So The Fiancé and I are together for 3 years and some change. Enough time to be sufficiently used to each other, and for sex not to be surprise with butterflies in your stomach anymore. Right?

Right. And to think that today all he did was a silly little gesture to a song, in which he grabbed the shoulder of an invisble woman bent over before him with one hand, and slowly thrust his pelvic area forward rhytmically to the music as if fucking her doggy style, eyes closed and with a cocky smile on his face, and that this was all it took to reduce me to a blabbering fool on the spot, and sent me into a masturbating frenzy as soon as I came home, during which I couldn't stop thinking about him and how incredibly handsome and charismatic and sexy he is. To think that's all it takes... still... and I know I am with the right man for the rest of my life.

Can't remember that the last guy who's made it through more than 3 years with me ever induced such thoughts and feelings within me, by merely striking a silly pose for me.

Such charming arrogance with which he carries himself, such sensual abandon with which he indulges in his own sexual pleasures, such self-confidence with which he admits to and lives out his sexual preferences, without caring if his masculinity would be threatened by this in any way - and therefore seeming even more masculine. He is a man who pursues what he wants, gets what he wants, and has no thoughts about if what he likes and what he does is "socially" acceptable or not, just as long as it serves his pleasure and contentment. It is almost as if our recent encounter with Bud only increased his self-confidence even more (if that was even possible!), as if he is now acutely aware of the increased sexual power he holds over me in our shared secret knowledge of what happened. He knows his position, he knows he is the Alpha male, and he completely holds me in his spell, knowing that I know it too.

And I don't mind this arrangement for one second. I like these unconscious little power games, and the aura of victory that seems to surround him. I love the way he carries himself, and how he sometimes has me naked and spread out before him at the snip of his fingers, just because he charms me with his good looks and his attitude all day, so I can't help myself and am craving for the smallest chance to pleasure him. I love how he switches between powerful being in charge and using me to his pleasure, to completely submitting to me for little whiles, to holding me in his strong arms as close to his body as he possibly can, to reaffirm the emotional bond between us when we make love. He is versatile, he enjoys himself no matter what, he can be the most wonderful and selfless lover in one second, and the selfishly and roughly pounding manbeast in the next. He can be proper and sophisticated to the outside world, and he can forget about all "morals" and "rules" of society when he gives himself with complete abandon to new experiences and experiments.

I have never loved and craved a man like I do him. He is the most wonderful man I have ever met - despite all the fighting and arguing that is going on between us all the time. It's just another sign of the intensity of our relationship. And he certainly is the most handsome man I ever got to lay my hands on. He is tall... 6'1"... with raven black shiny hair which he keeps nice and short and which stands off his head in all directions in a peppy way. His eyes, framed by long and thick black lashes are dark as the night and burning with life and passion from deeply within. He has thick and beautiful sensual lips, which can form into the most beautiful and charming warm smile, and his jaw is wide and angular, just like a man's is supposed to be like. He sports a boheme little chin beard, more like a "landing strip", which shines in all possible colors from raven black to red to blonde. He is wide framed, not at all scrawny for a man his size, and he is has the most beautiful artist's hands I have ever seen on a man: large palms, long and eloquent fingers, perfectly shaped and well-kept nails. My already quite large hands can disappear in his, and he knows so well what to do with them. He has an excellent taste in clothing somewhere between stylish-chic and skater-punk, and his choice of pants makes me want to grab his delicious Latino ass and squeeze it every time I see it. Women turn their heads wherever he shows up, and he got his ass grabbed right in front of me more times than I can count by now. I am not the only one reacting to his handsome face and imposing frame the way I do... I see the looks we get from women out on the streets all the time. And I am the one who gets to take him home with me, who gets to feel his lips on me, the caress of his hands... his whispered "I love you"s. He can go on and on and on for hours, and have multiple orgasms that would put an experienced woman to shame. (And certainly every man we have so far shared our love life with.) He is not jealous, and very adventurous, thus allowing for the kind of exciting sex life that we currently enjoy. He makes me the happiest and most satisfied woman on this planet, and I cannot wait to become his wife, share his last name, become legally one with him.

What brought this on? I am not sure. He sure deserves it. I love him. But I guess it was because I was listening to a Tom Leykis podcast today in which - again - it was all about the conflict between men and women, and how they just can't get along, and never have satisfying and lasting healthy relationships with each other. It made me think, it made me look at all the relationships around me, the boredom that is so obviously seeping out of every pore of them, the routine, the trheat of cheating or leaving each other for someone else dangerously looming above them wherever I look. I look at that, at these people, and can't help but feel that I have won the lottery with my husband-to-be. Our relationship is loving, stable, on a wonderful emotional level. There is no danger of cheating, because we allow each other all the excitement we would want or need, and live it out in the open. I find comfort in the thought that he will not sneak around me to satisfy some momentary need for someone else behind my back, because he is free to bring her into our relationship and use her to his liking along with me. He is not sexually repressed, and he doesn't have to live with a paranoid woman who throws a tantrum if he as much as turns his head after another person, or dares to mention a hot ass in front of her, or looks at boobs on the internet. He moves with the confidence of a man who knows that he can get whatever he wants, and that confidence makes him all the more attractive to me.

I believe it's close to impossible to find a person who shares your views on such aspects of life so 100% as he does with me. It's close to impossible to find a person who not only shares your views and opinions with you, but is also so stunningly handsome, arrograntly charming, extremely self-confident, incredibly good in bed, open to everything you throw at him, and combines artistic talent with awesome style and taste, and brains to match my own.

It's close to impossible... but I have found it all. I must have led a pretty damn good past life, in order to be rewarded like that in this one. I am the most satisfied and happy woman on this planet, for I have truly found that one person that I was meant to be with.

When I came back to Europe, I could not listen to any one of our songs for months. When I tried I always ended up crying hard and falling back into another swing of depression where I pitied myself and my heart crushed and crumbled beneath the weight of my homesickness for the country that has hosted me for 3 1/2 years. Once I tortured myself by listening our radio appearance, and ended up a hysterically crying bundle on my desk in the friggin' office. The feeling of loss, the feeling of having given up on the only thing I ever was so passionate about, the feeling of having cheated myself out of the life I so desperately wanted to lead for reasons that then seemed so shady and more like excuses to me, was too much to bear.

It took about half a year for me to be able to listen to us, and not start crying. I would always feel this incredible sadness and I would always retrieve into melancholy afterwards, but at least I was able to keep myself together. I also intiated contact and talk with Roomie#R again and we got some things out in the open and out of our systems pertaining to the band, and I started to feel better after that. Hard feelings, however, are still present for Roomie#R and Mr. E haven't even found it within themselves to meet while Mr. E was out in LA for a vacation a couple of months back. Roomie#R, of course, feels cheated: I left to pursue my own life and whatever I felt I needed to do with it, and Mr. E and off to get married after he said there is potential for him to go back if things didn't work out for whatever reason. Roomie#R is upset and hurt. Understandably so. I guess the more passionate you are about something, and the more deeply you feel about something, the harder it becomes to reconcile later on if something happens like what happened to us and our dream of the life as musicians.

There was so much there between all of us, so much love and so much passion, such devotion for our music and our goals, I cannot put it in words properly at all. We truly were a family then, we had a very strong bond between all of us. It was us against the rest of the world, and we were set to conquer it, at whatever cost. We were professional in our dealings with the local music scene, and we were professionals dealing with each other - at least the second we picked up our instruments and played. No matter what may have happened privately: sometimes we were so entangled in fights and arguments and attitudes and ego problems that we wouldn't talk a single word to each other and all take separate cars to our shows... but the second we were on stage, for the duration of our show, it was as if nothing ever happened. The music was a pressure valve for our private lives, and we connected more deeply over it than I ever had the honor to experience before with anybody else.

So the hurt and the anger and the sadness and the melancholy and the constant thoughts of "what if" are quite understandable.

That said... once Mr. E and I were here in Europe, we avoided all talk of our band at all costs. When his car stereo started to play our CD on randomize he would immediately switch it off and put in something else. When I cautiously asked him what his plans were musically here in Europe, he always avoided answering me or was very ambiguous about it.

Fast forward to a couple of weeks ago. The Fiancé has made acquaintance with the owner of a Mexican bar here in the city, whose best friend is an American born and raised in Los Angeles. He is also a guitarist with big plans of building a large and versatile house band for this Mexican bar, with musicians of all genres available for different nights. It is a project very different to ours in LA. The Fiancé has hooked the guitarist up with Mr. E, and through the way that Mr. E was talking about me, he managed to get the guitarist interested, and so I was invited as well. I guess Mr. E tried hard to keep me out of this without openly saying so, and his reasoning and his way of talking about me made the guitarist see how much emotion there must be involved between Mr. E and I, and how this can only be beneficial for the music. Plus: why break up an existing drums-bass combo if he has one right in his face?

So I went there last Sunday, my bass in tow. Apprehensive. Not sure what to expect. I had practiced some of the cover songs I was told to practice, but I wasn't prepared when soon the guitarist put our CD into the stereo. He has had a copy for a few weeks, but hadn't listened to it yet. I guess the time was right for it then, for Mr. E and I heard it... and without THINKING about it, we started to play along with our own CD.

It almost tore out my heart it was so intense. There we were again... after almost a year of not playing together and avoiding all talk of the band altogether... him on the drums, me on the bass. Flawlessly, as if no time had passed. I hadn't practiced any of our songs, and I watched my own fingers with astonishment as they found their places on the strings and frets automatically, almost magically, as if they wouldn't have been inactive for a year in the first place, as if Mr. E and I had just played together last week.

I had to turn away for a while and compose myself, blink away the wetness that I felt collecting in my eyes as I played. When I closed them it wasn't the guitarist trying to play along with our songs from listening to them, but it was Roomie#R who was there with us. It wasn't his voice being played back from our recording, but it was him for real, and when I squeezed my eyes shut hard enough, and wished just hard enough, I could make it all come true... I would still be in LA, I would have never left, none of this would ever have happened. I would be able to open my eyes and see Roomie#R standing there opposite of me, he would wink at me, and together we would sing... la vida sigue nunca igual... and it would all be just as it was.

Of course... I had to open my eyes sooner or later and face reality. Roomie#R's absence was a huge gaping and oozing wound, but at least it was Mr. E sitting there on that drumset... and once or twice he even looked up at me and smiled that smile that back in the old days would make my heart leap with joy and love and excitement for and over the people around me, and the music we played together. Once or twice he also looked at me with no smile on his face, and I would look back, for a while, and I felt like those looks were just a reflection of my own feelings. The melancholy, the loss, the sadness, the hurt. Roomie#R's absence. Even The Fiancé, who watched from the sidelines, was leaning back, quietly, eyes closed for a while, and I could see that he too was imagining he was at another time, at another place.

The Guitarist went through most of our songs in such a manner, and Mr. E and I would play along for at least parts of each song. I could see the excitement rising in The Guitarist's face, who, up until now, had only thought of playing cover songs in the Mexican bar. Classic Rock. Led Zeppelin, Van Halen, The Doors. Now suddenly he was faced with a complete set of original Spanish Rock and the musicians to play it, and when he was done listening to us and our songs, he wanted to know if it would be okay with us to maybe play our set on stage, too. He liked it, he was sure the people would like it too. He would learn the guitar parts... and well, we'd just have to get another frontman.

I cringed at that. Who would replace Roomie#R? Who would be worthy of such a thing? To be the heart and soul of our stage performance, nobody could do a better job than him. Nobody would just barge in and take the spot that belongs to somebody else. Roomie#R and his talent to handle crowds was what made our shows, and the appeal of them. I didn't think Mr. E would agree, so I was all the more surprised when I heard him say that this would be cool. As long as we made no money off of it, wouldn't use our old name, and if we did any recordings or broadcastings we'd have to get Roomie#R's permission. My jaw just about dropped... and I thought about how hurt Roomie#R would be over this, but then I remembered how he once said to me that all he wants is for our music to be heard, no matter how. Now I find myself rather ambiguous towards the thought, I am not sure if I should be ecstatic that I will get to play with my brother-in-law on stage again, and play the music that created that bond with us in the first place, to relive memories, and to expose our music to a different audience, or if I should feel horrible about it. It is like cheating on Roomie#R, it is like trivializing his dream, lessening what our band was to us and what it meant to us. Dumping him, leaving him, crushing his dream, moving on without him. Of course it's not the same, it's not following the same goals, it's not even working under the same name. It's like covering ourselves, no more than that.

The mood on our way home from practice was solemn. We discussed this through, we talked about it. For the first time since we are here we actually talked about it, and it felt good. I felt again like I could relate to my brother-in-law on something personal, like again we could share something fun together, like we were overcoming some of the barriers that are now between us and finding ourselves starting over with a clean slate. It was like having him back the way it was before the move, before the anger, before the hurt, before the wedding, before becoming so submerged into life here that left almost no room for who and what I was before. It was like awakening from hibernation, like being finally able to shed those dusty layers of European life that I have allowed to put themselves all over me since I am back, and to regain some of what I was before.

Last night I told my best friend K that I feel like I managed to find the closest thing to what I loved so much about LA here in my hometown, when I never thought that it existed here at all. And it is true. This is not Los Angeles, not even close to it... but I am surrounded by some of the people I loved most over there, they are here with me, and we are picking up some of the shards and are putting them back together. Into a different shape, of course, but together nonetheless. And even though it does not diminish my incredible homesickness for California, at least it makes me feel alright being where I am.

It's not where you are... it's who you are with and what you can make of it together. These words have never rung truer before.

Well, first of all The Fiancé and I got into a little argument and were a bit pissed at each other... then I didn't feel like having sex anyway... and in the end we decided not to bring along any condoms at all. If I would change my mind, I was sure there'd always be some at the place available - it was "that kinda place", afterall.

And some kind of place really was. Small intimate bar, held mostly in red and with dim red lights, and naked greek female statues placed in alcoves all over the place. Despite the kind of place it was, it had a very homey feel to it, so I strolled on off into the back, to check whatever else was hiding back there. There were several separate seating lounges with large screens showing porn movies without it making a sleazy impression at all. Of course there were also several "bedrooms" (meaning rooms that consist of nothing but one huge mattress, a TV running porn, and a large mirror at the side walls), and one small S&M dungeon. The entrance to the place was very discreet, almost inconspicuous, lacking all kinds of flashy lights and announcements of what this place was. There was a doorbell to be rung instead of a door just to be pushed open, and when I saw that I immediately imagined how, after we would ring the doorbell, a small sliding window would quickly open, revealing nothing but a pair of eyes on a sweaty and puffy face, demanding we recite the secret password. I felt dirty just looking at that entrance, and just when I started to think going there may not have been such a good idea afterall, Bud had already pushed the button on the doorbell, and we were let in with a low buzz.

I had a quick flash of how we were entering a bordello, only I was the whore, and I wasn't gonna get paid for my services. I shuddered and quickly pushed the thought out of my mind. I was with my future husband, after all, and a very gentleman-like man who has made no inappropriate move on me so far - and we were here because I wanted to be here just as much as my two companions did.

We were the first ones in the place, and remained the only ones for a while. But none of us cared about that, for we were not there to meet new people anyway. Bud flirted a bit with the girl tending the bar (whom I would not have minded joining us for one second - though she said fun during her working hours were out of the question, lol). The atmosphere was relaxed enough, it was the neutral ground that we wanted to meet at, and I didn't feel any pressure to do anything coming from any part of our trio. And maybe that's exactly why we soon ended up in one of those private lounging areas and started to play around a little tiny bit.

Sure it was a bit awkward when suddenly that cute-as-hell bartender girl came in to change the DVD and I was sprawled out on the couch barebreasted with two guys latched on to me one on each side... but it was such a matter-of-factly thing that I just returned her knowing smile and leaned back into the couch as if this was the most normal thing imaginable.

Then... what happened next in one of the "bedrooms" we soon after ended up in I will refrain from describing here out of consideration for some of my friends who I have given this link to and who I know read this more or less regularly. There is only so much you may wanna know about your friends, and I don't want to make anybody feel uncomfortable around me. But I will say that what happened was so much better than our first "try-out" with my friend Steven, much more playful, much more intuitive, much less technical. I completely forgot about time passing, I forgot where I was, and everything around me. I was completely submerged in what was happening, it wasn't at all like our experience with Steven where I felt I was the main protagonist in a sleazy sex-ed movie. Bud was very courteous, very gentle, very playful and teasing. Many of the things I have until now only been dreaming of pertaining to The Fiancé became reality, and now turned from desperate fantasies to exciting memories that make me blush everytime they spring back to my mind - which they do often now.

We left eventually and got home way past midnight - and naturally I was so wired up and out of my mind from what had just happened, that I had a hard time falling asleep, and staying asleep. I think The Fiancé was having a similar problem for he kept tossing and turning as well, but we were holding on to each other tightly and lovingly all night long - or what was left of it, anyway. I didn't want to leave him this morning, so strong was my urge to be with him and be held by him, and make love to him in the wake of our memories of last night, but I had to go and be responsible. This day has been dragging on endlessly already, and I am having a hard time staying awake and not falling over forehead-first onto my graphics tablet.

I am having this strong urge to write down every single nasty and naughty dirty detail of last night, but see that this is not the appropriate location to do so - especially for the people who know me personally. I am toying with the thought of joining the ranks of those who submit stories to nifty.org, just to get it out of my system the only way I know how: by writing about it. I guess that's the exhibitionist in me... so if you do NOT know me personally, I may give out that link to you once it's done.

Life's fun right now... in any way imaginable (and on more fronts than our sex-life too but this has nothing to do with the point of this blog), and for certain I have never imagined that my boring ol' hometown which I dreaded so much coming home to could be all that with some frosting on the cake.

...since Easter is upon us, no?

Gosh, I can't even remember when I last "celebrated" Easter, and that's to say that even when I did "celebrate" it consisted of nothing more than go look for eggs and chocolate and candy that my parents or grandparents had hidden, and then to pig out on that, and on the copious lunches that were served later.

One good Catholic little girl I am, am I not? *grins*

Ah, but since I went non-denominational last month, who gives a fuck. (Not that I ever did before, either.) Still... this wonderful Catholic celebration of the Undead gifts me with a long weekend: an extra day off, and I shall thank any institution in the world that allows me to work less and get paid the same. Yay for legally recognized Catholic holidays.

So thank you, Jeebus, for going all necromantic on the world and giving me my Monday off.

A Monday which, I might add, I may just spend as Catholic as I possibly can, with all the sodomy that'll hopefully be involved. That is, if Bud decides to leave Germany a day earlier as he planned... which is still all out in the open.

Again with the potential.

But as they say... anticipation is the best kind of excitement, and that I am full of as others may be of the holy spirit. So I'll finish this entry with a heartfelt HAPPY EASTER, and may the Easterbunny hump on happily ever after!

In an attempt to distract myself of today's episode of drama, let me get back to talking about Bud. Well, writing, that is. Writing is therapeutical for me, getting it out there is helping me sort my thoughts and expectations. And, after all, it is still bisexuality related, what does it matter if it's not about mine but The Fiancé's? Overall it's a development phase into a lifestyle that we both find appealing, and as such it is true to this blog's overall theme: coming to terms and coming out.

As a matter of fact I am growing bolder and bolder when it comes to talking about what we do, even knowing that I do shock and/or disgust people with it. Case in point: I told my best friend K tonight about our acquaintance with Bud, and where it's headed. She asked me if I was intent on turning this into a "lifestyle" as opposed to a "one-time-experience", and the other end of the connection was silent for a bit when I affirmed this. I think any kind of alternative living and way of looking at things that are taboo fpr most others is shocking and fascinating to them at the same time, for even though I could hear how disgusted she was at my "promiscuity", she also could not stop herself from asking me questions about it. I do have to say that I enjoy the "shock" factor to a certain degree, but I do have reservations about letting most people I know into what we are doing. My family... most friends... and it's a fun thought to envision our wedding in a few months with Bug as a guest, and sharing in a little dirty secret that everybody else is completeley clueless about - but that's just a little thought at the side.

As far as our acquaintance goes... let me tell you that him and I are getting rather acquainted with each other - at least verbally speaking. Somehow yesterday's email conversation at work took a rather exciting turn, and the next thing I know he's talking about fantasies he's been having about us, and suggestions, and thoughts... getting me so incredibly horny that I had to literally rape my poor sick Fiancé by the time I came home from work, sharing with him all the naughty details. Yet, at the same time, there is more to these conversations, there is respectful mind-probing and gentle approaching, talk of dos and don'ts, experiences, fantasies and wishes. It's taking away a lot of my nervousness of our first "encounter", and what I like most about these emails is that in no way do I feel like there is something going on behind The Fiancé's back, like Bud is just trying to get at me and hit at me and try to bypass my partner. On the contrary, all his thoughts include The Fiancé as well, and on more than one occasion has he mentioned the respect he has for us as a union, and how he will hold himself in the background, so as to not "break into" anything and cause problems.

From his writing and from what we have seen in him IRL so far, I dare to hope that our sex will be fun and experimental and free of pressures or performance issues, or any sort of awkward technicalities the way our experience was like with Steven. I also dare to hope that we will develop a good friendship beyond the bedroom, because we do get along nicely and seem to be on very much the same wavelength in many regards. I hope for nothing more than an uncomplicated fun friendship outside the normalcy of society. And so far it seems like Bud is quite exactly what we've been looking for in this regard...

The worst part was the humiliation. It was facing that doctor and letting him tell me about the proper way of contraception, as if I wouldn't know it. It was having to endure his looking at me with this expression when I told him why hormonal contraception was not for me, and why I stopped taking it for my own mental sanity. It was having seen our conscious and thought-through decision to not use hormones anymore stomped to the ground with a look and a lecture that a 14-year-old who's new to sex should hear. It was this being treated as a reckless lunatic lacking all responsibility. That, and them having made me wait in the hospital for 2 hours, when I was the first one in before all those other women that were called before me, for the writing of a prescription that took no longer than 3 minutes.

It was having been made felt like a criminal and disregarded as yet another one of those thoughtless and irresponsible women that regard the morning after pill as yet another method of contraception instead of the emergency tool it really is.

Nobody took into consideration that what had happened can happen to the most responsible people that rely on condoms, nobody asked if I had ever taken this pill before, nobody offered me any help regarding alternatives. Nobody cared that I was, in fact, engaged to be married, and very willing to have children - and it is that wish that made me go to the hospital this morning: to be responsible, to do what's right, to not recklessly risk bringing a child into this world that I will at this point be incapable to care properly for.

Nobody cared that, in fact, this feels like an abortion to me - despite the fact that a few hours after the accident I am not even pregnant yet, and despite the fact that I don't even KNOW if his seed really would have taken root inside me at this time, or not.

For all of The Fiancé's reassuring me that it's the right thing, I feel like I am killing off potential before it even got its chance to grow. I feel like I am messing with what's "supposed to be", and that I am not living by my own credo of "be responsible and accept the consequences of your actions". I did not ask for this accident, I did not hope for it, I certainly did not want to become pregnant before we both feel that the time is right for it... but at the same time I always preached that if anything should happen, I ought to accept the consequences and deal with it. And now I am not. There is a morning after pill waiting for me to swallow it at home... and the more I think about it and the potential possibilities happening inside my body as I type, the more apprehensive I get.

I just keep telling myself... it's not abortion cause there is nothing to abort... it's just a chemical bomb to keep a possibly fertilized egg from implanting itself and starting to grow... there is nothing there I could possibly kill yet. It's just being responsible towards myself and The Fiancé and the life we are working so hard on to live.

I just wish it wouldn't feel so terribly wrong........ :(

As it stands, the suggestion is to go have a drink at what I would like to call a "swinger's bar" in the city. It isn't really a swinger's club, but more like a regular bar catering to a specific target demographic, offering separées in the back for the ones of jolly spirit. There are no naked people running around, no people in lingerie lounging on lazy boys waiting to get laid... just a place for open-minded people to gather and mingle and have fun if they so desire.

I never thought I'd be part of the specific target demographic that such a place is catering to, and I feel sleazy just thinking about it. On the other hand Bud seems to feel a certain tightness in his pants when he thinks about the possibilities in such a place (or so he said in his last email), and The Fiancé seems to have a pretty clear idea about the things that shall happen next week as well, so who am I to have sudden twitches of morality and decency. I've come this far, I may as well finish it and take the last step out of normalcy and enjoy it as I do so. Who cares what others may think.

I've always felt apart from the norm ever since I can remember, it just seems appropriate to try out a lifestyle that most others would frown upon at best, and condemn me to hell for at worst, and seal the deal.

I am looking forward to Tuesday. And whatever happens... this time I'll make sure that it's not such a technical and short-lived thing as it was with Steven. This time I want to actually enjoy it beyond the naughty excitement of HOLYSHITIAMHAVINGATHREESOME, if you know what I mean.

"Why would one exlcude 50% of the world's potential partners just because they happen to be of one's same sex?" - Bud.

"What does it matter when I'm having fun if it's a cock or a pussy that happens to be in my mouth...it's all about enjoying oneself..." - Bud.

Seriously, people? If I would have responded to The Fiancé's gentle attempts, I would have gotten so gloriously laid last night, and so would have he. Instead I decided it was time for us to leave and go home around midnight, and it wasn't because I felt uncomfortable or weird. On the contrary. We had a really, really nice and involved evening. Bud cooked for us, we chatted, and soon retreated to his sofa to chat some more. There was no pressure to do things from his part, and he behaved very courteously and respectfully, considering our status as a couple. Of course we talked about sex a lot, and he wasn't too shy to slowly approach me - "accidentally" at first, and when he saw that it was okay a little bit more boldly - with his legs. When he and The Fiancé talked about about gay sex experiences a bit, I could barely ignore the throbbing between my legs anymore, and was almost ready right then and there.

I noticed that The Fiancé very much played with the thought as well, for as the evening progressed he very much tried to pull me over and help things along a bit by making out with me, but I resisted. I don't usually go sleep with people on the second date, so I saw no reason to do it this time, either. I very much enjoyed the tension and the anticipation of the unknown, and saw no reason to cut this phase short - especially since I felt no pressure coming from Bud's side either. He was just rather smooth, sitting back in his lazy boy, talking, keeping on "accidentally" touching my legs, visibly enjoying himself as well. He managed to set a rather nice atmosphere, with candles, wine, mojitos, and good music, and I felt very much as if we have found what we have been looking for in this regard: an intelligent, interesting, handsome person who is not desperate for a quick lay and knows how to enjoy the game as it plays out in all its facettes.

We left eventually and drove back home, all the while knowing what would have happened, had I decided to stay.

I didn't get to sleep for a quite long time thereafter, as you can probably imagine.

My day so far has been dragging on, made possible by rather large amounts of strong espresso - and that after I promised my boss to put in some major overtime today. I should have known better... maybe in the end I would have gotten more sleep, had we just spent the night out instead of driving the 15 miles back home horny as two oversexed teenage monkeys in heat.

We will meet again next Tuesday... again with the weekdays, I foresee yet another long and hard Wednesday with liters of coffee in the office... *sheepish grin*

Feeling a pang of excitement. Bud called me on Friday, basically just because, and we bullshitted around for a little bit, which was fun. Today we emailed and talked again, he immediately apologized that he just called me as opposed to The Fiancé, but blamed it on the English and that he feels better on the phone speaking German. We talked about his injured dog, his vet appointment, our wedding plans, what we do and don't like to eat. Tomorrow he invited us over for dinner. He was very pleasant, funny, and we are both feeling positive about this so far. Updates pending...