Bad Ideas

I can't think of a time when I've fucked someone because I was angry at them. I might have fucked someone while I was angry at them, but it's never been a reason that I can remember. Rage-fuck is bad news.

I'm not sure that desperation-loneliness-fuck is any better really. Maybe if it's someone you love, but then it's really less of that and more of a need-of-comfort-fuck, which I've done, on both sides of the equation, and don't think is bad at all. Sex can be comforting. Sure, if all the sex you have with someone is because you want comfort, that's probably not healthy, especially since it tends to lead you to be rather selfish in bed, but occasionally, curling up with someone is curling up with someone.

But I was in fairly bad shape on Saturday. I thought I was getting over the worst of it, and Sveta had been helpful over the phone when she really has better things to do than to baby me long-distance. But clearly I was fooling myself. I went out with some people from the theater, including the cute guy from a while back, because I couldn't really keep to myself any longer. I had to try to be social or else I'd totally lose my ability to deal with other people. I get out of practice quickly.

We went to see another show, someone else's show, which was... not all that great, honestly. Then we were hanging out at someone's house. I tried not to be clingy, I really did. But I wound up talking with Cute Guy a lot. Let's call him Eric. He didn't seem to mind, and I tried not to interfere with any of his conversations with other people. But eventually we were alone and I whispered to him, "You want to find someplace quieter?"

He's not an idiot. We found a quiet closet, closed the door, and then began the groping. And the stroking. And his pants were down around his ankles, his hand was on the back of my head, and I was sucking his cock with my tits hanging out. We're really lucky that neither of us were screamers, because several people walked by the closet while this was going on. Maybe they were looking for us.

This time I wasn't going to settle for hands and mouth. And I was wearing a dress. So up with that, down with panties, and he pressed me up against the wall kind of awkwardly and did his best to give me what for, until it was just too damn awkward and we shifted to me on my knees, him behind me. We made some noise. I bet someone heard something, but had the politeness not to say anything. I really felt bad afterward for having fucked in someone else's house, someone old enough to be my parents. But at the time, I just wanted it bad.

The thing was, all the time he was fucking me, I wasn't thinking of him at all. I was trying and failing to feel completed by sex, and it wasn't working. I didn't cum. It was bad, so bad that eventually I snapped out of it and tried to cum, just a little, to make him feel better. I don't fake orgasms, but I'm not above enhancing a tiny one into a larger one. But nothing. It's not even like I've had trouble cumming recently; if anything, I've been getting myself off quite successfully.

I don't think I ruined the experience for Eric or anything. I'm plenty tight and wet, I think I'm worth fucking even if I'm not completely into it and I don't cum, and he wasn't bad at it so it was all on me. He lasted long enough that I should have cum at least twice. It just wasn't happening. But anyway, I finished him off in my mouth, then let him exit first while I tidied up a bit. He was a perfect gentleman, didn't make the remainder of the evening awkward, didn't avoid eye contact or cling. It could have been a perfectly acceptable interlude. I just felt like it was going to eat me up inside.

I drove home, crushed, called Sveta and woke her up, told her to go back to bed, then called Mike, who was as helpful as someone over the phone could be. Then I crawled into Mom and Dad's bed and cuddled up against Dad. He woke up a little, put his arm around me, and we just stayed like that for a while until I couldn't stay without tossing and turning and waking everyone up, so I sneaked out again.

I feel bad. I've been making overtures to Eric to possibly see him again because I feel like he deserves better, in a bed where we don't have to rush, where maybe I can be more present. Or maybe it's because I'm feeling so lonely I'm willing to use him. I don't really want him; he's cute and all, but I'm not sure he's fuck-buddy material. And I don't want to promise him something I'm not going to deliver.

However, since Saturday, I've been feeling a bit better about other things, and other events have happened which I may get to at some point soon, so who knows? Maybe I can give Eric what he deserves, or at least apologize for being a jerk. Maybe he can be my boy-toy. I mean, he was no slouch. Certainly worth having again. I just need to try to do the right thing.