Random Rim Jobs
I swear. True story.International Day, and Night
Posted on May 17, 2009My neighbors, Rose and Dieter, met in Germany. Dieter is German, and consequently he and Rose often host German friends when they’re in town. They had two German friends staying with them when I was invited out to lunch with them at Papalote. Yum.
I was the only person at the table who did not speak German. Everyone spoke English very well, but understandably conversation would slip into the comfort zone of three of the five people present (and a language one other of the five could understand and speak very well). Which I loved. I really do like listening to the rhythm of a language I can’t understand. Because I don’t have the ability to listen to the content, I can listen to the cadence. The sounds are less coherent communication and more music to my ears. Even German–a language which has been accused of auditory assault–sounds lovely when articulated by a native speaker.
Later that day, I ventured to the Marina to attend my friend’s book signing. She illustrated a children’s book, Freckleface Strawberry and the Dodgeball Bully. Julianne Moore wrote the book so the signing was packed with people and their little brats.
I dipped out to a bar, where I met a British bloke. I chatted him up, and got his business card with his home number on the back. Apparently he’s the person without a cell phone. I’m definitely going to call him, if for no other reason than he’ll take me out to eat–I’m a food nerd.
Then back to the book store, where the signing had thankfully ended. Met my friend’s husband and kid, congratulated the friend on her book, and saw Julianne Moore. I opted for silence over saying something supremely stupid, but did exchange smiles with Ms. Moore. She is beautiful in person. And shorter than I expected.
I do not go to the Marina often. It is not my kind of neighborhood. I like gritty; in San Francisco I’ve lived only in the Tenderloin and the Mission. The Marina is too damn clean for me. But mostly it’s the people who live there that don’t appeal to me. I refer to the Marina as LA North. I dig LA–loved living there when I did–but the pressure of having to put on the right outfit and full make-up just to go to the damn corner store for some fucking wine is too much silliness. And that pressure comes from the people who shoot dirty looks when I go to the corner store in flip-flops and–shock–no mascara.
But, as I was already there, I thought I should take advantage of it. Only it was a Tuesday, and not much was going on. I went into another bar and sat amongst the five people already there. As it was still early–and dead–the staff had little to do. Watching bar staff reminds me of the old pool hall days. The camaraderie of bar work simply can’t be equaled in an office.
Finally, the Marina was boring me, so I hopped on the first of two buses I needed to take me back to the dirty Mission. I changed buses at Fillmore and Geary. Actually, I saw a bar at Fillmore and Geary and dipped in for another drink.
The Boom Boom Room was deader than the Marina bar had been, but I wanted another drink, dammit. I was finishing up my drink and about to leave when in walked a group of guys. How convenient.
They were a group of soccer players, I think; drunk Shazam doesn’t listen too well. Drunk Shazam did, however, realize that English was most definitely not their first language.
Two of the guys were chatting with me. One of them spoke no English so the other acted as translator. I got to hear them talk to each other in Spanish during the translation process. And that’s when I decided I would be fucking these two men.
I told the one who could speak English, Pedro (sure, that works), that I wanted them both to come back to my place and fuck me. I made it clear that our goal was to DP me so they had to be ok with seeing one another’s dicks, and with having them touch. I was not about to have two hot, but uptight, guys to my place. Pedro affirmed that they would happily fulfill my need to have my ass and my pussy fucked simultaneously.
We hopped in a cab, stopped at a liquor store–because more drinks were surely required, right?–and then went to my house. They made drinks and smoked on my patio while I took Isis out. Only my dog knows how much of a slut I am.
Spoiler alert: I still have not experienced the glory I imagine is getting DP’d. I will some day, dammit. That night I was too fucking drunk. While a bit of alcohol can be nice for eliminating those pesky inhibitions, too much and things just don’t work properly.
And because I was too wasted, I have only snippets of memory once the three of us were in my bedroom. I do recall making it VERY clear that condoms would be required. I have a huge supply thanks to San Francisco City Clinic and recall repeating, “Condoms” and, “You have a condom on, right?” Not too sexy–the repeating, not the insistence on using protection.
We did attempt, a couple of times I think, our goal. But it just wasn’t happening. Even for a basic ass fuck I need to relax and breathe and mentally and physically open up. This drunk idiot is not capable of that much thought. This sober girl wants so badly to feel a cock in her pussy and her ass concurrently, and will definitely be making it happen, and soon.
All the while, Pedro and the other guy were talking to each other in Spanish. I’ve lived in California all my life so I’m used to hearing Spanish, as spoken by both Mexicans and Chicanos. The Ex speaks Spanish nicely. These guys, however, were South American, so the lilt of their speech sounded new and exciting. So fucking hot. I love hearing a language I can’t understand, and I love being spoken about as if I’m not there. I had both with Pedro and the other one. It was in so many ways the perfect situation and I fucked it up by being too damn drunk. Boo, me.
I think I fucked both of them. I assume I sucked both of them–because I want all the cocks in my mouth–all of them.
Eventually, they took their leave and the next morning (Isis assures I get up early no matter what) the only evidence of their presence was the bottle of vodka and the massive quantity of condoms, and condom wrappers, on my bedroom floor.
I swear. True story.
Pointers for Guys Engaging in Casual Sex, No. 1
Posted on May 16, 2009I have a good opinion of casual sex; I wouldn’t keep doing it if I didn’t. However, every once in a while I am amazed at the balls–the gall, not the size–of some of the men I’ve fucked. But, let’s just assume they’re ignorant, not dickwads. In that case, they need pointers, and I am here to help. This is the first in a series. More to come.
Having casual sex with someone does not give you license to be an asshole, or to be thoughtless. One-night stands are fun, but if you want to go back for more, or to assure your reputation as a good lay (bitches on Twitter truly do sing like birds, I assure you) then treat the lady with respect. A slut is still a lady, just as a player is still a gentleman.
I choose to host my fucks–because I like snoozing after I come, and because I have pets–so these tips are geared toward the gentleman caller who goes to the lady’s home, but with some thought these pointers can apply to any combination of gender, host, guest, voyeur, or so on.
- Walk in with a gift for your host–a bottle of wine will usually do, and pot is often welcome. If she’s in AA, you’ll have to be more creative–maybe coffee and cigarettes? Don’t assume you and your cock are enough. You’ll be amazed at how generous she’ll be in kind. If you do not utilize the gift with her–which is at her discretion–do not even attempt to take it with you when you leave. Or do, and chances are she’ll be as ungenerous with you–by not inviting you back to her home, or body.
- If you consume anything she’s offered, you should return the generous gift in kind. Again, you and your cock are not enough. Nothing in her home was free, buddy. Think about how much you’re saving by not having to do the usual three-dates-then-a-grope dating bullshit, and repay your host accordingly. This includes beverages–even non-alcoholic ones. Did you drink some bottled water? Bring bottled water AND the host gift the next time you go over to get some action.
- If you’re ashamed you’re fucking her, don’t. She’s not your girlfriend–you don’t need to introduce her to Mama–but neither of you should feel debased for the great sex you’re having. Chances are, if one of you feels embarrassed to be with the other, your sex isn’t all that good anyway. You love fucking fat chicks but don’t want your buddies to know? Get the fuck over yourself, and don’t punish her for your hangup. Besides, public sex antics are, you know, in public. You need to be able to take her out every once in a while.
Take these to heart, men. You WILL get laid more often if you’re not a douche. The series shall continue …
I swear. True story.
Meg and TD
Posted on May 15, 2009This, with minimal editing, is Meg’s first-person, next-day, recounting of one of the best nights anyone has ever had. I’m assuming, ’cause I certainly have never experienced anything like this. Nor have I ever heard (or read) anyone quite so effusive. Makes me want to fuck both Meg and TD–separately, and together. And y’all can thank Meg for the HOT photos as well. Both the post and the photos are Random Rim Jobs exclusives so don’t think you’ll get this fun elsewhere.
Meg, in her own words:
Yesterday was fantastic. Even Starbucks was nice. It was a break from my routine and I’m not used to that.
He came by my house. I don’t know why, but I like that he’s seen my house. From my house we went to Starbucks to put a sandwich in my belly and to find a hotel closer to my house, which was a sweet gesture. He’s much sweeter than he’d care to admit.
Then we went to the river. Honestly, that may have been what really tipped the scales. We just relaxed in the shade with the wind blowing. We talked some, I stared at those eyes some–I can see them in my head just thinking about them–but mostly we sat and relaxed. I don’t know why but I feel really comfortable around him; even the first night when I was nervous, I wasn’t uncomfortable.
We left the river, he dropped me off at home, and he went to go navigate traffic, get lost, and eventually find his hotel. I went to be Mom for a few hours. The hotel had a 24-hour hot tub so after getting dinner set at home, I packed my suit and headed out. The drive down wasn’t bad and the hotel was nice.
I found his room, 711, and knocked. He had a nice big bed so I straddled him while we chit-chatted about what we were going to do that night. That somehow led to me sitting on his face. It was still early evening with light coming through the window so I could see his eyes looking at me. If I could have focused for longer than a few seconds I would’ve just stared at those eyes. But focusing on anything becomes impossible when his mouth is busy on my box.
Somehow he ended up naked while I still had my clothes on–sans the blue panties 
of course–which was opposite of the night before. He pounded my pussy fantastically. I have bruises on my elbows and knees from that. I’m sure I came, as I’ve come so much in the past two days it’s hard to keep up. Oh wait! I know I did because he told me I did one of his favorite things–I got girl come all over his dick.
At one point I came from just his balls slapping my clit, which has never happened before. I love that feeling–balls slapping me while getting pounded and the sound of it–and it’s even better when it provides an orgasm in the process. Win.
We went down to the hot tub and relaxed and chatted. Which was nice. I don’t know why he’s so easy for me to be around but he’s the first boy in a while whose company I’ve enjoyed for more than a bang. After a bit we went to his room, changed and went down the road for some food. But no drinks, which was nice. And again, rare. Of late, it’s uncommon for me to hang out with a boy without drinking, either to ease the tension or make me actually want to fuck him.
Then we went to this weird little gas station where we got Sugar Free Red Bull (the 
GIANT kind) and he got me a little present–a C-3PO Pez dispenser. I know this gift may sound silly but he knows I like that shit. He’s really fucking sweet, even though he’ll totally deny it. [He can't now. --SSF] He sat close and pulled me near and kiss me randomly, all of which I like a lot and made me feel even more comfortable around him, which all lead to last night’s explosion.
It’s his fault the night became centered on me. I don’t even know how things started other than us getting naked. But I do remember him doing something to my sweet little box and telling me about something he’d read about squirting. I tried to tell him something I’d read about it being a myth. It’s really hard to talk when there’s someone doing what he was doing down there though.
Around this time the “witch” noise, as he described it, came out. I’d never heard myself do it before but found myself going there multiple times last night and found that it was a bit of a warning as to what was to come.
I didn’t make him pull away when I got really sensitive down there, which he said most girls do. I’m normally one of those girls, but not with him. I didn’t make him pull back, I just let him keep going. The boy really fucking knows what he’s doing down there. Really. And I know this will swell his head, but I don’t care, he’s fucking good.
I’m sure I’d had numerous orgasms–well into double digits–as he started to tell me about this thing he’d read and doing whatever it told him to do. I could feel what he was talking about and could almost feel myself spilling over but didn’t at first. After this first attempt he completely pounded my ass. 
Fuckdamn, that was a good ass pounding. My ass bone is still wonderfully sore it was so good. It was a very aggressive ass reaming, which is something I really needed. Apparently he did too because he sure gave it his all.
We recuperated from that, I tweeted about it, and at some point very shortly after he tried the squirting thing again. And then things went into a blurry euphoria. I remember feeling something intense as he seemed to be pulling away. Or maybe I “sprayed” on him and that caught him off guard and he pulled back. Either way, I then became completely possessed.
I couldn’t control myself and I had the most intense orgasm, unlike any other–it was like it was coming from the inside and permeating through my clit. It was euphoric and fantastic. He laid there and watched the show. I don’t know how long that intensity went on–probably around 10 minutes. I got really dry right after that (which he took care of with his magical mouth) but then for at least the next hour I was still having an orgasm or orgasms.
The slightest move or laugh, or if he’d tweet about something, or anything or nothing, and it’d go again–not as intense as it was at first but it was sustaining and that was intense all in itself. He fucked me during this time, which is all a blur, but I do remember that it felt fucking amazing.
After he fucked me I had to pee. Actually, I felt like I was going to pee all over him while he was fucking me. He had my ass up in the air but I was on my back and his dick was hitting my bladder or something around there. I swear to god I had a fucking orgasm when I went to pee. Fucking crazy.
The bedspread was soaked, I’m sure we were too, my girl come soaked everything. I was in a solid stupor for some time. For a while I was still having little tremors and my whole body was shaking from the inside, my pussy was like its own vibrator.
I have never, ever, never, felt anything so intense or have ever been so comfortable with anyone, sexually, to let myself go like that. I’m glad we refrained from drinking so that we could both fully experience the moment. Or moments, rather.
The only thing missing was that I really, really, really, wanted him to come all over me. I wanted to feel him come inside me, in my mouth. God, I wanted to taste him so damn bad. But I could hardly think or move or focus so I never got back to focusing on him before I passed out snuggled up next to him. So it’s really his fault that I wasn’t coherent enough to do him justice last night–he started the madness.
I felt like I was on drugs or drunk or something. Complete euphoria. I was laughing and almost crying at some points. I was curled up in a ball, sprawled out, whimpering, moaning–I honestly don’t even know what all I was doing. I fell off the bed at one point, which was funny as hell. Regardless, I always felt comfortable and free to let it out and no pressure, which is why it was all able to happen.
And it wasn’t like I had to rub myself in the least–I didn’t. If my hand was down there, I was just holding it there, kinda like I do after you have an orgasm, just putting pressure on my clit. That’s the only thing I’d do and I did that out of pure instinct.
The orgasm, or whatever you want to call it, was coming from the inside, from exactly where he’d said was the spot to make all this happen. It’s funny I was trying to tell him this was all a myth minutes before I went into convulsions.
He wanted me to call you at the beginning of this but I could hardly talk. He talked to me and I tried to talk back, but random words in no particular order ended up coming out. I don’t know if he turns all girls into bumbling messes, but he turned me into one.
About the squirting: I thought I knew my self/body better than that–I would have NEVER thought any of that would be possible. Fuck, my pussy is getting all worked up again just thinking about it. I kid you not. I want his fingers inside of me, and him near me. Even though my entire body is sore and feels so blissfully used, my little box wants more. What the hell?
Also, I’ve never said, “What the fuck?!” so many times in my life. It was like I was just along for a ride my body was taking. Fucking intense. I know this is long and rambling but I don’t want to forget anything that’s not already blurry and if too much time passes I’m worried I’ll forget the details. I want documentation, so you’re getting a tome all about the most amazing night of pleasure I’ve ever had.
I know TD’s going to get a big head but he deserves it for this one. This was different. I was sober and not expecting anything like that. So, my sweet little TD, job well done. Very well done.
Of course I had to leave in the wee hours, around 4:00 or 5:00 am, which I hated. I really wanted to wake up next to him and have great morning sex, but duty called and I needed to be home when the little one woke. One of these days I’ll wake up next to him and we’ll have a good morning fuck.
TD has requested an orgasm count. I’m going to try. Well over 10 before the squirting ever started. The most I have EVER come at one time was when I was masturbating. Somehow I came back-to-back around 20 times, or I stopped counting at 20. If I could possibly pick out all the details from last night and count accurately it would be well over 20. The hour I was coming was full of big orgasms and little tremors, but it was just one giant orgasm anyway. I know it sounds crazy and honestly, I really think this is undershooting it, but I’m going with 30+. Although I know it had to be more than that.
And there were so many different ones! I’ve never had such variety of orgasms in one night. Pretty sure the majority of the bedspread was soaked at one point. [This is one of the reasons hotel bedspreads immediately go on the floor. Though Meg juice is welcome on my spread any time. --SSF] And I’d soak his face and mouth and chin and he’d bring it to my mouth–I’d never tasted myself so much before. I loved licking myself off of his prickly face. I seriously could go on and on, but I’ll spare you the gushing (ha, pun totally intended).
In conclusion, he’s really fucking sweet, his mouth is beyond talented and we went to the river together. I’d really like to cuddle up on the riverside with him again. That was really nice. And again, unexpected. This whole thing was unexpected really. Dammit, I’m gushing. Ok, that’s it.
I’m done. For now.
Teach Me How to Fuck Your Guy’s Ass
Posted on May 14, 2009I placed an ad on Craig’s List under w4mw Casual Encounters with the headline, “Teach Me How to Fuck Your Guy’s Ass.” My intent was to find mw couples who were already engaging in pegging so they would have the equipment, and so she could show me, via both demonstration and instruction, how to fuck ass properly.
I wanted a woman to teach me because she assumably had the same problem I feared–not being able to feel the phallus used in the harness. I did not want to get the equipment myself and fuck some guy’s ass without any lessons for fear that I’d hurt him (any more than he desired–which is NOT to say ass fucking should hurt; it should not).
I got many responses, as per usual with CL. A LOT of the respondents clearly were instituting the gunshot approach by responding to every listing that had been placed by a woman (or a “woman” bot). These sex hunters shoot their email buckshot far and wide without concern for their sexy prey. My ad was very specific, yet I had a number of responses from men who’d never been pegged and who didn’t have partners. Also, several responses from guys who wanted to fuck my ass. I dig getting my ass fucked, but that wasn’t going to help me learn how to fuck properly with a strap-on. Besides, I had been been the anally receptive partner countless times; it was my turn to top, dammit.
Through email exchanges I settled on one couple I could tell was experienced in the fine art of pegging. S&E live in the next neighborhood, Bernal Heights, so we decided to meet at a local dive bar, the 3300 Club. They are in their mid-30s and she and I have the same first name, so we already had at least two things in common–names and the desire to fuck her husband in the ass. We chatted over drinks, and then I went to the bathroom.
Always when meeting couples for the first time I go to the bathroom to give them the opportunity to talk about me. And check out my ass (duh). I think it’s polite to afford them time to determine whether they’re both attracted to me and whether they want to share their bed with me. I was hoping to be a guest in S&E’s sex life, so other than my participation, everything was up to them. We had already established our ground rules via email–E’s cock would not be entering my pussy–but otherwise anything was game provided we all wanted things to go forward.
I returned from the bathroom and S very sweetly told me, “We like you” with a big dumb grin on her face. So cute! What a nice ego boost to be told a couple finds me so interesting and sexy and fun that they both want to have their way with me.
Some weeks later I walked to their house for the big event. We had drinks and played with their dogs (not like that, you sick fucks). Eventually we went to their bedroom (the dogs were locked away in the garage). I was very nervous about strapping on and fucking him. They showed me their toys and S put on the harness to show me it wasn’t intimidating at all.
S with a cock wasn’t the least bit scary; actually, she was sexy as hell. She strutted around the bedroom showing off her big dick. I wanted to know how she fucked with it. Somehow, instead of demonstrating by fucking E’s ass, her cock found its way into my pussy.
It was a new sensation for me–having a woman with smooth skin and soft flesh pounding away at me with her cock. While she was fucking me from behind, my mouth found its way to E’s prick. Because of this experience I now know that one of my all-time favorite things is getting my pussy pounded from behind whilst my mouth is full of cock.
One of the great things about being fucked with a dildo is that it’s always hard. E shot his load–which I happily gobbled down–and was enjoying the after glow, all while S continued banging away at my cunt. Eventually she tired of working her hips to fuck me. Then the three of us did various things that three horny people do together until we were all exhausted.
We did not, however, ever get around to me fucking his ass. We had a great time, and I was definitely not disappointed in any way as I stumbled home, drunk on both drink and sex.
We got together a second time, and once again we got distracted from our main goal when when E’s cock went in my mouth and S’s cock went in my cunt. I think I’d choose that “position” if I had to fuck just one way for the rest of my life, though I’m glad I don’t have to make such a harrowing choice.
I was beginning to think I was never going to get a chance to fuck man ass. I lamented my fate to Mr. Zip, a friend with whom I speak about my sexual adventures at least once a week. Mr. Zip has no interest in getting pegged so he didn’t even volunteer to help me out of my woeful situation.
I was considering placing another CL ad with a similar headline until I got another email from S&E requesting my presence at their place.
I walked there a third time. S was wearing a floor-length, high-necked night gown that would have been matronly but for the fact that it was constructed of extremely sheer cotton. She looked so at-ease and sexy in the gown that I was immediately put on sex alert. Being able see her tits at attention as soon as I walked in the front door made me realize that night would not be like the previous two we had spent together. I was very much distracted by being able to see S’s body beneath the gown. S sensed this, I’m sure, because she soon went into the bedroom–removing her nightie on the way.
E and I followed her into the bedroom. This time I made it clear that I was not going to pass up my opportunity to fuck his ass; that I would be distracted neither by a hard cock in my mouth nor my twat. S helped me into the harness and assumed the role of Sexy Professor of Ass Fuck. She was an excellent instructor.
E got on his hands and knees. S pulled out the lube. She lubed up her fingers and loosened up his ass as she told me what he he liked. She talked about him as if he were merely an object, which was very fucking hot. I watched her lubed fingers slide into and out of his ass. She assured me his ass was clean and ready to be fucked. Eventually, I got behind him and slid my lubed cock into his ass VERY slowly.
E made it obvious he was enjoying himself, which I appreciated. I tentatively slid my cock into his ass as I got used to the feeling and sight of pushing into him. It felt so fucking hot to slowly slip into his pretty little ass.
And then I wanted to fuck. The harness was well-placed and I just wanted to pound his ass, hard. Harder. I grabbed onto his hips and pulled his ass toward me. I thrust, the pressure growing each time I jammed my cock into his asshole. S, and any comments she may have been making, faded into the background because I was fucking.
I was making guttural noises–fuck sounds–as I pounded his ass. His cock was so hard. I reached around so I could stroke it but he told S that he couldn’t handle that much stimulation. Only I could barely understand what was going on so she had to push my hand away. He pushed back into my cock as I thrust into him. I grabbed onto his shoulders so I could pull his whole body onto my cock; so I could fuck him even more ferociously.
Every time I checked in with him to make sure he was excited by what was going on he grunted in approval. I lost track of S and it was just me and my cock and E. Eventually E turned over–so I could fuck him face-to-face.
With us facing each other I needed to be gentler, but any thrill lost from savagely fucking his ass was made up for by seeing his face–as I continued to thrust into him. He looked so pretty. I looked into his eyes and I knew how men must feel when they’re fucking women. The look of utter surrender and pleasure on his face was wonderful.
I continued to slide the dildo into his ass until I was becoming too distracted by his hard cock. Looking down at the erection that I was causing was fucking hot. I was sorry that it was too much for him to let me bob my head down and suck it at that point. Eventually I began to hear S talking; I hadn’t realized she had been cheering us on all along.
Finally, I pulled out and lie next to him. We were both panting. I took the harness off and S took it and the dildo it contained away. I asked E if he would give me an assessment of how I’d done, but he wasn’t ready just yet; he was still processing.
I think I did a good fucking job (pun intended).
I swear. True story.
It’s come to my attention that I left y’all hanging. I’m sorry I didn’t help you blow your collective wad.
I still don’t know E’s assessment of my skills, as I’ve not seen S and E again. We’ve exchanged emails and they’ve assured me that they dig my scene, but that they’re busy with the boring life stuff.
Life Savers Candy® Roll
Posted on May 13, 2009Many moons ago I was ShazamLA, Pasadena specifically. I worked in a bar/pool hall/restaurant where I had the opportunity to meet many men (including the Ex). I was a host so it was my job to greet the customers, play music (if I never hear “Hotel California” again, I’ll be fine), and take people to their pool tables to rack their balls (insert ball joke here). Yes, I did rack the balls in such a way that my own rack did a bit of a dance. Hey, my tits are nice and I liked getting tips–don’t judge me.
When I was at my station there was plenty of opportunity for guys to chat me up–I couldn’t go anywhere. Sadly, the conversations were all very similar. Because it was LA I was always asked what else I do, I think because they assumed I’d say I was an aspiring actress. I was not. I was attending junior college (I believe the same one that James Deen–swoon–also attended, albeit many years later.) and often studied during my down time at work. The studying allowed for more questions, all lame. Sometimes I chatted just to entertain myself. Horny drunk guys can used for entertainment purposes, then as now.
One guy I met was a cool rockabilly type. Up to that point he was the only guy I’d dated/fucked who had more tattoos than me. Not on purpose, that’s just the way it worked out. Along with having a full sleeve, he also had a cool car (the make and model of which I have no damn clue), and greased hair. Through our conversations I learned that both of his parents were deaf so he knew sign language, which is so interesting. We got along very well.
He came over to my place and we watched a movie on my little 13″ Montgomery Ward tv (I still have it, in my bedroom). We started making out. I’ll admit I was worried for my sheets because of his hair grease, but apparently he didn’t overdo it and the sheets were fine. He was a VERY good kisser. I can kiss for hours, and that’s not just something I say. I really can kiss and kiss and kiss.
During make-out sessions there are, of course, opportunities to show off one’s hip-action skills. A good dry humper is usually also a good fucker. He was very good. I was having a lovely time, though I did have to avoid running my fingers through his hair for fear I’d mess up the ‘do, and get all greasy.
Things progressed. Back then I was much less sure of myself in general and much less comfortable with penises in particular. My style was closed eyes and opened legs. I feel quite bad for the guys I fucked back then. Maybe I should offer them a repeat to protect my reputation ….
Anyway, we fucked. I think. He certainly acted like he was fucking me. I, however, couldn’t feel a thing. NOTHING. Again, this was a while ago. My pussy now can, and does, accommodate large objects, both flesh and toy. My sex toy arsenal back then consisted of ONE rather average-sized dildo and, well, that was it. (Can there be an arsenal of one?)
Nonetheless, I simply could not feel his penis in my pussy. He finished and left. It was then that things began to make sense. He had told me the last woman he’d fucked had simply faded away; that he had liked her and had wanted to see her again, but that she never called him after the sex. Because there was no point in having sex with this guy more than once. Back then I worried a lot about what others thought of me, so I was concerned about diplomatically cutting this guy loose. I had no interest in pretending to feel that thing in me a second time.
I needed advice from my friends on how to deal with this guy. I talked to my coworkers the next time I went in to work. I told them that we’d had sex but I could not feel a thing. They were incredulous–no penis is THAT small. Yes, sadly, it was that small. How small? Trying to put it into perspective, I looked at objects around the bar and saw a roll of Life Savers Candy®. “That size,” I said, pointing it out. No joke. Just as I was telling yet another coworker my–well, his–sad story, in he walked.
I was stuck at my work station and he went off to do what tiny-dicked guys do at bars. Apparently, that is making out with the woman he’s not supposedly dating in front of the coworkers of the woman he is supposedly dating. A coworker was nice enough to report to me that he was out on the bar’s patio sucking face with someone, not me.
Wha?! I was upset, but not that he was making out with someone else, because that was exactly what I needed to get out of the “relationship.” But why did he have to make out with someone at my place of work, while I was on shift, and in front of my coworkers? I looked like the fool, when the truth was he was packing a minuscule excuse for a penis.
So I played a song and dedicated it to him: the (unfortunately) edited version of “Short Dick Man”. Never saw him again.
I swear. True Story.
Donkey Dick
Posted on May 12, 2009This would, of course, be better if I had the photo of the donkey dick, but it seems to have disappeared out of my email. It would also be better if I had the Craig’s List ad that began this fun. Next time I’ll think ahead.
The Craig’s List ad was listed under Casual Encounters m4w. There was a photo of a HUGE penis. The photo really did not look photoshopped, but I’m not well-versed in photo manipulation. It certainly didn’t look professional–the background was a 70s-era desk and crappy carpeting. The guy’s cock was larger than his arm in the photo. The ad said the usual–he wants casual sex, will only reply to responses with photos, won’t 
pay for sex but will pay for meals, drinks, and drugs. Neither the ad or its headline mentioned anything about having a big cock, which in the CL CE world is fucking weird.
I believe I sent him this photo:
I asked about the photo in his ad because, really, it needed an explanation. How the fuck did he find pants to fit him, or did he always wear a kilt? Was he able to actually get the whole thing inside any orifices? I tried, I did.
Following is our email exchange. Any misspellings, or grammar or punctuation fuck-ups are his.
*********
SSF: I’m wondering why your ad doesn’t address the photo at all. Yes, I am a real woman. Yes, those are my tits, and hands, and hair.
DD: HEY! I do not know what ad you are talking about? My ad or your ad? It does not matter. It looks like we are both real. What town do you live in? My name is chris and I am looking for sex and mabey more fun in town. Dinking, eating, and more. here are some of my pic’s get back to me and let’s talk.
DD: Do you want to do something?
SSF: I’m talking about the photo in your ad and the same photo you’ve attached to your email. Care to address that?
DD: that is me. I posted a bunch of ad’s but all I get is spam. Do you wan to do something? I can prove it is me if we meet. Chris
SSF: Do you want to answer my question? If I’m going to do something then I’d like to know I’m doing it w/someone who is truthful.
DD: I am truthful! Send a pic of your face and let’s talk. If you want. I am getting your emails a little slow so that is why I did not answer your question.
[He sent me a photo of his face, but even I'm not that mean so I'll not post it. He has a unibrow, looks much older than his stated age of 26, and has a double chin.]
DD: why do I have to address the photo it says it all in the post. It is me! I even sent a face pic can you do that?
SSF: A picture of my face will not explain that picture of “your” dick.
DD: What is there to explan about my dick? I do not want to put my face on CL. I so not want to here back from a friend or someone that knows me. I also had to turn off my text and pic’s on cell because of some crazy person kept texting me costing me over $100 dollars so i blocked it for now.
SSF: Let me be frank w/you, Chris: I do not believe that that photo is an accurate representation of your penis. THAT is what I want you to address.
DD: Sorry! Drinking! I must have misspelled it.I said a face pic! I can see your face! I do not care to talk to you anymore if you do not believe me, so what! I have other emails to answer. You think I am going to send out fake pic’s and meet women! they would let me to leave if the pic did not fit me. Anyway you sound mean. I do not want to hand out with a woman that sounds and talks like that to me. I am 26 years old, short brown hair, 6’1″ tall, dd free, 194lbs, phsically fit, work out everyday. I am sorry you feel this way. I wish I had more pic’s to back it up but I do not right now. Mabey in the future I will show you and you will see the truth.
SSF: I have a Webcam if you have YIM. My id is the same as my FULL email address.
DD: I do not have web cam on this computer. I have to much financial info on this computer.I have to watch out on this computer with lot’s of spywear!
SSF: Are you really this dense? I understand that it is a photo of a dick. And if that is what yours looks like then you should know that it has some unusual attributes that need to be explained to a lady who may want to become intimate with it.
DD: You are the first to ask that question. You do your homework before you meet with guys. That is good! I used a pump to get it that big and pills.If you really want to know.
SSF: The word is “maybe,” not “mabey.” Fine, I’m mean for thinking that a photoshopped photo is not real. Or, if it is maybe you’d be able to explain how something of that size has affected your life. I imagine a lot of women are unable to accommodate it, if that is actually your penis.
DD: Using web cams and going to face book and myspace and twitter allow shit to come in and try to fuck with my stock accounts, bank accounts, financial accounts and lots more. did you not see the news about using gmail. Peopl can hack into it so easy and it has happend to me before. I got a fucking trojan horse in the computer and had all may info fucked with. I had to stop accounts on everything. Sorry if I miss spell words you are spissing me off and I am typing without looking at my emails.
SSF: Ever consider a Macintosh? Also, you’re already on Yahoo so you have Webcam capabilities. Either way, clearly we’re not meant to meet this way.
DD: stop emailing me
[He then sent me an email that contained an explicit photo I had sent him, and a complaint that it was not a face pic.]
DD: would you like to talk to me on phone call me at 707 299 **** [Redacted because I'm nice, dammit.]
SSF: I think we’ve established that I’m too mean for you. I’m good w/that.
DD: Good you bitch! Since you know nothing about hackers mabey your computer will be fucked over. Since you told me you go to stupied web sites that can be hacked into and destroy your computer and all the info in it. Someone could get all own info and see what I can do with it! I hope you have never used personal info on your computer! You will not even know it will be done until it is to late!
SSF: B/c I’ve decided I’d rather not call or meet you I’m a bitch? And you still don’t know how to spell maybe, so perhaps you should stop using the word in writing. What stupid Web sites did I tell you about? YIM? We’re both on Yahoo right now. So what you’re doing is threatening me? Really? You do know that is a felony, right?
DD: I never threatened yo read what was typed I never said I would do anything!I said something might happen to you.
**********
That night I did post his unredacted phone number and email address on Twitter. And a couple of nights later I told my harrowing tale on Episode 184 of The Jamhole podcast. The story continues, but you’ll have to listen to find out.
I swear. True story.
Suck and Run
Posted on May 11, 2009I was at a party chatting with the host when the host’s friend introduced himself to me. Let’s call him Sheldon. He was an attractive guy and very friendly. The host told me that he and Sheldon were best friends and that Sheldon was a great guy.
It being a party, I was pretty much drunk, and had probably smoked some pot too, so it took a while for me to realize that I had met Sheldon before. More than just met. I had told the host the story of the night Sheldon and I became acquainted earlier that evening. Only I hadn’t remembered Sheldon’s name (still don’t) so the host didn’t have a chance to waylay the awkwardness that inevitably ensued after the “introduction” at the party.
About a month before the party, I met Sheldon through Craig’s List. After the email to-and-fro, Sheldon and I decided to meet at the Elbow Room on a Friday night. I arrived first and amazingly was able to get seats at the bar. Several men offered to buy me drinks (which is not usual so it still stands out for me). I declined, thinking it would be rude to get a drink if I didn’t give conversation in return, and since my date was arriving any second, I wasn’t able to hold up my end of the bargain.
Sheldon showed up and we had a few drinks together. He was cute and we had a good conversation. Yay! He went outside to smoke, and because it was a Friday night in a busy bar, the seat he left gave people opportunity to sidle up to the bar to order drinks. A cute woman ordered for her group and while she was waiting for the drinks we chatted. Sheldon came back to the bar and I introduced him to her and her friends. She got her drinks and off they went.
Sheldon and I continued talking. I told him I thought the woman was hot and gushed a bit. That’s when things got weird. He said something along the lines of me not being into him enough and got up and left. Just left. Abandoned me. I was embarrassed, and confused. We had just met, was I supposed to want to speak to only him for the rest of my life? How into him did I need to be? What could I have done to show my interest?
I finished my drink and walked toward my house. I dipped into another bar for a drink. The more I thought about the asshole the more pissed–the American and British versions–I became. Who the fuck was he to make me feel like I had done something wrong? And why hadn’t I gotten that hot chick’s number?
So, with more liquid courage in me, I marched right back to the Elbow Room. I found the hot chick and got her number, dammit. Just in time, too–the bar’s lights went up at last call.
I turned to leave and there was Sheldon. Ug. Maybe he felt bad for being such a dick, because he offered me a ride home. By this time I was quite drunk and probably would not have made the walk home unscathed so I said yes. On the way to his car we kissed. I have no clue how that happened. I would guess I told him he was an asshole for his behavior earlier in the night–so maybe kissing him was my way of saying he could make up for it by putting out. Who the fuck knows how my mind works when I’m drunk? Certainly not I.
As soon as we arrived at my place we took Isis out. She is a very good girl and doesn’t need a leash so when she was doing her thing, I did mine. My thing is NOT the same as Isis’s. My thing that night was to get on my knees out on the corner after 2:00 am and suck Sheldon’s cock.
Apparently I wanted Sheldon to know that because he was an asshole to me he was missing out on great head. And the only way to prove I suck cock very well was to, well, suck his cock very well. Drunk girls really are stupid.
We went back to my apartment and went to the bedroom, where I continued to suck him off. Then, without warning–in my drunk mind at least–he got up and ran out of my apartment. No shit! Twice in one night this guy takes off on me. The latter time mid-blow job. At least there was no one around the second time so I wasn’t embarrassed.
The party’s host laughed, at me, not with me. Telling the story and seeing the guy had renewed my anger. What a fucking asshole. The party’s host wanted me to confirm that Sheldon had a big dick. I did not recall it being anything all that special in size. He was a big dick, but I didn’t notice that he had one.
Sheldon was at the party with a date. I debated with the host whether I should confront Sheldon and out him as an asshole in front of his date and the rest of the folks who were unwittingly attending our reunion. The host talked me down by making it clear that I would most definitely look like a twat and that Sheldon would look pretty smart for running away from a crazy bitch. Excellent point. I avoided Sheldon the rest of the night.
A few months later I saw Sheldon at another party with the same host. I was no longer angry, and had no desire to make a scene, so I asked him why the fuck he ran out in the midst of getting sucked off. Apparently, that night, because I was so drunk and so angry, I had retard strength. I used said strength to squeeze Sheldon’s balls too hard. He said he asked me repeatedly to ease up but I wasn’t listening, and his poor balls were being abused. He also explained that the death grip I had on his balls must have been the reason the size of his dick didn’t stand out in my mind–he wasn’t fully hard. Yeah, ok, whatever, dude. You’re still an asshole.
I still wanted to know one thing though: Except for the unintentional CBT, did I give a good blow job? He assured me that yes, absolutely, I suck cock VERY well. Thank you.
I swear. True story.
