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.

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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:

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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.

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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.

Sincerely,
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.

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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.

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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.

Sincerely,

The Daring Vagina

Car Sex

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sincerely,
The Daring Vagina