Busy

Sorry to all of you. I've received a few emails over the last few weeks asking me where I've gone. The truth? To work. I've been promoted and am now working 50-60 hours a week. That, and I'm seeing four people. I rarely get on my computer these days. 

I will try my best to write some wonderful new stories soon. Thanks for being patient. 

Polyamory

The boyfriend and I broke up just three weeks after trying monogamy.

Wow, that really was a disaster. What a mistake. An attempt at monogamy not only ended my romantic and sexual relationship with Liam, but also our friendship. That's a shame because he was my best friend in this city.

It's okay, there are more people out here who I call my friends. Tough, though.

It's now been almost two months since we broke up and I'm feeling less scared but more careful since my reality check.

The monogamy was obviously a big failure. I'm definitely some kind of poly at heart. I've been living my life believing I'm polysexual, but I think now I want to try out polyamory.


I'm pretty enamored by a sweet fellow named Peterson (a pre-school teacher! how cute!). I feel I've made it pretty clear I don't want monogamy, but I haven't made it clear that I don't want a boyfriend yet. I'm hoping he doesn't pop the relationship question. I don't want to commit to an emotionally exclusive relationship, because I don't want to cut myself off from possibilities with other people. I'm a giving person and I feel I have the capacity to love many people.

We'll see how this pans out.

Q&A - Age ranges

<Redacted> asks: "I'm curious about your position regarding older vs. younger partners and your experience. Please make that your next blog post!"

I love the quote by Jimi Hendrix, "Age is not a number; it's a state of mind."

I think that's true. There is a year a person is born, and there is a number which represents the number of years a person has lived, but I do not think that's what age means. Age is the state of mind a person takes on, and is a way to generally categorize ourselves. We tend to socialize and bond best with people of our own age group, because we are in similar life stages. For instance, somebody who is 40 years old will most likely have had far more life experiences than me and a totally different take on life philosophies. I've never experienced what it means to be married, have children, witness my parents die, raise a family, buy a home, etc. These are all major life steps that I so far have not taken, and therefore there is a level that I will not be able to relate with people who have taken those steps.

From a purely sexual standpoint, I think age is completely irrelevant. If you're attracted to somebody, and they're attracted to you, and everybody is consenting and everything is legal, then go for it! The oldest person I have been with is 34. That's a 14 year age gap. He's lived over 1/3 as long a life as I have. He's seen way more and is in a totally different place than I have. The sex is unbelievably fantastic, but I could not be in a relationship with him. There is just too much that separates us socio-emotionally.

On that note, I really can't stand people my own age. I hear many other 20-year-olds saying that to try to make themselves look cool and mature, but it's legitimately true. With the exception of my best friends who is 19 (she's absolutely amazing and defies expectations in maturity), I can't stand people my own age. Most 20-year-olds think they know everything about the world and think they're bulletproof. They're spiteful, jealous, selfish, narcissistic... I mean, the list goes on. Social interactions with other 20-year-olds is like a nightmare with me. They're still children.

So the idea of a regular 30-year-old dating a regular 20-year-old seems fucked up to me because most 20-year-olds are intolerable, and that 30-year-old would really have to be compromising on a number of levels to stoop down to the mindset of a 20-year-old.

However, and this may be completely pretentious of me to say, I've left that life stage that most 20-year-olds are in. I've been in a 3 year relationship with a person I lived with, I've dealt with many life traumas, I've experienced a reckless and abusive childhood, and have overall been through a lot more than most people. I grew up fast. That's just how it is. Therefore, most of my friends are in their late twenties or early thirties. Holden, who I mentioned in my last blog post, is 29. I know for a while his friends made fun of him for spending time with somebody so young, but as they've gotten to know me, they understand why.

There is huge social stigma around age differences when you're dealing with anybody under 35 (once you hit that mark, you can date upwards of 50 or 60 and not many people would bat an eyelash). But I say, if you feel you have a true connection with somebody of a totally different age, don't let social standards drive your actions. Let your own intuition and good sense help you to make the decisions that are right for you and your potential partner(s).

To conclude:

I once had a couch surfer who listed his age as 108 and said that he will never reveal the true number to anybody. He had a youthful spirit and many lines on his face. I really have no idea how old he is. I'd say as young as 25 or as old as 40. In the end, it didn't matter. He was a joy to be around!

Update


<Redacted> asks: "Is there an age that's too old for you?"

Well, for the most part, I am not attracted to men who are reaching their upper thirties. Biologically we're designed to be attracted to people who look our own age, and that instinct probably kicks in for me when I'm interacting with men right around age 35. However, last night I had an amazing dream that I was fucking a 37-year-old who I've wanted since we met. He's absolutely beautiful, but he certainly looks not a day older than 30.

Point is, if you're sexy, your age doesn't matter. You just stop being quite as sexually attractive in my eyes starting around mid-thirties. As I get older, that ceiling will obviously raise.

More Sex Soon!

My latest posts have been less sexual in nature. This is for a lot of reasons -- I haven't been having that much sex lately (it's been eight days!!!), I've been more pensive in my writing lately, and the last few times I did have sex, I was either too high or drunk to be able to accurately tell a great story the next day.

But right now, I'm about to leave to go fuck like a raging bull, and soon there will be plenty of explicit stories to come!

Chicken? Prude? Or Satisfied?

I moved into a beautiful house that I absolutely love. I’ve got fantastic roommates, and I love the building. I decided, now that I’m feeling quite settled here, that it’s time for me to host couch surfers again. So far I’ve hosted four in this city.

My most recent was a very attractive man from Switzerland. I’ll call him Luca. He stayed with me for five nights, and there was intense sexual tension between us. I was very attracted to him. We changed in front of each other, were physically comfortable with touching each other, and spent most of our time together. 

I told my roommate I had a bit of a crush on him. Right before bedtime on the second night, she suggestively said, “Have fun tonight.”

We went into my room, laid down in our beds, and stayed up talking for a while. Then sleepiness overcame us and we called it a night.

Each night went like this. One night we both got pretty drunk together, and I even kissed him on the cheek. He got very smiley. But then I didn’t kiss him on the lips. Why not?

I think I was too scared. Why did I chicken out? I normally am so brave when it comes to stuff like this. But what do I like more -- hosting couch surfers, or having sex with couch surfers? Which would I rather lose forever? Well, I absolutely love having couch surfers, but I would rather continue hosting them than having sex with them. If being rejected by Luca after making a move on him meant getting a bad review on CS, then I would never be able to host again.

So I chickened out.

Or wait, maybe it was that I was too prude. I thought to myself, “I don’t want to fuck this guy. He’s only going to be here a few more days, and then the number of people I’ve fucked will increase by one almost pointlessly.”

So I withheld due to being a prude. What has come over me?

Actually... I think it was this:

David. 

It’s all because of David. Because I’m so satisfied by David.

Yeah, every night I’d go to bed wanting Luca, but every night BEFORE going to bed, I’d come home from fucking David.

He’s the newest edition to my ever-building list of fucks.

Except I really like having sex with this one. He is unbelievably beautiful. He’s in fantastic shape, has great endurance, and a beautiful cock that makes me feel so full and satisfied. He’s only the third person to give me a vaginal orgasm.

Mmmmmmm, I love it. 

How You Imagine Me

My roommate Abram knocked on my door yesterday and asked, "How are the shelves coming?"

I looked down at the pile of plywood and hardware that I need to install on the wall. "I've just been on the computer doing squat shit all day," I replied.

It's true; aside from blogging and searching for jobs a tiny bit, I mostly wasted hours of my life yesterday on facebook, OKCupid, Reddit, tumblr, and who knows what the fuck else.

Abram chuckled, "I wonder if this is how your bloggers imagine you. I really doubt it."

Yeah, I really doubt it to. It led me to wonder what you all think of me. What do you think my lifestyle is like? What kind of house would I live in? How do you imagine I look?

I wonder if any of you have figured out yet that I'm poor as fuck. Do you imagine some girl who hasn't showered in days, who hasn't shaved in weeks, who has put makeup on maybe twice in her life, who has never colored her hair, and who wears clothes she found out of the dumpster?

Did any of you realize that for three weeks I was homeless and crashed on couches of strangers I had just met? Would it surprise you to know that now I'm living in a treehouse with 11 other people?

Have you ever thought what my daily activities are? Climbing, caving, kayaking, exploring... Do you imagine me training dogs and pounding the pavement searching desperately for a job?

Probably not.

I go home every few days and play games with my little sisters for hours. My idea of fun is making books out of paper, cardboard, markers, and crayons. I like making stamps and collecting fruit in the hot summers. I barely ever sweat.

I'm desperate for money. I'm in the negative. I have no job. My kitchen has a single can of Del Monte green beens, three limes, a half-full 2-liter of Coke, and the cheapest goddamn rum you can buy, and nothing more. I went to bed hungry last night and only got to eat today because my roommate let me "borrow" two pieces of bread and some peanut butter. I managed to scrounge up some spare change and I'm off to buy ramen later.

My legs are covered in mosquito bites that I scratch and scratch until they scab. I have cellulite on my butt when the light hits it right. If I go more than a week without working out, I get flabby. I'd probably gain 30-50 pounds a year if I didn't work out as often as I do.

When people ask me what we should do, I tell them, "Let's write songs and sing together!" I go to bed pitifully early and wake up before the sun rises. I can't go out on weekend nights because I am on the wrong side of 21 and don't have a fake ID.

Sometimes I sit around and play videogames for hours. Right now, I'm about to go to this little shop and learn how to play Magic.

The one thing that you all have probably accurately guessed is that I've got a great body. I mean it. I know that sounds terribly conceited, but I have spent hundreds, if not thousands of hours, sculpting my body to make sure that I stay in fantastic shape. And I've got large breasts and a large ass. Yep.

I don't think my readers would guess the rest of this about me. But maybe.

Shroomy Sexuality

Over this past weekend, I tried mushrooms for the first time in my life. I really have no idea how much I took -- it was in chocolate. It was certainly enough to give me an interesting experience.

I went in not really knowing anything about shrooms. I had no idea what to expect. I thought either my sexual urges would be intensified or completely suppressed during the trip, but in fact neither happened. Sexually, I felt exactly as I always do.

So the background story is that I went into a forest with my new roommates Jonathan and Scott.

Jonathan is somebody who I intensely like. I mean, not only am I sexually attracted to him, but I'm attracted to him in a relationship-type way. That is rare. However, he's in a long distance relationship with another woman...who will be moving in with us in two weeks (ugh). He has implied that there is mutual attraction, but I doubt he'd ever act on it. OH WELL.

Scott is somebody who, though I'm not attracted to romantically in any way, is very physically attractive.

The whole time I just wanted to fuck them. I wanted to kiss Jonathan. I wanted to reach out and touch Scott's legs. I wanted to remove my clothes and be naked and rub my body on theirs.

These desires were no different than my normal, every-day desires. The only difference is that I consciously thought the words in my mind, "I'd like to reach out and touch Scott's fantastic legs."

So that was interesting, being on a mind-altering substance but not having my sexuality change in any way (as opposed to when I'm drunk or high from marijuana).

But it led me to think about sexuality in women versus men. I'm not going to write some long essay about this (not on this blog, at least), but I have a bit of a rant. I feel like the typical words that often describe men are "dog" and "disgusting" and "only wants one thing," and for women it's more like, "crazy" and "prude". Well I just completely disagree with all that.

I am a woman. I am very much a woman. And fuck, the thoughts that run through my mind are almost always sexual, if not completely sick. I think of what would be the best way to get into a man's pants; I imagine what he'd look like naked; I like to think of what it'd be like to fuck him or them. And sometimes I also think of my dignity and try to be rational. I know men work in a similar fashion. So why are men considered disgusting, and women considered prudes? I see no difference here.

Point is, I want to fuck all the things.

A Boring Update

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Does This Make Me a Player?

I am leaving for a climbing trip down in Moab, Utah today. I will be there for at least five days (or maybe a week) without phone or internet. That means no blog updates, so...sorry, guys.

But I've got an awesome story for you, and I'm sure I'll return from Moab with lots of sexy updates.

Well as you all know I've got this fucking aggressive, incredibly sexy couch surfer who I'm calling Jake for the sake of anonymity. We had another really fun day together yesterday -- I taught him how to be a proper hooligan in the city, and we ended the night running from the cops, and then having some mind-blowingly awesome sex.

(On that note, I think one of the reasons why this guy is so awesome in bed is because he's vocal. He doesn't moan out in high-pitched noises, doesn't make short little grunts -- no, what he does is probably one of the sexiest things I've been witness to. Every time I do something that turns him on or makes him wild -- a bite, a choke, a squeeze, the act of digging my nails into his hips, or when I gag on his dick -- he makes this low, soft, guttural noise that's almost like a growl. It's animalistic, it's instinctual, and it makes me so unbelievably hot.)

So after we finished running from the cops we managed to safely get back to my home, breathless and with adrenaline pumping through us like crazy. As soon as we stepped inside, I shut the door to my bedroom (because another couch surfer was sound asleep in the other room), locked it, and we fucked long and hard. I think it was the best he and I have had yet. And let me tell you, today I am sore. 

He decided that he's going to come with me to Moab. I am going with this great group of people -- I met them all through a couch surfing meetup for the city I'm staying in right now. At the last couch surfing party I went to, a guy who I'll call Seth invited me to go to Moab with the rest of them. The plan is (was) to leave today and then return late Sunday night. So now I'm going to tell you the story of Seth and the waiter...

A few nights ago Seth called me to confirm that I was going to come with him to Moab and that I had all my camping gear. At the end of the conversation, he asked me if he could take me to dinner. I said yes.

So I went to this dinner date with Seth. He took me to a nice restaurant while Jake went off to hang out with some other couch surfers that I introduced him to. Seth and I had a good time -- good conversation and good eats -- however I wasn't really feeling that into him. I kept thinking, "Jeeze, I wish I could be sitting across from my waiter instead of asking him to refill my water. He's gorgeous."

Finally, I decided to say fuck you to social norms. I know this is a total bitch move, but I swear to god that Seth was too dense to notice that I was flirting. I started talking with the waiter, who we'll call Daniel, right in front of Seth. Seth joined in the conversation a bit -- the three of us talked for about 15 or 20 minutes, and I eye-fucked the hell out of Daniel and casually complimented his hair. I mean, he is absolutely one of the most beautiful people I think I've seen in this city. 

I ended up finding out Daniel is a rock climber (that gives you so many extra bonus points; by this time my pussy was basically howling to fuck him), and that he was going to Moab this weekend too! What a crazy coincidence! However, he was going to arrive the day that the rest of us were going to leave. So, I just put myself out there and asked if I could camp with him while he's there, and then just get a ride back with him. He was perhaps a little taken aback by such a bold question after speaking with each other for such a short time, but with eyes lit he said, "Absolutely."

THEN we discovered that we're both planning on being in Argentina at the same time in the Spring, so he asked me if I wanted to travel with him there! I mean, obviously we're not going to make any solid plans -- what if he ends up being lame? But the fact that he was willing to ask that shows that he thinks I am a pretty cool chick.

So we exchanged contact info and I left him a big ole tip.

Seth dropped me off at home, and that's when I went to go meet up with Jake and some other people at another restaurant, and later that night Jake and I ended up fucking for the first time (all this is elaborated on in my last blog post). 

So the point is, I'm kind of being a bit of a player right now. I'm having lots of fun but experiencing a tinge of guilt. I mean, I went on a date with a nice guy, got a phone number of a hottie right in front of him, and then went home and fucked my couch surfer. Then today, I'm going to Moab with the nice guy who likes me, but staying in the tent of my couch surfer who I'm fucking, and then switching tents to stay with the sexy waiter on Sunday and will hopefully end up hot and sweaty with him. 

To this I say:

Fuck yeah. 

Why I Love Climbing, And Why You Should Too

I used to climb when I was young. Like, think teeny little kid whose whole body is about as thick as your thigh. I was young and energetic and loved darting up those rocks. But after a few years my dad lost interest in climbing, and therefore stopped taking me...and now it's years later and I'm just now getting back into it.

About a year ago I decided to try climbing again. I would climb maybe an hour twice a week in an indoor gym. I didn't really know what I was doing, and I didn't learn much. I stopped after a few months.

But this past summer, I decided it was time to get serious. About three or four months ago, I started climbing indoors again for about 14+ hours a week, not including camping trips which easily add on another 30 hours. I really put my efforts into improving my strength, but more specifically my balance and technique. And damn, I got good quick. In the first two months I gained ten pounds but lost inches around my waist. My movements became fluid and I started to understand the wall. I finally got into outdoor climbing about a month or two ago, and that's almost exclusively what I do now.

A History of My Sexual Development

Since this is the first post of this new blog, I figure it’s appropriate to talk about the origin of my sexuality.

I am absolutely the most sexual 20-something female I know. I started masturbating to orgasm when I was about 3 or 4 years old. (Psychologists say that young children display this behavior when they experience great amounts of stress, but that story is for another day.) By the time I was 8, I was looking at internet porn. I would wake up way the fuck early in the morning, around 3 or 3:30 am to be able to use the computer without my parents’ knowledge. I would check on my neopets, gather all the free things around that silly website, and then search in yahoo “boobs” or “penis” or something. I would type random words that I thought might be pornographic into the URL and add .com to the end. Examples: sex.com, porn.com, boobs.com, penis.com, vagina.com, butt.com, and so on. Eventually I started to understand the internets better, understand search engines better, and I finally was able to find myself some nice photographic pornography websites. I’d get myself off to that, then after the flooding relief of an orgasm, I would feel sick and full of shame, so I would get back onto neopets and donate money to the giving tree and hope that I was not going to hell. Then I’d pitter-patter back to my room and masturbate to orgasm several more times before my alarm clock would go off, signaling that it was time to get ready for school.

I didn’t know what I was doing. I didn’t know that touching myself down there was masturbation. I didn’t know what a clitoris was, even though I played with mine several hours a day. I didn’t know that what I was doing was fucked up for an 8-year-old (or for a 3-year-old). I didn’t know that it was supposed to be private. Sometimes I’d even masturbate in school. I’d just sort of dance on the corner of my seat until that awesome feeling overcame my body. Other kids didn’t know what I was doing or that it was considered fucked up. I knew that other kids didn’t do it, though, which gave me certain power in social circles. For instance, there was this one group of girls who liked to share secrets during recess. We would whisper secrets into each other’s ears one at a time. If you were lucky, you’d hear mine — “put your hands on your private place and rub them all around and it will feel really good.” Eventually the other kids would start dancing on their chairs too — but then they’d stop, and I was the only one who was consistent with it.