Read Part 1 HERE
For all the ‘screwing around’ we’d been doing over the past couple of days, Dreamboat still hadn’t had one single orgasm, which he says is totally normal to him. While I’d cum countless times…
He and I have talked about it before, blue balls and all that, but he says that he’s never experienced that phenomenon even once. Personally, I feel bad and kind of like a failure when I don’t bring my partner to climax.
This may be oversharing, but WTF this is my blog… Dreamboat has one fake testicle. He was in a car accident when he was a teenager and now he’s left with a pretty messed up ankle and a fake testicle. The right one feels like a ping pong ball and the left one feels normal. Needless to say, it makes giving him head a bit interesting…
Oh! And another thing, he doesn’t even like blow jobs (Not even mine!)!!! He giggles like it tickles him. LOL! (Although, I have to admit it’s kind of nice to get a break from Alaska’s almost-constant face-fucking)
So, Dreamboat woke up Sunday morning with a raging hard-on which is perfectly fine and wonderful for me 😉 And, because of the huge amount of fucking we’d done
the night before much earlier that morning, it didn’t take long for his climax (which was also perfectly fine for me 😉 )
As we were waking up and getting dressed, I joked about what an animal he had been before we’d fallen asleep and showed him all of the red oval-shaped marks scattered all about my body. “Tomorrow these should look pretty gruesome,” I commented.
“I don’t remember any of that,” was his response.
“Really?!” I asked, surprised and disappointed as hell. “Last night was so fun! At least it was for me anyway. You seemed to be enjoying yourself. How shitty that you can’t remember any of it. Especially because I was carrying on kinda loud. A couple of times I had to remind you what time it was and that you have neighbors.” An awkward giggle followed.
“Oh, that’s totally normal for me,” he replied. “Last night we were drinking quite a bit and I probably got a little riled up. I’ve been known to bite when I’m excited. I’m glad you had fun.”
“Ummm… Okay.” I said. “It really stinks that you cant’ remember,” and I left it at that.
The fact that he couldn’t’ remember anything of our Saturday night together cast a bit of a shadow on my morning. It had seemed so special to me, the way he was so rough and playful and fun… I thought maybe something ‘rubbed off’ on him after watching Secretary together but it turns out, he just gets carried away after drinking too much.
It was almost 10AM before we finally moseyed down to the kitchen to fix breakfast – pancakes and strawberries – and watch another movie.
After that, the plan was to go for a quick hike near Fish Lake Falls before my bus was scheduled to leave at 2:45PM.
It was another gorgeous day and the hike was invigorating.
At about 1PM I started to pester him about getting back to his place to pick up my bags so I could be to the bus station on time.
At one point Dreamboat said, “This is Steamboat, you don’t have anything to worry about.”
To which I replied, “Yes, but Greyhound doesn’t run on Steamboat time!”
He had a royally good laugh.
We arrived at the bus station about 30 minutes early as Greyhound suggests and I went inside to see what was up.
It was empty, except for one man with a suitcase, and the station had been permanently closed! There was a piece of paper taped on the ticket window stating “THIS STATION HAS BEEN PERMANENTLY CLOSED. WE APOLOGIZE FOR THE INCONVENIENCE.”
Oh no!!! That wasn’t a good omen… I approached the solitary gentleman waiting inside and asked, “Are you waiting on the bus to Denver?”
“Girl, I am the driver for the bus to Denver!”
“Oh, phew. What a relief!”
“Not really,” he said. “When I called dispatch this morning to find out if it’s running on time, they told me it wouldn’t get here until after 6PM. Yesterday’s bus didn’t arrive until 6:30PM. I’m on hold right now and haven’t been able to get through again since.”
“That’s terrible! Do we just wait here until it shows up?”
“Well, you can wait here, but I’m going to go across the street and check into that hotel for the night.”
What the fuckety fuck?! I thought. We talked for a couple more minutes and then the bus driver left.
Frustrated, I walked back out to Dreamboat’s car and explained what the hell was going on. Then, we sat there for another hour while I called every Greyhound number I could to find out the status of my bus.
I was about to find out the hard way that, when your Greyhound doesn’t show up, there is NOTHING you can do except wait for the next one – and there are not nearly as many busses as there are planes…
Ultimately, it turns out that Greyhound has a bus tracker. We decided to keep that open on my phone and go back to his place and wait and nap, since it would be at least 4 more hours before my ride showed.
At 5PM both of us decided to lay down and take a nap – I hadn’t slept very well and he hadn’t slept as much as he’s used to 😉 . We checked the tracker before we laid down and it now said that my bus wouldn’t be arriving until 10:25PM! Shit!
I set my alarm for 8:15 in order to check the status and, at 8:15, the tracker showed my bus would be arriving at 10:17. Sweet – it would suck because I wouldn’t get home until almost 5am, but at least I would be able to get home!!
I reset the alarm for 9:15 and went right back to napping.
This time, when my alarm woke me up, I checked the tracker and my bus had completely dropped off. And the next scheduled bus, leaving at 2:45pm the following day (Monday) would be my next available ride. I was totally freaking out and woke up Dreamboat before I could calm down. “Oh my god. My bus has dropped off the tracker. We need to go right now because now I don’t know where it is or even if it’s coming!”
I called Greyhound’s 800 number again and waited on hold while Dreamboat got dressed and made a sandwich. That shit totally freaked me out because I was sure I would miss my fucking bus for a 5-minute sandwich!
*sigh* It turns out that, at a stop in Utah, my bus was cancelled. I wasn’t given a reason and I was told there was absolutely nothing they could do for me; I would just have to wait until the following afternoon’s bus came (or didn’t come) and take that one instead.
If I was freaked out by his fucking sandwich, I was way more freaked out now!! What if Monday’s bus didn’t come? Then Tuesday’s? How the fuck was I going to get home?
Dreamboat immediately became upset with me, stating meanly, “I don’t want to go through all of this again. You will get home when you get home and that’s how it is. IT’S NOT LIKE YOU’RE IN A THIRD WORLD COUNTRY OR SOMETHING. Now, get over it!”
Those words really stung.
Tears welled up in my eyes. I turned away, grabbed one of his cigarettes and said, “I’m going outside. I need to take a minute to freak out before I can start to work on a solution.”
Good thing it was still fairly nice outside, 2 miles above sea level, at 11PM… The neighbor let out one of his dogs, she came over and let me pet her for a while…
I just plain felt bad for feeling bad.
I smoked that cigarette so hard and so fast that it made me sick… It was either that or the crazy state I had worked myself into…
When I returned inside, Dreamboat was on the phone with a local shuttle company called Go Alpine trying to find out when I could get an actual ride back to Denver (neither of us wanted to count on Greyhound showing up).
After all was said and done, before we went to bed that night I had to purchase a $91 one-way ticket for a shuttle that would only drop me off at the airport. Then I would have to spend an additional $9 to take the train/bus home from the airport. If I was lucky, I’d be able to make it to work for the afternoon half of the day.
So much for any money I’d been saving for a trip I was going to take with him in June…
We went back to bed and laid there for a while. It felt uncomfortably silent.
It felt like hours before he broke the silence, “You know. We would probably both sleep a little better after making love. It will be less animalistic than last night, though. I hope that’s alright.”
“Of course, Silly,” I said. “That’s a really good idea.”
He made love to me slowly and sweetly, taking extra care with the shoulder he had so relentlessly bitten the night before. And, when we finished, I rolled over and rested comfortably in the pit of his arm.
My shuttle arrived that next morning at 5:50 as scheduled. But, before I left, he addressed the previous day’s anger and frustration with me. “I guess the 50-year-old grumpy man came out in full force last night. I don’t like it when people cry. I don’t know how to handle it.”
“Yeah, he kinda did. I don’t like your grumpy old man side, Dreamboat… And I cry a lot, for stupid reasons… It could end up being quite a frustrating relationship for you.”
“Smitten, I’ve never had a girlfriend for more than a couple months. I’ve never been in a serious relationship and I want to try and have something meaningful. It might be frustrating for me, but I need to learn how to share my life and my space with.”
We had finally started talking about the serious stuff.
30 minutes before my shuttle was scheduled to arrive…