Infatuated.

I went over to Martine’s yesterday evening, before I headed over to Zouk Out. We spent most of the time lying in bed, talking, cuddling, and sighing. I had my period, and the bitter, metallic smell of blood completely throws him off, so we didn’t fuck (he actually calls it making love, and is actually really sincere about it. Isn't that sweet.) He was very apologetic , but swore that he wasn’t lying just so he could skim out of another week of leaving the sheets unwashed. (Nah, not really, he’s one of the neatest, most sanitary guys I’ve ever known; My brother being the other. My sister and I are the bloody-tampon-in-the-waste-basket and so-who-cares kinda girls).

Martine is odd, he says he doesn’t know what to do about me, and that’s a big problem for him. I told him about the fucker who’d said I had better be careful, and he said that I had indeed better be careful. Because not every where else in the world was as safe to live in as is Singapore; and especially I were to decide to continue getting myself educated in the states, I had to be more disciplined about my behaviour. He said he liked me for it, but it might just kill me someday.

‘You’ve got a lot of sense, even more sense then I do sometimes. But there’s such naiveté about you... When people can feel that, and they trust you, that's fine. But not everyone loves you and you can’t think that they’d do things for you purely because your nice. There are people who wouldn't think about anything beyond themselves when they hurt other people.’

‘I’ve been fine so far.’

‘It’s part of what you are. I can’t tell you to change, and wouldn’t want it… but please just be careful.’

I propped my head up and leaned on my elbow so I could look at his face. I gave him a impish, lop-sided smile.

‘Who are you?’ He asked me, after a long pause.

‘What?’ I broke into a bemused, incredulous grin. ‘There’s nothing to know about me. I really can’t think of what you might want to know apart from whatever I’ve already told you.’

He sighed, and I felt as if he wanted to dig into every corner of my mind and stroke every facet of my personality. And I also felt like after he’d done all of that, he’d still not believe he knew me. But perhaps it’s because the way I feel for him is completely not how I’ve felt for a very long time, and certainly not how I feel normally, towards most other people, and I wouldn't want him to ever think he;s got me figured out. It would, (I will) be all too boring then.

‘You know, you were wrong to say that my passions are misplaced on you.’ I told him, referring to something he’d said to me months back. ‘It doesn’t matter if you aren’t half as fantastic as I imagine you to be, and that this fascination in you for me is how you are much older. Age illusion, whatever. I don’t subscribe to it anyway. It’s what I do imagine in you that does matter, and even if my perception of you is completely way off the mark, so what? I’m happy to imagine it.’

I climbed over him and straddled his waist, placing my palms against his shoulder blades, looking down into his face. I had to tell him why I'm so infatuated with him. He's all those normal things that is good to have in a man, but it wasn’t that. After much difficulty, I managed to get it out. I still find it odd that I have no problem telling a lie, or at least a half-hearted truth for flattery, but find it immensely difficult to really put my feelings out on a plate if they were the completely real. Perhaps it’s partially from the fear of having them exploited.

<>‘Considerate. Any guy can be that.’ I said, starting to blabber it all out. ‘Smart, stylish, good-looking… You know, that’s so easy. You’re probably the most normal person in the world, just as everybody is when you get used to them.
But the thing that attracts me beyond sensibility is how you’re so intense. It’s that focus you have, when you speak, or kiss or make love to me. I can feel that absorption for what I have to say, for my body, my pleasure. The intensity drives me.’

I couldn’t stop kissing him all evening. I dreamt about it all the night before, and his tongue and his lips against mine felt completely erotic; just thinking about it drives me nuts. He pushed me onto my side gently and pressed his crotch against mine as he grabbed my ankle. We had a bit of dry sex like that, spooning, with one of my legs in the air, and it was completely erotic. He’s much taller, and bigger, and as he pushed himself against me, it was powerful. I sighed and sighed and he breathed my name again and again into my ear. His passion felt so real, and so accessible (It’s a pity not enough men are as expressive). I slipped a hand into my panties and started jilling off, and came like that, begging him to tell me if there was anything he wanted, and anything at all.

Men usually reply with the simplest answers, and it’s usually either Rocky Road ice cream or ‘make me come’. I always find it amusing how when they ask me that, I’d say something like, ‘Worship me and every part of me’ (Well, it’s what I say most of the time when I’m asked anyway, although ‘whatever you want’ is an offer that females usually make, and not the other way round). Anyway, his was the latter.

I took his hand and placed it on his dick and got him to jerk it off, with my mouth sucking off the head. It was over in awhile and I giggled after I’d caught his come in my mouth. (In all honesty, I normally don’t swallow, and I find it very difficult to blow someone I’m not deeply affectionate towards. Subjugation is such a great feeling, but not with just any one).

I got up and straddled him again, curling up myself around his body and resting my head against his chest. I just didn’t want to let go. I looked up at him, and he smiled lightly at me, making me giggle again.

‘What’s with that?’ He asked.

‘Oh nothing much. I was just thinking how precious it is when you do smile, because you don’t do enough of that.’

He was about to ask me if I’d like to shower with him, then said aloud that he had been about it, only, well, he really couldn’t stand the smell of blood. I showered alone, but he came in when I was done and bought in a bowl of mango and some spicy orange tea, and placed them by the punch-bowl basin.

I thought that was very, very thoughtful, and very kind of him.

xoxox