I've been feeling like a predator going through my 1/3 life crisis
I've always looked at men with perverted eyes
I take an incredible pleasure from observing them
I can feel their grips and how their hands run through a woman's body
I can picture their smile when in love
and all the tenderness flashing out of their lingering eyes
I can feel their pain and happiness
Their cries of broken heart or broken dreams
I can see the child in them, and also the tiger within
I imagine how they whisper when making love
Their hoarse voices in the morning
I watch their calves going up and down the streets
Their forearms holding tight to steering wheels
I picture them naked
I imagine them jerking off in their dark bedrooms, living rooms, showers
I think about what kind of horny thoughts trigger their minds
How their bodies shiver when they cum
I love men and their details
I can now tell from far the thrivers from the complainers
Those who shut down when hurt
Those who go right back into their teenager fighting tools
Those who use their sorrows as character builders
I can smell their methods from miles away
But I've been arrogant in my wisdom
I may soon get broken in
from the high I'm getting off this pseudo knowledge
And this is where my 1/3 life crisis begins
I want to eat and be eaten by them
I want to explore and discover men like promise lands
I want to possess and be possessed
And all that sounds great
Problem is that age and, consequently, experience (blah)
Has brought this extremely high standard
As if there were no men perfect enough for my imperfections
He's not smart enough
He's not handsome enough
He doesn't like his job
He's not creative
He's too artsy
He doesn't have a twisted sense of humor
He jokes too much
He's too proper
He is not philosophical enough
He's too trashy
He's too trendy
He dresses badly
He's too metro
He's not cultured enough
He's a snob
He's not sexual enough
His kiss is not my kind
He's too sloppy
He's not bad ass enough
He's just a bad ass and nothing more
He's not affectionate
He's too into me
He's not into me enough
There’s always a red flag to be found not allowing me to fall enough to at least get some ass out of it, I mean dick. It's been almost a year or so since I’ve had fallen for one, and it's not like I'm looking for a boyfriend, or maybe I am and I'm just too cynical to accept my own romanticism.
Paul has warned me, I still insist on acting on a mindset that no longer matches my level of maturity. I keep denying I’ve grown up. I try to fool my brain, but my body stops me. I don't even get wet anymore, and, I mean, I'm attracted to the men I go out on dates, but not enough to take it to the next level.
I went on a road trip full of porn fantasies excited to turn my masturbation dreams into action. There he was, hot and available, eager to jump all over me. I couldn't even get a hard on, and by that I mean myself. He, on the other hand, stayed hard all weekend. I didn't even try, one thing there is no way I can do is the charity fuck (not anymore).
I got back from the road trip not only hornier, but with frustration added to the hot pot. So what now, am I waiting for the right guy, even if just thinking about this kind of bourgeois mentality makes me puke a bit in my mouth? Am I the suburban princess with marriage dreams? Have I been brainwashed?
I got a fuck buddy. A man who serves me whenever I feel the need. He's as hot as it gets, lives nearby, one call away. In fact, I heard something about him the other day that made him even hotter — apparently, every vanity girl in the industry has been trying to get under his pants, so far, no one has won the trophy. I’m secretly the lucky one, although I treat him solely as the obscure object of my desire. Yes, yes, I must admit, I considered him for the boyfriend post for a second, but he was quickly demoted to the boytoy level since I’d given him a chance and he didn't managed it well.
Back to fuck buddy basis: he walks in the door with entrée and dessert. We drink wine at my little dinner table and laugh under dim lights. He washes the dishes and immediately gets naked in one smooth move, all his clothing falling off in a matter of seconds. I find it endearing. He stands bare in my living room with a bright smile and emerald eyes full of tenderness. It makes me love him for the time being. I take him by the hand and lead him to the slaughterhouse. We spoon and watch a few episodes of Family Guy. making out while still paying attention to the TV show, long kisses interrupted by laughter. We eventually get lost in our bodies, turn off the TV and fuck for a while. It used to take longer. He couldn't cum for a while We eventually figured out that Planned Parenthood condoms sucked, with the new upgraded Whole Foods Japanese condoms we are done in half hour or so.
I used to have more fun with him, it's now finally getting old. His ripped body has been looking dull to my predator eyes, his smile doesn't soften me as much anymore. I guess, back when I considered him as a potential boyfriend it had more to it. I used to feel a buzz around him, now it's just a hard dick who kisses really well and comes with a smoking body, a delicious laughter too, he does have a very sweet child-like streak. See, when I put down on paper, he's great, everything I could ask for, but I just don't get the thrill from him anymore.
We used to spoon, but lately I've been only forking him.
