Promiscuity. I'm full of it.

I am a huge flirt and tease.
I've always known that, but today, I've learned how much of one I am while wresting in bed, fully clothed mind you, with a guy named Stanley. He's my brother in law's friend. He and I have met a couple times and dare I say, I feel more comfortable with him than Scott, which I thought was impossible.
He'd invited me to go swimming in his parents' pool. It was only he and I, when usually it's us, my sister and brother in law. He and I swam, talked a little. At one point, closer to the end, I'd taken my glasses off and set them on the edge of the pool and he was playing me, trying to keep me from getting them, I'd jumped up trying to get over him and get my glasses. I felt something I'd never felt bafore. He had a woody. He claimed it was random. I don't know what to think. I've been told men sometimes had random boners, but the rest of the day, he seemed to have at least a slight erection. Then again, that might be purely because of me.
Afterwards, he'd gone into his room to just lie down. He was tired. I laid in bed with him, but a ways away. I had then told him I'd stolen the keys to his car and I wrestled him in his bed. He tried to get back his car keys and I was writhing in his bed, trying to keep them from him. He found it exciting, sexually. I thought it was fun, fun in general...mostly. Even though it was pretty physical and I was being a tease, he was very gentlemanly. He apologized if he accidentally touched me on my private parts and trying to manuver me around without hurting me. He kept asking why. I told him "why not?" or "Because it's fun." There were a few times where I would graze his erection. Usually I didn't say anything, but he always apologized.
There were times he and I would just meet eyes and stop for a second. He finally got them back and I'd made him much more tired, but whatever icebergs floated around after the ice had broken(pool incident) were almost gone. There were times when he'd look at me, smile and softly grunt. I asked him why he did that and I don't remember exactly what he said, but I think it was amusement of how I teased him but he wasn't going to get any from me. It seemed to me that it was a mixture of want, disappointment and amusement. We just laid back and relaxed.
At some point, I then I stole his wallet and the whole thing started again, but once I stuck his wallet down my shirt, he wasn't so apologetic for feeling me up afterwards. Not that I minded anyways. I have a great judge of character and I've known pretty much from the start that I could trust him. He asked what he needed to do to get his wallet back. I told him to think creatively. In the end, he just asked for them back and I returned it. Stan and I just relaxed a bit, talked about my turn ons and that. Now, all the icebergs were gone. We laid in close proximity to each other. I always had a pillow and he would try to take them away. When I closed my eyes in relaxation, he made a comment about how my eyes seemed to disappear when I closed them. I wasn't really offended, but I just hid my eyes from him in jest. He tried to get me to stop, but I turned my head around. He then made a comment about my grey hairs and I apologized that I can't cover my whole head. Stan suggested to put a bag over it. Then I buried my head into the pillow. I played pouty, even though he said I had a cute face. The third time I stole something for which we wrestled, we talked about actually having sex in the lulls between him trying to get his truck keys this time. The way I bit my lip and pursed them together, he could tell I was nervous. He asked what he could do to make me feel better. I told him I didn't know. He asked if he should stop flirting. I told him it wouldn't matter because I'd flirt anyways. He gave me this look that I couldn't really explain to you. A look of understanding I suppose. I probably apologized to him more than flirt when I told him I wasn't going to have sex with him. It's that that I didn't want to, it's just that the night before, he and I were at my sister's place for dinner and Stan and I were going home. My brother in law suggested Stan take me to his place and we go have sex. My sister said no. She didn't say why. She just said no. That held me back. I wanted to know why. I wanted to talk to her about it. I still do because I haven't talked to her about it.
He'd retrieved his keys and that was the last time I stole anything in bed. We just relaxed and talked. We played around. We played strip poker. I got to my underwear and that was my limit. He'd won and was happy about seeing me almost naked. We put away the cards and I put on his shirt. He looked at me with a smile and told me he'd always thought it was cute when girls put on guys' shirts. So I was lying in his bed with nothing but my panties and his huge shirt on next to him. He told me that it sucked, being a virgin, lying next to a hot chick who's half naked and not being able to get laid. I told him I was sorry. I really was. I wanted to, but I was so nervous. And it didn't help that my sister said no.
He told me he was going to take a shower since his hair felt dirty. Mine did too. He invited me into the shower. I later learned he was joking... after we'd already showered together. He was walking out of the bathroom, letting the water warm up and saw me coming with my clothes. He later told me he was nothing short of surprised. We washed our hair and stood awkwardly around. He was so nervous. It was completely obvious. Me? He seemed to think I'd done it before, the way I took it all in a stride. Honestly, I stayed under the showerhead to let the water wash over me to calm me down. I told him that I was scared. Well he put it scared shitless. Stan said that he was so nervous, he didn't have a boner even though he was standing in a shower with a hot ass chick. Later, he looked at me, staring. I felt small and exposed. Sometimes I would meet his eyes and smiled a little. He said "You're pretty, you know that?" My first instinct was to shake my head. I have such a low confidence. He gave me this earnest look and said that I am. I murmured a thank you and stuck my head in the warm water, washing it over my face, trying to get my heart from beating so furiously. I messed with his hair a little and said, kind of softly, that his hair looked cute when it was wet. He was adorable in the shower, with that look he kept giving me, hair wet and the lighting too. Stan compared height. I'm a good 6 inchest shorter than him. He commented that if he was going to kiss me, he'd have to squat down a little. I replied that I could get on my toes, and demonstrated. He leaned in for a kiss. It was awkward because he had a very different style than Scott. He pulled back and looked at me. He then exclaimed at the realization that I was on my toes. I couldn't help but laugh. We kissed again. I was in this state of fear. My hands were on the front of his shoulders. I'm not entirely sure, but I don't think he set his hands on me, so as to not make me feel more nervous than I already was. Or he was too nervous to do so. He doesn't remember, but he stuck his tongue in my mouth. And the reason we stopped making out was because I apparently bit him. I didn't mean to. I didn't even know that I did. I think I seemed more fearful than I was because he then said that we could get out if I wanted. I meekly nodded. Stan thought it was funny how I covered up. I told him that I always would because of my modesty.
We stood in the bathroom, in the cool air and tried to not be so nervous. As he left to change, and I changed in the bathroom. When I was fully dressed, I sat on a stool and did some deep breathing. Just as I was leaving, he was arriving to check up on me since I was in there for a while. He and I were unlucky enough to have our mothers call us while we were both still so scared. I was able to play it off. Steven had a harder time it seemed. We laid on the floor, because I didn't feel like lying on the bed. I told him I was hungry and I got waffles. We cuddled on the couch. We talked a little. He felt me up a little.
I'd stolen his car keys again and he pushed me against the couch, trying to get them back. He'd paused and looked at me. Then he fell off the couch. I sat down on the floor with him, sticking his keys in my pocket. He insisted that I at least give him a blowjob or handjob. I didn't say no. I just laughed and looked at him. The no was in my lack of an answer. I was lying on my back and he leaned against my breast, saying it was like a soft pillow. He kissed it and it happened to be in my nipple which I found so surprising I arched my back a bit. He was surprised by that. He, intrigued, stuck his and up my shirt and bra. He rubbed my nipple and I arched my back a lot against his touched. He said that it seemed orgasmic the way I reacted. And that I must like him a lot to let him do all that to me.
I was about to miss my curfew so he was speeding to get me home in time. We got pulled over. Stan told him that he was trying to get me home before I get grounded. The officer told him that it'd be easier to explain why I got grounded than why I got hurt in an accident. The officer left our window back to his car. I told him I was sorry that I'd gotten him a ticket. Stan said that it was ok, it wasn't my fault. I said that if I weren't here, it wouldn't have happened. He shrugged and said that if I'd gotten hurt, it would be bad. The simplicity in the way he worded it, the earnest tone he had, it spoke to me. He cared. We ended up getting off the hook for going 83 in 60 mph area(he'd actually hit 130 but since he was weaving in traffic, it was harder to get him on radar). He seemed the luckiest guy in the world, even though he didn't get laid.
Stanley is a completely different man than Scott. I don't know if I love Scott. I don't know if I'm in love. I don't know anything anymore. But I'll be seeing Scott tomorrow... today actually... so maybe I'll know more once we set together and bond again. And have sex. I'm scheduled to lose my virginity today. And tomorrow, I'll be seeing Stan, so he can lose his virginity to me. And my story to my sisters is that I lost mine to him. Scott is a complete secret to my family.
Ah the complexity of promiscuity.

Craving Something More

I vehemently believe that I'm not creative.
I can create things that no one can seem to imitate or even comprehend how it's done, but I don't see it as creativity.
Click here to see my art gallery.
I only call it art because other people do. Art should make you stop and stare at it, even if it's only a second. It should make your eyes wander over it. I don't think my art does that. It makes people say "Oh that's cool," and move on. It's only "cool" because I'm their friend and because they've probably never seen anything like it. I need to learn how to create my visions into a reality. Photoshop is something I'm pretty good at, but I'm not that talented. I know enough though. Even so, I don't have the patience to learn how to draw in photoshop. I'm one to take shortcuts.
My poetry is ok, I suppose. I keep hearing that it captures emotion well, or something of that sort, but it's not exactly what I feel. If anything, my emotion is understated. I could be feeling a fiery rage enough to light my keyboard on fire, but as I type my poetry, it's just a bit more than a smolder in my poetry.
However, how are my readers to know that? In my poetry, that's what it seems that I'm feeling.
I seem to lack the ability to translate what I see in my head to something I've created. It's my own fault for not trying harder. For not doing more to learn how to do this or that. However, I've learned that I'm not so bad at drawing a woman's profile, of their face that is. Shading is my weak point. To the untrained eye, you don't even notice it. To someone who knows art, well they can tell you that there needs to be more contrast and more shading.
I crave to do something less abstract, something more meaningful. Something I'd be proud to show someone. Is it sad that I've been getting more and more ashamed of my abstract art? That I've become less and less fulfilled with it?
If you talk to any artist who can draw something they see in a room in 10 minutes, they probably wouldn't see much fulfillment in it either. It was just a quick sketch to them. To others, it's detailed and captured the image perfectly. For me, every single one of those abstract artpieces took me about 10 minutes, some times more and most times less, and I find it frustrating that it's not the kind of art I want to create, but it's the only kind I'm good at.
Is it obvious I'm self pitying? I really can't help it. It's one of my character flaws. One of the many.
I ramble about the same old stuff don't I?
If not Scott, then college, if not college, than friends, if not friends than family, if not family than art.
Sometimes drivers ed too.
I suffer a life of monotony.
It could be worse. It could be a life of hardship.