I am of the opinion that you can, on a superficial level, gauge how well someone fucks by the way that they kiss.
S was a fantastic kisser and a phenomenal fuck. J is also a great kisser and a thoroughly enjoyable root.
So, with my sample size of 2, I declare kissing as a screening test for sexual ability. No, seriously though, I think the way someone kisses says a lot about them.
So here is a bit of a tale of how I tried to embrace my confidence and get my rocks off and ended up blogging about a lousy snog.
A good friend of mine invited me to a country masquerade ball and it was this weekend.
We decked up in corsets (real ones, with steel boning and serious waist reduction) and fancy frocks. I wore my gorgeous pink satin and black lace corset with some halter straps that I added hastily on the day and a poufy tulle skirt. I felt like a princess.
The band was great, lots of swing. I love dancing to swing.
Whilst most of the people there were middle aged couples, there were a few young guys there who were really very good looking and getting into the music. One in particular caught my eye and we started dancing together.
Between dances, my friend mentioned that he was really nice, and that he was a footballer (totally ‘ripped’) and that if she wasn’t married she would totally go for him (she was happy-drunk at this stage) so I decided that I’d dance with him a bit more. A song that was a little less boppy came on and he wrapped his arm around my waist and twirled me around. At that stage I was thinking that hooking up with a random hot country boy seemed like a pretty great idea (embracing my newfound confidence and all that) so I gave him my number (Alert! Rookie mistake! Will not ever do again.) whilst my friend and I chatted with him. He gave off a bit of a country kid vibe but hey, I am looking for sex, not intelligent conversation. He was also gob smacked when I told him I was single, which was very flattering. But I didn’t mention the fact that I just got out of a super-duper-serious relationship and am currently cruising for fucks because I didn’t want to weird him out with tmi-ness.
We danced a bit more and despite my stepping on his toes a few times (in my defence, I was wearing 6-inch stilettos), I was having a great time.
His hand in the small of my back as we dipped and swung to the music and he leaned in for a kiss. This is it! I was excited, it was going to be a moment!
Then, in an instant, it changed and I was hit with disappointment. It was like someone had turned off the bright glossy lights and dumped a bucket of water over my head.
Now, I am usually of the opinion that a good kiss starts closed mouthed and builds. But this guy? Open mouth, tongue in. I pulled back, a little taken off-guard. He kissed me again, open mouth on my closed lips, ramming his tongue into my mouth. At this stage I had switched from ‘he is going to kiss me, gosh yes!’ to ‘He kisses like an overly enthusiastic junior highschooler. ABORT! ABORT! ABANDON MISSION!’
I have him another chance at it and got exactly the same thing. Sloppy open mouthed snog with lots of tongue. Nope, I’m out. If he fucks like he kisses, he will be a terrible fuck.
Thankfully, the safety pin holding the halter strap on to my boob failed and I had to excuse myself to the bathroom to readjust it. (No boob flashing, it just came loose and I had to tuck the fabric into my corset a few times.)
When I came out, he and my friend were chatting and she asked if I was having a good time and I gave the most insincere “Yes! Lots of fun!” I have ever managed and then whispered in her ear that he was a terrible kisser.
She helped me bail and with her friends, shielded me on the dance floor like a good friend does. And apologised all night, which made me giggle.
I also found out that I am terrible at rejection. He approached me after the band stopped playing and asked whether I wanted his company (I admit, he was polite and nice) and while I frantically tried to work out how to let him down gently, the words “Ah, I’m fine thanks.” Fell out of my mouth and I patted him on the arm.
I feel mean, especially since he kissed me on the cheek and wished me a good night after I rejected him. But honestly, I just couldn’t force myself to risk terrible sex.
He was sweet, and it was refreshing. But sweet isn’t what I am looking for.
I also feel kind of mean because I am blogging about it and I also feel like I may have overreacted somewhat, but at the same time, it was just a super lousy snog.
Yes, I do have ridiculously high standards when it comes to sex, possibly because I have been lucky enough to experience lots of good sex and very little, if any, lousy sex. But frankly, I shouldn’t be ashamed of my high standards. I like good sex, why should I settle for anything else?