This was the weekend of concerts, as I had plans to see another show on Friday night with the Diplomat. The venue was near his work south of town, so in the interest of not backtracking a zillion times to meet up in town, I instead drove to his office and we went together to the show.
Unfortunately, I'd been having stomach pains all day. I don't know what's causing them, but they're becoming more frequent. I wouldn't go so far as to say that they're debilitating, but they're definitely distracting and painful. I didn't want to miss the concert, though, so I sucked it up and went anyway. Plus I was really looking forward to seeing the Diplomat.
We found seats and sat through the first two acts, with the Diplomat continually checking in to see how I was doing. I could tell he was worried about me, but I was really enjoying the show. I stayed seated while everyone else stood for the big act; I was worried about making my stomach worse and ruining the entire night. By the very end I was feeling about 90% better, though, so I jumped around for the encore.
The Diplomat offered to let me drive his car on the way home; it's a manual, and though I learned how to drive one years ago, I'm worried that I'm forgetting. I figured the crush of post-concert traffic was probably not the place to refresh my memory, though. We picked up my car, and we both drove over to his house. Parking was TERRIBLE. He found a spot, then got in my car with me to help me find another. He lives in a part of town that is really old, so it's all parallel parking on the street. I'm not the greatest parallel parker to begin with, and when the only spot I can find is less than a foot longer than my car, I'm screwed. Thankfully, I was able to ask the Diplomat to do it for me. He squeezed in, and made it look so easy!
He had dinner all but ready at home, and whipped together a guacamole to finish it. It was so good. I would seriously not complain about eating guacamole every day. He'd also made more butterscotch mousse for dessert.
We were completely exhausted by the time we were done, and went up to bed. We had nice, sweet, slow sex, and fell asleep tangled up in each other.
I had to work the next morning, so the Diplomat set his alarm for us to wake up. He didn't have to do that- he had nothing to wake up for- but he wanted to get breakfast together in the morning before I left. When the alarm went off, I made some pitiful excuse about not wanting to wake up yet. He told me to go back to sleep, so I did.
An hour later, he woke me back up. “I got breakfast,” he told me. And he did. He'd gone out to a local pastry shop to pick up fresh croissants, and he made cappuccinos. I've had guys do sweet things for me, but letting me sleep in on a Saturday morning and bring me breakfast on a day when he didn't even have to be up definitely takes the cake.
We went back to his room after breakfast, and let's just say I was late to work that morning. There were no toys, no handcuffs, no kink- just good sex. I can't think of a better way to start the weekend than cuddling with him in bed, his hands running through my hair and feeling his warmth. And if he keeps up the breakfast in bed, I foresee it happening a lot.
Showing posts with label morning sex. Show all posts
Showing posts with label morning sex. Show all posts
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Sunday- Another Sunday with the Diplomat
Every person has his or her quirks. Things they really like, things they really don't. One of the things I really don't like is taking my car in for an oil change. There is no rational reason for it, I just can't stand taking the time to bring it in, waiting for it to be done, having them try to upsell me, all that jazz. When the Diplomat suggested working my very overdue oil change into our date Sunday, I jumped at the opportunity. I dropped off my car, then we headed up to Ikea to pick up some things for his new house.
It was a new experience to go shopping with someone who has almost total impulse control. Not being an impulse buyer is one thing, but he took it to a new level. Not only did he not buy anything because it looked cool, he didn't buy anything that wasn't on his list, even if it had a useful purpose. I wish I had that much willpower- it'd save me some money. We left right as I got the call my car was ready to be picked up. We went and got it, then headed back to his house for dinner.
For dinner, the Diplomat had made chili. Now, I love chili. It's delicious and filling. But the fact that he'd made chili shows a fundamental difference between guys and girls- guys don't think about how the food they eat on the date is going to affect them after. Beer and wings? Big greasy cheeseburger? No problem. For me (and I think most girls) on the other hand, the food I eat is directly affected by what's going to be happening later in the night. If we're just going out for dinner, I can handle a burger- the date's usually over by the time my stomach decides it hates me. With chili, though, and especially chili on what was likely to turn into an overnight date, there was no escaping it. I was going to have a stomachache later.
After we finished and were still sitting on the couch, we started making out. What is it about sitting on the couch on a date that turns almost immediately into making out? The condoms were upstairs, though, and neither of us felt like going to get them, so I knelt in front of the couch instead, if you catch my drift.
The Diplomat is quickly turning into The One Who Cooks (tm). For dessert, he'd made a butterscotch mousse. I thought the chocolate mousse was good, but this was out of this world. As I ate, he wrapped me up and started rubbing my shoulders. I love a good massage. Then that turned into him whispering in my ear.
“I want you to go upstairs, take off all your clothes, and kneel on the floor. You're going to close your eyes, put your hands behind your head, and wait for me. Do you understand?”
I absolutely did. It was even hotter this time than the last.
The entire point of going out on Sunday was to watch the first episode of the show Treme. As a thunderstorm started outside, we got glasses of red wine and cuddled back together in the bed. We laid there together while we watched. When it came to an end, with a glass of wine in me and the rain falling outside, I was ready to fall asleep.
The Diplomat went downstairs to lock the doors and turn out the lights, when the next thing I do, he was rushing up the stairs and throwing on clothes. “I'm having my first homeowner crisis,” he told me. “My basement is flooding.”
I felt terrible, but there was nothing I could do. He found the clogged drain in the backyard that was backing up into the basement, which stopped it from getting worse. Still, there was at least an inch of water in the majority of the basement. I helped him carry a few things upstairs that hadn't yet gotten wet, while he tried to figure out what to do next. Finally he came to the decision there was nothing that could be done until the morning, and we went up to bed.
The good news is after a quick romp in the morning, he was able to get what he needed at Home Depot. Getting to see first-hand the joys of homeownership definitely hasn't left me in a hurry to get there myself. Give me a 24-hour maintenance man any day.
It was a new experience to go shopping with someone who has almost total impulse control. Not being an impulse buyer is one thing, but he took it to a new level. Not only did he not buy anything because it looked cool, he didn't buy anything that wasn't on his list, even if it had a useful purpose. I wish I had that much willpower- it'd save me some money. We left right as I got the call my car was ready to be picked up. We went and got it, then headed back to his house for dinner.
For dinner, the Diplomat had made chili. Now, I love chili. It's delicious and filling. But the fact that he'd made chili shows a fundamental difference between guys and girls- guys don't think about how the food they eat on the date is going to affect them after. Beer and wings? Big greasy cheeseburger? No problem. For me (and I think most girls) on the other hand, the food I eat is directly affected by what's going to be happening later in the night. If we're just going out for dinner, I can handle a burger- the date's usually over by the time my stomach decides it hates me. With chili, though, and especially chili on what was likely to turn into an overnight date, there was no escaping it. I was going to have a stomachache later.
After we finished and were still sitting on the couch, we started making out. What is it about sitting on the couch on a date that turns almost immediately into making out? The condoms were upstairs, though, and neither of us felt like going to get them, so I knelt in front of the couch instead, if you catch my drift.
The Diplomat is quickly turning into The One Who Cooks (tm). For dessert, he'd made a butterscotch mousse. I thought the chocolate mousse was good, but this was out of this world. As I ate, he wrapped me up and started rubbing my shoulders. I love a good massage. Then that turned into him whispering in my ear.
“I want you to go upstairs, take off all your clothes, and kneel on the floor. You're going to close your eyes, put your hands behind your head, and wait for me. Do you understand?”
I absolutely did. It was even hotter this time than the last.
The entire point of going out on Sunday was to watch the first episode of the show Treme. As a thunderstorm started outside, we got glasses of red wine and cuddled back together in the bed. We laid there together while we watched. When it came to an end, with a glass of wine in me and the rain falling outside, I was ready to fall asleep.
The Diplomat went downstairs to lock the doors and turn out the lights, when the next thing I do, he was rushing up the stairs and throwing on clothes. “I'm having my first homeowner crisis,” he told me. “My basement is flooding.”
I felt terrible, but there was nothing I could do. He found the clogged drain in the backyard that was backing up into the basement, which stopped it from getting worse. Still, there was at least an inch of water in the majority of the basement. I helped him carry a few things upstairs that hadn't yet gotten wet, while he tried to figure out what to do next. Finally he came to the decision there was nothing that could be done until the morning, and we went up to bed.
The good news is after a quick romp in the morning, he was able to get what he needed at Home Depot. Getting to see first-hand the joys of homeownership definitely hasn't left me in a hurry to get there myself. Give me a 24-hour maintenance man any day.
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Sunday- I'm on a Boat
(Yes, I realize how entirely un-original the title of this post is. I'd apologize, but I don't care! I still think it's funny.)
Apparently one of the Diplomat's favorite activities is to go sailing. He doesn't have his own boat; instead, he belongs to an organization that allows their members to take out the group's boats almost whenever they want. We'd planned to go on Easter, but the weather had been less than cooperative.
It was just the two of us on the boat. Because of that he made me do a lot of the steering- I was beyond nervous! In fact, I freaked out every time the boat leaned far over to one side. He kept assuring me that it was actually impossible for this type of boat to capsize, but that didn't help much. Finally I just told myself that I would fall out before the boat fell over, and for some twisted reason, that calmed me down a bit.
We were on the water for almost two hours when we decided to head in and go back to his house for dinner. He cooked again; his shrimp was good, but his apple, cheese, and walnut salad was superb. He offered desert, but we decided to have a few after-dinner activities first.
We headed upstairs to his bedroom, and while we were standing in the middle of the room kissing he whispered in my ear, “go stand next to the wall with your eyes closed.” I giggled and eagerly complied. He stood behind me and asked, “are you going to do everything I say?” There was no question about that. I stood next to the wall and heard him opening a drawer. The next thing I knew, a blindfold was being slipped across my eyes. Then he turned me around and started kissing me more.
I know I've mentioned it before, but I love giving up control in the bedroom. There is no more extreme way of doing that than allowing yourself to be blindfolded and cuffed, which was what happened next.
The biggest surprise came after we made it back onto the bed. He had a restraint system set up, what I guess to be similar to this one (after all, I was blindfolded. Link really NSFW, by the way.) He had my arms and my legs spread with the cuffs while he continued to tease me. To put it bluntly, it was hot. I was begging for release, and I don't mean from the restraints. Finally I got it.
After we'd laid in bed for a while, the Diplomat reminded me that he had desert. I had mentioned to him once in passing that my favorite desert of all time is fresh berries with homemade whipped cream. He'd actually remembered what I'd said and decided to make it for me!
It was delicious. By the time we were done, though, we were both tired and ready for bed. He'd had enough downtime, though, that he was ready to go again.
This time, I asked him to take it slow. We untangled at the end and fell asleep.
The next morning the Diplomat had to go to work. That didn't stop us from having one last romp in the bed before getting up. It's so hard to get out of bed in the morning when you're with someone you like. Thankfully he doesn't have to be at work at a certain time, or he would have been late.
Sailing, dinner, desert; bondage, repeat performances, and morning sex? It doesn't get much better.
Apparently one of the Diplomat's favorite activities is to go sailing. He doesn't have his own boat; instead, he belongs to an organization that allows their members to take out the group's boats almost whenever they want. We'd planned to go on Easter, but the weather had been less than cooperative.
It was just the two of us on the boat. Because of that he made me do a lot of the steering- I was beyond nervous! In fact, I freaked out every time the boat leaned far over to one side. He kept assuring me that it was actually impossible for this type of boat to capsize, but that didn't help much. Finally I just told myself that I would fall out before the boat fell over, and for some twisted reason, that calmed me down a bit.
We were on the water for almost two hours when we decided to head in and go back to his house for dinner. He cooked again; his shrimp was good, but his apple, cheese, and walnut salad was superb. He offered desert, but we decided to have a few after-dinner activities first.
We headed upstairs to his bedroom, and while we were standing in the middle of the room kissing he whispered in my ear, “go stand next to the wall with your eyes closed.” I giggled and eagerly complied. He stood behind me and asked, “are you going to do everything I say?” There was no question about that. I stood next to the wall and heard him opening a drawer. The next thing I knew, a blindfold was being slipped across my eyes. Then he turned me around and started kissing me more.
I know I've mentioned it before, but I love giving up control in the bedroom. There is no more extreme way of doing that than allowing yourself to be blindfolded and cuffed, which was what happened next.
The biggest surprise came after we made it back onto the bed. He had a restraint system set up, what I guess to be similar to this one (after all, I was blindfolded. Link really NSFW, by the way.) He had my arms and my legs spread with the cuffs while he continued to tease me. To put it bluntly, it was hot. I was begging for release, and I don't mean from the restraints. Finally I got it.
After we'd laid in bed for a while, the Diplomat reminded me that he had desert. I had mentioned to him once in passing that my favorite desert of all time is fresh berries with homemade whipped cream. He'd actually remembered what I'd said and decided to make it for me!
It was delicious. By the time we were done, though, we were both tired and ready for bed. He'd had enough downtime, though, that he was ready to go again.
This time, I asked him to take it slow. We untangled at the end and fell asleep.
The next morning the Diplomat had to go to work. That didn't stop us from having one last romp in the bed before getting up. It's so hard to get out of bed in the morning when you're with someone you like. Thankfully he doesn't have to be at work at a certain time, or he would have been late.
Sailing, dinner, desert; bondage, repeat performances, and morning sex? It doesn't get much better.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Friday pt 2- Mistaken Identity
Friday night was also the Diplomat's birthday celebration. He was having a joint party with two friends at a bar, and we met up to drive together. Because of the whole night and day spent with the Blues Man, though, I was hardy even running on fumes. I called ahead to the Diplomat and warned him that if he wanted me to be at all functional that night, I was going to need some coffee. He met me at the door with it- major points for him (and a major caffeine boost for me).
I was a little nervous about hanging out with the Diplomat's friends, as I had no idea what to expect. They were all very nice, though! I love meeting new people- I tend to get along with almost anyone, especially when there is beer involved. There were a disturbing number of men in the bar, though- there were probably not even a half dozen women there for the party, including a birthday girl!
I found out that one group of friends there with another of the joint birthday-ers were grad students at the same university as me, though they are in computer science. One of them in particular was super cute, and I flirted with him for a while. It was really funny when he pointed out his faculty advisor to me, who was also there. The advisor told me I should race the other guy to finish our programs, as maybe he'd finally be rid of him.
The Diplomat and I had a lot of fun, and he really came to my rescue when one of his friends cornered me and was asking all sorts of weirdly personal questions, especially for someone you'd literally met less than an hour before. I leaned over to the Diplomat, whispered “save me,” and he made up an excuse to have me come up to the bar with him. Phew, disaster avoided.
As the Diplomat and his friends decided to leave the joint party head to another bar, I tried to find the cute CS guy I'd been flirting with earlier, but I only saw his friend. I didn't want to lose my chance, though, so I asked if he would give my number to his “cute friend that was wearing a black shirt.” He said no problem, and I wrote it down on a piece of paper. Then I headed outside to catch up with the Diplomat.
Outside, I saw the CS guy standing with another group of people. Then his friend who had my number came outside, with the slip of paper in his hand. He leaned over to talk to....the faculty advisor! I heard him as “who's this?” and the friend pointed me out. I couldn't very well go over and say “oh, that wasn't meant for you,” so I decided to roll with it. I can say, though, I've never managed to give my number to the wrong guy before! At least I saw that it went to the wrong guy- it would have been horrible to go out with the advisor thinking it was the CS guy until I got there and saw him. I haven't heard from him yet though, so I doubt anything is going to come from it.
One of the Diplomat's friends gave us a ride back to his place, and I collapsed into his bed. I'd been up for 23 hours at that point- sex could wait.
I was a little nervous about hanging out with the Diplomat's friends, as I had no idea what to expect. They were all very nice, though! I love meeting new people- I tend to get along with almost anyone, especially when there is beer involved. There were a disturbing number of men in the bar, though- there were probably not even a half dozen women there for the party, including a birthday girl!
I found out that one group of friends there with another of the joint birthday-ers were grad students at the same university as me, though they are in computer science. One of them in particular was super cute, and I flirted with him for a while. It was really funny when he pointed out his faculty advisor to me, who was also there. The advisor told me I should race the other guy to finish our programs, as maybe he'd finally be rid of him.
The Diplomat and I had a lot of fun, and he really came to my rescue when one of his friends cornered me and was asking all sorts of weirdly personal questions, especially for someone you'd literally met less than an hour before. I leaned over to the Diplomat, whispered “save me,” and he made up an excuse to have me come up to the bar with him. Phew, disaster avoided.
As the Diplomat and his friends decided to leave the joint party head to another bar, I tried to find the cute CS guy I'd been flirting with earlier, but I only saw his friend. I didn't want to lose my chance, though, so I asked if he would give my number to his “cute friend that was wearing a black shirt.” He said no problem, and I wrote it down on a piece of paper. Then I headed outside to catch up with the Diplomat.
Outside, I saw the CS guy standing with another group of people. Then his friend who had my number came outside, with the slip of paper in his hand. He leaned over to talk to....the faculty advisor! I heard him as “who's this?” and the friend pointed me out. I couldn't very well go over and say “oh, that wasn't meant for you,” so I decided to roll with it. I can say, though, I've never managed to give my number to the wrong guy before! At least I saw that it went to the wrong guy- it would have been horrible to go out with the advisor thinking it was the CS guy until I got there and saw him. I haven't heard from him yet though, so I doubt anything is going to come from it.
One of the Diplomat's friends gave us a ride back to his place, and I collapsed into his bed. I'd been up for 23 hours at that point- sex could wait.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Tuesday- Morning Sex is My Heroin
Once you've had a taste, you keep coming back for me.
Tuesday evening, the Dreamer wanted to come over after I got out of class. I was late getting out, though, and he called to say he was in my neighborhood before I'd even left the campus. Instead of making him wait outside, I called my roommate to see if she'd mind him hanging around until I got home. She said it was no problem at all, so when I got there, the Dreamer was sitting in the living room watching my roommate paint the room next to it.
After I got there, we made a quick dinner and then went to bed. We didn't even have sex! The next morning, the Dreamer's alarm went off at 5am, his usual time. When I woke up a second time and saw the clock said 7am, I panicked a little and hurriedly woke him up. “I'm going in late,” he said. “I'm too tired.” So we went back to sleep.
When his alarm went off again, it was almost 9. He started to get out of bed to get moving, but I pulled him back down. I wasn't going to let him go again without getting a piece for myself.
Let's have a word on morning sex. In short, it's the best thing ever. Waking up next to someone you like (not someone you avoid waking up while you quickly dress and sneak out), avoiding the morning breath while kissing, and sharing the warmth under the covers- it's fantastic. It's hard enough to get up in the mornings when the bed is warm and the room is cold, but it's even harder when there's another person in that bed with you.
We finally got out of bed at 9:30, and he went off to work.
Tuesday evening, the Dreamer wanted to come over after I got out of class. I was late getting out, though, and he called to say he was in my neighborhood before I'd even left the campus. Instead of making him wait outside, I called my roommate to see if she'd mind him hanging around until I got home. She said it was no problem at all, so when I got there, the Dreamer was sitting in the living room watching my roommate paint the room next to it.
After I got there, we made a quick dinner and then went to bed. We didn't even have sex! The next morning, the Dreamer's alarm went off at 5am, his usual time. When I woke up a second time and saw the clock said 7am, I panicked a little and hurriedly woke him up. “I'm going in late,” he said. “I'm too tired.” So we went back to sleep.
When his alarm went off again, it was almost 9. He started to get out of bed to get moving, but I pulled him back down. I wasn't going to let him go again without getting a piece for myself.
Let's have a word on morning sex. In short, it's the best thing ever. Waking up next to someone you like (not someone you avoid waking up while you quickly dress and sneak out), avoiding the morning breath while kissing, and sharing the warmth under the covers- it's fantastic. It's hard enough to get up in the mornings when the bed is warm and the room is cold, but it's even harder when there's another person in that bed with you.
We finally got out of bed at 9:30, and he went off to work.
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