* More on The Doctor* *Again..really sorry about posting so late!*
The third date we agreed to sex. I mean, the foreplay and teasing was going pretty well, right? There were some moments where I was a little confused. Such as, I’ve never dated a butch that wanted their breasts played with so much. The butches I’ve dated have always said tits and ass were off limits. She assured me that she wasn’t stone by any means.
Umm..OK. I’ve dated butches who weren’t stone and they still didn’t like their boobs played with. It’s just always been a thing with the butches I’ve dated…
OK. So, she’s doing all the right things with me. I’m getting really wet. Had a couple of little orgasms. She said that she wanted me to have a really big orgasm and then it’s her turn.
Huh? I don’t work that way.
With that sort of predictability I sort of dry up. A bit too…mechanical.
Well, I tried. I wanted to cum really hard. I was maneuvering around, bouncing, riding, twisting my own nipples. Begging her to bite me. She wouldn’t. Ugh. Just one good bite in the crook of my neck while pulling my hair would’ve set me off.
That’s the orgasm you’re waiting for, Hon! That’s the orgasm I want! I need. If you want yours directly after mine? Ya gotta get me to that point.
Butch is always a different sort in the bedroom. And sometimes. Well, I get really excited when it comes to fucking. I tend to be rough and just excited. The butches I’ve dated (The Doctor included) tend to like it a little soft. The best way to calm me down would be to wear me the fuck out.
This is the part that always bugs me about lesbian relationships. I hate to be this way. But, seriously. What is so hot about relishing in a good orgasm only to be told, “My turn.” or “OK. Now you do me.”
Not even in that fun, dom/sub way, either. It’s just a point blank toddler wanting to share toys until the count of ten or something.
Never mind the fact that I was not done! >.<
Y’all see the little princess stomping her little white shoes, pig tails bouncing and a fluffy pink dress? My turn isn’t over yet! OK. It’s our first time at sex together. This is an intimacy and communication thing we can deal with at some point in the very near future!
Since our having sex, I had stayed the night a couple of nights. One of those nights, simply sleeping over. Her dog and I seemed to be getting really close. Her and I? It was just this odd tangle with my insides.
Am I being too critical? Are the similarities to Ex-Hubby just a bit too much for me? She looked a lot like her. Everyone has a type, right? Ugh..
There were other creepy moments of deja vu! While we were dating she was looking into buying a house in the Houston area. Here we are just starting to date and I’m looking at houses with her. Part of this could be my own damn fault. I’ll admit. I fuckin’ love house shopping! Everything about it. I like to imagine cooking in the kitchen, redecorating, how I want the mood for each room. I’m big on lots of windows, counter space, hardwood floors and a backyard. While others may not be. Looking at houses with her she’d ask me if I would be comfortable cooking in that kitchen.
Um. We’re only dating. We’ve only just had sex. We’re still kinda new! Like, I hadn’t even considered introducing her to my parents yet! New!
Here we go. The big one. On one of our dates I had mentioned that I’m a little OCD. I believe in a place for everything and everything in it’s place. I don’t like organized chaos, clutter drawers and catch all tables. She admitted that she pays a cleaning lady to come to her apartment. She also admitted that she doesn’t like to cook simply because of the cleaning involved afterwards. Says that she’d cook if someone else would clean. I told her that’s how I prefer things while I’m in a relationship. “He who cooks doesn’t clean.” It was also questioned if I care about how soon a place gets dirty.
“If you walk in the house and it smells like I just spent all day cleaning. Come home and drop all your crap everywhere? We’re gonna have problems. You’ve literally shat on all my hard work.” I explained. Y’all see why being a housewife was not for me!
I meet The Doctor at her house after I get out of work. She opens her door and I’m immediately greeted by her dog jumping on me. We exchange human/dog hugs. The Doctor is finally able to give me a hello kiss. I’m able to get inside…and…Oh. My. Gawd.
All over her beautiful hardwood floors were cardboard toilet paper rolls. Shredded toilet paper. And..uh..is that a tampon wrapper? Umm…oh..wow. You’re fucking kidding me! Used fucking tampons?!?! Seriously?!?! Used fucking tampons?!?! On the living room floor? From last night!!
“What on Earth happened?” I exclaim.
“Oh. My dog got a little anxious last night and hit the bathroom trashcan. Sorry about the mess.” She explains.
Uh. Huh. Blame the dog.
I get out of work at 10PM! “This is from last night?”
“Yea. She gets a little restless sometimes.” She says again.
Totally confused, “When did you get out of work?”
Shrugs looking around, “About 7-ish. I was watching my show.”
ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!?!?!
We went out to dinner and she kept getting around to the topic of this wedding I was attending and shopping for. It’s been a few too many weddings for me lately. So, I was gonna go to this wedding looking hot. Never mind, the people there. Never mind, that it was outdoors. I bought a cute pin-up style dress, thigh highs with the seam, garter belt set and a new pair of patent leather black pumps. She asked about what I was wearing and I told her. It made her want to go even more so than before.
I had explained that I hate going to weddings and wouldn’t drag anyone else along. I’m perfectly fine going alone. The wedding was for an old co-worker and it’d mostly be work people. She kept pushing for me to ask her.
“OK. Would you like to go to the wedding with me?” I asked.
“Yes. I’d love to be your date.” She answers.
Hmm. Stay tuned..