Steve went from the top spot in my hook-up ratings to a FAIL for our second encounter. It wasn't exactly anyone's fault, really. Just one of those things.
He got a room at a nice hotel and I met him there. I was looking forward to playing with him again as our first hook-up went so swimmingly. It started nicely with a drink and a bit of a smoke. He's very into satisfying his partner and tbh, it throws me for a bit of a loop because I'm a pleaser by nature and care more about 'their' pleasure and less about my own. I'm sure it all goes hand in hand with my Control issues. But since he was determined to get me off, I made sure to bring my magic wand vibrator that guarantees orgasms. I like to warm up with it first, then at just the right moment, tell the guy to put his fingers in me. When all is right with the world, this makes me cum in multiples.
Vibe warm up. Check. Finger fuck. Check. Multiple orgasms. Check. Now that I was all soft, wet, and amenable to just about anything, he suddenly spots a pinkish smear on the glaring white hotel sheet. His face blanches.
“Is that blood?” he asks.
I quickly check myself and I'm not actively bleeding. I assure him it's not my period because I'd just had it ten or so days prior. I know some people can't deal with menstrual blood. I'm kinda one of them. I make a joke.
“Ward, you were a little hard on the Beaver”.
And he was. He was doing the “attempted squirt” finger fuck that requires quite a vigorous thrusting.
He doesn't laugh; just sort of sits there.
“I can't stand the sight of blood,” he explains.
“So that's it??”, I say.
I can tell he is sorry but I want dick! I offer to just blow him because I honestly do love sucking him, but he declines. Apparently, the boner has left the building. I'm trying to make sense of this unprecedented turn of events. I'm annoyed and disappointed. Horny and awkward. Not a fun combination. To sort of test him I hold out one hand and say,
“Look, I've got a hangnail. If I peel it off, the blood will start to well-up...”
He turns green, almost like in a damn Bugs Bunny cartoon. So I guess he's being truthful. Argh!
“I'll make it up to you next time,” he promises, obviously feeling shitty about it. Kitty don't care! We are standing in front of the bed and I can't help it. I place my hands on his chest and shove him so he falls backward on the bed. I growl in frustration. He keeps apologising but my ego has taken a beating and just wants to hide. Never mind that he got and paid for the hotel room. Never mind that I'd had multiple orgasms. I'm not happy. All because of a pinkish smear! But I try to be gracious, tell him it's okay, and hug him goodbye.
We've tried several times to get together since, without success. My inner kitty taunts me: 'maybe he's just not that into you.' Sigh. Maybe...