Cassanova

I've had one too many beers tonight and I won't even start how much nicotine I've ingested (yep... it was a lot it felt like I ate them). If you knew me (which hopefully you don't unless we're talking about knowing me in the biblical sense), I never like going to bed reeking of alcohol and cigarettes. Nevermind if I fell into beer keg or a burning cigarette factory or how late it is, I will clean up. After all, it is one of the rules if you're sleeping around... ALWAYS CLEAN UP. Anyhoo, while waiting for while waiting for my hair to dry, I suddenly remembered the first time I had sex.

My first sexual experience occurred at the ripe old age of 15. Before you balk at that, remember kids here mature waaaaay faster than I did. So there, shut up and read. At that time, my boyfriend was 22. Nevermind the legality of it all, where I grew up the age difference of people in a relationship was not a big concern. Looking back, I could've done better but I was 15, what the fuck did I know. He was a self-proclaimed cassanova. Had a record of (according to him) 35 women. He's done it all, he's seen it all. SO there I was, a nervous, giddy and curious 15 year old ready to be introduced to the world of carnal pleasures and sexual exploration. I just knew he would be this increadible lover, the person who would shake me to the core with earth shattering orgasms and the one who would make me a woman way ahead of schedule. I was a fucking idiot. Any virgin would tell you that the memorable thing about their first time, was the pain. I remembered the sheer boredom, disappointment and yes, the pain. Cassanova here knew nothing about sex. I felt that, as someone without any experience and know how, I should have been handled with kid gloves. Made to feel relaxed and in the mood. I had a bad feeling when I saw his dick. He said he was a size 9, so his dick would be proportional. It was quite the opposite. It was the little engine that wished it could. He poked at me like you would poke the dying embers of the logs in the fire place. He really wanted to go deep but little engine had it's limits. He clumsily cupped my ample (that's underexaggeration) breasts and could not find my damn nipple. When he did, he poked, twisted and prodded it like it was some sort of science experiment. He never even knew that he'd broken through and made my guarded virginity non-existent. He just huffed and puffed and I never even knew what I was supposed to do. There was no foreplay, no gentle finger stimulation not even oral sex, which incidentally I was expecting due to the numerous porn flicks I saw. I wanted it. I expected it. It should come with the fucking package!!! None of that happened. After about 10 minutes I knew I had to do something. Coincidentally, this was also the night, I learned to fake my orgasm. I learned to fake it just so he would stop. And when he was done, he rolled over, fully satisfied and spent. And lovingly, douchebag here turns to me and smiles sweetly and asks "did you like it? was it good?" my mistake at that time was I lied to him. I made him believe he was the emperor of sex. ANd for a year I had nothing but bad sex. I told myself I would never ever, ever see the light of another bad sexual encounter in the future (unfortunately, it happend but in 3 different versions... more to come).

On my 16th birthday, he did me a favor by going down on me. Finally!! I get some pussy licking!!. I figured, he must have some redeeming quality. It's like when you see a totally butt ugly person but this person has an increadible sexy voice, that's sort of a redeeming quality. If Cassanova was bad at sex, maybe he was good at oral sex. Maybe now he can make my toes curl and give me a chance to roll my eyes back. Again, I was proven to be a totally fucking idiot. Cassanova's tongue was a short as his dick was. The guy could not find my clit even if his life depended on it. I wanted to grab the lamp on the night stand, point towards my clit and say "HERE IT IS YOU FUCKING IDIOT!!! RIGHT INFRONT OF YOU!!! LICK THERE!!!!" he tried for the first five miutes, had the gall to look up and ask "did you cum?". I could not hide my shock. Are you serious?!? he mistook my shock for I wanted some more, so he went down again after which, and up to this day I could not believe that I did, (I) faked the orgasm again... during oral sex. Suffice it to say, I didn't ask for another round of oral sex and he never offered. A few months later, Cassanova and I broke up. Now that was a redeeming quality.

An Ode to Self Love and phone sex -- part 2: afterglow

Turns out I didn't need a time machine, things got quiet early so "TJ" my "phone pal" for the night got down to business. There are a lot of things I like about phone sex, apart from, given the honesty to your gender, you can totally look like put together shit and it won't matter the person on the other line. You could be dressed in sweat pants and an old old t-shirt or covered in cold cream with a bucket of very rocky road next to you while you watch The Jay Leno show (or replays of that fucker Kanye West) and still, the moment you say "hello..." you turn into this vixen in fishnet stockings wearing come fuck me heels and nothing else. Nevermind if you're a 220 lb cutie that likes to wear faded jeans and bras too small for you (woah, Dr. Freud cleanup on aisle 4!!), point is to TJ, I was hot.

ANd the action was hot. Steamy, sweaty, wet and not to mention loud. I could have possibly broadcasted to my neighbors that I was having this phenomenal phone sex but honest truth, I could not give a rats ass. And to this date, this was the nastiest, dirtiest and most imaginative phone sex I've had. There were no visuals. I have absolutely no idea what he looked like, but I knew he had facial hair. That's my requirement. SOmething about a non-manscaped man that's kempt that just makes me hot... but I digress. We start simple, but we start fast. And the guy can make his imagination fly. THing about me, I love dirty talk. The dirtier the better. Things I would find offensive in everyday conversation turns sexy in the heat of the moment. For example, call me a "bitch whore" in normal conversation, I'd drop kick your balls in a heartbeat.... but call me that while you tell me your slamming deep into me, gets me all hot and bothered. TJ spewed the nastiest shit you could possibly say (ok just to be clear, there was no nasty bodily functions involved) and it got my blood pumping and my juices flowing. From his end, I've been licked, sucked, spanked, spun, some spitting was involved and of course fucked out of my brains. And you could tell this guy wasn't faking it. You could actually hear him jerk off which adds to the sexy factor of the moment. The night ended in a very satisfying and much needed orgasm. It's different when you orgasm by yourself as opposed to orgasming by yourself but with vocal help from someone. The orgasm comes (no pun intended) harder, like how it feels after getting something from delaying gratification. It's almost like you have tunnel vision, and you become oblivious to all around you. Is it really like that? or have I been not having sex for a long time.

An Ode to Self Love and phone sex -- part 1

I was reminiscing about the late 80's early 90's about 3 days ago. I thought I'd keep my youth close by downloading some tunes. Today I came upon that wonderful DiVinyls song "I Touch Myself". That song says it all. It's an unabashed love song about thinking about someone and getting all hot and bothered. Glorifying masturbation at it's best. I remember in catholic school the nuns would say masturbation is a sin. Can it really be bad if it's so good? wouldn't the nuns, in all their hollier than thou approach to preserving the virginity for the marital bed, be happy that instead of boffing the boy next door's brains out, I'd boff my own brains out? at least I kept my virginity. Haha. NO one really listened to the nuns. Years later, research showed that masturbation (in moderation) is actually very healthy. Hallelujah!! score one for the nerds, nada for the nuns :)

I'm a fairly healthy individual, I indulge in a little sexual excess every now and then but there are days that I just would like to forgo human contact, but not totally. So with the thought of spending the night alone but in a masturbatory state of mind, I decided to troll a certain site that advertises everything. A few lines and a major suggestion and BAM!!! I got more emails than a B movie celebrity and a schedules phone sex to end all phone sex. I have someone lined up for tonight. Our first few emails could make your toes curl, suffice it to say hot enough to make me wish I had a time machine so I could jump 3 hours into the future for our scheduled telephone romp.

The Player

Player may refer to:
Player (dating), slang term for a (usually male, but also female) individual skilled at sexual seduction

I wasn't born here. I was washed ashore so many years ago. I was wide eyed and bushy tailed but I wasn't totally naive. My only experiece with sex was a bad one, and the memory of that bad experience was the one I took with me when I arrived.... more on that in the posts to come...

My exposure to men and dating was limited, so I was delighted when The Player came knocking on my door. I knew what he was all about. I knew his game and I knew his intentions. And I was ready... bursting at the seams to just let out all the sexual frustrations I've been bottling up all these frickin' years. A funny thing on my way to be nailed by TP, was my lack of terminology. Late one night, after pigging out on copious amounts of ice cream, TP called and asked if I'd like to "kick it". I wasn't exactly sure what "it" was and why should we kick "it" but hey, I'm game. I told myself to be open to new ideas and sexual experiences. Franky, I was hoping he'd come over and poke my brains out since masturbation ain't cutting it anymore. So he came that night, I could see he was excited. I could practically feel his hard on emanate heat and burning away every stitch of clothing I had. We sat in his car for a good 10 mins. talking about bullshit things, just trying to get a feel, then it was like a shot was fired between us because in about 10 secs we were all over each other. His hand under my blouse, me clumsily undoing his pants, then his mouth replacing his hands and then... he sticks his hand down my pants and he goes... "woah... it's like a broken pipe"... the virgin in me (oh hahha shut up) kinda pulled away, the bitch said "well do you have a problem with that??" at the same time successfully finding my way into his pants... apparently he doesn't have a problem with it.

This is where it turns a little bit.... hinky, I suppose. In the heat of the moment, we lost all thought and we just jumped out of the car and in the cover of darkness, proceeded to "kick it" outdoors. Yep. Outdoors... where the neighbors can see us had they been awake at that late hour... who knows, maybe they were. But a blow to TP's ego was that since we were outside, he had performance issues and so did I. Remember, this was the first time in 50,000 years I had sex again. So the sexual tension that was building just went kaput. TP and I made another schedule to kick it although nothing ever came of it. Just a few here and there and to be honest, nothing head spinning about it.

A Hiccup

On the way home yesterday from the shrink's office (uh no, not for me), a car whizzed past by me on the intersection. I thought the driver was familiar. A momentary glance was all I needed to know, that he was my first ever hiccup.

What's a hiccup you say? well, a hiccup in my world is like a mini-episode porn episode... or let's say it's the soft porn in my hardcore porn sexual life. A hiccup does everything but... you get my point. This hiccup I named, Mama's Boy (MB).. because well, do I really need to explain it?? he was a mama's boy. Sad though, this guy was impossibly handsome guy... tall, a slightly muscular yet I don't work out body, wavy dark thick hair and piercing jet black eyes. He had this middle eastern air about him which really worked in his favor. He could have any girl in the next 7 counties but once mama calls on his cellphone, he can barely button his pants before he's out the door.

I met MB through one of his relatives. Funny no? this relative of his actually was trying to put the moves on me, to which I replied "if I wanted to sleep with my father's oldest brother??! I'll give him a call!" just for the record, I'm not into the family thing.. that's just sick. Maybe to get on my good side, old relative introduced me to him. Just like any typical male, Mama's boy started with the right words. The sweet nothings, the thoughtful phone calls. Not that I was expecting commitment from him. I was smart enough to know that his type (and all the other types like him that I "dated" after and before) will never commit, but the gestures were nice. That went on for a few weeks and a month until we hooked up finally... thing is, we never hooked up all the way. My "relationship" with MB was purely oral... for him. I always got the short end of the stick so to speak (and by no means was is short... it was impressive -- a characteristic of his type) before mama came a-calling. I didn't mind really, he reacted, he was enthusiastic, he talked dirty which turned me on and he counted down to his orgasm to give me due notice. Isn't that considerate? If we had the actual sex, I think it would've have been great... he seemed to know where to put his hands, where to put his lips and tongue and how to control junior. Why we never went all the way? bad timing on his part. He comes (ahem) on those times where I am unable to ride :D but it never stopped him from asking for a little fellatio oral love. And I gave it willingly because he was so gosh darned handsome. Then one day, MB disappeared... stayed quiet and out of my life forever... *sigh*... serves me for being too shallow.

The First of Many...

posts I hope. I started blogging about the men I slept with once. It got to be too much. Total slut? I don't think so.. just more adventurous than most. Until recently, I have been committing to memory all my sexual escapades... until a very dear friend of mine pushed me (with much convincing mind you) into resurrecting the blog (he's lucky he's far enough away to be a casual reader and not participant hahaha). Why not? why should men be the only ones to spew their thoughts on the day after. I shall have my day... and the day starts now...

**DISCLAIMER: THE NAMES OF THE MEN, THEIR APPEARANCE, RACE, NATIONALITY, AGE, WERE CHANGED TO PROTECT THE SATISFIED**

One of these days, I will start from the very beginning but for now, let me tell you about Construction Guy (CG). One thing you ought to know about me, is that I like being single. Not that I look down on the committed and the married, but I like how I can just pick up and run where I want to without a care in the world. But sometimes, being single gets lonely. You can't really blame me is i troll for me. Being in the IT age, most of the legwork for dating has been taken care of the Internet. So I met Construction guy last weekend in a certain chat room. Innocently enough, we start talking. Let me get this straight, I did not meet him with the thought of sleeping with him... companionship for the night, yes; cuddling, sure; maybe a little kissing but hopefully no, having sex with? no. The bio hazard alarm sounding in my head the moment I saw him should've triggered red flags. See what I hate about the Internet, is that people aren't who they seem to be. Photos can be deceiving, tone of voice another matter. This guy in person, was nothing like they guy online. Being the nice girl that I am (sure), I decided to give CG a chance... we share a laugh, a little joke, a drink... then the guy proceeded to eat my face!! WTF!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I looked back to the time I lost virginity when I was 15. My boyfriend at that time had no clue. Granted, I didn't know anything about sex then, but I knew enough to know that it wasn't supposed to be that bad.. I laid there, like a stiff board, counting the minutes. That was also the time I learned to fake an orgasm but that's another story.

So CG eats my face... he was everywhere, I could feel his teeth, he kept shoving his tongue down my throat...it was really bad... what ever possessed me to have sex with him, I think it was a momentary lapse in judgement. I didn't think anyone could do worse than my first boyfriend... God, I was wrong. This man was the absolute worst. Pity though, he had the equipment... and what a fine equipment it was. I believe that if you're going to teach sex ed in schools.. teach the boys that SEX IS NOT ALL ABOUT POUNDING AND GRUNTING!! Because seriously that was what it was. A lot of humping and grunting and nothing else. I tell him "like that" and he stops and does it another way... I go "right there" and he goes another way... and normally in sex, if you're in the missionary position, at least you and him are on the level face to face... this guy was face to face with my breasts. Afterwards he was so proud of himself and what is to become a mortal sin to me, asked me for a post-coital fellatio. I was dead tired from the sex, and in a bad way. I think.. so far this has got to be the worst sexual encounter I had... EVER!!!