You Might Be Hot, But I Liked the Dogs More

After an already pretty productive week (I had already seen West Point, Fickle Daddy, and Mr Fantastic this week), I was still sexually wanting. My insatiable sex drive needed more of something; more variety, more penis, or more orgasms–just more. This is where House Sitter comes in.

I matched with House Sitter on Tinder and for over a week he would ask me to meet up or come over to the house he was at. These requests would be during the day, right after work, or my favorite time–2am. I am obviously not a huge fan of booty calls, mostly because I am passed out by then and that bed is real comfortable after 10:30 at night. But I digress…When I matched with House Sitter (HS), his pictures made him look about a hard 8, and with his age of 22 I was hesitant if this was going to be a good choice or if I was going to get a “show me ur tits” within 3 messages. What can I say, past experiences can leave a girl leery. HS was very upfront about wanting to meet for what one could only hope and pray was not disappointing sex. Within just a few messages, House Sitter asked for my number so he could share pictures of himself, and that’s when I became the receiver of a beautiful dick pic. When I say beautiful, I mean it looked like it would make Catherine happier than a fat kid on dessert day. With his first invite, House Sitter enticed me with promises of massages. This was incredibly enticing, especially when I know I have the worst back ever. However, life and sleep got in the way.

Meeting up with HS was easier sad than done; I matched with him the Monday and he got straight to the point. I saw Fickle Daddy and Mr Fantastic that following Tuesday and didn’t really need to see three guys in one day, especially since I already had an orgasm with Mr Fantastic. I drug my feet on seeing him in person; this tends to happen when you’re busy with life and already have someone to help with most of your sexual needs. I eventually had free time to see House Sitter on Wednesday afternoon. Before getting ready to head over, I asked him if he had condoms; he did not have any, so I instructed him to go get some (I’m not a condom delivery service.)
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He lived about 20-25 minutes from me, so I figured that plus my lazy way of getting everything together before leaving would be enough time for him to literally drive across the street to get a box of condoms. Boy, was I wrong. When I arrived at this fancy house on a golf course, I was greeted by a shiny and new sports car in the driveway (possibly his since there were clothes in the car and looked like a 2nd year senior’s car), House Sitter, and a great dane sized dog at the door. I was in love–that dog was the sweetest and gave the best big dog kisses ever! There was even a second big dog with which to give my all my love to.  Yet, all I could focus on were the two dogs in the room, not the pretty damn hot younger gentleman that opened the door for me with a toothbrush in his mouth.

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Just House Sitter and his dog

House Sitter was around my height (5’9), dirty blonde hair, blue eyes, and a fit frame. To say he looked like the well tipped bartender of a college town is an understatement. He quickly informed me that he had not gone to buy condoms. I think my expression went from, I LOVE DOGS, to, the fuck is wrong with you, bitch?, real quick. We don’t do sans condoms with a guy that looks like that, ever. That is chlamydia real quick, and I’ve had that enough in my life. I responded to his failure by saying “Well we should go buy those before we start taking any clothes off.” He offered to drive to the store, and I was ready to go. That shiny sports car was made for tiny people with tiny legs. I am tall with big thighs–I did not enjoy the clown car ride to the local pharmacy store to get condoms. Once there, he left me in his car to go procure anti-STD protection. I then texted my safe buddy to let them know where I was and that I could over power HS if needed. When HS returned to the car, he decided to not only flash me the condoms he bought, but also that they had this “fancy” sex oil. He bought the Trojan massage oil; I don’t know how that’s fancy, but it was to him.

Once back to the house, he directed me to the side bedroom he was staying in, away from the adorable dogs sadly. He turned on a side table lamp while I noticed he had thrown a sheet on top of the bed, which he said was because of the dog hair. Immediately House Sitter started to get undressed and asked if I wanted that massage. I quickly responded and said yes and asked how far I had to be undressed for this as he stood in front of me in his boxer briefs. He didn’t respond, so I just stripped down to the panties I had on and laid face down on the bed. HS walked over to where I was on the bed and straddled me with no warning as he poured what felt like half the bottle of oil on my back.

Cold. The oil was so cold and it hit my only ticklish spot–my spine. I flinched and bucked up into him something fierce. He told me to calm down. Don’t tell a woman to calm down when you have her basically pinned down in a strange house with cold liquid running down her back. I assumed the dogs may have saved me in the end, they knew I was their kind. After massaging my back he pulled my panties off not with his hands, not with his feet, no HS went all porn style by removing them with his teeth. How could I tell? He would move them down, kiss me, remove from another side, kiss, and repeat until they were at my knees. While this sounds like it’s leading up to some slippery sex, it led to a lot of massaging of my ass.
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Pushing my cheeks together, spreading them, pushing up, pushing down–it was a nice muscle massage if I needed that.

House Sitter was so quick to put on the condom that if I hadn’t seen it afterwards I would have thought he didn’t use one. He wasn’t into kissing and didn’t want me on my knees for doggy, just laying on the bed so he could fuck me that way. Why didn’t he want me in a better position? Probably so he could fuck me between my actual ass cheeks. I didn’t know if I should tell him that that’s not how sex works, but I just laid there. Eventually he entered inside me; his cock was decent sized, but I couldn’t feel it that well from the angle he used to fuck me. I tried to push my ass up into him as much as possible, but it just wasn’t as exciting as I wished. It didn’t take him that long to change positions; he had me roll over onto my back so he could play with my boobs while on top. Not too long after, he came, rolling off of me and getting up to get a towel for me. I asked if we could cuddle, to which he shrugged it as a yes.

House Sitter was not a fabulous cuddle companion, but at least I got some cuddles before trying to turn him on again. Because I didn’t give him head before the first time, I didn’t notice that he literally dunked his crotch in cologne. The smell of men, in forests, and their big beards was really strong on his trimmed pubes. His cock didn’t make me gag, but the smell did. Unlike other men, I wasn’t down there as long as I would have normally been. The second time was not as long as the first round, but at least I got to feel all of his cock this time around.

Once done, he said he was going to take a shower and I said I would clean up and put clothes on. When he came out of the shower (which was a drug out shower, honestly), he was overly surprised to see me still slowly getting ready. My bad, I had to check my phone and respond to work e-mails. I apologized and said I would be leaving shortly. I grabbed my things, kissed all over the dogs, and went on my merry way.

House Sitter reached out to me a few more times before he went back to school/work/wherever he came from. While I enjoyed it enough, he wasn’t really something more than a one night to me. I was also in Houston pretending to enjoy the company of someone with a tiny penis and a horrible alpha male personality.

Lesson Learned: If your gut ever feels weird, it’s probably going to be weird. Also, dogs make or break things, and if he was staying around and they were his, I would have been around 24/7.

Sincerely,

The Daring Vagina

Sin City Part 2: The Local

The minute I was in Vegas, I was on Tinder like a fat kid on cake–I couldn’t contain my excitement. Swipe swipe here, swipe swipe there…match here, match there and voila! Winner, winner chicken dinner! Well, there was no chicken at dinner, but I like that expression.

I was staying at my favorite casino in the middle of the strip, with easy access to multiple attractions and other casinos. Or, in The Daring Vagina’s mind, so many dicks…not enough time or pick up lines. I had my account configured with a 6 mile radius and I was ready to go! (Vegas trip tip, set it to a mile.) I started swiping the minute my plane landed, then in the cab ride, while waiting to check in at the hotel, and a bit at dinner. I finally matched with a man in his mid 20s; white, about 6′, brown hair and eyes, slight humour, and studying to be a paleontologist. That’s fucking right, he studied dinosaur bones, motherfuckers.

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I really fucking can't get enough. I LOVE dinosaurs!

Before I could meet Dino Guy, I had to shake my weekend company. I had told my mother, who was accompanying me for our fun concert, that I wanted to watch the replay of the Spurs game from earlier. She was tired and happily left me to watch it. I told Dino Guy where I was at my hotel and he eventually arrived.

He finally arrived to an empty sports booking area. We talked while I watched the game. With his slight interest in sports, I figured I could talk World Cup because, you know, if you wear a Manchester United jersey, one might think you like soccer. So, I asked who he was rooting for, and he nonchalantly said he was going to root for Ireland because he’s Irish. Now, I know it’s been almost a year since the World Cup, but, the Irish sure as hell weren’t in it. I just stared blankly at Dino Guy and thought to myself; please don’t let this be a shitty omen, sex gods. After we chatted a bit more, he asked to go up to my room. I replied very me like with, hold up sparky, I have family asleep upstairs.

He didn’t instantly suggest a solution to the problem. Granted, the problem was my fault. You wouldn’t think someone visiting Vegas couldn’t or wouldn’t fuck in their hotel room. For that, I apologize to Dino Guy now. He asked what I thought we should do, to which I said let’s just fuck on a poker table. Dino Guy stared at my awkwardly, he sadly didn’t understand my humor since he glossed over it and suggested going back to his place if I could be quiet. I scoffed at him; he just didn’t know how quiet a girl can be in bed. Challenge accepted. We left the hotel, which anyone that’s been to Vegas knows it’s a lengthy process from any hotel.

We walked to his car which happened to be something out of Clueless–ancient and more of something to laugh at, not actually be a part of. He had to open the door from the inside for me to get in, not because of the locks, but because there was no working outer door handle. I took a deep breath and got in the car. I know that is terrible sounding; I literally got in a car with a stranger and told no one before doing so. Cue the Criminal Minds music. Let me put this into perspective though–if he tried anything, I could easily take him out like yesterday’s recycles. Yeah, he was that skinny and out of shape. While on the drive to his place, I did text my best friend and gave her my GPS location. Yeah, glympse is fucking awesome, by the way, and that’s a free tip you can all take with you.

The car ride there felt really…normal? It didn’t feel like we had literally just met, more of a laid back and comfortable atmosphere. The conversation was great, we didn’t have super awkward moments or anything. Though, in hindsight, I wish we talked about sex before we got to his place. It wasn’t that terrible, but knowing what someone likes and can do is always helpful. Dino Guy, however, did warn me that he had to leave the door open to the bedroom we would be using, and there might be a cat. Again, easy things for me to follow.

His beat up car had no A/C and being in the desert, the windows were down. By the time we got to his place, my hair was a hot mess, and not a sexy hot mess. Right before he opened the door, he reminded me for the millionth time what was up, and I rolled my eyes for the millionth minus one time. Dino Guy opened the door and I crept behind him like a mouse up the dark townhouse staircase. Walking up the stairs, I noticed the open door for his roommate; she was sprawled on the bed face down with her hair all over the place (she must have ridden in his car lately), and pink Christmas lights being used as a night light. And then there was the cat staring me down like I was trouble. Thanks cat, you know what’s up.

The room that was his was jam packed with random crap. The bed itself had just enough room; he started taking his clothes off as he silently motioned for me to do the same. While undressing completely, I placed all of my clothes in a nice pile. Apparently I wasn’t undressing quick enough because Dino Guy started to be handsy on my boobs while I was taking off my jeans and panties. Imagine someone distracting you with touch to their arms when all you want to do is scratch your leg; it felt like that in the most awkward way. He laid on the bed as I followed suit, and then hiz hands were instantly on me. Dino Guy quickly moved my hand to be on his cock while he was almost in a planking position next to me. He used his hands to move my hand up and down his cock as if I didn’t know how to give a hand job. I pulled back and quietly told him “I’m better with–” and was cut off by his sloppy kisses and head shaking.

It didn’t take long before he was reaching for a condom (smart man) and got on top of me. While he was finally realizing I had a vagina and deciding to touch it, he had a knee jerk reaction of pulling back a bit once he felt how wet I was. I rolled my eyes and thought to myself, if only we had the sex talk in the car you wouldn’t try to flatter yourself…anticipation makes me the wettest. Starting in missionary, it was the most lackluster performance I had been a part of in awhile. Maybe comparing him to the man only hours before me was not a smart idea. Dino Guy’s dick was average length and width; there was nothing to write home about. It also didn’t take long before Dino Guy was done. One position, a couple pumps and he was done. He quickly got off me and I just laid there for a minute, trying to realize what to do. Lackluster performance, with a lackluster partner, and with a lackluster penis; I hit the trifecta! Dino Guy started getting dressed hurriedly and quietly. So much for the cleaning off time. I was slow to get up and quietly asked if he had anything to help clean myself off. He gave me some random towel to use that felt incredibly gross on Catherine. Poor vagina, she does get some of the worst. I silently told her I loved her and would never get in a car that didn’t have working door handles ever again…after I got my return ride.

There was a moment of panic when I couldn’t find my bra–the good bra too. It took 5 minutes of searching in the dark and touching things I really wish I hadn’t before finding it. No help from Dino Guy, what a fucking gentleman.

Once dressed, I followed Dino Guy quickly and mouse like down the stairs and into his car. I could still grossly feel that I wasn’t clean enough between my legs and started dreaming about the shower with no real power pressure. The ride back wasn’t as exciting as the one there. Dino Guy wasn’t as talkative and it was the most awkward and painfully long trip back to my hotel. Once back at my hotel, I thanked him (like I do most men that have had a cock in me), and told him to have a good night. As he sped off in his piece of shit car, I smiled to myself. While walking back into the hotel, I pulled my phone out to look at tinder (gotta swipe for that tinder Prince Charming Dick), and noticed that he had already unmatched me. Not even 2 minutes after dropping me off. Dino Guy was swiping and driving! Not safe!

I sighed and then smiled to myself; I had amazing sex with The Joker and then I fucked a future paleontologist–my dream job as a kid. I went to my room with my snoring mother, just thinking how easy it was to find Dino Guy, and it was literally just my first night in Vegas!

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He kinda found one?

Lessons learned: when in Vegas, put your radius to maybe 2 miles, but honestly…who wants a cab ride off the strip? One mile radius for the win!

Sincerely 
The Daring Vagina

Another Year, Another New Trick?

It’s been another year in the life of this Daring Vagina; this blog is basically a year old, I’m about to hit 27, and I have changed and experienced a lot of things that I don’t really know how to write about. Scratch that–I just don’t think I can share how they still make me feel looking back on them.

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This might be happening....Jk, it's only been a couple because I don't need no dick in my mouth right now

Getting older doesn’t make you wiser, but it has helped me realise that where I’ve been isn’t the worst, but it isn’t the best. In the past year I’ve had the worst hangovers imaginable all because I finally started thinking shots were really fun. After gulping them down like a champ, I stand up and I feel those five bitches all the way to my toes that seem a skyscraper’s view away. Worst decisions ever. However, I now know my limits and I can drink all the beer I want. Priceless knowledge? Yes.

Most things are deceiving; jobs, friends, people of the opposite sex, people of the same sex, and parrots. I plan to write about some of these. Eventually. I have a new job, and while I feel I have a lot of time, I don’t, but I know I need to share my exciting/horror stories so I can learn and maybe even get some online therapy. Or better, life lessons. For instance: don’t think that just because someone says “I love you” they’ll mean it tomorrow. Spoiler alert–short term flings rarely mean what they say, or stick around long enough for you to feel that way. It’s basically a delayed start, but you have no idea how far behind you are until the other driver has given up on you. The ones that wait for your slow car to catch up are the ones you want.

For the first time ever I let one of my lipstick case notches read about my conquests…and then I let another. Letting people know you is not the best thing, nor is it the worst. Let’s face it: if you can’t handle half of my internal dialogue on here, you’re going to hate me during election time and I treat primaries like the god damn world cup. (Vote Daring Vagina, cause I’ll make sure birth control tastes like strawberries and that all your lady problems are up to you!)

I’ve become more aware that I am, in fact, an actual adult. When I started out at my first big kid’s job, I was one of the youngest. I had a lot of spark, and imagination. Now that I’m at a new job where my boss is literally someone who got the job by chance and I’m surrounded by barely able to drink college grads, I’m practical and a realist. I make more sense to outsiders than the status quo. Let’s work smarter, not harder, and work together. Team work is amazing; my best orgasms come from teamwork.

And speaking of orgasms…
In the past year I have slept with a doctor, a defense attorney, an assistant district attorney, a city police officer, a constable, a teacher, an athlete (or 3), and my proudest moment: a paleontologist. Mother fucking dinosaur talk post coitus! Be jealous! Also, this lady is never going to worry about going to jail or paying a parking ticket–thanks boo boo muffins in suits and uniforms!

While this is a post sober concert experience (my first in a long time), I needed to share. I miss writing and my little black book is in need of getting names checked off. With that, I hope and will get myself to write more. It’ll happen. And with that, I leave you with:

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Help, I'm a kitty in a box!

Sincerely,
The Daring Vagina

Let’s Go Shopping!

In my previous post, I mentioned I had recently bought condoms. Now, this might be a monthly/weekly/daily occurrence for some of you, but in my 26 years of life, I had never physically bought condoms. One time, working at the famous Beverly Hills boutique known as Target, a man came through my line with the biggest box of condoms and a creepy rape face on while I tried to hide my awkwardly red as my shirt face. That’s as close as I ever really got to buying condoms. When men complained about having to buy them, I assumed they were about 10 dollars for a pack of 5 with all of their complaining. Boy, was I wrong.

Don’t get me wrong, I love condoms; they’re great and I use them, but I had never been the one to provide them. Sexist undertones, I know. A Daring Vagina that didn’t protect herself, not smart. It’s like going to practice for football and not bringing a water bottle because you assume someone else will. I’ve had condoms given to me in college, when ordering sex toys online, and even ex lovers who abandoned them. I’ve always had one if I looked hard enough through my bags and drawers.

Being 26, I still giggled like a 12 year old boy when walking by and staring at the condoms in a store. However, I had to break the habit, because Catherine deserves protection! I took my trusty girlfriend and we went on a condom adventure together!

There are condoms for everyone and every situation. Want something with more lube for your lover’s dried up bits? Got it. Want something not made out of latex? Got it. Think you’re too big for a condom? Don’t worry, I also got that too. Want a variety of colors? Got it. Textures, flavors, length, girth…I knocked those things from the shelf into my basket. That’s when I was like, I wonder how much a pack of 5 will cost me…Did you know condoms ARE SO MUCH CHEAPER THAN A FUCKING BABY!? Why don’t men just buy a pack once a month, it’s cheaper than child support! But anyways, I digress.

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So many condoms.

I’ve used a bunch of these condoms and honestly, I can’t tell you the difference besides the smell. Men have preferences though. Some I’ve been with hated Trojans some hated durex. Does it matter to me if the condom has extra lube? Nope, I come pre-equipped with that shit. Does it matter if the condom has some cold or hot ting going on? Nope, I’m not that sensitive inside my vagina, which is a shame. I will always have condoms on me; in my purse, suitcase, nightstand, etc. However, moral of the story is, if you, as a man, think you only want a certain type of condom, buy it and bring it. Don’t play child support roulette; I don’t really want to have to know a one night stand for 18+ years.

Lesson Learned: buy and carry condoms you prefer, or if you like to have a variety of penises, go on a condom shopping spree!

Sincerely,
The Daring Vagina

The Fun Stayed in Portland…

I enjoy ruining endings; Portland was the biggest letdown sexually. Don’t get me wrong, I loved the beer, scenery, the actual reason I was there (running a wonderful half marathon), and the food. However, there were so many reasons for the sexual letdown. First off, I posted too soon on the list of Craig’s (2 weeks is waaay too soon) and then a second time when the first post responders started falling through. The first time I posted, I thought I found two decent candidates. Negative. Then a week before, I posted another. Did it go well? Led to far out in left field miscommunication with a needy individual. Tinder is always full of flakey men, but it was especially apparent in Portland.

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A. This is so damn true. B. I've been saving this FOR MONTHS.

So, actual trip time! I was going to Portland to run my 7th half marathon of 2014, and why would I not try to have sex? But I digress…

My flight into Portland was the latest departure time, full of delays and almost missed connections. When I finally arrived, it was close to midnight, but before I even left the rental car facility, I had updated my Tinder to say I was in town for the weekend and started the matching process to see if anyone wanted to hook up since my possible Craigslist guy was MIA (a continuing theme for the weekend.) One decent looking man took the bait; we messaged a bit before texting. He was dragging out meeting like an insecure girl on prom night. He wanted to basically just exchange pics. Annoying, so I went to bed. 

Saturday wasn’t any better; I matched and messaged people that were either busy that weekend (thanks for not reading my profile), didn’t respond, or, my favorite, was all willing…until he then wanted to be super pushy about what needed to happen. No, I’m not finding “us” a woman for a third because women here won’t match with your “bro” personality. Then, an almost hook-up came from an Asian (my kryptonite), who then unmatched me. Now, if you’re not used to being unmatched on Tinder and have notifications on, it is reeeeeally confusing when someone unmatches with you. You’re like, well that message isn’t loading. Why is it not loading? Because they are no longer your match. What a tool. I was texting one of the Craigslist men, who then went MIA; always wonderful. The other one, the one that I thought was a sure thing eventually, was at work and NEVER told me he was off. I literally just sat around, twiddling my thumbs like a loser. I eventually gave up by 10pm since I had a half marathon to run the next morning. 

To conserve my battery while running, I logged off Tinder (but not before I swiped right on probably half of Portland), and kept my battery alive for the instagram pic love. After completing the wettest (not because I was turned on) race ever, toes hurting from the up and down hills, I got in my classy rental car and turned on the Tinder. While driving the relatively quick route to my hotel, a previous match responded and I thought I was going to break my Portland Sucks mentality. Nope, he went silent; it was a huge disappointment since he was pretty hot for a 22 year old that probably lacked sexual experience. Le fucking sigh. As almost all hope was lost and I was going to leave the Hipster capital with only a medal and a sore runner’s body, Mr. Portland responded to me. I quickly, and bluntly, replied that I wanted someone to come over and fuck me before I left to catch my plane. He gave me his number and told me to call him. I told him I had literally just finished running a half marathon, I wasn’t going to be uber flexible and he was ok with it. Once at my hotel, I took off my wet and sweaty clothes to reveal the grossest chaffing ever. I sighed and then screamed while in the shower when the water moved my sweat into the chafed raw areas (below my boobs and between my legs.) At least I would push for doggy style so I wouldn’t have to move and could hide my pain from the running pains. When Mr.Portland showed up, I was not disappointed like I might have been if I had been left with the stragglers at closing time in the ugly bar. Mr. Portland was a catch for a last minute. Wearing my traveling yoga pants, a barely containing my boobs sports bra, and an over-sized shirt, I answered Mr. Portland’s knock. He had dark brown “surfer hair,” some facial scruff, light colored eyes, slightly tan for the northwest, and taller than me with a slim frame. He came in as I continued to pack my bags. Chatting a bit to calm the nerves, Mr. Portland was genuinely nice. With that in mind, I was blunt and to the point with him; I told him to lay down on the poorly made bed so I could give him head. Now, I think I should brag a bit since not only was I exhausted from literally running 13+ miles, but he also repeatedly uttered that he “was not expecting [me] to be this good.” Back handed compliment or not, I enjoyed the satisfaction of knowing he wasn’t expecting my awesomeness on that Sunday.

After a bit and a tensing jaw and impending leg cramps, I told him that he should fuck me. He got up, asked me how I wanted to be fucked, and I just stared at him and then nicely said “I’m already in doggy so…” He tried to shrug off the awkwardness I had created while fumbling for a condom with his jeans around his ankles. Mr. Portland’s cock wasn’t small or even average; it was a perfect fit to me. It had some girth and was probably 7 inches. Maybe four strokes in, and then the super awkward question pupped up: Are you on your period? I quickly snapped back, What, no…

Fuck,fuck, fuck,fuck you IUD and the inability to get your schedule together. He completely stopped, got off the bed and I then decided I should fake my disgust of my vagina revolting in my dismissal of her gift that I left unfertilized. I profusely apologized and then said it must have been because he was so big and my IUD wasn’t used to it. He washed himself off, and just when I thought he might peace out, I somehow convinced him to stay. Mr. Portland wasn’t a quick fuck; he took about 10-15 minutes with some rigorous fucking at one point. When he finished, he washed himself off again; I waited, silently yelling at Catherine for being a Grade A Bitch. To my surprise, Mr. Portland didn’t bolt out the hotel door; he told me he had a great time and wished we could have had more time together. And to inflate my ego more, he told me to call him the next time I was in town. I nicely said that I probably won’t ever be back, but maybe. He left, I showered off again, finished packing and left.

While I didn’t have tons, or even an adequate amount of fucking, Portland was at least pretty. The casual hookups tend to be flakes, and I literally couldn’t even–white girl style. I don’t recommend using Portland as a sex vacation if you’re alone; it may not end well.

Lessons learned: Vaginas are bitches and that you didn’t appreciate their gift of an egg. Sorry, I don’t want a mini me right now, Catherine.

So, what happened to the flakes and MIAs? The one that was working, he texted me while I was at the airport and then continued to try and snapchat me. How about, no. I was perturbed, but I also think I would have been disappointed in his skills. How do I know this? By the way he talked about sex. I think he was honestly lonely. The other guy that went MIA an hour before he was to come over, texted me while I was on my way to the airport. He also wanted to continue to be friends. Do I look like a friendly texted to people who went MIA or silent? I had a limited window and you couldn’t even text to say, hey I’m busy? My luck was shit in Portland.

Sincerely,

The Daring Vagina

That First Tinder Moment Together…

My first Tindering experience didn’t take long at all to happen. I downloaded the app really late one Monday night, played around on it Tuesday, and had sex Wednesday.

Tinder Man was probably the best first experience for me with Tinder; he didn’t flake out, he looked like his pics, wasn’t pushy, and wasn’t clingy. He was a couple years older than me, light skinned, and a tad taller than me. We talked a lot on the app (me sending the first message) before moving to texts. When he asked me what I was doing on Tinder, I responded that I was looking for a fwb. He was also doing the same. Score one for me! At least neither of us had high expectations for anything more to come of this; just some friendship with a side of sex. Tinder Man was very polite; I had family in town (thanks birthday ruiners) and couldn’t just run away like I normally could. I actually needed excuses to do things. He didn’t push to come over and have sex, and was ok with waiting until they left.

While texting, Tinder Man asked for more revealing pictures; he tried to be all hush hush and sly about it. If you want to see my boobs, just ask. This isn’t the 1800s; be blunt with me. I have some stock photos of my boobs for a reason (no face included.) Tinder Man had decent texting grammar, which is pretty astonishing; he also helped carry on the conversation. He wasn’t creepy, and he made me as horny as I probably made him (I can describe how I like to give head pretty well.)

Well, it was later that night and I was about to go to the gym when he begged me to come over when I was done. I thought about it; I could just leave the gym early. I clarified that I would be A. sweaty and B. hadn’t shaved in awhile. Tinder Man was more than on-board with that. I left my friend at the gym a bit early and drove over to his apartment. He didn’t live in the worst complex, but it definitely wasn’t somewhere I could live. He was on the third floor; I was nervous and was winded from running 3 miles already, so I probably sounded like an asthma patient when he opened the door.

Tinder Man didn’t have a picture of his face clearly visible; he always had sunglasses on. This…was not a deal breaker more like an “…oh…” moment. Tinder Man had bug eyes; overly large and thick eyelashes. I was a little taken aback by it; maybe it’s a reason he didn’t show a pic of his eyes. I went inside his place. He had just moved there recently; so many things were still in boxes. It didn’t take long for Tinder Man to pin me against the wall as he made out with me. While peeling off my sweat covered clothes, he had difficulty getting my sports bra off. I will give him credit for being a phenomenal kisser; my toes definitely curled.

We made our way to his bedroom. Tinder Man had a grown-up bed with grown-up sheets. If this is how I needed to find men and not boys transitioning into adulthood, I was sold on Tinder. After going down on him for maybe two minutes, he told me to lay on my back. I wasn’t expecting him to go down on me; I literally was just at the gym. He spent a good amount of time with Catherine; I actually felt like I would cum. Then came the actual sex; Tinder Man knew what was up. He had a container of condoms that he just took one off the top, quickly and easily put it on and was inside me like nothing. His penis was around 6 inches and average girth. It did the job.

After being in missionary for too long for me, I asked if we could switch up positions. He asked me to what position. I am not decisive at all; I just laid there, thinking of how to say doggy with my sweaty face buried in your pillows. I eventually suggested doggy, and I’m glad I did. He knew what he was doing back there. Tinder Man grabbed onto my hips and thrusted like there was no tomorrow. I thought he was going to break me. I mean, he made me bleed, but I thought he really was going to bruise me.

When he finished, he brought me a towel to clean up. I was put off that he didn’t offer me a shower first, but whatever, I was about to go take my normal post workout shower. Tinder Man kissed me goodnight as I said we should do that again.

While he agreed that we should do it again, he didn’t respond to my text of wanting to possibly meet up. Oh well. As I I’ve learned, there are so many men on Tinder that are ready to meet up, as long as it’s the date and time they have free.

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Miss Orgasm is taking a backseat to Catherine's happiness

Lesson learned: Tinder isn’t so bad. I don’t recommend it to everyone, but at least my first experience wasn’t the worst.

Sincerely,

The Daring Vagina

Car Sex

Deciding to hit up the postings again, especially since I was incredibly horny on a certain day, I found what could be a possible good time. He was looking for a red headed bbw. Also made a point of saying he could host, also a win. Well, I had red hair if the light hit it correctly and I told him that when I responded to his ad. He was incredibly eager to meet up, like yesterday. We shall call him Car Sex.

Car Sex wanted to text almost immediately; I’m all for texting, but more than four emails being sent out would have made me more comfortable. So I avoided the question for my number, until he then asked again. I gave in and gave it to him; he wanted to talk, not text. I figured why not. I was horny and I had just gotten off work. I told him about my relationship, and he was ok with it. Car Sex had just gotten out of a relationship where he had sex daily and needed a fill. He even talked about her…constantly. He wanted to just meet me at first. But, we all know how that normally winds up. I questioned again that he was ok with hosting; he said he lived with his brother and his brother’s band, but it was fine.

He told me to call when I got close so he could meet me outside. When he answered, he told me he’d come out and meet me. He was already outside smoking when I pulled up. Things I was not aware of and not ok with my hair smelling like. He asked if he could sit in my car, I told him after he finished his cigarette. It was a bit cold and maybe I sounded rude, but I don’t smoke and don’t want my car to smell like cigarettes. I couldn’t really see him, and to be honest, I never had a good picture of him. He didn’t look like his pictures he had posted. He had blonde shaggy hair, tall (6+), and thin. In person he was wearing glasses and I could see an abundance of acne; the pictures he posted didn’t have any. I get the random pimple, but he looked like puberty just hit. Car Sex continually asked me if he looked like his pictures and if he was attractive in person. I was just like, sure, son!

We talked for a bit; he didn’t even have his own room in the house. Do NOT lie to people. Less horny women would have said peace out bitches, but I was horny, and thus I stayed. We wound up moving to his car because he wanted to smoke and I figured what the hell. We talked more and he wanted to take his penis out. Car Sex’s penis was decently sized; it was thicker than average, and just a tad long. He had shaved a few days before and it was an unattractive stubble. While I teased the head of his cock with my fingers, he was pleading with me to get busy in the back of his car. It wasn’t a very tidy car, let alone I just recently had a very “meh” experience in another car. I told him no. He promised me a bed and a bed is what I wanted.

While we were arguing this, his friend that was at the house, needed a ride to work. He asked if I’d come along. I’m sure he thought I would leave if he left me alone; very possible. I told him if come along. I sat in the front seat of his car while his friend got in the back. be introduced me to him as he started to drive him to work. On our way out towards the highway, we passed the gas station his brother worked at. He then proceeded to tell me what else his brother did: sold pot. I don’t really care, except that this felt like a bad long term fucking situation–if we ever fucked. His friend that we were driving to work worked as a bouncer at a strip club. After dropping him off, Car Sex proceeded to tell me about how his friend would bring home a new stripper every night to the house and sneak them in through windows. How classy!

Once back at the house, Car Sex recommended that we could have sex in the back of the band’s explorer (the band he wasn’t a part of and was basically a groupie for.) The back was apparently already made up as a bed. We just weren’t supposed to make it too messy. I warned him prior to coming over that if he was too big, he’d make my iud bleed. He acted like some CIA agent; he was investigating to make sure no one was around and told me to be quiet. I just rolled my eyes; I was in flip flops and he wanted me to be quiet and just somehow climb in the back of a suburban that was connected to one of those tiny trailers. I think I was giving off the, I don’t give a fuck attitude, because I even told him I didn’t want to give him head anymore.
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Car Sex was tall; like, 6’1+ tall. The shitty pillows and blankets in the back of the vehicle made for a terrible bed; getting out of our clothes was hysterical now that I think about it. Car Sex acted like a paranoid drug addict; every noise he heard he would make me stop and he would duck down. The only comfortable and working position was doggy style. Yet, Car Sex wouldn’t go fast enough to climax. I just wanted it to be over by this point. After he finally came, he found a random sock to clean himself off and then tried to clean me off. I jumped away and told him hell no. I don’t want athlete’s foot in my pussy. While searching for clothes, he couldn’t find his own sock and started panicking. I just sat there while he basically threw pillows around. For someone near my age, he really didn’t think things through at all. Not that I always do, but, when it’s my place, I do.

So, I am a clutz; this is nothing new to me or anyone that knows me. Getting out of that damn vehicle was up there in my fears. I had to crawl through the window and find the place to put my flip flop clad foot, and not fall. He needed to smoke again; I told him I was ready to go home and bid him farewell. He texted me the next day to see when he could come see me at my place. I told him it was unlikely and I didn’t feel like having car sex exclusively, or ever again for that matter. And that’s how you get rid of a creeper.

Lessons learned: Don’t be so horny that you sleep with anything. You deserve better than car sex.

Sincerely,
The Daring Vagina