Old School
Before all the sex, drugs and rock and roll. Before I understood that love wasn’t real. I had a boyfriend. A stereotypical high school nightmare, him the Football Guy and me the Cheer Captain. The first 8 months of our 2 years were grand while the remaining was spent figuring how to get out alive.
April 19, 2010
Before all the sex, drugs and rock and roll. Before I understood that love wasn’t real. I had a boyfriend. A stereotypical high school nightmare, him the Football Guy and me the Cheer Captain. The first 8 months of our 2 years were grand while the remaining was spent figuring how to get out alive.
He was the first person I slept with, first guy to make me cum. I loved sex from day one. The tales of our relationship would not only bore you, but also frighten you to your core; instead I am skipping along to the juicy goodness. The breakup.
I had finally been given my out; Football Guy had hung up on me for the very last time. The next morning he approached me in the hallway. Tried to kiss me and I turned my cheek. “Why did you hang up on me?” I demanded. His response, “I didn’t feel like talking to you anymore.”
The entire day he kept approaching me for a kiss, my response, “I didn’t FEEL like it.” Heading to my last class of the morning he cornered me, told me if I walked away from him it was over. I turned on the heel of my espadrilles and walked into class, adrenaline pumping through my veins.
Like clockwork Football Guy was standing outside my class when the bell rang. I walked by him. He grabbed my wrist, demanding we speak. I told him I had lunch plans that perhaps I would FEEL like talking to him after.
Heading into my first class post lunch drink in hand, he was waiting outside the giant glass wall of the science lab. He demanded to know what was going on. I told him I thought it was over; after all I had walked away. He laughed, “I was just threatening you.” He stared at me and I looked him square in the eye, for the first time feeling confident towards him. He asked if I still loved him. Silence. I took a long sip of my diet coke before answering, “No.”
He grabbed the drink from my hand, threw it in my face before punching the wall beside my head. I could feel the breeze on my cheek as his fist crunched into the drywall. I just kept staring him in the eye. He pushed me, for the last time, into the wall and then stormed around the corner and up the stairs.
I stood, my white sundress dripping in soda. I could see the kids in the science room on their phones, texts to everyone what they had witnessed. I had never felt better. I was free; let the games begin.
Lesson In Linguistics
I have always had a thing for MEN. My first real crush was on my father’s best friend and yes I still have a small thing for him. His son was my age and had a crush on me, but lets be honest… I have never really been interested in playing with boys.
@mpieram_design
I have always had a thing for MEN. My first real crush was on my father’s best friend and yes I still have a small thing for him. His son was my age and had a crush on me, but lets be honest… I have never really been interested in playing with boys.
This story is not about my father’s friend though.
3-2 is what my best friends used to call him to tease me, so we will call him just that, 3-2.
He was very hansom and flirtatious and the first real man that I was “with”. We met in person just once, as he lived half way across the country, at a dinner where I was most definitely with my parents; yet that did not stop our flirtations. We began what would become exactly what I needed at the time.
I was in my first year of university and had no time for anything, 3-2 was about to push me into being more adventurous and more sexual than any of the boys I had dealt with in the past. It would only be fair to credit him with pretty much all of my phone-sex skills. For several months we spoke almost every night.
Each time the calls would become more sexual, a bit dirtier and certainly more aggressive. He was a complete pervert, as are most men interested in sex and I would blow his mind by recounting every last detail about the fit of my cheerleading uniform. The way it felt when his hands would slide up under the pleats of my skirt, pushing my panties to the side and feeling how soft and wet I was. He loved hearing me cum, the way my breath would get short and fast and how I would moan in ecstasy. The sounds of my pleasure would drive him wild.
I can’t remember why the calls ever stopped, but 3-2 initiated me into the wonderful world of phone-sex, something that I continue to adore now. I am not sure what turns me on more about it, hearing what my lover wants to do to me, or seeing how turned on he gets hearing what I want to do to him. Either way, I must keep enjoying it until I find the answer… Wouldn't you agree?
The Offseason
Although I was the captain of my high school cheerleading team, I do not date athletes. Okay, who am I kidding I don’t really DATE anyone.
This Past New York Fashion Week I worked on the production of a very important designer's show. We had a handsome Pro-athlete “helping out” as our intern. He was so not my type, tall, overly muscular, tattooed and of course a professional athlete. Although I was the captain of my high school cheerleading team, I do not date athletes. Okay, who am I kidding I don’t really DATE anyone.
I knew nothing about his sport and when we met I’d asked if he played offense or defense. After flirting at the show he invited me to have dinner with his crew at Buddakan and then out dancing, just the two of us, at Avenue. We spent the night drinking champagne at the back booth and kissing endlessly as onlookers stared enviously. I am pretty sure I heard him telling people I was his future wife, too bad I don’t plan to get married.
As we lay in his hotel room bed doing everything but fuck I knew that although he invited me to Miami for his offseason, I’d never see him again after that night. I had to respectfully decline.
As I’ve said before, I don’t date athletes. They put themselves first, their team second and YOU third. Cumming three times? Yes. Coming third? I am never interested in coming third.