My Reality Check

It's been a long time since I've posted. Sorry, everybody. I got a new job and have been working 50 hours a week. Both my moped and bike have now become out of service, so I commute by foot now, and that takes a long time. This means I have pretty much not spent any time writing or on the computer at all recently.

I recently wrote a post about finally hooking up with a friend who I've like for a long time. Well, we decided to try the whole boyfriend/girlfriend thing out. It's been great fun! I really like this guy and definitely gain a lot of emotional fulfillment out of being with him.

We decided to keep the relationship open under the conditions that (1) We always use a condom, and (2) we tell each other every time we have a new partner. This was a great setup.

But...there's a problem. I neglected to tell Liam that I'd had unprotected sex with somebody before we started dating (well, the condom broke). When this information finally surfaced, it was a large rift in trust. Having an open relationship when you can't trust your partner is hard. So both times I told him about new partners, he had a really difficult time receiving the information out of fear that I was lying about my use of protection with them, and out of fear that I wasn't using any protection. To quell his fears, I decided to get tested on everything.

I went down to the local Planned Parenthood and was shocked to discover that Rick Perry stripped Texas of all its state funding. Therefore, all services were full-priced. I dished out a hundred and fucking ninety dollars on credit (money I don't have) and in exchange was tested on every goddamn STI known to man. They said everything looked good but they'd get back to me in three days with all the results.

So yesterday rolled around and I was woken up by a phone call from the doctor.

Positive for chlamydia. Fuck.

Well that's gross. I feel tainted, irresponsible, and stupid. Luckily the fix is easy. I just have to take one little pill and then it's gone forever. It's easier than treating a UTI. But, for the next two weeks I can't drink at all and I also can't have any sex, not even while using a condom with my boyfriend Liam who surely has it too.

I thought back to all the people that I've fucked in the last 60 days, and Landon is the only one with whom it has been unprotected who didn't have clean paperwork to show me. So, he's the one who gave it to me. Though I haven't seen him in over a month, I called him to tell him that he had chlamydia and he needed to get treated and couldn't have sex for the next two weeks.

Well shit, he already knew. In fact, he knew WHEN we were having sex that he had it. And when he saw the condom was broken, he neglected to tell me to get myself fucking tested and treated. I mean, dude. It's fucking chlamydia. It's not a big deal at all. There's no reason to lie about fucking chlamydia if you come inside a gal. Just tell her so she can get the easy-peasy antibiotic without spreading it around to everybody else.

The reason why I stopped seeing Landon over a month ago was because he started having unprotected sex with another girl without getting her tested, and so he was putting himself and myself at risk. I later found out that she is Liam's ex (Liam is my boyfriend... small fucking world). After Liam broke up with her, she ended up fucking a friend of his who is HIV positive and also positive for Hep C, without using a condom any time.

So, I told Landon that the gal he was fucking was probably positive for HIV or Hep C or both just in case he wasn't already aware. Of course he broke down and freaked out and now he's going to get himself tested in two months to find out if he has either.

Shit, I dodged a bullet with him, because I stopped seeing him right before he started seeing her.

But the point is, through all my promiscuity, I got chlamydia and narrowly missed getting HIV and Hep C. That shit is fucked up. And I'm scared out of my mind. So is Liam. What a reality check.

And so we came up with a solution.

Monogamy.

Jesus fucking Christ. I'm not excited about it. But I'm scared of STIs right now, and so is he, and the emotional fulfillment that I get from him is worth the sexual frustration that I will most likely be experiencing in monogamy.

We need time for his trust to rebuild in me. I mean, first I told a lie, and then second I gave him an STI. Yeah, some trust definitely needs to be rebuilt. Then of course we need to figure out a way to really, 100% protect ourselves against STIs with other people. My guess is it will be months before the idea of opening our relationship back up is thrown on the table again.

We'll see how long this lasts. I wonder if I can actually successfully do monogamy again. I really care about Liam, so I will give it my best shot.

Point is... get yourself and every partner you have tested every three months, and ALWAYS use a condom. Don't trust what anybody tells you about if they're clean or not. They do not know. I didn't know; I didn't have any symptoms, and I trusted the empty words of my partners. Therefore, I got chlamydia and unknowingly spread it to other people.

Good luck in this scary world!!

Tornado Debauchery and Deep Emotions

For all you horn-dogs who don't care about background story and wanna just get to the juicy details (not saying there's a problem with that), search for the phrase, "moment of truth" and read from there. This is a very vanilla yet explicit story. But if you'd like the full, passionate effect, I suggest you read from the beginning.  

I may not seem like the relationship type, and I may love shallow, meaningless, raw sexual relations... but I'm totally head over heels for somebody.

I moved back to my hometown seven weeks ago due to a family emergency after being gone for a few years. I left a life I loved in a city I loved to move back to a city I thought I'd never live in again. It was a hard transition. Liam is the first friend I made here.

I met him off OKCupid of all places. We had a first date and it was really fantastic! He just sent me a one-lined message (which I almost never respond to) that said something along the lines of, "Hey wanna go fuck some shit up tomorrow night?" or something -- he was referring to a block of text in my profile where I mentioned I loved doing hooligan activities, like graffiti and such.

So I gave him my number and on my second or third night in town, we met up with a few cans of spray paint and "fucked some shit up" -- we painted stencils of Frida Kahlo on the sidewalk -- for a few hours and then went to an all-night restaurant with our hands totally covered in paint. The conversation was great, the activities were great, and by the morning we decided to have a second date.

Beef Jerky

I pulled up on my little moped to Jeremy's house quivering with anticipation. It had been eight days since I'd seen him, and eight days since I'd been penetrated. I normally can't even wait more than two days, but I've been so busy climbing and have also been out of town, so it just hasn't happened.

He opened the door as I approached the front of his house; I looked up and smiled at how incredibly good-looking he is. Jeremy is tall, has dark, curly hair, and a beautiful face with a strong jawline. He also probably has the best body of anybody I've slept with.

I stepped in and began to remove my many layers -- it's unbelievably cold outside for riding a moped around. First came off the rain jacket -- then we hugged. Then came off the next two jackets -- then we kissed. I put my freezing cold fingers to his neck and he shuddered a bit and asked me how I was doing. "COLD!" I responded. He felt my bright red ears after I took off my fleece hat and told me I should be wearing a helmet. I asked him where would I get the money for such a purchase?

I was now standing in front of this gorgeous man in my pink leotard and the most ridiculous looking slacks that were ever made. (If you're curious, they're black, high-waisted pleated dress pants that hug my ankles and have heel straps.) We walked back to his room making small talk.

"So where have you been out of town?"

"Oh, out west to <redacted> where I climbed some of the best granite I've ever seen! I mean, really world-class climbing out there!" I responded as I took of my shoes.

He grabbed my shoulders and bent down to kiss me. I couldn't help but smile because of the intense excitement that I felt at the fact that I WAS ABOUT TO GET LAID.

I pushed him over toward the bed. He started to laugh and resisted my movements. He asked me more questions and tried to have more conversation with me. Instead of replying with words, I just unbuckled my belt and started to remove my pants. I sat on the bed and pulled him on top of me.

How I Came to Peg my Couch Surfer

We all have favorite memories, and today I’m going to write about one of mine. The immense pressure to accurately and beautifully recount my favorite story has prevented me from actually sitting down and working on this for months. It’s time I actually solidify this experience in words.

Unfortunately, because it’s been so long, I have forgotten many of the details. I thought long and hard on whether I should fudge them. I settled on writing the story as clearly as I remember it, but unfortunately it lacks a certain explicit erotic quality. To all my readers, if you’re looking to read porn, don’t waste your time on this post. However, if you’d like to read an inspiring and awesome story that just doesn’t talk too explicitly about sex, then read on!

Nikolaus had a cute smile in his couch surfing profile photo. He had no references, but neither did I at the time. I read his couch request -- his poor English made me giggle a bit, and I was excited to be accepting my fifth couch surfer. He requested to sleep at my house for three days at the end of the week. I explained to him that I already had two couch surfers sleeping on the spare mattresses then, but that he was welcome to sleep on the floor. He responded hilariously, “That’s okay and I’m agree.”

I was excited to have a German stay with me! I had only just made my CS profile about two weeks earlier, and I was still very new to it all. After a few emails sent back and forth, and with his dilemma of not having a phone, we decided that he’d show up at my place at 11pm on the day of his arrival.

Well, 11pm rolled by, and he didn’t show. Without his owning a phone, I had no way to contact him to ask him where he was. So I figured after another hour that he just wasn’t going to show. I had two other couch surfers at the time -- two sweet girls from China. They went to sleep in the living room, and I fell asleep in my bedroom. Long into sleep, I heard a knock, knock, knocking. Eventually I woke up and realized it was my couch surfer! I ran to the door and let him in at 3am.

Don't Swallow

After throwing me on the bed and ripping off my clothes, <redacted> used one hand to undo his belt and put his other on the back side of my neck. He pulled me upward with my legs around his, and said, "I want you to suck my cock until I come, and then I want you to rub that come all over your pussy."

He proceeded to face fuck me for a few moments before letting me give him a slow, deep blowjob. I didn't mess around -- no playful licking, no kissing his head -- I just took him deep, slowly, wrapped my tongue around his dick, and then eventually sped it up a bit. With my hands on his hips I pumped my head up and down and let my tongue and lips do all the work.

After only a few short minutes of this, he clenched the hair on the back of my head and told me he was going to come. "Don't swallow it," he desperately begged. "Save it for that sweet little pussy of yours...."

Bursts of hot come spurted into my mouth. I consciously didn't swallow. Instead I leaned forward, opened my mouth a small amount, and let the come drip from my lips over my pussy.

I then took my hands to rub it all over, and let him lick it up before we made out again. Then he shoved his already hard again dick deep inside me, and we fucked for the next hour.

That was hot.

The Condom Kept Breaking

We walked out of the springs onto the dry limestone, and I arched my back a bit as I squeezed the water out of my hair and let it rest over my shoulder as the remaining drips slid over my right breast. I walked over to the fence to look at the dried up creek bed on the other side, when I felt him come up behind me. Landon put his hands just beneath my arms on my rib cage -- his fingertips just barely touched the sides of my breasts. I felt his groin press up against my ass, and he thrusted in ever so slightly. He whispered in my ear, "You like that?" Feeling his slightly stiff cock press into the crack of my ass through our thin bathing suit, I can say I very much enjoyed it. But I simply smiled and looked over my shoulder to show my approval.

I pushed him away and continued to walk on. I could feel his eyes burn into my ass as he followed me. We went to the changing rooms and got dressed again, and then I dropped him off at the bar where he was meeting his friends later that evening.

That was our second date. When we were swimming laps in the huge natural pool, he even was so daring to grab my ass and shake it around under the water. Periodically, he would disappear, and a few moments later I'd see him pop up from under the water, smiling mischievously with his goggles on. I knew he was taking in the underwater view of my breast stroke. 

For our third date, I met him at his house. We went to the store and bought food for a picnic in his backyard. After a few hours of good conversation and eats, good music and laughter, I started to kiss him. He'd already kissed me a few times but I was reserved before. This time he took my willingness enthusiastically and returned with aggressive kissing. He grabbed my chin and pulled me upward so that I was standing. We made out while I touched him everywhere I could. I ran a hand up his spine; I pulled at his shoulder blades; I dug my thumbs into his hip bones (one of my favorite things to do), and he pushed down my black high-waisted cutoffs. Underneath, I was wearing a purple leotard. 

He pushed me up against a tree and examined what I was wearing. "Is this...is this a leotard?" he asked almost comically. It was bright, tight-fitting and 100% spandex. He squeezed his hands around my waist, felt up to my tits and bit on my nipples through the fabric. He moved his hand downward and started playing between my legs and could feel that I'd soaked through a small spot. "Fuck, this leotard is sexy. Jesus, we could have some fun in this." I took off his shirt, unbuckled his belt, and he responded, "But not tonight." 

Fantasy Fulfilled

For the last several days, I have been enjoying an empty home free of couch surfers. Don't get be wrong -- I absolutely love couch surfing and think it's a fulfilling experience that has taught me more in a few weeks than most experiences. But hosting 10 people in 15 days really wore me out, and I was glad to have some peace and quiet in the small apartment that where I'm currently living. But I have trouble saying no to travelers who want to stay on my spare mattresses because I really do get so much enjoyment out of it (sometimes sexy enjoyment), and two days ago I got a couch request from a new surfer.

For the sake of clearing up any confusion, we're going to call this hot couch surfer Jake (all names that I use on this blog are censored or fake), so that we don't get him confused with any other couch surfers I've fucked or will fuck.

At around 4:45pm, Jake sent me his initial message. He said something along the lines of, "Hey, I'm going to be in town at 5pm tonight. I know it's last minute, but could I stay on your couch? I'm backpacking across the states right now, so I'm really dirty and haven't showered in like 4 days and it would be awesome to clean up."

He had no references, no friends, pretty bare text on his profile, and only a single photo. But damn, he was hot. And damn, I was horny. And also, he's backpacking across the US, which is my plan as soon as I find somebody to take over this damn lease. So, I said yes.

Out of the Friendzone - How My Friend Seduced Me

Every man's worst fear is being put in the friendzone, because once you're there, you're never going to leave. It's especially terrible if she leads you on -- sometimes to the point of very blue balls -- and then friendzones you. Well, guys, I'm here to tell you that being friendzoned is not always a permanent thing, and with the powers of seduction, you can push your way past it.

For a short while, I decided to try using OKCupid. As shitty as the site sounds, and as much stigma as there is around online dating, I had a blast using it. I met ten people in total and fucked three of them.

Well eventually I got a message from censored, and it was good enough for me to give him my number right away in my response to him. He talked about rock climbing and feminism -- two of my favorite subjects -- and talked about himself as well. He seemed interesting, didn't talk about sex, and was completely literate. (Another day I'll make a post about online dating and how to write a great first message.)

I told him I had about 30 minutes to meet, and we went for coffee. The conversation was great! It flowed so well, and we each had so much to say. Well, 30 came and went, and next thing we knew, the coffee shop was closed. After that, he ended up asking if I wanted to ride on the back of his motorcycle. This was a fantastic move on his part for a number of reasons. First, I love motorcycles, and even own one myself, so it was yet another thing we had in common. But more importantly, it would force me to sit with my legs straddled over his bike and my body pressed against his with my arms wrapped around him. We went from sitting a polite distance apart from each other in a cafe to having our bodies pressed up against each other's on a sexualized object. This not only gave him a good 30 minutes of feeling my body heat, but broke the ice for touching, and allowed for very comfortable kino (see footnote) afterward. We made our way to the park and played on the playground together. It was fun, simple, and a great way to keep the date going without spending more money.

The next night he wound up in my house. Things got pretty heavy, but he put limits on what he wanted to do because he was looking for more of a relationship, and he knew that I wanted to just find a good fuck. Eventually he went home, and I ended up calling one of my other FWB to satisfy my blue balls (or ovaries...whatever).

My Professor

My professor is hot. He's unbelievably hot, actually. Actually, in addition to teaching, he's also a world-class athlete who competes with the best of the best in his sport. And holy shit he's fucking hot. And he's not too old -- I mean, I'm less than 2/3 his age, but still... he's young enough.

And anyway, he wants to fuck me. He told me so.

So here's the story.

I met censored at the gym and found out that he was the professor for this class that I really wanted to take but didn't have the prerequisites for. School had already started and I'd already missed his first lesson. But we started talking, I put on my charms, and somehow managed to convince him to let me take his class even though I am in no way qualified for it.

I showed up to the next lesson an hour early (class had been delayed an hour and I hadn't realized). He arrived a few minutes after I did so that he could start preparing for the class. I ended up just hanging out with him until class started. But I was completely taken aback by his behavior. As other people would walk by the classroom, he would point to them and say, "Would you fuck that guy?" I mean, seriously -- my professor was asking me if I would fuck the various people who were walking by. I always answered, "Excuse me! I'm not going to answer that question! So just stop asking!" He would respond with, "I'm just trying to gauge your taste in men. I know some people [students] who are looking for a girl, that's all." I told him that I have enough boys as it is.

Erotic Recounts: The Botanical Gardens

For all you pedophiles, voyeurs, and exhibitionists out there, this story is for you. I was 16, and censored was 18.

We were at the local botanical gardens walking around in the middle of spring. The weather was beautiful, the flowers were in full bloom.

Walking through the bamboo garden, we were slightly secluded, and he took that opportunity to kiss me. At first it started out as a slow, romantic kiss. Our lips met, with his hands on my waist. Those hands moved downward onto my hips, then a soft caress of my ass. Even though this picturesque environment and this loving kiss were romantic, my thoughts were increasingly dirty. My pussy became ever more wet, and I whispered into his ear after a short nibble that we needed to fuck.

Looking around we realized that the bamboo garden was not a suitable place, so we continued to walk around, occasionally fingers flickering over each other’s pelvic areas. People were everywhere. After several more minutes of walking, we realized that we were either going to have to leave or find a way to fuck in front of everybody.

We sat on a bench in the middle of this circular garden to formulate a plan. The path winding through the gardens looped around where we were sitting, so we were visible from all 360°. We were talking, trying to figure out where we could have sex (home was too far away, hotels were too expensive — we could possibly go back to that business a few blocks away with an abandoned parking lot…), but the conversation became less verbal and increasingly more handsy.

Meeting People

Where do I meet the people I fuck? A lot of places. I met censoredon OKCupid. I met censored at school in the dining hall. I met censored on the craigslist casual sex section. (I posted an ad looking for a particular adventure, he was one of the few hundred who responded, and he won.) I met censored because he was my couch surfer. I met censored and censored in a cafe and we just started talking.

I also meet lots of people that I end up not fucking for whatever reason, or I haven’t fucked yet.
I met censored on the street. He was on his skateboard, and he pushed past me. He scared the crap out of my because I didn’t hear him coming. He apologized, and kept moving on…but he kept looking back. And I was staring at him with my mouth open because fuck, he was handsome. Then he got to the red light and had to wait for it to turn green. I managed to catch up to him before then. I walked by him and just stared directly at him. I think it made him pretty uncomfortable because he very awkwardly said, “Hi…how are you..?” I stopped in my tracks and said, “I’m doing well…you?” And then we started talking. THAT’S HOW YOU DO IT. Just fucking stare. Just talk to him (or her). Be direct. Direct, unwavering eye contact will grab a person’s attention. Stopping in your tracks to talk to a person will grab that person’s attention. Just fucking do it.

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.