When You Have Coitus with a Friend…

Sex with a friend is always better than with a random hook up from the bars in Vegas.


Who doesn't want to know if his penis could just stretch and that's why Sue stayed around?

Granted, I met Mr. Fantastic through Tinder, but I felt an instant connection with him. It didn’t take long after matching that we went to texting. I was smitten with his personality, the thirst was real with his body, and I was weak in the knees when it came to his skills in bed. 

When I matched with Mr. Fantastic, it was the Monday before New Year’s. He lives in another city, but had been staying in my city to recover from a basketball injury that resulted in him being on crutches. What can I say, I love a logistical challenge in the bedroom. His demeanor while texting was like a breath of fresh air; but I know from past experiences that men will say and do whatever to have heir penis in a mouth. Mr. Fantastic was an educated professional that was well versed in almost every topic we started. He was in his early 30s, divorced, and completely ok with my situation and even encouraged me to wear my rings when we were together. Not too many of my bed buddies encouraged that, let alone were ok with it. He was maybe a tad taller than me, brown curly hair that I overly enjoyed, brown eyes, soft lips, glasses that he removed before sex, and olive colored skin.

When I invited Mr. Fantastic over a day after meeting him, it didn’t take long for us to not only get intimate in the bedroom, but we felt really at ease with each other. We laid on my bed because my couch is literally a hell hole of discomfort. It didn’t take long before I pulled him, messed up knee and all, to be partially on me as we made out; his hands gripping my curves, and his lips caressing mine. While most people in extreme make-out mode can strip clothes away without thinking about the logistics, we couldn’t. It took Mr. Fantastic quite some time to undress; he had his knee brace and about 15 layers of clothes on. He took multiple layers off at a time while I was in socks, leggings, an adorable bra, tank, and a button up shirt. Mr. Fantastic quickly noticed that I was lacking panties and was thoroughly impressed. 

Because of his bum knee, he couldn’t do everything he wanted to do without assistance. Cue the assist award presented to The Daring Vagi


I've always wanted an award for my sex skills!


After giving Mr. Fantastic oral, he really wanted to go down on me. But because of his knee, he couldn’t really get situated on my bed without putting unwanted pressure on his knee. I carried a chair from my dinning room table to the foot of the bed so Mr. Fantastic could sit in the chair while I brought my hips up to him. While this sounds like the greatest idea ever, have you guys met/read about me? I am not graceful. period. I kept feeling like my ass was going to fall off the bed (I was sitting on the corner edge of the mattress) and my whole attention was focused on not falling, making it almost impossible to relax enough to enjo


This was going to be me, but naked, younger, and with more frantic arm waves

y it.

After a few moments, he asked me where my vibrator was. I pointed behind me to the bedside table. Mr. Fantastic told me to go get it. I awkwardly got off the bed (we’re talking some fancy moves that almost landed me face first on the ground), and retrieved my toy, only to need to position my vagina on a silver platter again. It honestly didn’t take long (in Daring Vagina time) for me to cum. I came with my vibrator on my clit and his mouth buried in Catherine. I laid there pretty motionless; my legs were jelly and I barely made it out of that position without collapsing on the floor.

Mr. Fantastic brought condoms with him, like a normal person, and also coconut oil. I had no idea men put lube on before a condom. Maybe this is a phase I was never introduced to, but it definitely did the trick for him. Because of his knee, there weren’t too many positions to choose from. However, my favorite was him standing with crutches while I either laid over the bed, or on top of the bed. Fucking Mr. Fantastic with him calling my name out in a passion filled voice was more than enough to send goosebumps over my body. After cumming, he not only cuddled with me, but he didn’t take long to recharge his battery. He came twice in me, and once in my mouth while I came twice overall. An afternoon of not only fucking but fun pillow talk was an afternoon well spent.


We planned, because he has not only physical therapy but a more time consuming job, our next encounter to be the following Tuesday. Aka, the same day I got a message to see Fickle Daddy. I honestly had maybe 45 minutes between them. I cleaned myself enough and even used my reusable douche to make sure I was perfect. As I was brushing my teeth, he let me know he was there. Before we even got undressed or made out, I already brought the chair into the bedroom for him to use (I’m a planner.) I asked how his week and his new year’s eve was, and that’s when he told me a woman forced a blow job on him. Being me, and knowing about blow jobs, you can’t force a man into one, let alone make him cum, without him wanting it. While I had nowhere to judge him having sex with someone else, I didn’t confess to West Point or Fickle Daddy being around, especially how I just had a penis in me right before he came over. It took me all of 5 minutes once I was with Mr. Fantastic to not concern myself with anything other than him. He is really good with his hands.

To his credit, he’s wonderful in bed; his penis isn’t the thickness I necessarily want, but his length was great for my deep throat skills. Making out with Mr. Fantastic was b, indeed, fantastic. He cupped my breasts, grabbed my hips, and when I was topless he was all over my breasts and nipples. Sadly, he wasn’t able to spend as much time with me like before, so the pre chatter was short. Like the first time, he wanted to eat me out again, but I stopped him before I came so he could fuck me. I’ve learned from my own experiences that asking/begging a man to fuck you or cum for you will result in that happening. That doesn’t happen when you ask for them to bring their own condoms 75% of the time. But of course, he was prepared like a boy scout–red condoms and coconut oil. We both came twice, and I was all over how much I enjoyed fucking him that I told myself I’d be better at dropping hints that I fucked someone recently, or literally right before he came over.

I definitely saw Mr. Fantastic again. Multiple times in January to be exact, and in February.

Lessons learned: men in their 30s are gradually becoming my new favorites; they know that you need to give to receive, and they don’t ask dumb questions about my situation. If you want someone to assume that you’re looking outside of your relationship because your “bf has a small dick,” just tell almost any 20 something you’re looking for a fuck buddy.

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 vagina...like 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

The Boy Scout

We all have a type we sleep with; my type tends to focus on personality traits over physical (but he has to be smaller than me because only one fatty in the bed, yo.) I really like nerds. This is not new to anyone who knows me. Anytime I sleep with someone that isn’t even slightly a bit nerd, it’s a one and done situation. Even Perfect Baggage had his moments. Sometimes, however, you realize that sleeping with someone that you have things in common with can lead to bad situations. The Boy Scout and I had too much in common that we would have made for a great relationship pairing, but obviously, not my style. This was the first time I was the super bitch.

I met the Boy Scout through Tinder; he was cute but it’s what his about section said that got me–hook, line, and sinker. He was a nerd. Not just in relation to one thing, but comic books, video games, shows…things I really enjoy. We matched and I instantly sent him a message. The Boy Scout was indeed a Boy Scout; one of his pictures was him at one of the hikes on Philmont they have.


I'm sure there was a sex merit badge that needed to be earned

He was about my height, blonde hair, and pale colored eyes and skin with freckles (real nerds don’t have tans.) Conversation wise, he was a complete gentleman; we didn’t talk about sex or what either of us wanted until later. When that did come up, he admitted to wanting to start out slow and see where it goes. I countered that with a, I just want a fuck buddy, which he said he could deal with.

I thought he seemed way too shy to have that much sexual experience; I was right. It took awhile, but he told me he’d only been with three girls. At the time I thought I could handle someone that would have needy tendencies compared to me; in time I found out that I couldn not. It took awhile, but I was able to find time to see him. Since he was living at home, it would be incredibly hard to find a place and time to have sex. He was also in college (he was about 23), which added fun conversation starters when it got quiet. On a random weekday, I had a morning meeting and time between it and heading back to the office, so I told him to meet me at my place.

The Boy Scout was what I expected, but I was disappointed when we met in person. It was just, bleh. However, he did play with my cat, which was an awesome bonus and amusement to me. Boy Scout had a lisp of sorts; I couldn’t put my finger on what exactly what it was when he talked, but it was weird. Standing in my room, we were both awkward. I was in no shape to make a move, and he also was timid (I’d blame the lack of experience he had.) It took awhile, but we finally started the kissing game. He had soft lips and was actually a good kisser. We undressed unceremoniously, he kept his clothes by his huge backpack while I put mine on a chair.

He started off by going down on me; he wanted to stay there indefinitely, but I told him it was my turn. It didn’t take long before we both wanted to start fucking. I had told him about my combo (vibrator on my clit, doggy style, and a finger in my ass), and he was happy to oblige me. The Boy Scout was the first man from tinder to make me cum, and I was ecstatic. It didn’t take him too long to cum either. It was a Christmas miracle! Well, Christmas in June miracle!

We laid next to each other, just casually talking before I was like, yeah I gotta go to work. I told him I couldn’t make promises on availability but we could play it by ear. He was all good with that. I offered him things to drink; he had a room temperature diet coke on him that he decided to drink instead. I can’t trust non-Europeans that drink soda without ice or being cold. I mean, gas station cold soda is better. Oh well. The Boy Scout invited me over when his parents were gone, but I straight up said no. I just couldn’t do it. He was too immature to me and for me.

We did meet up one more time, but that story in itself is a doozy.

Lessons learned: your taste in men evolves just like your taste in food. I can’t sleep with men that mitt be dating material on a regular basis. I keep learning that lesson fairly regularly.

The Daring Vagina

Mr. Complacent

The rush of meeting someone new and experiencing those tingling feelings led me to become slightly addicted to Tinder. The swiping, the flirting, the validation—it’s a pretty amazing rush. It should be no surprise that it didn’t take me too long to find someone else after the success of Tinder Man. Mr. Complacent (MC) was not my type at all; if I had known more, I probably wouldn’t have slept with him. But hey, they can’t all be winners, right? MC wasn’t the worst, but I feel I learned a valuable lesson from it (spoilers!)

MC was blunt; he wanted sex, and wanted it at his convenience. At the time, I had family in town (unexpected I might add), and I had to make excuses to get away. Being a Friday (and my birthday week), my boss let me leave a bit early on Friday. MC and I had been texting for a few days; nothing serious, just him trying to get into my pants. I told him I could leave work a little early and swing by before he had plans that evening. Mr. Complacent was the WORST at responding to texts; he told me to text when I was close by. I did; he didn’t respond. I sat outside what I thought was his place for about 10 minutes before he called me. MC gave me instructions to pull around back of this fourplex, the rocky road killed my poor baby car’s undercarriage a tad. He was standing outside when I pulled up. While still on the phone with him, I told him it would take me a minute to get my stuff together (purse hidden, just keys in hand because hey…Catherine learned her lesson.) From first glances, Mr. Complacent was super disheveled; the man needed to either use his stubble growing pictures, or say he had facial hair. He was incredibly thin (not athletic at all), light skinned, dark hair, and dark colored eyes. When I got out of the car, I guess he wasn’t expecting me to be…me? I don’t hide on my pictures that I’m fluffy; I own that shit. He literally did a double take at me. I’ve never felt so awkward in my life. MC walked into his place and came back out, noticing I hadn’t really moved. He motioned me to come up, pointing to the stairs. I was horny and I was already there, might as well go through the motions for the day, and be away from unwanted family.

MC’s place was cluttered; there was an empty dog kennel, papers everywhere…the makings of a hoarder, I tell you! Before sitting down, he stood next to me and noticed he was shorter than me. He had to stand on his tippy toes to be taller than me. Granted, I was in some taller shoes, but I was overall taller than him (mental note was made to add my height into my profile because being taller than men is weird to me on so many levels.) I giggled awkwardly before sliding out of my shoes that make me taller ( I was wearing classy hello kitty socks that day. I am secretly 16 mentally); I just brushed off the height by saying, most men are shorter than me. MC replied to this, At least I’ll be on top in bed. Well ok then!

We awkwardly talked on his couch; I learned he was some sort of broker, and worked later hours. He suggested we go to his bedroom; of course I agreed. While MC led me there, I noticed his interesting artwork; not weird interesting, but genuinely cool. Cool enough that I’d hang them up in my place. But I digress. As mentioned earlier, I was horny and just wanted to get this show on the road. Mr. Complacent took his shirt off, so I did the same before my hands decided to undo his pants and then almost in a somewhat graceful and fluid motion I was on my knees. I really don’t know how I didn’t hurt myself since he had wooden floors, but hey, sometimes I surprise myself. His penis was decently sized; from his moans, he was incredibly surprised at my oral skills. After a few minutes (or long enough that my knees hurt), I stopped, much to his disappointment. He finished taking his pants off before it clicked that I needed to play catch up. I tossed my bra, and the remainder of my clothes (minus my hello kitty socks) and then I noticed that he had white sheets. Besides hotels, no one needs white sheets. No. One.

He told me to lay down, I obliged his request. I thought he was going to go down on me; how wrong I was. MC played with Catherine, commenting on how wet I was, but only with his fingers, and not in a good way. He was actually looking off in the distance. Me being me, I just looked at him and made random moans while slightly shaking my head. After a few of my eye rolls, I tried to just relax. I was enjoying it well enough, with my eyes closed so I wasn’t looking at him. I should have paid more attention to what he was doing because all of a sudden he was inside of me, which was great. He didn’t take that long until he decided to have a conversation:
MC: Where can I cum?
DV: *not really thinking or caring* I don’t care, wherever. 
MC: *slowing down a bit* So I can cum in you?
DV: *clearly thinking he had put a condom on* Sure, I don’t care.
MC: Hmmm…But why?
DV: *giving him a look* Does it matter..? 
MC: I don’t want to get you pregnant.

So, this is where I lose it internally; do people still think that the pull out method works? Because, it doesn’t. Thank god I have amazing birth control. So, now that it dawned on me that he wasn’t wearing a condom, I told him to just finish wherever he wanted. He decided to finish on my stomach. When he was done, he told me not to move so he could get something to clean the cum off. He disappeared into I guess his bathroom and brought me a damp towel (from his earlier shower I was hoping), threw it to me and I tried my best to wipe myself off.

I put my clothes on fairly quickly and got out of there without too much small talk. I didn’t text him at all; I figured after his double take that I was an in the moment fuck. A few months later, as I was driving into work, Mr. Complacent called me. I didn’t have his number saved or anything, so it caught me off guard. I didn’t want to see him again; long story short, he gave me my favorite std. Thanks, MC, thanks.

Lesson learned: Take condoms and see them being put on.

The Daring Vagina

That First Tinder Moment Together…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


Miss Orgasm is taking a backseat to Catherine's happiness

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


The Daring Vagina

A Specific Type

Before I started this blog I made a list; I wanted to have certain sexual experiences so when I die from a rhinoceros horn puncture wound, I will be able to say that I lived it up. And no, it won’t be a rhinoceros horn to the vagina. More like to my back from running too slow. This is the story of The Asian.

I was on a quest; I posted for a particular type of guy. I wanted either an Asian or a Middle Eastern man. To me, an Asian man is incredibly sexy; 90% of the time they’re smart, and know how to use their fingers since they played the violin (I’m stereotyping, I know.) I received a few hits (like maybe seven), but only one was a keeper. The Asian was in his mid 30s, a chef at a local restaurant chain, about average build, and my height or so. He was overly attractive (half Korean and half white), witty, and was a self proclaimed insatiable man sexually. We texted all day one Saturday and then decided on meeting up around 9pm for him to eat dinner, and me to drink tea.

I am overly conscious about my weight, so when someone stares at anything else about me, it throws me off. Boob stares are also normal, but The Asian was fixated on my eyes. I have these blue eyes that are more pale than bright. He commented on them enough times that I was permanently blushing from head to toe. We talked about random things; I found out he was half Korean, had twin daughters, and loved to cook. Coincidence of the day went to the fact that I had Korean food for lunch; I do love Asians. He asked if I wanted to get out of there; of course I was ready! Ever since I was in high school I’ve always wanted to date and also sleep with Asian men. I followed him to the place he shared with his roommates, whom I also met and chatted with.
The Asian was a smoker; chain smoking two packs a day type of smoker. He left me alone in his room a few times to smoke before we actually had sex. I was wearing my yoga pants and a soft t-shirt that night. His room reminded me of a high schooler’s room; it had two posters, full sized bed, no furniture for clothes, and a tv stand that doubled as coffee table. The Asian asked me what music I was into so we could listen to it on Pandora; he’d apparently never heard of grouplove, so I guess I educated him on something that night. We made out after a bit of awkward moments; he felt the need to tell me he really liked white girls with curves. I don’t know how to respond to that; do you say, thanks for liking the category my body falls into, or do you just smile and try to not make a big deal out of the fact that a guy just said he has a sexual type as well? I went with the latter.

He turned the lights off once we started removing clothing, and that’s when the magic happened for me. The Asian was handsy, but massage type handsy. He cradled my face, my hips, my neck, my knees…he licked me everywhere, and placed light kisses that made me actually moan, and not fake moan. When he went down on me, the continual praise of my “super wet pussy” was on overdrive. His penis was average in length but fairly thick; score one for me! The Asian was overly loud when I went down on him; he was definitely a great communicator and told me what he liked and didn’t like. After he came, and gave me rude sad puppy dog eyes since I didn’t, he went for a smoke. But before he left, he left me with the task of finding a movie to watch. I was perusing his movie titles and each movie’s synopsis before I was sold on Anchorman 2.

We snuggled while watching the movie; I would distract him by sporadically sucking on a finger or two of his. It didn’t take too long before he was hard and ready for some more fooling around. While we were fucking in missionary he told me to open my eyes; he wanted to see my eyes while he fucked me. It was the most uncomfortable thing I felt I had done in a long time. I was thankful the room was dark with only the tv light lighting up the room.

After he came, he went to smoke again. I paused the movie and started looking at my phone when a voice from the window freaked me out. The Asian was outside the window smoking. He told me to play the movie and he could watch from outside. I did as he asked, but we continued to talk through the screened window. I was fascinated by him. The Asian was a multi round guy, loved foreplay, and definitely lasted more than five minutes; exactly my type of guy. When the movie was over I looked at my watch to realize it was late. As in, 3am. I told him I needed to leave; he offered up half of the bed and his cock if I stayed the night. I obviously couldn’t. He left me with a note worthy kiss; it was passionate and left me weak in the knees.

We texted a few times, but he was incredibly busy, and wasn’t available when I was and vice versa. It didn’t help that neither of us had the ideal hosting situation either. I sadly have not had another Asian since The Asian. I will take tips on cities to visit to conquer my yellow fever.

Lesson Learned: I have a fever and the only cure is more Asian (food or men. I really love Chinese buffets.)

The Daring Vagina

Ok Things Come in Big Packages

Muscle Man was a fluke; I didn’t think I’d be his type and when I met him in person, I should have just said nope. Why? There are certain things I need from a man: taller than me, smaller than me frame rise, the use of proper grammar and the English language, and a voice that’s deeper than mine. He was actually only taller than me when he wore shoes and I didn’t. The pic he originally sent was old; his appearance in person was that of an ex-body builder. The definition was there, but the actual muscles in his shoulders and chest were gone. Muscle Man actually used decent grammar, surprisingly! That voice of his…it was raspy, and not appealing when he called me “baby.”

Muscle Man and I texted a lot; well, he texted me a lot. Most of the texts were him telling me what he wanted to do to me, saying he wanted to do “all the dirty things” with me, and asking me if I was still there (I actually had to work sometimes and would go silent.) Muscle Man would ask for pics of me throughout the day, and not the ones of my adorable face. I would oblige to a point. When he would reciprocate, I couldn’t help but be like bleh; I don’t want to know/see that you are sitting on a toilet at work, taking pics of your dick. His dick didn’t look that big either.

When the topic of who’s place came up, he said he could. This took a 180° turn when it came to the day of. He told me we could meet at a parking lot and have fun there. While that sounds fun to some people, not me. I am not comfortable doing anything of the sort without at least knowing the person first. I was furious at him; he originally agreed and then nope, can’t do it. Because I’ve never been with a muscular guy like him (the pic was legit body builder material), I wanted to try at least once so I could tick it off my list. I offered my place as a one time option. He agreed; throughout the rest of the day, he kept pestering me when I would be leaving work so we could meet up. Muscle Man got off about an hour before me, not my fault. I made him wait until I got home. It’s slightly creepy to think someone is watching you when you get home from work.

I had prepared myself; shaved, smelling amazing, and I even freshened up. When he rang my doorbell I was excited; when I opened the door, less so. Muscle Man was shorter than me standing outside the door (there’s a little bit of a step), older than I thought, and I was starting to doubt his commitment to sparkle motion. His blonde hair was a crew cut, and his blue eyes were beady.

When he talked, Catherine became dry; that voice was not my style. Not at all. He had short and prickly facial hair that I started to think would give me an Indian burn if I let him near my pussy too long unsupervised. The conversion was awkward; I didn’t know what to say and he was obviously ready. While he was undressing, I quickly noticed that he wasn’t muscular in the abdomen department. I thought I inwardly sighed, but it may have been outwardly; he quickly told me to get on all fours so he could lick ass. That facial hair felt like I was using a prickly comb on my nether region; it began to become more painful than pleasurable, especially when he decided it would be awesome to rub his face up and down between the two holes.

Muscle Man asked me to turn around, I did and began to teasingly suck on his cock. He instructed me to move my lower body so he could have access to it with his fingers. Again, not that great. He then stoped and told me we should 69. Well sure! So I moved off the bed so he could lay down on it. Once I straddled his face, I began to lean forward. He stopped me; he was muffled, but he told me to sit on his face. Being a novice to this I didn’t know how far to go down, posture, or most importantly: where to put my hands. Muscle Man pulled on my hips so I was forced to fall back onto his face. The prickly feeling was still there and as awkward as the prior time. After about 5 minutes, he tapped out and I was thankful.

Muscle Man never fucked me; he came on my ass after licking me for an unprecedented about of time. He quickly dressed while asking me how often I could have him over. I told him I had to check schedules to see when would be good. He was all smiles as he left. I was more like “:/ ok.” I cleaned my now tender Catherine; if she could have retaliated, I feel she would have. For the first time in a long time, I didn’t even want to make myself orgasm after a sexual rendezvous. It was interesting to say the least.


You and me both, Catherine

Muscle Man didn’t text me; when I finally texted him three days later, he responded that he was waiting on me to make sure I had fun before texting me. Why? Just ask. Why are there protocols for talking to someone you had no strings attached sex with? I personally don’t care; if you like me or what I did, talk to me and tell me again. If not, say so if I text you. I didn’t care to see him again (my tender vagina didn’t want an assault of prickly facial hair again.) However, I was really horny one day (because I was about to start my period, hooray), and invited him over after work. It was almost exactly the same routine; this time he tried to fist me. When I figured out what he was doing I promptly said, negative, and swatted his hand. He defended his actions by saying I was so wet and he wanted to see if it could happen. Yeah…it can. But not for you!

I didn’t realize he came; he wasn’t loud and I thought he was just trying to figure out what he wanted to do next. When he walked in front of me, I sucked his cock, to which he made me stop (being slightly tender after his orgasm.) I was ok with this; really. He quickly dressed while I lay on the bed, small talking it up. He could never have long sessions with me because he had told his girlfriend/wife that he was at the gym during this time. Someone married a man with this voice? Pretty sure it was the steroid use in his much younger days.

Lesson learned: using men for sexual favors feels just as shitty and pointless when the role is reversed.


The Daring Vagina