Fuck normalcy.

Well, well. Here I am, again. I still have the same brain, the same body, and I am still alive. But interestingly enough, everything else changes.

Codependence.
Frequent bitchiness.
Hi-strung-edness.
Non-job-edness.
Sex-all-the-time-edness.

Yes, that's right; I am no longer dependent on Boyfriend, whom I am now living with. Normally, I would be frequently bitchy, no matter the situation, I would find a reason to be bitchy. I am only high strung when I am not getting enough sex. I now have a fresh, new job, which I actually enjoy, even though I don't enjoy getting up in the morning for.

And. . . I no longer have sex all the time. This is not a change that I wanted to occur. Boyfriend just decided that it is boring to have sex with me while I'm living with him. If I had known that my sex life would dwindle, I would not have wanted to move in so soon. And I've waited several years to move in with Boyfriend.

now I'm just sleeping with my boyfriend's friend. I was attracted to this friend as soon as I met him. I tried being nice; I just got frustrated and scared (dependent) that I might want to sleep with him, or that I would do something physical or something while I was influenced by herbal remedy. Well, I got tired of pushing him away and being a bitch, because that just isn't me. I was in a funk.

However, I am in another sort of funk, now.

I had Sex Hippie over, initially just to hang out, because I was bored, and I had started trying to be more friendly (as in: not bitchy, not as in: sexual). Unfortunately (or not so unfortunately), we were being very open and honest about life stuff, and perspective, etc., and the things going on in our lives lately. And he casually complimented how my ass looked. And then I told him that I've always been attracted to him. And then he told me he's been attracted to me since I met him.

And then we had more herbal remedy. And then we had alcohol. And then we went to the beach alone, together. We got more beer from a Canadian vacationer, who was settled on a large log, sketching the skyline as the sun was settling into the horizon.

And then I broke a bottle into a large area of sharp, jagged rocks. Then I giggled, and felt alive for the first time in a while. A little less high-strung. A little less bitchy. A little less seat-belted into my life.

And then we both noticed at the same time; an energy between us. I expressed interest in having more alcohol; more herbal remedy. We did not have matches for our cigarettes. We headed down the beach to find someone who had fire. There was a fire someone had been around earlier, when we first walked down the beach. We lit our cigarettes with the still-hot coals. We got the fire going, because it seemed too lucky.

The energy grew, at least in me. The energy sparked, and shot flames into the air. The energy made my belly warm. The energy made me want to attack Sex Hippie. I told him so; in not so many words. I also told him that we should walk back to the car, seeing as how I was thinking naughty thoughts, and I had yet to decide if or what I was going to do about them.

He asked what thoughts I was having. I said I wasn't going to tell. He asked why; I said, "Because then YOU will want to fuck me, too." He laughed. . . I shook inside. I wanted him to fucking tear my clothes off and pull me down onto the beach, onto his cock, into his breath.

Instead, we kept walking, and started talking, hypothetically, about what I might have been thinking, what he might have been thinking, and what we should do about it. After circling each other for a while, he stated: "I wouldn't stop you." I said, "But would you like it?"

We got into the car, smoking our cigarettes, going through round-a-bouts. Energy sparking. My pussy grew wet within my pants. I could smell my sex smell.

When we got closer to home, I said that we could wait until his next day off. Then he said, "It's not even 11pm yet." I said, "Where do you want to go?"

We went to the park; it was closed. We drove up to a bench under a large tree, overlooking the city. It was dark, dark. We grasped at each other. He pushed my shirt up over my breasts. He nuzzled them, nibbled them, caressed them. I reached into his pants, and put my hand around his cock. I massaged it, taking my time. I reached down and cupped his balls in my palm. He grimaced. He pushed me onto my back, on the bench, and yanked my pants off. He put his face into my pussy, groaning.

He got up, stripped down to his boxers, and thrust his cock into my wet pussy. We rocked together. We rocked. He kept telling me I had such a tight, little pussy. I was so hot. He called me baby. He wanted me to come. I came for him. Then I pulled him onto the ground, and got on top of him, and rocked again. We rocked. Then I got down and put his cock in my mouth, licking his balls; cupping his balls and sucking his cock. He said I was going to make him come.

I got back on top of him and made him come.

The day after, he came over to hang out with Boyfriend, and brought some Corona. I got drunk, had more herbal remedy. We exchanged lines that only we would understand, or catch. We flirted with our words, unequivically. They went into the other room to play music. I lay on the carpet and listened to Portishead, loudly, with the bass rumbling the floor.

Sex Hippie came into the room, and asked what I was doing, as I was laying, in my rope, have-exposed on the ground. He came over and touched my back. I arched my back, and he ran his fingers down my spine. He put his arm across my chest, from behind. I arched my back again and ran my fingers through his spiky hair. He nibbled my neck. I moaned softly. He reached into my robe, and rubbed my pussy with two fingers, softly.

He thought Boyfriend had stopped playing. He jumped up. He began playing again. I was sprawled on the ground, my robe open. He spread my legs, and licked my pussy. He put a couple fingers inside. I moaned and lay back, open. He said: "You're so hot." I said: "You make me so hot."

He kept saying, "I gotta go." "I should go." He would get up and then get back down. The last time he got back down, he gripped me with one arm, almost lifting me off the ground, and gently clutched my hair in his hand, and pulled my head back, kissing my neck, telling me how hot I was.

Eventually, I go back to the bedroom where they're playing. I lay in the bed, drunk. I tell them they don't need to stop playing. They eventually go back into the other room. I masturbate, touching myself. I masturbate again. Sex Hippie leaves, after mentioning, while Boyfriend is outside, that we could hook up during his lunch hour, tomorrow.

Fucking hot. Fucking hot.