The Modern Boy

I’ve gone through the age spectrum in bed; just because you’re older doesn’t mean you are filled with experience. Young doesn’t mean you have to be taught what sex is. Same goes for looks; most men (and women) that know they’re hot really aren’t that good in bed because they don’t have to be that great. Moral: don’t judge a book by its cover. When it came to The Kid, I was pleasantly surprised–no, he wasn’t some 18 year old troll. I just wanted to have more to draw on than just his age with the book comparison.

Anyways, back to the weekend of stories.

8am came, so did the cable guy. Biggest victory of the weekend! I could watch the World Cup and watch all my bets falter (damn whores, fuck you Asian teams), but I could drink with my cat at 10am! So much success! I was obviously playing on Tinder, swiping all the directions, and making small talk with most of the matches, or waiting for them to reply. Needing and wanting a different group of male specimen, I changed my preferences to include 19-35 and upped the distance. I matched with a lot (more like a ton) of underage drinking boys that still only showed pictures from prom. Prom. I just, I don’t know what I was thinking when I swiped right on most of them. By this time, Tinder had introduced “Moments” to their feature. This allowed you to see how outdated many of these kids pictures were, or how little they cared about their facial hygiene/looks since those pictures were taken. They didn’t start off with real conversations, more like terrible pick up lines they heard from Tosh.0.

The Kid was different.

We had an actual conversation, which happened way less than normal for me (my profile did say I wanted a fwb, but I guess most men think that really means one night stands and wanted to get straight to the point.) Maybe I had been giving college kids a bad wrap up until then? Needless to say, The Kid wasn’t the average Tinder hook up personality wise; he used complete sentences, had ideas, talked about more than sex, and when we did talk about sex it wasn’t weird. So when I had the place to myself, I had no problem asking him to come over.

I’d asked The Kid his physical stats (since Tinder can’t clarify that with pictures (unless you’re real cool with a mug shot), and I’m fairly tall for my city) so I kinda knew what I was expecting when he showed up at my doorstep. The Kid was tall, white, dark blonde/light brown hair, and an average body. For someone that played golf in college, he wasn’t as athletic as I thought, but he wasn’t a defensive lineman either (so that’s something.)


I kinda wish it was Jordan Spieth if we're being honest (it is Monday)

The Kid was quiet. Not awkwardly quiet, but he had no problem with silence. The silence worked for me when we were just sitting back on the bed in the bedroom. He just lounged next to me on the bed, lights off with the tv on. Making the first move is always weird, and it was pretty damn weird with him. The foreplay was nonexistent; I gave him head, he slightly touched my vagina and commented on how I was wet. That was obviously a news flash to me; 900% sure I told him I get really wet,very easily. Getting to the application of a condom was also awkward.


How I felt, without the pre-sex snuggling

While being with The Kid felt normal, sex felt…timid and shy. At least the first time.

Sex was quiet; he didn’t make any real noises and he didn’t cause me to. We had a couple rounds that night, and it was just mediocre sex with small breaks between; nothing fancy to cause me to write home about. His penis was average, in length and girth, and none of my fantasies or fetishes happened. It was just sex. No vibrator (I didn’t want to scare him off, though little did I know he would have been fine with it.) The thing to document is how we did sleep together a couple other times later on, and how I totally developed feelings for him. I’ve since learned from that experience and I’m better at being able to compartmentalize my likes and lustful feelings. If he wasn’t so nice to me outside of sex (I did make him cuddle with me, like I do almost every guy, and he wasn’t that annoyed by it), I probably wouldn’t have seen him again.

But hey, college athlete is ticked off the sucket list!

So once he said he couldn’t cum anymore, The Kid cleaned up, got dressed, and left. I’ll be honest, I wished he had stayed the night so I didn’t sleep alone again, but I was actually ok since I had my cable. Oh tv, how I love you!

Lesson learned: don’t judge a book by its cover, or you’ll be disappointed you did because you either missed out or over hyped yourself. And don’t develop feelings, you damn vagina.

The Daring Vagina

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

When The Cat’s Away…

All types of bad shit happens. Seriously.

I was going to have the apartment to myself from Thursday night through Monday. This was literally the following weekend after Vegas and I was ready. Sooooo ready.

But then things happened.

The Monday after Vegas I came home to one of my two cats not doing the best. I thought he was just having allergies. When my partner came home, he had gotten worse. We decided to take him to an emergency pet hospital, where he passed away. Being the stronger person emotionally, I had to take care of everything, which didn’t bother me at the time. I’m very good at bottling up emotion until I can ugly cry alone.

I cried a lot that weekend, and felt incredibly alone with the cat that disliked me. It wasn’t a good weekend to be alone.

So, that was shit day 1.

The fabulous World Cup was FINALLY happening and I was ready to watch all the games being replayed the first night I was alone. I pushed the “ok” button to start being interactive and that’s when my tv receiver died. Not even 10 minutes after I dropped my partner off at the airport. I called him and his only response was “this is why we can’t have nice things.” A 30 minute call to my cable provider and I had to schedule a worker to come out between 8-12 Saturday morning. Ugh, my life. Thank Zeus I had hbo go on the Xbox. Two full nights of no real tv; I could never be one of those people that only streams tv shows.

As if losing your ability to watch live television is bad, just wait! My week COULD get worse!

That Friday I had a huge meeting/presentation for work. No problem for me; I love hearing the sound of my own voice. However, I wasn’t feeling it after my shitty Monday. That was then exacerbated by my dick of a boss. We all think we have shit bosses, but he gets the ultimate dick award for that week. I didn’t want to come out and say, my fur child just died at the age of 2, and he had no problem letting me ask how he was and then continued on his day without saying more than 5 minutes of conversation with me. This fun behavior continued all week! And boy was my life awesome! By Friday, all hell broke loose. After the meeting, the team went to lunch together, and my lovely boss randomly vanished. I stayed for another 20 or so minutes until the rest of the team decided to go. I offered to drive the two car-less people if they wanted a ride, which they decided they should take. I dropped them both off on my way to the office, and when I went in to drop supplies off and leave, he surprised me by being in our office. Complete silence. He invited others to come get cake, and was awkwardly pleasant to them while being an ass hat to me. I mentioned I was tired and would like to go home early, and that’s when he went psycho. I apparently took too long to get back to the office, and then he called me insensitive for not texting or calling him while I was driving his boss and one of our partners. Needless to say, I was fuming and sat at my desk doing nothing the remainder of Friday afternoon. He tried to say I could still go home, and I sat there, pretending to read some dumb article.

Did I go to his boss? Yes, I certainly did. Did anything really happen to him? Nope. Did he get pissy to the wrong people a few months later? He certainly did. I finally got a new job and within a month of leaving, home boy got demoted to my job. No sympathy.

I had my first legit awkward Tinder moment that weekend. Not, hey aren’t you my cousin, type of awkward, but just a bad experience.

I matched with a guy that wasn’t my type, but I was lonely and still had no tv that Friday night and was ready for some company. We texted and he was going to come over for sex and then leave. Sounds perfect for a guy! When he arrived, I was in my “sleep clothes” of an oversized shirt and sport shorts. Nothing fancy. He was around 6’2″, white, slender, 5 o’clock shadow, and a brown hair buzz cut. He came in and I showed him to the bedroom, making awkward small talk the entire time because I am the most awkward. I asked if he wanted anything, and he said he needed to step outside to make a phone call. No problem to me. I went back into my bedroom and checked my phone, namely tinder and Facebook, and I then totally heard a loud ass truck engine. I just stood there in total disbelief. I quickly walked to my door and looked out my peephole in case it somehow wasn’t him; he wasn’t there. I stood there for the longest two minutes of my life. What did I do? Do I really look that different from my tinder profile? I didn’t think so. Maybe I smelt weird, I had just run. No, I had put perfume on. I was beyond confused; I was hurt, upset, alone, and not in a good place. I would have gone out if it wasn’t already past midnight.

I texted him just one word: really? And I happily never heard from him again.

But all of those shenanigans aside, I met one of my only fuck buddies that has turned into a legit friend that weekend, I ran a 10k in horrible humidity, and I watched the Spurs win. Go Spurs go!

The Daring Vagina

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 3: The Brazilian

I slept wonderfully after having sex with two different men (with wildly different takes on sex), and I started the morning off again on Tinder, swiping my morning away. Though, I must say, it’s a bitch on your phone if you don’t pay for the WiFi while in Vegas; you’re fighting for signal and it takes so much longer to get a location and everything else that comes with Tinder. I had breakfast with my mother and my aunt (she joined us in the morning thanks to shitty flights), and I continued to swipe and message random men. I matched with two men that caught my eye; both were foreigners, and devilishly handsome. Cue the sucket list!

The first one I talked to was The Brazilian. The Brazilian was, obviously, from Brazil. While playing video black jack and poker I chatted with him. Still on my World Cup anticipation high, I asked him about soccer (or futbol) and he went off on how watching it live was an unbelievable experience, especially on the international level. The Brazilian asked if I wanted to meet up, and I obviously was down to fuck my first foreigner; my companions wanted to play some slot machines so I pretended to keep playing and mentioned I was going to watch some sports (it wasn’t football season, so neither knew nor cared about sports.) Once I figured I was in the clear, I headed to the hotel next door since The Brazilian was conveniently staying there.

I had stayed at that hotel twice and each time I regretted it. But, because I was familiar with the layout, I easily found the elevators to his room. I hadn’t been drinking enough apparently; my butterflies were sky rocket high and causing my palms to become sweaty. Taking a deep breath I knocked on his door. I didn’t know what to expect, but when he answered I was more than happy with what I saw.


This isn't him, but basically....yeah. This was basically him. Swooooon

He was all smiles in his striped tank top and shorts when he opened the door. Besides his slightly smaller frame (including height), The Brazilian was perfect physically; he had muscles, black hair, dark eyes, tattoos and beautiful skin that made me look pasty pale. He invited me into his room and I wasn’t impressed with the hotel–just as I expected; it was a full size bed with a 1990s style television. The bed was dwarfed by the sheer amount of empty space on either side, where The Brazilian had his and his roommate’s things scattered (beer, suitcases, some clothing items.) His accent alone made me wet; his English wasn’t astounding, but hot damn was I ready thanks to those dimples and accent.

He asked me to sit on his sloppily made bed (I’m guessing housekeeping hadn’t come by), and it was almost instantaneous that his hands were gently cupping my face as he leaned down to kiss me. His lips then slowly moved to kiss down my neck until he got to my top’s neckline; he then repeated the process going up to the other side of my neck, gently tugging at my ear lobe. I was in heaven, y’all. This southern bell found someone even more southern to woe her. It didn’t take long until he asked if he could remove my top. When I went to do it he shook his head and motioned that I lift my arms straight up. Passionately kissing me as he leaned forward, his hands artfully un-hooked and removed my bra as his mouth moved lower. His light and feather like kisses, and gentle touches set my body on high alert and almost anything he did to me caused goosebumps to spread like wildfire. I obliged his next request to lay down after he whispered it into my ear; I moved to position myself better on the bed. After he removed my shorts and slightly cute panties, he literally made out with my pussy. He nibbled on my clit, he teased my holes, he licked my freshly shaved lips, and he wrapped his arms around my thighs to pull into me.

The Brazilian mumbled something slightly audible into my thigh in between kisses. I asked him what he had said and before answering me, he buried his face into my pussy to suck on my clit then looked up at me to say: I love big women. This is when I normally dry up and stop any sort of romantic involvement; I am way too into myself to let someone tell me that. However, he was fan-fucking-tastic and I wanted to see what else he had up his sleeves. Or more accurately, in his shorts. He started to stealthily take his clothes off, basically becoming a sex ninja. When I saw his penis I wasn’t unimpressed, I just wasn’t super pumped. It was probably average size and a bit over 5 1/2 inches. He was about to put a condom on and I stopped him I’m his tracks as I quickly, but not that gracefully, got up from my back to suck his cock. It didn’t take long before he wanted me to back off. He couldn’t even describe it in English, The Brazilian used Spanish on me. It was pretty damn hot.

I asked how he wanted to fuck me and he responded that he wanted me on my back. He didn’t have the perfect for me cock, but he knew how to pump away at a girl and I was in heaven. The Brazilian repeated into my ear that he loved my fat and that I was bigger. I literally couldn’t handle it mentally, but Catherine was so into it, how could I deny her? It didn’t take long before he came; he kissed me sweetly right before, during, and after he came. He thanked me before I could even thank him. The man was stealing my own material. He kissed down from my lips to my thighs again as he slid off the bed onto his feet. Almost immediately, he started getting dressed, and feeling weird that I was getting kicked out quickly again, I asked to clean myself off quickly. The Brazilian smiled and told me to relax on the bed for a bit. After a few moments of small talk, he told me which towels to use and I did. Have I ever mentioned I hate white towels and bedding? Because I really do. I noticed blood when I was cleaning myself and I paled–I didn’t even look like me when I looked in the mirror. It wasn’t much but enough to make me uncomfortable about my vagina and how much I hate having an IUD.

I shook off the spotting and quickly dressed, fixing my hair in the mirror as we chatted a bit more. The Brazilian was on his way to meet up with his friends farther down the strip; three were filming a fourth that was in the poker tournament over at a fancy casino. I was about to make my grand exit when The Brazilian told me to wait so he could walk down with me. Once we exited the room, he immediately wrapped his arm around my waist. He walked me to the elevator, kissing the top of my head in almost a loving manner. Slightly different than my normal one night stands, but there’s a first time for everything, right? We rode the elevator down like two very happy and almost in love people.

As we walked, slowly I might add, out of the casino, The Brazilian told me about how he planned on going to school in the US to work on his English. I blurted out , Let’s be friends and I’ll help you with your English! Yeah…I’m not awkward or anything. At least he laughed it off, showing off his beautiful smile in the process. I inwardly sighed because I knew we were almost to my hotel. I told him we were at my hotel. He kissed my forehead again as he pulled me in close, his lips moving to mine while his hands moved to gently cup my face. I secretly didn’t want this moment to end; I pulled him close to kiss him one last time.

Before parting ways, I told him to let me know if he wanted to meet up again. As he smiled at me, he told me he would. I later on messaged with him a bit because, honestly, fucking him was downright amazing. He didn’t try to chew my nipples off, which was a first for me. Normally men are all over them, but he wasn’t, especially for liking “bigger girls.” He actually unmatched me after our conversation. I won’t lie, Catherine was super sad, and the Daring Vagina was left with at least one superbly amazing experience.


Yeah, he had a fun name too. Also, I'm "incredible," so screw you guys that say I'm not!

Lessons learned: We all need to fuck Brazilian men who have their shit together. Especially when they know what to do.


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.


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!


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!

The Daring Vagina