Random Rim Jobs
I swear. True story.Warning: This IS Me
Posted on August 10, 2009I hate being a dumb, insecure girl. I hate assuming there’s something wrong with me. I hate reading into things and thinking the worst. I hate that people aren’t just honest. I hate phonies. I hate being truthful when it’s not appreciated.
I love talking. I love sex. I love to worship the cock of an appreciative man. I love someone who knows what s/he wants.
I hate possessiveness. I hate hypocrisy.
I love my dog and I love my cat.
I love getting just the right amount of drunk.
I hate not knowing what the fuck. I hate people who take advantage of my generosity without returning it in kind. I hate being disappointed by people. I hate thinking I’m a disappointment to people.
I love being a night person. I love my hair.
I hate feeling like such a loser. I hate sympathy. I hate that I can’t remember the last time I was fucked well. I hate that I can’t just trust people.
I hate that I care. I hate that I’m simple. I hate that it’s not that easy.
I love my apartment. I love living in San Francisco. I love not having a car. I love walking.
I hate drama queens. I hate freaking people out.
2 Feb 90: A Note Found Amongst my Diary Entries
Posted on August 09, 2009For the “almost blatent one” –from the one who cannot spell …
I was trying to get a suggestion across to you last night, I have a feeling I wasn’t too successful.
I just wanted you to take a look at how your life will be, depending on the decision you make. Look at the future with her, then look at the future without her.
I feel that if you can try to visualize the difference, you will have more conviction in your decision.
ENOUGH … that’s what I was trying to tell ya last night. That’s it. That’s all. “Nothing big deal, guys.” You can do anything you want to. But you’ve got to make a choice as to what organ you are going to think with.
BLAH
-the master at really confusing people, Fritz
Ricardo–fat, Desperate
Posted on August 08, 2009Ricardo, fat, stinky and stupid.
Why the fuck do you morons think it’s ok to wear that much fucking cologne? It’s so damn gross. Really.
Tonight’s guy showed up. He was fat. I might’ve fucked him anyway, but he was also wearing so much cologne that I could smell it from a block away. I’m not exaggerating.
He arrived at my place. Isis needed to go to the bathroom so I asked him to escort me out–didn’t want to leave him alone in my place. Just when we got out of my building I told him that it wasn’t going to work. His cologne was overpowering me.
I’m too fucking old to waste my time on fat smelly assholes. So he asked if he could get his bottle of tequila back. The idiot had left it in my place. I assured him that I’d return it. Isis went to the bathroom; the fat ass waited by my building’s front door.
Isis and I went in; we left him outside. I poured myself a generous portion of his tequila, the brand of which I’ve no clue, and then handed him his bottle and slammed the front door of the building.
He texted me, “I see you poured some for yourself,” then, “That’s fucked up,” and finally, “Fucking cunt.” Ahh, sexy.
Oh, and he’s bald and fat and the smell of his stinky cologne is still in my nose.
I’m pretty sure Monday’s date is off. Shucks.
Oh, and he couldn’t find my apartment once he was in my building. I live on the 2nd floor but he wandered around on the 4th floor for a while, stinking up the joint. So he’s not only fat and stinky, but also stupid. Yuck.
I swear. True story.
Random Rim Jobs
Posted on August 08, 2009Courtesy of Ryan’s Porn
I want to lick pussy so badly. I think he wanted to see me fucking, but she, not so much. Which is fine! I need. I want. I need to FUCK.
I so want to fuck a guy. I so want a cock to go down my throat and a fist in my pussy. FUCK ME. FUCK me. I want pussy.
DD: Partner in Attempted Crime
Posted on August 06, 2009I’ve met a number of men, and women, thanks to Craig’s List. The ones I fuck are great, but the one I don’t fuck, DD, is special.
I responded to a CL ad in the Strictly Platonic m4w section. I love having guy friends, and was in desperate need, since most of the ones I’d had were on the Ex’s “side” when we broke up. A couple of friends tried to be neutral but understandably felt trapped between the two of us. Ultimately, since I was the cheater, and therefore the bad guy, I just let them go. I was making myself feel shitty enough, I didn’t also need “friends” judging me because I cheated on the nicest guy ever. And the Ex is a nice guy–will do anything for a friend. A wife, not so much.
It was also during this time that I was trying to find friends I wouldn’t want to fuck. Better yet, I could completely avoid the possibility of fucking a friend if he had already eliminated my entire gender as possible sex partners. I responded to an ad headlined, “Fag Looking for a Hag.”
We met in Dolores Park and immediately got along. We had both recently ended major relationships and were in recovery. We both liked fucking guys, a lot. He loved Isis (she always goes with me to Dolores Park, whether we’re there to meet a new person or otherwise). We both talk, a lot, and fast. At the time our mothers lived in the same area of California that we both found absolutely repulsive.
And it hasn’t been the same since. We mostly hang out at my house. He brings baguette, cheese, and wine; I make dinner. It seems unfair, but I’m a kick-ass cook and I sometimes make multi-course meals.
Over wine and food we talk about anything and everything, which is usually sex-related. On one of those nights the wine was flowing and we got to talking about what would be fun given our state of inebriation, our randiness factor, and the ease of making things happen in San Francisco with Craig’s List.
We placed an ad on Craig’s List under Casual Encounters mw4m. We made it very clear that we were a gay guy and a straight (for these purposes) woman who wanted a guy to come over and dance for us. Yes, dance. We wanted a guy to do a little striptease for us, and indicated in the ad that things may go from there so he needed to be open to sexual relations with both of us.
Our drunken minds had thoughts of DD watching me suck cock, as a kind of lesson. DD is skilled at the oral arts, of course, but he told me he gives head because guys like it, not because he does. I assured him that I could show him how enjoyable sucking cock can be.
We weeded through a few applicants and finally settled on a guy who told us he was coming to the Mission from the Marina. (More on my feelings on the Marina in “International Day, and Night.”) That alone should have caused us to reject him, but it was late and we were only getting drunker and hornier.
The guy showed up and after introductions DD and I ordered him to dance. Maybe we’re intimidating, because the guy who had had the nerve to come over in the middle of the night was suddenly shy. Yes, we really did want him to dance; the CL ad wasn’t lying. We asked him to dance. We ordered him to dance. He would not dance.
We told him to leave. If he wasn’t going to dance for us he was of no use; he was just taking up space in my apartment. I walked him to the door. THEN he suddenly got a personality. He started up with the “baby, baby” talk when he thought we were out of DD’s earshot. There is nowhere in my apartment that is out of earshot of anywhere in my apartment, but I suppose this guy didn’t know that. Our guest wanted to dip into the downstairs bathroom for a quick blow job. Uh, no.
We probably kissed a few times because I was trying to show him what he was missing by not dancing for us, but I wasn’t going to give him a “freebie” blow job; he had to earn it. After several minutes of him begging and me making it clear that he needed to earn his keep or get the fuck out, he left.
DD and I were disappointed, of course. We wanted some action.
Fast forward several months. DD and I were again hanging out at my place with lots of wine flowing. This time our CL ad asked “just” for a guy who was willing to engage in sexual relations with both of us to come over.
The guy who showed up was a cute, skinny, tattooed pastry chef. Oh, yes. DD and I gave each other the “I so want to fuck him hard” faces; we knew what was up. Because I’m a food nerd I asked him about his work, in detail. He was very sweet and shy.
It was pretty late. DD and I had been drinking for a few hours, our pastry chef had told us he’d been up since very early in the AM on account of his job. The three of us kind of zoned out. I was sitting between the two men and could see that one or both of them was about to fall asleep. Hmm. Not too sexy.
Eventually our pastry chef took his leave; he had to work in the morning. After he left DD and I discussed how hot he was and how much we wanted to jump his bones. DD told me he could tell by the lump in the pastry chef’s jeans that he had a big cock. I’m of the opinion that there are growers and there are showers and there are guys with huge balls, so the bulge in the pants is not a definitive indication. Nonetheless, DD assured me that the pastry chef had a big cock. We’re both size queens.
But that didn’t matter, because the pastry chef had left. I text messaged him that we were both a bit disappointed that we didn’t have a chance to have some sexy times. Much to my surprise, within the next week or so the pastry chef text messaged me letting me know that he was randy and wanted to come over.
DD was right – the pastry chef’s cock was big. And fun to suck. And suck. He came over, he came, and then he left. I didn’t hear from him again. Which was fine. I got the feeling that he was trying to figure out his orientation. I hope I helped in some way. Of course I told DD about everything.
Fast forward a few months. DD tells me that the pastry chef has been text messaging him and wants to get together with him. Fun. I encouraged DD to go for it, because the pastry chef’s cock is nice and should be appreciated.
DD tells me one of the best things EVER: the pastry chef wants to know of DD’s blow jobs are as good as mine. He he. Yay! As far as I know DD and the pastry chef still haven’t gotten together, but I do want to know the details if they do.
I swear. True story.
2/1/90: A Diary Entry
Posted on August 05, 2009The truth, Erica, what you really feel, not something you make yourself say because it’s convenient and easy. Do you even know what the truth is anymore? What do you really feel? Who can’t you really stop thinking about? Why do you string me along? Do you think you can pull it of for a long time? ‘Cause you won’t. I won’t put up with your shit. I believe you because you’ve told me to trust you. Why the fuck do I have to be the stupid one? I’m just a thing for you to play with, as I have always been. I have a feeling that the “I just decided 16 minutes ago to be just friends,” was not a joke. Nobody even jokes about something unless they really mean it, and especially you. Like about the wild frenzy in Sacramento. Well, you can fuck off! That’s official. It took a lot of shit for me to be able to do it but I’m too good for you. I’m nice to you. I would never dream of cheating on you. You did warn me that you couldn’t promise that you wouldn’t cheat o me, and I thought I could handle it, but with anyone but her. You lover her. You need her. You want her. You lust her. I’m just some little substitute who’s convenient. You’ve been so right all those times you told me I could get a helluva lot better than you. I deserve more. And I want more. Why me? I guess I was closest and most willing. You can give me a call when you’ve gotten over her. Maybe I’ll want you but likely I will have recovered from my mental breakdown. What pisses me off the most is that this probably isn’t even hurting you. I want to hurt you as much as you’re hurting me. I’ve been honest from the start. I even told you that at the beginning you were just a game. But have you been honest with me? I don’t think so. It’s not me you want to talk to at night, it’s not me you think about all the time. IT’S ALL HER. You always get mat at me when I question you about Juree but I think it’s only because you don’t really want to tell me that i”m right. I want you to love me. I want you to care about me. But I don’t think you can do that and I don’t think you want to do that because of Juree. She’s your “real” relationship and I’m your side thing, just like it was with Amy. She liked her lot, I refuse. Why can’t you love me like I want you to? The only thing I want is to be loved and adored. IN return I would would probably worship you and the ground you walk on. But you can’t be forced into something you don’t want and have no desire to do. I don’t want to look stupid but I think it’s too late. Why did I think you’d be any different with me? Why did you fool me by telling me you loved me? You don’t love me. You want me to be with you for company. You need someone, anyone to be with. So you picked me. You haven’t fallen in love with me, I can only wish you have. I’m someone who’ll be with you so you think you love me. I can only wish someone would think about me so much that they write my name in their arm. Did you only give me the chain to make me shut up? Because it worked. I would rather have you been honest with me and told me you weren’t ready for commitment with me than do something just to make me be quiet. I knew when I saw it that you weren’t ready but I tried to make myself believe that you really did love me. I wish you did. But you don’t and I can’t make you. That is the only thing I don’t have control of in this game. And the only thing I can’t buy off. I’m not sure if I love you. I feel good when I’m with you and your warmth makes me happy. But is that love? I don’t know what love is and I don’t know if I’ve ever experienced it. I only know that I want to take care of you and make you forget you’ve ever had any problems and I want to hold you. But I’m not the one you need for that, I wish to God I were. I want to be your friend but that’s goign to be so hard for me to see you every day and not be able to do anything. I don’t mean sex either. I just mean be w/you. I would be angry if I always had to see you happy and pursuing others while the whole time I want to be with you. Well, I am strong and I can do it. But I wonder if you know what you do to people or if you just do it blindly. Only you know and I don’t think you’re gonna tell. I told you I loved you because that’s what I thought would win you over to me. But she’ll always be better until you yourself get over her. I want you to be mind and you weren’t fair by leading me to believe I had you. But you only want me for companionship? Is that what it is? Or what? What is sex to you? You say you don’t really care about it but you seem to use it to your advantage a lot. But then I guess I do that too. I’m learning now what kind of power I have but unfortunately not much over you. I don’t like not having control or being able to make people do what i want. I usually can, you see. Oh well. I wish I could have you but why bother fighting a losing battle? What’s the use? I could stay in and continue as I have been but I know I’m worth more than that. I deserve to have someone love and adore me because I am a good person and I have nver done anything to anyone to be worthy of any less. I feel as if I’m deserting you but you can only be deserted if you want what is leaving . You don’t want me and never have. You only wanted to be with someone, anyone in the short time you weren’t with Juree. The nights you spent with Amy and then me. For a while I was satisfied with being an object but now I can see that I need to stop being so dependent on others that I sacrifice myself in devoting to them. I was angry but now I’m numb. I don’t care because you won’t care because you only care about her. I truly am sorry that she won’t have you back. Maybe if you continue to be a part of her life, if you show her there’s no way for her to get away from you and your love for her, maybe then she’ll see how much with all your life you love her and will always be waiting for her. Maybe if you show her. She loves you, I know and hate to admit it. No one can turn their feelings off that quickly. Now you’ll talk to me about the tactics you can use to get her back and I’ll tell you what to do because I know she’s all you want and I’ll want to be a good friend. But it will hurt and I’ll want to scream. If there was someone else for me you wouldn’t even care, would you? I wish you would. Don’t think that I have all the answers already. I’m hoping to God that you’ll tell me it’s all untrue and that you are in love with me but I’d rather not set myself up for disappointment. I think I do love you ’cause why else would it hurt so bad and feel so strongly? I wish I didn’t feel Everything would be so much easier.
Phone Sexdiots (Part 1 b/c there are definitely more to come)
Posted on August 04, 2009Today’s been a nice day. The weather’s been gorgeous so I took Isis to Dolores Park where there were lots of beautiful people, of course. Then to Pet Food Express for treats for Isis and litter for Joaquin (but only enough of each that I could carry the several blocks home; Isis wasn’t wearing her pack so she couldn’t help out). Then to Lucca Ravioli for some wine and snacky food.
I was then visited by a friend with whom I have threesomes but otherwise do not have sex. He and I get together at least once a week to discuss our respective sex lives, and other things too, of course (we’re civilized after all). He’s been a very supportive friend.
Now I’m horny, as per usual. I came once today, with the Magic Wand on my clit and the LELO Elise (THANK YOU, @MR_LELO) in my pussy. Fun.
I want to use the fact that I’m horny to my advantage, so I can actually come for my phone sex clients. Only they seem to be fucking morons. They pop into the chat room, tell me what they want, and then pop out. Uh, I’m not going to give you what you want until to call me, silly goose (geese).
Yesterday, Monday, I had a guy in the chat room who was essentially interviewing “girls” to see if they would qualify for when he actually wants to call in Friday or Saturday. I know I don’t have the same attitude toward casual sex as many people, but I also know that phone sex is not actually fucking in any way whatsoever so there really is no reason to treat it like it’s that big of a deal.
Nonetheless, these guys seem to want us “girls” to be able to read their minds so we’re exactly what they want us to be, or to get them off in the chat room so they don’t have to actually pay. This experience is probably going to help me tap my dominant nature much more easily …
I swear. True story.
