Random Rim Jobs

Today I got my new computer from a very cool, very generous guy.  Once I got it home and went Online I accessed Random Rim Jobs where the following comment to “Pussy!” was submitted:

I’ve been reading this blog for a good 4 months now (i think).. I’ve seen the face pictures you’ve posted, ive seen your tits, and ive seen the hot Twitter avatar you have. You know, the one that says “swallows” and happens to show off a pair of nice tits and a pretty thin waist.

Imagine my surprise when watching real sex on HBO, you looked old and not so hot… kind of goofy….and definitely about 45 pounds heavier than you appeared in the pictures previously shared.

so anyways.. .there IS a point to this comment. I’m being an asshole but not a *complete* asshole.

Do the guys you meet on Craigslist get a picture thats a little more…. truthful/revealing/less flattering than the ones you’ve shared here on the blog prior to actually meeting you?

If not I imagine some of them would be a little disappointed.

Charming, eh?  If I had read this last week, just after I spilled wine on my computer, I probably would have killed myself.  Really.

Now, I just wonder why some assface has so much time on his hands and what he thinks insulting me is going to accomplish.

And since my only response directly to him was to thank him for the material – I’d few ideas on what to post today – I’ve decided to respond to him in a more public forum.

Dear Charles (cman@mailinator.com):

Thank you for reading Random Rim Jobs.  I’m glad you’ve enjoyed what you’ve read and seen so far.  I hope you keep reading, as I do post something new every damn day.

Thank you so much for appreciating my ample breasts and proportionally small waist.  Both can probably be attributed to my mother’s side of the family, though my father doesn’t have any sisters so I don’t know how XX chromosomes would have expressed themselves given the chance.

I’m also glad you watched the episode of “Real Sex” in which I was in a segment.  Best of all, thank you for sharing with me your opinion of me.  There’s nothing a person likes more than to know some asshole she has no interest in meeting thinks she looks old, not so hot, goofy, and overweight.  I’m not quite sure what your intent was other than to make me feel bad.  What a small person you must be.

Assuming what you say is true – that I looked old, not so hot, kind of goofy, and heavier than I appeared in previously disclosed photos – so the fuck what?  I’m not going to go into all the bullshit about the camera adding ten pounds – since by your math I’d still be 35 pounds heavier than I should (?) be – or that the segment was filmed in high definition which clearly doesn’t mix well with either freckles or dark under eye circles, but I do wonder what you would look like in the same situation.

When you look down, or in the mirror, or into the face of someone who is looking at you, do you always like everything you see?  Do you wish this were better, or maybe that?  Do you want more of some things (yeah, I’m talking about cock length and girth here) and less of others (that gut isn’t so sexy, dear)?  Guess what, everyone feels like that.  We are our own worst critics; what you’ve felt the need to share with me is just a portion of the shit I think about myself all the time.

By the way, do you have any photos of yourself for the world to see?  Have you ever been on television?  I would appreciate the opportunity to assess you.  I can’t imagine you’d hold up all that well to scrutiny.

I do tend to post flattering photos of myself, which I think is understandable.  Why would I want to post shitty pictures of me?  I, however, have not posted the photos of myself I find most flattering because those are quite a few years old and do not accurately represent what I now look like.  And/or I make clear that they are particularly good photos of me, as in the second part of the story about Las Vegas.

For example, this is a fucking great photo of me.  I was 26.  I had just returned from my first trip to Thailand (“Smooth as Silk“) where it is hot and the food is good, but served in small portions.  I didn’t realize at the time how thin – for me, as I’ve never been truly thin – I was.  I would never post this photo as an accurate representation of me now.  Because it’s not.

Because I have disappointed guys upon first meeting them. Let me direct you to this which makes that ever so clear.  I’ve also pleasantly surprised men and women.  I know this because they’ve told me, and I’ve no reason to disbelieve them since they’ve told me so both before and after we’ve fucked.

The photo in “Bras” was taken on or after September 25, 2009.  The photo of my tits in the “swallows” t-shirt was taken some time in early 2009 I believe.  I have neither gained nor lost 45 pounds since early June 2009, when the “Real Sex” segment was filmed.

Some people like me, some don’t.  Many who have met me in person do like me, and find me sexy, and hot, and goofy in a good way, and looking probably my age – 36, the fact of which I’ve never hidden.  By the way, I’ll be 37 on May 30, 2010.  I was born in 1973.  I do not try to hide the fact that I have birthdays every fucking year, which you would know if you’d read “Happy Birthday.”

Yesterday I received a text from the woman the encounter of which I wrote about in “Pussy!,” the story to which you’ve commented.  She wants us to be fuck buddies.  I told her that made me very happy.  Her text response to me:

Not sure why you are so surprised.  You’re sexy as hell, very funny – easy to talk to, and great in bed … why wouldn’t I want to repeat?

That’s an opinion that matters, that of a person who has actually met me.

You know how to contact me should you want to prove me wrong in my assumption that you are not a perfect physical specimen.  Your poor writing has already made clear that you are not a perfect intellectual one.

Sincerely,

Suzanne

P.S.:  Cman?  Really?  Lame.

I was in a liquor store tonight. I walked up to the counter with my $6 wine as another customer was checking out. After he finished his business he did not leave the store though. Instead, he hung out for a bit. He looked at me in that way that men look at women when they’re interested. But then he got a single cigarette from the
store clerk so I figured that was why he waited, and his nicotine addiction was the reason for hungry look on his face.

But then when I left the store there he was. He had waited for me. He said hi. He asked me my name. I declined to give it. He told me I was looking fine.

Of course that’s flattering, but this guy was most definitely not my type, even if my type is pretty much all men. I was walking home and he was behind me so I opted to go into a different door of my building just in case.

Does this happen to everyone? I think it does. Not getting ogled by creepy guys in liqor stores, but knowing when someone is interested. I’m not saying it happens to me often, because it certainly does not. But that I KNOW is definitely something that happens. Lately it’s creepy liquor store guys or VERY old guys who find me charming.

Does everyone who isn’t completely clueless know when someone is interested in him/her (per)?

I swear. True story.

[Hey, kids, let me know your answer to my question, would you? Comment, fuckers.  Also,I get my new my computer tomorrow. I'm so fucking excited. It's like Christmas, only way better.]

I have ‘em, I love ‘em. Sex toys. Sexy toys. Toys for playing with my pussy. Toys for playing with my ass. Toys for playing with someone else’s pussy, ass, or cock. Also, I write sex toy reviews for Carnal Nation [Again,can't do hyperlinks in this current computer situation.] so go look there, dammit.

I’ve not sucked cock in so long. I long for long cock. I long to suck long cock. I want to suck cock.

Which makes me think of Charles. Charles Gatewood. [Again, can't post links in my current computer situation, but you can find Mr. Gatewood's work here: http://www.charlesgatewood.com/.]

It makes me think of him because he LOVES his cock sucked. It’s so nice when someone is honest about what s/he wants. How do I know that? Uh, because his cock has been in my mouth, and more than once.

He’s interesting and fun and and cool and his cock is always hard. Hopefully, he likes my cooking (and other skills) to get together some more. We’re geographically and otherwise desirable to each other so I’m hoping.

I swear. True story.

[New computer will be in my possession on Friday, December 18, 2009. I am EXTREMELY grateful to the person who has acquired said computer for me. I am also grateful that the person is reliable and completely trustworthy - I've no doubt that per (if you've ever read Woman on the Edge of Time you'll get that pronoun; Woman on the Edge of Time is a book, the title of which should be italicized, but I am unable to do so giving my current computer situation) will come through. What a nice feeling - to be able to actually rely on folks.

I swear. (That's a) True story.]

He’s already called me this morning. His other line beeped but he didn’t want to get it ’cause he knew it’d be for his mother and he’d have to go. So he didn’t answer it. But then there was another call and he was right, it was for his mom.So he had to go, but he’ll call back.

Someone came knockin’ at my door at around 1am or so this morning and thought I was hoping it’d be Henry proclaiming his undying love for me, I was happy that it was DJ. Yea. She got kicked out of Sherri’s and Traci’s ’cause they are no longer lovers but born-again Christians and just couldn’t have a lesbian in their home. And that was after she had to sit though Bible study. They were probably trying to save her before it’s too late. We’re going on something like 12 years she’s been like this and she doesn’t want to go back. She has lost a lot of weight and is doing well with her physical therapy. She’s going to try to get a passport so she can see the world. Well, heck, she doesn’t have to work so she might as well do something she’s wanted to do all her life.

I want Henry to come over here and be so happy that he kisses me. I just know he wants to – I hope I’m not totally fooling myself. I’ll drop subtle hints – “I figured you out, you’re not shy, you’re just very subtle.” And then I’ll say something about how I would have much rather have been alone with him Friday night. That’s very sweet that he drug, dragged his friends over here. They probably weren’t having all that much fun when they went to go get the alcohol and probably said something to that effect but Henry told them he was driving so they could just chill out ’cause he wanted to see me. I’m very happy. I also realize that I did all this stuff wrong when he was trying to drop one of his subtle hints. Oh well.

My neighbors are making an extraordinary amount of noise this fine morning. I only ask for some peace and quiet. Do I get any? No, of course not. I think I should wake Laura up.

I spilled red wine on my computer. I was not drunk. As a matter of fact, it would have been better if I had been drunk because that would have meant I had less wine in my glass.

As it was I’d had only a sip of wine when the remainder of the glass spilled onto my keyboard. Then the computer stopped working and I’ve not been able to make it work since. I called my IT guy, the person who [Btw, the keyboard of this loaner computer is bullshit and doesn't take too well to the space bar being utilized.] put the hard drive into my computer and made it work all great just a few months ago. He told me that red wine is a mother board destroyer and that there was nothing he could do.

Dammit!

So, dear readers, I ask that you donate. Donate just a little. Better yet, donate a lot. Those who donate a lot may be surprised with lovely presents. I need a new computer, or at least one into which I can make newish with the help of my very generous friends.

I have a donate button. It’s over there to the right. I also have a post office box if you want to send me a physical computer or checks, which I’ll gladly accept: PO Box 40985, San Francisco, CA 94140-0985.

Yeah, I know it’s crass, but I really do need money and/or a computer. I’m used to using a Macintosh (never owned anything else), but am willing to make accommodations as it’s rude to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Donate generously and you just may see some dirty pictures of me.

I swear. True story.

After over three weeks I finally got laid last night. I was afraid I had become a new Shazam. Well, not Shazam at all, but boring and lame Suzanne who doesn’t get laid, and who doesn’t even masturbate. Thankfully, that’s not true.

I’ve still got it, dammit! I was just in a short little slump.

Last night was fucking great. Confirmed: I LOVE eating pussy. And licking ass. Yummy.

I am shy around women now like I was shy around boys when I was a teenager. (Many of the “A Diary Entry” series will give a flavor of how lame I was around boys then.) Now I turn into a dummy around women to whom I’m attracted. I always find it hard to believe that a woman would actually be attracted to me.

So I was ever-so-pleasantly surprised when a woman contacted me and told me she had a crush on me. Me. Wow. And she wanted to meet me. It was very hot that she pursued me. She told me she was coming into town just to see me. She told me where and when.

We met for dinner. Definitely cute. We had a nice dinner. She treated me. That’s one of the touchy issues with same-sex dating: Who the fuck pays? With me lately that’s easy; the other person ALWAYS pays. But when I have money I gladly pay and I follow the rule that the person who asks pays, no matter the gender of the participants.

We met for dinner, which was very nice. Then we walked back to her hotel, stopping for wine on the way. We also held hands at the end of the walk. So cute.

However, once in her room things stopped being cute and began to be dirty. I simply could not keep my mouth off her ass and/or pussy. I wasn’t even undressed and she had already come at least once. So much fun.

We rolled around a lot. Hotel sex is good for that. We both brought sex toys. I brought a fun little glass butt plug and couple of small vibrators I’m reviewing for Carnal Nation. [While I'm using this loaner computer I can't create links w/in the text or I'd've done so for Carnal Nation. Carnal Nation is a very cool Website, the tagline/theme/signature of which is "Personal, Political, Perverted." Perfect. carnalnation.com]

She brought a Hitachi Magic Wand [Really, everyone should know what this is, but had I the capability I probably would have provided a link here just in case. Everyone has to learn about something for the first time and I might as well provide the means to do so.] and restraints. At one point she had the wrist restraints on and I made her keep her hands bound above her head and be quiet. I love telling a good girl what to do.

Her ass was a delight to lick and lick and lick. I loved licking her ass whilst finger fucking her pussy. Then I slipped that fun little glass butt plug [the name of which I do not know, but it'll be on sale soon through Good Vibrations] into her tasty butt and worked on her pussy with my mouth.

Her pussy lips were so much fun to suck. The more I sucked them the thicker and jucier they became. Her pussy tasted so good. And that ass.

When I’m having that much fun I just am. It’s a delight to not even think, just do. And it feels so good. I’m in a zone.

She was simply lovely when she came.

We parted ways in the morning. She was sweet and brought me orange juice for breakfast and offered to pay for a cab. (I declined, as I was going to take the 12 home.)

When I got home I saw that the Ex neglected to take the dog out and she had to relieve herself inside. I was angry, and yelled at him. He an was particularly shitty, which I later learned was due to an allnighter that had only ended two hours prior. We’ve had Isis for over two years, during which time she never before had done that in the house. He’s an irresponsible ass.

Despite having to clean up that mess, I certainly was not in a bad mood. I’d been laid by a hot, sexy chick; I was good.

I masturbated. My pussy was wonderfully sore. When my pussy hurts I come faster and harder. She used my cunt with her whole hand. It was fucking hot.

I hope she had at least a portion of the fun I had because I want to fuck that pussy again. I’d really like to fuck her hard with a strap-on.

I swear. True story.

Even though it’s not very late, I’m quite tired. Pot does that to you.

Maurie broke up with Beth. His excuse was that he needs time to think about stuff or something like that. She still loves him of course but right now she is very angry, which she has every right to be.

Henry finally did call but had to go ’cause Tom (I think that’s his name – one of the ones who was here last night.) wanted him to take him to get drugs. He said he would call in about an hour but that was at least three hours ago. Maybe they had to go downtown to get the stuff and got shot or something. What am I gonna do if anything’s happened to him? I, of course, wouldn’t be invited to the anything ’cause I’m not a friend of the family’s. Well, nothing has happened to him, ’cause nothing has hap – oops I was about to repeat myself. What’s with my writing, huh? I keep fucking up too. Beth is asleep even though she promised that she would stay awake.

I think I should buy a pipe ’cause smoking out of an aluminum can is ridiculous.

I wish Henry would come over alone and Beth would fall asleep and “he would be so happy . . . he’d kiss me.” That’s the ending to any Henry scenario. There are also Henryisms. I think about that guy more than is healthy for the average human adult. It would be a big step if Henry actually spent the night – well into our relationship, of course. Every time I hear a car,I get a tight feeling in my stomach and wait for the knock on the door. It’s quite scary. But the knock never comes so I can just relax. When I least expect it, that’s when something will happen. Like last night. He’s so cute. He apologized for having so many people with him and surprising me. I said it was no big deal but I now realize what I should have said. That I wanted it to be just him. I’ll have to say that the next time we talk, if I remember. I would much rather it be his guitar, him, and me. He plays quite nicely. It makes me feel neat inside. Then he would be so happy that I like his playing that he’d kiss me. I shouldn’t be so shy. Am I making it obvious that I like him? Is that bad? I really think he must like me too, or at least want to have sex with me from the way he talks. What if he just uses me and dumps me? What if he’s a real jerk and that’s what he meant by being a lot worse than what he looks like. That jerk putting on that sweet face just to lure innocent young girls into his grasp to destroy them. He would rather go deaf than have his genitals numbed. And he’s even a musician. He must like sex a lot. Good, that’s the way I like them, primed and ready.