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snowylinenlandIt looks like the adventure with the bicycle mechanic is due to repeat, and much to my surprise, I'm much more fluttery about it (and him) than I ever expected. We met again today, partially for the same fascinating, caffeinated, rambling conversations of always; partially so I could force the discussion of where we stand. And apparently where we stand is more furious making out, less structured discussion. The discussion of music took place with our legs stacked loosely on each other; the discussion of us, interspersed with kissing. I hope the people inside the cafe didn't mind us blocking their window, didn't mind that his stroking and groping involved shifting both my tank top and prissy little cardigan, didn't care that neither of us seemed particularly inclined to let go.
He brushed my bangs out of my face for me, and kissed the spot where they had been. No one's ever done that to me before.
I think my reaction to this man is a mixture of quite serious liking (he's been an excellent and important friend in the months I've known him), coupled with even more serious lust....and it's the lust that throws me. He's not really my type (stereotypically). I wouldn't check him out on the street. The first time he kissed me was approximately a month ago, and it flummoxed me completely - I figured it was an accident, an excess of enthusiasm after a very excellent day out. When did I notice that we had completely combustible chemistry? Only in the last month, somehow. He used to just give good hugs, and occasionally invade my personal space in ways that made me go, 'Huh. Is that a game we're going to play? Because if so, I'm not going to back down - what's your point?'
Our evening in the shop left me entirely persuaded that whatever we go on to do, we'll enjoy it - this man has a distinctive personal signature to his touch, fast, experienced hands, and isn't especially gentle. It's such an incredible turn on, as is how much he wants me. The way he's touched me so me far (stripped me so far, eaten me out, finger fucked me, sucked and licked and nibbled and scraped and groped) leaves me achingly eager for time alone with him. There's good social, pragmatic reasons not to alter our friendship, but damned if I care when we're alone together.
Maybe actually getting laid will get this out of my system; if so, I'd be disappointed.
(There are other men in my life: my current friend with benefits (he's lovely braincandy, but not quite my thing in bed), an ex housemate I have an enormous - and probably reciprocated - crush on...but none of them inspire me quite like my biking friend. /His/ bones I want to jump as soon, as thoroughly as possible....which might be tomorrow evening. I'll let you know, dear readers. I'm hoping hard.)
He brushed my bangs out of my face for me, and kissed the spot where they had been. No one's ever done that to me before.
I think my reaction to this man is a mixture of quite serious liking (he's been an excellent and important friend in the months I've known him), coupled with even more serious lust....and it's the lust that throws me. He's not really my type (stereotypically). I wouldn't check him out on the street. The first time he kissed me was approximately a month ago, and it flummoxed me completely - I figured it was an accident, an excess of enthusiasm after a very excellent day out. When did I notice that we had completely combustible chemistry? Only in the last month, somehow. He used to just give good hugs, and occasionally invade my personal space in ways that made me go, 'Huh. Is that a game we're going to play? Because if so, I'm not going to back down - what's your point?'
Our evening in the shop left me entirely persuaded that whatever we go on to do, we'll enjoy it - this man has a distinctive personal signature to his touch, fast, experienced hands, and isn't especially gentle. It's such an incredible turn on, as is how much he wants me. The way he's touched me so me far (stripped me so far, eaten me out, finger fucked me, sucked and licked and nibbled and scraped and groped) leaves me achingly eager for time alone with him. There's good social, pragmatic reasons not to alter our friendship, but damned if I care when we're alone together.
Maybe actually getting laid will get this out of my system; if so, I'd be disappointed.
(There are other men in my life: my current friend with benefits (he's lovely braincandy, but not quite my thing in bed), an ex housemate I have an enormous - and probably reciprocated - crush on...but none of them inspire me quite like my biking friend. /His/ bones I want to jump as soon, as thoroughly as possible....which might be tomorrow evening. I'll let you know, dear readers. I'm hoping hard.)
