God damn it felt good.
– If you don’t touch her, she’ll think you’re not enjoying it. –
I reached my arm behind and started rubbing her leg. It was the only thing I could reach from that angle. Good choice though. Nice ass. Really nice ass.
– Fuck. She has a nice ass. –
I want to say that I had no idea where it was going, but I did. Did I want to go there? I honestly casino şirketleri have no idea. I still thought it was all part of a plan. They wanted to have a threesome. I knew that. She’s told me that. That’s what they were doing; they were using me as their third. I suppose that’s a compliment, it shows that they trust me. Could I do it though? Could I really, honestly, seriously, go through with it? No. Had to stop it before it got out of hand. I couldn’t though. I couldn’t stop it. I didn’t want to be a third. I’m tired of all this random bullshit.
– This is really happening, isn’t it. Am I really about to go through with this? God this feels so good. God. Damn. –
Then she got up. She mumbled something but I couldn’t understand what it was. I looked to my left towards him to see his reaction……… He was asleep. Or at least he appeared to be. If he was asleep… Then… What?
– @#$%^&*)_+@#$%^&*()_+@#$%^&*(_@#$%^&*()@#$%^&*( –
My thoughts were jumbled. I had no idea what was going on. What the hell was going on? What was I not stopping? Why was she not stopping? She’s a straight girl who’s a little bi-curious. She likes to experiment with sex and push her limits. …. ok, that’s bullshit. She’s bi. I knew she was bi long ago. That curious thing and wanting to push her limits, that’s what she says and maybe what she thinks, but she’s bi. I know she’s bi. Deep down she knows she’s bi. She’s just simply bi.
She came back into the bedroom and pulled me into the living room. We talked …… A lot. That’s what we do. We are obsessive compulsive conversationalists. We talk. More than anyone I know, I might add.
After we talked, I figured that would be the end of it. We would go to sleep and that would be it. We’d probably talk about it again, but that’s just what we do, we talk.
We were lying down – again – to go to sleep – again. She had her arm wrapped around me and I was holding her hand. We were comforting each other. We’d just had a long, very deep, talk about what everything that just happened could possibly mean. We needed to comfort each other.
Then it started again. She was touching me, I was touching her. Our hands were everywhere. We still hadn’t kissed though. I’m a pussy. I can’t kiss someone. I can’t do it. Fear of rejection, I suppose. I rolled over, facing her now, our faces so close together. I wanted to kiss her. I wanted to so badly. But her boyfriend. What we were doing was wrong already. I’ve already destroyed one relationship; I can’t do that to another couple. I can’t.
– Just do it. Kiss her. You want to. You’re already touching her; you already have your hands all over her. –
But it’s like kissing someone is more much more intimate than touching. I know that sounds weird, but really it’s like when I kiss someone it means more.
– Your hands are down her pants, just kiss her. –
I can’t. Her boyfriend. I don’t want to mess things up with them. That’s not fair. They’re good together. They’re happy. I can’t do that to them. It’s wrong.
– Kiss her. Look at her, she wants you to. She’s scared to. You’re supposed to be the more experienced one.
I felt like I was supposed to be the more experienced one. I’m the one that was supposed to take control and introduce her to same-sex… well, sex. (Same-sex sex… Sounds funny…) I was the one that was supposed to guide her, but I couldn’t. casino firmaları I had no idea what I was doing. Really, we were both experiencing this for the first time.
– Fuck it, kiss her. You’re both scared. Stop being a pussy. Do it. –
So I kissed her. There was no turning back now. A kiss changes everything. Always. It turns a maybe into a definitely. It turns what could happen into what will happen. No turning back. There was no turning back.
Touching turned into kissing, mouths replaced hands, kissing, licking, sucking, nibbling, moaning, gasping, touching, scratching, rubbing, breathing, giggling, breathing, spooning, holding, breathing.
Then talking. Always talking.
We always end up talking. Talk talk talk. I can’t ever turn my fucking brain off.
Then, from the other room:
– Oh shit, he’s awake. Did he just hear everything? He had to have. –
– Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. –
“Are you awake?”
– I’ve done it. I’ve fucked their relationship up. I did it. Again. To someone else. They didn’t deserve that. –
I’m an asshole.
I’m such an asshole.
We’re gonna end up talking about this. What am I going to say? What the hell am I supposed to say?
Went over her place again last night. Didn’t know what to say. Didn’t say much. He was there. Felt like an asshole. Could barely look at him without wanting to apologize. Didn’t want to bring it up. Don’t know when, but I passed out on the couch. Woke up with terrible stomach pains. Ended up being 45 minutes late for work. Worked hard all day. Didn’t stop thinking about it. I’m an asshole.
I have to go pick up the movie and return it soon. She said she wants to come with me. That means she wants to talk. Good. We need to talk. Why do we always need to talk? We talk a lot. We never stop talking.
What will we say? What is there to say?
I wasn’t weird. It should have been weird, right? Having sex with your friend is supposed to feel weird. It isn’t though. It wasn’t. Why wasn’t it?
She compared herself to Amy. She said she didn’t want to be like Amy. She isn’t like Amy though. Not at all. Everything that happened with Amy was based on sex. This wasn’t about sex though, was it? No. It wasn’t. It isn’t. It’s about something more. I don’t know what, but it’s about something more.
I feel terrible because I know it’s going to fuck things up with her boyfriend. That’s not fair to them. They don’t deserve that. They were happy. I fucked it up. Their relationship will never be the same. I’m an asshole. Damn it.
I guess those are my 3 important things to say to her:
Don’t wanna fuck them up.
We talked. We drove and talked and drove and talked and talked and talked. And then we went to her place and she drank, I didn’t. I had to be at work at 7. We talked and then we went to sleep. Held each other. Then she got up and slept in the other room. Left me alone in the living room. Confused me. Didn’t she say that she wanted to sleep with me? Like actually Zzzzzzz sleep with me? Why did she leave?
I have to go to work…more on last night after work…
You would think that güvenilir casino work would’ve been weird. It wasn’t. It was actually sorta… I don’t know… fun? It’s like now we have this secret. Almost an inside joke. Something that no one knows.
We talked yesterday. A lot. She said it wasn’t weird for her either. That makes me feel a little better; at least I’m not alone with that feeling. That’s good.
We sat outside of her apartment in my car for a while, just watching the rain hit the moonroof. She was drawing on the fogged up windows… It made my OCD hurt a little. She wanted me to kiss her. I couldn’t though. Boyfriend. She has a boyfriend. I can’t do that. She was just waiting for me to do something. Was it a rest? I don’t much like being tested. No, she wouldn’t test me, would she?
No. She wouldn’t.
Oh lordy lordy lordy what a freakin night.
– Fought with Amy
– Met her ex
– Slept in her bed
– Held her all night
– Held her all morning
“So are we going to analyze this or are we just going to see what happens?”
“See what happens”
I’m tired of over analyzing every fucking thing I do. Can’t I just be?
She’s going to break up with her boyfriend. Partially my fault. No totally, but partially. I’m an asshole. Fuck am I an asshole.
I feel terrible.
Just got off the phone with her. She called him to talk to him. He broke up with her before she could even say anything. What have I done?
And I may have just said something the wrong way. Or maybe she took it the wrong way. Or maybe she understood exactly what I meant. Maybe I’m just paranoid. Maybe I should stop thinking into everything.
She asked me what I wanted from all this. What?! How the fuck should I know?! Why are you asking me this? I don’t know. How am I supposed to know what yet? How?
So I explained to her my thought processes. How I think every time I hook up with someone. Those questions I ask myself. Those questions I figure everyone asks themselves when they hook up with someone.
I said something about what if it turned into more and that yeah I would like for it to be more. I think she understood that wrong because she said something like,
“I don’t think that I’m ready to… be… gay with you…”
Fuck. That’s not what I meant. I didn’t mean… Fuck. Shit… FUCK! I don’t wanna rush this. It’s too early for those thoughts to be complete. Those are just random ideas that have popped into my head. That’s not what I meant. Fuck, I don’t even know what I meant.
Fuck. Damn it! …. Fuck!
Talked to her briefly on the phone a minute ago. They’re officially broken up. I’m a terrible horrible no good very bad person.
Between the past few days with her and fighting with Amy, I feel like I’ve started 2006 by digging myself into another hole.
I need to stop thinking for a while.
She wants to read what I write. Can I really share what I’ve written about her in here?
Can I let her read it?
I can trust her, right?
I have no reason not to.
It’s so personal though. My writing is my one secret. The one thing I don’t share with anyone.
More to come once I get the time to type copy more from my journal. This story is far from over. I have much more in my journal and this is an experience that has not yet ended for us. Thanks for reading! Feedback is greatly appreciated!