Sin City Part 4: My First Down Under Man

After I was back at my hotel, I noticed the time and I needed to pick up my race packet for a 5k the following morning. I was giving myself some frat boy high fives–I had met my 3 men in 24 hours record from two Halloweens before. Not many women can say that without being a lady of the night. Honestly, I didn’t think I’d see another man in my 24 hour period, but Tinder in Vegas is just the best jackpot ever!

I had matched with this one Australian earlier and decided to message him back since it had been about 30 minutes because it still takes forever to get in touch and actually meet up. Logistics are key sometimes. While chatting, I found out that he was there with more Aussies and were going to Brazil for the World Cup. Needless to say, I was assuming he was going to be good or at least experienced enough in bed to make me happy.

I took a taxi to the downtown part of Vegas to pick up my running things while he went randomly MIA. I decided to pass the time and walked around, which is where I bought this amazing cup.


Every woman wants the D. Especially in Vegas

All the women want the D anyways! The Aussie and I exchanged numbers and he called to see if I was able to get together, and obviously I was, so I hailed a taxi to the Stratosphere. For those not familiar with Vegas hotels, the Stratosphere is this huge Space Needle of a hotel with amazing views. I was excited to fuck in a new hotel to say the least.

The Aussie said he’d meet me downstairs at the bar, so when I got there I found the location and sat there with my huge pina collada while waiting for this red headed man. When he arrived, I was smitten; ginger, muscles, my height, and wasn’t as awkward as me. We talked for a bit while he kept glancing at his watch. Curiosity and annoyance getting the better of me, I asked why he kept looking at his watch. He responded that his holiday buddies should be out of the room by now. I responded with, that sounds great! He smiled pearly whites at me and asked if I’d like to follow him to the elevators to go to his room. It was a short ride up the elevator, untouched I might add. A quick walk down a corridor and we were at his room.

Surprise, his buddies were there.

No, there wasn’t an orgy that followed. Sorry, that’s for another time.

Probably not. This is me we’re talking about.

His hotel room was almost the complete opposite of The Brazilian’s; small, lots of light, two beds, and men occupying those beds. However, it was the most hazardous looking room with even a blown up kangaroo just chilling in the corner.


I can't make this shit up, readers

After getting to meet all the down under crew, I would have fucked them all, let’s just be honest. Since the three of them weren’t in a hurry to move, we chatted while I awkwardly stood in the corner, debating how to sit on their unmade bed. Talking to them, one of them was from the states and lived “up the road” from me. Heeeeey, possible hometown fuck buddy. They were decent hosts; they asked what I wanted to watch on the television. Which of course meant I had no answer.

It didn’t take that long until the other 3 decided to leave. Once they did, The Aussie and I were laying on the unmade bed next to the window. It didn’t take long before he made his move. Maybe I was just spoiled too recently by the Brazilian, but his make out skills were mediocre. I feel guilty for that comment; when there was a break from kissing, The Aussie let me know I was an amazing kisser. Yay compliments!..sadly I couldn’t reciprocate it. Let me bck up ever so slightly; The Aussie had some major sunburn and thus I was not allowed to touch his back or shoulders. This is why you wear sunscreen before fucking. Needless to say, I wasn’t as demanding or needy in bed with my nails.

The ginger Aussie didn’t have more than an average cock; it was probably 5~ inches and average girth or so. When I went down on him, he again proceeded to compliment me. The Aussie let me know that I had set the bar high for other American women to which I coyly replied that unless he fucked an active porn star, I would be the best out of his trip. Side note: I was in his top 3 from his whole time out of Australia. ‘Merica! The Aussie didn’t focus on my vagina at all. It was a huge let down. I mean, he touched it with his fingers, said I was incredibly wet, and I was just like, I know…thanks captain obvious. Being a safe foreigner (us Americans are probably really dirty, and I don’t want their convict descendent stds either), he brought out a plethora of condoms to choose from. I was in an adult candy store–it was so magical and I had no idea what I wanted to choose. There were flavored ones because obviously I’m going to put his dick back in my mouth just because the condom is on. Obviously. I picked a strawberry flavored one that smelt like cherries and had a pink tint.

The Aussie asked what position I wanted to do, and I instantly replied with doggy. He wasn’t that big or thick, and I wanted to feel like I was being fucked well. Assuming the position, he started slowly and gradually sped up. He didn’t ask for permission before he started pulling my hair and spanking me; it was a nice change of pace, but incredibly unexpected. Apparently saying “porn stars” in random conversation meant we should fuck like them, because the next thing he went for was to put his fingers in my mouth and pulling back. There was a good 10 seconds when I thought about tapping out but he didn’t have a good grip and that’s when his hands moved to my neck. Ladies and gentlemen, this is where the Daring Vagina learned she loves to be choked.


This. This is apparently what makes me happy.

I was so into it I almost didn’t realize that the ginger weasel had stopped fucking me and was about to stick his dick in my ass. I am not graceful, but I easilyand swiftly turned around and told him he better rethink that. He tried to plead with me since he was on holiday and I gave him the best death stare. Needles to say, it wasn’t all rainbows and unicorns after that. He asked to switch positions and have me on top. Begrudgingly, I got on top. To lament over the shitty scene that followed, The Aussie almost immediately got back on top.

It didn’t take that much longer before he came. He asked where he could cum and I said anywhere but near my hair, which got a good laugh. He stopped fucking me, climbed on top of me and told me to open my mouth. I obliged, and had a mouthful of Australian semen. Once he was off of me, I excused myself to see if I had bled anywhere. Surprisingly, no puddles of blood on the bed–victory! I washed myself in the bathroom before he almost shoved me out of the room. What a nice send off.

I made my way back to my hotel and decided Catherine needed a rest, and so did my phone. And this is how The Daring Vagina fucked four men in 24 hours.

Lesson learned: I fucking love to be choked. Preferably by someone that isn’t a complete pussy about it either though.

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.

The Weekend in Sin City


How I imagined sex in Vegas. There was no bathroom sex, which makes my joints happy

So Sin City… A long weekend full of betting, drunkenness, shenanigans, running, a kick ass concert, and a good heaping of sex. I can no longer say that my three men on Halloween was the most sex charged day; the day I left for Vegas and the following 23 hours were the epitome of being a bonafide sex addict. Before I start on each story–because there’s no way I want to write you a novel for my return post–I want to give you foreword. A small foreword, but it’s better than the e-book I would be sharing. The next four stories span a 24ish hour period. While I was in Vegas for longer than that, my sexual experience started before I even left for the airport. A girl has to pre-game, even if it’s sex based.


I pre game sex better than most normally fuckz it's a scientific fact

I am, for a lack of a better response, the experienced Vegas goer; I know what I want to do, I know where I’m eating, and I know how to find a date without trying. In my previous times to Vegas I have been picked up by a man that seemed to embody my favorite sex accent (North Dakota…just let them say “oh god…oh god” in their accent…it is priceless), paid an escort to teach me how to be the best wing woman (and I have used that knowledge for years to pick up men), and I’ve somehow snuck away from my compatriots for multitudes of sex without anyone noticing. I am a decent fibber of sorts.

Here is a nice rundown of what you can expect from your Daring Vagina:
The return of familiarity and how I paid my way to the airport
The local
The Brazilian
My first down under man

Lessons learned: you don’t need alcohol to makeĀ  bad choices–you only need a willing partner and a fun smile.

The Daring Vagina

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 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 Boy Scout

We all have a type we sleep with; my type tends to focus on personality traits over physical (but he has to be smaller than me because only one fatty in the bed, yo.) I really like nerds. This is not new to anyone who knows me. Anytime I sleep with someone that isn’t even slightly a bit nerd, it’s a one and done situation. Even Perfect Baggage had his moments. Sometimes, however, you realize that sleeping with someone that you have things in common with can lead to bad situations. The Boy Scout and I had too much in common that we would have made for a great relationship pairing, but obviously, not my style. This was the first time I was the super bitch.

I met the Boy Scout through Tinder; he was cute but it’s what his about section said that got me–hook, line, and sinker. He was a nerd. Not just in relation to one thing, but comic books, video games, shows…things I really enjoy. We matched and I instantly sent him a message. The Boy Scout was indeed a Boy Scout; one of his pictures was him at one of the hikes on Philmont they have.


I'm sure there was a sex merit badge that needed to be earned

He was about my height, blonde hair, and pale colored eyes and skin with freckles (real nerds don’t have tans.) Conversation wise, he was a complete gentleman; we didn’t talk about sex or what either of us wanted until later. When that did come up, he admitted to wanting to start out slow and see where it goes. I countered that with a, I just want a fuck buddy, which he said he could deal with.

I thought he seemed way too shy to have that much sexual experience; I was right. It took awhile, but he told me he’d only been with three girls. At the time I thought I could handle someone that would have needy tendencies compared to me; in time I found out that I couldn not. It took awhile, but I was able to find time to see him. Since he was living at home, it would be incredibly hard to find a place and time to have sex. He was also in college (he was about 23), which added fun conversation starters when it got quiet. On a random weekday, I had a morning meeting and time between it and heading back to the office, so I told him to meet me at my place.

The Boy Scout was what I expected, but I was disappointed when we met in person. It was just, bleh. However, he did play with my cat, which was an awesome bonus and amusement to me. Boy Scout had a lisp of sorts; I couldn’t put my finger on what exactly what it was when he talked, but it was weird. Standing in my room, we were both awkward. I was in no shape to make a move, and he also was timid (I’d blame the lack of experience he had.) It took awhile, but we finally started the kissing game. He had soft lips and was actually a good kisser. We undressed unceremoniously, he kept his clothes by his huge backpack while I put mine on a chair.

He started off by going down on me; he wanted to stay there indefinitely, but I told him it was my turn. It didn’t take long before we both wanted to start fucking. I had told him about my combo (vibrator on my clit, doggy style, and a finger in my ass), and he was happy to oblige me. The Boy Scout was the first man from tinder to make me cum, and I was ecstatic. It didn’t take him too long to cum either. It was a Christmas miracle! Well, Christmas in June miracle!

We laid next to each other, just casually talking before I was like, yeah I gotta go to work. I told him I couldn’t make promises on availability but we could play it by ear. He was all good with that. I offered him things to drink; he had a room temperature diet coke on him that he decided to drink instead. I can’t trust non-Europeans that drink soda without ice or being cold. I mean, gas station cold soda is better. Oh well. The Boy Scout invited me over when his parents were gone, but I straight up said no. I just couldn’t do it. He was too immature to me and for me.

We did meet up one more time, but that story in itself is a doozy.

Lessons learned: your taste in men evolves just like your taste in food. I can’t sleep with men that mitt be dating material on a regular basis. I keep learning that lesson fairly regularly.

The Daring Vagina

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.

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.


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.


The Daring Vagina