You never think it will happen to you, you are not going to become ‘that’ guy, you know the type, twisting himself in knots, going out of his mind reduced to a babbling drooling fool all because of some woman. Well my friends I am here to tell you it happened to me, and if it can happen to me, hell it can happen to anyone.
I’m young, healthy, fit, fairly attractive, I’m not that guy off the Quafe commercials all the women would kill to slurp the drink off his rock hard abs, but I do take care of myself. I’ve had my ups and downs when it comes to the dating scene which unfortunately includes getting pretty wasted and shall we say lowering one's standards significantly, however that is not the problem in this cautionary tale in fact quite the opposite. My latest conquest is a legitimate five star, 12 out of 10, total utter knock out. I don’t have a fixed type but I know what I like and man do I like her, for starters she has a body that has to be seen to be believed. These days with the clothing that's out there a woman can sucker you in by looking stunning but when you peel back the wrapping paper you find it’s all window dressing, bits of her are no longer in the place they were advertised previously and other parts seem to have grown in size dramatically at some point during the evening when you weren’t paying attention. Not this girl however, even completely, utterly, unashamedly naked she has a body that reduces me to animalistic noises in my attempts to describe it, just uuuuhhhhhh. Even better she has a devilishly naughty mind and brains to boot which seals the deal, after all I think we can all agree it's pointless having a shiny looking spaceship if you then scrimp on the fitting and it performs like shit.
Anyway back to wonder woman, and how she drove me crazy. Things were going great and I mean thought I’d died and found paradise great I’m not going into the details because I’d end up spending hours fixated on what she does with her tongue! Safe to say I had never had it so good. Problem is as I stated before she’s easily a 12 out of 10, even at my modest 7 that leaves a whole host of wiggle room and that makes a guy nervous. In a more shall we say balanced coupling by definition you don’t constantly feel you have anything to prove, there is no waiting for the inevitable moment she finds someone more in her own league. Feeling inferior in your intimate relationships is tiring work! You translate every communication as an ultimatum, finding problems that probably don’t even exist. She says she hasn’t seen enough of you, suddenly you’re clingier than a moist body glove, seeing too much of you and the next few nights you agonise into the small hours whether to message her if she hasn’t messaged you, will she message you? Is she messaging someone else? It is nerve shredding stuff. Luckily it became clear very quickly that there was only one area I had to focus scoring points in and that was the daunting arena of physical contact. Don’t get me wrong she appreciated swanky restaurants, flowers and romantic gestures, but I knew the real scoring occurred post sweaty, screaming session.
The points scoring system however that is a beast all unto itself, and most likely completely made up in my head with nothing to do with her whatsoever. Session time is a factor, but this isn’t a marathon or last man standing event, there needs to be substance, short sharp stabs of ecstasy that keeps both of you honest and not just going through the motions. Think sets at the gym, you want good intense reps but you are never satisfied with just the one go on the machine. Variation comes next, both of location and technique, the ability to surprise and to work in a confined space are definite bonus’ however do your homework you never want to come strutting into the room wearing just your smile or swinging your pants round your head to find she has invited her parents over for a chat! Finally never, ever talk about it, communication in relationship is healthy but asking after her sexual preferences is like using an autopilot system for you spaceship it is both lazy and indicates you don’t have a clue where you are going.
Back on track with the story, things seemed great, I was scoring major points in all areas, or at least that is what i told myself, but the effort of scoring all those points was taking it’s toll. She continued to be her awesome self, as naughty, noisy and amazing as ever but I felt my performance was slipping and if I continued to not perform I wouldn’t be able to keep her. I didn’t have a choice, I couldn’t tell her I wanted to slow down, what kind of man holds his hands up and says “sorry darling you're too much woman for me give the little man a rest before you ride it off!” That's how I found myself cold, scared and very much alone in a dark back alley trying to score some little pick me up pills for the main man. I had never done this before, never needed to, was an area I knew absolutely nothing about I’d just heard a rumour from a friend of mine I was to ask for blue pills. Turns out these things are apparently illegal, hence the dodgy locale and me feeling like I was going to be jumped and my organs sold for profit within the hour. I approached the first disreputable man I clapped eyes on but he didn’t have any, he pointed me in the general direction of where I might get some. The next guy along hooked me up. God! They were expensive, I pressed him for details and he looked at me like I was crazy. I told him I really needed them to make a difference and he offered me the strongest of the one’s he had to sell. Isk changed hands and he babbled something about a 30 minute duration, a sense of relaxation and euphoria and maybe something about possible side effects before he was off like a rocket.
Two hours later i’m naked in front of the mirror slapping myself across the chest working myself up and getting my game face on. She’d come over about an hour ago and something was up, I could just sense it, we normally just clicked, like two pieces of a gear that just fit together and rumble on. Tonight it was slow, slightly forced, just not in synch. Thus when the time came for us inevitably to get it on I got her worked up before stealing away to the bathroom to swipe the pills. For some reason I’m standing there shaking like a leaf in the wind, a palm full of these things in the flat of my hand, wondering how many to take. My first thought was literally, go big or go home, and being in the relatively unlucky position of already being at home, I downed the whole lot, relaxation and fucking euphoria here we come! Back into the bedroom, damn she looks amazing, the thin bed sheets while covering her modesty accentuate her nudity, defining her curves perfectly. Did I say she looked good? By the time I make it to the foot of the bed all 3 of her looked fantastic! The last thing I remember, to my infinite shame, is for some reason stopping at the foot of the bed looking down at my little guy and being confused at him still being definitely little. I slapped him, across the head informing him “come on big guy it’s game time.” Before I leaned forward, kept leaning forward and pitched unconscious down the side of the bed with a hard smack against the floor of my quarters.
Ouch! A fall of any length when you are unconscious is painful, especially if you are naked at any point during the falling. At the point you remember you were naked, and the fact you don’t remember getting yourself to the medical centre, you realise some stranger has likely seen the pale white of your ass. As my other set of cheeks reddened I cast a squinted eye around the room, My whole body ached but my soul soared when I saw her still unbelievably beautiful form curled up into a tiny ball trying to sleep in a chair next to the bed. Either the chair was uncomfortable or we had some secret sensory link I was unaware about because as I woke up she came around as well. She pounced on me, the tirade of being a stupid idiot and her leaving me was in fact her telling me she loved me ten times, TEN times, I know, I recount them frequently when I replay this moment. Each profession of love interspersed by a mash of her lips against mine. I must have looked as confused as I felt because when she finally calmed down and pulled back far enough to take in the slack, very relaxed, slightly euphoric picture of my whole face she asked me what was wrong. With a heaving sigh which hurt parts of me which definitely had no known attachment to my lungs I confessed I was worried we were not ok, that our usual flawless ability to click had begun to slip. She looked slightly embarrassed at that, head bowed she struggled to look at me as she began her own confession.
Turns out she was worried of admitting I was too much man for her, that our daily sessions were making her sore and I would look elsewhere to fulfill my ‘insatiable physical urges’. Well my jaw hit the floor for the second time that evening, I told her what I thought had been the problem and we laughed it off easily enough. Turns out it only took a booster overdose for me to realise that communication scores all the points, thus from now on I have vowed two things. Firstly I will never ever take another blue pill as long as I live and secondly I am inside my woman’s mind at least as often as I am in, well, any other part of her.
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