And I Was a Fool

Sometimes you lose. Sometimes, you REALLY lose. Meeting people online is NOT a guarantee that their personality matches their online persona. The Jewish Asshole is such a case. Disclaimer: this is probably a terrible read, but, I need/want to write all of my experiences. At least the next two are awesome. Cheers!

It didn’t take long for me to bored at my new job. I needed something to tie me over while Tony Stark was busy with holiday things. For the first time when posting an ad, I wanted to say I was in a relationship. I didn’t say exactly what stage of a relationship, or exactly why I was looking for something more, but that I was. I got a whole new type of men: men wanting someone that would NEVER be attached. I fit that perfectly. Perfect Baggage taught me that. The first one I met was also the first man that ever fucked me literally and figuratively. There were flags that he was just replying to random people and not actually “looking”:

His initial email was incredibly long. I replied and asked quite a few questions; his response was two sentences. One was him asking where I lived.
He didn’t have a car but drove as a chauffeur for someone. I don’t judge…but I should see the signs now. Car and adult beds are necessary to hang with Catherine.
We texted just one day and he wanted me to come see him. Should always wait more than that. Always.
He never even asked about birth control, stds, condoms–nothing. Let’s just toss this penis in a vagina and hope for the best!

Jewish Asshole was my height, wore glasses, 28 (3 years my senior), Jewish (obviously), very cute, from Chicago with a Chicago style personality, and when I saw his penis….it was average, I guess. He was very full of himself through text and in person. When I got there, his place was a shrine to the Dallas Cowboys. I hate the Cowboys. He had three lizard things that he kissed like they were his children. Jewish Asshole mentioned that he was great at massages, so I took him up on it. Annnnd that’s how I had the most awkward breathing in my ear sex. First I thought he was sick. No, he wasn’t. He just always sounded like a 40+ year old overweight man. The sex wasn’t that good. He kept the same pace, thrust length, and that was it. Jewish Asshole loved getting head, but never touched my pussy–clit included. Period.

So, the sex didn’t make him the asshole. How he (or some magical fairy) stole from me makes him the asshole. The very first time I was there, we smoked some pot together. It doesn’t lower my inhibitions or memory like alcohol. I KNOW I put things in my purse. When I left, my iPod wasn’t in my purse. I texted him the next day when I realized it. He looked and found it underneath a chair. It was turned off when I got it the next day. It was not mine and was broken. Now, before we get into the whole, you needed to go to the police or something, how do I explain to my partner that this happened while I was having casual sex with this asshole. I confronted him, and he told me that he had no reason to steal my iPod. I believed him because I didn’t have a reason not to, and he gave me some crazy to believe story that I kinda believed. I didn’t learn my lesson.
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He liked me coming over to just hang out; we watched tv, movies, and football. He wasn’t terrible, he was just…not that great of a friend. Jewish Asshole bummed rides from me to go to places. One time he did, we went back to his place, and when I left…money from my purse was gone. Just gone. He swore he would never take it and it must have happened before. I couldn’t remember when the last time it was I had it, so, I didn’t accuse him. I did stop bringing my purse in with me. Just my phone and keys. And then, the last “mysterious” vanishing of something was my brand new phone. I freaked the fuck out, and rightfully so. I called and called, I did the locator on it and nothing. He even gave me an excuse to say to my partner. After that, I then avoided him. I am the worst at confrontation and calling someone out. He decided to finally text me and see if I wanted to hang out; I declined and said I was busy. I never heard from him again.

So, in conclusion, don’t trust people. They don’t deserve your trust unless they’ve earned it. When the wind blows, trash comes.

Lessons learned: Don’t keep hanging out with thieves. Or be a fool. Or both, really. Classy men have cars, right? Even if they’re clunkers, they have a car.

Sincerely,
The Daring Vagina

Rings and Things

There comes a time in every Daring Vagina’s life that she finds her heart and another connecting heart. I know I have found my life partner. Everything besides sex is PERFECT. With that being said, let me tell the story of October and November of 2013.

As I mentioned previously, I had missed a very important dinner (with an attentive cat), but there were ulterior motives. Later that month, THE question was popped. Not just a “wanna grab dinner,” but a “wanna grab dinner every night…forever?” I said yes. Why? Because EVERYONE has a fault. Yes, sex is important, but what’s more important sometimes? Credit rating. Not being a drunk. Never doing drugs. Giving me space. Cuddling when I need it, and being my emotional rock. It is hard to talk about, but, I love him immensely; always have, always will. I also know I look super happy when I talk about us; engagement did me well.

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Shabam! Yeah, those 13 miles were fine...the .1 was the bitch

I ran my first half marathon in November; I don’t think I’ve been so exhausted and drunk in Vegas in one weekend before. I mean, I dropped my phone while slightly intoxicated and wanted to put it back together…including the pieces of mini Oreos found on the ground. Uhmm…what? Yeah. I’m a fun drunk. Vegas anyone? November? See you there! For being newly engaged, I behaved myself. I didn’t even pretend to notice men. Not very me, at all.

The minute I became engaged, I swore off all penises. This lasted all of three weeks. THREE. WEEKS. Is this all I can manage? The zombie apocalypse is going to suck major balls if so. But in all sincerity, I did my best to lessen my want of Tony Stark, or any penis for that matter. No texting, posting, replying–it did help I was really busy and tired from my former job too. I even got a new job that I thought would help distract me! No. Not at all. It took three weeks and I was in need of sex.

It was hard to take my ring off the first time. I don’t know if anyone else has ever been in this situation, but, the ring removal…worst feeling ever. It’s gotten better over time (or I would just wear it), but that first time…was weird. My finger had the indent and luckily I had another ring to wear. But I felt I took infidelity to a new level by not wearing my ring. I should own up to my choices, right?

Once December hit, Tony Stark was all types of busy again. As in, super busy. People need to not have social lives that are put above Catherine. When the cat’s away, the mouse writes a whole new type of craigslist posting and attracts all the crazies.

Once I was settled into my new job (December of 2013), I became incredibly bored.

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I was used to 30 tasks on the job and I had one. Just one. What does a bored lady do with all that time? I know! Write an awesome post, keep it in your email drafts for later, and profit! I wanted to be honest; in a relationship, wanting sex, the end. I wasn’t expecting the amount of responses I got; I actually had to delete my own posting I received so many responses. It had been awhile since I posted, that’s for sure. Out of just that one post in December, I received a plethora of men I saw (I’m never satisfied, if you couldn’t tell, but I try very hard…and fail.)

The next series of stories are a lot of…intriguing men. And a lot of awkward moments. And one night stands. Ugh, I hate one night stands.

Sincerely,
The Daring Vagina

Weekend Getaway, or Something Like That

I’ve never been really good at having just meaningless sex; I make friends and take things super personal. Friends do things together, and this is the tale of how I totally had sex in my childhood house with my friend, Tony Stark.

Tony Stark and I were talking about food one time post sex (he made me wait over two hours so he could eat something) and we got on the topic of chicken fried steak. He told me that the best he ever had was at a hole in the wall Mexican restaurant. I told him that that was a bull shit claim; the best was at a seafood restaurant about two miles from my parent’s house. He was legitimately intrigued by the fact of having amazing chicken fried steak in a kick ass seafood restaurant. Well, we had talked about how we love traveling; he really enjoyed road trips, and I just liked not being in the city I currently live in. I casually asked that if possible, would he want to come with me to Houston, spend a weekend on the water and have the best chicken fried steak. He said of course, only to prove me wrong about the chicken.

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We're on a quest for chicken!

I don’t know how the stars aligned, but my mother was gone and I had an excuse to go there for the weekend. Well, I thought we’d leave Friday night (wrong) or early enough to do things Saturday (again, this is the ever forgetful Tony Stark whom can’t manage time.) So, we left after 3, which slightly angered me (more than slightly), but at least he was amazing road trip company! We talked the whole way, played this cow game (you count cows on your side and if you see a cemetery on your opponent’s side, they lose their cows), and had a little bit of car fun. His hands had fun grabbing my thigh, sticking a finger or two inside me and then placing them in my mouth to clean. I’d miss some of the cemeteries, for obvious reasons. When we finally made it to town, we were both in need of food.

I can admit when I was wrong, but I KNOW they had chicken fried steak at this restaurant at one point. Apparently, I was wrong. Tony Stark was craving that for dinner, and lucky for us there was an amazing southern home cooking place I also enjoyed right up the street. We enjoyed a nice dinner together, and I almost forgot that I was only allowed to fuck him.

I showed him the sights, at night so they were all in darkness, but he got the, and this is where I learned I hated baseball…where I threw up when I got sick…and I cried when I didn’t make the basketball team one year, tour. He was genuinely interested in my ridiculous tour. When we got to the house, I gave him the 25 cent tour of the place; I forget how awesome my parent’s house is now that I’m grown up.

Long story short, we wound up in the master bedroom, “sleeping” on the massaging Tempur-Pedic bed.

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Yeah, we had fun moving the head and legs part up.  Well, I did and he let me have my fun. After having sex, I washed off and joined him in bed. There was cuddling until it was time for sleep. I was sad he didn’t cuddle with me, but hey…I need my space, and so did he. He did mention in the morning how I made my awkward noises on my sleep…my bad. I don’t snore; I moan. Like I’m having orgasms. All night long. Every night. I really can’t help it, and it’s my quirk.

I woke up before him the next day and went on a run. Why does this matter? Because I’m a dumb dumb and I locked my keys in my car once I was home. I stood there, looking at my car with the keys on the seat. They were taunting me, fucking assholes. Luckily, my mother is basically a master burglar thanks to inheriting wrecker driver tools, and had the tools needed for me to break into my own car. I felt like a nut case doing that to my own car, but hey…better than calling AAA. I did get to finally use the balloon one to pop my door open enough to jam this long, and skinny thing in to hit the button (that’s what she said.) I’m sure the whole act has a name, but I’m calling it by that long action filled name. Later, Tony Stark had fun poking fun of my clumsiness, and I just glared at him. Rude! Bitches can’t say they’ve never locked their keys in their car before.

Before driving back, I introduced him to my favorite chicken place ever. He was not that impressed (the love for this place is how I judge potential friends and future ex husbands; must love Raising Canes or we’re done before we start.) I lost a little bit of my adoration for him there.

He wanted to actually do something while in town, so I took him to my favorite “date” place, the zoo! Throughout our time there, we acted like two dorks; we saw everything, read everything, and I know I had a blast.

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For a Sunday, it wasn’t terribly crowded, which he took full advantage of. He happily groped me and spanked me when I smarted off to him or we were alone. To be honest, I enjoyed it immensely; I didn’t really want our weekend together to end, even if it was just 24 hours or so together.

When we drove back, his hand resumed it’s roaming spot on my things. He always was such a tease with his long fingers. I’d return the favor; I took pride in how easily I got him hard when we were together. If I would have known I wouldn’t see him again (or anyone for that matter) for over a month, I would have made him fuck me when we got back to his place. I became incredibly busy with work; not a few 10 hour days, but 70+ hours a week, 14 days straight. I was exhausted. The next time we got together was October 15, and it felt like I was a fish on his bed. I hate the feeling of not being active during sex, but I was exhausted. He told me he would try to be more available, but no promises. I said the same. I had already made the conscious decision that I would be leaving my job as soon as possible. When I arrived home after having sex with Tony Stark, my partner had made dinner. Not just any dinner, but a romantic dinner full of leftovers and wine. My partner never drank wine. I was a few hours late, but I had told him I would be. The occasion? Our anniversary was the next day. I didn’t forget, I just wasn’t expecting him to make me dinner that even my cat couldn’t resist smelling.

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She loves the corn

I felt bad, since I was late from having sex with Tony Stark, but the vagina wants what the vagina wants. In the back of my head, I knew there was an ulterior motive for the dinner, but, we will get into that next time.

Sincerely,
The Daring Vagina

It’s Just a Fantasy

Cue Billy Joel!

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Story of my life. Billy knows my soul. My soul!

For awhile, Tony Stark knew about all of my fantasies; not just the tame ones (like a threesome, sex in public), but my darker ones. While I’m quite sure I’m not alone in my fantasy, how it was carried out, was, hilarious to me and I still claim it never happened properly…meaning I still have this unobtainable fantasy. What is this fantasy? Well, this Daring Vagina wants to be raped–but in a controlled setting. With stipulations…during the day because the dark scares her…and someone she knows. Tony Stark said we could do it eventually. This scenario eventually happened one Friday afternoon…

We had been texting about getting together one particular Friday afternoon for a week; I told him to let me know when he’d be available. He told me after 2 but he’d be over before 3. 3:30 and nothing from him. I was snacking out of boredom in a t-shirt and shorts, sans anything underneath. While filling my mouth with chips in front of my fridge, someone tried to open my front door. I figured it was Tony Stark, just trying to sneak in. I wanted to give him the where the fuck have you been look so I started my slow walk over. He knocked, and I closed the fridge before going to the door to open it, bag of chips still being consumed.

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Don't come a knockin' when this gal is a-snackin'!

When I opened the door, chips in my mouth and hand, Tony Stark tried to be forceful with me. After pushing me into the apartment, he pulled my hair, causing my head to lean back drastically. As he threatened me, I asked him to let me put my chips down first. He sighed in my ear and, without letting his grip lessen on my hair, I put my bag down, ate the rest of my chips in my full mouth (I’m classy as fuck), and then looked up at him. “I’m good now, so…” Tony Stark put something up to my neck. I couldn’t quite tell what it was, but it felt like a dull object. I tried to not laugh at the situation as a whole, but my face was contorted as I was suppressing my laughter. He must have noticed because he decided to threaten me with action; he was going to use the object against my throat if I made any noise. It only went downhill from there in seriousness for me.

He ordered me to get on my knees and suck him off. I didn’t feel like I was being forced; he didn’t even put his hands near my face to make me. When he did fuck me, I finally saw what the item was: a dinner knife. A dull dinner knife. I let him carry out my fantasy, but, it was not what I wanted or expected. It was just….so funny and very him. Not long passed before he was ready to cum. After he came on my face, which I hate anyone doing, he asked me how it was and offered to clean my face off for me. We showered together as I told him that it was pretty funny that I had to let my “rapist” in my apartment. At least the chips were still there. A very stern spanking to my right backside followed his rolling eyes. He justified his reasoning for doing it; I usually had left my door open and he could just come in. Casually, I suggested he needed to invest in something more threatening than a dinner knife of all things. We laughed about it, and once we were clean, we cuddled on the bed before we fucked a few more times.

Lessons learned: Fantasies are sometimes better left as a fantasy.
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Sincerely,
The Daring Vagina

Trainspotting Brings Out the Best in Me

Now that I have officially zipped the Perfect Baggage suitcase closed (pun intended), I can focus on what penis (and attached man) has made me the happiest: Tony Stark. As mentioned before, Tony Stark and I were friends; we were not booty calls, we hung out. Sometimes, we hung out and also had sexual relations. Below is one of the interesting and special sexcapades.

During one of our cuddling times post sex, we were talking about movies and the topic of favorite 90s films came up. Well, I have a list of some out there films that he had never even heard of, and then some he had never seen nor heard of. The one that made me playfully tell him I couldn’t have anything to do with his penis again was Trainspotting.

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He had never seen what I consider to be the best drug movie ever. I told him, lucky for you, I not only owned it, but the movie theater we both enjoy was going to be playing it one night. He agreed to come with me if I wore a skirt. I topped that and wore a super fancy and cute pink dress that showed off my boobs. Yay boobs? Yes. Lots of yay.

Because I had been working long and dumb hours, I wore my dress to work. I was nervously asked by multiple coworkers and my chain of command if I had a job interview somewhere else. I guess I did look pretty when I wore make up and a fancy dress. Future interview outfit acquired! Well, I was able to leave work fairly on time, so I went home. I sat around, literally twiddling my thumbs until I could leave. I texted Tony Stark a bit and told him I was about to leave. He told me to leave the panties at home. Joke was on him because I never wear panties with skirts; I ran around so much at work that I wore bike shorts under my dresses so I didn’t rub my thighs raw. It wasn’t like I was lying when I said, you got it 😉, I just had something not pantie related on. Besides, I would totally take them off when I got there….

I got to the theater and easily found him; he’s a giant in a city of short people. He hugged me and then kissed my forehead tenderly. I told him that he would really enjoy naked Ewan McGregor in the movie, and he’d become a drug expert, since it’s so needed in his profession. He told me to stop being a dork and pick seats away from people. I happily obliged him. This theater wasn’t just a normal theater; it was the greatest theater ever, the Alamo Drafthouse! They served yummy food, amazing milkshakes, and so many types of beer…it was ridiculous. Why does this matter? You’ll see, or read.

We ordered food and beer while chatting before the movie started. As I figured, there were lots of empty seats not only near us but in general. People don’t appreciate the awesomeness that is Trainspotting. Once the movie started, Tony Stark took no time in putting his hand up my leg. What did he find? The bike shorts I didn’t take off. He shot me the look. I grimaced, looked to make sure no one was coming near us, or serving food, and quickly and quietly took them off. He resumed his investigation of what was up my skirt and was happily pleased with the result once the shorts were gone.

I had three beers. Three beers and me when I haven’t been drinking often is a bad combination. That, coupled with how wet he made me, was not a superb situation. He would also be ninja like when he saw the waiter coming to check on us; he’d quickly move his fingers out of my pussy and into either his mouth or on to my lips. Though, I didn’t mind that part at all, come to think about it, but I did like the privacy.

After the movie I must have seemed like I needed assistance; he offered to take me to his place so I could sober up. I drunkenly added “on your cock? Let’s do it!” As I stumbled out (he walked just fine), he knew people there. At the theater. Chilling. I left his side to go put my shorts back on. In the bathroom, I not only felt like a mess, I was a mess; I had actually put make up on that was now all awkward, I had gotten my juices down my knee and all over my dress. Taking a deep breath, I did my best to clean myself with my shorts and then stuffed them back in my purse; yeah…my purse smelt like my vagina for awhile. My cats loved that.

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When I came out, Tony Stark was still chatting with his friends. I felt awkward as I walked up next to him; I basically stood behind him like a child until he introduced me to them. He scolded me later with a ruler for not being outgoing and being more socially awkward than normal. They were incredibly nice to me and didn’t seem to judge the fact that I looked like a drunk Vegas girl.

Tony Stark lead me out to his car, carefully I might add since apparently being physically and mentally exhausted makes me drunk at three beers. He drove me back to his place. While in his car, which was a foreign hatchback, I asked if it was alright I met his friends. Reassuringly, he told me that everything was fine; those two friends aren’t into gossip or anything of that nature. I wasn’t concerned about myself, but more that he was ok being seen with me. He gave me a look, and I felt childish for asking that. Other than Batman, I had never met one of my bed buddy’s friends. Ever. Perfect Baggage was infuriated when I asked to once, so I had a bad perception of myself and that it was never allowed. Ever.

Tony Stark and I had sex; nothing ridiculous since we were both slightly tired and I was drunk, and then he took me back to get my car when I was sober. He was nothing but a gentleman, minus the whole fingering me in public part.

Lessons learned: I deserve to be seen in public with people, especially if I’ve had their cock in my mouth. I need to have a bit more self esteem and value myself a bit better.

Sincerely,

The Daring Vagina

This is Why Baggage Sucks…Pt. 3

To read about the previous suckage of Perfect Baggage, you can enjoy them here: This is Why Baggage Sucks…Pt. 1, This is Why Baggage Sucks…Pt. 2

Don’t make Tony Stark wait…
As mentioned in a previous post, I had been running a lot and then walking on top of it (I even got to hear aaaalllll about Perfect Baggage’s problems one time.) Perfect Baggage said he wanted me to come over after work one day and we could go walk. Well, as soon as I walked in, he jumped me like a horny rabbit. I wasn’t expecting it; I knew he was talking if not seeing that woman, but I went with it. It was a fun quickie before our walk. On this said walk, Perfect Douche told me that if we were to “continue to fuck,” we needed to use condoms because she wanted him to if he slept with anyone else. I stopped and almost stumbled mid stride. I was speechless; we literally just had sex and he wanted to tell me this on a park trail. Why bring something like that up so unexpectedly? It was the Mexican restaurant all over again. I couldn’t escape, so I made an immediate u-turn and picked up my pace. He told me to calm down and to stop. Calm? How could I be calm after that statement?
We made it back to his place and I wanted nothing more than to leave. Tony Stark texted me while I was gone and asked if I was free. I texted yes and I would leave soon. Perfect Baggage wanted to talk; obviously I didn’t want to. Perfect Baggage delayed me with his explanations and trying to figure out how we could be friends.

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My thoughts exactly

I didn’t want to be friends then. Just like before, he told me to think about it. This was the last time I slept with him. I would talk to him, we even hung out as friends, but, I couldn’t stand his social inept personality.
So, it took me longer to leave than I wanted. I arrived at Tony Stark’s place and was shown a stopwatch. I had taken 24 minutes longer than I should have. Tony Stark told me to undress and get on the bed on all fours. 24 slaps to my ass later, I don’t know how I sat down but it didn’t matter. Tony Stark let me cuddle up next to him afterwards, stroking my face and then my red ass before kissing my forehead. As much pain as I was in, I would never, ever, be late for him again. Unless I wanted my fill of spankings.  Oh boy, did I love my spankings from Tony Stark!

I didn’t text Perfect Baggage for awhile, and when I did…it was the same crap I didn’t want to deal with. I could be cliche and say, men never change. However, people in general rarely change. We went out to dinner a few months later, and I even mentioned that I was horny being across from him. It was an odd dinner, that’s for sure. We left separately, said we had a good time and when I looked on craigslist for fun, fucking Perfect Baggage was right there. He was still with her but he wanted his fill of fantasy life while she was gone. I was filled with rage that I was cast aside by someone like him. Maybe it was our history together, but for him to also deny it to me (I know your torso like the back of my hands), I was so mad. I’m certain he posted later on for a fuck buddy for during the week, but whatever. I had Tony Stark!

Lessons learned: Do NOT sleep and get into any sort of relationship with someone like Perfect Baggage. He is a terrible friend, and an even worse lover. Well…he had his moments of awesome, but then, no. Shitty personality trumps a lot. I can say that as of now, I haven’t talked to him, shared a silly cat meme or even think of calling him for months. We tried to be friends. He is the WORST friend ever. I’m a better friend than him, and I’m a shitty friend.

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I guess I'm happy we had the good times we did...but eh. Overall bleh.

Sincerely,
The Daring Vagina

This is Why Baggage Sucks…Pt 2

You can read about Part 1 here,This is Why Baggage Sucks…Pt. 1

Hate Sex is Full of Hate and Porn…
Perfect Baggage wanted to come over one Saturday after he went cave diving or something. I told him that he could for awhile. When he got to my place, my cats wanted nothing to do with him and ran away. Cats are smart; they know when people are dicks. Anyways, he wanted to have fun with my toy chest. I have so many toys, and different kinds. My porn collection rivals the big box of porn from 40 year old virgin. 122929Perfect Baggage wanted to use a dildo on me to stretch me out and watch some porn together. Well, my taste in porn is not the same as his (or apparently any other man I sleep with now that I think about it), and he wasn’t as excited by it as I was. Oh well. Also, what is with the fascination of stretching vaginas? I don’t get it…

So, Perfect Baggage and I have always talked while we were fucking. Not just, harder, faster, move that way, but things like, you watch Dexter? Well, while a Sasha Grey scene was playing in the background, Perfect Baggage decided to tell me that he had taken her with him to that God damn cave crap. I lost it. I started hitting his chest while he was fucking me. He “hugged” me while fucking me, telling me to stop struggling and to stop being mad. Don NOT tell a woman how to feel. He told me to cum; what was wrong with him? I told him no while shaking my head. He obviously wasn’t going to stop; I was emotionally done with him right then. After a few minutes, I wanted him off of me; I made my vaginal muscles tighten to mimic an orgasm so he would stop. I pushed him off of me and turned on my side and curled up in a ball. That was the meanest thing someone has ever said to me during sex, or about sex. Who would ever think that was acceptable? Perfect Baggage, that’s who. After he cleaned up, he sat on my bed and put a hand on my shoulder, trying to comfort me by telling me that he didn’t think she wanted a relationship. Because saying that makes it better? I was so upset; I led him to believe I was ok. I wasn’t. Not by a long shot. He left, telling me that he still didn’t think it would work with her and that I shouldn’t let it bother me. What a Perfect Douche.

I turned the porn off and resumed the fetal position. I’m glad I collect stuffed animals (hint hint if you ever want to get me a present 😉 ) because I cuddled the fuck out of an Alice Cooper bear. At this time I was seeing Tony Stark. I texted him to see if he was busy and if I could come over. It was the day he was moving, so, I did get to see him, and he did lift my spirits up. That man has no idea how much of a positive influence he had on my life.

Until next time,

The Daring Vagina