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Posts Tagged ‘futbol’

I was meeting up with my ex girlfriend, the screenwriter, today for coffee when Cooper Fiennes texted me asking if I wanted to meet up and watch the Brazil-Chile match. Curious for them to meet each other, I told him to join us at my favorite cafe. She had heard about him and he, likewise. About 20 minutes later he walked in and she stumbled over herself for the first moments. She has deep-seated insecurities which makes meeting new people incredibly awkward for her.  He excused himself for the restroom and she was able to express her “oh my god”s and “holy shit”s regarding her impression of him. Once he arrived back at the table she was able to relax and speak comfortably with him.

Prior to C.F. , Screenwriter Girl had the best body of anyone I had been with. Unfortunately, her reasons behind the pristine physique were resulting from serious childhood sexual abuse trauma. A need to feel physically strong, since she is an emotional cripple. I care about her, but how do I say this? I was NEVER in love with her. She needed too much rescuing and I was already lost.  C.F.actually commented later on this. He said that there was something in her eyes that showed her traumas to the world. Even after she has gained physical strength, she has been unable to feel safe and heal. Her body is not a tool for fun and sport, as it is with C.F., this is their difference. Cooper Fiennes relishes sport of all types for how alive it makes him feel. The more his body aches, the more he pushes and challenges himself, the more alive and vibrant he feels. It’s incredibly sexy. Screenwriter Girl is trapped in her body, Cooper Fiennes uses his as an instrument of freedom.

I realized that the match had begun nearly twenty minutes prior and we really needed to get out the door and find a pub close by with food and the game. It was destined to be a good game, both teams are historically strong players with great coaches, so it could go either way. We left the cafe and said cheers to Screenwriter Girl and headed down the street. The Irish pub around the corner had air conditioning (THANK GOD!) and we found a seat right below the flat screen. 0-0 with a half hour in. We ordered some ciders, some food, and settled in. He pulled my stool closer to his and proceeded to act like a 14-year-old boy the entire match. You know, the “I poke you cause I like you” game? I love that he actually explains certain aspects of the game to me, things such as why there is a difference in the calls made by the English refs versus Spanish refs, what constitutes a yellow card or a foul, etc. He does it without my asking. While I have always liked International Football, I have watched it without knowing much about the game besides the obvious: ball goes into net equals goal. Dating C.F. has MANY benefits, apparently!!!

Brazil squashed Chile 3-0. It was a great game, but Chile could have played stronger. Not wanting to brave the heat, which was still nearly 35 degrees celsius/ 94 degrees farenheit , we had the waitress switch on Wimbledon for twenty minutes. Roddick had his ass handed to him by Yen-Hsun Lu and Capriati was rushed to the hospital for an accidental overdose. Between Capriati’s issues and Aggasi having been a meth user, who knew that Tennis could be so full of illicit behaviors?! It always seemed more refined some how. I guess when Tiger has a harem, Agassi smokes the pipe and Capriati abuses prescription pills, there is no such thing as refined sports anymore. Public figures are public figures and they all are susceptible to demons that fame can bring.

We wandered out, immediately wilted in the heat and decided to grab some ice cream for the stroll back to the train station. On the way he poked me no less than 30 times, and we stopped in 5 stores with air conditioning just to cool off for a few moments. We grabbed one more iced tea at Starbucks and sat chatting before parting ways on the street.

Meanwhile, I have been starting my period all day and annoyed that I couldn’t get a piece of ass if I begged. I’ve decided that hard to get is my new alter ego. If either of these boys want booty, they gotta work for it and jump through hoops, cause I’m not gonna be so easy anymore, damn it. Sigh, even if it means that I end up so sexually frustrated that I develop carpal tunnel from masturbating.

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Last Tuesday night was a fun night with Type Geek. Being with him is always this great mix of sweetness and naughtiness. I never feel like I need to play a charade or be something I am not with these two boys I am seeing right now. I have tried to step it up with the dresses a bit and play up the girly factor a little bit more, since they both seem to really enjoy that, but it isn’t something that comes unnaturally. I was always a very femme girl. The time and effort are what stopped my sometimes, not the dress and the cute shoes. So, as I was saying, it’s nice to wake up next to someone and be able to just be yourself.

I was wondering how this was going to work, now that Type Geek and Cooper Fiennes are back in the same city, hell, the same neighborhood. So far, it’s interested. This past weekend was the first experiment in how this will work. I have this weird thing in my mind, If I am going to see the two boys on back to back nights, I need to see Type Geek and then Cooper Fiennes the next. I would be embarrassed to say this, to admit it to some people, BUT, this is anonymous and only a very few of you know my real identity…so what the hell. I feel like it’s unfair to have sex with the well endowed energizer bunny the night before the average guy. Average is NOT bad, but I get a different, more primal, being fucked kind of feeling from my Spaniard. There are times, and certain positions, that are almost painful. Not quite painful, but almost. Type Geek is wonderful, but I don’t get that feeling from him. I really enjoy sex with both of them, but there is something about fucking a man with a perfectly toned body, a large cock and a great sense of humor, that sometimes trumps the guaranteed orgasm the other can give you.  Cooper Fiennes is a piece of fruit with an expiration date, and I want to savor it while I have it. Type Geek lives here, is a permanent resident, has relationship potential, if I decide I want a relationship with a man again.

So, I was hoping to see Type Geek on Thursday or Friday, with Cooper Fiennes following up on Friday or Saturday. Plans with Type Geek kept getting turned around, post-poned and canceled due to work and family emergencies. I understand and truthfully, I am not bothered by it. I feel badly for some of the drama he is digging through at the moment. It’s hard to come back from vacation and step right back into chaos. So, then I tried to make a date with Cooper Fiennes. We had lunch later in the week, Thursday. That was nice, but not naked. Friday night he was exhausted. He ran 7 miles, played soccer and had gone rowing for 2 hours. He was done by 10 pm and hoping to be in bed by 11. We had a big gay brunch to go to on Saturday morning. June is always gay pride month, as many of us are aware, and I was invited to a brunch by a couple I know. Cooper Fiennes and I went, stood in the rain and watched some big gay festivities, I came out to my former neighbor as a recently reformed cock lover (which elicited an interesting response that I will touch base on in my next post), and then my dog and I walked C.F. across town to a bar for the World Cup games. I then headed home and had fingers crossed that I was seeing my Type Geek that night.

As the hours stretched by, it seemed likely I would be stuck at home alone for the night. T.G. had family stuff that needed to be dealt with and C.F. was being less than responsive to my texts wondering what he was up to after he was done hanging with his work friends. his work friends do NOT know the true nature of our relationship. I think some have an idea BUT it is a little complicated. Prior to meeting me, he had a very brief fling with one of their fellow colleagues. C.F. is married, but with no hope of reconciliation. His wife wanted something different and she told him so and moved on. he can’t finalize the divorce until he goes back to Spain. His colleague was cheating on her husband to be with him. Because of this, and how attached she was for their situations, C.F. ended it. She has been a bit passive aggressive ever since. Also, he is semi private about his divorce. While they know he isn’t living with her anymore and that I seem to show up at weird places and weird times, nothing has been said. Eventually, I’m taking a bath at 9 pm. It will prove to either be for a quick shave so I can molest C.F. or a pre bed soak. Midway through my bath, C.F. says he will meet up. Yay, sex !!

We met on the train platform, I stuck the fishnets back on, with my boots, a hot little silky black dress I hadn’t worn yet and minimal eye makeup. I knew the makeup wasn’t what he would be looking at. As we sat next to each other on the train, I slid his hand under the edge of the dress so he could feel that I had on garters. Happy boy. We picked up some ice and made it back to his house in record time. As I made us a couple of cocktails, he tried to distract me. We started on the kitchen counter and then he picked me up and moved me to the bed. Damn, it’s really hot to be physically picked up and moved around by someone like that. Again, stockings stayed on, sex rocked and we actually finished before dawn. We then finished our drinks and had a really great conversation about us and his marriage and our philosophies on life and dating and sex, etc. Next thing I know, we are having sex again. He is exhausted, I’m sore, and we really just need to sleep cause the birds are singing and he has to meet his colleagues to support a team event they are participating in. We look at each other and just pull up the blankets and stop. Then the phone rings. The event is starting early, in a half hour to be precise. I was planning on heading home, grabbing the dog and meeting back up, as if we hadn’t been in bed with eachother all night. That was not going to happen however. He jumped in the shower, I just threw on my non naughty clothes I brought to change into and we ran over to the event site.

Within a half hour, his colleagues all noticed I was there, and it was early and hmmm. One woman made comments. We think she knows. She kept saying things to illicit responses from either of us, specifically me and I would play deaf, ignorant or just laugh and change the topic whenever she said a word. I’m curious how this will all play out for him now that the week has started back up. Meanwhile, I held out mini hopes that maybe I could hang out with Type Geek on Sunday evening, but his brother is just too ill and needed him there for the night. The brother is being brought back to the hospital today. Hopefully they find an answer to his months of problems and I get my boy back soon.

Now, it’s the beginning of the week. I am going to try to avoid chatting up my Spaniard and try to get some errands taken care of. I want him to contact me next time he wants sex or company. I shouldn’t be doing the chasing all the time. He needs to work for it a bit, I have been too easy for him.

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So, I didn’t drink the beer, but I kissed the Quebecer. He looks like a more intellectual, better traveled, far more sardonic and jaded Josh Lucas. I never thought much about Josh Lucas, or facial hair, until it was sitting before me speaking french. Parisian French don’t do a lot for me, but after years of working with some French Canadian Circus folks and having a thick ancestry in Quebec, I have a soft spot for cute Québécois!

I had a meeting with my personal advisor around 3 but due to some conflicts with her earlier clients, it was pushed til 3:30. Frenchie and I met in front of a local coffee shop because my throat was feeling a bit scratchy and I was dying for some hot tea and honey. The cafe was busy though, a line nearly out the door, so we decided to walk 20 minutes to another cafe in a nearby neighborhood. We sat and chatted for a bit. He was cute. Cuter in person than on-line. That academia meets no longer hipster but still hipper than most thing. A more New York version of Josh Lucas, except with the ability to speak hot french. Holy hot french by the way. Damn, I could listen to that all night long. After drinking tea for about a half hour we decided to go have some cocktails. A few in, some talk of hockey and futbol, a revelation that I had slept with his favorite wine seller, whom he didn’t think was gay, and I realized that I really wanted to kiss him. I couldn’t quite read him yet though. He admitted to trying boys once, to make sure, a brave thing to admit to me, but he assumed, rightly so, that I wouldn’t judge. In fact, I found it quite sexy that he could be secure enough to explore himself and his sexuality so fully. Not many men are capable of that. A couple of drinks in each and we were a little tipsy. We decided to head over for some Syrian/middle eastern food.

Less than a block from the bar, I pulled on his arm and drew him closer because I just needed to know. Good kisses. Definitely. We made it to the restaurant, ordered a couple of drinks at the bar while we waited for our table and chatted some more. I allowed him to order for me at the table and we talked more than flirted, although the flirt was there. Eventually he told me how attractive he considered me, a compliment always, nice to hear when it comes genuinely in a moment that isn’t expected. His hand touched my knee a few times, and the smiles came easily. While slightly jaded and cynical, he also carries a genuine openness that many don’t possess. He is far more attractive in person than he appears on-line. I don’t think photos are able to do him justice, as part of his appeal is his personality and physical energy, which is difficult to capture in a photo.

We finished our meal of assorted appetizers; baked eggplants, lamb, fava beans and stuffed grape leaves. We commented on the patrons, the staff, the server, and the music. Occasionally we caught glances at each other that lasted a little longer than necessary or accompanied a smirk that wasn’t necessary. The flirt was definitely on.

It was getting late and both of our dogs needed walking, plus, it’s always good to leave wanting more. As we left, we walked past the train station and I decided to get on, he was surprised, but I thought that it was better to leave while we were ahead. I also had a mildly scratchy throat and in the case that I was coming down with something, anything more than street kisses, might pass on a cold to this poor guy, if that is what I am coming down with. We kissed for a few minutes next to the station entrance and I was pleased that it was even better than the first time I kissed him. We looked at each other for a moment and sighed. One last quick kiss and I ran down the stairs. I was tempted to text him, to run back up and kiss him again, but I refrained. It’s nice to want sometimes.

I sat on the train and smirked on my ride home. When I reached my station, I received a text from him. He thanked me for a great date and voiced his wishes that I had been able to stay and make out with him for a little longer. I responded that sometimes it’s nice to leave wanting more. He wants me to come to his place and make him dinner. I suspect I shall, sooner than later. I also suspect that I will have some extended hot make out sessions with french spoken in my ear as I feed him one of the best home cooked meals he has had in a while, although, his mom is from Montreal and makes an amazing coq co vin. I may have a challenge on my hands, how can I out cook his mom?

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