Putting the Friend in Friends With Benefits

After that awkward sex Thursday night and a horrible day Friday, I was looking forward to meeting and having drinks with The Runner.

Who is The Runner? Only the coolest man I’ve ever met off Craigslist. 
Spoiler alert: there was no sex, sorry I can’t help you get off this time.


Ain't that the truth, home girl!

Remember when I posted that fucking fabulous post on the list of Craig that brought me Barry Allen? The Runner came from there, along with The Joker. The Runner wanted to meet up first before any sort of sex, so we made a date before this 10k I had on that Friday night and we talked. And talked. And laughed. And didn’t even kiss. Honestly, if we didn’t fuck a month later, he’d be glossed over. However, it’s a year later and we’ve hung out more times as friends than we’ve ever used condoms. Runner and I made FWB work and transition into friends, amazingly enough.

I drank a bottle of wine while he finished the 6 random beers I had left in my fridge. The Runner is about 6’2, 6 pack abs, multiple times divorced with children from a few of those marriages, masters in English literature, black hair, an infectious laugh/smile, and while I never knew nor want to know his age, he completed his master’s degree in 94. And his eldest is 14. Just gonna go with older than my norm, but when he replied he said marathon runner and I was on that like white on rice. His humor was on point with mine; sarcastic, witty, and overall sweet–if he was a ginger he’d be my kryptonite.

He either completely understood or didn’t understand my situation. To that miscommunication I feel guilty about; he met my fiancee a few months later and I introduced him as “my man friend,” which I know my fiancee didn’t catch and The Runner didn’t have the slightest idea. While I promise to talk more about The Runner, I wanted to introduce him because he honestly is the single greatest person to come out of craigslist. When you think of the men before (especially Tony Stark and Perfect Baggage), I’ve had men fall asleep on me, pass my information on to buddies (that also get crazy as fuck baby mamas), and men that can’t portray themselves correctly (height, 20+ year old pictures, etc.) The Runner is a fantastic man, and supports my toy addiction. Granted, we never used them, and I faked orgasms with him, but he had the stamina and needy behavior to match me in bed.

RIP to the future end of an amazing sex parter, but the beginning of a fabulous friendship (running advice included!)

So, back to the story and not dragging on about my feelings.

After I downed my bottle of wine in a 90 minute time frame, The Runner was barely buzzed and after about another two hours of talking, he left me to have dinner with his parents while I was left to get dressed for the absolute worst race of my life up to that moment. I ran my horribly hot, humid, muggy, gross 10k in the Texas heat (cutting about .25 off since I knew the trails way too well), and texted The Runner to tell him how terrible it was. I figured he would be done by then, but I also knew from out weeks of texting that he was an early to bed, early to run man so I waited for a response. Nothing. For days. Actually, about 10 days. When he finally came around, he told me a very believable and accurate story of how a woman he wanted to see full time (which I can and will never offer) popped back into his life. I was thrilled to see him and to see how awesome his runner’s stamina really was.


I also hope this is true. Every damn time I see this sign

After my race, I had the come in and leave me after two minutes man. I went to bed. Alone. With no cable. I guess a girl can get used to cuddles from the cat that dislikes you.

Lesson learned: bitch, I ain’t got none.

The Daring Vagina

The First Night Alone

So, before we jump to any crazy conclusions, I didn’t use that man that much…but I now know how most men do after sex with someone you don’t care for.

After my cable died and my life felt in shambles, there’s only one thing you can do: act like you’re living in the boonies and entertain yourself with sex. I didn’t have anyone that was used to evening times (I even tried Tony Stark, but obviously silence) and then an answer dawned on me: The Boy Scout. For those that don’t remember, he was super young, inexperienced, and had a slight lisp. Just a tad. He was also my height, small frame, and blonde hair with some freckles. I messaged him to see if he was free, to which he replied that he’d be over shortly for some “fun.”

To help reinforce how little I actually liked being with him, he had invited me over a few weeks prior and I acted busy when I was doing nothing but binging Girls. Sorry, not sorry I didn’t want to I’ve feelings for someone.

But back to the story at hand…

The Boy Scout came over freshly showered, and I was in my yoga pants and shirt with nothing underneath. AKA, my normal sex attire. We chatted a bit, but I just honestly wanted to feel I had control over something since my life felt like a terrible car wreck…One such way would be giving a guy an orgasm. The sex was an incredibly lackluster performance from me, and he definitely gave his all. I went down on him for maybe an 10 minutes, which is pretty short for me. He happily went down on me, but I honestly wasn’t even pretending to feel it. He asked if he could fuck me, and I responded with a nod and small smile. Before I swiftly rolled over and assumed my favorite position, I asked if he would put on a condom. He paused and asked if there was a reason why, to which I quickly responded that I had new birth control and wanted to be safe. We all know that wasn’t the reason. The previous time I had told him he didn’t have to, but I learned a bit since then.

It didn’t take long before I came, and he quickly followed. As before, it didn’t take The Boy Scout long to get hard again. He asked if we could do anal; I joked that maybe we could if he brought lube. Apparently, boy scouts really are always prepared because home boy had lube and a change of clothes for different situations in his backpack. No one can fault him for not keeping the boy scout motto for life–always be prepared. I awkwardly laughed it off, and told him not tonight. We fucked again, missionary with my eyes closed tighter than normal. The Boy Scout lasted longer than before, but I still felt meh about it. He asked if I enjoyed it and came; I told him it was good. On most levels it would be good, I just really needed comfort and control, probably not sex.

We laid next to each other while I went to town on how horrible my week was, and he was a nice ear. There was no cuddling, no touching afterwards, and not because he didn’t try, I easily avoided it. He asked about spending the night and I played the whole, I have my morning meeting and wanted some good sleep. I had never seen a man look more like a hurt puppy than I did then. At the time, I didn’t feel bad about it, but later on I really did. 


After a good shower, I went to bed watching Mortal Kombat. It was horrible watching those graphics and a story line I thought were amazing years ago. Whatever, Christopher Lambert, Highlander himself, makes that movie amazing. I didn’t actually pass out until after midnight. So much for going to bed early.

That was the last time I saw The Boy Scout. I didn’t reach out to him like how I normally thank someone, and it wasn’t until months later that he messaged me on Kik to say he was sorry he was so busy lately with school. I didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing other than “that’s ok.”

Lesson learned: when you want company, get company, not a fuck toy.

The Daring Vagina

Sin City Part 1: The Return to Familiarity, or How I Earned My Way to the Airport


Oh hell yes, monster wang!

As mentioned before, I had masterminded an AMAZING craigslist ad but awkward experience that made me feel like I was back in the swing of things. Well, back to familiarity at least. With any posting on craigslist, you receive some losers, some “meh” responses (“R u real?”), winners (able to string thoughts together and responded with what I wanted), and my favorite–the repeat replying men. Sometimes, they’re losers, but sometimes they happen to be people I’ve slept with (I have to admit, it’s happened a few times.) For those that have followed my blog since the beginning, you might remember The Joker. How did he wind up in my bed?…again? He replied to my ad with his picture and a short description (just like the first time) that really is eye catching. I was in a, don’t fuck with me since I’m basically the greatest thing to happen to you in the bedroom, type of mood and responded to his email with:

We’ve fucked before. You stopped texting me. I think I’m good.

He instantly replied to my email and asked if I was me (by name I might add), and I was standoff Daring Vagina for multiple responses, until I remembered that he had amazing stamina, and his cock was pretty fucking phenomenal to boot. Reason or sexual appetite? What is a girl to do? Get back on that cock, obviously. We texted (I still had and also still have his number), and he even mentioned he remembered where I lived–no address needed. I only felt slightly concerned over that fact, but he did come over a few times before, and even I remember how to get to places I’ve been to.

We played tag team on getting together; we had opposite open schedules for the most part (or I would have slept with him and called it a day.) I had taken off early from work for my Vegas trip and told him I had a window to meet up if he was available. The Joker jumped on it; he literally was so excited about it that he beat me to my place. I saw him him in his truck (he owns his own construction company and he’s built like a construction worker) and when I got out of my car I just gave him a look. The look of, are you that impatient and ready to fuck me? He got out of his truck and was all smiles with his amazing green eyes and his, what did I do?, facial expression. I just shook my head and told him my time frame for our rendezvous. He followed me up the stairs and replied with, you better be ready to start the minute the door closes. I stopped, turned to look at him with another look, and he responded by smacking my ass. Yes, I was completely ready to fuck him again.

After closing the door and locking it, The Joker immediately pinned me against the door, creating the feeling of a lust filled moment from a movie. He immediately started to undress me from my work clothes (I’m 95% sure it was slacks and a nice top with a cardigan with nothing remotely sexy underneath) and led me to the bedroom, leaving discarded clothes in our way. Once I was in just a bra and panties, he slowed down, leaving a trail of kisses down the side of my neck, biting at my clavical before picking me up (as well as he could, which was probably the greatest testament to me that I had lost weight) and tossing me on the bed. The Joker continued kissing down my stomach and once he was at the top of my panties, he pulled them off with his teeth. Once they were on the ground, the slow and tenderness of his touch had left, and the eagerness that I always associated with The Joker returned. He pulled me at my hips until I was on the edge of the bed, knealed down and then spread my legs apart as he furiously licked from my clit to my ass. It didn’t take long before I told him I needed to suck his cock; he stood up as I slid off the bed and onto the floor. It was like fitting your feet into your favorite brand of shoes; the taste, texture and feel of his cock in my mouth and in my hands was refreshing and perhaps a perfect fit. He moaned out my name each time I did my best to take his cock down my throat–it was the best type of praise. It didn’t take long before he told me to lay on the bed.

He slowly pushed his whole 8+ cock into me as he nibbled on my ear. I was in ecstasy; he obviously remembered my weaknesses and my wants while under him. The Joker slowly got rougher with his thrusts, pushing my legs farther back. I had no idea I was so flexible until my legs were so far stretched that I had my knees by my ears. It didn’t take long before he came the first time. The Joker always came hard and loud; he grunted as he slammed into me. He slowed down a bit to regain his hard on and asked how I wanted to be fucked. He hadn’t fucked me since I knew my combo to orgasm success. I told him I wanted to be fucked doggy, vibrator on my clit and his thumb in my ass. Grinning from ear to ear, he kissed me like a dying man as he pulled out of me. He easily helped me flip onto all fours (by physically flipping my hips and moving me into the position) while I looked for my vibrator next to my bed. Once found, I placed it between my legs and smiled into the pillow my face was smashed into. After a few good thrusts, he pulled on my hair to lift my face out of the pillow with one hand and his other hand cupped my face, his thumb at my lips. He didn’t have to ask, I instinctively put his thumb in my mouth happily. The Joker took his thumb back, calling me a good girl in the process. Once his thumb started its assault on my eager asshole, my vibrator went to work and it took little to nothing before I came on his cock. At least I have that down. He let out the most masculine grunt as he rammed his cock into me, cumming a second time.

Trying to catch my breath and not look as flushed as I was, I told him I needed a minute. He happily laid down next to me, grinning his adorable smile at me. I smiled back, my hair a complete mess around my face. “Hi,” was all he said, causing me to erupt in laughter. I replied with, Really? Hi? That’s all I get?, which caused him to also laugh. I finally regained movement in my legs, cuddling up to him.

The Joker stroked my body all over, creating goosebumps everywhere that could possibly have one.

I noticed his watch and asked the time. When he told me, I groaned. He gave me a puzzled look, so I told him I needed to call a cab since no one could take me to the airport. Without missing a beat, he replied that he would take me. I quizzically asked if he was sure, to which he replied that if it meant a third time he was very sure.

One more round later and we took a quick shower together; quick wash but no hair. Taking that sex hair on the road! Well, on the air. Once we were both dressed and ready, he carried my suitcase to his truck, opened my door and happily helped me into the truck. We conversed in small talk the whole way there, while he instinctively held my hand when I placed it down. I thanked him again for taking me; he said he was happy to take me. Once we were at the airport he realized he left his sunglasses at my place. Knowing my situation, he asked if it was ok. I shrugged and said I would figure a great excuse if needed. After helping me with my suitcase, he kissed me, and told me to get into trouble and let him know if I had the best sex ever while there.

Lesson learned: sex always gets better with practice.

If only I knew how much amazing sex I’d be having after him…until the next entry…

The Daring Vagina

Side note:
After my trip, I saw him two more times. He literally outlasted me and I had to tell him I couldn’t go anymore. That had never happened before to me. I pride myself on my stamina and he is way more insatiable than me by a long shot. Sadly, like before he vanished without warning. Amazing sex at least. It’s not everyday I find someone that loves to fuck me and has loads more experience than me, and not just in numbers.

Barry Allen; The Return of Familiarity

We all like to return to what we know; Kotter returned to his alma mater, Brett Favre and Michael Jordan decided they weren’t really retired, and politicians like to keep trying for greatness (and failing–good job, Romney.)


How'd I feel about returning to my alma mater too.

I returned to posting on Craigslist for a steady fwb after almost two months of being focused on other avenues (The Tinder.) I was upfront and honest about my situation and what I wanted; honesty gets you what you want or helps end something before disappointment and heartbreak can set in. From this posting, I met two men. One I have an actual friendship with currently, and the was, well, out in a flash.

The Flash was upfront, in a sense, of saying what he wanted; he worked in the oil fields and didn’t mind my situation. Score one for me! Seeming genuine, I had no problem moving to text with him. The Flash wanted to meet up that day since he was going out to work the next day for a week. I was horny enough that I was willing to leave work early and take my chances on him. Leading up to this decision, the Flash and I talked on the phone; his voice was that of a smooth jazz operator, and how could I resist? Describing in detail what he wanted to do to me, I was all but using my vibrator at work.

I left work early, drove home, cleaned my apartment up and waited. I was debating an early orgasm when he texted me that he was there. When I opened the door I was slightly disappointed; he was way thinner than I thought, long dirty blonde hair that was in a ponytail, a douche like goatee, beautiful blue eyes, and was shorter than me. The shorter part doesn’t bother me, except when, you know, they lie about it and you can obviously tell. The Flash reeked of cheap cologne when he came in, making me create a mental note about spraying once he left. In the plastic bag that accompanied him, there was a box of condoms, and two water bottles. He opened one and started drinking it.

Several minutes of small talk later…

We were in my room when he practically lunged at me to kiss me. He was all over me like flies to honey, and I didn’t know how to respond; I reciprocated his kisses, but with less fervor. The Flash told me to strip from the waist down. Was it really going to happen? Was I going to get pampered? He had mentioned he would love to go down on me for HOURS. Not 10 minutes. HOURS. Catherine was not prepared for the attention she was going to receive.

So, for those of you that remember, and to help recap for those that don’t, I get turned on like a light switch. When I’m turned on, I’m also the wettest thing under the sea. The Flash was not mentally prepared for how wet Catherine was, nor was I prepared for the 30 minute long oral assault by his tongue. He had me lay on my back before burying himself between my thighs; his hands gripped around my thighs, his grip tightening when he was going for an emphasis on his oral abilities. I was thoroughly impressed by his ability to make my toes curl. He’d tongue my hole, and then play with my clit with his tongue, and then start over. Catherine had never been so wet and so pampered; it was a dream come true!


Catherine was the happiest, wettest, and most pampered vagina...like an awesome bubble bath.

Apparently, my inability to cum frustrated The Flash; I asked if he’d fuck me, which he obliged to do after finding his condom. The sex wasn’t terrible, it just wasn’t memorable. I had a timer set for when he should leave (he said he didn’t want us to get too carried away), and he got nowhere near that. It was as if sex wasn’t actually his thing and oral was. This whole situation was a foreign concept to me; how could you not want to fuck me? Did I do something wrong? Self doubt all over this mother fucker.

When we switched to doggy, he “came” in maybe 3 minutes. Four minutes we’re really stretching it. I was slightly stunned; I didn’t think he would be that damn quick. He immediately got dressed and didn’t ask for a towel or anything. I quickly put my t-shirt on, dazed by the whole situation unfolding in front of me. Maybe I had done something wrong to cause him to be like, I’m done. After putting his boots on, I almost had to chase him down to escort him out my door. We kissed like awkward junior high kids and as he was walking out the door he leaned back in the door frame to say, “And that’s why they call me the flash.”

He hightailed it out of my place quicker than I could respond. Hopefully the look on my face was enough confusion for him, because I just stood there, in an oversized shirt, watching him skip down my staircase. I texted the Flash a few times after that. When I say “I texted,” I mean that no one responded to my “hey! That was fun! Let’s do it again soon?” texts. I texted him 3 times within a month; nothing overbearing like, “omg, I haven’t heard from you, why aren’t you texting me back, my vagina is crying!” But more along the lines of, “hey, hope all is well!”

I heard nothing back. Ever.

Lesson learned: Rushing into meeting someone will 9/10 times be a one night stand. Be prepared for that.

The Daring Vagina

The Student Has Become the Teacher

Coming off of a rather disappointing trip to Portland, I decided to learn from my experience and improve how this vagina operated. I still used craigslist; I didn’t post two weeks out, I posted about a week out. For the first time ever in a post, I included a picture of me. What was it? Your Daring Vagina, double fisting beer in sunglasses. This let the person responding to my ad hopefully catch on that I was A. real and B. I’m pretty fucking fun. I mean, if given the chance, wouldn’t you want to hang out with me? But I digress…


So, I had a LOT of good responses. As in, I had to actually take my post down there were too many responses. Not only were they good responses, I started wanting to move to San Diego for the plethora of attractive men that were into me sexually. Or maybe the idea of a one night stand made them jump at the idea–the possibility is endless! Within the multitude of replies, I found a handful that I was like, 10/10 would bang, and responded to their response. You might be thinking, why wouldn’t you just reply to one? Here is why you don’t limit yourself when you’re in town for a short time:
1. Flakes. 
2. People have friends and family that live in that city and plans come up. Life happens for you like it happens for them. 
3. Flakes. 
4. They may start out awesome and then turn into a creep with some really out their fetishes that they think a one night stand is ok with. Spoilers! No, it’s not ok to tell me you want me to fist your ass because no one else will. 
5. People get sick. Colds happen all the time. 
6. If you have time to sleep with multiple people and want to, do it. Try to beat your 24 hour record! 
7. And did I mention flakes?

Out of all the possible contenders, one went a bit too kinky for me (I will not fuck you with a strap on), one became ill, and the other I saw. See, if everyone was always this planned, we’d all get laid.

Good Guy Greg (GGG) was down to earth; our correspondence was fun, insightful, and while he wasn’t that sexually experienced (I apparently attract those that want to experience all the kinky things), he was more than into everything I liked. We moved to texting and that’s when I found out he really was the male version of me. While a few years younger and in school, he loved and also collected comic books, wasn’t that experienced (I wasn’t at his age either), a huge pale ale drinker, and physically we were the same height, eye color and hair color and type (super cute curls.) We sent some “classy” nudes as pre-game material and I wasn’t disappointed in GGG’s equipment; maybe not the biggest cock out there, but it had girth and if he somewhat knew how to use it, I’d be happy.

I told GGG my combo and he insisted I bring not only my toys, but my lingerie. Being inexperienced, he also shied at condoms, which confused me at first, but I then went on the best shopping experience ever with my gal pal a week before.

So, moving right along! GGG worked doing fishing tours and I happened to be in town during their peak season (who am I kidding, San Diego has perfect weather and probably has tours all year long), and he didn’t know exactly what time he’d be off that Saturday night. I told him I’d stay up for him even though I had to be up and out the door by 5 the next morning for my race. Armed with that knowledge, I played the Tinder swiping game. Big ol’ bust. The one guy I talked to wanted me to come see him at a bar and blow him…at the bar. I’m sorry, I don’t need another sex in public talk by a police officer before I’m 30.

Being somewhere new to me, I wanted to explore!…but I was also tired. I napped not only because I wanted to be awake for sex, but I had literally just finished my last trip the day before and wanted nothing more than to sleep. Is that too much to ask for? I woke up, had AMAZING Chinese food, came back to my hotel and waited until the time he said he’d be off (8.) I heard nothing. An hour later and I’m just passively watching the Spurs game while teaching myself how to toss playing cards into a hat. By 10 I had almost given up when GGG finally texted me! He said he would be right over, he couldn’t get off early, yada yada yada.

When he got there, I wasn’t surprised at all; I was at ease with him without the beer. Good Guy Greg was probably the sweetest guy I’ve ever met off of craigslist. He had brought a backpack with him; inside was my newly discovered and happy to chug Sierra Nevada, comics that he thought I’d like, and some random things. Like The Boy Scout, he was totally prepared for all that was the Daring Vagina.

We started off slow; he came clean he had only had sex with one other person. If he hadn’t told me, I would have maybe said no more than five. GGG was eager to please and also more flustered than I was about condoms. We wasted probably 3 condoms because he’d get soft because he couldn’t get it on. Ladies and gentlemen, this is when I learned how to put a condom on like a mom and not a lover. Just imagine someone putting a condom on you, very un-sexy and un-ladylike, and that was me.

It didn’t take long for him to cum the first time; we braked for him to catch his breath and get turned on again. It was almost like The Forty Year Old Virgin. Almost. The next time was better, he lasted longer and we even tried my combo! To help turn him on, I changed into one of my lingerie pieces. I had brought a few and had GGG pick one. It didn’t take long seeing me in my black and pink outfit before he was hard and ready to go. He came way too quickly and I was left wanting. Thanks for the muscle spasm game being too strong, Catherine.

As mentioned earlier, I brought toys. A toy I brought was my glass dildo. GGG decided he would love to help me cum by using it on me anally. At first I was skeptical, but honestly, it was fantastic. I wish anal was always that slow, and fabulous, and wonderful! The glass dildo may not have made me cum before, but when I came, it was an amazing feeling. After chatting for a bit again and trying to drink more of the beer, I noticed it was after 1am. I groaned a bit, but this was nothing new to me; sleep a little, run a lot, shower the sweat off, sleep until the maid wakes you up, get on a plane and fly home. 

We decided to have one more round in the shower. Did I mention he was exactly my height? Being my height and skinnier than me, it didn’t really have the ability to help get me into any sort of sexual position in the shower. After 10 minutes of it not working, I suggested we try the floor. It would have worked, if it wasn’t for his rightfully paranoid brain of wanting to use a condom. He became too soft and that was that.

Sadly, he left after that. I showered for real, set my alarm and followed through with my plan. I didn’t set a new personal record in the morning, but I did finish and got a sexy ass farmer’s tan.

Good Guy Greg and I talked after that trip; we texted, sexted, and he told me to hit him up if I was ever close to San Diego. Over the following 6+ months, we stopped texting. And when I say we, I mean he stopped responding to my friendly “hey, how are you, how is that gorgeous weather?” texts. I left San Diego with two new comics, and confidence in my sex appeal and skills.


He was Good Guy Greg, for real.

Lesson learned: Being a teacher and helping someone is sometimes just as fun as having experienced sex.

The Daring Vagina

Oompa Loompa

Over a month of consistent sex with Tony Stark (at least once every 5 days…or so), and I was ecstatic. However, he slipped back into busy mode again. 10 days of no sex was too much. I understood not having sex on Valentine’s day because I had plans, but, I like sex and want it pretty normally. Daily. I decided it was time to post again; hopefully better results too. Also, I felt I needed to test out my orgasm on someone other than Tony Stark. I wasn’t expecting any magical confetti to come out again, but a girl can hope. This is where Oompa Loompa comes in.

When Oompa Loompa replied to my ad, he said he was 5’9, red headed ginger, overweight but working on it, and just moved here from Florida. I found out he was living with family (why did he reply to my ad when I said you HAD to host?…ugh), but would eventually have his own place. He seemed decent enough to invite him over for a weekend morning rendezvous; I was horny and needing a release now that I knew I could. I told Oompa Loompa about my challenge of reaching an orgasm during sex. He said he would do whatever was needed to help me; I was ecstatic. We texted like actual friends; he even used proper grammar while texting. We wound up sending snaps on snapchat, helloooo penises galore! Snapchat: just as unsafe as any other photo sharing app. We even talked on the phone. That is how I found out he had a dwi. I attract winners, yo. Winners that can’t get real jobs because of their records.

Oompa Loompa was aggressive; we started texting on a Thursday evening, and he wanted to get together Saturday. I was hesitant, but we got along really well through texting, and if this was going to be another long term bed buddy, might as well meet up. I hadn’t had someone over since Perfect Baggage and I had some good ol’ fashioned hate sex. Knowing I’d be alone, I did all the prep work needed: blanket on bed, shorts, sports bra and t-shirt, and new batteries in my toy–just incase.

Oompa Loompa arrived on time; I like punctual men. When I opened the door something seemed off; I couldn’t put my finger on it. I led him to my room and then it was in plain view: he was incredibly shorter than me.


Maybe I could see beyond it; I let it slide. Then I saw the left hand and the golden ring. I don’t judge, but two strikes in the lying and covering up department really dampens my mood. Even when we talked, he never bought it up. These two plus the whole, I can’t host thing, left a bad taste in my mouth for wanting to continue after a one night (morning) stand.

There was no kissing; it was so impersonal. It was almost a 180 from how personal the texting was. His cock curved up, was about 6 inches and a bit above average girth. Since I had told him what the special combo was to get me to orgasm, he suggested I get my toy out. Don’t have to tell me twice! Doggy style was exactly what I needed. It didn’t take long before he put a finger in my ass, and it took no time before I came. He commented on the fact that I wasn’t that hard. Bitch, you didn’t have to do shit but sit on your knees. What a dick.


So conflicted.

Oompa Loompa left almost as quickly as he came; it wasn’t super quick, but it was noticeable how fast he was ready to go. He texted me a few days later; I shot him down so quick for the lying. He called me on my bull shit; how could I say the height bothered me when I had sex and obviously came. That’s when I went on a rant about lying. Oompa Loompa said he wouldn’t initially lie; he put 5’8-5’9 as his height. He was 5’6. His face was practically in my boobs! I couldn’t do it. Height is a legit hang up for me. Sorry I’m tall, but I HATE men over 2 inches shorter. If he hadn’t lied, never would have replied to him. He obviously intentionally lied to me; I’m sure he wasn’t really expecting a second time.

Just don’t lie, kids.


The Daring Vagina

Bloody Hell

If you’ve been keeping notes, you notice I have a type. Twenty somethings that kinda don’t have their shit together. While going through the latest batch of Catherine applicants, I realized that I needed to try something new and different. I needed someone over 30 with what seems like their life together. With that in mind, I found this early 30s,gorgeous man in an actual career. We shall call this magnificent creature: Mr. Adult.

Mr. Adult and I emailed and then texted for over two weeks before I met him at a bar. He was quirky (like me), and handsome from the pictures I saw. He was my height or a tad taller (just a tad), blue eyes, brown hair, a slight southern accent, and the best manners. Hell, he even got my dumb craigslist joke. Being a responsible adult, he wanted to meet in public first. I’m ok with that; I should obviously do that more…now that I’m thinking about it. Anyways! Mr. Adult and I decided on a bar to meet at and kill the nerves with liquid courage. Cheap bottle beer for the win!

It was cool out so I wore a sweater (with a bra you could apparently see (my bad, especially since I didn’t notice until way later)), nice black pants and some boots with heels. When I arrived at the bar, I didn’t see him; his pictures weren’t from every angle and I’m bad at discerning people in photos from real life. I was thinking that possibly this one guy by himself was him, but I didn’t know. As I was about to sit down in spot with an observable view of the door, the man I didn’t want to assume was Mr. Adult was in fact him. Heels were not a good choice; I was now a tad taller than him. His picture didn’t do him justice; he was incredibly good looking. Why the hell was he perusing craigslist for a vagina? We had a few beers while the bar became packed. I cannot hear conversations in crowded bars, so when he asked me if I was ready to maybe leave or go somewhere else, I gave him some awkward stare and smile. Yeah, please don’t take me to a crowded bar. Ever. Especially if you want to talk to me.

I followed him back to his place; he definitely was an adult bachelor. He had guitars, baseball paraphernalia and empty liquor bottles surrounding his condo. We each took one more shot of whiskey before sitting on his loveseat to talk. He genuinely was an interesting guy; small family, was going home for the holidays, career focused…not a bad catch for any girl. It took awhile before he made a move on me. He asked to kiss me. I don’t remember ever being asked, may I kiss you?, before. The act itself was very cute and thoughtful. While making out, there was plenty of expertise tongue action to be had. We were both fairly handsy thanks to the whiskey. However, neither of us tried to take the other’s clothes off, or hands under shirts, or trying to undo pants. I know I told him I was shy and not a move maker, so I was hoping he would. I guess he was a follower as well.

Stopping at a mutually beneficial spot, Mr. Adult asked if we should take this to the bedroom. I said of course, just needed to use the bathroom. That’s when I found out I was casually spotting.


Thanks for ruining my sex life, Catherine.

Fuck you Catherine, fuck you so much! It wasn’t even NEAR time for my period, let alone was it agitated from a huge penis. Instead of leaving, like I should have, I was hoping the blood wouldn’t be noticeable. Well, only time would tell. He used the bathroom after me, so it gave me some time to look at his bedroom. Everything was mismatched furniture, but he had a legitimate adult bed. The joys of adult bed buddies! He came out with nothing on and I felt a tad bit over dressed, so I started taking my clothes off. While I was unceremoniously undressing, we continued the small talk until he was naked on the bed next to me.

It didn’t take much of my tongue and lip action for him to be ready. I’m not a fan of lights, but he left a table light on; I guess it’s nice to see. I mean, I did enjoy looking at him. He got on top of me and fucked me at a decent pace for probably 20 minutes before switching positions. Mr. Adult’s cock was long, but not really thick; I felt it but I didn’t really feel it. It wasn’t that great, even with the position switching. After another 10-15 minutes, he said he needed a break. He laid next to me and I casually saw the aftermath of Catherine. I just kept thinking in my head, don’t look at the blood you caused, don’t look at it. He commented on how late it was (after 2), and he was getting a bit tired. I can take a hint; I gave Mr. Adult the option to kick me out, but it wouldn’t feel right with neither of us cumming. He agreed; he switched positions to one on top with my ankles by my ears. It didn’t take too long for him to cum.

I cleaned up, dressed, and decided I didn’t need to put my damn boots on (ugh heels after it’s been raining.) He walked me out since it was a bit of a maze, kissed me good night (or morning), and told me to text him when I got home. It was about 4am when I got home; I texted him that I made it home. Sadly, I never heard from him again. I blame Catherine. Fuck you Catherine and your shitty blood, and shitty timing.

Lesson learned: I hate IUDs. It totally fucked me out of multiple decent, and understanding fwbs. Always tell a guy you might be bleeding; it’s more understandable if you do than if you don’t. Also, I enjoy older men. Or men with their lives together. Mid 30s is a good age for a long term bed buddy. Especially since most aren’t hung up on the fact that I was in a relationship.


Yeah, this is me. My bad.


The Daring Vagina