home world

I'm going on a first date with that guy I fucked at that wedding tonight. We are both busy this week with work and everything, and this was pushed a couple of times already, so tonight is sort of a "now or never" situation and we finely, after both of us coming back late from work, get together.

On my way there I'm checking out to see if the words "fuck toy" from the weekend are still showing on my belly, there's a slight tint of it, but if someone doesn't look for it, someone won't find it. "I can always pretend to be one of those girls who only fucks in the dark" I think. It's odd - this guy doesn't know me, he doesn't know of this blog or of my art or that quite a few of the graffiti that follows me through the streets from my place to his are mine.

He's a stranger, and I'm a stranger, and we are two people who met at a wedding and we go on a date, a real proper date, aside of the fact that we already fucked and I gave him a blow job in the bushes the other week. But right now I can totally re-invent myself, I can be whatever I want - is that how people usually feels on first dates?! Like they are reinventing themselves? Wearing the skin of the person they choose to be?

I can be whatever person I choose to be tonight, and I resolve to be sweet and normal and not at all dark.

And it's sort of working, we talk a bit at his apartment, then we go out for a drink. And as I get in, the most predictable thing in the world happened, something that I knew is going to take place, right across our table in the bar. I spot bondage guy, the cry in public girl and another guy I've never met before. This city's so small sometime, it feels like its just 4 people chasing each other's tails.

We talk, one of those first date talk about what we did in the army and what schools we went to and all those Israeli mutual experience talks that I hate so much and makes me feel completely misplaced, but it's flowing. We talk about my sister, very briefly, and then we talk about his childhood in Herzelia - Now guess what?! The guy lived his entire childhood a building across the street from my ex, he know him by face and his brother's used to play with my ex's brother. We laugh a lot, it's pretty flowing talk, but I just keep feeling bored. I miss myself, I don't like the shallowness of this situation, those half hearted conversations about past relationships and books he didn't read and hi-tech jobs. He talks about a sexual connection he had with a 36 year old married woman who he fucked for a while after he broke up with his girlfriend.
"She really liked sex" he say "in her age, unlike my other girlfriends, she was much over a lot of her body issues and if I didn't feel like it, she would make sure that I'll get in the mood." It take me a while to realize that he’s talking about the peak of his sexual experience. His ultimate sex fantasy, and I really don't know how to satire this conversation, do I spread my own tale of sexual experiences form the past couple of weeks? Do I just listen? Sexual anxiety kicks in when I realize I have absolutely no idea what he's expecting me to say or do. So I make an educated guess that this got to be related to the prospects of us fucking later on.

So we leave that place and go back to his apartment, which is very large but sort of sad and moodily. And we kiss in that "we are about to have sex" way, and it's all so predictable, so familiar, like we play a scene from some bad 50's movies. He walk me to the bad, taking off my top, and unbuttoning his shirt. He moans, a lot, my mind keeps diverting, it's all so vanilla, I can't stop imagining this guy screams in pain as his ass's being penetrated, the fear in his eyes and he know he’s about to be whipped. He play with my nipples in an awkward sort of a way, that reminds me of a teenager. As he turns to get a condom from the bed stand , I pass my finger nails down his back and push my tongue up his ass, which he seem to like a little bit more then I expected him to.
He fucks me, clumsily, trying not to cum right away, which I notice. Every time I almost get into it, he stops, he’s making an effort, which is nice, but I’m so not into this.

Is Vanilla sex always this unsatisfying? I keep thinking - I'm never going to find anyone to be with, my reversion keeps me isolated - how can I tell to someone like that "you've been with an older married woman?! Well, that's a coincident, so have I only she came over with her master and he pushed needles into both our nipples..." My life's enough to scare anybody off...

He cums real quick then give me a hand job I don't even enjoy that much, I make and excuse about having to get up early in the morning. I'm horny and confused and afraid to end up living my entire life on my own cause no one I'll even meet's as kinky as I am.

Maybe I'll see him again, I don't know.

To end a perfect evening in a perfect way, I check my phone on the way. The guy that was sitting with bondage guy and cry in public girl send me a massage after she gave him my number. I’m OK with it for maybe 5 minutes before a serious wave of social anxiety comes over and I’m getting paranoid about any person I’m seeing on the street. Like I'm being watched, like everyone knows who I am, and I'm so transparent that they can see my inner organs and my most secret thoughts, like everyone around me point and laugh at me from the inside. It takes me an extra 20 minutes of walking around my apartment until I dare to get in, having to make sure no one's watching me enter the building.

It wasn’t even a bad night, it was fine, in a normal sort of way, which in some ways is even worst then a really disastrous evening.

To many coincidences, to small town, I feel claustrophobic in my own skin.