Random Rim Jobs
I swear. True story.Anatomy of a Slut’s Purse
Posted on November 10, 2009
I am a slut. This is my purse.
- One of my vibrators. This is a LELO Elise. I like that it comes with it’s own little travel bag, but I wish the supposedly intuitive buttons didn’t require quite so much intuition to make the thing go.
- Martini change purse acting as my wallet.
- Many, many condoms of all sorts of varieties and sizes. I even have a female condom, which can be fun for a change of pace.
- Toothbrush. I never know when I’m going to be out all night and morning breath is just rude.
- Coach business card holder. It was a gift from the Ex for my law school graduation.
- Ticket stubs from the SF MoMA and the Academy of Sciences. I’m well-rounded and shit.
- Lube is fun.
- A lady always has access to tissues.
- Bus fare – it’s $2 to ride Muni now.
- Gum. I don’t like bad breath one bit – it fucks with kissing.
- iPod. I refuse to be stuck somewhere bored as shit so I always have this with me.
- Phone. Yes, kids, that is what phones used to look like before they started to do everything but make phone calls. I’m not what they call an early adopter.
Notice what I don’t have: Makeup and panties. Don’t wear much of either.
I swear. True story.
Frozen
Posted on November 09, 2009Slack tide. The tide is neither coming in or going out; it just is.
On a long plane trip I get to the point where I don’t want the trip to end; I want to stay on the plane forever. To never get there. To just be in limbo forever. Then there’s nothing to worry about. Everything just is.
Always expecting something good. It doesn’t have the chance to go bad because it’s not yet happened. Nothing but looking up. So positive. None of the worries of going to a new place and having to adjust. Just expectation.
The feeling goes between “Oh my god I have seven fucking hours to go?” to “Oh my, there are only seven hours until I’m actually there. Fuck.”
Or that moment just before leaving the bathroom. Gone to the bathroom. Washed hands. Hair and makeup checked. Everything is good. There’s only possibility on the other side of the door.
It’s a chance to breathe; an opportunity to be alone. A time when the only future to think of is the immediate future: What will happen when the plane lands? What will happen when I rejoin the party?
No one ever thinks of the mortgage payment when leaving a bathroom, right? No need to think of one’s sick parents at home when on a long plane trip – can’t do anything from thousands of feet in the sky.
If only time could give us the respite of slack tide more often ….
[Yes, I did get the idea from "Slack Tide," the latest episode of Dexter. No, I am not a serial killer.]
I swear. True story.
Dumped via Text
Posted on November 08, 2009I knew it was coming. I’m usually right about these things.
First, the number of face-to-face meetings diminished significantly. We used to see each other just because our paths happened to cross during the day. And we went on real dates out in public.
We kissed in the galleries of the second floor of the SF MoMA. That was probably way too romantic for something that was supposed to be casual. But I’m not completely convinced. We were into each other; it had been a while since we’d kissed; we were in the museum, in completely empty galleries; he reached up, cupped my face with both hands, and right there in front of a Jackson Pollack kissed me. Dammit, it was great.
The galleries were completely empty because most of the people who were at the museum on a Saturday morning (I think) were there to see Georgia O’Keeffe and Ansel Adams: Natural Affinities. We saw that exhibit, but not before walking through the galleries housing the museum’s permanent collection on rotation. I tried to show him my favorite painting, but it wasn’t up. But that didn’t matter because I was so giddy from that kiss.
Then we’d only see each other for sex. I’d spend the night because it was convenient, but then he couldn’t wait to get me out in the mornings, even on weekends. I got the hint and got the fuck out of there.
Then he told me that he really liked fucking me. We had great sex together. Great. His cock would hit me in just the right place when we were fucking missionary. It was hard to look into his eyes because he was so there.
He loved his ass licked. And I loved to get my face all wet from sucking on his ass. I loved that I could make him feel so good.
He really dug biting me. I dug it too. I’d come away from our time together with bite-sized bruises on the tops of my breasts and the fronts of my shoulders – where he could reach down to bite me when he was fucking me. He never broke the skin but he grabbed a jaw full of flesh in a way that made me swoon.
I gave him a paint stirrer to use on me. Paint stirrers make a great sound but don’t hurt that much when making contact with flesh. He spanked my ass with the stirrer. And he spanked my pussy. I especially liked that, but I still think slapping pussy looks stupid in porn.
He’d look so cute walking around in the mornings, naked. So little and cute. But with a nice big cock. It was nice and straight and smooth. I liked sucking it but never got it down my throat.
He’d fist me. Which would make me come so fucking hard. So hard that it scared me. He just accepted that that’s how I was when I came. And then I’d need to hide under the covers for a little while.
While we fucked he often told me that I looked good enjoying myself; that he liked that he could see I was enjoying myself. When he slapped me he said I looked both turned on and surprised. I knew he was going to slap me, but that he did it so hard, and that it felt so fucking good is what gave me a start.
After the visits dropped off, our only form of communication was text. We used to talk on the phone – I talked, he listened.
When he told me that the sex was really good, that our sex was really good, I knew that was a kiss-off of sorts. It sounded like he wanted to assure me that what he was about to do wasn’t because the sex was bad.
Then the canceled dates. All by text. Not feeling sexy, want to come watch tv as a consolation prize? No, I want to fuck.
Then he was sick. And I think I believe that he truly was sick. But being sick canceled another date, which gave him more time to think about things. When I contacted him a couple of times without response I knew that it was over, but I hoped he wouldn’t be the type to just ignore me.
He wasn’t. He responded that he was rethinking the casual sex thing. When we met he told me he’d never had casual sex before. I like being a guy’s first. At least he’ll remember me.
He’s young – 26. Twenty-six-year-olds keep breaking my heart.
He didn’t do anything wrong. But it would have been nice to see him again. And to have his cock hit that spot again. And to have him bite me and fist me and spank me and slap me.
I swear. True story.
3/29/90: A Diary Entry
Posted on November 07, 2009Erica suddenly is very non-sexual so that means she doesn’t even like to kiss me. she says I’m very good in bed but she just doesn’t want to; she says nothing turns her on. Last night we had sex and while she was fucking me she asked me wouldn’t I rather it be Beth or Sandy.
3/23/90: A Diary Entry
Posted on November 07, 2009But I was wrong. I guess this weekend Erica’s supposed to stay at Juree’s. So if she has sex with her she won’t be able to with me cause I don’t want some disease.
Is it Any Wonder I Want to Hit People?
Posted on November 06, 2009I’m trying to get my name out “there” by writing about sex mostly, but relationships also, so I’m the SF Sex and Relationships Examiner and I give advice on other sites, the names of which I’ll not disclose at this time. It’s frustrating giving advice, but not because I have to hope for the best for the people; for the most part I hope they take my advice but it’s no skin off my nose if they don’t. What’s frustrating is reading the questions. People simply do not know how to distill information into the important key elements only. This frustrated me when I did plaintiffs’ work as an attorney as well. To me “too much information” is not too personal, it’s too stupid and irrelevant.
Chris, here, was not the most verbose of advice-seekers, nor did he have the most spelling, grammar, and punctuation problems, but he did respond to my advice in an interesting way. When I read Chris’s prose I wonder about schooling and think Idiocracy is closer than we think.
***
Chris Asked:
“I was dating this girl for about a year and 2 months ago she broke up with me, she’s 20 and I’m 28, she is my best friend’s little sister. At first i was reluctant to speak to her but as time went on we talked and eventually met, and eventually fell in love with each other. she would get jealous of the fact that i was best friends with her older sister. she also didn’t like the fact that i had a lot of girls as friends, and i mean strictly friends, we were on and off 3 times this past summer till the 3rd time we were together for 3 months until recent now she doesn’t want a serious relationship. says she wants to find her self, and think about her career and what now, which i can respect that. well she drops the “can we be friends” card on me and i told her i refuse that offer cuz she had me at #1 and now is kicking me off the pedestal down into the cest pool of the rest of the men that want her, so i told her i refuse to accept that demotion. so now shes recently got me blocked on that facebook and myspace accounts and says she doesnt want to see my life get filled up with STD infested girls in my life, which i think is a bunch of crap actually. i happen to know that it was cuz she didnt want me to see her friends lists on either, cuz she knows theres a specific guy that did her wrong that i don’t like and i know she’s talking to him again, (rapist) but a day prior to us breaking up, i recently discovered that she was talkin to another guy and gave her his number and they texted a lot and such so the day of the break up i asked to see her cell, only to discover the messages were deleted and his contact info as well.well she lied and said she wasn’t talking to anyone , but later on she admitted it, and hid it from me cuz she said i would assume. so we split up and she still to this day get jealous if i’m talking to other girls, and such, she’s usually the one that talks to me first as in text messages, or email. i’m envoking the no contact rule since day one but nothing seems to budge. she said i was her first love and the best guy in the world but why is she doing all this? is it the fear of a commitment? what are the chances of us reuniting again?”
- Chris (28, Buffalo, NY)
***
Dear Chris,
Really, you’re 28 years old and acting like a child?
You CANNOT refuse to allow someone to break up with you. Continuing to seek her out via the Internet or telephone just reeks of desperation – and stalking. No, I am not kidding.
She is young and wants to play the field. You are young and should be doing the same.
The reason she wants to move on doesn’t matter. The fact is she does. And you should too.
You are 28 years old. That means you respect the people you claim to love, not force them into your definition of a relationship with you.
The chances of you reuniting again are ZERO. If you’re smart. She has tried to cut off all contact with you, you do the same.
STAY AWAY and GROW UP.
Suzanne White Montiel
SF Sex and Relationships Examiner
http://www.examiner.com/x-14163-SF-Sex-and-Relationships-Examiner
***
I’ll admit this may have been harsh, but I really think it’s appropriate. How creepy is it for some 28-year-old man-child to chase around a 20-year-old girl? And how creepy is it that at 28 he still bothers to measure the duration of his relationships in three-month segments? And of course there’s the spelling, grammar, and general inability to effectively communicate. By the way, what is up with “(rapist)”?! I thought that would be the end of it.
Until yesterday I’ve never gotten a response to my advice. Yesterday I received an email from one of the other men to whom I gave advice. He thanked me and asked further advice, which I was happy to give. But Chris, here, wasn’t so pleased with what I told him.
***
to Suzanne White Montiel
first off, u are expert? how dare you talk to me the way u did like that, i came on here seeking answers to questions i had. i came on here in confidence for a polite response, you don’t know the type of person i am, and to call me selfish is just uncalled for, i can UNDERSTAND that she is young and wants to play the field, but once again you dont know me, nor do u know her. and FYI i am playing the field as well, and its not me that continues to seek her out, shes the one that wants to play the damn friends card with me, and the way she talks to people is VIA THE INTERNET!!! shes not a sociable person what so ever, all she does is text msg people and myspace and facebook them, so DO NOT ! call me a stalker and i have been giving her the satisfaction of living her life and playing the field, the N CONTACT rule is so that she doesnt have to worry about me, and shit!. she needs to do this with out me in her life and i do respect the one i love, dont u tell me that i dont’ im sorry but ur answer is an EPIC FAIL. i refuse to believe that ur a relationship expert. are u racist against older men or something? cuz the way u attacked me, was really harsh and obscene. your opinion doesnt matter to me good day
***
Oh, Chris, my stupid friend. Maybe the cold there in Buffalo has done something detrimental to your brain. I think maybe you’re a tad defensive, as I did not use the word selfish at all. Also, Chris, you needn’t be afraid of apostrophes – they’re your friends – but I advise you cut back on the exclamation points since using them mid-sentence diminishes their impact. As for knowing the type of person you are – yes, I do: You have trouble seeing things from a different point of view, you are immature, you know a few “big” words but don’t know how to use them properly, you are often frustrated because people don’t understand you but that is because you don’t know how to communicate, you think that because you have a job that you are a “man.” By the way, Chris, “whatsoever” is one word, and you really should look up the definition of obscene if you’re going to toss it about.
And Chris, even if I thought maybe you were smart but just a shitty writer this sealed it for me: “are u racist against older men or something?” Racism has to do with race, not age. If I were prejudiced against “older men” I’d be ageist. But, Chris, at 28 you are hardly an older anything. Let’s say you mean “men who date women who are younger than them.” I do not think eight years is a huge age gap in general, but the eight years between 20 and 28 can be significant.
My advice to Chris if I wasn’t trying to be nice:
Dear Chris,
You are stupid. The 20-year-old girl is stupid. But you’re stupider because you are almost 30 years old and don’t seem to understand that the both of you are acting like children. Her excuse is that she is a child. What’s yours?
I had to read your question over and over again, which hurt my brain because it is so poorly written. I don’t know what the fuck you are trying to say for the most part.
I’m not sure if you made her continue to be your girlfriend by some strong-arm tactics, but that is not acceptable civilized behavior. If she doesn’t want to be your girlfriend you can’t make her be so.
You seem to not want to be her friend but I think (I’m not sure because of your shitty writing.) she’s made it clear that the only way she’ll be in your life is to be your friend. You seem to think friendship is equivalent to being in a cesspool (there is no such thing as a “cest pool”) so I imagine you don’t want to be friends. If you are not friends then you needn’t have an opinion about the kinds of friends she does keep, even if they are rapists. Is that what that little “(rapist)” meant, that she is friendly with a rapist? If so, how do you know?
Your relationship has no chance, I hope. PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE don’t reproduce! Ever.
Suzanne White Montiel
SF Sex and Relationships Examiner
http://www.examiner.com/x-14163-SF-Sex-and-Relationships-Examiner
Perplexed
Posted on November 05, 2009I don’t know how I feel about this t-shirt. I loved my ass fucked as much as the next person who loves his ass fucked, but I certainly wouldn’t say my ass is on par with my vagina.
I’m not saying my ass is below par, or even above par, when compared to my pussy, but they are vastly different. Each serves its own purpose.
And what about my mouth? I think of my mouth as more of a vagina than my ass.
I also do not like a guy’s ass called a man pussy or a boy pussy. Uh, no, it’s an asshole.
I swear. True story.
