Learning Experiences.

I forget so many things. Baths for instance, are not sess pools of your own ick, but rather warm blankets that fill every crevice of your body, leaving you fresh and smooth and surprisingly, much more clean than a shower. Shoes with five inch heels are not a pain, but more of an empowerment. Towering over men creates a feeling of success, even if your ankles are ready to buckle.
And at the same time, while I forget most of the things that I enjoyed once, I learn new things from my own stupid phobias and nerosis. Swimming is not an embarrassing exercise. Crying for an hour on the bathroom floor of the hotel room because you feel fat, is. Having someone who can afford to pay for such adventures shouldn't cause guilt. It should make you feel loved... And I do.

Climbing out of my Tercel in the middle of the Niagara Square parking lot, wearing knee high, lace up, leather bitch boots on a mild October afternoon makes for an interesting beginning to any story. I wish I was empty enough to say that it was the beginning of a hot and torrid affair with a foreign embassador from an exotic country, but it was really only the meeting place for the beginning of Andrew and I's adventure.
Arriving at the Hilton, I was very aware of the numerous sets of curious eyes set on my legs. I did feel like a whore, and that caused a strange sort of excitement in me. Pretending to be something you're not, even in the smallest of ways makes for excellent sex. Every woman should have a pair of black laceups. Even if your boyfriend doesn't appreciate them, you'll appreciate how your legs look in them, especially when they rest on his back in the middle of a romp.

Randomly we went to Hooters for dinner. I can't say that the food was extra special, or even the waitresses with their voluptuous assets popping out over the table. I used to think that going to a restaurant that profited on the explotation of hot women with my boyfriend would make me a jealous pyscho. Realising that your boyfriend is more interested in the beer and the food, is very comforting.
I did get a hoodie out of dinner though. I enjoy that there's a little baseball logo on the left side of the chest. It makes me feel like I'm part of the team. Go Boobs.

Oddly enough, I have never been to an IMAX theatre before. I had no idea that they were "Canadian Technology" and often wondered why they were so grand compared to regular movie threatres. I'm sure having a screen that is six stories high, along with forty-four speakers blaring random noises at you through the film is impressive to some, but I'd much rather spend the money on a film that isn't about an old hag looking for death wishes. It was interesting in itself though.
I do realise now that if Andrew and I do have children, they will be tormented with educational vacations and many hours of the Discovery Channel with their father.

I still have yet to figure out why I'm so upset with the shape of my body. I'm not awful, but I'm not even average either. I obviously know that there are bits of my body that any man would drool over, but at the same time, wish that I didn't have them, for those reasons.
I probably shouldn't have felt so ill-at-ease with the prospect of going swimming and I'm sure I wouldn't have been so uncomfortable with the idea if there hadn't been a man starring at me for the first fifteen minutes, upon arriving at the pool. I just couldn't bring myself to take off my hoodie, even when Andrew begged.
I felt silly and I just wanted to hide. So my hair was let down and my face withdrawn behind it's red curtains and I waited patiently, trying not to cry or show any of my discomfort for Andrew's sake.
I eventually retreated to the room and wept silently for a bit. When Andrew made his way back to the room, he wanted to help, but I just couldn't tell him. I just cried. I cried so much. I was so disgusted with my body. I couldn't even bare to look at myself in the mirror, even while wearing my favourite outfit, even while trying to fix the parts of me that I like best. I just felt ugly.
I felt bad for putting Andrew in that situation. And every time I tried to stop crying for his benefit, I just cried more. Eventually he had no idea what to do and he turned on the god-damned television. Probably out of frustration and probably just to tune out the sobs. Obviously that made things worse.
I did eventually stop and we silently made our way downstairs for a walk along the Parkway. I didn't say much down, but on the way back I apologised and tried to make him understand that there was nothing he could do for me in that sort of situation.
He told me again how much he loved me and that he thought I was beautiful, no matter what I thought of myself, but hearing that from your boyfriend, is sort of like hearing it from your mother: They have to say it. They don't have a choice.

So I felt better when we finally went to gamble. Andrew, I think lost forty dollars, which was a small comfort, knowing full well how much he is willing to loose.
We went to the Flying Saucer and had a shit load of food and a god damed stine of beer that was literally the size of my head. There were some loud, stereotypical, college-guys sitting behind us, which were insanely annoying. I was thankful that Andrew was with me then, because I'm sure all of them were too afraid to say anything cruel to a girl that was with a man of his size.

Upon arriving back at the hotel I knew that Andrew would want to have sex. I was still feeling sort of awful from my body-complex-cry-athon, so getting to the state of where I was enjoying it was difficult. Andrew pushed and pulled and carressed and complimented, but nothing worked. I even, almost started to cry again. Eventually he flipped me over, which helped a lot, as I feel that the back of me is nowhere as offensive as the front.
He calmly slipped his fingers into me and ran my juice up to my asshole. I felt a splash drop on my left cheek and I braced myself for the penetration of his index finger. Preparing one's self for anal is difficult. Letting your entire body go limp for the girth of a penis popping open your ass isn't as easy as it sounds. Muslces tighten involuntarily, making the experience very far from a pleasant one, IF you just. don't. go. limp.
He ran his finger in and out of my ass as he slid his cock back into my pussy. At this point, the furthest thing from my mind was body image. He took his finger out of my ass, as he got into the rythym of our bodies grinding and pulled my head back so my tits would be exposed.

"Fuck my ass, Andrew. Pppllleeeaaassseee," I squealed.

He grunted hard, not wanting his cock to leave my warm pussy, but relented. He put his hands on my hips and pulled me up so my ass was in the air and my face was in the sheets.

"Relax," he cooed. "It will only hurt for a minute."

And it did. And then I was lost in a montage of dirty words and lust-filled cries.
He eventually flipped me over onto my back and put a pillow under my ass. My legs spread open, and were thrust into the air. I curled slightly and his dick was back again, pounding my ass hard. I had never been in that position before and the angle at which his cock was hitting my insides caused all sorts of mixed feelings.
I slid my fingers into my pussy and felt his dick pushing against the walls of my asshole. My eyes rolled back in my head, I felt the sweat from his body dripping on my chest. I screamed too loud, my body began to shake. I could feel his muscles tighten, I could feel my fingers getting increasingly wet from the state of my already soaked pussy.
I literally screeched as he continued to push in me and then with one mighty thrust he came into my ass and we both collapsed, exhuasted.

"Woo."

He went to have a shower while I laid sprawled on the bed. My body was tingling and shaking softly from the exotic trauma it had just experienced. I eventually went to have my shower, but noticed the vacant, massive bathtub and decided to emerge myself in some steamy water, rather than take a shower. After all, Andrew had spent a load of cash on the room, I wasn't about to let the massive bath go to waste.
I left the water feeling warm and relaxed. That bath did more for my aching body than anything else had in ten years.

There is no doubt about it. Anal sex in the, "Waking Up the Nieghbours" position is tops and there is not a woman on the planet that can refuse the enjoyment of a tub full of hot water.

The next morning I coaxed Andrew out of bed to try my courage at the swimming pool. I did get in, and upon doing so, realised that my bathing suit is easily two sizes too big for me, which is a very comforting feeling. However, getting out of a pool, wearing a bathing suit two sizes too big, is not. Water logged clothing that is too large, falls down easily and I'm sure I showed some crack. Poor lifeguard.
We went for breakfast in the hotel restaurant, located on the thirty-third floor and filled our bellies with french toast and pastries, omlets and yogurt, sausage and milk. It was the best breakfast buffet I've ever had and I'm not going to lie, I may go there again, even if I'm not a one-night Hilton resident.
Afterwards, we checked out of our room and Andrew stuffed me with his cock one last time.
We ventured to the old casino, where Andrew lost eighty dollars and promised me tenderly that he would not go gambling at least for another two months.

On the way home we stopped to get some glass for Christmas presents, and picked up some earrings at Niagara Square to replace my old, plastic ones.
We slept the rest of the day and at around six, Andrew left, leaving me feeling sleepy, happy and sad. I hate seeing him leave. It's hard to see the one person that I want to be with, drive away every week, knowing fully well that I may not see him for quite some time. It's easy to forget when he is not here how much I do love him and how much I want nothing but him.
But I suppose my mind has to be filled with other interests in order to forget the ache of my heart, every time he leaves.

Needless to say, the Hilton left a lasting impression on most parts of me.

I miss the experience already.