Me? Moody Bitch?

…..but yesterday…..God I was a bitch! I felt angry with everyone and everything including me! So, I stopped interacting with my head chef (and apologised profusely) and went home, and sat down with a calendar. Had I not been pregnant, I would be on today. Hmm…I wonder if this moodiness is in place of a period? Either way…..as I said WHAT a bitch! 

I was cross with Emily for being away, cross with Dani for pursuing her life’s dream, cross with myself for paying for her to do so, and generally feeling hideous. Nothing that usually pleases me pleased me. Well, you get the idea. 

So, for absolutely no reason whatsoever, I stomped off up to the top of the house where (I think I’ve mentioned this before) there is a small domed observatory. It was in a state when I moved in, but I’ve had it renovated and now the roof rotates as it should, it opens and doesn’t leak anymore. There is also a telescope in it. I am a ‘mooney’. I love looking at the moon through the ‘scope. But even standing there looking at a job well done didn’t cut it. Oh dear. 

On the way down the stairs, even Miss Brain had had enough of me and slapped me firmly round the face, and made me walk dressed only in a dress out of the kitchen door and into the sun-zero icebox that is my courtyard, and fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck! but it was cold out there. My nipples crunched up hard in a microsecond and I felt a sting between my legs indicating that, as usual of late, I was wet…wetter than I thought I was….ah, but then the contentious discussions I’d had (utterly unjustifiably) with my head chef makes me wet. Combative situations always do. (I have to go back and eat large amounts of humble pie later. I was unforgivably rude, and I’m very cross with myself about it. This isn’t me.) 

So, shivering, hard nipples, and cold crotch, a memory was served to me on a nice silver platter by Miss Brain. “Do you remember the time when you had just discovered panty-wetting, and you did it, in winter, in your parent’s courtyard, and realised your mistake only afterwards? That stain in the snow? Do you remember how horny it felt though? The guilt trip actually enhanced the feeling?” Oh yes, I remember now. In fairness, it wasn’t all sexual. I’d made the wrong decision about attempting to get home without visiting the restroom first, mainly because there was a huge queue at all three restrooms of girls who weren’t prepared to risk it, and I had thought ‘fuck that, it’s only about a mile. I’ll make it’. And I hadn’t. The desperation was intense, and every crunchy step on the snow made it worse. Although I simply couldn’t hold on another minute, I hadn’t really peed for sexual purposes, but, I admit, it did turn out that way. 

But even the thought of panty-peeing didn’t make me want to do it. 

So, back indoors….where, usually, a to-die-for mug of hot chocolate would be waiting and wasn’t….grrrrr! 

Oh this is fucking ridiculous. Dress off and crumpled at my feet. Panties down, off and in my hand, and a naked warm by the fire. I flipped down on my couch, and like a train, the memory of Alison sitting on the floor at the other end of the couch burst into my head. I remembered her hand undoing her jeans and slipping down inside. I remembered in microscopic detail watching her Jill herself to orgasm, and then I remembered the very first time I touched her, and she touched me. There was something so deliciously innocent about it…almost like two castaways marooned on a desert island, finding comfort in one another, even though they’re related. 

My eyes closed and I remembered as if she were there, her scent, the feel of her and her taste. I remembered one particular ‘snapshot’ where Ali was lying flat on her back, her panties around one thigh (she hadn’t even taken them off completely) and me buried between her legs, my bum in the air. My tongue on Ali’s clit and my right hand between my legs. I remembered her lifting her bum off my bed as her orgasm approached and my tongue slipping inside her. I recalled her contractions, as she held my head close to her and came in my mouth. 

How does one truly describe an orgasm? Mine feel so wildly different. All strong, to be sure, but they have a myriad of different flavours, from earth-shattering, to mild and gentle like thunder rolling away into the distance. I remembered every detail of Alison cumming into my mouth, her gasps and moans, her convulsions, and the little squirts of….well, looking back I have no doubt some were girl cum, but some were pee as well. 

Some folk are repulsed by the idea of someone peeing in your face, let alone your mouth, but hear me out on this. Pee is 100% sterile. And to make someone cum so hard and so completely that they trust you enough to allow themselves to just loose control of themselves is the highest of privileges.

You know, I remember a friend I had a brief fling with. We were both, oh..gosh…16ish? I was experienced at sex with girls, but she wasn’t. In fact, she wasn’t that experienced at sex with herself. She told me the only time she would even come close to completely giving herself to an orgasm was in the bath. Why? Because like so many girls, the first time she had made herself cum, she had peed her panties. She was 15, and like many of us, had got into the habit of masturbating when she got home from school. Nothing special…..just a hand down the panties and a ‘feel good’. But again like so many of us, that ‘feel good’ grew each time until that about-to-cum/pee feeling roared into the station and one day, simply couldn’t be stopped and she had cum, standing up and peed her panties. Since then, she was terrified of allowing herself to simply give in to an orgasm.

That’s not to say all girls pee when they cum, we don’t. I don’t. It’s just that our urethras are short, and cumming affects everything down there. The thing is though, and you can ask any boy who remembers his early ‘dry cum’ days, when something comes out of you when you cum it really enhances the feeling. The Lovely Chris told me that he had many dry cums when he started to masturbate, but that first time he ejaculated was a different world. I’ve told you about how, when we cum, our body’s perception of everything mutates….discomfort becomes pleasure, even pain becomes pleasure, and for me at least, and I suspect many other girls, allowing yourself to pee when you cum is really, really horny. Anyway, when Lisa had finally given herself permission to simply relax into whatever her body wanted to do, (I was between her legs fingering her and licking her clit at the same time, and licking up the copious girl cum that was pooling in the palm of my right hand as I gently massaged her g-spot) she had cum violently and just…gave in to it. I felt so privileged that she trusted me. 

That was,  what was it, maybe six weeks of sexual exploration was like a tornado! We went from a brief kiss on the lips…..oh, that was something. We always kissed goodbye and hello, but this kiss…..we’d usually aim for a cheek, but this time we both turned the wrong way, purely accidentally, and out lips met. The briefest of kisses turned into another, longer one…and then another longer one still, until our tongues touched. That first time, we just felt one another’s boobs, but later that evening we had our hands in one another’s panties. Just standing there in my room feeling one another up. Neither of us came….well..not then anyway. When she’d gone, I sure as hell did, and I suspect she did when she got home. 

A few days later, and I was licking her bum! Torrid, passionate, and denying one another nothing.

I know I knock the ‘strict Catholic upbringing’ which exists around here a lot, but it is a ‘thing’ and it can dominate youngsters, I think, to the point of psychologically damaging them. Lisa, like so many was the only child of strict `Catholics. Mum was a daily mass attender and communicant. (To properly receive communion, you have to be not in a state of sin, which means regular, sometimes daily confession…heavy stuff) Dad was a Catenian and member of several men-only Orders in the church. He was also in training for the permanent deaconate at the time, so Lisa was ruled firmly at home. I don’t say she was abused at all, just the household she grew up in was repressive sexually. 

You know, I remember that look of awe and wonder on her face after she had cum in my face like that. There were tears too. There was never a chance of us becoming permanent lovers. We just goofed around when we were together. Lisa would think of things to do, and so would I. One day, we took all our clothes off and went to bed together. On another, I suggested we both Jill ourselves off watching one another in a clothes shop fitting room. I also suggested one day not wearing panties to school. Little dares…little things. 

One night, Lisa videoed herself masturbating and gave me the recording. (I wonder if it’s in my memories box?) One day, Lisa was really excited. She’d heard, and I have no idea where, that ‘touching your bum’ felt sexy and could we try it. Well, of course, after what I felt to be a suitable amount of foreplay had been undertaken, I used my body lotion on my middle finger and gently circled her bum. No attempt at penetration, just soft, gentle touches which became circling. Then with my other hand I massaged her clit. For a while that’s all we did. Then there was just one word from her. “Inside?” A question….a request…a demand? Slowly I introduced just the very tip of my finger, and Lisa pressed down, firmly. My lubed-up finger eased into her tight bum and was still there when she came. Bless her, she reciprocated with me. I adore having my bum fingered, but this had to be at her pace. 

Thinking further about her got me going again, and soon my hand was between my legs. Although yes, I was remembering things Lisa and I did, it was more recalling the innocence of the exploration. The ‘shall we?’ element of it. Pressing our tits together…kissing them, sucking the nipples. Pressing our vulvas together and pretending one of us was a man fucking the other. Exploring each others’ vagina attempting to find that smooth pad of a g-spot.  Even just watching each other pee on the lavatory was, in some way, and innocent ‘rudie’.

I felt much, much better after this. A happy memory of innocence and excitement, of two girls experimenting and exploring. 

And so, back to the pub, and a sit down with my head chef. I explained that I’m pregnant and asked her to not tell anyone yet, but that if she thought I was being a bitch, to quietly tell me. I told her about last time too. I have never believed that either periods or pregnancy excuse in any way a girl being a total cunt to those around her. One phrase that sends me insane with anger is if I hear a girl say “Oh, I know I was being a complete bitch to him/them, but I just couldn’t help myself.” Yes, dear, you could. If you know you’re being a cunt, then you can stop it! I’m sure I will have moodies going forward, but never again will I allow them to make me as dismissive as I was this morning to what actually were some very good ideas. If my head is so fucked up I can’t make a decision, I’ll either delegate it, or simply say I need time to think about it. 

My head chef was sweet enough to say that I wasn’t rude this morning, I just ‘wasn’t myself’. Kind of her, but I was being ridiculous, rejecting ideas that she had taken her own time to think ip, plan, resource and cost. Hmmm…I really need to build some time into her working week for this. She has a flair for innovation, and shouldn’t be doing it in her own time. 

I’ve asked The `lovely Chris’s brother round for dinner tonight. I think a really good bum fuck will help. I hope he’s up for some serious role play!