Backlog: Dredging up past possibilities (6. January 2008)

Yesterday's orgasm count: three. All self-inflicted.

I woke up this morning horny as hell, and found myself thinking about Peter, a man I have lusted after years ago. We met somewhat by chance, and I was immediately attracted to him, and flirted outrageously. From what I could tell, he was flirting back, and there was a certain glint in his eyes when he looked at me. We shared a few geeky interests, and often found ourselves in the same places late at night as a result of those interests. Sometimes, he'd drive me home, and we got on like a house on fire. In fact, I was cautiously eyeing him as a candidate for potential boyfriend material -- my relationship with my beloved was still much more casual at that point.

Of course, I had to give up on the idea quickly enough: he turned out to have a girlfriend, and let's face it, the vast majority of relationships in the Western world is monogamous. Shit. Still, nothing changed between us, we still flirted, and eventually, he took me to meet his girlfriend, having explained beforehand that she was bisexual. Aah. It all became clear. Well, I shrugged inwardly, and accepted the situation. I was no stranger to the threesome initiated by the man wanting me, and thus giving me to his bisexual girlfriend in hopes that she'll share.

In any case, the girlfriend, Sally, turned out to be nice enough, though I felt no particular spark for her, nor did we share any particular interests. Still, I was happy enough to get involved, and after a few occasions of "sniffing each other out", as it were, the three of us ended up enmeshed together on the couch at their place. And while I pointedly focussed my attention on Sally, I found myself responding to Peter's affections more than I was entirely comfortable with. I just liked him a little bit too much. I wanted him like crazy, but kept myself more passive towards him, simply because I had no idea what I was and wasn't allowed to do to him. So when he kissed me, I'd kiss him back, when he spooned me, I pressed against him, feeling his erection in the small of my back, wishing I could just fuck him, and when he fingered me, I arched and moaned, wanting him all the more. I behaved. I didn't sense that openness and freedom to do anything you wanted, which I had felt in previous threesomes with other people. I wasn't going to push it.

Afterwards, I sort of drifted apart from them, as sometimes, you really don't need to complicate your life even further. I also found myself distracted by my relationship with my beloved getting more serious, and at the end of the day, my attraction to Peter didn't really compare. But this morning, I found myself remembering Peter, and the effect he'd had on me, and I couldn't resist fantasising about him as I fucked myself with my vibrator, which is incidentally roughly the same size as him. And I'm tempted to contact him and make a time to catch up with both of them again. We recently took up loose contact again, about six months ago, after maybe 18 months of silence. It's damn tempting, but probably not wise. Damn it.

I've also been thinking about Gabe quite a bit. I've just found out through the grapevine that he's no longer in town, and has gone home. Hm. I suppose it's just as well, but I am a little put out about the fact that he didn't tell me that. I'd sort of thought we'd catch up again before he left, even if just for a platonic chin wag.

Then again, it's not like I do the usual thing that girls do, when they keep calling and pestering their men. In fact, I haven't really contacted him at all, unless you count the bulk message I send out to a whole group of people, which is hardly personal. I guess like many men, I actually expect my shag partners to contact me, and not vice versa.