Alone Time
Post-nut clarity, Sage time,
or the feeling of calm as the Universe aligns is
What I call — “What the fuck did I just do?”
It’s not that I can say I know what all women think or that I’ve done enough surveys to know what women feel after sex,
but from my personal experience, and watching shows and such, women do not have post-nut clarities.
Simple. We don’t have nuts.
Instead, we have ‘Pity Sex’ and fake orgasms, like when ‘Harry met Sally’. In my opinion, men and women can’t be friends. There will always be one person whose feelings are more vested in
the relationship and the other person receiving it would say — “Oh, we are just friends” — that’s all BS.
It’s chemical. We are all animals. Attraction exists not in ones and zeros. It’s in the air, in the scent we breathe, our eyes that see, the voice we hear, the feel of skin, heat, and ice.
We can’t help ourselves. Nature wants to procreate.
So, if you think your heart’s not in it, you are just friends.
Sure. But your body or her body thinks otherwise. She might be not your type but you are, and vice versa.
You don’t have to be guilty about it. We are selfish animals and who in this world doesn’t like
some idolization? Isn’t that part of give and take? You get some love and you give back some love in another way.
“What is FWB?” Someone asked. “Friends with benefits,” I said.
“And what’s that? Is that the same as Sex Partner?” That foreign Asian guy would ask.
In fact, some of the Americans who are fans of one-nighters might ask too.
It is a thin line from Sex Partner to FWB. To be honest after numerous times of explaining the difference, I wondered if it mattered anymore.
I wasn’t going to get my ideal FWB.
“Friends with benefits are friends first — hang out, have a meal, and if the mood is right…” I
would have said - fuck the brains out, but I got to rein it in, couldn’t scare the prey. “Get a hotel room and play.”
“Isn’t it dating?” Some would ask.
“I guess so. A date would be nice. You can go dutch. Whatever. Don’t friends hang?” Even though I’d said this a gazillion times, most didn’t pan out. In fact, those who did
and got closer to being FWBs and with whom I slept twice, were the ones who bothered to book the hotel and buy me a
meal or something to eat or drink — more than a cup of coffee or tea.
Which is downright sad. Was sex these days worth less than a meal? For a cougar, it wasn’t the value that counted, it was the thought.
And a guy who brings flowers was an immediate win which in my two years, happened twice.
“If I wanted sex, I could get many,” I told the guys. “And, if I made time to meet you, it meant you stand a chance for being more than that.”
Or it was just because I was horny or bored that day and needed some inspiration.
Did I feel bad about objectifying them? Well, it wasn’t like this was romance. Lust is looks. Looks is meat.
Meat on the bone. “I can’t have sex with someone and not feel anything.
Sex is personal. You’re opening your private self to a stranger.” Some guy said. “Dude, I agree. So, that’s why I’d prefer FWB. I’m not a post-nut person,” I said.
And that being said, it was always these indecisive
guys with their sensitive emotions who screwed me and ran away. Jerks. Pussies. “I will always be here,” I said.
It was a motto I stood by most of the time, unless there was a stalker who couldn’t let go or stranger
danger that made me block. Lately, though, I’d been feeling I don’t care anymore. There was only so much goodwill I could give and like everyone, I would like to be more selfish.
After all I’d give more pics and vids for free than anyone would get on ‘Onlyfans’ and asked nothing in return. Maybe a dick pic or so but who’s really benefiting right?
Nutting. I won’t deny my thirst for the nut is strong.
But it didn’t mean I wanted anyone’s cum.
Just yesterday I spoke to a guy whom I’d told at least three times that I didn’t want to do it with him again online.
It began when I started chatting with him from a dating app, and found out that his
pics were highly filtered and photo-shopped that when I met him in vid chat, he didn’t look like him.
“You don’t look the same,” I said to him. He laughed, “Is it?”
“Dude, of course. Why did you do it?”
“Doesn’t it look good?” He asked.
Wtf. Sure.
It’s like going to a branded shop and buying a wallet and coming home realizing it was one from a department store. I was drooling after the wrong guy.
Stats was good, looks was good, chat was good and then Bam!
It’s not saying I’m a total hottie and beautiful. I, too, like to put my best pics forward but this…this was too much.
And naive I, who haven’t figured the ways of the Net dating and meeting IRL, still have a hard time grasping.
There was some legit-idity to embracing your true self after hiding behind that black screen.
Back to Alone Time.
This was specific to the Korean guys who reached their zen moments and ran away.
Hyeonja Time 현자타임 started as a dare. A cute, hot, Kpop-ish guy appeared on Bumble one day. I got excited and super-swiped him, and got even excited when he responded.
He was real — with his light brown, bowl-cut Korean hairdo, a smart guy from Seoul National (SNU), here on an internship, alone.
Recently, I’d learned that many of the young Asian guys had moved from elsewhere to my city for jobs. And being the caring adult, I’d offered to pick
them up from train stations and bring them around. Coffee, feed them well, a nice walk, chat, and then, a good naughty play in the car, and then if all vibes work, move to a hotel another time.
The MILF Cougar’s Playbook. If you find yourself in that ploy, you are being hunted.
And to those who are reading this and nodding their heads, I hope you had fun and great memories, and so, you know, I didn’t forget you.
“I’m on a dopamine detox,” He said. “And why?” I asked.
“I’ve done a lot of social media, so I’m deleting them and not doing it,” He said.
“That’s very good. I’m addicted too, and also to dating apps. It’s dating apps or kdrama,” I said.
“H says I need to see a sex therapist. I think I’m a dopamine sex addict.”
“I want to get a dopamine sex addict,” He said. “I never got it.”
“You never felt the high from sex?” I asked.
“Yes, but I didn’t feel addicted.” SNU Kpop guy did the Boob vs. Butt test and told me he was a Butt person. I dared him because from my chats, he seemed right smack in Team Boob.
“My friends say I’m passionate,” He said.
“You are?” I found that hard to believe. He seemed such a planner, and worrier. “We’ll see…”
“I’m looking for a FWB,” I told him later, as I always did to the ones who seemed to havepotential.
“I can be your FWB when I’m here. I have eight more months,” He said.
“Okay, let’s meet.”
And so we met impulsively. The same day we chatted and the same evening we met. I picked him up from the train station and was a little shocked at how cute and hot he looked.
Most guys here didn’t look like they walked out from a Kpop concert and to be honest, I was reeling in excitement to talking to a guy who seemed normal despite his looks.
It was his first meeting with an older woman. His words were always hidden with meaning.
From reading between the lines, he was saying it was the first and he’d always wanted to meet a Milf and fuck her.
We talked a lot about my sexy stories and he wanted to see some of my naughty insta pics. We were eating at a Chicken chain restaurant, me a salad and him, my home-cooked grilled fish
onigris.
He wasn’t shy about flipping through my almost naked pics with people around while I was trying to hide the phone from the window reflection behind us.
When the chicken store closed, we went to my car, which this time I’d parked under a street lamp in an open parking spot because the parking garage was too bright and
because I wasn’t expecting too much from our meeting. I’d been catfished before as I’d said so I didn’t expect him to be as cute as he actually turned out to be. And he seemed nervous and I was strangely shy.
We got into the backseats of my SUV. The area around us was very dark except for that street lamp above, and there were cars parked close on both sides and one in front.
“Can you show me more of your pictures on insta? And can you show me your Hidden folder?”
He asked immediately when we got in. I told him I had a Hidden folder of my explicit nudes and sex tapes.
“Okay,” I said, opening the folder. We were sitting far apart which was cool. I was looking out the window and shivering because the air was getting colder with summer changing to fall, and
my tight white cut-out shirt covered only half of my boobs. “What is this?” He asked pointing at something in my phone.
I leaned in to look at the picture of my pussy taken clearly full frontal with my wings spread out.
A blush hit my face. I tried to cover the phone with my hand and turned to him to stop looking when he moved in and kissed me.
He was fast. Pushing me down to the seat so he was on top. His lips were everywhere on my mouth, my neck, the top of my chest, and hands everywhere grabbing and pinching my boobs and
hips and pushing me till I was stuck between him and the corner of the door.
“Wait…wait…” I panted between breaths of kissing him back and looking around. “There are people…” I peered out my tinted window. “Anyone can see us…”
Yes, there were limits to my flashing.
Even, I thought it was dangerous. This was out in the open.
Literally out where anyone could see from far away and walk to us. The windows were fogging up
with our hot breaths because the engine was off, but still.
“It’s okay,” He said. “Do you have STDs?”
“No! Of course not!” was what I said before he took off his belt. I was pulling off my blouse.
His hand was already under my skirt and finger fucking my wet pussy. I was moaning, and he did whatever he wanted — sucking my boobs, finger fucking and I twisting over after to give
him a blow job.
“Hide,” he said and pushed my head down into his cock more, making me choke. I heard someone on our left getting in their car and doors closing.
We kept on playing, and then this time it was the front car, and he laid his body on me with his fingers stuck in my pussy. Our lips were swollen from all the kissing.
“Let’s stop. This is crazy,” I panted. It wasn’t the first time I asked him to but as he had said in his chats, he gets crazy and doesn’t think.
He was right. SNU guys didn’t think. Because the next thing he did was drop his pants with his ass showing, flipped me over and up, pushing me against the back seat, and doggy fucked.
It was a tight space. He grunted and pounded into me. Clamping my mouth with his hand and panting and moaning into my ear.
The people on our right were entering their car as he entered me. In and out he fucked me hard aswe tried to keep quiet, as I tried to not rock the car but I’d no doubt anyone outside should have
known.
“Can I cum in your mouth?” He asked as he pulled out.
I dropped to my knees and opened my mouth. He stuffed his cock in and a few pumps, he came. Filling me with so much cum, it dripped out.
“When was the last time you had sex?” I asked him as we cleaned up.
“Eight months ago,” He said. “But I masturbate…”
Yes. All of them were like that. I seemed to pick these type of guys. Or maybe it was fate that brought us together.
“I need to rest,” He said.
“Sure…take all the time.” I told him.
“Hyeonja Time,” He said. “This is my Hyeonja Time.”
“What?” My brows furrowed.
“A peaceful time feeling after sex…” He closed his eyes.
Days later, I’d learned when we stopped talking, and a few Korean guys explained what thosewords really meant.
Sages my ass.
All promises were off because Hyeonja was just a fancy way of saying ‘regret’.