Oral lap dance

"George," Natalee asked, "do you have an STD?"
"Not that I know off," I said. "Why?"

She shrugged and took another bite. Green Thai curry is what she cooked me this time. I'm pretty sure she made it herself: I saw the opened packet of curry paste when I went rummaging through her fridge for milk, Wednesday morning.

No, we didn't fuck, in case you were wondering.

When I got to her place again, at first we pretended nothing had happened. We talked as if she hadn't told me what she had told me. Although I'm on new pills again, I was pretty nervous about the spicy food, so I mainly pushed it around on my plate, until she asked me, very straightforwardly, what exactly triggers my nosebleeds.

"Well," I said, "as you witnessed at Simon's funeral, it happens when I get upset. Or when I eat spicy food. And alcohol does the trick too, makes the blood thin, I guess."

"Then eat up," she said, "and let's get you sloshed."

"Sorry?" I said. I must have looked incredibly stupid while she took my glass of fizzy water to the kitchen and returned with a bottle of vodka.

I had no say in the matter. She made me eat the curry, which was the spiciest thing I've tasted for years. The last time I had something so spicy was at Jamie's place, when his brother and his pals tied me up and forced a bottle of hot sauce down my throat to see me bleed without punching me. They called me a girl when I did. It's not like I can help it, but I suppose neither can girls.

Any way, she just sat opposite me and watched me eat. I must say the new medication is great. So great, that it made me worry. At this point my shirt should have been drenched in blood, but nothing happened. Yet. And then she made me drink. Well, that did it: Two swigs and I was mixing a true Bloody Mary.

And then, the most amazing thing happened. Natalee got up without saying a word, leaned over me and started to lick. I sat frozen, didn't know what was going on, while she circled and licked my upper lip, my nostrils, the in and the outside... it was the most sensual thing I've ever experienced - so sexy I couldn't move. Kinda like a lap dance, when you just sit and cannot believe it is real.

And then she offered me her sofa. I don't know why she did that, I could easily have gone home. But how could I decline?

No cuppa

Went to Ibiza night at Pacha with Matt yesterday. Great fun. I love a bit of clubbing now and then - it's about the only time people don't freak out when I start pissing blood out of my face and go to the loo to stuff my nostrils with tiny tampons.

Anyway, I'm on these pills again that are supposed make my blood thicker. I've had others before and they don't always help, and you can never use them for too long or you'll get scabs in your heart. But the last couple of days were actually quite good. There was still blood on my pillow every morning, but less, and I've hardly had them during the daytime.

So I was quite optimistic when Matt asked if I wanted to come with him.

I didn't dare to drink, because everything was going so well, and there was this gorgeous Portuguese girl giving me the eye. Matt noticed and when she went to the bar with a friend, he took my arm and dragged me there too.

"Hi," he said, "have you met George?"
"Not yet," she replied, and then Matt walked off. Crazy bugger. But it worked. Her name was Pauline, and by the end of the night she let me take her home.

"Remember what I told you," Matt said, and stuck his tongue out at me.

So I did, when she asked me in for a cuppa.
And in a way Matt was right, you know. When I was going down on her, she pulled my hair and pushed my face against her pelvis with force. I knew this meant trouble, but I thought: what the hell, if she's enjoying it now, she'll have to face it later.

And then she rubbed her clit against my face. Her pubic bone was pressing against my nose bridge, and I felt the hot blood gushing out of my nose again. I nearly chocked, because I had my tongue in her vagina and I my nose was blocked with blood. I coughed, which she seemed to enjoy a lot, and she was rough and I was even rougher.

She came.
"Oh my god," she said when I came up to fuck her. "I'm so sorry!"
"Don't worry," I said, trying to kiss her.
"No it's not," she said. Matt's a bloody liar. "I didn't realise I was in my period."

I tried to explain, but she was too embarrassed to let me finish.
She put on some clothing and ripped the sheets of the bed almost immediately. And then she kicked me out.

Not even a cuppa.

straight sorrow

Like every healthy straight guy, I sometimes find myself thinking life would be easier if I were gay.

After we were finished at the office, my friend Matt and I went to have a drink at his place. Since he’s got a girlfriend, we were soon talking about sex. He says if you’re doing it right, you can get away with anything.
“No really,” he said when I shrugged in disbelief. “If she’s enjoying it, no girl will complain when you get a nosebleed. Sure, if you’ll get all fussy over it, she’ll want you to stop too. But if you just go on fucking her like it’s part of the show, she won’t give a hoot.”

“Of course,” I said. “So, when was the last time you bled on a girl, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Actually,” he said, and winked at Sally, who came in with three cans of Kronenbourg, “the day before yesterday. She punched me when I told her to be rough with me.”

Sally put the cans down and gave me a meaningful look before disappearing to the kitchen again. I grabbed the remote controll and turned up the volume of the tv, so that Sally wouldn’t hear us.

“Tell me, Matt,” I wispered, “how do you make a lady enjoy sex so much that she doesn’t mind any more?”
He laughed. “It’s easy! You just have to lick her for ages.”
“Is that it?” I asked.
“Yeah, tease her. Make her go crazy until she begs you to poke her, and then go on for a bit more before you give her what she wants. And when you stop licking, don’t wipe away the drool. It’s like lube.”

Sally came back in with a three packets of crisps. I grabbed a Real McCoy’s salt and vinegar, my favourites.
“I was just telling George how you like it when I lick you, baby,” Matt explained.
“Do I?” she asked. And then: “Oh yes, I remember now. It’s a shame you don’t do it more often.”
“What are you talking about?” he said indignantly. “I licked you so much last week I had a bruise on my tongue!”

When I had finished my Kronenbourg and crisps they where still arguing about the frequency of Matt giving connulingus.
“Sorry guys,” I said and grabbed my coat. “I’ve got to feed my cat.”
“I can’t believe you don’t remember!” Matt exclaimed. “I’ll give you a good seeing to right now! Bye George, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

But what’s the point in pleasing her now, I wondered, when she won’t even remember you did it as soon as your tongue is healed? It would all be so much easier if I were gay. At least a bloke woulndn’t notice if I had a nosebleed all over his back, until he’s in the shower.