A portrait of Milica

Women about whom I write often complain that, when I describe them, I do so with little detail, too little praise. This is particularly true of women about whom I’ve written for a while. But it’s true even of newbies to my blog, to my life. I tend to use words like “spectacular,” “beautiful,” “pretty,” and to describe them objectively – their height, their measurements.

I do this because – well, because, while generally, I date smoking hot women, I’m not, actually, looksist. The reasons I don’t date women rarely have anything to do with looks, but rather, with something much more amorphous – chemistry. And, I often don’t have chemistry with women who are quite hot.

Milica, though, is… different… from most of the women I’ve dated, and she merits a portrait.

A physical portrait

First off, she’s nearly six feet tall. The only other woman I’ve dated who was that tall was the Rockette. Second, she’s… striking…. I don’t mean “hot.” As I said, I pretty much only date smoking hot women. But Milica is, truly, striking. Like, when she walks down the street – as she did with me walking behind her, recently, every head turns. It’s not like most women, who elicit leers from a certain population of men. It’s, like, everyone turns. Old women turn. Kids turn. And yes, men turn.

I’ll try to capture just how, just why, she captures attention as dramatically, as comprehensively, as she does. First, of course, her height. A 6-foot-tall woman is striking, period. Add to that: she’s got lustrous, long, dark brown hair. It’s straight, shiny. I’ve seen it first thing in the morning, and, I don’t know how she does it, but – her hair ALWAYS looks as if she just had it professionally done. Even when it’s bedhead. Her breasts are medium-sized, her hips are wide. Her hips are looooong. She’s very curvy. You’ve seen a plethora of photos here of her, so you can judge for yourself. But. She’s got a model’s body.

Her face is long, slender, and she has a slightly aquiline nose. Her lips are full. Her eyes are, I think, greenish hazel. I can’t quite remember (notwithstanding the fact that they, only very recently, were staring up at me, filled with hunger, as she sloppily sucked my cock). They’re bright white. Her cheekbones are (vertiginously) high. Her eyebrows are meticulously sculpted. Dark. Angular. I’ve rarely seen her without expertly done eye makeup. And, when she comes, her cheeks turn a bright red that overwhelms any rouge she may or may not already have on. And then, she starts laughing.

A personality portrait

Milica is young. Younger than any woman I’ve dated in a long time. Like, since I was her age. She’s legal. And legal to drink. But she’s not much older than that. And it’s telling that I feel some shame about her age.

I’ve written dozens of times that I prefer older women, and I do, but somehow, though I keep writing that, I keep ending up dating women in their 30s and 20s. I recently began a promising flirtation with the first woman I’ve met on an app in years – she’s my age, and I was excited. But then, she seems to have disappeared. She had a family vacation. She was just opening up her marriage. And maybe it closed? I don’t know. There was another woman about my age who seemed super-promising, but, as she unfolded herself to me, I began to sense, and then to know, that there wasn’t going to be chemistry. She didn’t do anything wrong; I just noted my bodily response to the mountains of words she was sending me – both to the heights of the mountains, and to their crags and crannies. Maybe I’m kidding myself. Maybe I really do prefer younger women. I don’t think so, though….

Anyway, Milica….

Milica is… proper. Reserved. She says, “not expressive, not trusting.” She sits up very straight. She speaks deliberately. Not formally, but deliberately. She’s educated. In grad school. She’s confident, and her voice communicates her intelligence and her confidence. She speaks several languages, having been raised in a trilingual home. She follows current events, and is well read. In short: she’s a good conversationalist, and interesting. [A note, with two parts: her voice is a little more… definitive… than I usually find attractive; I recently heard a recording of her talking with a girlfriend, and her voice with her was much hotter to me than the voice she uses with me. Less guarded. Less protected. Less defended.]

Sexually, Milica is, unquestionably, old beyond her years. She’s a slut, to be sure. She has done the sugar-ing thing, with a couple of sugar daddies in a couple of cities. I have the sense, though, that sugar-ing is more about the guys than about the money. (I don’t pay her, except for the 3 or 4 times we’ve stretched.) She really likes sex, and is just fine with having it with someone new, whom she doesn’t know. She’s happily collecting experiences, and doesn’t seem particularly protective of her pussy. Or her ass. (See this post.)

This gets to something about her that’s… interesting. And goes along with the way I described her voice. Milica has a certain… bloodlessness?… to her. A not-quite-detached, but not quite connected – way of being. It’s hitched to both her confidence and her defendedness – again, her characterization of this is that she is cautious, not expressive, and prone to distrusting those she doesn’t know well. A couple of examples: when I compliment her, her response, inevitably, has the formal structure of appreciation, but sounds like a pro forma acknowledgement. As if what she’s really saying isn’t “Thank you!” but, “Yes, I know.” It’s not obnoxious. It’s not dismissive. But neither is it enthusiastic or appreciative. Partly, I imagine, it’s because it’s true – she does know. It’s hard, I imagine, to be Milica, and not know that whatever compliment I might bestow on her is true. Which presents a challenge to me, when it comes to complimenting her! [Note to self: that’s a good challenge to give myself – compliment Milica in ways that make her blush!]

Add to that: her bloodlessness extends to sex/uality. When we were at Checkmate, she was just down with sucking strangers’ cocks, having them in her cunt, having them in her ass. She fucked someone she told me she wasn’t particularly attracted to, but she liked having his cock in her. She goes out, gets hit on, and assesses who might be “fun to fuck.” She has a collection of guys she fucks. She went on a date recently, and she confessed to cruelly toying with the guy.

I have a hunch this confidence, this poise, this defendedness, obscures at least a little anxiety, a little self-doubt. But I don’t have much of a feel for what the doubt is. This confuses me a little: usually, I read people pretty intuitively. When someone is defended, I often can see pretty clearly just what’s being defended, just what the structure of the defense is, and what its purpose is. With Milica, it all feels a bit mysterious.

And then, her relationship with me intrigues me.

Milica wants to be a good girl for me. She wants to please me, not to disappoint me. She wants to excel. And, almost always, she does. She is diligent, hard-working, thoughtful, and thorough. She pays attention to what I ask and strives to give it to me, perfectly. Here, too, the bloodlessness is present: it’s as if she’s doing a job really well. Which she is. And which, honestly, I crave! So it’s perfect. But maybe it’s that it feels like – while she wants to excel at the job, she perfectly well could do without it.

All of which has an interesting impact on me. When I think back to V – the woman I dated who was most similar in her devotion to fulfilling my desires – V had a palpable hunger. Like, she was on the edge of tears when she begged for my cock. Milica performs hunger. Or maybe that’s not quite right. It’s like, she’s hungry, but the stakes are low. Like, with V, I had the genuine sense that if I didn’t feed her my cock, she was going to die. With Milica? I have the sense that she wants my cock, but that she’ll be just fine, thanks very much, without it. Which isn’t to say that she doesn’t say the right words! She does. She’ll even beg. But the begging is words. It’s not need. I think?

Maybe this is information about me. Maybe I’ve failed to make her starve for my cock.

When I said to her the other day, “You’re going to have to suck my cock for a loooong time,” she said, “You mean I get to….” And while I believed she meant it, I also had a feeling that, somehow, the fact that the cock we were discussing is attached to me didn’t matter all that much. Or maybe not that it didn’t matter, but that it was, on some level, fungible. Or like, she really likes cock-sucking in the way that I really like chocolate. Not in the way that I like going down on a woman I like (which has an intensity, an urgency, a need to it)….

That’s fine. Impressive, even. It’s just so fucking foreign to me!

Like, I love getting to know a woman so that I can want her. When I’m in a sex club – as Milica (and Charlotte) and I were the other night – I just don’t find even the hottest people all that attractive, because… there’s no context to the sex that’s on offer. When I dove into Nora’s cunt, it was fun, but… it was more about physical sensations than anything else. And, for me, great sex mostly takes place in my mind. I’m not sure where Milica stands on this. As she was being railed by various guys, only some of whom she found attractive (and, a note: because of both her youth and her beauty, there was not a man at Checkmate who wasn’t raring to fuck her), she seemed pretty happy. And she was happy, at the end of the night, to have had some sex and collected some stories. [Even if my handling of the bad news my friend had received left her rightly, justifiably unhappy, about which, perhaps, more anon….]

There you have it. A comprehensive description of Milica. And, at the end, a compliment that, I hope, will make her blush.

The compliment

Milica’s looks distract everyone from what’s actually interesting about her – her unique perspective on the world, only part of which comes from her interesting upbringing, but more of which comes from the power she wields over pretty much everyone she encounters by virtue of her looks. And not just her perspective, but the thoughtful way she’s integrated that perspective into her experience of the world. And her mystery? It’s profound.

There. Did that work?

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