Irish

A few days after Rotisserie Chicken & the start of a New year, I need some new sex memories to erase all the shit sex I had last year. I start talking to this guy online who was Irish who seems pretty cool, he’s a few years younger than me, but I’m a sucker for a accent so I think he’ll hopefully be better than the last.

I invite him over fairly late, I’m still on holidays from work so it doesn’t matter about the time. He asks if he can wear casual clothes (Why do men keep asking what they should wear to my house?!), which I laugh at but tell him I’m in my pyjamas, he hopes that they are sexy pyjamas & I say yes. Why do I say yes? I don’t really have sexy pyjamas. I rummage around in my pyjama draw while Irish makes his way to my house. I find one nighty thing that I’ve hardly ever worn that is like a baby doll dress, low cut lacy bra cups & just a black bottom – I think I bought this nightie thing for Cruise/Cruise#2. I decide to put a bra on too so that I feel like my boobs aren’t sagging.

I invite Irish in & we go straight to my bedroom, he sits on the side edge of my bed telling me about his knee surgery. I think how is this guy going to have sex, he still had bandages on. He tells me how much he likes what I’m wearing & he doesn’t try to undress me, it’s hot & it gives me more confidence as I’m less self conscious especially being on top because of his knees, about how my body looks because he can’t see my imperfections, my thighs or tummy, so I can push him down & have sex my way, I take charge & feel amazing. It’s probably the best I’d ever been (up until that point at least) in bed, because usually I am so concerned about how I look that I don’t often offer to get on top.

A few weeks later Irish texts me again to try & catch up telling me how good the sex was, I agree with him but for some reason I never see him again, I can’t actually remember what happened with this guy, but I never saw him again… This is why I needed a blog few years ago!

#IBD4U