June 16, 2010

SKYE BLUE

Way back in February I went out to brunch with Max and Sam, and as always happens when we get together the topic of conversation ended up being primarily about sex.  Well, on this particular day the focus of our discussion was the lack of action in my life.

‘You need to get horizontal with someone soon. I mean how long has it since you got some? ’ Sam asked, after I lamented the fact that my field hadn’t been ploughed in a long time.

Max seconded his opinion, stating, ‘You’ve got needs girl, just find a man who wants to help you take care of them.’

While the discussion ensued I didn’t let on that they were making me think long and hard about all that I was missing, or that all the sex talk had my now percolating coochy telling me,

‘Girl, hurry up and find us some dick.  The tumbleweeds blowin’ up in here are killing me.’

But as we left the restaurant that day I knew something had to give.

Luckily, I am nothing if not efficient. Within 24 hours of parting ways with  Mr. Sharpe and Ms. Max I had found a perfect candidate to practice with – enter Afternoon Delight. Now, Afternoon Delight lived a few blocks away from me; didn’t move in my social circle; was self-employed and had a flexible schedule (meaning he had time to fuck during the day – hence the moniker); wasn’t somebody I would ever want to date (for a host of reasons I won’t get into here), but was attractive for me to get down with; and was totally into doing me (I knew this because of a full court press he had run on me a few months prior). So when I called him that same night and asked, “Is the offer you made a few months ago still on the table?”, Afternoon Delight quickly pinned me down to a ‘meeting’ two days later.

Now people, when Afternoon Delight and I finally ‘connected’ it was beyond sublime.  We enjoyed ourselves so much the first time, we ended up hooking up five more times that week, once twice in the same day. Afternoon Delight laid pipe like nobody’s business and I was happy to be his for the taking.

As a direct result of my midday romps with him, I had sex on the brain all the time over the following weeks and I blew up his phone daily with texts asking when we could hook up again. Generally, unless work obligations didn’t permit Afternoon Delight always accomodated me. People, I had my very own dial-a-dick. I was  living the mutha f’in dream.

For a while there things were going real good. My coochy was singing my praises and Afternoon Delight was positively ecstatic every time we got together. But as we all know, all good things come to an end. And the end came for us one night after he turned me out in grand style.

I don’t know what it was about how we connected the last time we were together, but the shit was so good I got positively stupid.  In the middle of what was an extraordinarily fantastic diddle ( my coochy was stompin’, shoutin’ and AMEN-ing like she was in church) I started envisioning my future with Afternoon Delight. I saw our wedding on a beach under a clear blue Caribbean sky, our beautiful sepia babies taking their first steps and a house with a white picket fence to boot. That’s right folks, Afternoon Delight, the man whom I had specifically chosen because I knew I’d NEVER want him for anything other than his dick, put it on me so good that I started dreaming about settling down with him.

What. The. Fuck?

Needless to say I was shook. Within minutes of our final and very mutual happy ending, I was out the door and on my way home.  Once I was safely inside my apartment I sat down on my couch to process what I was feeling.  “Do you actually REALLY like and want to be with Afternoon Delight?” I asked myself. The answer, a resounding NO, came swiftly. So what was my mid-sex reverie about?  Well, as far as I can tell, all the other-worldly stroking Afternoon Delight put on me that afternoon brought up my long suppressed instincts to nest and multiply (who knew?).

Thankfully, once I made that connection my sanity kicked back in and started shouting,

“SKYE, BACK AWAY FROM THAT COCK! ABORT MISSION! BACK AWAY FROM THAT COCK!!”

and then quickly propelled me into action.  Before I knew it I was off my couch and at my desk firing off a Dear John email to Afternoon Delight that read something like this…

Afternoon Delight,

As much as I’ve enjoyed each and every one of our mid-day sex sessions and I know that my coochy is going to kick my ass for doing this, I have to call it quits.  While you were putting it on me this afternoon I was picturing our wedding day and hearing the first cries of our newborn child – ridiculous, I know! As the visions that were swirling through my brain as we communed today are not what either of us signed up for when we agreed to ‘practice’ together, I think it’s best that from here on out I keep my sweet-dick-induced brand of crazy away from you.

I hope you understand,

Skye

His response came through later that evening…

Skye,

As much as I’m going to miss ‘practicing’ with you (still can’t believe we had sex almost every day for the last month) I appreciate the fact that you recognize your limits and that you’re pulling out before things get messy.

Hoping we’ll catch up again in the future,

Afternoon Delight

.

Hoping indeed. People, as much as I’d love to ride his cosmic cock again (all praises due to his magic stick) there’s not a chance in hell that I’ll ever go there again with that man. This clear-thinking chick has officially learned her lesson about the powers of good pipe layin’.  As Sam alluded to in Monday’s post, just a few good down strokes from the right cocksman – even if you’ve decided he’s not boyfriend/husband material – can turn virtually any woman (even a sane one) into a rock-coveting-baby-crazed-wannabe-nester. And I’m so not going out like that.

You heard it here first folks. Skye Blue, will NEVER EVER allow herself to descend into the depths of madness for some extra good wood and a smile. I pride myself on knowing my limits and knowing when to back away from a (super) cock.

Fact.

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