Virgin Diaries

It's been eons since I've logged into this blog. I feel like a missing part of me has been out of sight and maybe that's why I feel a little out of sorts now that I'm hear again. This blog is the most honest I've been about my sex, whether it's not having it with Paul or too much of it with Vincent.

Speaking of which, things are dandy on the Vincent front. He and I have been doing pretty well. We're both a little crazy but we're pretty retarded for each other so it's never been better. I had to knock on wood with that last statement seeing as to how chaotic it can turn at a blink. The sex is good. Plentiful. Energetic. The intimacy of sex can never be replicated in anything else any two people do together. I really do get this sense of one-ness with him every time and sometimes it feels so good I want to cry. (Goodness, women and their feelings.)

But we're so up and down sometimes that I feel I'm failing. Every once in a while I get the feeling that it's not the best idea to let him have a history of 8 women and me be at a steady one. The catch-22 is that I don't want to look because a big part of me is happy to be with him while the other part of me doesn't want to settle for such little experience. I wouldn't cheat but if I knew I could do a good job of sowing my wild oats I'd take Vincent's offer of a break and get my notches.

It's been about 6 months and we used to have sex every day that we saw each other. It's too soon for us to be an old couple but our fire is slowly dying. I've been putting off seeing Dr. Vagina. I have a feeling all things down there aren't right and so my libido is being strangled a little, maybe.

I really need to meet someone. 

Vincent and I have both been tired lately, more him (by his demanding job) than me, but both tired none the less. There isn't even enough time in the day for me to maintain. I have to get a wax, do my eyebrows, shave more often and workout regularly. I don't think the lack of upkeep in my beautification process is the reason why it happened but it was a little surprising.

It isn't out of the ordinary not to have sex but we didn't even attempt it last night. He jokingly asked for a blowjob and a martini but I shrug it off. I have a feeling I should have just done it. Only, I've just had about enough of giving him head and not getting anything equally as pleasant from him. I'm not the biggest fan of receiving, and for whatever reason I get impatient with manual play. Bleh. I can't win.

I guess I couldn't expect the honeymoon to last too much longer.

I always had a problem with coming. As much as I enjoyed being penetrated I would have to fake it just to end the sex. (A girl can only last so long without it starting to hurt. Vincent can literally last all night.)

A friend of mine came over for a visit, incidentally to listen to a fuck session. She was amazed at his stamina and skills. . . she was convinced it was very good sex. Unfortunately for her she doesn't know anything about good sex because she hasn't been getting it from her boyfriend in a while. That wasn't a particularly spectacular evening either, but I'd guess it was about our average. Anyway. I digress.

Back to the orgasm issue: the great thing about experimenting positions is that you get the opportunity to find the one that works for you. There was a short phase where I could only come on top, leaning in. I've learned that I could actually manipulate my orgasm while I'm in missionary. It was an accident, really. I realized that by exercising my Kegel while he was inside me, thrusting deeply, that I could get off just as well as being on top (quicker, actually).

I was really worried that I wouldn't ever be able to come on his dick but I have, and consistently, and on numerous occasion. I feel like I dodged a bullet somehow, PHEW!

I was talking with my friend Riley about how I can discern one orgasm being so memorable over another. And she was so surprised. She's been coming on her fingers for so long she can't seem to appreciate them anymore. Having orgasms are so new to me that I can't help but be grateful for each one. Silly, I know, but it's how I work. I'm sure once I'm used to getting off regularly for a long period of time I won't be able to recall one orgasm being better than another; until then I'm more than happy to catalog them.

I'm just ever so thankful that Vincent's cock is of a good size. I'm not sure how well all of this would work if he was smaller. Plus, I really love the challenge of filling my mouth with his beautifully erect dick.

I am quite convinced I'm spoiled. :-) 

Paul and I broke up after his first, and only, visit. He left me a virgin. We weren't able to have sex because he couldn't get over his stage fright. My hymen was in tact for 1 week after the breakup. I became a total homewrecking slut and had sex with Vincent. There was just something about him that I trusted and didn't mind being my first. He was very sweet and attentive. I admired the restraint he placed on himself by being gentle and patient. I am sorry to report that I am the reason the two are no longer talking. I do feel terrible but their relationship was always a tumultuous one. I served as the last straw.

Vincent and I are now fucking on a regular basis, sans commitment. It's a good deal I hope to stick with for a bit... for experience and such. We'll see how this goes...

Paul has been here for a few days already and it's been fun. We get naked and chat and cuddle and lick and suck on each other for hours. I feel a little bad because I know he wants to explore my city more but I'm keeping him in a room all day. How bad can it really be, you know? I mean I'm hot and willing to fuck his brains out so I don't see the big deal. Don't worry I'll let him out soon enough.

We do get out to eat and then get right back to it. I haven't made out with anyone in a while, and he's done a wonderful job of reminding me. Unfortunately he had some jitters so I'm still a virgin, but we're hoping to change that tomorrow. I wanted to fuck all day but his cock wouldn't cooperate. He went down on me a few times. It was nice, except that I couldn't get off. I wanted dick and sucking my clit did nothing. He gave up on his mouth and decided to finger fuck me instead, which worked... finally.

There was a surprising development. I actually like sucking dick. His was the first I ever had in my mouth and I'm not lying when I say that I have skills. It was my first suck fest and I passed with flying colors. Paul gave me the stamp of excellence. I can't say it wasn't a bit of a bumpy path at first. I licked him to half mast to no avail. It was when I was on my back, my head hanging off the side of the bed, when he stood over me and dipped his cock in my mouth until I got him nice and hard. I sucked and licked and rubbed my lips against him getting him sloppy wet before he came in my mouth. I took his entire length into my mouth and I gagged a couple of times until he warned me he was coming. It was a lot of cum. It was the first time so I wasn't sure what to expect but I took it like a champ. It didn't taste bad at all. I swallowed.

...looks like I'm a slut in training.

It took me nearly a year to send Paul a half naked photo of myself. A profile of my body featuring my small breasts and big nipples. My ass and legs were quite presentable. It also didn't hurt that he could think of nothing but sucking my tits since I sent it. I guess it's proof of how serious about him I am becoming. Plus, he'll be here before the year ends and the natural insinuation is that we'll have sex. This means being naked. In front of each other. I guess the photo was more for me than him. Before he got a chance to put his hands on me I wanted an idea of what he'd feel about my body.

I never really had body issues. I've always been slim and no matter how much I told men that I felt I needed to workout more they always told me that I should take it off the "priority list." I did always have a problem area: my stomach. I don't have a pouch but I've always had issues of how it should look. I always wanted it more toned, more flat, more firm... The moment I got the news that Paul would be arriving in the not too distant future all I could think was how much work I had to do to ge the body I want, or rather the body I want him to fuck.

Overall I always wanted to look long and lean. I've been working out more intensely and I'm seeing results I want but my eating habits are hindering me a bit. (I'm an emotional eater and it doesn't help that my self-control is lacking.) I do know one thing: If I really want something, and take the time to put effort into it, then I'll be able to reach my goal. I've done it before. Now it's getting from A to Z while experiencing the joy of hard work with everything in between that's going to be soul sucking.

It'll be worth it right?

So Paul is in fact visiting me soon. It's official. I don't remember if I had mentioned this, and I really don't care to gloss over my old posts, but if it didn't happen before the end of the year I was breaking it off. It was a simple plan. I had to give myself a deadline for a lot of things and one of those things was this long-distance relationship.

I couldn't tell you how happy I was to hear the news. I was so high I thought I would explode from happiness. I've calmed down a bit since hearing but I'm still very anxious. There's only so many things you can do in a limited time, including sex.

Today something dawned on me: "What then?"

After we've met and had sex and realized we do want to keep at it, what then? I mean I'm not moving -- he said he would, but how long does that whole thing take? I'm beginning to lose patience. I'm getting so annoyed at all the anticipating that I think I'd rather do without all this drama. Once we see each other this time how many times are we going to have to fly back and forth to be together before he decides when he'd like to take the plunge and be here with me permanently? I don't want to be with someone I can only see a few times a year. I want someone here, where I have the option of seeing him every day; so I can kiss him just because he's there, ugh.

I can hardly stand the waiting and diplomacy of all this. I want us to meet before the end of the year, adore each other, get laid, and call it quits.

I really want to move on from this...

Vincent and I have resolved the earlier issue of "hair-sniffage" and we are now back on the track of friendship. I saw a movie with him and had a really good time. I actually enjoy being around him. Maybe it has something to with the fact that he makes me feel more than I think I am. It may seem selfish but it's a symbiotic relationship. I feel comfortable enough around him to make jokes and light of his attraction to me.

I am not into Vincent.

Speaking of the devil, Paul and I are doing well. I wish I didn't do so much thinking so that this issue of a long distance relationship doesn't bother me as much. I know I'm not going to move for him and I have a feeling he won't really move for me. I'm not changing my mind about this. I'm not going to uproot myself. The end. Fin. No more to be said about it.

Since I'm not willing to make the leap for him one of two things are going to happen:

1. He'll move here... for me.

or

2. We realize we don't love each other enough and break up.

I'm banking on the latter.

It's no one's fault really... I'm hoping to break the news to him once we've fucked (I really need my cherry popped before I end things).

There is a difference between the two. One is casual and general while the other is more thoughtful and specific. A hug, like it's name, is simple and quick. Like a handshake, it's not supposed to be too personal. It's physical affection reserved for people considered friends or distant relatives or whathaveyou, but should definitely not be performed with the opposite sex who makes their feelings for you conspicuous.

An embrace is personal. It's tighter, closer; longer. A body to body connection. Usually for close friends, immediate family, or lovers, it's the most intimate you get without taking your clothes off. Embracing, like hugging, is not meant for the opposite sex attracted to you. Doing so makes things... how do I say this?

...Messy.

Last night I was caught in one (an embrace). It was unexpected and definitely with the wrong person. It was a moment in which I was caught off guard and so couldn't process what was happening. I stood there being held by this man. He pulled me in close as he pushed up against me. He held me in place by putting one hand firmly on my back while the other caressed my head. I stood there with an expression of confusion on my face: eyebrows furrowed, mouth slightly frowning. The worst of it? Aside from the unwanted proximity? He...

smelled...

my...

hair.

I felt his nose against my head and actually heard him inhale me. He breathed me in. Is it strange to think he stole some of my essence?

Because that's exactly what Vincent did.

Vincent is too accessible. I want to be with Paul but this spending time with Vincent is somewhat fucking me up royally. I mean I'm not in love with Vincent but I like spending time with him. We laugh the whole time and flirt and I enjoy the attention. It's as if I am totally immersed in the idea of Paul but the physical aspect of him missing is somehow being mended by Vincent's proximity. I'm using Vincent for selfish reasons but at the same time I might be getting a little too comfortable with him. I don't want to think I'm allowing myself to feel more than I should but Paul is so far...