“From the moment I saw you walk in with Jen, I wondered what it would be like to fuck you.”

What do you even say to that? I mean, yeah, I’m so jaded as to believe all men undress every woman they meet and imagine what it would be like to have their way with them. Hell, I know the first thing I do when I meet a guy is check out his junk. But when someone says that to you after he’s already been inside you, you start to fantasize that he really means it. Could it be true, could this person have truly set his sights on me and only me?

No… Well, maybe. I guess anything is possible.

It’s almost tragic, really. I met a very sweet, unGwen-like boy during a recent conference—someone who I would never have given a second look. And now all I can think about is attacking him.  Or worse, emailing him (because he’s not from ‘round here) to see if we both felt the same connection. A little fantasy is fine, but actually reaching out would seem almost desperate. And nobody wants to seem desperate.

But sitting here, trying to dissect my thoughts, my mind keeps creating scenarios where he walks up, pulls back my hair, and suggests dirty things that a girl in the Junior League should never do. All I could do the entire time I was with him was hope that he would never stop touching me. Which, thankfully, he never did—at least until the sun came up and my coach turned back into a pumpkin, otherwise known as racing the clock to return to my hotel before anyone noticed I had been missing for eight hours (two days in a row). But for those two consecutive sets of 8 hours I was in sexual bliss.

The hardest part now is just trying to balance the good memories of the whole affair with my desire to keep in touch with the guy. Honestly, there really isn’t a point to it, other than holding onto the faint hope that he would be open to exploring something more with me as well. But again I refer you to my early statement of believing men will just say what they can to encourage removal of clothing in record time. I’m not ashamed of the fact that I’m just as susceptible to a man’s motivations as the next woman (hell, I am the seducer just as much as I am the seduced); I’m more concerned that I can’t tell the difference between true feelings and penis-lust. But really, is there even a difference? At least, at the end of the day, we had a fun time and the sex was some of the best I’ve ever had. (Don’t worry, I’ll fill you in later…)