in need of a lost weekend

A few weeks ago, the physicist and I were talking at the dining room table. It was while he was living here, but before he broke up with his girlfriend of three years. (I had nothing to do with that. He's been waiting for a year for her to break it off, but that was never going to happen. He finally manned up and did it.)
One thing you should know about him: he talks like he's a sexpert and is quite the porn connoisseur. (Before you think that folks too busy watching porn aren't busy enough with actually having sex, I don't think that's necessarily true. It certainly was not for my big, blond, bespectacled, bear of a man (Mikey) in Okinawa. If only he hadn't wanted me to go live on the family farm back in Youngsville, Ohio, we might still be together.)
Anyhow, to hear the physicist speak, you would think that he's done it all, at least once.
Given some of the conversations he and I have had these past four months when he was renting a room here, I think maybe he's led a more quiet existence in the bedroom than he would have preferred.
I keep finding out I've done things he has not.

For now, all you need to know is this: he's obviously been with the wrong women.
Seriously, that's what he said to me.
I had just asked him if he'd ever had a night of sex that just went on and on.
When he asked what I meant, I told him.
"You had met up for an afternoon bootie call. Instead, you both keep f**king all night to the point of exhaustion. You know you should stop, but when you touch, it just starts all over again, bodies uniting and falling back exhausted... then fingertips brush and you're at it again until you pass out. The next morning, you're back at it, fingers all over each other, groins engaged and thrusting, thrusting. You're worn out, you know you need food and water, but neither of you can stop having sex. One of you finally manages to get out of the bed and down the stairs, bringing back food and water bottles so you can start again... and you do."
He looked like he had been slapped into silence.
Then he said, "I've obviously been dating the wrong women."
Obviously he has.
I cannot think of a single relationship I've had that didn't include at least one lost weekend.

Yesterday, I wanted very much to have my first lost weekend since I was dating the singing bird.
I've had a lost night, mind you, but not a lost weekend.
This time, like that last time with Mikey in San Diego, those 48 hours would have been with a big, blond, bespectacled bear of a man, too... had it actually occurred.
Honestly, this man was at least partly to blame for me getting hot and bothered.
I'm not saying he was touching me or kissing me or anything of that nature.
If only he had been... but that might well have wrecked our odd May-August relationship of the last two years... or transformed it from a comfortable chair into an awkward boat that sailed away.
(Hey, he's studying organic chemistry, okay? That inside joke is for him.)
Here's the way it all went down yesterday.

I had ended up spending six hours with him.
That wouldn't have been such a big deal if I'd been able to jerk off this morning before going to his house. That's what I usually try to do, you see. It relieves the sexual tension on my side and that allows both of us to be more at ease.
However, I had not had that option. The physicist had been home last night and this morning and I didn't want him to hear me moan.
So, I'm with the bear and it's not even 9 AM. He practices the talk he's giving, packs his bag with the multimedia bits, and places me in charge of his flash drive.
Wow. I'm sure he was wanting me to feel included, but it sure felt like a lot of trust being afforded in my direction.
Off we went to the downtown conference site.
Oops! We had to detour around the Buddy Walk! As he doesn't go north very often, he was letting me tell him where to go to get to where we needed to be.
That's right - me, navigating. Without my GPS. More trust in me.
So, we are successfully there! We even have some time available to have a bit of coffee and a nosh. Nice!
He gets set up, with all his show-and-tell bits on display, while I take photographs to document the occasion.
(Hey, it's what I do, and have done, my whole life.)
It ends up as only him and one other presenter, of the four scheduled.
I'm the sole audience... and when he begins to speak, it's a tale I don't fully know. He is sharing part of his essence up there... and I become distracted by the stirring activity between my legs.
"Concentrate, girlie," I tell myself. "He'll soon drop me back off at the car and our day will be done."
But it wasn't and he didn't.
Instead, he wanted to buy me lunch for going with him as morale support.
Knowing his taste for beef, I suggested the Distillery, but that didn't work. The Chromatic Dragon was a winner, though, and we ended up having a quite satisfying two-hour lunch.
The tingling had not left me, but at least it was still manageable.
I was sure he would beg off to attend to his studies... but he did not.
Instead, I found myself on his couch, with his kitty on my lap, while he played for me on his guitar... with not one word about schoolwork...
retuning the strings to the more traditional notes rather than the Sonic Youth configuration...
playing part of a song he was writing...
strumming some blues and imitating Tom Waits...
coming over to the bookcase near me at one point to show off his science collection, possibly noticing that I was hoping for a langorous kiss...
at which he bounded upstairs to the bathroom.
When he returned, it was to grab up his gym bag and hustle us both out the door.
Of course I got a hug, even two... then I raced off to the nearest place where I could jerk off.
Sweet release!
When home again, I took a shower, jerking off again - oh, my!
Then, to the bedroom, for a proper working over by Rosie and her talented dancing sisters.
Truly, if I'd had a device that I could just push a button to trip my pleasure center, I would have done so until unconscious.
This morning, I woke to more thoughts of him and more tingling urges...and already moist labia.
Incredible.
Twice in succession I stroked myself to a moan... even before coffee!
Honestly, I need to invest in some more toys if this craziness continues.

And I better handle this sexual appetite before I see him again on Tuesday.
I certainly don't want to scare him off.
That said, if he makes a move... I am certainly responding.
We've been dancing around this 'unspoken thing' far too long.