socks

I mean, he was alright. I suppose he could shed a pound or fifteen... maybe invest in some invisalign to fix that snaggle tooth... But somehow he pulled off his little smooth charade well enough to allow me to invite him up.


Que the dimming lights.


I'm exaggerating. He wasn't that bad looking. He had nice eyes. Green, I think. Maybe hazel... Good head of hair. Nice goatee thing happening - long enough to show he can grow it, not too long that I'd get a facial rash. He had a killer voice, too. I'm a sucker for voices.


When he called me to check what time we were meeting and if I needed a lift to El Cantinori's I instantly felt attracted to him. Deep, husky voice. Like a manly purr.


So here we were. At my apartment. On the couch. Giggles and all and things quickly heat up. From the couch, to the hall (note some knocked down picture frames) to the bedroom... he suddenly seemed irresistible.


My neighbour, Mrs. Chan, was away visiting a relative for the weekend (I know this because I have to water her ferns - note to self, must do that ASAP) and I knew me and my gentleman could go all out.


Sheets flying. Lamps falling off nightstands... the whole shibang. It was hot, sweaty, invigorating... everything a six-month-dry-spelled girl could ask for.


Immediately afterwards we laid there, on top of the only remaining material on my bed - the mattress cover. Hot. Very hot. Not just the sex. The room. I was laying there completely naked and sweating. Head to toe. As was h---


No. No he didn't. No, no, no, no.... The man who I thought was completely naked, like myself, was laying there like a breathless pig still in socks.


No shirt, no pants, no boxers, no jewellery. Yet wearing his white and grey, Nike swoosh sports socks in my bed. There's something incredibly wrong about this. I don't think one woman can truly put her finger on the particular reason why this is such a turn off but I do guarantee every woman is repulsed by it. Something about being too childish and... freakish. Dude, we're about to do the dirty... get those stinky sweat soakers off your feet like a real man!


I can look past a snaggle tooth and even a little gut... but if you dare wear socks while bedding up with me, the only thing you'll get worth receiving is a boot to match.

movie night

Last night I had sex with a guy on his piano. It wasn't as hot as I'd always imagined it'd be.

I mean, in Pretty Woman, Julia Roberts and Richard Gere have tender yet sexy foreplay (and I always assumed sex) on the piano at the Radison. This scene always seemed so classy and hot to me. The real thing's not as such.

This guy named Jake had me over to his place after our fourth (maybe fifth?) date and his piano was the first thing that caught my eye... And not because I found it hot or interesting that he can play an instrument but the very first thought that entered my mind was sex.on.the.keys.

I used to have a piano in my dining room as a kid. It was wooden, out of tune and definitely had zero sex appeal.

Other pianos I've seen in my lifetime have always been in families' homes where I did not have free sexual access to them.

But here it was. A baby grand. Middle of his condo. Two glasses of wine close by. I attempted a sexy stroll over to the piano as he slowly lingered after me. I turned around and gently rested my ass on the keys. Unfortunately, I was at the left side of the piano and the keys made a shockingly deep and frighteningly dooming sound. The sound stopped abruptly as I quickly jumped off. Though the echo of the sound seemed to last forever.

Okay. I tried again. This time I was positioned myself much closer to the right side. The sound would probably be more delicate and feminine. It was. He started to kiss me all over my neck... shoulders... then I attempted to take off my panties. It was awkward. We were standing. And still trying to kiss.

Eventually they came off with great difficulty and there we were. Naked. Kissing in front of his piano. In the middle of his condo.

Here's the thing... Piano keys aren't that long. Ass cheeks everywhere. Unpleasant sounds. Awkward rhythms. The whole thing was wildly cumbersome and took far more work than we got back in enjoyment.

I got to thinking about how Hollywood movies let us down when it comes to sex. Pianos, elevators, hot tubs, airplanes, surprise sex...

Movies make sex scenes seems so effortless and hot and spontaneous and quite frankly, last night was a disappointment. A failure. A little off-key if you will.