I Love Sex

I love sex.  There is no other way to put it.

I am a very sexual person…
If I’m not having regular sex, then I am hunting for someone to have sex with.
If I’m not actively hunting, then I am fantasizing about having sex.
If I’m alone, then I am frantically masturbating (4, sometimes 5 times in a night?!)
I am a little freak.

But it wasn’t always this way…

My first sexual partner was my high school boyfriend.  I was a virgin, he was not.  He introduced me to the magical world of cunnilingus and as much as I loved the oral sex, I wasn’t such a huge fan of the vaginal sex.  It was uncomfortable and awkward, we only ever did missionary and he would hold off on finishing until I orgasmed first.  That was obviously never going to happen so I did what I thought was best: I would let him fuck me for a few minutes and then I would fake my orgasm with Academy Award winning zeal and he would quickly finish.  It’s still amazing to me that someone who was giving me real orgasms could never differentiate between the two.

The next man I slept with was a depraved, sociopathic, bipolar mess; and the sex was incredible.  He opened me up to myself in ways no one has since.  I realized I could like sex, maybe even love it.  I discovered that I liked road head, phone sex, role playing and butt stuff.  Our entire relationship, the two of us were either fighting or fucking, but when it was the latter, damn it was good!

When I found myself finally single again, I couldn’t wait to spread my wings (and legs!) and hunt for some hot sex.  I ended up stumbling into a relationship and with a VIRGIN no less.  Although horrified at first, I must admit I did enjoy playing teacher and introducing him to the wonderful world of intercourse.  He was even the first guy to give me an orgasm from sex alone.  I trained him to be my ideal lover, but there was still some spark missing.

After that ended, I decided to engage in my first one night stand.  He was a friend of a friend, muscular, tall, and tatted.  He asked me to come home with him and I couldn’t refuse.  It was not what I expected.  He was into choking and biting, but was a softy who also enjoyed cuddling and conversations.
Is this what all one night stands are like?  I wondered, so I decided to find out.

In one year my number jumped from 3 to well into the double digits.  I learned that there were all kinds of men, dicks, sex styles.  It was all in the name of research, I swear.
By the time I started up with him, I was feeling a little sheepish about my sexual rampage.  He and I had a troubled sex life from the get go.  Even when it was at its best, it wasn’t enough for me.  Whenever I suggested spicing things up, he would become extremely offended.  He knew I was more experienced then him and it made him feel unworthy.  Even after finishing an especially hot romp, I would find myself masturbating while he snored beside me.  One orgasm wasn’t enough for me, I wanted to bang all night long, but I had no way of telling him that.
I thought that I was the problem, I must have been weird and depraved and unworthy of a real relationship.

I did finally decided to leave him, but I didn’t think I would be ready to jump into casual sex for a long long time.  Then I met Matthew and the man rocked my world.  I was ecstatic to get out into the world and start sampling the buffet until I got stuck in my worst draught.

There’s something else I love about sex other than the pleasure and the orgasms, it’s the unexpected intimacy.
Think about it.  You may not love someone you’re fucking, you may not even like them, hell, you may straight up hate them, but the sex can still be amazing.  In that moment, you are seeing a person at their most exposed and vulnerable.  Your bodies literally fit together to become one.  It’s a pretty powerful thing.  After all, sex is the reason we’re all here today, it’s on most peoples mind at any given time, it’s always present and prevalent in society.  Regardless of your stance, there is no denying the affect it has on all of our lives.


We’ve Come A Long Way

When I first started this blog it was a means to vent about my failed relationship without further annoying my patient friends.
It then allowed me to organize my thoughts and do some soul searching.
Soon after it became a platform to discuss hot sex and cute boys.
The sex dwindled and I started writing a number of hasty, short articles about whatever popped into my mind.
Now?  I don’t know what to write about.  I can’t say what my blog is or where it’s going.  It’s rather representative of my life.  I never know what I want or what path to follow.  Maybe I never will.  But I know I’ve come a long way, even just in the last year.
My mind used to be consumed with thoughts of sex and men and potential boyfriends.
I’m still that crazy ultra-sexual woman, but my thought process has shifted.  I can’t just have sex with someone I feel half-hearted about.
Believe me, I’ve tried.

LipRing was my last and that was once and months ago.  He and I have slept together only a handful of times in the last few months.  After our last encounter, I was determined never to go back.  The sex is subpar and not worth putting up with his weird and rude antics.  There’s very little I like about him and because of this, I barely find him attractive anymore; I’d rather be chaste than have to spend any more time in his company.
Luckily, he also backed off and provided me no opportunities for temptation.

Last weekend our paths inevitably collided.  It was the weekend of Rip Curl Pro and the town was swarming with hot foreign surfers.  I was on antibiotics that would cause me to vomit uncontrollably at even a drop of alcohol so needless to say I was completely sober.  But I still attended the after party, I really wanted to dance and possibly talk to a cute guy.
It was an amazing and fun night.  I love socializing with a clear head and knowing that no one will remember anything I say or do, it’s a powerful feeling.  Naturally, LipRing was one of the first I saw and he was smashed.  He stumbled over and began rustling my hair until I pushed him away and yelled, “SCRAM!”
I did my best to avoid him, but it seemed every time I turned around he was beside me with his tongue down the throat of a gorgeous leggy brunette.
Two days later he started messaging me, whining about how we hadn’t seen each other in so long.
“I saw you on Saturday…” I informed him.  He seemed abashed.

The following weekend we saw each other yet again, only this time my mind was definitely not clear.
He asked me again and again to come home with him and every time I said no.
“I’ll drive you home in the morning!”
“Or you’ll make me walk home again, in the rain…”
“No, I swear I’ll drive you.”
“Even so, it’s not happening.”
Finally he relented and said, “Okay, I guess you have your reasons…”
“I have a lot of reasons,” I slurred, “But none of them matters, what matters is I DON’T WANT TO and so I’m not going to.”
“You’re missing out,” he threatened.
“YOU’RE missing out,” I countered and then did my best to dodge him for the remainder of the night.
When I woke up, I smiled through my hangover.
I was proud of myself for sticking to my guns and going home alone.

The other night, while watching Archer I found myself seriously attracted to Stirling Archer.  Turned on by a drawing of a man, yes it’s gotten that bad.
I considered just finding a decent looking guy, any guy, and seducing him.  After all, there are two Kiwi men who have been pursuing me lately.
One is nearly ten years my junior.  He lives at home, works for his dad and is into extreme sports.  He’s sweet and attractive enough, it could be fun to bed him and show him the time of his life.
The other is a few years older than me and is the definition of an adult.  He lives on his own, is an engineer and a base player.  He’s nice and has a good body.  His hairline is receding, but he’s attractive enough.  He could know his way around a woman’s body and it could be fun.
Enough is the key word.  They’re nice enough, attractive enough, but enough is no longer enough.  I don’t want to settle to appease my sullen vagina.
I want intrigue and passion and excitement.  I want to WANT someone.  I want to be mad with desire for the next man I have sex with.

I was talking to Dillon and as always, our conversation turned to sex.  Dillon admitted he’d been rather slutty lately while I admitted to being slightly prudish.
“It’s not for lack of trying,” I insisted, “I just can’t find anyone who interests me even a little and I can’t be bothered to have meaningless sex with strangers.  What’s happened to me?”
“That’s probably a good thing,” he suggested, “It means you’re growing up.”

Growing up?  I guess it had to happen eventually.

I patiently await the day I meet a person that makes my heart pound and my breath ragged.
Until then, it’s nice to know that I’m happy and content on my own.

My blog may always be a mishmash of thoughts, but at least I’m starting to find my way.


Sex Interviews

My friend Andi was griping to us girls.  After a six month draught, she finally slept with a guy she went to high school with.  She was horrified by his weird sex noises and her lack of an orgasm, but how could she have known it’d be so disappointing?
That’s when I came up with the brilliant idea of sex interviews.  Think about it… You wouldn’t hire someone without first interviewing them and comparing them to other contenders.  You wouldn’t entrust your children to someone you just met.  So why your orgasms?  Some might argue that the first roll in the hay is like a trial, but I say there should be a less violating and more practical way to find out if a man is good at sex. This is my brilliant plan for recruiting my next sex buddy, tell me what you think guys.

The Interview Process:

  • All applicants must arrive with a CV.  This will consist of a “Head Shot” (hehe) of their erect penis.  Resume should include but not be limited to: special skills, sexual likes and dislikes and any known fetishes.
  • All candidates must provide references for the last three women they were intimate with.
  • The interview process will last 20 minutes and will contain questions such as:
    “What is your stance on cuddling?” and
    “How many times can you go in one night?”
  • Following the interview there will be a one minute trial make out session.  This will be followed with a sex preview in which the candidate will demonstrate their best moves on a mannequin.
  • The process will conclude with an STD test.

What will the winning contender get out of this?  Why, the pleasure of sex with me of course.  Whenever, wherever.


Guilt Will Keep Us Together (Or Why It’s Society’s Fault)

Continued From Before

Why do good women stay in bad relationships? Is it because we don’t want to give up and admit defeat? I think its because society tells us that as women, our main goal should be securing a husband and popping out children.
In my high school Career and Personal Planing class we were told to sit down and map out every milestone and goal from now until death. As disgusted as I was at the thought of planning my entire life at the tender age of 16, I complied. What I do remember from that assignment was that I planned to be married at 25 and have my first child before 30 and since I wanted to date someone for at least 4 years before marrying them, that made my ideal age for finding a life partner 21. Twenty-fucking-one! At the age when most Americans are finally legal to drink, I would be seeking out my soulmate.

I was about that age when I met him and I’m certain that life goal was still looming in the back of my mind. We were close friends with lots in common, he loved me unconditionally and was a good person, so I thought that was all that mattered, after all, I needed someone that was good husband material. Now at the age of 27, a part of me dies whenever someone I know gets married or has kids and I visibly cringe whenever I’m asked when I plan to marry.

Why do women put these unrealistic pressures on ourselves? Is it because we are genetically limited on our child bearing years? Women are so insecure about ending up a crazy cat lady that they give in to irrational thinking.
At 21, my number one goal was finding myself a boyfriend, I never even considered venturing out on my own and following my own dreams. It was boyfriend, or bust!