Random Rim Jobs
I swear. True story.Is it (that) Hard?
Posted on December 19, 2011This week the book MWF Seeking BFF comes out. I don’t notice when most books come out so this book, about a woman who moves to Chicago because of her partner’s job (sound familiar?) and then spends a year looking for a best friend, must’ve struck a chord. I’m still not sure if I’m going to bother to read it.
I’ve been in Chicago a year and I don’t have a BFF here. I have a good friend whom I see about once a month when she comes into the big city from the ‘burbs. I’ve met a lot of people that I thought maybe could be my friend but so far nothing’s worked out.
I know that friendly relationships are like romantic ones in that you just have to keep cycling through them until eventually you find someone with whom you click, but it’s time consuming, nerve wracking, and heartbreaking. At least with romantic (read, sexual) relationships I can resort to sex if we don’t have much to say to each other.
I tried strictly platonic Craig’s List listings with no success. Of course I could go back and beat the dead horse some more but I just don’t have the energy to wade through oceans of stupidity.
Through Meetup.com I signed up for a group that seemed like it could be fun. The host said our activities were to truly bond, not just to meet acquaintances. To that end, she planned drunken brunches, Brazilian waxes, sex shops, and tattoo and piercing events for our meetups. Fun! I used to have groups of girlfriends with whom I’d go to spas and such, and I love me a drunken brunch, so I was in. Bonus was that the Meetup organizer was also new to Chicago so we could commiserate with each other over winter woes (she was from Texas).
The first time I met ladies from the group was a brunch of the drunken variety. We all started out sober, but that didn’t last long in a place where the mimosas were bottomless. The food was decent, too, especially considering it, too, was bottomless. Over buffet food and lots of mimosas we talked, but the true sharing didn’t happen until we started playing “Never Have I Ever.” Turned out one of the ladies at the table had never given a blow job and another lady had never kissed a girl. The one who hadn’t had cock in her mouth had been kissing only girls until very recently and had yet to get a taste for cock, and the one who had never kissed a girl hadn’t had the drunken coed experience despite having very recently completed Ohio State.
After our adult bonding the whole group went to a sex shop where quite a few of us bought some toys. No one was freaked out by the store, and after our game of “Never Have I Ever” it would have been odd if anyone was. They didn’t seem phased at all when I bought a strap-on harness. I ran for the bus saying a fond goodbye to my new friends.
Well, “friends.” I didn’t have anyone’s phone number; any contact was through the Meetup.com page. I was excited that I had had a fun day with a group of ladies. I wasn’t concerned that everyone else who had attended the brunch seemed to already know each other; there has to be a first time meeting for everyone, right? The group had proved itself to be open minded, and alcohol-, queer-, and swear-friendly so I was in.
The next time we got together was at a tattoo and piercing studio. I had been planning a tattoo for a long time but had never gotten around to it in San Francisco so I knew exactly what I wanted. I showed up slightly early and set about getting the tattoo. I was going to get it whether the other ladies showed up, but a little social support would have been nice. When I didn’t see them I figured most everyone had canceled and the host canceled the Meetup altogether since the last time I checked out the site. But I was going to get a tattoo no matter what.
After the artist drew what he thought I wanted and I approved it, he set about getting his station ready. Just as he called me back, the Meetup host showed up. She said that she and the other ladies had met earlier at a bar in order to build up courage. I don’t know if the host thought I was some sort of teetotaler – and she shouldn’t have considering our initial meeting over many mimosas – but I told her that drinking before a tattoo or piercing is not a good idea since alcohol can thin the blood, which can be troublesome, especially for a tattoo.
As I began getting tattooed, the host went to retrieve the other ladies from the bar. Everyone else showed up just as my tattoo was getting bandaged so none of them saw it fresh. A couple of the ladies got tattoos and a couple other got piercings.
Afterwards we went to a pretty dead sports bar across the street. We chatted, and some of the conversation turned bawdy, but before too long someone wanted to get “supplies” for her new piercing and rather than stay by myself at a bar that was blasting whatever game was on, I opted to go home.
By this time the host and I had exchanged numbers. We texted each other some asking after our new body adornments, but that was it.
I RSVPd that I would go to several more of the group’s meeting, and I wanted to go, but then finances were such that it was silly for me to go out to dinner when there was food in the house, that it was silly for me to get a Brazilian wax when there was a beard trimmer in the house, that it was silly for me to go out drinking when there was booze in the house, so I RSVPd that I couldn’t go. The next time I was actually able to see them I would explain the situation.
I got a text when the ladies were out to Greek food (a thing here in Chicago) that they wished I had made it. How sweet! I was looking forward to the next drunken brunch at another place with bottomless mimosas. If nothing else, the Meetup group would allow me to survey bottomless mimosa brunches in Chicago.
When the brunch was still a couple of weeks off I got an official, do-no-respond-to-this-message message from Meetup.com letting me know the Meetup group was no more. Wha? The group’s site on Meetup.com said that the group was no longer active, but still noted the upcoming events. I was very curious so I texted the host. She didn’t respond. Well, I was sure I’d get a full explanation at the brunch.
And then the brunch was canceled. I never heard directly from the Meetup’s host so I have no idea why the group was dissolved. The insecure child in me thinks the group was dissolved just so the rest of the ladies could get together without the possibility of me showing up, but that’s silly, right? When we got together we had fun, I thought. Sure, I wasn’t into going out dancing at clubs, but I wouldn’t have been into doing that with anyone, no matter what their skin color.
Did I mention that I was the only white girl in the group? And I only bring this up because I brought it up to a couple of people who’ve lived in Chicago longer than I, and they suggested that that might be the reason the group was dissolved. They said Chicago is a very segregated city. Maybe I just live in a white privilege bubble, but I don’t see why if that is so that it has to go on being so. The things I felt I didn’t have in common with any of the ladies from the group – cock sucking experience, lady kissing experience – had absolutely nothing to do with race as far as I could tell. Or I’m just naive.
I’ve met a few ladies through OkCupid, but I guess that forum makes it necessary that there’s some sort of sexual spark if the “friendship” is to develop. And I would love to again have a friend with whom I like hanging and also fucking, but just the hanging part would absolutely be enough for me right now. One lady said I was too intense. One lady seemed as enthused to meet me as I was to meet her but then things fizzled out, I think because I’m not kinky enough, whatever that means. One lady I’m still not sure about.
I don’t have the fortitude to do a lady date a week for a year in order to find a friend like the woman who wrote MWF Seeking BFF, but I suppose I should keep trying.
My Fantasy Date with Shazam
Posted on February 06, 2011[This was submitted to me a long time ago. I didn't post it sooner because, well, I find it repulsive. But because I need material and because this is a good example of what I don't like, I thought I'd post it. Everything in italics is mine.]
At first, I’m a little shy – not the casual cool I tend to be – but her tweets and blog have gotten me hard and gotten me off so many times, I’m nervous. I also feel as though I need to impress her. I don’t want to be another run-of-the-mill blog-spot about how I was lame in bed when I try to get a hold of her for another encounter.
We go for drinks and I start to mellow out, relaxing and staring at her gorgeous ass is starting to give me a semi. I can’t take it anymore, I need to have her. I masturbated to the idea of the things I’d do to her last night. I was extremely excited but still maintained a nervous edge. Butterflies. Just be cool.
“Why don’t we get out of here and you can sit on my face?” I say, in my care-free tone, persuasive body movement. She’s a good little slut and agrees, we go back to my place.
Just as we enter the front door, we start making out. I’m not big on kissing, but people tell me I’m good at it.
I pull down her pants and her thong and spin her around, grab her hips and on my knees I start to lick her asshole, parting her ass cheeks with my hands and enjoying every single lick.
I lay down and pull her on top of me, her ass is smothering my face. It’s delicious, my cock begins growing in my pants and she reaches down and undoes them, moving my boxers aside to get to my raging cock – it’s small, 3.5 inches. I hope she doesn’t mind. [She does.]
She grabs and strokes it with her hand, but I reach under her and move her hand aside and hold her still. Enjoying her gorgeous ass.
After a few minutes I lift her up just enough so I can speak. “Now, you can suck it bitch!” She leans in and starts sucking [Uh, no she wouldn't.], I slide my tongue from her asshole to her delicious little pussy. She’s so moist and has an amazing aroma, just how I’d imagined it. I kiss her inner thigh, licking it and then suck on her pussy lips. She moans gently and finally I attack her clit with my tongue. Her mouth is so warm around my cock and she sucks it so well, I could cum [sic] instantly.
I lift her off of me and push her down on the floor, she gets up into the doggy style position and looks back and smiles. I twirl my index finger around her moist little asshole and then insert it. I insert a second finger and then a third, her asshole is soft and stretched [which he needn't have bothered to do considering the size of the penis]. She’s moaning gently and still smiling.
I bend down and shove my dick in her ass, fast with no remorse. She loves it, I know she does. She blogs about being an anal whore. The depths of her asshole are surprisingly tight. I fuck her, pulling her hair back and slamming my cock into her gorgeous ass. She’s screaming, she loves my cock [She would not love that cock.] – good for her. She’s behaving nicely. I could fuck her ass all day. I grab her hips and lift her up a little, slamming my cock into her harder and harder. She’s bucking.
Her pussy starts squirting onto my hard wood floor. [This is clearly a guy who doesn't understand pussies and squirting.] I pull my cock out of her insides [What a gross way to describe that.] and move to the couch. I bend over the couch and she instinctively gets on her knees and starts eating my asshole. She’s very well behaved. I reach back and hold her head in my ass. It’s never been eaten so well. I could come from this alone. She spits on her hand and reaches under me, grabbing my cock and stroking it in motion with her soft wet tongue. I don’t want to cum [sic]. I want it to last forever.
I stand up, she keeps eating my ass. Her tongue slides up and down my asshole. I move away and go to the closest and pull out a strapon, she smiles with glee. It’s 12 inches long and 3 inches wide. She reaches for it, but I hold onto it and shove it inside her wet cunt. She moans out but she takes the entire thing, I pound her with it while I rub her gorgeous tits.
Her pussy sprays again, all over the sofa this time. I’m going to need to hire a maid to clean up her puddles.
I give her the strap on and she fastens it to her waste [sic]. I lean down and suck on it, taking as much as I can until I gag. Getting it as wet as possible. I reach behind her while I suck it and finger her ass. Finally, I give her ass a swift smack and bend over the sofa. She pushes it in me and I could almost scream, I grab the couch. I’ve never been fucked before, but I want to impress her.
After a minute or two, it feels great. I start moaning, she tells me to stroke my cock and be a good bitch.
She keeps pounding, relentlessly. I’m going to cum [sic], I can’t hold it anymore.
I moan “I’m cumming, I’m cumming,” and she stops, ripping the brutal dildo [Oh, those brutal dildos!] out my ass and she bends over. I push it [Which "it," the dildo or his cock?] in her ass and shoot my load deep inside of her. [Oh, his cock, what there is of it.] She looks back smiling again and after my cum [sic] is drained into her ass she tells me to lay down. I do what I’m told. She squats over me. Her ass hovers over my face. She rests her hands on my stomach and asks if I’m ready. “Keep your mouth open,” she says.
I open my mouth and her asshole starts to pucker out. My cum [sic] comes dripping out of her ass and directly onto my tongue. I swallow it. It tastes amazing. She lowers her ass and I instinctively clean her asshole with my tongue. She’s still pushing and starts to piss on my chest. Uh, my best shirt but it was worth it.
She stands up and I stand up. She puts her pants on, fastens her shirt, leaving her panties on my floor for me to keep. She looks at me and gives me a big hug and a kiss on the cheek. She smiles and walks away without saying anything, she walks out the front door. I hope she calls me back for a return encounter.
[Uh, gross. This would most definitely not be a good date for me.]
August 12, 1991: A Diary Entry
Posted on November 22, 201010:38 A.M.
Last night was the show at the Coconut Teazer. We (Karen, Laura, and I) got there really early but Henry was outside so I didn’t see him until just before they went on. I use people I’m with as a crutch. If I was alone, I would’ve had to go look for him. Oh well. The band playing when we got there, Wax, was pretty good. The next band, Glue, was rotten and the lead singer was a transvestite fag from hell. Ethyl Meatplow sounded a lot like Nitzer Ebb and the lead singer chick was pretty cute. There was a hot girl in the bathroom when Karen and I went. I was later to find out that she’s a friend of Killer’s. She had a cute face, cool hair, and a hot little bod. then for the Duchess, I went and stood up front so I could see better while Laura and Karen stayed where we were back a little further. So through the whole set I stayed up and watched Henry’s cute little face and agile little hands. The dancer chick with the gross body was by Henry and kept getting real close and rubbing up against him. She had a cute little, well, not little but smallish and poufy, butt and alright legs – no cellulite that I could see – but a yucky waist and belly – all chubby and not well-defined. So afterwords I went to where we were sitting but they weren’t there. I finally found them and they told me they had left. I was shocked and then Laura looked at me with a sneer and said , “You don’t like them, do you?” What the fuck? Yes, I do like them. Yes, I do like the songs and music and the scene and the people, what the fuck is it to her? She said she’d go see Ghost Story ’cause I’ve told her that they’re a lot different. I want friends who’ll go places with me. I want someone who’ll shock and surprise me and I don’t think it’s just me and Beth and Laura are fine. All those people who go to their shows can’t be wrong along with me, can they? So now I have to find a ride to Friday’s show. Oh, but Nicole said she’d go to that with me then spend the night and then go to her party Saturday night. Cool, but I work Saturday 12:30 – 5:30 and she probably has to go to set up for the soriee. then I have to work at Nautilus Sunday morning. I’m going to try to try to get out of that one by getting someone to work for me – I just have to remember and I have to call Nicole. August 11 food:
- 2 bagels
- yogurt-covered pretzels
- 2 nectarines
- lowfat milk shake-type thing
- chocolate and coffee candies
- wine cooler
- sex on the beach
At least I got some fruit in there. K.C. wants me to come into work today but I have stuff to do here and it’s my only whole day ff in a long time. Of course, I have Wednesday off but not the whole day ’cause of Nautilus. Laundry, called the L.A. Times, post office. Why can’t I have more money? I have to get a fogger.
8:44 p.m.
Henry says he’s gonna get one of the roadies to pull me up on stage, take my clothes off and make me lay down with my legs spread during whatever the song is that goes, “open up your big, fat pussy …”. He wouldn’t. But He said just because I said he wouldn’t, he’s going to. I would have to be so fucking drunk even though I know I could dance and play up there pretty well. But he said Barb would put the strap-on between my legs. I don’t know where that’s been but then I do too. The thought of being forced up there and my clothes forcibly taken off in front of an audience gets me off. All those people hot for me and the way I can move my body and to know that Henry’s watching and getting off really gets me going. I would be performing for him so that later he woldn’t be able to stop himself form fucking me – if I wanted to or not.
I have more sexual thoughts about Henry even though Sean has proven to be the more sexual of the two. But something about the pursuit. And watching Henry makes me hot – the way he’s so smooth and cool about everything so that when he does do or (especially) say something sexual it’s such a change that it must just be for me.
10:44 P.M.
They always start the same. You just walk in, don’t bother knocking. And see me lying on my stomach on the bed. It’s hot and I can’t sleep but before I get a chance to even say anything, you have roughly pulled my panties off. Then you run your hands up my inner thighs and spread my legs wide. You rub my buttocks and finally your fingers find that wet hole that is filled with the product of my excitement. Then your hard cock is rubbing between my ass cheeks while you whisper in my ear what a whore I am for leaving the door unlocked. You pull away to grab my hips and prop me on my knees, keeping them far apart. And you fill me. I can feel nothing but your hot, hard dick deep inside me as you’re thrusting again and again. Your right hand is making laps around my clit and your whole hand is wet form me. Then I’m coming and I can feel my whole body once again. The sweat on my face, the hot moisture on my thighs and buttocks and you . It comes out hot. I can feel it heat my insides up even more. You pull out and leave – I’ve never seen your face.
Party, Part 2
Posted on March 30, 2010
[Continued from "Party, Part 1."]
The hippie chick put on the strap-on. She walked around the party and went up to all the men demanding that they suck it. It was hilarious. Most of them gave it a try … a sad, sad try. Finally I had to show them how it was done. I sucked her cock for a few minutes. According to the members of the audience, I did an excellent-looking job.
One of the ladies at the party was very drawn to the strap-on harness. She asked the hippie chick if she could borrow it. The hippie chick acquiesced and handed it over. The rest of us went to the bedroom and left the woman to use the strap-on with her boyfriend.
Back in the bedroom the host suggested that when the strap-on was free that the hippie chick should fuck me with it. That sounded like a lot of fun. In the mean time the hippie couple, the host, and I fooled around on the bed.
The hippie guy and I began to explore each other. He discovered my clit; he spent a significant amount of time fingering it very slowly and very steadily. So long that the couple who had been using the strap-on returned from their ministrations, and sat, and watched as the hippie guy fingered my clit. When I finally came – from clitoral stimulation alone – it was loud, and wonderful. The observers congratulated the hippie guy for eliciting such a response from me.
The party’s host continued to insist that the hippie chick fuck me with the strap-on. However, we were too distracted doing other things to get right down to it. I requested the hippie guy fuck my ass. He declined, but in the nicest way. He opted, instead, to fuck his girlfriend, which I completely understood. I’d already had a lot of fun.
The host kept bringing up the hippie chick fucking me with the strap-on. His repeated insistence became downright creepy.
…
When I woke up everyone had gone. I apologized to the host for falling asleep, as the party was not meant to be of the slumber variety. The host was very nice, and even went so far as to make me quite a nice brunch that included freshly squeezed orange juice and some fluffy scrambled eggs. The toast was his homemade bread.
Over brunch he told me he’d give me a ride home on the back of his motorcycle. As I’d taken two buses there, I was grateful for the offer, which accepted.
After brunch we retired to the living room. The host was obviously making his moves on me. I, however, was still tired, and was a little jarred by the transition from a whole group to one-on-one for relations. I really just wanted to go home and spend the day decompressing.
The host told me about a date he had recently had. The second date with a certain woman had her to his house to eat a dinner he made. He told me that they had not had sex, but that she should have known that going to his house to eat food he prepared meant that sex was expected.
At the time I sat there on the couch I was a tad out of it due to little sleep and thrill of having just had my first group sex situation. It wasn’t until later that I realized he was telling me that since I was at his house, and he had made me a meal, that I “owed” him sex.
It should have dawned on me much earlier, because as soon as I made it clear I didn’t want to have sex with him that day he told me he no longer had time to give me a ride home. I walked to the bus stop. He rode his motorcycle past me as I waited for a bus that would take me toward home.
I swear. True story.
Party, Part 1
Posted on March 24, 2010
This is my kind of party. I’ve been to Kinky Salon and Club Kiss, sure, but I’ve certainly never seen anything like this at those parties. However, I attended a party in a private residence that was a lot of fun.
The host of the party pre-interviewed every attendee. He accepted only male/female couples or women from their 20s to 40 years of age. At the interviews he told the potential guests that most of the people were straight but many of the women were “situationally bisexual” at his parties. He prided himself on putting together a good party with people who had chemistry.
I arrived a little late, as the host lived out in the Richmond. I was introduced to the other guests whom had already arrived. There were a few couples and the host, and then me. One couple was about my age. The guy was hot and came across as cocky. I would find out why months later at another party – he had a huge cock. His woman didn’t say much.
Another couple was hippie-like. They lived on a farm in Santa Rosa, in Sonoma County. I had lived in Santa Rosa when I was a kid. The woman was tiny and had hairy armpits. She was like a little natural fairy. She was the first one to bring out sex toys. Her guy had a beard and long hair. She was in her early 20s, he was in his mid-30s. We talked about their age difference and how it meant nothing because they were working. They seemed like a very happy couple.
One couple was older, well into their 40s. They told us for her birthday they had engaged the services of a pro at a brothel in Nevada. They said it was absolutely worth the thousands of dollars they spent and it was one of the best sexual experiences they had had. She was very thin and quite sickly. He was bigger and British, or Scottish, or something like that. They were the first to go into the bedroom and begin to fuck.
There was a couple in their early 20s. She was more experienced in these sorts of events than he. He had a sweet, young face. The kind of sweet and young boy face that makes me swoon. She was the one who got the action started in the living room by going up to only the women and rubbing up on them while saying, in a sexy, breathy voice, “I just wanna make you feel good.” I wanted her to make me feel really good.
We began to make out. But we weren’t ready for an audience just yet, and the living room was very well lit. She led me into the back bedroom. We left the door open and we kept the lights off. We went over to the bed. She continued to rub me all over. We continued to kiss. It was fucking glorious. Only I wished she had wanted me to touch her, but she wanted to devote all of her energy to making me feel good. I liked it.
She whispered in my ear. She asked me if it would be ok for her boyfriend to go down on me while she she played with my breasts. Yeah, I think that’d be ok. Very ok. She went to get her boyfriend. I rubbed my pussy over my clothes. He came in. He looked very shy. I love me a shy boy. It makes me feel dirty and pervy. He and I kissed. He was so hesitant – but he was doing it. He was kissing me tentatively.
He talked to his girlfriend. She told me that there was a change of plan, that he was going to continue to kiss me, and play with my tits, and she was going to go down on me. That was fine with me. Whatever these two wanted to do was fine with me.
By this time some of the other people joined us in the bedroom. Our host turned on a string of red lights and some music. I think it was Gotan Project. The boy continued to be very needy. He brought out something very maternal in me. Kind of creepy, but being maternal turns me on sometimes.
Eventually the young couple left. The hippies and I, along with the host, were on the bed. We talked for a while. The hippie chick pulled out her bag of toys. She had a double dildo, and a strap-on harness with an average-sized cock in it. I was not well-versed in harnesses. I had worn one only once, for Israel, at that point in my life. I asked her if she wore it. I asked her what she did when she wore it.
She said she liked to fuck with it, and that she fucked her boyfriend’s ass with it. Yes! That was so fucking hot.
[To be continued ….]
I swear. True story.
Prague, Israel (Part 4)
Posted on March 08, 2010[Continued from "Prague, Israel (Part 3)."]
After the incident with the neighbor I felt very uncomfortable in and around the apartment building; I did not want to run into the guy who was clearly “interested” in me in a very intimate way. Israel told me he’d talk to the neighbor.
A few days later when I came home from work Israel told me he had talked to the neighbor. He told me he had smoked a joint with the neighbor. Uh, my boyfriend thought it was ok to smoke a joint this guy who said he wanted to “get with me”? Let me remind my dear readers that I was 19. I had certain ideas about how a boyfriend should be. And I still have the idea that a guy who claims to be my boyfriend should have understood that if I’m upset at someone the best thing to do is not to smoke a joint with that someone, but rather to defend my honor.
Well, over that joint Israel got to the bottom of why the neighbor held out his wallet to me and said he’d pay to get with me. Apparently, my evasiveness regarding where I worked at night, by saying I worked “down the street,” had sounded to the neighbor like, “I work on the street.” He thought I was a streetwalker. And my boyfriend thought that it was funny.
That was probably the turning point in our relationship.
He traveled to visit an ex-girlfriend and despite repeated assurances that he would not have sex with her, he did. I cheated on him with a regular Q’s customer. When we were alone we drank a lot. I still couldn’t buy alcohol, but Israel could. He bought me Irish cream – of various brands – which I drank over ice.
But we didn’t spend much time alone together since we were both working a lot and I went to school as well. On Superbowl Sunday both Israel and I worked waiting shifts. As I’ve mentioned, I was not a good waitress. It stressed me out to no end. On Superbowl Sunday Q’s was packed with people watching the game, drinking, and eating.
For the Superbowl there were food specials. Only exactly what the food specials were was not communicated to us, the waitstaff. The management and the kitchen staff had different ideas of the specials. Those of us who were trying to earn tips didn’t know what the fuck to tell the customers. After being told one thing by my boss and another by the cook, I was pissed. My boss caught me just outside the kitchen.
I was mad, he was my boss. There were words, of the loud and disrespectful nature. He fired me. On Superbowl Sunday. I was actually relieved. I was doing a shitty job waiting and probably wouldn’t have been tipped all that well anyway. I handed my open tickets over to another waiter and walked home.
For the next few days I went to school and worried about my next job. Unbeknown to me, Israel was working on his boss – my former boss. He asked him to hire me back – because he was tired of having me around our apartment all the time. Nice. I went back to work, but no longer took any waiting shifts.
Israel announced one day that he had been to the local sex shop. Back then the local sex shop was nothing like my local sex shop, Good Vibrations. Back then the sex shops were dirty and sleazy and of the sort many people would only enter on a lark on drunk. He showed me his purchases, some skin magazines of the extremely large-breasted variety, and a strap-on harness with a dildo.
I wasn’t even sure what the harness contraption was. He told me he wanted me to put it on and to fuck his ass. I was a naive flower at the time. I’m pretty sure I wasn’t so naive as to think that him wanting something in his ass made him gay, however, I’m definitely didn’t fully comprehend dominance and submission/top and bottom dynamics. I had already participated in some BDSM activities up to that point (though not with Israel), but I didn’t get much other than I liked being teased a lot.
Well, I tried. I put the harness on. I had a cock. For about two minutes. I tried, I really did. I felt fucking ridiculous. And silly. I laughed more than anything and I didn’t even get close to fucking him. Which may have been for the best as I don’t recall him having brought home lube from the porn store.
The strap-on purchase was a last-ditch effort to make our relationship work. Another gesture that I considered downright ridiculous and silly was him asking me to marry him. I was all of twenty. He wasn’t much older. No matter what, no matter how young and naive I was, I knew that a relationship of six months in which we’d both cheated on each other was most definitely not a solid foundation for a marriage.
He seemed to think differently because he married the girlfriend after me. I never met her, but he and I continued to be friendly so I learned that she was older than him. I figured that by age alone she was more ready to be married. Many years later I know that there is a shit ton more to being married than “maturity.”
I swear. True story.
Pussy!
Posted on December 13, 2009After 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 juicier 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 was particularly shitty, which I later learned was due to an all nighter 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.
