Posts Tagged ‘wet dreams’

h1

My cheating heart

September 21, 2010

Mlle. Hovary is lonely and driven to blog about it.  Please extend a warm welcome back.  The prodigal daughter returns.  Why?

I’m in love with this guy who isn’t my boyfriend.

I have sexy dreams about him in a way that does not happen with boyfriend.  The other night I dreamed I was going to jog past him wearing nothing but a tshirt and underwear.  As I got closer, I had second thoughts and wheeled around so maybe he wouldn’t notice.  But there he was, and he waved to me.  I waved back, tried to act casual, and jogged home.  I hoped he was watching me as I ran past.

In another dream, we cut right to the chase.  I kissed him and melted a little on the inside.  We took off our clothes and fucked.  He was seated and I climbed on top of him.  It was awkward, and the lights may have been on.  It probably wasn’t that good – no foreplay.  I just wanted him, bad.

He is nice, smart, shares my politics, has cool hobbies, volunteers with me, blogs intelligently, and is tall and cute in a geeky way.  And, most importantly, he is also in a long-term committed relationship.

Fuck me.

I wish he had some gaping character flaw so I’d know any relationship we had would be doomed.  Aside from any unrequited affections on his part.  Maybe he doesn’t put out.   I’d probably be unhappy even if I managed to steal him from his lady friend.  Fantasy is by definition unattainable, and the object loses its appeal if you succeed in attaining it.  The Life of David Gale taught me that.

Maybe a little fantasy is helpful.  Keeps the old juices flowing.  I was never especially creative in grade school, but boy do I have a good imagination when it comes to lusting after men who aren’t interested in me.

When I was on the rebound from dating a douchebag a few years ago, it seemed like a great idea to date The Nice Guy.  I think I made the safe choice.  Boyfriend is very sweet and would be an excellent partner if I wanted to get married and squeeze out kids. 

But I also want someone who won’t want to keep his hands off me, who can’t wait to get me home at the end of the night. I know I need to step up my game and slut it up to make things easier, but it is exhausting. Not everyone is as effortlessly stunning as Mlle. Nottibits always is. There is also nothing worse than getting all dressed up, so to speak, with nowhere to go.

I am tired of making responsible adult choices.  Perhaps it would be wrong to swing over to self-destructive choices, but they sure look attractive. I am grasping at any romantic straw to feel like sex and romance are not a farce.

What to do? All suggestions are welcome.

h1

The Blonde of My Dreams

April 8, 2009

Sometimes I have these startlingly erotic dreams that interject my regular flow of boring or just plain confusing dreams. For the most part my dreams aren’t memorable enough to survive waking and the ones that are just so superior in What-the-fuckness that they linger for days. As far as the erotic ones, the wtf element that serves as a constant in every single one since puberty has been a petite-ish nude woman with shoulder-length blonde hair.

The very first dream I had of her was the first ever sexual dream I ever had – she was laying in the middle of a white, featureless room in a very deep sleep. I straddled her waist and ran my fingers over the skin along her sides and breasts until she woke up, parted her lips and sighed as if she were still dreaming. I kept skimming my fingers over her in an exploratory sort of way and at the same time became increasingly overwhelmed and aroused. I woke up and lay in bed for a couple hours, staring at the ceiling wondering what the fuck that dream was really about.

Another memorable dream I had of her was during a sex party where she was the hostess clad in a slinky silky silver robe and slip outfit. I spent the entirety of the dream sifting through naked couples and dark rooms draped in red fabrics looking for her – she was always just leaving when I arrived in a particular room. Of course, when I finally caught her, I woke up.

The latest dream had her as mischievous headmistress type showing me a room of leatherbound books and impact toys. she wanted my help writing and illustrating a book that highlighted each of her tools. To ensure the validity of the content, she insisted on trying each of the toys on me. I agreed but sat down first to start drawing the cover…she stood behind me with her hands on my shoulders and bare breasts pressed against my….woke up.

The others I’ve had usually feature her as an extra or some sinister character. I’m not really sure what to make of them but they keep my nightlife interesting.

h1

back in the ussr

August 4, 2008

i went a full week without getting laid, and apparently this really fucks with my head.

part of it is traveling.  i get mopey on the road, and when i’m bored i think of sex.

part of it was the beautiful men in new york.

part of it was catching a clip of american psycho, where christian bale screws two prostitutes and that guy’s fiance.  i found this really erotic and glamourous, mostly because i was so starved for sex.  i don’t mind a little sex and violence, but this was a bit unusual, even for me.

part of it was the cute stranger in whose bed i slept.  i kinda hoped he’d come in and ask vera and i to fuck him, but he spent the night on his couch.

but probably the most jarring thing was my dreams.  in two nights i dreamt about making out with two different guys, none of whom i am currently dating.

in the second dream, i started to make out with bf, but then it turned out to be my ex.  i didn’t really care.

i was really turned on and started to cum.  it felt really good til i woke up and remembered my friend was sleeping six feet away.

background: it’s rumored he has been in love with me the last five years.  i don’t think the two months in afghanistan helped.  so that was exceedingly awkward, and borderline disturbing.

the last time my dreams were this sexual was last winter, when i went home for a couple weeks (ie no play).  i was still in a fwb arrangement, and feeling kind of like a whore.  i like the sensation of promiscuity, to a certain extent, but i’m really not cut out to screw around.

so when i went home to dry out from school and sex, various men screwed their way through my dreams.  this didn’t help my whore-guilt.  it got better once i came home and renewed a steady regimen of play.

sometimes emotional cheating doesn’t bother me.  i know it’s because i haven’t gotten ass, and it’ll go away when i do.

that said, it’s good to be home.

was there a boy in my bed this evening?  yes.  yes there was.  11pm and all’s well.