Hello, and welcome to my story (Very early warning: explicit language and erotic content to follow. Yes, it’s that kind of story.):
Meet me – I’m an Eastern European girl in my early 20s, a Masters’ student, living in central London, with my mother visiting WAY too often (she does pay the rent though, so pros and cons). Imagine someone of average height, average weight – I will confidently, and quite proudly characterise myself as ‘fluffy’. I know I’m by no measure fat, but I’m not going to look model-fit anytime soon, and I don’t think being soft and cuddly is that much of a burden -, with that average shade of blonde hair that if you are drunk enough will be the subject of a debate whether it is actually blonde or brown, and if you are REALLY drunk and argumentative will fuel the second heated debate about why on earth you’re debating something of so little importance. I have full lips that are somehow permanently dry no matter how much I hydrate, and light eyes that would look quite well if I ever made the effort to put on some makeup. I clean up nice – and rarely. My fashion style consists in grabbing the first comfortable thing from the wardrobe, checking if it fits the weather (but never the season) and going out. In short, I don’t look bad, but I am not beautiful. I am relatively intelligent, kind of funny, plenty shy, and one of the most loyal friends you will ever have. I am an awesome person, but you have to get to know me to see that. Skin-deep and all that.
Regarding skin-deep… that all changes when my clothes come off. I mean, sure, I don’t become a supermodel, but my eyes seem to magically become very attractive when I’m on my knees and look up as I’m blowing someone. I am fun – according to all reviews so far, very unexpectedly so. I love to experiment, you would be very hard pressed to find something I’m not at the very least willing to try once in the bedroom. I am bisexual, but let me qualify that because it means different things and degrees to different people. I am not particularly attracted to women. But imagine you are not particularly attracted to brunettes. If you like everything else about your potential partner, I doubt you will say sorry, your hair colour is a real deal breaker for me. If I like you, your sex, age, ethnicity, religion etc etc becomes irrelevant. Though I will admit I’m a bit partial to older, darker-skinned people, and I generally like dick more than pussy.
Enters Karim. Now, very important for the events in this story, I am learning something. For plausible deniability, I will not clarify whether it is a martial art, combat system or specific self-defence course, only that it is practical, ABSOLUTELY AMAZING, and quite painful, hence the blog title. I am quite sure I am covered in bruises more often than not. Feel free to imagine me in anything from gis to boxing gloves to military camo. Whatever tickles your fancy. I have two instructors (/trainers/senseis/etc) and both are some of the most incredible people you may ever have the fortune of meeting. To easily distinguish them, let us call the more senior one the master -and yes, it does tie in nicely with the double meaning- and the other one the instructor. I’m not quite sure how to describe Master S, or by his given name, Karim* – though you will have a loong long blog ahead that attempts to do just that. He is a good looking man (that is the conservative term verified by other people, in my own view that jumps directly to ‘insanely attractive’), slightly older than double my age, really funny, really intelligent, really … I can go on indefinitely, at one point I literally had to sit down and focus intensely on trying to find a single fault he might have. I didn’t at the time. I know him better now, he’s not actually punctually perfect – only on average. And the thing is… for any of you who are into historical/fantasy romance, and you get this alpha-male coming in, relatively average, and then he starts moving? He fights someone, brandishes a sword, does some fancy kung-fu moves and all the panties in the audience suddenly drop? To me, that always sounded unrealistic. Until I met Karim. Seeing him move is a freaking revelation. It’s poetry in motion, or looks like he doesn’t need touch the ground, or whatever literary flourish you might want me to produce, but in short – it. is. HOT. It actually makes my mouth water, and it’s not once that I had to shift my body weight because I was getting too wet just watching him. I decided in the exact first 5 minutes of coming to his class that I am going to do this [sport] for the rest of my life. It probably took far less than that to decide I want to see how his skills translate into the bedroom.
*Disclaimer: Karim is not his real name. His actual name, for some reason, sounds absolutely delicious to me, and the first time I heard it I ran home and did a really stupid schoolgirl-with-a-crush thing and just repeated it for ages. Karim is the closest I could come to that effect, and it took me forever to settle on it. The meaning might have influenced my decisio – ‘generous’. Out of that long list of qualities, one that I have to specifically mention is his kindness. It always struck me how much time and effort, consideration and respect he is willing to give others. I was just one student in a big class, and he was the most knowledgeable person on earth, yet he always treated me like I was a… person, like I was important, like, in a very strange way, I was his equal, because what I did and said and thought was just as valid and relevant. It’s possibly a bit of a sad reflection on my social interactions that this behaviour is so shocking to me, but I honestly don’t think there are that many people who are quite so good in the world.
This blog. To be honest, I don’t know how this blog would go. It might be cheesy, romantic, full of emotional rants, or it might be straight-up hot and steamy erotica. What I do know, though, is that everything I write is REAL. This is my actual life. Sure, I will take some liberties to cover up the moronic responses I sometimes produce, or to make the action flow smoother or make up for the many many parts that aren’t included (I’m not going to document every single glance we share, after all), but generally speaking, if you like the story, it’s not because I am a great writer (though obviously I am), it is because I am lucky enough to have a freaking awesome life. This is also an on-going story. At the moment I write this, things have already been happening, but I have absolutely no idea which way they will go. Maybe we fall madly in love with each other, maybe I end up doing things that make 50 Shades run away in shame, maybe tomorrow we part ways and never see each other again, and maybe a week after that I’ll be obsessed with a whole new other person. The plan though is for the main posts to be about me and Karim, with maybe some extras about other things I did, fantasies, or just random sexy made-up stories.
Because this actually is my real life, I will obviously be rather stingy with details. All the names will be changed, all the things that make anybody easily identifiable will be avoided or talked about in vague terms. If you think you know who I am, congrats, please keep it to yourself. If you actually know both me and Karim, I apologize for the emotional trauma you might have gone through learning all this about your instructor, and for your own sake, please never ask either of us for confirmation. At this moment in time, Karim is not even aware of the existence or my plans for this blog. (I will probably try to cut down on the very emotional, heart-shaped eyes emoji posts, in case I do tell him, and he hopefully doesn’t run off as fast as he can.) But otherwise, sit back and enjoy. Picture yourself in my or his shoes. Or just take it as a hot fantasy. Because, whatever else it will be, I can promise you this…
It will be hot.
~ Let’s call me Mei