Amory Felix (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fatespoken) wrote2010-08-23 03:38 am
fatespoken) wrote2010-08-23 03:38 am
[ audio ] | backdated
I was sixteen when I first had sex.
She was a Grace Kelly kind of woman, and while calling a blonde a Grace is one of the most abused platitudes around, it was the truth. Charlotte had all the lacquered surfaces to make her that kind of woman. But you’d never call Grace a Charlotte. There was always something engulfing, sharp teeth hiding beneath all that Chanel and perfume.
The first time I’d met her was in France, during one of my father’s business trips. They had been friends for centuries and she was due for a visit.
It was the quintessential story. We watched a show and had dinner, then we went up to her room where conversation found its way to her stripping nude and draping herself over those white sheets as if, for an instant, she was actually vulnerable. She could have snapped my neck off with one hand, and yet, she let me pound it into her- I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing, because porn’s only porn and observation’s never going to amount to action. But she was encouraging, soft throaty words and hands in places where she knew exactly where to put them.
Half-way through, she'd suddenly flipped me over mounted like a cowgirl.
I’d be embarrassed if the sex hadn’t been amazing. We did it twice more that spring, and that was it. Five years later, we met and fucked again, except this time I knew what I was doing. She cut into me, I cut into her, she kissed me with blood on her lips and it was utterly fantastic. Until the end-
Besides that.
Attraction was one thing, but I never really loved her. Who wasn’t attracted to her? She’d overtake a whole room by force of her personality alone. A fucking predator. However, Charlotte was too much of an enigma to love and more than enough of a woman to fuck.
I probably wouldn't have had sex with her that night if I hadn't kissed that boy the day before.
There was that summer during my internship at Fermilab where I nearly got one of them to sleep with me. Flirted with him because I knew what he wanted. I didn't mind listening to him talk. Attractive enough. And what can I say, it's fun to manipulate. He pushed me against a wall. I said no and that I had a girlfriend. But at that point, I wouldn't have done it if even if I wasn't with Elisa. It wasn't the case of being of being scared and sixteen. It's professionalism.
But Elisa was incomparable. She wasn't a Grace Kelly or a Christina Hendricks. Elisa Lowell was Elisa Lowell. I'd secretly wanted to have sex with her years before we actually dd it. Most people you meet are worthless, and when you've got a friend like that, it's not something you'd want to tarnish. Sex with her was like a crescendo. She'd always build up that tension gradually until everything culminated at that apex. Elisa was always delicate, always steady and confident. First time, it was at my house in San Francisco. Wine cellar in the Sonoma house. The top level stacks at Cal's library. China Beach. Her father's boat. A hotel in Hong Kong. A classroom. Just to name a few. Elisa was never as aggressive as Charlotte. It was never as much of a powerplay, not sex for just the motions and satisfaction, since-
I ended up cheating on her.
Other than that-- one night stands without names or numbers. A hooker or two. A few people in the City.
[ .... the longest pause ever, that it might not be a pause. ]
Curse. You know, I don't even care anymore.
[ ooc: cursed with the "We did that?" curse. Please assume this was posted around 7 PM yesterday? Apologies all-around for backdating. <33 Busy weekend was busier than expected.
She was a Grace Kelly kind of woman, and while calling a blonde a Grace is one of the most abused platitudes around, it was the truth. Charlotte had all the lacquered surfaces to make her that kind of woman. But you’d never call Grace a Charlotte. There was always something engulfing, sharp teeth hiding beneath all that Chanel and perfume.
The first time I’d met her was in France, during one of my father’s business trips. They had been friends for centuries and she was due for a visit.
It was the quintessential story. We watched a show and had dinner, then we went up to her room where conversation found its way to her stripping nude and draping herself over those white sheets as if, for an instant, she was actually vulnerable. She could have snapped my neck off with one hand, and yet, she let me pound it into her- I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing, because porn’s only porn and observation’s never going to amount to action. But she was encouraging, soft throaty words and hands in places where she knew exactly where to put them.
Half-way through, she'd suddenly flipped me over mounted like a cowgirl.
I’d be embarrassed if the sex hadn’t been amazing. We did it twice more that spring, and that was it. Five years later, we met and fucked again, except this time I knew what I was doing. She cut into me, I cut into her, she kissed me with blood on her lips and it was utterly fantastic. Until the end-
Besides that.
Attraction was one thing, but I never really loved her. Who wasn’t attracted to her? She’d overtake a whole room by force of her personality alone. A fucking predator. However, Charlotte was too much of an enigma to love and more than enough of a woman to fuck.
I probably wouldn't have had sex with her that night if I hadn't kissed that boy the day before.
There was that summer during my internship at Fermilab where I nearly got one of them to sleep with me. Flirted with him because I knew what he wanted. I didn't mind listening to him talk. Attractive enough. And what can I say, it's fun to manipulate. He pushed me against a wall. I said no and that I had a girlfriend. But at that point, I wouldn't have done it if even if I wasn't with Elisa. It wasn't the case of being of being scared and sixteen. It's professionalism.
But Elisa was incomparable. She wasn't a Grace Kelly or a Christina Hendricks. Elisa Lowell was Elisa Lowell. I'd secretly wanted to have sex with her years before we actually dd it. Most people you meet are worthless, and when you've got a friend like that, it's not something you'd want to tarnish. Sex with her was like a crescendo. She'd always build up that tension gradually until everything culminated at that apex. Elisa was always delicate, always steady and confident. First time, it was at my house in San Francisco. Wine cellar in the Sonoma house. The top level stacks at Cal's library. China Beach. Her father's boat. A hotel in Hong Kong. A classroom. Just to name a few. Elisa was never as aggressive as Charlotte. It was never as much of a powerplay, not sex for just the motions and satisfaction, since-
I ended up cheating on her.
Other than that-- one night stands without names or numbers. A hooker or two. A few people in the City.
[ .... the longest pause ever, that it might not be a pause. ]
Curse. You know, I don't even care anymore.
[ ooc: cursed with the "We did that?" curse. Please assume this was posted around 7 PM yesterday? Apologies all-around for backdating. <33 Busy weekend was busier than expected.
audio;
[Jo didn't mean to say anything. Hell, she didn't mean to hear all of this either. But she was just sitting around the apartment and the Network usually had something interesting to listen to, but never anything like this.
Not that it mattered, she already blew her cover anyway.]
audio;
Sex. What a strange phenomenon.
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Your choice to read it. Not my choice to post it.
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Best reaction is to suck it up.
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... My experiences have probably been more diverse than yours.
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