Closet assholes

Alternate title: “Thinking With My Cunt”

I’ve just met a guy who has blown my socks off. He’s intelligent, funny, entertaining, an excellent kisser, and seems to have the type of personality that I can really and truly submit to.

Our first date was supposed to be a “coffee and get to know you” type thing. It lasted for over eight hours and involved him coming over to my house for pizza and hockey. I have a hang-up about people being allowed in my space, especially if it’s not in guest condition (which it wasn’t – things get progressively messier as the semester continues) and yet I wasn’t concerned about him having a look at the uncensored me.

I broke my rule about not playing around on the first date again. Honestly, I make this rule every time, and never seem to want to stick to it when push comes to shove. *laughing* But I felt so comfortable around him that it didn’t matter that we hadn’t discussed checklists or any real likes or dislikes or hadn’t mentioned safewords. I wanted to feel what it was like to drop into that deep submissive headspace that I get into when I am playing.

I can’t believe how fucking fantastic it was. _big

The problem arises with my scepticism that pokes it’s little head up and says to me that anything that seems too good to be true usually is. My best friend and I have a title for it: “closet asshole”. They seem really great at the beginning but little by little the real idiot comes to light and you have to face the disappointment that the person you fell for is not a real person at all, but rather a figment created specifically to fool you. So my brain is telling me to be careful and yet my cunt has not stopped dripping since Saturday. If I allow my cunt to dictate, then I should throw all caution to the wind and see where this thing takes me. If I listen to my head, I should hold onto some reserve and keep a little distance, just in case. I’ve been let down before and I don’t want to have it happen again.

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