I realized that I never actually mentioned what happened with that guy from my frat beyond a sentence in some post. Mostly because I was a little conflicted about it, but I feel sort of equipped to share now.
Simply put: it was a really hot but really confusing encounter. And most of the people I have told about it agree with the hot stuff and don’t totally understand why I’m all hung up on random details.
Call me a traditional sap, but the asshole don’t kiss me.
To be fair, it didn’t fit in completely with what we were doing. He came home with me and one of my friends had fallen asleep on my carpet. So we were sort of quietly sitting up on my bed and talking.
It’s been a while, so I forget the context, but I remember telling him that I didn’t know how to place him because I didn’t know what he wanted.
“You know what I want,” he said, “but it’s more fun not giving myself that.”
And he held me down, eased my skirt up, and proceeded to edge me like I never have been before. He was firm but still sensual. The whole time I was desperately attempting to stay quiet and, just as I was teetering right at the edge, he stopped. He grinned, pulled the sheets up, and tucked me in.
“See?” I could see his smirk in the darkness. “It’s a lot more fun when I just tease you.”
And he left. I laid there in shock for a while, frustrated and awed.
On a ton of levels, I find that whole interaction incredibly hot. But I guess there’s still part of me that’s stupidly hung up on insecurities that he must not respect me, even when I know that isn’t true.