My Crazy Night Pt. 02

Having a moment for myself, alone at home, I sit down and start to relax. The quietness of the house a sudden change as thoughts about this dreaded year 2020, that will be over soon, pass my mind. How much has changed in such a short time, how many people and friends I haven't seen or met or...spent some fun time with? Instead, I'm sitting at home, reading about all the fun places being closed and trying to keep some social life, at least online. But something's missing. Something deep inside me.

In the neighborhood, some radio starts to play a driving rhythm my body instantly follows. That's one thing I'm dearly missing: The dancing. A packed place, moving to the beats, body parts bumping into each other and hands exploring...Gosh, just thinking about it, going back to the bars and discos in mind stirs something inside, a sudden urge. I let my hands wander a bit, imagining they are a friend's, a bold friend's with a taste for curves in all the right places. Fingers chase my every movement, trying to catch what wants to escape, well, pretending so. What's a good flirt? That's when you can't tell the lure from the fish.

And so, I dance through the hallway, stop in front of the large mirror, watch myself through a stranger's eyes. 'My, look at her. That body! Those moves! That's sex on legs.' I'm a bit flattered by my own thoughts that are inspired by my own sight. Even though my leisurewear hasn't come from the same drawer I keep my sexy stuff in, it still hugs my shape nicely and shows off a large amount of skin. And when I press here, a subtle, most suggestive detail is added to the tank top. And when I touch there, the shade of the shorts' fabric turns a little darker; and just everywhere my skin awakes, as if I was standing outside in the cold of the late winter day. But these goosebumps are the good ones, shivering from the tingling warmth running through me, a mirror of the excitement, anticipating there's more to come.

I raise the glass to the imaginary stranger who just pushed all the right buttons, drink a large gulp and lick my lips, seductively. However, something's missing inside, some good strong 'water' to quench the heat inside of me. But all I have, right now -- is tea! My mood sours a bit. The feeling of exhaustion returns. Is this how birds in a cage feel? Flapping their wings all day long, getting tired of living in the golden castle.

The door to the bedroom at the end of the hallway is open, drawing me near, inviting me in. I feel like a minute or two of rest will help with my acute lassitude, and I give up my resistance to the drag of the tempting doorway. For a moment, I stand in the door frame and take in the view. The neatly made bed with my flimsy nightie on top of the bed cover. A still-life that doesn't want to be disturbed -- if it wasn't for that cheeky fold in the duvet I discover. Such a rebellion against the regime of endless months' fighting the boredom with housekeeping, and somehow this little flaw stirs something inside of me. A picture of rumpled sheets invades my mind, a ragged battleground of a night's bedtime war, soaked with juices spilled in every little victory until the truce of sleep is made.

I step closer to the bed, lay my fingers on the crease and, instead of smoothing it, push it further, raise it into a blanket mound, let it bulge until I can't take the tension any longer, dig in my nails -- and with a swift pull I bring the cover and the blanket down to the floor, exposing the now bare bed sheet. Wow, that feels so good inside, and on the outside too, when I slide myself onto the soft silky material of the sheets. Breathing in, I find something beneath the scent of material, the afterglow of myself sleeping here, turning in my hungry dreams.

Trying to memorize some of the nighttime stories my head produces more and more vividly these days, my eyes finally open after some fruitless minutes and find the drawer beside the bed. There where I keep my 'hot' diary full of memories that happened for real, not just during my dream time. It's just an arm's length away and within a moment it lands on the pillow. Propped up on my arms, I start to flip through the pages, finally stopping on one of the latest written pages.

I realize how long my latest adventure that has been reading through the text and noting the date given.

As I write this today, I have mixed feelings. It happened a few days ago and I thought to share with you, diary, to keep this as a log and learning. Sometimes you do lose control and like someone said, 'The lines get blurred between rules and reality'. Need to figure that out, but yeah...

01-Nov-19: The Date

Once again got drunk and hmm in guilt mode...really thinking why I drink so much sometimes. Well, it happened yesterday, had a girls night out with lots of drinks. The evening was quite fun. It didn't take us long to exchange the latest gossip...

As not much like this has happened since then, the memories of that night return like it was only yesterday. Well, at least that what's stuck to my brain, the moments that stood out. Oh, naughty brain, such words, stand and stick! Mmh, deep down inside myself these simple words arouse a familiar feeling. I like that, a lot. My hushed voice rolls around these words in the otherwise silent room, playing with them, heighten them to 'stand to my attention', 'stick together', 'standing ovations', 'up the st...', oh my, I got myself carried away again. Where was I?

...and for the drinks to make us thirst for presenting us on the dance floor. Showed off lots of my skin, all of my back, and felt superb. The tunes of the club music got us pretty excited and ourselves more than just noticed...

For a moment, I close my eyes and let my mind go back to the disco lights bathing the club in colorful flashes, not as close-packed as on some other days, but still, a large crowd of moving limbs! Ourselves an epicenter somewhere between the bar and the middle of the dance floor, shaking our tit...les and ass...ets for our devotees swooning over the lascivious limber ladies -- that's us. The next line is so characteristic of us.

We were fooling around on the dance floor, giving boners to strangers by just dancing in front of them.

I really miss that, to give them something to watch and drool.

Want to know about my style? Let me turn and sit on the bed first. Well, you start very small; a short glimpse telegraphing them a "Hello, stranger", and just the tiniest wink you can do. Then turn up your smile, a little -- you heard about 'less is more', don't you? -- you might add a lick of your lip if the guy is extra hot.

All the while, your body is already moving with every part in sensuous ways, of course, you add small details. Sending your trigger finger on a tour mapping all the scenic spots of your most delectable physique, will separate the wheat from the chaff of who of the guys will use you only to fulfill only their own needs -- who wants one of those? -- and those who admire, caress and worship every bit of skin and hidden secret a woman has to offer.

Come with me, leave the warm and humid grotto of my mouth, run along the elegant cliff of my chin, slalom down my stretched jaw and throat and enter the dewy valley between the glorious hills lit up in the rising sun of spotlights of the club. Oh, isn't that a most delightful point to stop and take in the sight for an endless moment? Well, at least as until your admirer starts breathing again. Then you double down on your efforts, going around the base of that famous mound, spiraling upwards, destined to its most longed-for peak. And if your fan was one of the respectful ones, not immediately throwing themselves onto you, you make his jaw drop by slowly circling, flicking and rubbing over the soon rock-like mountain top.

Finally, a little pinch to make their little heads explode. Whoa, look, I'm a turn-on for myself. If the bed wasn't that comfortable, I would return to the hallway and watch my reflection getting all hot and bothered.

Girl, go slow! Reading a few more lines will help, for sure.

I was particularly in a backless slit dress... I did already mention "less is more", didn't I? ...and every time my hip touched a boner, I felt like there was a shiver down my fanny.

Ha, not helping in any way, just see my hips sway to these lines completely detached from my brain. My bum gyrating in the confined -- zero! -- space between me and the mattress. The bedsprings are but a poor replacement for the manly hardness my hips are looking for right now. But still, my inner heat condensates in my shorts and asks for more inspiration.

By the time we stopped drinking, I was wet both with my sweat and my horny fanny which made me ask my girlfriends to drop me at my boyfriend's flat. They dropped me there or rather threw me out of the cab and I still remember them yelling "the slut is here" and then I already saw his flatmate coming to the balcony and taking a look at me from above or rather onto my tits while holding his glass of beer.

My boyfriend's flatmate -- mmh, let's call him Tipo, okay? -- is well built and definitely is a gym goer, but he was bulky. He has his roots in Italy and I have always seen him quite moody with his girls from the glimpse that I had during my earlier visits.

When he opened the door, he was in his home shorts, and still holding the glass of beer. There was a shine in his eyes and he greeted me with polite words, "Ciao Jaaz! Grazie!"

Yes, Tipo can be a gentleman -- for a second, haha. I didn't understand why he was thanking me, but even my fogged head could follow his stare down my eye-catching cleavage. In a way, I do understand the guys. I mean, look at me now, even just in my tank top, I cannot resist to place a finger on the hem and see what the shadows hide.

Obviously, my boyfriend wasn't there, and I was in no condition to find home alone. I thought I will just rest for a while and leave. So he helped me down to his bedroom, saying that the couch was dirty and I simply leaned on him in my state...I felt his left hand supporting my buttocks while his right hand was holding me from the front. I vividly remember his fingers feeling my boobs.

Mmh, sneaky fingers. Somehow my hand has absentmindedly gone on a stroll, reenacting what my eyes read. I can still feel where it has shared its warmth with my belly, left a visible trail upwards and is now very fond of being a very pleasant substitute for a bra. It seems to have its own mind as it fuels me with sweet sensations my lower half reacts to instantly, hungry for more of the adventures of my past self.

I was feeling so drunk that the moment I reached his bathroom door by the bedside I had a feeling that I am gonna throw...and I did...right on my top...and had to ask for a towel from his flatmate. He said that I could change and he would put my dress in the washing machine. I removed the dress, gave it back to him and went back to the washbasin to splash some water on my face.

The mistake that I made was that I left the door open, and I was topless...I felt someone advancing me from behind...and starting to finger me. I thought it was my boyfriend. I was soooo wet and primed for him!

Sometimes -- well, let's be honest, often -- I let myself get carried away by the moment. Just like now as my own writing has such a stimulating effect on myself and my subconscious mind playing tricks on me. Stopping reading for a moment, I glance down and find my unemployed hand busy in my shorts. Like a bad boy, it took advantage of my distracted mind and responded to the call of my body in need. A few more millimeters. Oh please, diary, stop my madness.

But then I realized it's much thicker fingers and of course...it's my boyfriend's flatmate...Tipo, the Italian dude. I resisted at first, slapped his cheeky hand, but yeah I admit, it was the pleasure, my drinks and well, I gave in within 5-6 minutes and just thought it's another fuck, what to lose?

Yeah, what to lose? My inhibition, for instance, sending a finger into the boiling mess all my notes have turned me into. Or my dignity, enjoying myself -- hey, it's just one slender finger! Completely innocent, not like that thick, lewd Italian digit digging into my quivering core. Or my mind as a moan echoes in the empty room, bringing me back to the here and now.

He is most definitely a 9 incher and ate me like hell...I think he did me 2-3 times for two or three hours, no track of time...and then he asked me, "When did you have your period?"...I was so drunk, but I remember that I told him that I had my period some 18 days ago and not to cum inside. It was all in the middle of it, he removed his condom and filled me at least twice...I asked him not to, but I gave in, shit...is that a safe period?...don't know. All I remember was my heavy moaning...and running across rooms.

Fingers running around my sweet spot, I lose control for a minute which is enough to let me forget about the diary, time, space, and the neighbors. For some moments, the room is filled to the brim with a lot of me, my sounds, my scent, my convulsions. Closed eyelids open slowly as a smile explodes and the world reappears before my eyes.

Well, now that I am in senses, I think that's a real issue for me...I can never explain Italian mix breed to my family...Will the pills work? Never took them recently. I took some, maybe 4-5 years ago but not for very long. Always maintained discipline.

Hehe, discipline, such a, um, slippery word, isn't it? You know, a drink doesn't really help with pronouncing it the proper way, and many drinks let your tongue completely forget its very existence. Such a discrepancy between sober and totally drunk, haha.

Well, dear diary, there's a part which I kind of omitted -- out of discretion only, honestly! -- or I wasn't sure what you would think of me. But the clarity of the fading afterglow helps to restore some details of that crazy night which already make my body tingle again.

After the first two fucks, I was absolutely in my realm, swimming on a wave of total bliss. And that rascal Tipo, of course, kept offering me vodka. "Only a little one, bella," he said each time. I was so in my dreams and once I got filled, twice, I was like in a trance...so I asked him to leave me alone for an hour or so and then I would head for home.

But then, I vividly remember, his doorbell ringing, you can't believe how painfully loud those things can be when you just try to relax. I recall Tipo was having an argument with someone for some money that he owed to that guy.

And then suddenly, the guy on the door had a sneak a peek at me in the bedroom and he came near me while completely ignoring Tipo who tried to block his way. My mind was still fogged, but I saw him biting his lips and heard him asking Tipo, "So, who is she?"

What came next upset me, it still does even now. Tipo's reply, so very nonchalantly, non-gentlemanly, so argh!!!

"Oh, I got her from the corner for 50 bucks."

Can you believe that? Golly gosh, I was furious, hopping mad even. How can he speak about me, a respectable lady, and tell someone that I am a hooker? If I hadn't been so exhausted and drunk, I would have slapped him and let him see stars.

But then the unthinkable happened. Tipo's friend, who he borrowed the money from, said he would forget his money if he could have a go...at me. Tipo was thinking about that offer for some long moments, mostly for a show I think, and finally came up with a lame, "But only once!" What? Did the drunk lady have no voice in this? Well, not that I could have articulated even half a sentence that moment...

I remember his friend turning me on my belly and opening his trousers, not as hung as Tipo, and hey boy, what happened to 'foreplay'? He held both my hands and just started to drill me, still more than wet from before...but, umm, to be honest, I was all red and furious, but then it felt like a thrilled fuck like a hooker. A wicked stimulus in this moment, so overwhelming, it made me miss out on complaining he should care about the rest of the lady as well -- who has so much more to offer.

He was thrusting like out of mind and, of course, it didn't take long for Tipo's friend to finish, not like the two times before with Tipo who took his time. But apparently, he wasn't finished yet and "only once" was already gone with the wind. While I sank onto the bed spent, sweaty and stuffed with both their warm fluids, the two guys started to discuss again.

"Whoa, that was hot. Hey, want to make some extra cash?"

"What's on your mind?"

"You know, my two friends from the plumbing company are looking for some fun too. Hadn't had their pipes worked for some time. He, he," which made my eyes roll, the bad wordplay reflex of every female kicking in. "We share fifty-fifty, hu?"

But Tipo was a strong negotiator, must be the genes, and the deal was sealed at 70-30. I should bring him to my next salary negotiation, but well, contemplating about that, maybe not, who knows how that would end.

The first guy came a bit early -- in a sense of arriving, not... -- and handed over his money to Tipo. He made me bend in a doggy position and started humping me.

He was already picking up speed when the second guy joined in. He almost ripped his zip and just put his dick in my hand, closed my fingers and set my hand into motion, as if I needed instruction! That seemed to inspire Tipo's other friend, who Tipo didn't owe money now anymore! He climbed onto the bed as well and put his recovered cock in my other hand. The rest is mostly blurred, but I guess you can draw a picture for yourself, don't you?

Much later, I found myself home, every fiber of my body tired, stretched and rubbed, sticky and so satisfied.

The thing is I didn't tell hubby about it and well, I didn't wipe my play after the evening. My hubby did bang me though yesterday in that sport. I don't know why, but I found it exciting. I don't know what that makes me?

Biting my lip, I replay that question in my mind. With the distance of a year between now and then, this very special year, I wonder who was I, who am I now. Am I a wild one, because I like to play a bit outside the norms? Adventurous, because I'm seizing the opportunity others miss? What is it that I'm missing today?

To be honest, it felt good. My hubby was like, "Hmm, it's so moist. What happened?" and I said to him .."It's your love. I don't know."

Is this it? The love, their love inside me, that makes me feels so good?

03-Nov-19: Doctor update

Why can't you get an immediate doc appointment when you want one?

Yeah, went to my doc. Told her that hubby did it out of passion and unprotected and got some pills. She was like, "Hmm, use protection and all."

Well, I am very fit and I do maintain an exercise routine hence my period always comes at the right time. However this time something was off, I thought it was the stress maybe. The next lines fly by and I relive the concerns and doubts in my writing.

Realized it's almost four days late which has never happened before. Started making back plans. How many days earlier did it happen? I admit I also said to hubby that he did me on ovulation days which he had no idea about and all I saw was a puppy look in his eyes...