30-F-London Blog Feed

Hello?

noreply@blogger.com (30-F-London) — Sat, 28 Apr 2012 09:17:00 +0000

Well hello there...

Long time no see.

Ghosts of Boyfriends Past

noreply@blogger.com (30-F-London) — Wed, 20 Jul 2011 07:03:00 +0000

Ghosts of Boyfriends Past

Within the last twenty four hours I have had three visits from boyfriends past. Well, not exactly visits, and not exactly boyfriends, from more would-be boyfriends past:

1) The crush, I mean THE crush from University, with his wife, does it say more that I recognised her first (from his Facebook of course) - hmmmmm...

2) Mr Bugs crossing the road, as I was on a bus.

3) Sharing a tube carriage with Mr Saucy Ex-Colleague, I would have caught his eye had I not just had an brow and lip wax, I couldn't quite be sure how glowing my face still was...

Why now? Is it a sign? Is there such a thing as coincidence?

Kiss Kiss Bang Bang

I didn't need to climax anyway...

noreply@blogger.com (30-F-London) — Mon, 25 Apr 2011 09:13:00 +0000

The moment I see him I am reminded of the flinch. I sit on my sofa, and we decide to watch a DVD, except half way through it is obvious that he isn't enjoying it. He thought I wanted to watch it. Are we STILL doing that. Assuming what makes the other happy. When did it become so difficult. We go to sleep without having sex. I attempted to initiate something and got nothing. Just as I was dropping off, I think he must have thought the same.

In the middle of the night, I awoke to find a semi-erect penis in my back. We had really animalistic sex, hard and heavy. He came, rolled over. I said to myself "it's okay, I didn't need to climax anyway...", and then to my surprise, I said it out loud. He didn't respond. I asked him to be gone by the time I woke up.

Come morning, he was gone.

noreply@blogger.com (30-F-London) — Sat, 23 Apr 2011 17:00:00 +0000

The whiskey still playing havoc with my head. We go for a toasty brunch and talk about us. There isn't anything to say, anything more to say. Cue broken record. He surprises me. He states - "I obviously like having sex with you". The only response that escapes my mouth is a slightly sarcastic "thank you..".

As we return to mine, we are both warmer to each other, being slumped on the sofa, we cuddle up and of course mutual nakedness happens. It feels raw and real. For the first time in a long time, I feel lost in it.

The flinch

noreply@blogger.com (30-F-London) — Sat, 23 Apr 2011 10:00:00 +0000

We go to a new bar near mine. I look great, not just by my standards, those around me. I feel great. I go to kiss him and he flinches. Everything shatters. My confidence, my feelings, my tear ducts. I keep it together. Just. Around TWO hours of polite conversation goes by. I say anything not to cry, I pseudo-smile at his jokes. He knows something is wrong, but can't/won't/doesn't ask. I have a coffee with a whiskey hammered into it.

Warm whiskey makes me feel loved. I ask him why we are doing 'this'? Why the fuck do we continue to pretend to be a couple, I'm not even allowed to touch him.

Condoms II

noreply@blogger.com (30-F-London) — Tue, 19 Apr 2011 09:04:00 +0000

No, conversation not over. After some part-conversations on the matter, and now all that was on my mind was 'just the tip', he firmly thought and had it drummed into him that it was the gentleman's (his choice of word) responsibility for contraception. How sweet. I think.

After some more prompting, gentle promting

He asked "wasn't it the man that was meant to be hassling about unprotected sex?"

*Awkward silence*

Condoms

noreply@blogger.com (30-F-London) — Mon, 18 Apr 2011 06:00:00 +0000

Condoms.

I mentioned that I packed condoms, that said, last night in bed, I mentioned that I was on the pill (for medical reasons dahling) and perhaps we could try intercourse without the slight interruption of pausing to put on a condom. I think I used the word 'organic' and made a hand gesture normally reserved for spiritual leaders. He said he wouldn't be comfortable with it. Conversation over.

A quick recap: at the beginning of the Last Chance we talked about sexual health and were both tested.

The toothbrush

noreply@blogger.com (30-F-London) — Thu, 07 Apr 2011 14:45:00 +0000

QB: By the way you left your toothbrush at my house again.

30: I think you'll find I didn't leave it there again as it was only left the once. I was going to ask if I could stay at yours tonight but as the occupation of the small plastic thingymagic for oral hygiene is causing such a disturbance I think I'll pass.

QB: Okay how about: you left your toothbrush at my house still. Your toothbrush has caused untold problems at Chez QB. The sheer weight of it on the bathroom windowsill caused the windowsill itself to buckle under the pressure causing lightning bolt cracks, nay, chasms, to appear on the wall 2 metres long... [the silliness continues for a further few paragraphs...] And all because of a small plastic thingymagic for cleaning teeth.

30: I'm assuming that my toothbrush is now in the bin and has stopped causing problems.

QB: No, the toothbrush is buried somewhere in the chaos - I haven't been able to set a foot in the bathroom!

30: Don't give me that. Like I don't know that the chaos was caused by you in fact putting on a hazard suit (think Back to the Future) and trying to 'handle' the plastic thingymagig used for my oral hygiene. *tsk*. It's only a toothbrush and not even my favourite one. It's not even my favourite travel one.

QB asks if he should bring my toothbrush to our next date. I inform him again that as it's a travelling toothbrush, a spare, bought at an airport and perhaps I could leave it at his? This is not his preferred option.

On the one hand, it's only a toothbrush, on the other - it's only a fucking toothbrush.

Next weekend...

noreply@blogger.com (30-F-London) — Wed, 06 Apr 2011 07:17:00 +0000

We are going away for the weekend, next weekend, I'm avoiding emails that start with "about next weekend...".

It's meant to be a casual getaway. I think that the pressure of the weekend is simmering away. Aaaarrrggggggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

I have packed a saucy suitcase of clothes, lube and condoms.

Happy birthday Quiet Boy xxx

noreply@blogger.com (30-F-London) — Mon, 04 Apr 2011 21:01:00 +0000

It's QB's birthday during the week. I want to celebrate with him, he thinks he has plans with family, so maybe another night?

I get given the weekend before to celebrate with him. Hooray! The weekend at his is spent lovingly with treats, presents and birthday blow jobs. I love being able to give him a spontaneous blow job and that's without it being his birthday.

On the Sunday morning, we're on the sofa. I ask if his neighbours can see in through the window. He didn't think so. I demand to give him a blow job. He looks as if doesn't want to say anything to jinx the moment, and makes some rather odd facial expressions usually seen on a silent movie star. He wedges his hips and goes to loosen his jeans...

I stop him.

I slowly undo his flies right down to the last button and open the top of his jeans, and slowly find the button holding together the slip in his boxers. He mutes the television, and although it heightens the atmosphere, it's unlike him to be so intense.

By the time his, now, extremely hard penis reaches my mouth, the pre-cum immediately hits my taste buds, he worriedly states he is going to ejaculate, now. I continue. The inevitable happens.

Happy birthday Quiet Boy xxx

Perfect Date?

noreply@blogger.com (30-F-London) — Tue, 22 Mar 2011 03:12:00 +0000

Amazing date. Perfect. Quiet Boy arrived with a rose, the whole evening proved step-by-step that he could be comfortable outside his comfort zone.

The night ended with a kiss, an anxious, little tongue to start developing to full-blown passionate face-eating. He walked me to the station, took my hand, kissed it goodnight. Perfection.

Tonight's the night

noreply@blogger.com (30-F-London) — Mon, 21 Mar 2011 13:25:00 +0000

Our first first (first first) date is this evening, Quiet Boy has suggested a perfect evening for me. Tailored for me, so much so, I am starting to doubt he will enjoy it. I'm not adverse to finishing the night in bed but it will have to organically happen.

Wakey wakey

noreply@blogger.com (30-F-London) — Sun, 20 Mar 2011 06:04:00 +0000

Horny as fuck.

I wake up wet with my clit pulsating. Where have all the casual fucks gone? A gay friend tells me of Grinder...

Will investigate.

Are we treating this as a first date?

noreply@blogger.com (30-F-London) — Sat, 19 Mar 2011 17:46:00 +0000

Two hours before our big date and I get a crappy email asking 'Are we treating this as a first date?'. What the fuck?! Isn't that what was discussed. Properly starting again, with wooing and courtship.

I don't respond.

Formspring: Super powers and keeping calm

noreply@blogger.com (30-F-London) — Sun, 13 Mar 2011 19:04:00 +0000

More Formspring:

If you could have a super power, what would it be?

Not to ever need sleep. Energy would be my power.

Finish this parodical sentence: "Keep Calm and _________"

Make Love... (failing that "pop the kettle on")

Formspring: Comments

noreply@blogger.com (30-F-London) — Sun, 13 Mar 2011 18:54:00 +0000

More Formspring:

What is your criteria for approving posts on your blog? Sometimes I think I've really made a good, relevant (and sometimes witty) comment, but it never show up?

No criteria - I've published all that have come through (the reason I 'approve' them was only to stop continuous automated spam) - so unless you have medication and/or penis extensions to sell, comment away!

Formspring: Let's get up to speed

noreply@blogger.com (30-F-London) — Sun, 13 Mar 2011 18:48:00 +0000

I had forgotten all about Formspring, I liked the idea of open questioning, except sometimes it asks for a black or white answer on a particularly grey subject.

Here's a quick recap of a couple questions I answered last year:

If you had access to a time machine, where and when would be the first place you travel to?

I'm obsessed with my family history. I would love to see my grandparents as courting couples.

Describe your perfect cock?

The perfect cock, is like the perfect man. Trying to describe him impossible. You think you want tall and along comes a short one. You think you want muscle and in walks a bean pole. You think you want long, luscious locks and in comes a skinhead. And so on. I like a cock that has attitude, stands to attention, tastes good. Above all? Be my alarm cock in the morning. Nothing like waking up to a hard penis, resting in the small of one's back.

I now have eighteen and some questions waiting...

Last night with my little friend

noreply@blogger.com (30-F-London) — Sun, 13 Mar 2011 17:12:00 +0000

So what, my period arrived? In reality I had booked the evening as an excuse to have a night of debauchery - surely that doesn't have to be planned a month in advance - and does fancy dress have to be involved?

I nearly cried in frustration when my period said hello yesterday evening, I needn't have worried. I had a delicious evening of watching, peeking and enjoying the atmosphere. I always forget evenings such as this, the moment I step through the front door, I feel at home.

Of course falling into the hotel room in the very early hours of this morning, I was alone, but that suited my mood, and of course I was so very aroused that only after three ladyplays did I sleep.

Bring on the debauchery!

Say hello to my little friend

noreply@blogger.com (30-F-London) — Sat, 12 Mar 2011 20:20:00 +0000

Until an hour ago, I was excited about my planned evening/night/morning of debauchery. I had spent the afternoon being coiffed, manicured, massaged and was left feeling relaxed, horny, adventurous, excited, until an hour ago. Dressed in a mainly patterned rubber costume and my period arrived.

Talk about timing.

Tonight will now be about looking not touching.

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Dirty Weekend

noreply@blogger.com (30-F-London) — Fri, 11 Mar 2011 12:09:00 +0000

I've been planning this weekend for the last month. A night of sexual adventure. Take one (non-judgmental, trusting, horny) friend, add a costume that reveals almost as much as it covers, book a hotel and start listing fantasies to be fulfilled by strangers.

What about Quiet Boy? I'm still thinking about him/his penis/the situation/more of his penis. I still remember what his cock tastes like.

We've not had our 'first' date yet, and I honestly think he won't be able to give in to his inner fears and actually have and be in a working, functional relationship. Is this a case of me giving him enough rope to hang himself? And not in a sexy-auto-erotic-asphyxiation-kind-of-way...!

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Tree Stump

noreply@blogger.com (30-F-London) — Wed, 09 Mar 2011 12:58:00 +0000

My mood is more romantic than Gumtree could potentially offer anyway...! Not that the power that is Gumtree and alike would have such bad behaviour allowed!

It was actually this postsecret that warmed my cockles:

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Craig's Lust

noreply@blogger.com (30-F-London) — Wed, 09 Mar 2011 12:49:00 +0000

When did Gumtree and Craig's List stop allowing clandestine encounters to be advertised? According to the Washington Post - last September. What have I been doing with my time?! I'll get to that... All in good time.

I'm guessing the Craigslist killer can't have helped things. That said, if I were to come to a tragic-sex-fuelled-end I'm sure I would prefer some internet evidence to be available for police to find than than none.. Hey ho...

Harrumph... As Gumtree and Craig's List no longer offer sit-on-my-face-go-on-you-know-you-want-to adverts, where do the discerning public go for such disconcerting activities?

Not changing the subject completely - why is it that NO ONE ever asks where you met your new beau IF it happened to be on the most romantic bridge in London - let's go with the Millennium Bridge (yeah I know Tower Bridge would be the obvious choice here), with the backdrop of a beautiful sunset, when you locked eyes, you both just *pause for dramatic effect* knew...

YET when you both met after responding to a sexually-inclined-advert in some shady forum, it's the FIRST THING anyone asks.

WHY?!

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Mad Love

noreply@blogger.com (30-F-London) — Tue, 08 Mar 2011 22:01:00 +0000

"Insanity: doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results."
Albert Einstein

This quote is going around in my head as I agree to give Quiet Boy a last chance. Not last change. Final chance. This. Is. The. Final. Chance. For. Us.

I feel harder this time, I feel like I can control the situation. In the pit of my stomach, I know I am fooling myself. I never stopped loving him, so how can I stop falling in love with him again? D'oh!

We have a 'first' date planned. Somebody shoot me.

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Do Not Disturb

noreply@blogger.com (30-F-London) — Thu, 02 Dec 2010 09:43:00 +0000

c/o http://failblog.org/2010/12/01/epic-fail-photos-oddly-specific-door-knockers

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The plain torturous one

noreply@blogger.com (30-F-London) — Wed, 01 Dec 2010 19:36:00 +0000

I'm not sure where to begin... We (the PTO and I) had shared texts and were due to meet for a mid-week drink.

The night before: My phone beeped, proudly announcing a new text message. Thinking it would be from my date-to-be confirming details. It wasn't. It was from Quiet Boy - "Thirty, I miss you." Four words I had never thought I would hear from him. Coldly and quickly I responded - "I think it's a case of too little, too late".

That afternoon: I didn't want to do too much pre-date-internet-scrouring, just enough to make sure he wasn't a and that he could spell... The last person he had mentioned in a Facebook post was directed towards an ex-lover of mine - The One That Got Away.

I couldn't breathe.

The signs were obvious, I shouldn't meet this man.

Though with an hour before we were due to meet, I thought it too rude too cancel, but I was shaking. I had a peppermint tea and hid in the staff room for ten minutes until I felt calmer. Two coffees and a G&T, I felt even more calm, to the point of cocky.

The drinks were good, the pub was nice, the conversation flowed. After a couple of drinks though, I started to feel uncomfortable, not with the date but I was completely overwhelmed with both Quiet Boy and The One That Got Away taking up valuable space in the forefront of my mind.

My date said he was enjoying my company and we should perhaps stay for another. I was flattered, and after two more drinks, drunk.

The alcohol was helping, I felt better, I felt more in control, though ironically I was less in control.

I asked PTO if we would see each other again, he said "sure". I needed to see him sober, I felt like I was in a daydream. We'll see each other again, I can finish this drink and leave with some dignity. Although when those two drinks finished, I said I was too tipsy to have anything more to drink. He suggested getting some food. We did, which only encouraged more drinking.

I should have been pushy, all I wanted to do was go home yet I had forgotten how to be demonstratively assertive. At this point, I was completely pissed. I was repeating myself and found it difficult to not have a idiotic gaze on my face, and of course, had to relieve my bladder every fifteen minutes.

We kissed outside the pub, and as he walked me to the station. All I could think was would The One That Got Away be jealous? The deranged thoughts of a drunkard..

Luckily, the next morning, I received a message from PTO, saying that as delightful as my company was (after that much to drink it certainly couldn't have been), he didn't 'feel' it. What a fucking relief. Although I think I was still intoxicated, as I didn't feel slightly rejected for at least another day.

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