The Sales Guy

As soon as I opened the door, I knew that divine intervention had caused me to agree to our meeting. Utter perfection, my age or slightly under.

His green eyes stood out in his boyishly handsome face, complementing his medium brown hair. He kept a beard that was hardly more than a stubble, but it suited him so well that the effect could only have been intentional.

I stretched out my hand, waiting for his.

“Hi, I’m ***, thanks for coming by.” I think I managed a friendly, non-lecherous smile.

“Hi,” His hand held on to mine just long enough to make my heart skip a few beats.

My attention turned to his broad chest, perfectly filling out his grey suit as though he was the only one ever meant to wear it. Although a tie would have sharpened up his look, I was grateful for the slightest glimpse of what remained hidden beyond the unbuttoned collar of his shirt.

I wondered if it was mainly the mystery that was getting to me. Although I can most definitely appreciate a gorgeous man, the vast flow of shirtless models on my Facebook feed never affects me quite in this manner. Even if most are undeniably handsome, I tend to blame it on them not really being my type.

Technically speaking, neither was this guy. And yet I found myself giddy like a schoolgirl on the inside, while pretending to be the capable professional.

The meeting room was unavailable, so we had to make do with the occasional seating near the kitchenette. He took a seat while I scurried off nervously to find a business card to give to him.

To be honest, I needed the moment to compose myself anyway.

Upon my return, he handed me his card from his leather conference folder. I knew I had to make an effort to listen to his sales patter, just in case he’d ask a question at the end of it. But I found myself yet again distracted, this time by his hands and his slender, perfectly manicured fingers.

His skin was flawless, but around his wrist I could see the beginning of a very impressive looking tattoo sleeve. I wondered how far up his arm and muscular shoulder the ink went. Whether the bad boy side of him would come out to play in a more intimate setting where the constraints of professionalism would no longer exist.

My short dress rode up nearly to the top of my thigh when I adjusted myself and crossed my legs. His eyes darted downwards just for a moment, making me quite pleased with my choice of outfit for the day.
He asked me about our industry and where in our business we might require his freight services and I tried my best to appear professional. Aiming to answer sensibly while the rational part of my brain was on autopilot.

But I’m a bad liar. And so was he.

While he spoke, I was mesmerised and involuntarily biting my bottom lip. I kept looking into his eyes which seemed to sparkle while he lost his train of thought and fumbled over his words. He caught himself and kept speaking, in response I continued to feign interest.

With a bunch of colleagues just around the corner, and two cleaners furiously working away around us, our meeting did not last very long.

I had nothing much to offer him in terms of business potential, but it was by no means a waste of time.

“If you ever need anything, just call me. I’m based nearby.” He took my hand once more, squeezing it slightly.

“I prefer to do business face-to-face rather than just on the phone.”

“Completely agree,” I responded while lingering on his amazingly deep eyes.

“It was lovely meeting you.” He smiled in a way that suggested he wasn’t just being polite.

My knees noticeably weakened, I returned a similarly revealing smile before seeing him out.

While I walked back towards my desk, I couldn’t disguise what had just happened. My ever-attentive colleague saw it all written on my face, prompting her to charge for the window in order to catch a glimpse.

When she returned, she gave me a nasty look.

“Next time, at least let me bring tea or coffee, al right!” She scolded.

I didn’t respond, just sat and stared at my screen.

“Say, can’t we start shipping more stuff…” I said, absent-mindedly, fidgeting with his business card.

The boss looked up, with a confused frown on her face.

“I want him to come visit again…” I continued.

While both of them chuckled, I couldn’t help but wonder if he’s on LinkedIn…

Oral Sex & Hygiene

Somehow I feel compelled to write about this topic today. Not sure if it will turn into a rant or what, but a quick Google search revealed that I am not alone with my, shall we say, "concerns".

Firstly, let me explain my position on oral sex. I am not very fussed about it myself, it feels nice but it doesn't make me cum. But, I am extremely conscious that I make sure things are clean and in order before anyone goes near there with their mouth. As in - I don't mind sex during that time of the month, but I don't want anyone licking stuff I wouldn't want to taste back if I get a kiss afterwards. If I have any doubts, I'll have a quick clean beforehand or refuse and suggest something else instead.

Even though I don't quite see the attraction in receiving oral for anything other than a warm up to the main event, I understand that most men love getting it. I've never had any complaints about technique or anything, perhaps I had watched enough porn before attempting it for the first time to know roughly what to do. I don't mind giving head, but I have serious issues when it comes to personal hygiene.

I've tried the whole wipe-it-down-with-a-wet-cloth-beforehand routine. It doesn't work. Neither does rinsing it under warm water for a bit. I don't know if it's a circumcised vs. uncircumcised issue but somehow no matter how hard I try to put it out of my mind, when I try giving head, it tastes of urine.

It's not that he doesn't shower, and he has even started to wipe off any stray drops after taking a wee but somehow it doesn't seem to help. Always after a blow job I just have this aftertaste in the back of my throat that seems to find its way into my nose and doesn't go away for at least half an hour. And I particularly dislike if he pulls back his foreskin wanting me to lick his head directly. Even though it looks clean, it smells pretty bad. I don't think I'm very fussy, I don't mind tasting a bit of sweat or swallowing. I just mind that public toilet smell.

I guess it's more difficult keeping it clean, but it just irks me that for noticing it, I'm apparently picky. Because this never used to be an issue. I have two theories about that. Firstly, apparently when you're super aroused you are less likely to find things off putting. In the beginning of our relationship we were absolutely crazy which may have caused me not to really notice these things.
But my second theory is probably more viable (and less insulting): We were in Asia, where he didn't use toilet paper but instead washed after going to the toilet. Perhaps it was just cleaner that way?

Well anyway. I guess I'm just a bit annoyed. I know what I smell like and base my decision on whether or not to agree to oral on that knowledge and I wish others were as self aware. Judging from what I found googling the topic of urine smell during oral I have come across entire discussions of women noting the same thing. And surprisingly a lot of men who think wiping their dicks instead of a halfhearted shake or two is gay. All I can say to that is if you're happy leaving drops of piss all over your underwear all day, don't expect more than a handjob. But if he's making an effort keeping things clean, why the hell does the smell not go away?

I just LOVE Post-it notes

Although I've been posting these on my Facebook page as well, I thought I'd keep them all in one place together.