It’s about to get Juicy…

“Take me to 83rd street and 1st Ave.” I told the cab driver.

I was on my way to Isabella’s apartment. Our date went great and we have been spending hours talking and texting ever since. There is never a dull moment between us. She is ridiculously smart, easy-going and such a great conversationalist. I’ve heard His (Michael’s) voice in the background a few times while her and I have been talking, and I must say it is kind of weird. I care and I don’t. It bothers me sometimes because I feel a bit guilty (because of my own personal intentions) and I don’t care other times simply because a) I don’t actually know him and b) I just want to taste her. There can’t be any harm in that…right?

I finally arrive and start making my way up to her apartment. As I walk up the stairs a thought suddenly comes to mind: is He going to be there? I mean, I would assume so because it was already 8 p.m., but then again I couldn’t understand why she would invite me over while he was there.

I ring the doorbell and she opens the door with an ear to ear grin and gives me a hug and kiss on the cheek. I proceed to walk into the living room and… He’s there. At this point I’m stunned, but I quickly snap myself out of it.

“Hi, nice to meet you.” we both rehearsed at the same time.

A handshake.

“She’s who I have been talking to you about. We just re-connected after so long.” Isabella announced.

“Yes. I’ve heard a lot about you.” He vouched.

I nodded and smiled. I mean, what else was I supposed to say? Her and I continued to the kitchen and sat down on the dining table. She poured us both a glass of red wine.

We looked at each other for a few seconds. I smiled, “So, how have you been?”

“I’ve been good,” she laughed and lowered down her tone, “you know how I’ve been.”

I glanced to the living room,”Well, I have to play the role.”

We talked about everything in the book from other things going on in our lives, to fashion, to what good movies are playing…etc. After a couple of hours He went to the kitchen, said he was going to bed, bid goodnight and disappeared. She got up, went to the living room and signaled me to follow her. I did and we both sat on the couch facing one another, with our glasses of wine in hand. I was starting to feel a familiar buzz and so was she because her eyes started to get a bit glassy and we started finding everything funnier as the night went by.

A tingly sensation went from my neck to my spine and rested itself on my clit.

“I forgot to tell you something.” I alluded.

She raised an eyebrow, “Oh?”

“I get really horny when I drink wine. I don’t know it’s instant.” I cooed.

A lingering stare.

“Did you know that I have my clit pierced?” she asked.

Holy shit

I cleared my throat and swallowed, “No. really? That’s really fucking hot. Can I see it?”

“Would you like to feel it?” she unzipped her pants.

I looked at her face for a sign of confirmation and moved closer to her. My left hand’s middle finger went in and there was nothing. Holding her gaze I still proceeded to keep going down- her mouth slightly opened and pleasure suddenly struck her facial features.

“So you lied huh? It isn’t pierced.” I slowly took my fingers out of her pants and pulled back, but as I did that she lunged toward me and…

our lips met.

I grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her closer to me. Her lips so soft and luscious- drowning mine…

Our tongues conversing…

As she slowly pulled back her eyes opened- dazed. We both looked at each other with awe and fascination.

“Let me taste you.” I whispered in her ear.

“You wouldn’t.” She questioned.

I got on my knees, facing her and pulled her pants down.

Her legs divided.

I pressed my mouth against her kitty and my tongue began to explore its every corner; my fingernails gently scratching down her inner thighs.

Her eyes rolled back- heavily breathing. Her moaning faintly ringing against my ears.

My heart began to race. What if he abruptly comes out? I thought. We’re both dead. I wonder if he hears her. Is he sleeping? I hope he is- for all our sakes. The suspense was killing me, yet the thought that he could come out of his room any second was thrilling. I couldn’t believe what was happening. Were we crazy? Was SHE crazy?! I mean, she has everything to loose- I don’t. And for some twisted reason that attracted me more to her. She was putting it all at stake at this very moment and all she was doing was tightly grasping the cushions of the couch.

Her teeth sinking down her bottom lip. 

I looked at the time… 11:57 p.m. I had to leave by 12 a.m. to catch the train back home.

I finally pulled back- breathing heavily as if out of breath; my saliva and her juices circling my lips and trickling down my chin. I smiled, got up and headed to the bathroom to clean up. I looked at myself in the mirror in shock and yet in full satisfaction- wow. This really just happened. I’m the fucking man!… or woman. I made my way back to the living room where she was seated- her look of disbelief was priceless.

“I would absolutely love to stay and talk about how amazing I was,” sarcasm in my tone, “but I have to go.”

She exhaled and walked me to the door. We gazed at each other for  a few seconds and our lips met again.

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow?” Her eyes glistened.

“Or tonight.” I grinned.

As I ran down the hallway and disappeared down the stairs, I laughed and shook my head… 12 a.m.

Cinderella much? 

Love at first sight or Lust at first sight?

“Where are you?”

I was walking on the streets of 42nd street and I couldn’t find the restaurant Isabella had told me to meet her up in. So, she told me to meet her on the streets’ corner. I’m a born and raised New Yorker, but for some reason I have no sense of direction- even if my life depended on it.

She repeated, “Where are you?! I’m wearing a long light brown pea coat.”

I glanced around searching for her and there she was across the street amidst the hundreds of people. Tall and beautiful- just like in her picture and how I remembered her. I waved to catch her attention. She looked at me and smiled.

The traffic light was green and as I waited for it to turn red, my heart started to race. Wow. This was it- she was a few feet away from me. And may I add, waiting for the light to turn red was the longest wait of my life.

“Hello Isabella! Oh my God- you haven’t changed.”

“Look at you! All grown up!” she exclaimed.

We hugged and made our way to the restaurant. She had reserved a table for us, so when we got there we didn’t have to wait.

“This is my favorite restaurant in the city.” She said.

Hmmm….so does that mean I should feel special?….maybe not…maybe I’m reading too much into it.

The whole time I was trying to not look directly at her face, into her eyes. I don’t know why, but I felt like if I did- I would feel something that I wasn’t supposed to. She ordered food for both of us and an alcoholic beverage for herself (because I’m not 21 so I couldn’t order one) and we decided to share it. We would wait for the waitress to leave and make sure she wasn’t looking, and I would take a sip. It may sound stupid, but it was sort of….fun….silly fun (and I hadn’t had “silly” fun in a long time.) We talked about our lives and everything in between. Everything was just so easy…so…

NATURAL.

I was really enjoying her company….a little too much….and I think she was enjoying mine as well- or at least I’d like to think she was. As the night progressed I suggested we go to Applebees where I’d be allowed to drink because they’re not as strict with ID. She agreed and we made our way out. We got to Applebees and ordered two drinks at the bar. She sat right next to me and I noticed she was wearing a dress. Not a fancy dress, a casual one- with stockings and boots. So simple… and that intrigued me in a way. Simplicity isn’t something I’m used to. She looked soooo fucking good. I looked up and then…

Our eyes locked.

A tingle went down my spine.

I shivered.

We smiled and casually looked away. I was stunned. I mean, I remember having crushes, but not like this- at least not the first time I’ve met someone. I felt a sense of connection with her. It wasn’t just a sexual connection- but something a bit more than that and I couldn’t really put my finger on it.

I looked down at her left hand.

Her engagement ring- laying perfectly still on her finger. A princess cut diamond…sparkling.

“So, whose this lucky guy?” I asked. I didn’t want to ask questions about her fiancée, but upon laying my eyes on the ring- I kind of felt inclined to.

“Oh, Michael? He’s the love of my life.” She rested her right hand on her chest and looked up at the lights above us, “I love Michael. I can’t wait to marry him. He’s the apple of my eye.”

Her eyes glistened.

My heart sank.

Why the fuck am I feeling like this? I thought to myself. I don’t like her like that! I just like her sexually and I just want to fuck her. She can talk all she wants about how much she “loves” this man and I shouldn’t care. I don’t even know her for goodness fucking sakes! I told myself this over and over again- with a hint of frustration. I played it cool and uttered, “Awww how cute. I’m happy for you.” She took off her sweater- revealing a butterfly tattoo placed on her left shoulder. I asked her about it and she said she drew it and it was a special butterfly to her…whatever that meant. I touched it. Her skin felt so soft against my fingers.

Our eyes met again. I felt an urge to lunge at her and kiss her. But I knew I couldn’t. I’m confident enough to make first moves, but she was giving me mixed signals and I wasn’t about to get rejected. I strategically placed my hand on her thigh and gazed at her. She looked back at me with the same lustful, yet shy look. I held her gaze for a few seconds then looked away and exhaled.

She knew I wanted her.

After a few more laughs, drinks and looks- we finally headed out to take the train back home. After about half an hour we arrived at her destination.

“Thank you so much for tonight. It was great.” She grinned.

“No, thank you! It was definitely my pleasure.” I gushed.

“I’ll text you or call you when I get home.” She asserted.

A mutual kiss on the cheek.

I watched her walk away through the window glass of the train…

This could only happen to ME.

I texted her.

I was looking through my phone, found her name still on my contact list and decided to text her. She texted back and we went back and forth for hours. I told her about me going to NYU and she remembered I had told her that it was my dream school when I was in the 9th grade. That made me feel good that she still remembered a few things about me. She congratulated me and I asked her about her love life. Big mistake. Now brace yourselves for this….

SHE’S ENGAGED.

To some basketball playing, lawyer that she went to college with. They’ve been together for five years and the whole nine yards. Now don’t get me wrong, I am all up for long relationships- but she shocked me with that one. Oh, and here’s another one…

They live together. How-fucking-cute.

I wanted to throw up. I was definitely not expecting that one. I’m surprised they don’t have kids (that would have been the ultimate deal breaker.) I played it cool because to be completely honest- I’m not looking to date the woman, I just want to make my friends shut the hell up and stick to my word. Although- they have no idea that her and I have been talking over the phone (they stopped harassing me about the bet once we graduated) and I kinda want to keep it that way. I’ve never been the type to kiss and tell.

I asked her if she could send me a picture of herself and that I would return the favor. She agreed and we exchanged pictures. And holy shit she looked beautiful! Wearing a short, tight black dress, showing off her long legs, slim toned body and heels that screamed out “fuck me!” She was perfect. Just as I remembered her, but with a whole lot of sex appeal. Now this was definitely the point of no return.

After quarrelling in my head on whether or not I should confess and tell her about my crush on her about a hundred times- I finally asked, “Can I tell you something? Don’t feel weird or anything.” With an ever so welcoming tone she exclaimed, “Oh of course! You can tell me anything.” I paused- taken aback by her quick response, “I used to have a crush on you back then. Like, I was infatuated with you. It was actually pretty funny. Oh, and I’m gay.”

Silence.

“Oh wow really? That’s cute. Are you really gay? I find that hard to believe. You’re so pretty- you don’t look gay.”

Time-out. Let’s pause for a second here. What does that mean I don’t look gay?! I can’t stand those words. I’m pretty darn sure that I speak for every lipstick lesbian out there when I say that that’s one of the most ignorant things to say. Let me get this straight (no pun intended): So if I dress, look, smell and act like a girl I can’t possibly be a lesbian- or like girls for that matter? If I love to go shopping, am obsessed with 5 inch heels and pumps, have to have a mani/pedi every week, love jewelry and purses, wax every month and always have my hair done- I’m not allowed to be attracted to women? I LOVE being a woman and I love women that look like women. Because if I wanted to be with someone who looks, acts, dresses and smells like a guy- I’d rather date the real deal (no offense to my butch/stud ladies.)

Anyway, after being slightly offended by her remark I said, “Yes I am- believe it or not. You’re probably not going to talk to me after this right? I doubt you like girls anyway.” I said that, but for some reason I’ve always gotten a gayish vibe from her- and I’m usually dead on when it comes to my gaydar. “Actually, you are wrong. I dated a woman when I was in high school all the way to the beginning of college.” WHAT?! ”AND she was my teacher.”

no-fucking-way.

Jackpot! She is soooo gay. We kept talking about it and she delivered all the juicy details of her lezzy adventure. And at this point I was just completely turned on by her.

We’ve been texting and talking on the phone all day nonstop.

She’s been flirting…a lot. We play off of each other extremely well- it scares me.

Is it fucked up that I’m still contemplating going through with everything even though she is engaged?! Am I some immoral, selfish asshole that only wants to fulfill my fantasy of six years ago (kind of “hit it and quit it” and just to say I did it kind of thing) and not even acknowledge her unavailability, off-the-market status? I mean, it can’t be that bad, right? It’s not like she’s married… yet.

We have a date tomorrow to meet up and “catch-up” in the city and I’m NOT going to chicken out. I’m pretty nervous, but I’m excited as well. The chemistry on the phone is ridiculous. This looks like it can get heated pretty quickly and I might just be down to get burned!

OR- I’m reading too much into it and things won’t play out how I think they will. Maybe she really does want to just catch-up with a former student and her intentions aren’t as malicious as mine. Maybe she’s absolutely in love with her fiancee, but doesn’t know what to do/say with the attention I’m giving her so she’s leading me on. This all may be true, but somehow I’m not convinced.

We’ll see.

A glance into the past…

Let’s call her Isabella.

She was my first girl crush. As soon as I layed eyes on her when she walked into my 9th grade Math classroom I fell in amor. Ok- maybe I’m exaggerating a little…ok a lot, but you get the picture. Tall, with a butter-peacan complexion, dark features, raspy voice and catwalk, I instantly became attracted to her. My 9th grade teacher introduced her as a teacher-student. Yes, she was a college student studying to be a Math teacher and was going to be my teachers assistant for the next six weeks. I was ecstatic! The next six weeks were amazing- challenging her with my witty remarks in class and asking for her help even when I didn’t need it; just so I could have her attention and have her near me. Day and night my thoughts were consumed with her and I was pretty confused. Growing up in an Evangelist home, developing crushes on the same-sex wasn’t exactly what my dear mother wanted to hear or even fathom. So, I kept my Hell-condemning secret to myself- eagerly waiting for the next day just so I could see Isabella’s beautiful face and spend my double period in Math with her.

I finally told my two best friends about my not-so-little secret and they weren’t surprised- they actually took it all in pretty well. And so I made a bet with them saying, “I will be fucking Isabella one day when I graduate highschool.” (Yes, I had a sailor’s tongue and extremely vivid imagination and pornographic view on sex for a 14 year old… don’t judge me.) They laughed, brushed me off and walked away. Interpreting that as a way of saying that they didn’t take me serious, I took that on as a challenge (remember on my previous post I said I loved challenges) and the bet was on.

Now, let’s fast-forward three years.

Senior in high school, graduating and forgotten all about Isabella- after all, she was only a part of my life for a month and a half. One day, my best friends approached me and brought up the bet I had made three years ago. I laughed, “That was so long ago. You guys definitely didn’t take me serious. We were young.” With a stern look on their faces one of them replied, “Uhm, no. You’re not off that easily. Are you going to do it or what? We graduate in a month.” I looked at them, arms crossed, staring at me dead in the face. I nodded, and made my way up to my 9th grade Math teachers classroom. Lucky for me she was on her free period. She would see me everyday and I always visited her. So, it was no surprise that I was in her classroom. We spoke for a while, and then I finally found the balls within myself to ask her, “How is Isabella? Do you have her number?” Stunned, but not really because I’ve always had a blunt attitude she replied, “I think she is good. But I don’t think it’s appropriate for you to have her number.” I laughed, not taking her serious at all, shrugged and dismissed the topic. The bell rang and her class was coming in. Being the mischievous and stubborn teenager that I was, I waited for her to turn her back, grabbed her phone, looked through her contacts as fast as I could and EUREKA!- I found Isabella’s number.

A few days later, after practicing breathing techniques (because that’s how fucking nervous I was) I called her. No answer. So, I left her a beautiful, confident yet kinda awkward message telling her who I was, if she remembered me and to call me back! The next day she did (I was profusely sweating like a dirty fat old man walking under the sun in the summertime; under a few layers of sweaters when I saw her glorious name appear on my iPhones screen… go figure) and we spoke for a little. It was short- asking each other the basics. I asked her where she lived and she lived about ten minutes away from me. At this news I asked if I could come see her and to my shocking surprise she said yes! My heart stopped- I wasn’t expecting that answer at all. I swallowed and with the most confident voice I could find within me said, “See you in about an hour.”

That never happened. I chickened out. ME?! One of the most popular girls in school, leader of my group of friends and captain of the dance team. Yes, it even happens to the best of us. I let that go and apparently she did too (because she never called/texted to ask me whether or not I was going to make it) and that was that. That was two years ago.

And come to think of it…I think I’m going to give her a call (or text… knowing my lack-of- ball sack self when it comes to her) tomorrow.

Let’s see what she’s up to…

                         NOT SO MUCH…

Lusting for the Forbidden

  

  The forbidden fruit is always the sweetest…

I don’t know why, but I’ve always been the type of person to love a challenge. I think part of it is because I almost NEVER have a challenge…when it comes to who I date that is. Not to sound cocky, but I have never been rejected…EVER. And I have never been told I’m ugly…atleast not to my face. “You’re beautiful,” “you’re gorgeous,” “you’re alluring and mysterious,” “I would love it if you were my girl…” are all things I have heard all my life from both men and women. It has actually gotten to the point where if someone tells me that I am attractive, it doesn’t phase me anymore. It really does go through one ear and out the other. And not to say that I am not grateful for all the attention I get…it is indeed flattering. BUT since I get so much of it, I don’t care for it anymore and I sometimes don’t even want it. Sure, I have an outgoing personality, I’m a people person, and I’m a dancer (ballerina) so you could say I’m used to having “all eyes on me.” However, there is one thing about me that has always been a down fall and that is that I’m attracted to the forbidden. I’m a thrill seeker, love a challenge (as I mentioned before), and I’m spontaneous. Another little detail about myself: I’m bisexual. I’m attracted to both men and women, but there’s always been something about women that has allured me a little more. The gentleness and delicateness of a beautiful woman drives me crazy. Their touch, their smell, and taste (depending on how clean a woman is…if you know what I mean *wink wink*) is out of this world.

I’ve always been compared to Shane from the ShowTime series The L Word and Whitney from The Real L Word (if you’re familiar with these shows you know that both characters are promiscuous women whom are immune to L-O-V-E ♥ I’ve never been in love, but I can say I’ve loved, cared for and have been infatuated, but I don’t consider myself promiscuous. However, I’m in love with love, but have never found that ONE person that makes me want to make them my one and only.  I’m young and I live in NYC, so my exposure to the LGBT community hasn’t been that long ago. But in the short amount of time that I’ve been part of the LGBT world, I’ve had an array of crazy experiences with women. And since I have always had older friends, I get into 21+ clubs and I meet older women. I don’t know why, but I’ve always dated older people (both men and women). Not much older though: less than 10 year difference. Let’s just say I’m under 21 but older than 18- so that only gives you two guesses to how old I am (lol). Ok- fuck it. I’m 20.

Anyway, the women I date are usually in their mid 20′s. I have only dated two men my whole life and was in a serious relationship with both, but for the past few years women have been the center of my dating life and I’ve stopped dating men. Not that I don’t like them anymore or don’t find them attractive, but it has just played out that way. I’m a lot pickier when it comes to dating men than dating women. Anyway, through the course of my “lesbianism” I’ve dated girls left and right, but have only had sex with a few. You can say that I’m a “player”- although I don’t see it that way, but my friends do. I’m young, but being with these older women (although for a short amount of time) has made me realize what women want and desire- which is also based on myself. Being with a woman is a lot more passionate, full-filling both mentally and emotionally, but it is also a lot more DRAMATIC. Yes, being with another woman other than yourself can get pretty chaotic and emotionally draining. Throughout my short and lustful relationships with other women I’ve seen how romantic, caring and sweet they can be, but I’ve also seen how crazy and stalk-ish they can get when infatuated.

Overall, my life is a DRAMA with a beginning, middle and no end…

Stay tuned for my erotic, exotic, dangerous, thrilling, enticing, depressing, romantic, vivacious, ridiculous, DRAMATIC lifestyle and double-life…