The Confused Ones Are Not Sexy

I was devastated with Tony Stark’s abrupt departure from my life that I was still in denial, and also needing validation. When you feel like I felt, you make dumb decisions. Let me rephrase that: you make ridiculously stupid decisions. I don’t know what really possessed me to agree to text this guy; his age was really young (20), he used faces when he texted constantly (not šŸ˜¦ type, but o.o, which annoy me to death!) and his hair was incredibly long. But hey, Rebound was just a rebound.

Rebound and I texted a bit before he went into work. He invited me to come over after be got off work (at like 9:30 or so), and I didn’t have a reason not to. While waiting, I shaved, looked pretty, the normal routine. He texted me when he was home and I was all ready to go (fun yoga pants and a shirt and sports bra.)

When I arrived, he met me outside, smoking (joy.) He instructed me to pull around to almost the other side of this street. I was slightly confused, but hey, not my place. When I got out of the car, it didn’t take long for me to be like, fuuuucking a this was dumb. While he was tall, white, dirty blonde hair, he smoked (which will make me smell like smoke), and had a really weird voice infliction and sounded like he hadn’t hit puberty yet. These weren’t the deal breakers. Rebound then told me that his name wasn’t “Steve,” it was “Larry.” Side note: I don’t even remember what name he used, he’s written in my little black as “uber confused.”

I understand not wanting to share some personal information, I really do. However, the fun and crazy started pouring out of his mouth like a monsoon as we were walking. Allow me to list:
In a relationship, but his girlfriend doesn’t want sex more than once a week.
Lives with someone that would tell his girlfriend so I have to be quiet and sneak in.
He lived a “very Japanese style lifestyle,” which turned out to be code for he had no furniture.
He also said he was very simple. I feel that was because he worked minimum wage and didn’t have the means to have cool things, like a table.
He had no phone. How did he text me? His computer with a messaging service.

I was there, horny, and was I really going to be singing “Did I Shave My Legs For This” over this crap? At least his penis made up for it.

Rebound was slightly my type; he was pretty tall (over 6 ft), blue eyes, a bit nerdy, skinny with no muscle tone, and light hair. He maybe had all of three chest hairs. He was wearing an oversized hoodie and really baggy shorts that looked like high water pants on a woman. After sneaking into his townhouse (his roommate was totally checked out on the floor staring at a wall. Don’t do drugs, kids), which I didn’t even try to contain the sounds of my flip flops, we were in his room. Mattress was on the floor with mismatched and old sheets, one dingy and tiny pillow, and his laptop was next to the bed with a bowl that had some remaining ramen noodles in it. I had taken a whole lot of steps back in bed buddies. So many.

The whole situation felt awkward; but I was there to just have sex, even if he rambled on about living in California. I had already made the conscious decision that I wasn’t going to see him again, making my whole demeanour change. I was very passive; I just laid on his bed with my hands behind my head. Having no lamps, it was either all the lights or none. I guess you can count the glow from the laptop as a bad substitute for lighting. It took a few awkward moments before he made any move. To save myself the awkwardness of writing about the awkward sex, let me point out some key high and low lights instead.

His dick was long and pretty damn thick. Kid had no idea he had an awesome penis. Yes, he was tall and it was pretty proportionate, but if he hadn’t gone down on me, I wouldn’t have been able to take it as quickly as he was thrusting. Doggy style sex was actually bordering on painful. I’m sure I bled from the pounding.
When he went down on me, which I always appreciate, it was so lackluster. It was like being so excited you’re getting cake, but everything on it is wrong. No icing, some light crap mix, and it’s dry. I’d rather have nothing.
In missionary, his hair was in my face. He didn’t even try to move it out of my face. I don’t think I would have let it bother me so much if it wasn’t greasy and cigarette smelling. Just, for my sake, put your hair in a ponytail if you want to lean over a woman like that.
He was incredibly out of shape. I’m not skinny, but I’m in shape. I can keep going like the energizer bunny. This child had to take so many breaks to just catch his breath, and then smoking. I told him I couldn’t smell like smoke, so he opened the window and failed at trying to make his smoke go out the window.Ā 
He asked me to be on top, which is ok, but he laid there like a log. I moved more than he did when I was on bottom.Ā 
While fucking me, he would ask me if I would come back. I was thrown off the first time he asked and I didn’t respond. The second and third times (and so many more) I just responded with my noncommittal “sure I guess.” I don’t want questions asked during sex unless it is about the sex act at hand. My favorite question/comment ever was: you’d really enjoy having a girl eat you out and a dick in your mouth, wouldn’t you? No. I fucking would not. This was not asked by Rebound, by the way.

When this awkward train came to its final destination, Rebound told me I needed to hurry. I was puzzled; his roommate was already out of it like no one’s business downstairs. Apparently there were more roommates that would be home soon from the job they all worked at (making pizzas like a boss…while high as kites.) I asked for something to clean myself with; he tried to hand me dirty laundry. These pants went straight on up my legs, wetness included. While I was getting dressed, he was going over with me our cover story so I could come over and hang out with all of them. He decided that it should be that I knew him from California, and we’re friends, and since neither of us were single, it would all be ok. I just smiled and said ok. This cluster fuck needed to end immediately.

I showered with scalding hot water when I got home.

It took all of five minutes of me driving home for him to text me to ask if I had fun and when did I want to come over again. For someone that had a girlfriend, this was an unnatural amount of clingy behavior. He texted me a lot, and eventually, I stopped responding or giving excuses. He was a child; age and maturity. The situation wasn’t right for me, and Rebound was nothing more than a rebound.

Lessons learned: don’t look for a fwb right after having one end. It doesn’t go well.

Sincerely,
The Daring Vagina

The End of Tony Stark

Tony Stark and I were legit friends, more so than Perfect Baggage and I ever were. Yet, with how things ended with Tony Stark, I felt worse than how it ended with Perfect Baggage.

Tony and I had gone to see American Hustle one time, after I drank more than normal, and didn’t even talk about sex. We talked about work, family things, and some nerdy things. Obviously all while I was coming off my buzzed high. We didn’t fool around in the theater because there were a lot of people there for a 10pm showing on a Tuesday, but oh well. It was fun being with him. In all honesty, I would have left my partner for him if I thought it would work out (and if he actually liked me that way.)

Tony Stark was beginning to be super busy again; he had a new job since February (I had taken him a picnic lunch in March sometime as well. Pretty fancy, I know.) By April, our time together was dwindling down to every 10 or so days. I was needy; having someone I don’t have to explain my combo to is priceless to me (especially since he discovered it with me.) He was the perfect bed buddy; pillow talk and texting were so much fun, and the sex was amazing. Oh, was the sex amazing for me; it was not a routine; even though we weren’t super position adventurous, I was so happy with the four or so we did.

I was pouting to him through text one day at work; I was super horny and I was having a terrible week. He normally can make time to see me to help me out. However, I pushed more than I should have; he broke it down to me that his life was too chaotic to see me more often and he couldn’t commit to seeing me anymore than he was. That was the last text I got from him. It probably didn’t help that I had accused him, as I always tended to do teasingly, of having someone else. It didn’t matter what I texted him after that, he never responded.

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Catherine is still sad

This was in mid-April. He’s never talked to me since then. He has, however, looked at my snapchats that were shared in the story section. I began to obsess; did he see my cute mirror selfie? No? Oh, he saw the one I posted of my cats…well, that’s cool. I have randomly texted him since then; nothing. Not like every day, but once every two months. I’ve given up now. It’s hard to replace someone like that, especially when it ends so abruptly. I was in shock for about a month. It didn’t help that I need validation that I did nothing wrong and sex helps fill that outlet.

Am I over Tony Stark? No, not really. Did I cry like a little girl when I got home from work? Not really. Was I numb? You betcha. Have I found other men that treat me amazing in bed? Eh…hit or miss. Will I be ok? Yes.

One positive out of this: I started my blog because of what happened. My past relationships weren’t special anymore. At least not then. Having Tony Stark dump me the way he did broke my heart, and not many things associated with love can actually break my heart.

Lesson learned: Does anyone know of someone like Tony Stark? I’d like another one of him. Curly haired too! Otherwise, ending a long term sexual relationship is never pretty.

Sincerely,
The Daring Vagina

Ok Things Come in Big Packages

Muscle Man was a fluke; I didn’t think I’d be his type and when I met him in person, I should have just said nope. Why? There are certain things I need from a man: taller than me, smaller than me frame rise, the use of proper grammar and the English language, and a voice that’s deeper than mine. He was actually only taller than me when he wore shoes and I didn’t. The pic he originally sent was old; his appearance in person was that of an ex-body builder. The definition was there, but the actual muscles in his shoulders and chest were gone. Muscle Man actually used decent grammar, surprisingly! That voice of his…it was raspy, and not appealing when he called me “baby.”

Muscle Man and I texted a lot; well, he texted me a lot. Most of the texts were him telling me what he wanted to do to me, saying he wanted to do “all the dirty things” with me, and asking me if I was still there (I actually had to work sometimes and would go silent.) Muscle Man would ask for pics of me throughout the day, and not the ones of my adorable face. I would oblige to a point. When he would reciprocate, I couldn’t help but be like bleh; I don’t want to know/see that you are sitting on a toilet at work, taking pics of your dick. His dick didn’t look that big either.

When the topic of who’s place came up, he said he could. This took a 180Ā° turn when it came to the day of. He told me we could meet at a parking lot and have fun there. While that sounds fun to some people, not me. I am not comfortable doing anything of the sort without at least knowing the person first. I was furious at him; he originally agreed and then nope, can’t do it. Because I’ve never been with a muscular guy like him (the pic was legit body builder material), I wanted to try at least once so I could tick it off my list. I offered my place as a one time option. He agreed; throughout the rest of the day, he kept pestering me when I would be leaving work so we could meet up. Muscle Man got off about an hour before me, not my fault. I made him wait until I got home. It’s slightly creepy to think someone is watching you when you get home from work.

I had prepared myself; shaved, smelling amazing, and I even freshened up. When he rang my doorbell I was excited; when I opened the door, less so. Muscle Man was shorter than me standing outside the door (there’s a little bit of a step), older than I thought, and I was starting to doubt his commitment to sparkle motion. His blonde hair was a crew cut, and his blue eyes were beady.

When he talked, Catherine became dry; that voice was not my style. Not at all. He had short and prickly facial hair that I started to think would give me an Indian burn if I let him near my pussy too longĀ unsupervised. The conversion was awkward; I didn’t know what to say and he was obviously ready. While he was undressing, I quickly noticed that he wasn’t muscular in the abdomen department. I thought I inwardly sighed, but it may have been outwardly; he quickly told me to get on all fours so he could lick ass. That facial hair felt like I was using a prickly comb on my nether region; it began to become more painful than pleasurable, especially when he decided it would be awesome to rub his face up and down between the two holes.

Muscle Man asked me to turn around, I did and began to teasingly suck on his cock. He instructed me to move my lower body so he could have access to it with his fingers. Again, not that great. He then stoped and told me we should 69. Well sure! So I moved off the bed so he could lay down on it. Once I straddled his face, I began to lean forward. He stopped me; he was muffled, but he told me to sit on his face. Being a novice to this I didn’t know how far to go down, posture, or most importantly: where to put my hands. Muscle Man pulled on my hips so I was forced to fall back onto his face. The prickly feeling was still there and as awkward as the prior time. After about 5 minutes, he tapped out and I was thankful.

Muscle Man never fucked me; he came on my ass after licking me for an unprecedented about of time. He quickly dressed while asking me how often I could have him over. I told him I had to check schedules to see when would be good. He was all smiles as he left. I was more like “:/ ok.” I cleaned my now tender Catherine; if she could have retaliated, I feel she would have. For the first time in a long time, I didn’t even want to make myself orgasm after a sexual rendezvous. It was interesting to say the least.

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You and me both, Catherine

Muscle Man didn’t text me; when I finally texted him three days later, he responded that he was waiting on me to make sure I had fun before texting me. Why? Just ask. Why are there protocols for talking to someone you had no strings attached sex with? I personally don’t care; if you like me or what I did, talk to me and tell me again. If not, say so if I text you. I didn’t care to see him again (my tender vagina didn’t want an assault of prickly facial hair again.) However, I was really horny one day (because I was about to start my period, hooray), and invited him over after work. It was almost exactly the same routine; this time he tried to fist me. When I figured out what he was doing I promptly said, negative, and swatted his hand. He defended his actions by saying I was so wet and he wanted to see if it could happen. Yeah…it can. But not for you!

I didn’t realize he came; he wasn’t loud and I thought he was just trying to figure out what he wanted to do next. When he walked in front of me, I sucked his cock, to which he made me stop (being slightly tender after his orgasm.) I was ok with this; really. He quickly dressed while I lay on the bed, small talking it up. He could never have long sessions with me because he had told his girlfriend/wife that he was at the gym during this time. Someone married a man with this voice? Pretty sure it was the steroid use in his much younger days.

Lesson learned: using men for sexual favors feels just as shitty and pointless when the role is reversed.

Sincerely,

The Daring Vagina

I’m a Tad Busy

Just a smidgen, promise! I have some stories written, but no pictures. I’ve had to deal with moving, a death in the family, and volunteer work getting crazy.
I may post a story without a picture tomorrow if I don’t draw one today. Sorry for the slacking, my amazing readers and commenters! I miss my notifications dearly, I won’t deny it.

Side note: really excited to say I officially ran 20 miles Sunday. Hallelujah!

You’re all fabulous, and thus deserve my fabulous work cheerleader!

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Sooooo happy and peppy!

Sincerely,
The Daring Vagina

Well…Oopsie Daisy

As mentioned briefly in other posts about Tony Stark, I enjoyed calling him daddy. I enjoyed the dominant role that brought. Being the overly sexual person that I am, I needed someone else to hold me over while Tony Stark was busy with life and work. Daddy Don (DD) was an interesting man; while he never told me his age, when I put two and two together I wish I hadn’t. Made the whole daddy thing even more realistic.

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Oh my excitement could not be contained!

I didn’t say I was looking for a “daddy” or anything. When we discussed our likes in the bed, I mentioned that I liked role playing and he asked to what extent, that’s when the whole daddy/little girl aspect came out. He was nowhere near dominant; he was more along the lines of a nurturing and quietĀ  man that really enjoyed being called daddy. Not that I knew his age, but he didn’t look a day over 40. DD had sandy blonde hair, blue eyes, and slightly tanned skin. His smile in the pic he sent….I was speechless and totally smitten.

We only emailed; eventually I gave him my actual email to use. I would send him pics (no face of course) of me, lingerie, and my toys. He wasn’t very descriptive in what he would do, but he did call me a “good little girl” for sharing with him, which hit my sexual buttons in all the right ways. I was ready to meet up with Mr. DD and see how it played out in person. We made a date after work during the week; I was going to meet him at his place (which is super fancy, like…super fancy and rich.) However, Daddy Don was an actual father to an 8 year old boy. While he was divorced, he still had fatherly responsibilities, which I totally respected. On the night we were to get together, he had to cancel unexpectedly, so I was sad, but I did make up for that need by seeing Southern Gent.

When planning another date, within hours of going over, DD mentioned that he was house sitting and we should meet there. I was skeptical and not up for it. Needless to say, I threw a classic Daring Vagina psycho rant at him. This caused him to almost immediately change his tune from going to the house he was house sitting. It creeps me out when people change major details like that on me at the last minute. DD tried to smooth the situation over by suggesting we could just go to his place, that it was just easier for him since he would be staying at the house he was sitting. I calmed down and said it didn’t matter; I just needed a place. I had my toys and lingerie in my car; those poor toys were uber hot when I checked in them before leaving to his place.

So, not only did he live in a fancy place, the house he was watching was also in a fancy place. Hellooooo gated community and my awkward fumbling for the code to give the gate keeper. When I finally got to the house, it was huge. The yard was huge. The windows were huge. The car DD was driving was just beautiful. I felt like Jack from Titanic just chillin all awkward in first class. I looked nice since I got off work, but not that nice. I texted to let him know I was there. I got my bag of toys and purse and headed to the huge entry way. He opened the door and I was not disappointed by his appearance; he had gray slacks, a red button up shirt, and a blue tie; his sleeves were already rolled up. I was going to be putty in his hands.

He offered me a beer, which I gladly took, and we headed upstairs to talk and get comfortable. His voice, while it could come from him, it was so soft spoken and nasally; I wasn’t really expecting it with his personality. I didn’t hate it, but my voice is pretty low, and I felt like I had the deeper voice. We talked and that’s the first clue I had that A. he didn’t realize how “young ” I was and B. how old he was. He doesn’t get quotes around old because, well, he is old. After later deducting skills were used, he was 50. I was 25. I have officially had sex with someone twice my age. But anyways, story! After talking about random super heroes since he has a son and knows these things, I suggested that I change into the lingerie I brought. He encouraged me to also lay out my toys for him to look at. I happily obliged him; I brought a very large dildo, an anal plug, and a butterfly vibrator. When I came out of the bathroom dressed in a cute black and pink teddy, he cooed that I was a naughty little girl. Cue weakness in the knees.

DD enjoyed using my toys on me. So as to not get incredibly vulgar, I will go through a shortened version of toy use. He used a vibrator on my clit first before my dildo, almost chanting how wet I was. While still on the couch, he had me turn around to face the back of the couch so he could play with my anal plug in my ass. With the dildo in my pussy and the plug in my ass, both slightly secured, he walked around to the back side of the couch. He undid his belt and slacks, revealing a little longer than average sized cock. Whenever I give head, I am certain the rest of my sexual muscles tighten. How do I know this? My dildo fell out after I would gag on his cock…every time. So, if anyone would like to confirm or deny that theory for me, let me know.

Each time the dildo fell out, Daddy Don would come around and put it back in. After about the fourth time, he instructed me to stand up so I could move to lean over the arm of the sofa. This is an incredibly uncomfortable position for me; I don’t feel a guy gets in that deep, and my face turns out all red and smooshed into the cushion. But whatever, I love following orders. He left the anal plug in while he fucked me; it didn’t take long with me calling him “daddy” before he came. Quickly he got out from behind me and removed the condom, taking it and the two beers downstairs. I then did something super dooper dumb. Like, the dumbest thing I could I’ve done at that moment. I took the anal plug almost immediately and quickly out. I wasn’t thinking and I got what I deserved for not thinking. I am certain all the color drained from my face when I saw the shit on the toy. I almost ran to the bathroom to clean it and myself.

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Well...shit. Literally.

That’s when I noticed: no toilet paper. There were nice and white towels in the bathtub. Who the fuck lived here!? I started panicking; what do you do when this happens? Obviously, you try your best, right? I cleaned my toy in the sink as much as possible and then I used my panties to clean myself off. I quickly stuffed them all in my bag and zipped it. I was certain he was a one and done kind of guy, anyways. We hugged as I tried my best to not run out of there before he smelled anything.

I finally looked at my phone and saw a text from Tony Stark. Don’t mind if I do go get an orgasm! I told him I needed to go home first and drop things off. I got home and showered the gross off me and left to have another exciting night with Tony Stark.

DD and I had a Skype session once after that. It wasn’t very exciting and I was sick. He tends to be busy and I…I need some constant attention and sex. While I enjoyed sex with him, I won’t bring an anal plug around again.

Lesson learned: think before you pull out.

Sincerely,

The Daring Vagina