Bob

I dated this guy once for about a month, let's call him Bob. Before I met Jefferson, I had had a grand total of 5 people whom I had bedded. I started associating with the bunny from this video. That bunny and I were real close.

But back to the point. The relationship lasted about a month, we probably would have killed each other if we had let it go any further, but he and I had sex, as couples are wont to do. In his parents basement, that's what cracked me up the most about it. It was so high school. But what really kept me going was that he drove this truck. He worked for his fathers company, so he had this work truck. I wanted to have sex in that truck like you would not believe, and he wouldn't do it. I know it sounds stupid, but really, I just want to have sex in peoples' cars. I never got to do it in high school, never wanted too. Now as an adult, I can't shake the idea.

Back to the point twice removed.

Bob was bad in bed. He gave me one orgasm the entire time we were together. By the time I came, I had earned that orgasm fair and square. It's not to say that Bob was a virgin, but he was inexperienced enough to think that all women are built alike, and all women are capable of g-spot orgasms. I am no such woman. I am difficult to get off, and the first couple times I sleep with someone, I don't expect to cum. I understand that that is not going to happen easily. But I appreciate it when people try.

Anyway. Bob was so sweet and desperate to get me off; but he didn't want to invest in the effort of figuring it out. He just want my orgasm to magically happen. So he would fuck me, and when he was finished, he would look at me and ask me if I came. I would either tell him I hadn't and reassure him that it was alright, or I would tell him that I did. It got to the point where I started faking it. However, the problem with faking your orgasms is that more like than not your going home and putting your hand between your legs or plugging in the ol' hitachi and having yourself a fabulous albeit lonely time.

The one time he managed to get me off I had to coach him. So I'm lying there, going somewhere with this guy's hand between my legs, playing over my clit, and then he stops, not like teasing, he just stops, like he's done, like I've cum. So I shove my crotch against his hand and he keeps going. This went on and on and on, and finally I came, and in the middle of my orgasm? You guessed it. He stopped. I wanted to smack him.

Finally I stopped trying to save his ego, I had given him all that I had, I went down on him, giving him my Jersey Girl Special, I even titty-fucked him, and I'm a b-cup, I don't have a whole helluva lot to titty-fuck with to begin with. But I reached a point where I just didn't care, I started getting myself off openly and often in front of him, while we fucked, I'd finger myself, I'd cum of my own volition. After a relationship where I constantly had to ask permission to cum, I found the idea novel that I could cum and cum and cum in front of someone and they couldn't do anything about it lest I stop fucking them.

I carried more than my share of the weight in that basement, as it were. I'm like a camel, I really don't mind carrying large burdens, whatever their nature, but when he went to friends of ours and COMPLAINED that I wasn't giving enough in bed, I kinda snapped. For a solid half hour I ranted and raved to Aimee that he was just not worth it, for someone who was so into the idea of getting me off, he wasn't into TRYING to get me off.

We broke up a week later.

I completely forgot that I had had sex with him until I was sitting in the bathroom, peeing at one of Jefferson's orgies when it dawned on me that he was number 4 in the line-up men I had slept with. Funny how these things happen, eh?