Birthday Sex

I had my first SLS date last night.

How did it go?

In a word?

Awesome!

He was clever, witty, engaging and funny.

He laughed at my jokes.

I felt an instant connection to him.

He was real, unlike some of the Match or POF dates I’ve had, who prattle on and on about their jobs, their income, their investment portfolios, and their cars while saying ABSOLUTELY NOTHING about who they are as a person.

Sitting across from me last night was an authentic man, available for fun and enjoyment.

And I really liked that.

I had such a good time, I hope I get to see him again soon.

And since his birthday is on Tuesday. . .

. . .we might set up a “birthday” date.

Something fun, wet, and wild!

You know me, I can NEVER pass up an opportunity to celebrate someone’s birthday!

And this gives me the opportunity to spend more time with him and get to know him better.

Win – win!

 

Coke jokes

I might have let it slip among my friends at the Bare Burn that I nicknamed my friend “Coke Can Dan.”

I might have said, “I call him Coke Can Dan” but his real name is John so you better not call him Dan.

And they were good about it.

They never called him Dan.

But there we were at the Bare Burn, and literally all my friends were making Coke jokes.

Honestly, it didn’t bother Coke Can Dan.

He’s used to be heralded at parties and the like by women, much like myself, who can’t seem to keep their mouth shut about getting STUFFED!

Sometimes I wonder what it must be like, to have an appendage so big it needs its own zip code.

When lubrication isn’t a suggestion but a NECESSITY.

I joked with Coke Can Dan and told him that my lady parts could comfortably accommodate something half the size of his parts.

And in a way, that’s true.

When it comes to sparkling beverages, I’m more of a Red Bull kind of gal than a Coke Can kind of gal.

Of course, I’m being converted.

You all may get a giggle out of this post and wonder, silently, if I’m walking all right or if I have to step gingerly.

The answer is I can walk just fine, but I’d probably benefit from sitting on an ice pack.

Bareback Generation

I’ve noticed that there are men who are loathe to wear a condom, even when they’re simply hooking up with a partner for the night.

It’s a little bit shocking, to say the least.

What ever happened to safe sex and the older generation?

Quite honestly, I worry more about unintended pregnancy than I do about STDs which is probably bad, but I am still smart enough to at least suggest a condom.

Remember that one time I was stealthed?

Yeah, the guy took the condom from me then DIDN’T PUT IT ON and instead PULLED OUT AT THE EXACT WORST MOMENT SO THAT HE COULD COME ALL OVER MY BACK, thereby notifying me that I’d been duped into having sex without a condom?

Yeah, that’s a little bit what I’m talking about.

Of course, that behavior borderlines on criminal, I think.

So let’s set it aside for a minute.

What about the casual guy who just simply doesn’t like condoms?

The guy who isn’t worried about pregnancy (because maybe he is shooting blanks)?

I think it’s a generational thing.

Younger men don’t question condoms. They use them by the cartloads. They know – NO BABIES AND NO STDs.

Now, part of me think perhaps it’s not just that bareback sex FEELS better.

No.

Perhaps it’s because of “challenges in the plumbing department.”

What diminishes the sensation also can diminish. . . well, the “device.”

And Lord knows no one wants that to happen.

Then the fun is OVER.

For me, barebacking is for the guy who is a boyfriend. It’s for the guy I’m willing to go on birth control for.

It’s not for the casual hookup.

And it’s certainly not for the guy with criminal tendencies who is willing to TRICK me into doing it.

Call me crazy, but if I get a little skin on skin action, it’s gonna be with someone who I think has some sort of role in my life, when there’s birth control in place, and appropriate STD testing.

That’s just how I roll.

This kiss

My first kiss was with Don, at a high school dance my freshman year, out on the dance floor.

He went in for a kiss then slipped me the tongue and I was like, “WHAT DO I DO WITH THIS?!”

It shocked me and surprised me.

I was not expecting a kiss.

My fist REAL kiss I got from my ex-boyfriend in high school.

He leaned me up against his mustang and kissed me until my knees melted and he had to prop me up against his car.

It was THAT good.

That kiss has set the bar for kissing for most of my adult life.

Until recently.

I was sitting in a hot tub at my friends’ house when it happened.

A woman planted a kiss on me that made me TOTALLY RETHINK HOW I KISS.

It was wild.

Crazy.

Soft yet demanding.

Filled with passion.

I decided right then and there that this kiss was going to change how I kiss men in the future.

Now, I emulate that kiss over and over again when I’m making out with somebody.

I’m 44 years old, I have two kids, and I’m still learning the nuances of passion.

Long live lifelong learning!

Retired

If you thought that stinky feet were the only fetish I didn’t understand, you’d be wrong.

There are several which make no sense to me.

One of them is anal sex.

Honestly, unless you’re fresh from the shower and a few enemas, it’s really not all that appealing, is it?

Lately I’ve run into a smattering of men who are really interested in it.

And you know, I believe that unless I fall in love with a man who absolutely adores it, I don’t feel any strong pull to go ahead and participate in it.

I never say never, because I’ve had to eat my words too many times after saying that.

So there’s always the possibility that I might participate in it.

But really, all it reminds me of is needing to take an enormous poop.

I know some people love it.

And I can see the appeal.

Psychologically, it’s definitely “topping” someone when you “tap that ass.”

Truthfully, I don’t think I’d even worry about anyone asking me to have anal sex except for the fact that I’m single and we live in a world which is saturated in pornography.

So it’s in the minds of single men everywhere that they can ask for this and expect to get it.

Not here.

Not me.

I’m retired.

But this is a dilemma that I think many women face now.

Do you give in and make him happy despite your discomfort?

Or do you stand your ground and reject his attempts?

Consider this: there is a perfectly designed, warm, welcoming, self-lubricating, textured-for-both-your-pleasure chamber in which to place your sorcerer’s sword.

And you want to do what?

The vibrator to end them all

You can take the girl out of Catholic school but you can’t take the Catholic school out of the girl.

Or something like that.

At unSCruz, there was one itty bitty contraption that mesmerized me.

A standing vibrator.

Yes, you heard me right – A STANDING VIBRATOR.

Just along the side of the walkway, as I live and breathe.

I went in to get a closer look.

There was a fully clothed woman on it, and she and an “operator” were fine-tuning the vibrations.

It was wild to see it.

Now, I’ve heard about this vibrator before.

It has something of a reputation you see.

Apparently, it massages EVERYTHING.

And, given enough time, will result in an extraordinary climax.

Half of me wanted to try it.

Simply so I could report back and let you know what I thought of it.

But truthfully, it was always being used, so I never got a chance to ride it.

It was quite popular!

The other half of me thought, “Shouldn’t this be in a tent or something?”

It’s the Catholic girl in me who was shy about having a screaming orgasm where everyone could see.

Nevertheless, if I find it on playa I will have to test it out. . . because I’m curious like that.

Despite my Catholic sensibilities.

Prince Albert

I am a sneaky person.

Yes I am.

I may not have a poker face, but I sure as hell can be sneaky about some stuff.

For instance, nudity.

I like to think that I’m all blasé about it but in reality, I am not.

I think, “OH! A naked person!” and then my eyes drink up the sight of them, regardless if they are male, female, or non-binary.

But I don’t look outright.

No, that would be rude!

I SNEAK A PEEK.

Because staring is rude but a sneak peek is A-OK.

The other night, I snuck in a peek at a naked man and I saw something surprising.

A piercing through his junk.

Are they called Prince Alberts?

I think they are.

Well, he had one and it was there, clear as day.

He is the third man I’ve met with one of these piercings.

The first one is a casual friend who I met at a “lingerie” party.

The second man actually stuck a lock through his piecing and then walked around with bolt cutters asking people to cut it off.

OMG.

Now, I’m not clear on whether or not it enhances HIS PLEASURE during sex, but I think it’s safe to say it probably adds some extra friction for HER PLEASURE.

I’m not adverse to Prince Alberts.

I actually find them very interesting (though my experience is limited to visual not physical explorations).

Truthfully, it seems like a very easy way to lead a man around by his penis.

And I’ve always loved the idea of taking one with me.

On a leash.

Through his piercing.

Fondle my bunny tail

It’s been a while since I role played.

Like years.

It’s not that I have anything against it.

It’s just that usually I’m in such a hurry to GET BUSY that I don’t have the time to make up a story and act it out.

Not at all.

I lack that feminine detail, I guess.

I’m always running to the fucking finish line, oblivious that there’s actual beauty to be observed and enjoyed on the path there.

Well, etsy is now trying to encourage me to role play by selecting favorites that are. . . ummm. . .how can I put this?

Out of this world?

Well, out of this SPECIES to say the least.

I’m pretty sure all this happened because I was looking for bunny ears for the Pagan Bunny Burn.

Or maybe because I bought latex pasties for a costume.

Either way, I now have animal-themed leather BDSM masks popping up in my favorites.

Bunny.

Mouse.

Cat.

To tell you the truth, I WAS tempted by the bunny, but not because I want someone to scratch my belly and feed me carrots.

No.

More like because it adds a certain ELEMENT to my bunny costume.

A sort of wicked, let-me-tempt-you, fondle my bunny tail kinda way.

Hairpulling

There I am hanging with a pal when the subject of snuggling comes up.

Do I want to snuggle?

Hells yes!

Of course, I’m trying to behave myself so I grab a suitably large pillow, plunk it down in his lap, and start snuggling on the couch.

Ah!

This is nice.

My friend starts to randomly touch me and it’s kinda nice.

I giggle when he touches my lower back.

It tickles!

It then becomes apparent that he’s trying to help with my problem by providing me with a PG level snuggle.

I instantly escalated it to PG-13.

I say to him, “If you really want to do me a favor, pull my hair.”

He grabs fistfuls and pulls.

Ah!

I can’t tell you how much I LOVE to have my hairpulled.

It’s definitely a THING for me.

My favorite hairpulling memory involved me, a Swede, and some concurrent deep kissing.

This rivaled it not because there was kissing but because there was SO MUCH HAIRPULLING I thought I’d lost my mind.

Imagine 15 minutes of hairpulling.

It was AWESOME!

I gotta say, I sure love it when a friend comes through for me.

Giving up sex

So here’s The Deal.

I’m giving up sex for 3 months.

That means three months of no sex, not even a teeny little bit.

Not even the kind that doesn’t “count.”

This means I have to be celibate until January 7, 2018.

Now, there is one exception to this rule:

The Swede.

IF The Swede comes to visit, then my vow of abstinence goes on hiatus.

I rationalize it like this – The Swede happens to be the one HEALTHY friendship I have and therefore shouldn’t be included in my vow of abstinence, which is supposed to weed out the dirty boys and rebels.

I told Tejas about my vow and he just laughed and laughed.

Then he thought about how much bitching he will have to listen to and he STOPPED LAUGHING.

Personally, I think the biggest challenge for me isn’t going to be giving up sex.

No.

It’s going to be giving up the sexting and flirting that goes with it.

Because for me, flirting leads to sexting leads to sex IRL.

So we’re gonna have none of that.

Do you think I will survive?