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.)

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.


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.

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.


The Daring Vagina

The First Night Alone

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

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

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

But back to the story at hand…

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

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

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


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

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

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

The Daring Vagina

Sin City Part 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

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 make  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