Archive for July 12th, 2010

An update on the day… Sunday July 10, 2010.

Spain wins first World Cup EVER!

Cooper Fiennes sobs from joy, then sadness. Being in the United States, so far from friends, family and countrymen was amplified post win. Then, once the floodgates opened, it was apparent that he was also crying over the loss of his marriage and all of the change in his life. I believe he is lonely, in a way that friends aren’t able to reach into and fill at the moment. It was immensely endearing to se him so vulnerable. All I wanted to do was hold him, but we were at his colleague’s house. The woman whom the strange dynamic exists.

A question in my mind, since I had heard that Spanish men weren’t particularly blessed in physical endowment, however he is, was answered. It was a sideline conversation and when Cooper Fiennes mentioned that his great-grandmother was Sephardic Jew… it clicked. Once again, Hung Like a Jew is true. Of course, the hottie with the beautiful cock turns out to have some Jewish running through the most important veins of his body. I should have known that there was a reasonable explanation for it, besides meer blessed fluke.

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Type Geek has been doing a lot of rain checks lately. A lot. They have grown to become frustrating and boring. I like him, so I put aside time for him. I was surprised to enjoy his company as much as I do, but alas, I do. We were supposed to have a date last Tuesday night, but we rain-checked due to band practice. He then wanted to get together on Wednesday night, but I already had plans. Jesus, World Cup match day, HELLO?! Besides, it isn’t an auto roll over if a night get’s rain checked. I don’t drop all my plans anymore. I did that one day. I had the potential for REALLY hot sex with Cooper Fiennes, totally a hot middle of the afternoon naughty proposition, but because a sexy b-day dinner for  Type Geek’s friend, with the promise of hot sex later loomed, I turned C.F. down. However, loom is ALL the sex did, because Type Geek was spending the night throwing up and curled up in a ball sick. So, I didn’t get laid.

I have infinite patience, if someone communicates with me. IF someone communicates with me. So, instead of rolling our date over to Wednesday night, we agreed to a Saturday afternoon music festival. Laying around in the sun, soaking up the rays, listening to bad 90’s indie-pop-rock. Then the threats of rain came. So, Friday night we canceled those plans. I told him to let me know what he wanted to do instead.

Saturday morning came, I listened to Germany kick ass into the 3rd place position while I cleaned my condo.The afternoon came, no contact from Type Geek. The evening came and finally, come 7 pm, I texted him asking what happened to him.”Oh dear” was his response. Apparently he sent me some sort of text that morning, which I never received. Apparently. He also never contacted me to see what was up, when i didn’t get said message. I grew frustrated. I told him that I was frustrated that I wasn’t getting to see him. That there are times that I really do look forward to seeing him, and when our rendezvous gets canceled, I find myself disappointed. I didn’t hear a response. I think we maybe wrapping up our little affair. I deserve to feel wanted, even in a casual relationship. I don’t think it is malicious on his end, but I do think his behavior may be a little short-sighted.

What do you all think? Kick to the curb? Ask for clarity by asking if things are going on and this recent rash of behavior is only temporary? Shack up with the Spaniard and become an ex-pat? Okay, I vote for 3, but that isn’t a reality. So, opinions?

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The World Cup game on the 7th was intense. We all gathered at a local Irish pub and with beers and ciders in hand, stayed glued to the screen for over 90 minutes of tension, until finally, the match was called and Spain was declared the winner over Germany.  Cooper Fiennes and I had discussed going dancing that evening, however, he wasn’t sure he wanted to. He decided he wanted to get some work done that evening and sleep in, so perhaps no dancing. Instead, we planned on some dinner and then I was going to head home. Only I didn’t make it home any sooner than if we had gone dancing.

I brought him to a local seafood and barbeque place that is known as a foodie’s paradise. He ordered barbecued beef ribs while I had mussels and french fries. We chatted in our normal friendly way and then, after our meals were finished, I moved over to the banquette and sat beside him. His hand ran up my skirt as we drank bad sangria and looked around the room to ensure no one saw what he was doing. After we left, we walked around wondering where we could go make out. There were no parks, no alleys, no where private. My place, dirty, was too far away. His place, new flat mate, wasn’t cleared for overnight guests yet. So, dilemma, what to do?

Cars by the hour, cars when you want them…. rental cars are the saving grace of horny people everywhere! I made a reservation over the phone and picked one up about 20 minutes later. As I drove, panties on the floor board of the car, his hand was between my legs. That makes it really difficult to concentrate on the road, in case you are wondering. At one point I pulled off the road into an alley because I was going to crash or cum. Unfortunately, I didn’t do one, and fortunately, I didn’t do the other. I did, however, ask him to stop so we could get somewhere that I could park the car without risk for arrest.

20 minutes later we were parked behind a warehouse with a waterfront view of the city. After ten minutes of grinding my knee on the passenger door as I was grinding myself on him, we decided to move to the back seat.  it was a remarkably roomy car, allowing for extended foreplay, three sexual position changes, and some post coital cuddling. Not bad. We looked at the view of the night skyline and listened to the radio pump out old Cure songs. I was strangely content.

I made him return the car, it was in his neighborhood. Since we fucked behind a warehouse in mine, I figured he could return the car to his. Only fair, correct?  The only truthful negatives to car sex? Upholstery burn on my knee, a bruised nipple and arm. Are these wounds a fair trade for hot sex with my Spaniard? Always. Viva Espana!

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