There was a six month and three day period of time after Round One with the Gentle Giant that I had nobody to release my sexual frustration on. It was mainly was due to my lack of faith in the male half of the species. I had tried so hard to get the attention of The Gentle Giant earlier in the year only to be shunned and not spoken to when he found himself a gal. A call or even a text to let me know that he had moved on from little old me would have been nice. Instead I got the silent treatment. Sometimes not knowing is worse than knowing, because you hold on and hope for the best.
My apprehensive attitude towards attempting to find a new bloke was getting me down. I was starting to think I had lost my mojo. I thought I was never going to get laid again. My mind was playing out little scenarios in my mind of my vagina withering away to dust and blowing away in the wind if it didn't get used soon. The first three months were the toughest. My brain and my body wanted so much just to jump on any semi decent looking male I saw. But no matter how many times I tried to send out the "Hey, you're cute. Let's fuck" vibes I got shot down. I was starting to climb the walls with my horniness. People with shares in Duracell were loving me. I was about to hit the six month marker and I was over it. I was not interested in sex. I wasn't even flying solo anymore. Until one day, curiosity got the better of me, and I logged onto the dating website again.
I had a recent message from a boy who was new to Melbourne from Perth via Launceston. The Traveler and I sent a few emails back and forth, exchanged numbers and play a little bit of text ping pong for a few days. We worked out that we both had been through very long droughts and concluded that we should break the drought for each other. We agreed to meet up at a bar near his place, so if we didn't feel a spark there would be no awkwardness like "Gee, is that the time? please get out of my house." We'd just go our separate ways from the bar to our own homes. Nothing ventured nothing gained.
In the afternoon preceding the 'meet' The Traveler sent me a text saying that he was looking forward to meeting me in the evening and gave me his home address "for the record". I thought that was sweet. It eased my mind a little. Meeting up with men off the internet, no matter how well I think I know then can still be dodgy. I told a friend the address so if I did end up back at his place, and for some reason I had judged his character wrong, and ended up dismembered in garbage bags dumped across the city, the cops would know whose door to knock on and ask questions. Not long after that text we decided to scrap going to a bar to just meet at his place.
I raced home from work to shave my legs and deal with my severely over grown pussy and under arms. Boy oh boy was that an effort! I had a shower, moisturised and threw on a dress. I'm not a girly girl, so it takes me about 15 minutes to get ready. a little longer if my tangled mane of hair has been washed and needs brushing. I threw a handful of condoms into my bag and ran to the car. Safety first.
I fired up the not so trusty Tom Tom, punched in his address and away I went. I parked out the front of his house, spat my gum out and proceeded down the sloping driveway. I got to his front door straightened out my dress and knocked. The Traveler opened it and welcomed me inside. I sat on the sofa and he opened me a beer. We began chit chatting about nothing in particular. We downed a second beer. We somehow as if by gravity, merged closer together on the couch. Then it was on like Donkey Kong. We went form first base to third in around 30 seconds before heading up the stairs to his room.
I was very surprised to see a very tidy room and bed complete with fresh linen. Nice work Traveler. Nice work indeed. I won't go into too much detail of what took place in said freshly laundered sheets. You're a clever cookie, I'm sure you have a good enough imagination to fill in the blanks from things I've said in previous posts.
Six hours later at the not so godly hour of 1am, I got dressed. The Traveler walked me to the door. We shared a goodbye pash. He opened the door and I traipsed up the driveway to the street with a spring in my step.
After a six month and three day sabbatical I was back baby!
My apprehensive attitude towards attempting to find a new bloke was getting me down. I was starting to think I had lost my mojo. I thought I was never going to get laid again. My mind was playing out little scenarios in my mind of my vagina withering away to dust and blowing away in the wind if it didn't get used soon. The first three months were the toughest. My brain and my body wanted so much just to jump on any semi decent looking male I saw. But no matter how many times I tried to send out the "Hey, you're cute. Let's fuck" vibes I got shot down. I was starting to climb the walls with my horniness. People with shares in Duracell were loving me. I was about to hit the six month marker and I was over it. I was not interested in sex. I wasn't even flying solo anymore. Until one day, curiosity got the better of me, and I logged onto the dating website again.
I had a recent message from a boy who was new to Melbourne from Perth via Launceston. The Traveler and I sent a few emails back and forth, exchanged numbers and play a little bit of text ping pong for a few days. We worked out that we both had been through very long droughts and concluded that we should break the drought for each other. We agreed to meet up at a bar near his place, so if we didn't feel a spark there would be no awkwardness like "Gee, is that the time? please get out of my house." We'd just go our separate ways from the bar to our own homes. Nothing ventured nothing gained.
In the afternoon preceding the 'meet' The Traveler sent me a text saying that he was looking forward to meeting me in the evening and gave me his home address "for the record". I thought that was sweet. It eased my mind a little. Meeting up with men off the internet, no matter how well I think I know then can still be dodgy. I told a friend the address so if I did end up back at his place, and for some reason I had judged his character wrong, and ended up dismembered in garbage bags dumped across the city, the cops would know whose door to knock on and ask questions. Not long after that text we decided to scrap going to a bar to just meet at his place.
I raced home from work to shave my legs and deal with my severely over grown pussy and under arms. Boy oh boy was that an effort! I had a shower, moisturised and threw on a dress. I'm not a girly girl, so it takes me about 15 minutes to get ready. a little longer if my tangled mane of hair has been washed and needs brushing. I threw a handful of condoms into my bag and ran to the car. Safety first.
I fired up the not so trusty Tom Tom, punched in his address and away I went. I parked out the front of his house, spat my gum out and proceeded down the sloping driveway. I got to his front door straightened out my dress and knocked. The Traveler opened it and welcomed me inside. I sat on the sofa and he opened me a beer. We began chit chatting about nothing in particular. We downed a second beer. We somehow as if by gravity, merged closer together on the couch. Then it was on like Donkey Kong. We went form first base to third in around 30 seconds before heading up the stairs to his room.
I was very surprised to see a very tidy room and bed complete with fresh linen. Nice work Traveler. Nice work indeed. I won't go into too much detail of what took place in said freshly laundered sheets. You're a clever cookie, I'm sure you have a good enough imagination to fill in the blanks from things I've said in previous posts.
Six hours later at the not so godly hour of 1am, I got dressed. The Traveler walked me to the door. We shared a goodbye pash. He opened the door and I traipsed up the driveway to the street with a spring in my step.
After a six month and three day sabbatical I was back baby!
