When I got back home, I immediately called the guy I was dating, to recount my horrid little tale. He seemed appropriately shocked and amused, so I invited him over.
I was still sore from rolling around in an icy alley, so it was nice to get a back rub and have some male attention after visiting the bear den. I had met Scottie a few months earlier, on a free dating site. He was quiet and down to Earth, but mostly… he was really, really good in bed. Which, to be honest, was all I was looking for at the moment.
Scottie seemed a little more quiet than usual that evening, he had brought six-pack of beer with him, and proceeded to down a few right away.
“Thirsty?” I asked.
“Yeah,” He responded, “rough day at work.”
The alcohol seemed to have an exhilarating effect on him, because he got pretty physical. Now, I am all about getting in a wrestling match from time to time, but that night…my knee was hurting – so I asked him to slow down.
He did, but then he did something really strange.
He slipped. Into my butt.
I’m not sure how you can mistake something like that, but perhaps, if you’ve been drinking and have had a hard day, you’re not exactly maneuvering with precision.
“Whoa,” I said, “what are you trying to do there?”
“Um, what does it feel like?”
“Well, I know what it feels like – but don’t you think you should ask first?”
“Ah…okay. Can we?”
It had been a really long time since I had gone “there” - even in my marriage, it was deemed to be a special occasion – lots of lube, soft music, and a sufficient amount of begging.
Well, I was pretty tired, so I decided to skip the soft music and the begging, rolled over and grabbed the lube and fresh condoms.
“Oh, so …. Condoms?” He said.
“Yes. Is there a problem?”
“Oh no, I was just…”
“No condoms, no butt love, babe.”
Scottie prepares himself, and then I get on top to try it.
It took maybe 30 seconds for me to start hating it. Don’t get me wrong, when I feel like it, I will – but that night, I just didn’t. So I rolled over.
He tried again, but by the end of all that – and because of my exhaustion, I turn him down.
I turned him down several times that night, in fact, waking up to him penetrating me – and so I push him off. It was 3:00 am.
“You need to leave. Now.”
He texted me later that week wondering what was wrong.
“You crossed a line, Scottie, and you know it. Don’t call me again.”
By now, you may be wondering why I’m dumping all of this failed butt sex into your brains. Well, there’s a reason, of course.
The next day I logged into Second Life, and made my way to my favorite sim – one filled with stars and planets. One of the gents that I hadn’t talked to in a long while logged in while I was there and starts asking me about my weekend.
Hmm….here we go, I think to myself. I had pretty much had it with that sim, always seem to meet people, but never stay friends. Something would happen, either they would get angry and unfriend, or I would because they turned into an asshole, or they would tell me to start talking to a different avatar, etc. etc.
After six months of that, I started feeling like one of Pavlov’s dogs – except only punished for talking with boys – never rewarded.
His questions led all the way to my date last night.
“So did you do anal?” (Uh, huh, I thought – fuckin’ spearfisher.)
“Well, we tried,” I typed, “but I was tired and the condom was dry, LOL.”
Then he made some comment about being a whore, warning me about AIDS and such. I thought it was kind of funny:
“Wait, you’re going to sit here and lecture me about anal sex WITH CONDOMS, when two months ago you wanted to roleplay spitting in my mouth and having sex with my feet? That’s rich. Go sell crazy someplace else.”
And I logged off.
It got me to thinking, though. Maybe he didn’t KNOW about our past conversations.
Just then, my Skype bubble happened to pop up. Someone had sent me an IM.
It was Romeo, from class.
More from love