Tag archieven: McDreamy

Top three kissers

A man’s kiss is like his penis; the owner is usually clueless how it rates. Whether he’s good or bad. If you are aroused by it, or disappointed. If it’s inviting you to surrender, or forcing it’s way in. Even if he has missed 24 dental appointments and had his penis broken in three different places, he will still think his kiss and cock are the stuff that dreams are made of.

We all know what bad kisses are. So I dived into the Google to find out why it is that some men kiss so lovely. What makes them so special? The first thing I stumbled upon was the Kama Sutra, sharing with us 8 different kisses. I read it, conclusion being that what good kissers don’t do, is read the Kama Sutra. Applying even one of these eight, is sufficient to banish a man from the female Universe for life. That the Kama Sutra is an Indian marriage manual (not a dating manual) makes it even more cruel. Don’t get married in India, unless you like getting your face sucked off.

I tried reading another article on kissing but stranded on page 2. You can read it here, if you like. It does indicate that sucking of someones face is a bad idea, as is forceful kissing. Things most women will agree on.

Here’s my personal top three.

3. Valentino

From the moment he walked into my yoga class, to the moment we kissed in his student room;  1,5 year. He wasn’t 19 anymore, he wasn’t seeing someone else anymore. Valentino had more experience, than I hoped to get in life time, and I expected him to take initiative. He didn’t. When I finally laid my head to his shoulder, and we kissed, I expected him to be passionate or pushy. He wasn’t.
Nothing could have prepared me for the sweet, feminine, kisses he gave.
“ Your kisses are so soft!’ I ruined the moment. “ I m sure you hear that all the time.”
He smiled and said: “Every now and then.”

The rest of his sexual behavior was less puppy like. More like a war where he conquered,  I defended, and he brought out the heavy artillery. Some of his tricks even worked and I did lose more territory than I wanted.

Gentle feminine kisses do not mean that someone is of outstanding character, nor that he has the best intentions. Yet you will always remember him, as if he did.

2. Mc. Dreamy

Just like Valentino, McDreamy was half Indonesian. Once a doctor, and now a performing artist, he had an ability to bring out emotions. It was in a bar on our first date. He ordered the same drink I did, twice, as if he was a bit shy. I leaned over and kissed him, and he responded. Silken, loving, without a hint of aggression or lust. I seldom cried tears that were so pure. Free from grief.
I still don’t know what happened.



1.  Jonathan

You’re 16. So is he. You kind of like him. And then he kisses you.
[pause] [pause] [pause]

No, I wasn’t inexperienced, yet I don’t consider myself kissed, until I met Jonathan. I didn’t fondle, didn’t have oral sex, didn’t give head, until I met Jonathan. His patience, his gentleness, his commitment. That boy could seduce whole convents to give up their marriage to Jesus for a night with him.

My hunger to experience his tender, healing lovemaking again, has pushed me on an immoral kissing spree, kissing every man that remotely reminds me of him. Only to show up empty hearted. It is never Jonathan.

But ever since then, every time I kiss, something happens to the man. Some smile in silence. Some verbalize their admiration. And some stand spellbound, and utter just a simple wow.



Winter fairy tale:
click here for a letter that includes both my time with Jonathan and Valentino
Or select their names on the right side bar.



The Blank Book

Did Cinderella write erotic stories?
Fantasize about the stable boy?
Leave juicy messages in the armour of her favourite knight?
Did the maiden fancy phone sex?
Because if she was anything like me, she didn’t waste those 100 years sleeping.

It’s been a year now since I had sex. A year sizzling with potential that ultimately died out before anything caught fire.

Schoonschrijven, the young writer. When even his sarcasm started to sound like poetry, Cinderella must have known she was in trouble. And that she was about to be turned down of course.

The Jock, a professional sportsman. She liked him on video and loved his voice. He would always call when she was in bed. And she would always cry after she came. Maybe because there was a Mrs.Jock.

The disarming McDreamy. She offered herself hoping he would do everything men and doctors do to naked women. But like all doctors he was emotionally unavailable. Cinderella picked up her red string, and left for home.

Three times in love, all to be turned down.

“Wasn’t three once a magic number?” she must have sighed when arriving at her castle.

It was conveniently located behind the station, the lucious garden free of thorns. The bushes were trimmed and there was central heating in every room.
Yet instead of princes riding out to meet her, she met a stampede of sharp tongued frogs.

“Your demands are too high.”
“You’re too easy.”
“You shouldn’t Twitter that it’s been a year!”
“SO not charming you behave!”

It was clearly all her fault.

One year down, 99 to go.

She slid into her nighty, between the fresh sheets of the white double bed and thought about the last time.
He was only a little taller then her. Only a little stronger.
She remembered his raisin brown eyes, the raven black hair.
“You must be Snowwhite’s secret brother,” she tapped his shy nose. “The fairest of them all.”

She never renamed him for her stories.
And she wished she could have bled.