That last post was silly. Please ignore.

My roommates have been moving out of my house and the sole remaining one left today, finally. I mean he’s a good friend but living with friends gets old after a while, you know? You start to nitpick at each other, and not in a nice way sometimes. It feels amazing to be here alone, with just my dogs. Maybe that sounds sad? But I feel like I have so much space and so much freedom now, and I don’t have to constantly clean up after other people… It’s really excellent.

I had a mini celebration earlier for it. J wanted to come over for some noon fun – he couldn’t before because of the roomies always being here. So this was a particularly special day! Anyway, I cooked a bit. Made some salad, a little steak, a couple of tiny fruit tarts. Baked some rosemary bread last night too. I kinda fucked up the steak but everything else was great. I’m still full (probably because I’ve been eating the lemon tart filling out of the jar all day long, but let’s not discuss that).

Next week I have orientation for school… Thought it was just one day, but nope! Turns out it’s Monday-Friday, 8:30-5:00. Mmm mm! Time to get things rolling, amirite? I’m feeling pumped.

I feel like my writing on here is going to diminish greatly once school starts, but I’ll try to keep up with it. I mean, at the very least I’m going to MAKE time to go fuck people, so I’m gonna need to write about it afterwards. Weeee!!

Drunken Ramblings

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Those feelings are hitting me again. Those fucking feelings, irritating wonderful feelings.

And I know they mean nothing. But so quick? Why does this happen so easily? And if I think about it, I don’t even know why this obsession has come over me again. Why him? He has no distinctive qualities. He’s not super interesting or funny or smart or rich. He’s not model material – good looking but not absolutely stunning. He doesn’t blow my mind in bed. But somehow I just want him. Desperately want him. Consumed by want of him. He’s gorgeous. He’s amazing. He’s wonderful. Why? I don’t know, he just is. My heart says so. Heartache and logic are mutually exclusive.

I want him to hold me forever. I want that moment in bed with him, where we’re sitting, laughing, and he leans over and kisses me and the look in his eyes is pure adoration. I want that moment where I can believe that I’m safe and protected and for once I can be honest because nothing I say will make that look go away. I want that moment where his secrets become mine too, where he feels just as comfortable with me as I do with him, where he lets me hold him and comfort him too.

I want that moment where I can admit to falling for him, and everything will be all right. He’ll tell me he feels the same, and we’ll talk about the possibility of something “more.” What that would entail, what conditions we’d each have to meet. And we’d promise that we’d do those things, and we’d kiss more passionately than ever before, and we’d fuck like never before, gently and roughly and like the world was ending. And afterward we’d hold each other tight, so tight, sweat mixing in the folds of our skins pressed together, our bodies hot as furnaces, and still we wouldn’t let go. Not for a long, long time. And when we finally do, we’d keep our fingers intertwined. We’d kiss again, just once, but a lingering one. Good night. I adore you. Those are the words we’d fall asleep to.

And in the morning he’d get up first like he always does, and take a few minutes to stare at me sleeping. I’d sense it and open my eyes slowly to his, and he’d smile and touch my cheek. The emotions. Purity. We’d say those words again and kiss and fuck and lay there more, in a bed made of happiness.

And that would be it.

That would be the end of the moment. Because once that part’s done, we’d have to get back to reality. There’s a life outside of bliss after all. And after that peak of perfection is reached, the only way we can go is down. Questions. Demands. Irritations. Frustrations. Tears. The only way to go when you’ve reached the highest point of happiness you can ever reach is down, and that moment was the highest point. After that it’s just poor imitations, getting worse and worse, until it’s all over.

And that part I don’t want. All I want is the one moment, where we say we want each other desperately and have a night and a morning where we act like we do. And then I just want things to go back to normal – I want to slide back down the way I came up, not try my luck with the other side. The words would never be mentioned again after that moment, and though we might see the desire for them in each other’s eyes once in a while, we would push it aside.

Friends. I’d rather just be real true friends forever. I want the absolution of my heartache, for the few moments that it will last, but I want a friend more.

Let’s put these emotions to good use. These silly, unpleasant, magical feelings. Give from the heart as much as I can, show my desire every day until it’s blatant, but never say a word. It’s easier that way.

Is this real? Am I making it up because I’m a masochist, because I like the feeling of pain, of heartache? Whatever the reason, it’ll fade soon enough. No point in ruining an amazing thing for a feeling that will disappear as soon as I find something better.

Mr. Superman

Last night was super awkward because we had a get-together at my house with a bunch of friends and my husband brought by his new girlfriend. Doop dee doo… That was quick. Once again, feeling validated! I drank way too much though. Was out like a light.

Woke up this morning to an incoming text from Mr. Superman. What an excellent start to my day… Half an hour later I was at his place, a few sex toys in tow again – this cute riding crop with a heart-shaped end (it leaves heart-shaped marks, teehee), a tiny vibrator, and some fuzzy handcuffs. Oh, and one of those vibrating cock ring things, but he was not interested in that.

I can’t sit right now. That’s how bruised and beaten my ass is right now. It feels fucking amazing.

I don’t think I can have sex for at least another couple days either. The compounding soreness has reached critical levels.

In between the sex that spanned the course of another three hours today, we watched the Harry Potter movies. Most of the third, part of the fourth. That just increases his awesomeness by like a million. I could watch Harry Potter any day.

Feeling so satisfied right now.

The downside is the Lawyer texted me while I was over at Mr. Superman’s place… He really wants me to come over tonight. We were sexting last night and I wanted to go over there then but he had to actually work all night long so we said we might do today. But it was only a maybe. Now I’m super sore… I feel kinda bad saying no but there’s no way I can have anymore sex today. What to say, what to say?

I’ll figure it out while I go take a nice long bubble bath.

Infinite Mortification

Gonna try to keep this short, so as to not prolong my own embarrassment.

I ended up texting Mr. Superman this morning. I know, it looks bad if I text him too quick, but I have zero patience. Besides, it ended up working out in my favor since he told me to come over. And to bring stuff.

Very open-ended command. I assumed he meant sex toys, but I only took one sex toy with me (my lovely glass dildo, I think I’ve mentioned it before). And a belt, and some pop rocks. Because blowjobs with pop rocks apparently feel amazing. I don’t know, I just like the taste and feeling of cock and pop rocks in my mouth together.

REALLY need some Advil today. My pussy is just… destroyed, for lack of a better word.

I left his place with this absolute euphoria, just smiling from ear to ear as if I was high on the most amazing drugs money could buy. And starving. Hadn’t eaten all day, so I decided to drive around the neighborhood to see what I could find.

Well, in my attempt to maneuver my phone with google maps up on it to find my way around, I maaaaaay have not stopped entirely at a Stop sign.

And well, there maaaaaay have been a cop RIGHT around the fucking corner as I turned onto the next street.

Aaaaaand, when the cop pulled me over for not stopping at the Stop sign, my dildo may have fallen out of my purse as I was digging for my driver’s license.

He definitely saw it. Like, I shoved it to the side so it rolled off me onto the floor, but that cop DEFINITELY fucking saw my dildo. And he saw my hair, and my makeup running everywhere, and probably noticed the fact that I wasn’t wearing a bra.

Douchebag still wrote me a ticket with a big fat grin on his face. But, on the bright side, he didn’t cite me for the fact that I couldn’t find my registration stuff – I have always been prepared to log in to my insurance’s website to pull it up but for some reason it was not working from my phone today. This was the first time I’ve ever been pulled over too, so I guess he figured it would be okay to be a little lenient.

But oh my goodness. I don’t think I have EVER been as bright beet red as I was today.

I need a drink.


Last night’s date will be discussed momentarily. First, TODAY. I had a coffee date with this guy that I’ve been texting for a while. He’s one of those oil rig dudes that goes and hangs out on an oil rig for a week and then has vacay the week after. Just got home last night apparently, and I’ve been itching to hang out with him for a while. 11 am drinks seemed a little ridiculous, hence coffee. Even though I really don’t like coffee. I got the sugariest most milk-infused kind on the menu at this little coffee shop we went to and still didn’t drink it all.

I need to learn how to quit rambling about random bullshit because who gives a fuck about the coffee? We stayed at the coffee place a grand total of ten minutes. I was giving him my best “please let’s go fuck” eyes and I think he was trying to just resist the urge for a little while but when I started rubbing his leg with my foot, that was it. Headed straight for his apartment.

He knew I wanted it rough, and boy oh boy did he deliver. Oh me oh my. Forgot to mention – he asked me to wear some nylon pantyhose on the date. I hate that stuff, but it was so worth it today… As soon as I got into his place he threw me on the couch and tore a big hole in the nylons, letting out my bare ass. Because obviously I wasn’t wearing panties. Who wears panties in public? What losers. Gosh.

Anyway, he tore it open and smacked my ass til his fingerprints were bruised on there, then throat fucked me til I gagged. (The pictures he sent me earlier that week were misleading in the most wonderful of ways – his cock was a lot bigger than I expected.) Fifteen minutes in my makeup was already all over my face and my hair was going wild, and I still hadn’t felt him inside me. He wanted to hear me beg for it, I knew. But even though I love being dominated, I’m way too feisty to just let it happen. He called me a brat about it, actually. Haha. What can I say, I like being truly taken… It’s less fun without a fight.

I gave in once he started teasing me with the head. That’s my downfall I guess, can’t take being teased for too long. The second the word “please” left my lips it felt like my pussy was being split in two, that’s how hard he shoved himself inside. If I’d had the tiniest bit of clit friction I would’ve come right then, but sadly I had to wait about three more minutes until he decided I should get on top.

And that was just the beginning of the three hour sexcapade that was my afternoon, which consisted of him picking me up and fucking me against a wall, tying me up to his bedpost with my torn up pantyhose and fucking me there, and my favorite part of the day – taking me to the bathroom, leaning me over the counter, and pulling my head back by my hair so I could watch myself getting fucked in the mirror. I’ve never really seen my own expression getting fucked. In hindsight, I probably should try to look less like I’m getting murdered, but by that point I was past the point of caring about my appearance. My hair was literally a knot on top of my head (he had tied it up so it would stay out of the way while I was sucking him off) and I’m pretty sure I had mascara on my lips. Somehow. Didn’t give a shit, I was officially experiencing the best fuck of my life.

I’m not sure how he accomplished this, but minus about twenty minutes of sitting in bed cuddling, he was super hard the ENTIRE time too. And he came three times. I am truly impressed by Mr. Superman. That’s what we’re calling him by the way. I was debating something about his height – he’s 6’6″, which is crazy compared to my 5’3″, but I guess it works. Funny story by the way – I totally rejected him initially on the dating site. I was like, “No way you’re getting in my pants, you’re too tall and it would be ridiculous.” Thank goodness he was clever enough to continue the conversation in an interesting direction. (It helps that he’s super good looking, but I really didn’t want to give him a chance at first because I thought it would be completely awkward trying to have sex. Glad I got proven wrong.)

As I was leaving I said to him, “I can’t wait to see you again.” He laughed and told me to call him any time, but I don’t think he’s expecting a text as soon as I’d like to send one. I should probably wait the customary three days, but fuck, if I could go back there tomorrow I would. With plenty of Advil in tow, of course. The soreness is worth it.

On the bright side, he took a few pictures and videos of our adventure today and sent them to me – guess who’s having epic solo fun tonight?

Okay. So as far as the date last night was concerned, pretty boring stuff. I ended up getting flaked on by the guy I was actually supposed to meet up with like seconds before I was about to leave my house. But another dude had messaged me on the dating site shortly beforehand looking for a fun night. His pictures were all of him playing soccer for a university and I would’ve bet money that he was a catfish because when I google image searched the pictures they were on tons of websites. But, his bio came up and when I asked him a few questions he answered them to perfection, so I figured I’d see where the selfie-trade off texting thing went.

He sent me a very legitimate looking selfie from what was clearly a hotel room in the city – apparently he JUST moved here from his university city, so everything was still lining up. I was bored and wanted to get laid so I asked him if I could just go to his hotel room. By that time it was pretty late and he was making all sorts of excuses about having to get up early in the morning, but he also kept telling me how much he wanted me there with him.

Well, I obviously ended up going, but turns out the issue wasn’t really that he was getting up early, he was just afraid to embarrass himself. Soccer Star clearly had not had sex in a VERY long time, if you catch my drift. That’s the definition of a quickie. But he’s smoking hot and seems like a legitimately cool person, so I may end up seeing him again.

Nothing remotely on the level of my amazing day today. Oh my goodness I cannot wait to see Mr. Superman again. Can. Not. Wait.

I need a serious distraction. J, let me come over dammit!

So Much Better

My husband was out of town for work for a while and he just got back home last night. It didn’t take long before we started pissing each other off and this afternoon we had a huge fight. It was about something completely unrelated to the following topic, but at one point he said, “And by the way, I did have a LOT of sex while I was gone, and it was so much better!”

Haha. I was upset about our actual fight so that wasn’t too amusing in the moment, but looking back that’s kind of funny. All I said was “Good, I’m happy for you.” I wish I had made it a little more clear just how happy I am, because the fact of the matter is I’m fucking ecstatic that he’s getting laid. Now I don’t have to be so secretive about where I’m going out at night while he’s here.

I mean I’m not going to announce to the world that tonight I’m going to meet some random guy in a bar who I’ll probably go home with. But when I put on my nice dress and my heels in a little bit, I can walk right past him, sexy perfume and all, and not feel the teensiest twinge of guilt.

Oh yes, I’m a slut. Oh yes, I’m a cunt. Oh yes, I’m a raging unfair bitch. But apparently I’m also the one who had the balls in our relationship, because as he very much enjoyed explaining to me today, his life is so much better without me. I’m lazy and haven’t done anything with my life for years and I got fat while we were dating and expected him to do everything. Haha. Okay man – well then shouldn’t you be thanking me for being the one with the courage to free you from the shit I was putting you through?

No no. Of course not. Thank goodness you’re free but fuck me for being the cunt that made that the case.

I’ll stop ranting now, I’m sure no one finds this remotely entertaining. Pretty excited for this date tonight, though mainly because the guy sent me a cock picture, teehee. Otherwise I feel like it’s going to be pulling teeth to have a conversation, but whatever, I’ve got golden fuck buddies right now. A one night stand works for me.

Thrill Of The Chase

Last night I did something completely out of character and went to a guy’s house before actually meeting him in a public place. Luckily we had been talking for a looooong time and he’d sent me a bunch of selfies. I wasn’t too worried and for once my recklessness did not lead me into a hilariously disastrous situation, so that was good. On the less bright side, this guy will henceforth be known as the Talker, because he did not shut up for a millisecond until we were both naked. Thank goodness he finally went quiet then, or I swear I would’ve just been like “Nope, fuck this shit” and hightailed it out of there. Nothing magical to speak of, though he does have a really nice car and he promised to take me on a drive in it at 140 mph, so I’ll definitely have to see him again.

Gotta be careful though. He seems like one of those guys that would be way to easy to conquer, you know what I mean? Like I know I could have him eating out of the palm of my hand in a couple weeks if I really wanted to, but that’s the thing – if I can tell that the win will be easy as pie, then I don’t really want to play the game. I’ve said a few times that I want many people to fall in love with me. It’s a pretty powerful thing to hold someone’s heart and be able to do whatever you want with it, and yes I know it’s a fucking shitty thing to want, but remember, narc writing here. But even though I want that, I also want the thrill of the chase. And not just any chase, but a very difficult one – an ultimate chase, as it were. I want the victory of holding a heart that very, very few other women could. If it’s too easy it’s boring.

With this guy it would be too easy, so I’m not interested. What a paradox, huh? Ah well. At least it will be fun for a little while.

In other news, I read this great article about using a grapefruit to give a blowjob. Apparently it feels really good. I posted the article on my Facebook and mentioned that I needed to find a willing victim to try it out on, because I think it would be fucking awesome to give a blowjob with a grapefruit. I LOVE grapefruit. So yummy! Anyway, someone jokingly suggested that I post a craigslist ad for my so-called willing victim. Obviously I wouldn’t actually contact anyone who’d reply off of craigslist, but can you imagine the kinds of responses I’d get? I’m very tempted to post the ad just for the funsies of being able to screenshot emails and post them here. We’ll see if I do or not, I’m kinda busy this week so I don’t have a whole lot of time to spend glued to the computer, but it seems like a ton of fun.