Please note: The reference to a "first kiss" is due to the fact that I felt that I had been given the chance at a second first ever kiss after my braces were removed. The real first kiss at 17 years old was technically brilliant, but a charity kiss nonetheless. I was more geek, less chic back then.
So much has happened, so much to say, but there is only one thing I can talk about today. I have a feeling that if I look in the mirror across from me, my cheeks will still be flushed with that warm, luxurious glow that can only mean one thing.
The last leg of the weekend saw me in fairly high spirits, partly because I was happy to have now moved into a friendly environment, and also because my friend and new housemate, Courtney, is teaching me how to play "the game". I hate the game, I am rubbish at the game, or at least I was, until I was shown how easy, and hell I'll say it, rewarding it is.
I did not respond to Alistair's texts, and if I did, always with short responses, no kisses (oh, the modern times we live in...) Sure enough, his texts just kept coming, and coming, and coming... I suppose lack of self-confidence and fear of rejection has hampered me in the past. I have never dared to behave in this way before, always believing that they would never care enough to hang around, or want to please me. Alistair has spent the last two days becoming more and more worried, and Courtney has spent them instructing me to give a little bit here, withdraw a little bit there.
I gave a little last night and popped across the road for dinner. He had told the ex that he wanted to spend the evening with me, so she promptly invited a mutual friend of all of ours, Ben, for dinner too. I am going to form a support group with him, since he is hopelessly in love with her. It's almost poetic. I arrived, and I was magnificent, never giving too much away, but always knowing when to extend my arms when he became too sad. And yes, all of this makes me sound like a manipulative bitch, but I love him. I have tried everything, and this is all I have left.
Alistair sat with me on the sofa, leaned into me, and told me how sad he was that I had not told him I loved him since he went away. That knowing he had made me so angry upset him so much because he was in love with me. "Love you's" are uttered often enough, but I had to work to maintain my composure as I heard him whisper that he was in love with me.
I went to find cigarettes, and she was annoyed at him in the kitchen, apparently because he had stopped paying her attention when I arrived, and for a fleeting moment I was reminded how much of a damned headfuck all of this is. I think they have been arguing lots over the past few days. I almost walked out at that point, or at least gave the impression that I would. I also smoked the cigarette that we were meant to be sharing because he took so long in the kitchen with her, which I thought was a nice touch. (You learn well, young jedi).
Dinner was very good, as usual. She may have many 'ssues, but a bad cook she is not. Although both mutual friend Ben and I could have done without the moment when she looked up at Alistair and said "So are we ever going to have kids, or what?" I would say you couldn't write it...
But all of this matters little. It was almost midnight, and I offered to tuck Alistair into bed. I led him upstairs, never intending to stay, all the way, stealing my nerve, because that boy is irresistable to me. And, of course, I had absolutely refused to kiss him properly. I was still holding onto that. I pushed him onto the bed and straddled him, raining soft kisses down upon his face and neck, and relishing the fact that I could now bite the pale skin of his throat and hear his soft moans. I held fistfuls of his hair as I gently brushed my lips to his, withdrawing everytime he tried to gain more. Though we were both still dressed, his hard cock was pressed into my groin, and I was no longer sure how I was going to leave...
As the thought of leaving was fast becoming impossible, I decided that if we were going to go down this path, I would be calling the shots, and I was fucking nobody. Alistair was now naked, and I pushed him down again, turned my back, straddling him, and worked my way up his body. He writhed underneath me, and emitted those tiny little moans that I adore. With my hands I slowly parted my arse-cheeks and lowered myself onto his face. I told him to fuck my arse with his tongue, and my breathing quickened as I felt him work his way in. I fed him poppers as I reminded him what an awful weekend I had had. I pressed my arse down onto his face hard, and as I spitefully played with his nipples, his cock looked so rigidly hard that all I wanted was to feel it inside my mouth, fucking my face. He has a beautiful ten inch cock, and it has spoilt me...
But still, all of this matters not, because somewhere between the face sitting and tormenting, something changed. Suddenly, I was on my back, and he was on top of me, his beautiful hair falling down his face. I lifted my head, kissed him quickly, gently, and turned my head in frustration, still unwilling to give him my first kiss. Still determined that when it happened, it would be perfect. He whispered softly into my ear "I know, I want to kiss you too". I could feel his cock brushing against my pussy, and I wanted it inside me more than anything. Nevertheless, I continuously moved my hands down to cover myself every time he tried to push into me, and all the while, we moaned, sighed, panted, as we exchanged our tantalisingly short, shallow kisses. Occasionally, my tongue would flick across his lip, or his mine, until finally I could bear it no more. I looked up into his pretty, brown eyes, and withdrew my hand. He returned my gaze and thrust inside me, as he did so, a moan escaped his lips and he fell against me. I could feel my heart beating fast here, and fluttering there... and a warmth and tingling pulsed through my entire body. And it was different, this wasn't simple arousal and satiated lust, and this time, he wasn't pinning me down and fucking me so hard I screamed. He moved in and out of me as gently as our sighs, and as he did so, he lowered his face down next to mine and whispered, "I am not fucking you, I am making love to you," and although this was perhaps the first time we had had sex without any element of power exchange, I felt helpless, exquisitely helpless. I took his chin in my hands, and moved his face to kiss him, I think at first he was not sure that I wanted him to, because he hesitated, but then he kissed me, slowly, tenderly, and it was everything a first kiss should be. When his lips broke away from mine, he lowered his head and softly said, "You were right, that was perfect..."