Just Because You’re the “Cool One” to Your Friends…

…It doesn’t mean you can lack hygiene, social skills, and wear a fedora on a date. These are the unacceptable things that Poor Hygiene had in store for me during my fun weekend.


Just Poor Hygiene being him

As with everyone that weekend, I met Poor Hygiene (PH) on tinder. We chatted it up, and after losing and getting my internet back, having a guy walk out on me, my “oh shit this is bad” sensors were a bit lower than normal. Instead of a normal hook up where we just meet at someone’s house, PH wanted to go on an actual date. You know, where you hangout and talk about things you may or may not have in common. Where was this date going to commence at?

Fucking mini golf.

Not just any mini golf. This place was indoors with backlights. I didn’t know this, so when I walked inside the place, I was super bright. Thanks off white top. I texted Poor Hygiene to let him know I was there. That’s when I saw him in his average self: PH was my height (5’8 or so), some extra weight (not fluffy, but not skinny…so dad bod), brown hair that needed attention, about 23, and brown eyes. He was wearing jeans and a button up plaid shirt. Again, average beyond average.

When we went inside, I was greeted by no one being there. At least there were no witnesses to this. I casually knew, and also forgot, that it was the basketball playoffs, and I lived in a basketball city. PH didn’t buy, nor offer to buy, my admission. Not a deal breaker, just not gentleman like.

When we did play, he was a pompous ass. Some of my favorite phrases from him:
“I can get a hole in one;” nine strokes later, his ball went in.
“Oh, you need to hit like me to do better,” even though I was doing just fine.
I’m pretty confident in my life and mini golf skills, but this date topped the cake. Again, if I wasn’t having such low self esteem, I would have just left and had no story to tell. 

When we did talk, he was more self absorbed than a drunk sorority girl. “I’m so well known at cons by my cowboy hate;” I just rolled my eyes to his back. “I convinced this super important ‘My Little Ponies’ guy to come, so I get special treatment;” and again, that’s cool if I enjoyed that fandom. But I don’t. Every time I tried to chime in, I was shut down by him bragging about himself. Also, he happily admitted to being a Brony. At this time in my life, I had no idea what a Brony was, or why I should have ran. But, this is a Brony:


Men that love My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic a tad too much

He then let me know he took friends as furries to play mini golf there the weekend before.

He was also a furry. I may have fucked a furry who wasn’t in his furry attire. Let me just reiterate that I was in a bad place.

Author’s note: a furry is someone that is interested in fictional anthropomorphic animal characters with human personalities and characteristics. So, they dress up as animals.

When we were near each other, I kept smelling something off. At first, I thought it was the actual place. But I started noticing it more right after he talked. I didn’t think anything of it until he kissed me out if the blue. That taste lingered on my poor lips from the assault of his tongue. I don’t think my face could hide my disgust from him, but he didn’t seem to notice it.

Once we finished this not completely terrible golf date, PH asked if I would like to grab a drink. I thought he meant alcohol. Nope, he meant overpriced coffee. I followed Poor Hygiene to a Starbucks where we talked more. I mentioned I should leave to go watch Game of Thrones with my cat. Before I could bolt out of there, he invited himself to come watch with me. I told him I didn’t have real furniture and my place was a mess. PH didn’t care; he decided to follow me back to my place.

We awkwardly watched Game of Thrones on my bed. No touching because you don’t fuck with GoT. After it was over, Poor Hygiene went in for a kiss again. I casually dodged that kiss. This is when he mumbled into my ear something along the line that “this is why I always have condoms.” I felt Catherine dry up a tad to that comment, which left me feeling numb. Before I could react appropriately, he started undressing me and himself. I lounged on my bed as he finished taking off his ten layers of clothes (not appropriate for summer, by the way); when he leant forward to kiss me, I dodged his lips again. To continue the dodging of bad breath, I moved down his body to his cock. It was nothing to write home about. Just like him, it was average, even a tad thinner in girth than average.

It didn’t take long before my mouth was too much for him. PH not only moaned, but gave commentary over how it felt. This wasn’t just, oh that feels great, it was more along the lines of, oh I love how the tip of your tongue touched the right underside of my cock near my balls. It was everything I could do to not laugh. Let’s be honest, I love being told I’m doing well, but his additional remarks made me laugh. A lot. When he was close, he literally tapped my head to stop. PH said it was his turn; I was excited because maybe he’d be great at oral. I laid back on the pillows and waited, and then I felt fingers. Fumbling around fingers that were hitting nothing important. I sighed, rolled my eyes, and forced a smile before asking him if he’d like to fuck me.

That was a long three minutes. He didn’t want to do doggy, he didn’t want me on top, he only wanted missionary. That was painstakingly awful. I immediately showered and dressed, hoping he’d get the hint. He did. Once he left I sat on my bed and contemplated my life decisions. They weren’t that great.


Outlook after this incident

Two days later, Poor Hygiene texted me to let me know he was sick with strep and I should get checked. My response to him was just “okie dokie.” That’s it; that was going to be our last encounter. However, the fates hate me. I went to a convention a few months later and saw him. In his oversized cowboy hat and Brony shirt, leading a group of people to celebrity autographs. So he was a volunteer. Almost a year later I saw him again, this time I was working a booth for work and he saw me and tried so hard to run by. By this time in my life, I finally was more sad for him that he was just so bad in bed. And that he was wearing a fedora.

Lesson learned: when someone admits to being a brony, wearing a fedora, or being a furry, just run. Run away.

The Daring Vagina

Weekend Getaway, or Something Like That

I’ve never been really good at having just meaningless sex; I make friends and take things super personal. Friends do things together, and this is the tale of how I totally had sex in my childhood house with my friend, Tony Stark.

Tony Stark and I were talking about food one time post sex (he made me wait over two hours so he could eat something) and we got on the topic of chicken fried steak. He told me that the best he ever had was at a hole in the wall Mexican restaurant. I told him that that was a bull shit claim; the best was at a seafood restaurant about two miles from my parent’s house. He was legitimately intrigued by the fact of having amazing chicken fried steak in a kick ass seafood restaurant. Well, we had talked about how we love traveling; he really enjoyed road trips, and I just liked not being in the city I currently live in. I casually asked that if possible, would he want to come with me to Houston, spend a weekend on the water and have the best chicken fried steak. He said of course, only to prove me wrong about the chicken.


We're on a quest for chicken!

I don’t know how the stars aligned, but my mother was gone and I had an excuse to go there for the weekend. Well, I thought we’d leave Friday night (wrong) or early enough to do things Saturday (again, this is the ever forgetful Tony Stark whom can’t manage time.) So, we left after 3, which slightly angered me (more than slightly), but at least he was amazing road trip company! We talked the whole way, played this cow game (you count cows on your side and if you see a cemetery on your opponent’s side, they lose their cows), and had a little bit of car fun. His hands had fun grabbing my thigh, sticking a finger or two inside me and then placing them in my mouth to clean. I’d miss some of the cemeteries, for obvious reasons. When we finally made it to town, we were both in need of food.

I can admit when I was wrong, but I KNOW they had chicken fried steak at this restaurant at one point. Apparently, I was wrong. Tony Stark was craving that for dinner, and lucky for us there was an amazing southern home cooking place I also enjoyed right up the street. We enjoyed a nice dinner together, and I almost forgot that I was only allowed to fuck him.

I showed him the sights, at night so they were all in darkness, but he got the, and this is where I learned I hated baseball…where I threw up when I got sick…and I cried when I didn’t make the basketball team one year, tour. He was genuinely interested in my ridiculous tour. When we got to the house, I gave him the 25 cent tour of the place; I forget how awesome my parent’s house is now that I’m grown up.

Long story short, we wound up in the master bedroom, “sleeping” on the massaging Tempur-Pedic bed.


Yeah, we had fun moving the head and legs part up.  Well, I did and he let me have my fun. After having sex, I washed off and joined him in bed. There was cuddling until it was time for sleep. I was sad he didn’t cuddle with me, but hey…I need my space, and so did he. He did mention in the morning how I made my awkward noises on my sleep…my bad. I don’t snore; I moan. Like I’m having orgasms. All night long. Every night. I really can’t help it, and it’s my quirk.

I woke up before him the next day and went on a run. Why does this matter? Because I’m a dumb dumb and I locked my keys in my car once I was home. I stood there, looking at my car with the keys on the seat. They were taunting me, fucking assholes. Luckily, my mother is basically a master burglar thanks to inheriting wrecker driver tools, and had the tools needed for me to break into my own car. I felt like a nut case doing that to my own car, but hey…better than calling AAA. I did get to finally use the balloon one to pop my door open enough to jam this long, and skinny thing in to hit the button (that’s what she said.) I’m sure the whole act has a name, but I’m calling it by that long action filled name. Later, Tony Stark had fun poking fun of my clumsiness, and I just glared at him. Rude! Bitches can’t say they’ve never locked their keys in their car before.

Before driving back, I introduced him to my favorite chicken place ever. He was not that impressed (the love for this place is how I judge potential friends and future ex husbands; must love Raising Canes or we’re done before we start.) I lost a little bit of my adoration for him there.

He wanted to actually do something while in town, so I took him to my favorite “date” place, the zoo! Throughout our time there, we acted like two dorks; we saw everything, read everything, and I know I had a blast.


For a Sunday, it wasn’t terribly crowded, which he took full advantage of. He happily groped me and spanked me when I smarted off to him or we were alone. To be honest, I enjoyed it immensely; I didn’t really want our weekend together to end, even if it was just 24 hours or so together.

When we drove back, his hand resumed it’s roaming spot on my things. He always was such a tease with his long fingers. I’d return the favor; I took pride in how easily I got him hard when we were together. If I would have known I wouldn’t see him again (or anyone for that matter) for over a month, I would have made him fuck me when we got back to his place. I became incredibly busy with work; not a few 10 hour days, but 70+ hours a week, 14 days straight. I was exhausted. The next time we got together was October 15, and it felt like I was a fish on his bed. I hate the feeling of not being active during sex, but I was exhausted. He told me he would try to be more available, but no promises. I said the same. I had already made the conscious decision that I would be leaving my job as soon as possible. When I arrived home after having sex with Tony Stark, my partner had made dinner. Not just any dinner, but a romantic dinner full of leftovers and wine. My partner never drank wine. I was a few hours late, but I had told him I would be. The occasion? Our anniversary was the next day. I didn’t forget, I just wasn’t expecting him to make me dinner that even my cat couldn’t resist smelling.


She loves the corn

I felt bad, since I was late from having sex with Tony Stark, but the vagina wants what the vagina wants. In the back of my head, I knew there was an ulterior motive for the dinner, but, we will get into that next time.

The Daring Vagina

It’s Just a Fantasy

Cue Billy Joel!


Story of my life. Billy knows my soul. My soul!

For awhile, Tony Stark knew about all of my fantasies; not just the tame ones (like a threesome, sex in public), but my darker ones. While I’m quite sure I’m not alone in my fantasy, how it was carried out, was, hilarious to me and I still claim it never happened properly…meaning I still have this unobtainable fantasy. What is this fantasy? Well, this Daring Vagina wants to be raped–but in a controlled setting. With stipulations…during the day because the dark scares her…and someone she knows. Tony Stark said we could do it eventually. This scenario eventually happened one Friday afternoon…

We had been texting about getting together one particular Friday afternoon for a week; I told him to let me know when he’d be available. He told me after 2 but he’d be over before 3. 3:30 and nothing from him. I was snacking out of boredom in a t-shirt and shorts, sans anything underneath. While filling my mouth with chips in front of my fridge, someone tried to open my front door. I figured it was Tony Stark, just trying to sneak in. I wanted to give him the where the fuck have you been look so I started my slow walk over. He knocked, and I closed the fridge before going to the door to open it, bag of chips still being consumed.


Don't come a knockin' when this gal is a-snackin'!

When I opened the door, chips in my mouth and hand, Tony Stark tried to be forceful with me. After pushing me into the apartment, he pulled my hair, causing my head to lean back drastically. As he threatened me, I asked him to let me put my chips down first. He sighed in my ear and, without letting his grip lessen on my hair, I put my bag down, ate the rest of my chips in my full mouth (I’m classy as fuck), and then looked up at him. “I’m good now, so…” Tony Stark put something up to my neck. I couldn’t quite tell what it was, but it felt like a dull object. I tried to not laugh at the situation as a whole, but my face was contorted as I was suppressing my laughter. He must have noticed because he decided to threaten me with action; he was going to use the object against my throat if I made any noise. It only went downhill from there in seriousness for me.

He ordered me to get on my knees and suck him off. I didn’t feel like I was being forced; he didn’t even put his hands near my face to make me. When he did fuck me, I finally saw what the item was: a dinner knife. A dull dinner knife. I let him carry out my fantasy, but, it was not what I wanted or expected. It was just….so funny and very him. Not long passed before he was ready to cum. After he came on my face, which I hate anyone doing, he asked me how it was and offered to clean my face off for me. We showered together as I told him that it was pretty funny that I had to let my “rapist” in my apartment. At least the chips were still there. A very stern spanking to my right backside followed his rolling eyes. He justified his reasoning for doing it; I usually had left my door open and he could just come in. Casually, I suggested he needed to invest in something more threatening than a dinner knife of all things. We laughed about it, and once we were clean, we cuddled on the bed before we fucked a few more times.

Lessons learned: Fantasies are sometimes better left as a fantasy.

The Daring Vagina

How Many Ways Can We Fuck, Let Me Count The Ways…

Tony Stark and I had amazing sex together; he let me carry out my fantasies (even the really dark one), explore new sexual avenues, and I was able to be me in bed. What is the real me? I am needy, demanding, and I want things my way. While I would get all of that, he would put me in my place for being bratty. Would I purposely be bratty to be warranted spankings? Uhmm, yes. Did I pout if he didn’t fuck me after spanking me and making me incredibly wet? Of course.

Pillow Talk

Who doesn’t enjoy cuddling with pillow talk? Communists, that’s who.

While the sex was amazing, the pillow talk was even better. No one, not even the intriguing Architect, could hold a candle to how well we connected as friends. We were actual friends and had more in common than I do with most of my best friends. I enjoyed his nerdy side, his intelligence that he never used to belittle me with, and how open he was with communicating in bed and following through with those decisions. When I say I like kinky things, there is still a line. He continually pushed that line. One time he was all over the dirty talk, which I rarely cared about. He was using all sorts of different phrases and names, until I stopped while ridding him and said, no…I can’t have you say those things to me, and he just kissed me, flipped me onto my back and fucked me slow and tenderly. After he came and I snuggled up next to him, he thanked me for stopping him; he genuinely wanted me to have a good time. Maybe I’ve been unlucky, but most men you fuck while not in a relationship don’t really care about that. It’s not long term, so why devote gobs of attention to that?

It took a few weeks into our constant fucking that I wasn’t really bleeding. I would bleed after his decently sized penis would get really deep, but otherwise, I was normal. Most men say they enjoy giving oral so you, as the woman, will give them oral first and then not notice they start fucking you immediately once they take the cock out of your mouth. Tony Stark LOVED giving head as much as me. While I first tried 69 with the Architect, Tony Stark perfected it with me. He was AMAZING at it too. He was tender and soft, which is exactly what my clit needed. Fairly certain he should have written a guide to my vagina for others. Oh well. Didn’t matter if I had his cum in me, he would go down on me.

When I say we were friends, I wasn’t lying. Tony Stark was moving apartments one weekend, making me sexless while he was exhausted. He grew up in this city, went to college here and has worked here; basically, he has lots of friends here. He called me while I thought he was moving. At that moment, I was enjoying a very exciting porno on my phone and freaked out that someone was calling me. I ignored it; he probably butt dialed me. I texted him and said something along the lines of, your ass obviously misses me enough to hear my voice…or if he needed something. He needed a ride. This wasn’t like driving Perfect Baggage hours to get a jeep and not be thanked; Tony Stark thanked me profusely, not just with words, but with actions. To put it less vaguely, Catherine was a pampered queen the next time he saw me.

Baseball bat

Yeah…I would have for him. But everyone else maybe gets a finger.

As I’ve mentioned in previous posts, anal isn’t necessarily my thing, but I’ll do it after I’ve slept with a guy a few times. I mean, I have the pre-work hardware for it (butt plug and bottles of lube thanks to Adam Eve always sending it as a free gift), but I didn’t go up to a guy and go, pleasehave fun with these. Men normally aren’t patient, cautious, or that generous with lube–past experiences. Tony Stark asked if I would want to try it one night; I had told him I’d done it before, but wasn’t the biggest fan. Of course I would; for him, I probably would have used a baseball bat. I told him I needed to warm up for him with my anal plug. He let me put my plug in myself the first time; well, he watched me awkwardly struggle. I basically looked like a cat chasing its own tail. I stopped and gave the pouting face to him. He was more than willing to help me. Tony Stark’s penis is not tiny, my butt plug in comparison is. I didn’t know how long he would let me keep it in there before he wanted to actually fuck me, but it didn’t matter. After he put it in me, he couldn’t wait to get behind me and fuck me. I was on cloud nine; I wanted to cum. I never want to actually cum, but my body was like, let’s get this show on the road! It didn’t take too long for him to cum, and he slowly took the toy out of my ass and went to clean it. I found my vibrator in my bag of goodies and decided I really really wanted to cum. When he came out of the bathroom, he commented on the lovely view he had.

I faked it. Ten plus minutes of me trying too. I don’t know what happened, but I faked my orgasm for no reason. None. He didn’t care if I didn’t, but when I said I did, he was so congratulatory to me, and we cuddled and all the cute crap I love. It took several more months for me to realize exactly what it is that made me orgasm and it was definitely earth shattering.

Lessons learned: I need to get actual toy cleaning solution. And I still really love some fucked up sex. Cheers to finding a man to balance my sexual needs!

cheering champagne glasses

Cheers! On a present day note, I’ve found some decent men that I think get me.


The Daring Vagina

Nerds Do It Better

Sex with Tony Stark was never bad; he was sensual, caring, and cuddled after each session (multiple orgasms are key to my vagina’s heart!) The very first time we had sex was just ok compared to the rest of our times together, but compared to everyone before him…I was in heaven. Like, 7th heaven.


Not this 7th heaven, thank god.

As mentioned, there was bleeding still happening from the iud; he had no problem with bloody sex, but was more concerned if he hurt the healing process than anything else. For a guy you only plan to fuck, he was the most caring individual I had ever met. Compared to Perfect Baggage, this was the nice twin. Tony Stark never once sent any pictures of his penis and never asked for ones of my lady parts (I did later to entice him though); he maintained that his penis was proportional to his height. The guy is tall. I say 6’5, but I had to go on my toes while he leaned down to kiss me. Pretty sure he was over that, and then way over that with the poofy hair. Let’s just say I was way too eager to see what he meant by “proportional.”

When the time came for me to test out my rusty oral skills, I wasn’t disappointed by his length or girth; it was perfect for me and very proportional for a man his height. However, I was disappointed in my oral skills. Maybe it’s just me, but if you don’t use your oral skills for awhile, they lack. I was and still am a deep throater, but, I hadn’t had a large penis in my mouth in like…forever. To estimate his cock, 8ish inches, and thick. The first session of the afternoon was actually decent in time. I told him going in that I don’t cum, and I wasn’t saying that as some sort of confidence booster for later on when I actually did. He lasted awhile, and after he came, there was cuddling; full on cuddling, and kissing. I don’t think I had been so happy about sex before. We had sex three more times before I went back to work. While having sex, I could tell he was holding back on being rough; he would grab my ass tightly and then almost immediately relax his grip to resting. He told me he normally wasn’t able to go that many times–four is a lot. I was more than happy with whatever he wanted to give me.

We showered together and left my apartment at the same time (he helped me zip my dress back on.) It took all of twenty minutes back at work before he started texting me again. I was prepared for how he would disappear like some of the other men would; not this guy. Tony Stark wanted to see me the next day if I wanted to. Done deal! I told him he could be rougher if he wanted to; he told me I could call him sir if I wanted to–done and done from both of us. We talked about condoms; I wasn’t planning to go on seeing anyone else if he kept Catherine busy, and if I was it for him…well, I’m ok without the hassle. I was clean, thanks last obgyn appointment before my iud!

The next time we met, I learned how badly he was with time management. I told him I was off at 1 and he could come over around 2 (in case I needed to clean up or anything.) That man didn’t get there until well after 3. He had some work to do, so I gave him some slack. But seriously? Two hours off? I didn’t care. Sex with Tony Stark was amazing; if he made my vagina look like a murder scene (which would often happen because of his penis size), he again would get a wash cloth to clean me off. It was sweet, and probably seems weird to an outsider. He was rougher in bed; he spanked me. Not just every now and then, but a few good times throughout his whole time there. While I have had a few slaps on my ass during, they couldn’t hold a candle to how excited the ones from Tony Stark made me.

When it was close to 6:30 (the time I need to kick people out), he asked if I wanted to go to dinner. I was flattered, but, I sadly had plans. I told him we should do it soon though. We saw each other Sunday at his place. It wasn’t necessarily what I was expecting for his place, but it was nerdy and artsy and looked like my place, sub out my fandoms for his. He also had a very cute tortoise colored cat (I think that’s what you call it.) It was a fun afternoon of sex; he asked me to bring some of my toys and I happily obliged him. I wasn’t expecting his toys though. He was sold on being dominant, but not just sir, he wanted me to call him daddy. Like a stripper, I have daddy issues; I was instantly turned on by that concept.

While I don’t want to get into sordid details (I actually feel private about this particular affair of mine for so many reasons (mostly because if he texted me right now to run away to a cabin in North Dakota, I would)), I will say that on that Sunday he tied me up, used ice on me, and I actually almost came. Legitly almost came. We must have worn each other out; I didn’t remember falling asleep, but I woke up curled next to his side. I playfully woke him up while biting his side, then kissing up to his ear. Sweetly kissed me, pulled me on top, and called me his sweet baby girl. I don’t know how, but he got we wetter than any other man had, has, or possibly will.

This would be the beginning of an amazing love affair.

Lessons learned: I like some kinky, fucked up shit, and that gets me off.


Oh if only...


The Daring Vagina

Anticipation of Something Amazing


I do enjoy nerd talk more than most ladies...

Tony Stark (because he’s nerdy, witty, and smooth as heck) and I texted like we were having a full-fledged conversation face to face; it was intoxicating. He may have said “lol,” but he followed it up with more. There were no short answers and I loved how open he was. We conversed about everything; cats are awesome, video games, sci-fi shows, trivia, and most importantly: sex. He was witty, intelligent, handsome and I couldn’t get enough. I couldn’t wait to meet him. We settled on a lunch during the middle of the work week just to see if we clicked. We decided on Panera Bread (I love me some carbs, especially with my running) and a time. He told me not to be late, and I responded with a “yes, sir!” I dressed in a cute purple dress with a zipper from top to bottom and boots. Always need boots to accent sexy calves and hide your running feet!

I got to Panera Bread a tad early (I am an “early is on time” kind of girl) and sat in my car to calm my nerves. I’m always nervous when I first meet people but this time was different. It didn’t help it was 100+ degrees outside and I felt like I was gonna melt before I got inside. He texted me to let me know he was there. I responded that I would be right there! When I got to the door and saw him, I was far from disappointed; he was well over 6’5 (thank god my boots had a heel), brown eyes, curly hair, a full on beard, and pasty pale nerd skin. He was wearing a button up shirt and jeans—he looked relaxed and not as nervous as I was. We ordered food (I wouldn’t let him pay for me cause, ya know, it’s just a fwb thing) and sat down to wait. We talked about random things, we ate our food, and it took no time at all that I was smitten (yes, smitten. I enjoy this word in this situation immensely.) I did disclose a tad about my partner to a point. By this point I think I had perfected my story about my partner; we broke up because he was gay and I would never kick him out because I loved him more than apple pie. I stressed the point and made it very clear I didn’t want a relationship, and neither did he. Perfect!

Anyways! Tony Stark, with his long wing span, was able to not only rub my knee under the table with ease, but was able to pick each of my legs up to put them on either side of his. This was done almost effortlessly and incredibly quiet; he was a pro at this. As he was rubbing my calves on either side of him, he asked questions about sex; would I be into a dominant/submissive scenario in bed was a fun topic of choice. I don’t think I could hide my blushing or excitement from him when he talked about that in particular. He brought it up because of the numerous times I said “yes, sir.”

I finally checked my phone for the time; we had been talking well over an hour and half, getting to two hours. Where did the time go?…into making me wet with anticipation. He checked his watch and said he needed to get back as well. I told him that he should come over the next day during my lunch break. He agreed; we settled on a time before getting out of there.

He walked me to my car; I jokingly thanked him for protecting me from all the day time muggers. He made a smart ass comeback; I could get used to his humor, that’s for sure. I unlocked my car and thanked him for a wonderful lunch. In one swift and smooth action, he put his hands on my hips, pushing me against my car as he leaned down to give me the best preview kiss ever. Tony Stark is an amazing kisser and knows how to use his tongue, that’s for damn sure. He pulled back as swiftly as he started, leaving me wanting more. I must have had a pouting face on because he leaned down, kissed my forehead and told me to wait for tomorrow.

I think I had to only wait the 10 minute drive to the office before he texted me, and we were right back to our overly descriptive texting. I don’t think I was able to get any work done that day, and I masturbated about 6 times after work. Waiting and being patient is not my strong suit.

Now, before I get ahead of myself, I did tell him about not only my iud, but my bleeding. He was perfectly ok with having sex while I’m bleeding. Perfect Baggage never did. Anytime Tony Stark made me bleed, he was more sympathetic to Catherine the Great’s problems, and he’d just get a towel to clean me. Understanding gentleman, that’s for damn sure.

Lessons learned: There is always something better out there.


The Daring Vagina