Emotional Man


I met Emotional Man via craigslist. Only this time, it was in the run-of-the-mill relationship section instead of the casual encounters 😛 . His picture was very attractive, and to be honest, I didn’t expect a reply from him because I felt he was a bit better looking than me. 

But, he did reply. And then he texted. And then he called, and called pretty much every day until we met. 

He did live a ways away, but he came up to take me out to lunch near my house for our first meeting. We had a good time, and I felt comfortable bringing him to my apartment to look at the homemade still I had made for making moonshine. I had secretly been planning on moving back home to Colorado, and needed rid of it, and he had expressed interest in it. So, we spent the afternoon distilling moonshine on the stovetop and he agreed to buy the still from me. 

When I had met him, I didn’t expect anything to come of it. Why would I try and get into a serious relationship when I knew that in a few months’ time I’d be moving more than a thousand miles away? Surely, if anything, my recent experiences in the dating world were showing me that I wasn’t having much luck snagging anything but a steady FWB. 

But as we sat on my bed, sipping moonshine and wine, and talking about life, a connection was made. I suddenly felt bad for leading him on. I didn’t think I was going to care about the person sitting across from me, and maybe it was just the wine….but I did care. I had to tell him about Colorado. So, I did. And surprisingly, he didn’t mind. He said that he wouldn’t even mind moving if we worked out in the months that came before the move happened. 

He came over a few more times and soon enough we were officially bf/gf. He was even staying at my place and driving an hour each way to work every day. I had told my family he was moving home with me and he started moving things into my place and getting rid of things at his to prepare for the move. 

I was quite happy with him. He was very good looking, treated me well, cooked for me, helped me around the house, and our sex life was great. He loved being on top, which happens to be my personal favorite, and he seemed to be keeping up with my drive just fine. He was vocal enough and said things to me during sex, which I do love. Silent lovers always puzzle me…and there is something about a man’s voice, moans of pleasure, or dirty talk that just take me to a whole other level. 

His only real flaws were that he suffered from depression and anxiety, and refused to do anything about it. It got to the point that he had to have a drink or two at night to calm his mind enough to put him to sleep. I didn’t like the idea of spending so much money on alcohol, or the indicators of potential alcoholism that were evident, but most of all I was worried about the crippling effects of his anxiety and depression. It had caused him to miss work on more than one occasion, and I spent a lot of time comforting him over some irrational fears that he had. The latter part of this I didn’t mind. I’m a good comforter and listener and realize that being a man’s comfort is a vital part of any relationship…and I certainly needed a man to be my comfort from time to time as well. I feared that his issues would, however, affect his stability, and being the sole provider in a relationship wasn’t something I was willing to sign up for again. 

We seemed to get through it, though, and went along our happy way.

But one day something changed. Family had flown into Orlando and I spent a few days with them at Disney while Emotional Man watched my pets for me. He was upset he couldn’t come, of course, but this had been planned months ahead of time, and before we had met. 

When I returned, he greeted me with an angry look and a warm hug, and a remark about how much he had missed me. He went on to tell me that his ex had moved to North Carolina that weekend, and had been by to see him while I was gone. This I knew ahead of time because he had told me about it, and I didn’t worry about it too much because apparently since they had broken up, she decided to go lesbian or bisexual and had been seeing a girl. What he failed to tell me was that he had gone out drinking in town all night while I was gone, and that she had broken up with the girl. 

I wasn’t happy about it but chose to leave it be for the time being. 

But after a few days, I noticed his behavior was changing. He was in a grumpier mood, was texting more than usual, and something was just off. We were going to bed one night when he freaked out over the laundry and left me feeling very upset and sleeping on the floor in the other room. I had decided to find out what was going on. Once he was asleep, I took his phone and saw for myself what the reality was. And sure enough, the ex had been texting with him inappropriately, and even sending him explicit pictures. They were talking about me and every word of it made my stomach churn and my heart race and my blood boil hot with anger. 

I sat on the floor in the dark, pondering what to do. My mind went back to The Italian. I had once caught him with racy pictures of an ex and an ad on the casual encounters page of craigslist. He swore there was nothing to them, but later in the relationship, I’d walked in on him cheating on me. I remembered thinking in the aftermath of that relationship, that I should have walked away after finding those things on his phone and the computer. 

And so, in the middle of the night, I started stuffing his things into trashbags and throwing them on the bed. He groggily woke up. 

“What the hell are you doing?”

“We’re done”


“We’re done. That’s it. I want you out.”

“What are you talking about? Why?”

“You can’t think of a reason?”

“You read my texts, didn’t you?”


He angrily got out of bed and started moving his things. He took load after load down to his car, and didn’t say a word to me. I asked for my keys back and once he grabbed his last bag, I said,

“Don’t you have anything to say?”

“I don’t understand why you’re throwing me out. I didn’t do anything.”

“You cheated on me!”

“No I didn’t!”

“How do I know if that’s true? Those text messages were cheating enough for me.”

“You didn’t even ask me about them.”

“I don’t have to. I read enough.”

And with that, he left. I spent the next hour, wide-eyed with adrenaline, typing him a strongly worded email chewing him out for ever treating me like that. I’d never thrown anyone out before, and aside from being totally upset and wondering how I would tell everyone that, once again, I had another relationship crash and burn and that Emotional Man wasn’t moving back with me after all. 

I was pretty crushed after Emotional Man. He’d taught me I could love again and I had a strong connection with him. I wondered what he would do. He’d already bumped himself down to part time at his job to offset the cost of gas he’d been spending since moving in with me, and although he still had his place, he’d been slowly getting rid of all his things in order to move completely out. 

I found out within a few days that he intended to get back together with his ex. And, he decided to make it official over Facebook ON MY BIRTHDAY. 

That night I had been drinking with friends, and upon seeing the status update, called and left him a nasty voicemail. The next day I was so sick to my stomach that I called out of work. We’d been texting angrily that morning and I couldn’t even relax all day. I finally had some reprieve when a friend asked me to have dinner with her and her man. But then, he started texting me again. He was drinking and he was horny for me. He missed me and he was sorry. 

I didn’t believe any of it, of course, although the part of me that wanted him to come crawling back was overjoyed to see it. Then, I resolved to do something quite out of character. 

I wanted revenge. 

I wanted revenge on the girl who thought it was ok to sext and send racy pictures to my man. 

So I drove down to Emotional Man’s house. He let me in and was soft to me, though I made sure to be as bitchy as I’ve ever been in my life to him. And, we had sex. On the couch. Standing up. On the bathroom counter. And, on the bed. And this wasn’t like any kind of sex I’ve ever had before. It was revenge sex, yes, but it was very angry sex as well. I encouraged him to be rough with me, and we both said angry things to one another during the act. I quite enjoyed it. 

He soberly awoke in the middle of the night, saw me lying next to him, and got up, beating the walls. He knew what he had done and felt that he was screwing up his only rescue from his current situation…his ex. She would know I was there. She probably already did. He yelled at me a little bit, and when he finally calmed down, he shut the light off and climbed into bed, and fucked me again. This time even more angrily. 

“You weren’t supposed to come here,” he’d say, “you fucked everything up.”

The next morning, she called while I was still laying next to him. He said he’d have to call her back. She found out, of course, that I had been there and that we had fucked. And for some reason…she didn’t break up with him. She let it go. She even sent me a few passive aggressive remarks via text and I promised I would “take care of him for her” until he made it up to North Carolina to her. 

The affair continued for weeks. I enjoyed the rough and angry sex. He’d be on the phone with her with his hand in my bra while I laid on his couch. Once I even gave him head while she was on the phone. 

And I didn’t feel bad for any of it. 

She suspected, of course, that I might be by, and her way of controlling the situation was by calling him ad nauseam every day. It was to the point of obsession. She seemed more and more pathetic to me every day. They deserved each other. 

One day I think she finally had enough of the stress and pulled money together to get him up there. As she drove overnight to FL to meet with him and pick up things, I was there with him. And not a few hours before she arrived, we’d had our last round of sex. Only this last time, it was sad sex. He knew it was going to be the last time, and it was finally weighing on him that he’d never see me again. He loved both of us, apparently, and couldn’t even complete the act before bursting into tears. He bid me a tearful goodbye and gave me a long hug before he watched my car drive away until he couldn’t see it anymore. 

Throughout the months, he’s texted me. The two of them argue like crazy, and occasionally I got texts from her telling me to send him money because he was coming back to me in the middle of the night. Apparently, once he had, in fact, packed his car, but never made it very far. I’m too busy sleeping in the middle of the night to field text messages like that, anyways. He’d call and talk to me about how he wanted to come here, but couldn’t hurt her because she took him in, and stupid things like that. Once or twice I’d actually believed him and wanted to take him back if he’d change, but deep down I knew he wasn’t right for me. I let his texts go unanswered, and haven’t heard from him in some time now. Best for my heart to let it all go. 

But I do enjoy thinking back about the way I treated him…and knowing that I don’t always have to be everyone’s doormat or pushover. I can be a bitch, too….and it was a lot of fun, getting revenge and having rough, angry sex when it was well deserved. I stood up for myself, and that’s something I’ve promised to myself that I’ll never forget how to do. 

Breaking the Silence


A lot has happened since my last post. 

I silenced myself last year because I had gotten into a serious relationship, and besides thinking I might not have much exciting to talk about, I was worried that somehow that significant other might find my blog and flip their shit. 

I mean, I expect any man in my life to take me as I am, and realize that he’s not going to be the only one I’ve ever been with. But, surely he needn’t be privy to painful and explicit details about my intimate encounters with other men. 

But the truth is, the guy I silenced myself for didn’t end up lasting. I’ve recently come to the place again in my life where I’ve been left confused and needing a little confessional therapy in my life. I don’t have many people I share intimate details of my sex life with, and sometimes those details can be really exciting! Maybe, like a man, I enjoy holding up a little sex trophy of the latest hot guy or steamy encounter I got myself into. 

So, for the time being, I’m back. 

Mr. Skinny is who we’ll call the man who inspired me to go into silence. We had gotten together last year and things seemed to be going well….we had made the relationship official and consummated it, of course. He had an infant daughter who had been over to my place and it seemed our lives were beginning to intertwine.

But then one day out of the blue, he shut me out. He didn’t return my calls or texts, and I went for near a week before I sent him an email officiating the break-up and conveying my sentiments about deserving an explanation. 

I wouldn’t get one until at least a week later. He had said he had sunken into some kind of depression, and was coming to grips with a few lies he had told me. The first was that he lived in Florida. Now, this was a stupid lie. He had told me he lived very near the FL/GA border, just on the FL side. In reality, he lived just on the GA side. For some reason, he thought that living in another state was some kind of deal breaker for me…even though GA wasn’t even far away. The other was that he had his own apartment. In reality, he was living in a mother-in-law type cottage that was on his mother’s property. Why this would make a difference was beyond me. 

In all honesty, I was a little relieved that things ended quickly. I was becoming privy to a few things about him that made me nuts. He didn’t clean out underneath his fingernails very much, and that I find repulsing. The other thing was his aversion to deodorant. He hadn’t smelled bad or anything when we first started seeing each other, but once I had seen him on a hot day when he obviously hadn’t showered…and I even mentioned to him that he smelled “ripe” that day. Apparently it hurt his feelings, but really? I’d want to know if I was grossing out the person I was seeing, and probably anyone else within smelling distance. 

This breakup was actually pretty easy for me to process, and I was glad to see that everything in the world wasn’t breaking my heart as I thought it might. 

He sent me a text or two some time later, and sparse communication dwindled into nothingness with ease. 

It was some time later that I started seeing Emotional Man.


Cleaning up my act

I’ve decided it’s time to clean things up. I’ve truly enjoyed blogging and connecting on here about my endeavors in relationships and the bedroom, but I think it’s time to hang up this hat.

Why, you ask?

Well, I’ve gotten serious. With a guy, that is. That’s right….Miss Sexcapade has a boyfriend. I’ve been quiet these last few weeks and I think all the shenanigans in my life have led up to this point. I found myself sometimes thinking….I better have sex soon, so I have something to write about. 

And that certainly wasn’t the point of this whole thing. Plus, there was an emptiness that came with all the care-free sex I had with all those FWBs. Before I met my now boyfriend, I had texted each of them letting them knew I had a boyfriend….in order to get rid of them without hurting their feelings. And, it was a convenient lie for me to stop the cycle of hurt that I was going through.

Turns out, less than a week later, I met the new guy who would become my bf and eventually that lie became true. The only pushback I’ve had is from Highway Guy, who has called me and stated he didn’t see why me having a bf didn’t mean we couldn’t still be friends. I wasn’t terribly interested in it, particularly after his sister had texted me and told me he had gotten into some pretty bad stuff, stolen money, got kicked out of his parents’, and was likely on drugs.

Not really a situation I dig hanging around.

Anyways, I realized this blog was destined to failure once I had a bf. I’m not willing to share intimate details about my new relationship on here. I guess a real relationship is just more sacred to me.

The second part to this is, if my new beau were to stumble into this blog, he’d probably be more than a little shocked. I’m not trying to hide who I am or anything, but I do believe intimate details of encounters I’ve had with others would hurt his feelings more than a little. They would hurt mine if the tables were turned.

So, I have to bid this blog goodbye. This will be the last posting I make on The Great Sexcapade.

It’s bittersweet, but I’ve enjoyed every minute of it. I’ve sincerely enjoyed all the connections I’ve made with all of you.

So, for now, this vixen bids you adieu. 🙂



The deed has been done. I took his 30 year old virginity.

As I write this, I wonder if he finds himself smiling randomly today. Does he walk with a new spring in his step? Will his coworkers notice something different about him?

Originally, I wouldn’t have been able to see Cat Guy last night. I had plans to go out with a work friend for their birthday, but that ended up falling through (which was a shame, because I had been looking forward to it for weeks!).

Suddenly I was free. I texted Cat Guy and let him know that my schedule suddenly opened up. And he was oh-so-eager to fill that empty slot. 😉

“Movies, cuddles, and beer?” he asked.

“Your place or mine?” I replied.

We settled on his place because I wanted him to be as comfortable as possible. We both knew that the only reason he still had his V was because he got anxiety in the past and wasn’t able to keep up for the task at hand. I picked up a few 6 packs, knowing that I’d be a little bit nervous myself (this being our first time and very anticipated), showered, and headed over.

He had a nice place. I could tell that he makes good money and is tidy. I could also tell a single man lived there. There were no female touches – no art on the walls…everything very nice, but plain. He had car parts here and there from his many modifications, and a few nerdy things that reflected the geek that I knew existed within him–his self-built computer, star wars books and a video game character figurine.

These types of things may scare some women off, but they don’t bother me. I gravitate to nerds and am a self-professed nerd myself. I don’t get into things quite as much as Cat Guy does, but I thought it was cute.

He popped in a movie, and we cracked open a couple beers. Immediately upon sitting down next to him, he threw his arm around me and pulled me into him. I noticed that instead of sitting in his everyday armchair, he sat on the couch with room enough for me on one side. I wondered how long he had spent planning that out. He obviously didn’t want to sit in his favorite chair and have me out of reach.

We got about halfway through the movie when he pulled my hair aside and thrust a hand into my shirt, feeling my breast. I allowed him that, and quickly tried to down more beer.

Not long after, he took my empty second bottle and placed my hand onto his lap, suggesting my next move. I pet him for a bit, he let it out of its fabric cage and I pet it some more.

When the movie was over, he invited me to retire into the bedroom.

He stripped down and climbed into bed. He has a great body, and wasn’t ashamed to show it off.

I, on the other hand, was all too focused on the bright lights still on in the room. I pulled off a layer and left the rest on. “I’ll let you take those off,” I kidded. We cuddled and started in. My clothes weren’t on for long. Cat Guy is an aggressive lover, though not overly so. I had to remind him later on to be gentle with my nipple rings, but for the most part I enjoyed his fervor. He fumbled a bit with my bra, delighted at my lace panties, and went down on me as soon as he got them off.

He was gentle, then rough. We took turns exchanging oral. At one point he had me in an upside-down 69 position that I had never tried before.

It was quite similar to this very nice art (please see link below picture), but I rested my shoulders on the edge of the bed for some stability. It was pretty hot. I felt totally exposed, spread eagle, but there wasn’t much for me to do in the well-lit room but get over it and enjoy it, which I did. He seemed pleased with my body, despite its non-conformities.

Number 17 - Spread Eagle. From one of my favorites, Chicago.

Number 17 – Spread Eagle. From one of my favorites, Chicago.

He had been in a mostly/semi-hard state for most of the play, and when I got him rock hard, it was time. He knew it, and I invited him to enter. Dirty talk abounded, which he knew I liked.

The whole time I could tell he was very nervous. He didn’t overtly act it, but while I had been playing with him, my head rested on his chest, and his very rapid heartbeat couldn’t conceal his anxiety. A few other small things gave him away, but for the most part he was very turned on, and wanted to try lots of things.

I handed him a condom (He didn’t have any. I suppose were I in his shoes, I may not have any either. He knew I had a Mirena installed, so I suppose he figured everything was all good). He put it on and attempted first entry.

I don’t know if the condom made things worse, or if the moment of dreaded anticipation hit him, but he couldn’t get in. I was too tight and he wasn’t hard enough. He got discouraged.

“This is what normally happens,” he confessed sadly.

“It’s ok. We have all night. Come here,” I pulled him up and started making out with him. He was a good kisser. I wanted to ease his worries so he could focus on the task at hand, and I think I succeeded. We played a little more, I pulled the floppy condom off of him, and made for the rock-hardness I had achieved before. I had only brought the one, and threw it on the floor in reckless abandon.

Within a few minutes he was hard enough for penetration once again. I tried to make it quick, thinking that once he got in there, his anxiety would ease and the issue would be over. This time, I quickly lay on the edge of the bed, spread wide, and he entered.

He made it in. I stared into his face, identifying the pleasure that beamed from him accompanied by a moan. The loss of his virginity—all those years gone in one pleasureful, anxiety-filled moment.

A few short thrusts and he came out again. He was learning a lesson you could only learn from experience – angles. It was a lesson he would learn again later on in the night when he tried the from-behind-standing position, which didn’t work out the way he wanted because I am taller than he is and he didn’t understand the way that the vagina naturally angles back.

He was frustrated after those first few precious thrusts. I smiled at him.

“You did it!” I congratulated, smiling.

He beamed, smiling wide and with pure happiness, “I did it!” I’d never seem him smile that huge before. He’s normally very mild-mannered and I daresay, reserved.

He decided after a little more play that we should take a breather. He pulled me under his arm to cuddle. I enjoyed laying next to him and observing. After a little bit of rest, he was ready once again, and I used my hands to get him up. And then, I climbed aboard.

This time he really let out a moan. I can’t imagine how it feels for the first time for a guy. Especially for him. I rode him for a while, listening to him gasp in pleasure. He wasn’t used to the feeling of accidentally popping out or changing angles, and they surprised him. Once again, it was the angles that were plaguing him. In a few minutes I was on the edge of the bed again, face up, and he, standing, got to work on me. This felt awesome. Cat Guy has a really nice piece of equipment, as I noted once I saw it up and going. I moaned and he put his hand over my mouth, fearing that the neighbors would hear. I couldn’t help myself.

I think back on his nervousness about noise, and chuckle. He’ll have to come over to my place next time where I don’t have to worry about shutting up, which is so unnatural to me. But it’s also a good representation of who he is. A little shy and quiet. Once you get to know him, however, he is very personable and likable, and perfectly normal.

I climbed on him one more time, and asking him to stop pushing against me, flexed atop him. They’re basically kegels with him inside, but I knew it was nothing he’d ever felt before, and I wanted to surprise him with it. He seemed enthralled and asked me if I had orgasmed. I was honest, as I always am.

He came after that, stroking it out with my assistance. I spent the night next to him, and for the first time in a long time, I had trouble sleeping. I had a lot on my mind. When I was in college, and had men spend the night for the first times, I was never able to sleep. I was either too excited or nervous. As the years rolled on, I got used to having a man next to me in bed, and lately, it’s not been a concern or distraction of mine at all. I don’t know if it was because of Cat Guy, or because I was sober and in a new place, but I had a hard time sleeping.

We woke in the morning, and Cat Guy spooned me, pushing his hips against mine until I, feeling his morning wood, ground into him like a sideways lapdance. It about drove him nuts, and we shared a few positions in the morning. I could tell he was getting more confident and at ease, because it was easier to get him up and he was staying in longer. He came once more, and helped me to get off after that.

We talked for some time about different things, and I decided that I should head out in case he was ready for me to go. I don’t think he would have kicked me out on his own, but we hadn’t had plans to do anything, and I could tell he didn’t sleep very well because he was moving a lot in his sleep, too. I wanted to give him time to digest everything and get used to what it is like, having a woman over for sex.

I looked at him, eyes staring into mine across the pillows, and asked him how he felt.

“Good,” he said.

“Do you feel different?” I probed.

“Um, not really…” he said, unconvincingly.

“Well, you should,” I winked.

He grinned from ear to ear with a smile that lingered and betrayed his words. I got dressed and he walked me out. I kissed him at the door and headed home.

I’m sure he is feeling great today, and I can’t help but smile and feel a little powerful, having been the first to succeed with sex for a 30 year old (no longer) virgin.

“I had fun, sexy bear. I hope everything was as you hoped it would be :),” I texted when I returned home.

“It was very delightful, little vixen. Thank you for helping rid me of a stigma that has haunted me for so long.

These words still echo in my mind. They make me feel good about this. I feel like I did something awesome for Cat Guy.

“It was my pleasure. Watch yourself that you don’t become a man whore now. lol,” I said.

“Haha. I’ll keep my pants on for the most part.”

“Well I’d be happy to do more de-pantsing with you anytime.”

“Yay! I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.”

I asked him what it was like for him.

“It was nerve wracking. But that’s because I was so nervous. But it was good. Your….”

…I’ll omit the racy private praises of my lady parts. 🙂

I encouraged him and told him he was great. I made sure during the act to praise his oral skills and remind him that things weren’t a race when he was frustrated and that we had all the time we wanted. He affirmed to me that I made things easy to enjoy, and I’ll take that as a mission accomplished on that front.

I had no expectations for sex with Cat Guy, and I half expected him to be a one minute man. He strove to please me, mounted his fears (and me) and exchanged one dirty little secret for a happier one. I expect our subsequent visits will come ever easier for Cat Guy, and I’ve much more to reap from the gift I gave and received from Cat Guy.

I ponder now if there will be any emotion repercussions for him. Will he grow attached? I have found myself over the last week or so focusing on him. The idea of taking him was such a turn on for me, and the excitement between us had grown so strong, that I found myself flippant about any of my other FWBs. I wasn’t interested. I wanted to spend my night off with Cat Guy. And he ended up doing much better than I expected.

We shared a few moments of unbridled passion during the night. The most touching, for me, was the eye contact we shared. It wasn’t fake and it wasn’t one-dimensional. We shared a locked gaze during both sex and our pillow talk that abandoned all sense of timidity. Sometimes I’ve found it’s hard to lock eyes with a person. It’s like looking into the sun – you can’t do it very long before you look away. I’m not sure if that is a sign of self-consciousness or just plain shyness, but Cat Guy and I locked eyes with a connection that didn’t break. He wasn’t shy about it and I locked onto his eyes as much as he did mine.

Time will tell how Cat Guy’s relationship with me changes or doesn’t. In the meantime, I’ll muse over what joys he might be feeling, and how they might manifest themselves into his daily life. I’ll live in the notion that I’ve been his hero today, and that he’ll always remember me as his first. 🙂

The 30 year old virgin

I can’t say that I’ve ever had sex with a virgin. Not that I knew about at least. Every guy I have been with has either been older than me or I knew that they were no stranger to sex, or both.

So I wondered, how is any male over the age of let’s say…20, just to be safe….still a virgin? Ok, maybe there are those smelly kids that don’t leave their mom’s basement because they are too busy playing WOW to do anything but jack off to hentai in their ten minutes of time that they aren’t spending showering.

But I don’t run into those guys. Probably not many people run into those guys aside from the employees at GameStop.

All the guys I usually sleep with are dripping with sexuality. And they know what they’re doing in the sack.

A few months back, I went on a serious date with a man. This was before my Sexcapade days, when I was actually looking for a meaningful relationship. I’ve mentioned him very briefly before, but I’ve dubbed him Cat Guy. He’s got two cats, and I have one myself, so it’s been a talking point of ours since we met. He’s a cool guy – very nice. He bought my beers on our first date and we spent quite some time talking about shared interests, of which we have quite a few. He’s an inch or two shorter than me, has a very stable job in IT – his own place, nice car….you know, all the good qualities. Except that he wasn’t very religious at all, and relationship-wise, this was a problem for me.

He pretty much got put in the friend zone because of this and his height. But for a while I kept in contact with him, wanting to see if he was interested in me or not. We all want to be wanted, don’t we? I was also fresh on the market, so an interested party, or at very least, not being totally rejected, was important to me.

We texted on an off for a few weeks, and it slowly dwindled to not at all. I did text him after about 3 months of silence, and he met me short-notice for some beers the night that I went over to see Highway Guy. I pondered for a moment on why he so eagerly met me after not talking to me for so long…he had mentioned that he often relied on women to set the pace of things and basically to show him if they were interested. I told him this puzzled me because I did the same thing myself, only with guys. Which pretty much had put us both at a confused impasse. It was no matter. I was quickly too distracted with Highway Guy to spend any more of my mental capacity on Cat Guy.

But lately he’s been texting me. Just randomly. About his cats, or how am I doing…things like that. And he always initiates them.

Well, tonight he messaged me.

“My legs are soooo sore from the gym.” He had told me how he had started a very rigorous gym routine. He said he had been overweight in the past and in the past few years had striven to improve his health and appearance. You could tell. He looked healthy, and it seemed as if his muscles were getting a bit bigger the last time I saw him.

“Awh, poor thing,” I replied.

“Yes, fix it,” he said.

“Um. Well. Gimme about 4 years in med school and I’ll come back with some replacements for you,” I joked.

“But I have to work tomorrow,” he whined,”Corset-y pictures will help!”

What he was referring to was a picture I had put up on my now closed profile of myself in a Poison Ivy Halloween costume, which included a corset, I had made a few years back.

He’s asking for racy pics? I thought to myself.

Well, this was new. Even though we had been out a few times, we have never crossed into the sexy realm. I never really saw him in that light. He seemed very straight laced and professional….not that we all don’t have a horny side, but how did we go from friends who went 3 months in silence to now randomly asking me for smutty pics?

My inner nerd felt like Han Solo jumping into hyperspace.

The conversation went on, and I received a picture from him of his endowment. I joked how men always love to show off their equipment. And, they do! It’s like they don’t care who sees their junk! I wouldn’t send out pictures of my vag to random strangers on the internet, let alone people I’ve only known for a little while! And yet here he was, asking for some of me.

I sent a few sexy but not smutty pics. He enjoyed them but wanted more. I told him I thought his equipment looked nice.

“It’s not impressive,” He said.

“It’s not about size, my dear,” I comforted.

“Oh don’t worry, I don’t know how to use it either. Everyone is disappointed.”

He must have been joking, I thought. But he repeatedly kept saying it.

“Why do you say that? I don’t believe you,” I said.

“Haha, I’m not lying unfortunately. 30 year old virgin.”


Surely he must have been joking. It was April Fool’s Day, after all. I’d been on my guard all day.

But he wasn’t.

We talked about how he hadn’t dated until more recently because he wasn’t attractive until recently…and then whenever the opportunity presented itself…..get this….he couldn’t stay up because he was so nervous. 

So….I thought….here was the answer to all those guys who I was having issues with. It really wasn’t me. Anxiety had gotten the better of them.

He was embarrassed, he said, but he had eaten girls out, just hadn’t gone any farther than that. I asked him what his motive was with me. Up until this point in the conversation, I had told him that I was willing to go that route with our friendship if he wanted to. Now I was wondering how he felt about me….besides turned on, which I had no clue about up until now.

He didn’t want to date. He was happy with our friendship but if I wanted to sleep with him too, that would be great. I couldn’t agree more, which I’m sure doesn’t come as a surprise.

We talked for most of the night, exchanged some dirty pics and talk, and I guess we did what is now the modern day version of what started as phone sex, turned cyber sex, turned sexting. We were both comfortable in our own homes and took care of business with the help of a few raunchy photos and dirty texts.

For a guy who’s never had sex, he sure had in mind all the things he wanted to do. I’m sure 15+ years of watching porn will do that to a guy. But he was good at knowing what to say, too. And I daresay he is going to be dominant in the sack. When we both have a day off, we  are going to do this. I’m going to give him a go and….


What does this mean to a guy? I’m sure it’s thrilling, but emotionally? Is he going to get stuck on me? I’m sure we will have lots of sex–he’s going to be eager to try everything with me once I get him out of his anxiety shell. But I told him I was willing, and that we should get drunk together. We did like to drink together already, but it definitely takes the edge off when it comes to nervousness, and hopefully with our situation he will already be a little more comfortable, knowing the pressure of a potential relationship is not there.

I’m interested to see what happens. It’s funny these things just fall into my lap. He had NO IDEA that I’ve been only wanting FWBs. He didn’t know I was a little vixen with pictures on my phone to share. I was the wholesome girl he’d been on a couple serious dates with.

I asked him why he asked me for the photos…he said he didn’t know. Maybe there has been no one else on the line for him lately….or maybe I’m dripping with sexuality and didn’t quite realize it.

Well, now we’re in it. I’m looking forward to what I might be writing about him next time. I’ll be asking him questions, too, about what it’s like for him. The cutest thing is that we’ve nicknamed each other tonight. I’m a fan of nicknames and some years ago took up calling people (even strangers) things like honey or hun or sugar. I had told him earlier in the night that he could call me his little vixen – meaning, of course, that I was willing to be his sex friend…but also subliminally, I’d love for a man to call me that. We just stopped texting when I sat down to write, but I had told him, “goodnight, sexy bear,” to which he replied, “sleep tight, little vixen.”

That made me smile.

Well now you’re just showing off.

I’ve been out of town and all over the map this past week, so this story comes out a little late. Thankfully, in my soberness, I’ve remembered all the details.

The Marine came  over weekend before last, and I was thankful for it because I was going out of town and knew that I couldn’t get into any shenanigans because my family was coming to visit. I guess I wanted a little fuel in the love tank to keep me going through the week.

He had texted me that he got off early from work, and if I was available, he’d head over. I quickly hopped in the shower and shortly thereafter he was at my door.

It was the same old thing for the first few hours. We always lay on the bed and talk and play a little bit on our phones together (games and whatnot). This time I got to play with Siri on his iphone, which I had never done before because I’m an android and PC girl through and through. It was fun! As a matter of fact, Siri is the only reason I would consider getting an iphone.

But anyways, we talked. And talked some more. He made fun of me for falling asleep talking to him last time – which I denied – but he said I made cute little noises, and then I woke up again. But, the fact that he keeps me up talking until 4 am may have something to do with the alleged falling asleep! Don’t get me wrong – I enjoy his company – but eventually I want to get into things, you know? Like his pants.

So I did. I initiated, as usual. But he didn’t seem as into it. He didn’t seem to want to kiss me back when I started kissing him. I got confused. And eventually, I told him he confused me, and I wasn’t sure if he liked it or not that I initiated things, because I always do. He didn’t really say anything to make me feel better, so I rolled over and pouted–maybe just a little. I backed into him and told him to spoon me. He pretended he didn’t know how to spoon. I just ignored him and tried not to think about how upset I was in that moment.

I felt rejected. I felt ugly. I felt like he wasn’t attracted to me. I audibly said how I was used to men taking what they wanted from me, and not waiting for me to make a move or something.  I didn’t care at that point if he left or not. I didn’t know what he was going to do next or when he was going to get up and excuse himself, but I figured it was coming, especially given my mood and the fact that I now wanted to cry.

Eventually, I dozed off. And what I awoke to was surprising.

He was running his hands all over me, and pushing his hard cock and hips against me from behind. He grabbed onto my tits, ran his hands into my panties and felt me up very aggressively.

Certainly, I couldn’t help but accept with pleasure.

Eventually I was naked and he went down on me. He went down on me long enough to bring me to orgasm. And, one can tell when I do orgasm. He knows how to read me and he knows how to tell when I’ve cum. My legs then relaxed and my hips shied back into the bed as he continued to tickle me.

And then….he just kept going. He wanted to get another one out of me. 

And he did! Now, I thought to myself, he is just showing off. He knew how to get me to orgasm. And he was flaunting it tonight. Eventually he came up and worked into me, every thrust feeling better and better, being very sensitive post-orgasm. I was happy with him, and wanted to reciprocate, so I pushed him over with my thighs and rode him until he exploded.

I fetched a towel for the both of us, and there was a quick clean up and he was dressed again.

“Sorry, but I’m really hungry, I have to get something to eat,” said the night shift-er.

“Ok”. I walked him to the door, kissed his cheek, and he headed out.

“Text me later,” he said as he left.

Puzzled, I’ve been. What is all this about? I really enjoyed this sex….but how the night went was really strange. I’ve yet to analyze this, but I think I’ll just leave it as is. Maybe next time he comes over I’ll fall asleep earlier. LOL!

Men have feelings, too.


Yes, they do. Though, I’ve found they are exceedingly good at hiding them from most women. In fact, I think men’s feelings are probably the most well-hidden thing on the planet.

Yesterday I hung out with Highway Guy. I had texted him over the weekend, with no reply. I understood it was St. Patty’s weekend and he was probably busy working. I resolved to not text him for a week and see if he texted me.

Of course, that resolution lasted all of two days. Monday night, and I had the next day off. I still had moonshine in the fridge I hadn’t gotten to taste yet, and I wanted to try it with someone else. Specifically, I wanted to try it with him.

“Want to drink with me?” I hit send.

Some time later, he actually responded. Turns out a few texts in, I misunderstood a “you can’t hang” text as a rude denial, when he was actually joking, saying something along the lines of “lol, I can drink more than you”. I’ve reached the point where I kind of feel like I walk on thin ice with him. I’m not sure why. I’ve gotten anxious about everything I do and say with him. I’ve gotten tactical, which is never a good thing. I always overthink things and accidentally take them to the next level. Case in point- taking this text too seriously. Although, in my defense, it was a misleading text. He made sure to correct the misunderstanding, and I made some jokes to cover it up. Hey, girls being silly and misunderstanding things is cute, right?

I asked him if he wanted to come to my place, and he said he didn’t want to drive. His responses were taking forever, so I decided to call. No answer.

WTF! I was willing to drive up there and stay the night, since he undoubtedly had class the next day, but I wasn’t going to drive all the way across town without a confirmation from him.

“Answer your damn phone!” I texted.

Eventually I gave up. It was getting late and I took my clothes off and laid in bed. Which, of course, is the recipe for an instant response.

He called and apologized, saying he had been getting into it with his baby momma for the last hour or so, which accounted for his spotty responses and unanswered call. He wanted me to come up there. So, I did. As I drove the ~30 minute drive to his place, I thought about his tone on the phone. I told him I was sorry he had gotten in a long argument with the baby momma, and he said that was pretty much how it was these days. I hadn’t wanted to push for information or anything, so I pretty much just left it at that. But I couldn’t help feeling sorry for him. I didn’t envy his situation. And he sounded maybe a little depressed. So, when I got there, I gave him a big hug. I don’t normally hug him when I walk in, but he almost anticipated it, and probably wanted or needed one, and accepted heartily.

We cracked open the shine and talked a little bit with his sister.

Last week Highway Guy told me how his sister’s beau had been getting on his nerves after about a two week stay at their place. I knew the beau was kind of a bum, though I didn’t really know the extent of it. When I was over there last, Highway Guy had been teasing him more than just a little, and whenever he got cozy with the sister in front of us, he told him to knock it off. I could tell that Highway Guy had a short fuse for him, but as we sipped our shine, the sister let out that she was really upset that Highway Guy had treated her beau that way last time. In fact, the beau had gotten to the point that he thought Highway Guy wanted to fight. The beau had left for a week and was on his way to the house as we spoke.

Highway Guy was mad that he was called out by his sister, and what he said next kind of surprised me.

“So, basically, you’re mad at me. Cause it’s either me or him that was right, and it’s not looking like you think it’s me! It’s either me or him who was right!” he said to his sister.

I was surprised because he basically made it out like she had to choose between her beau and her brother. He reminded her that she challenged all of the girls that he brought around just as much as he challenged the dudes she brought to the house too. It’s what siblings do – they look out for one another.

I piped in, being in the middle of all of it, saying, “I think she was just saying you should back off a little because last time it made her upset.”

The sister had clammed up and Highway Guy reiterated it was either he or the beau who was right. I then said I was just going to stay out of it. Actually, I was proud of myself for saying that, because I often try to be the peacemaker or counselor in any uncomfortable situation. It’s led to my demise in relationships before, too. I always give in and compromise with an uncompromising or selfish partner in order to make peace.

Highway Guy eventually disappeared while I had a little small talk and shared a few online funnies with the sister. She eventually wondered where he went for so long, and went looking.

“He’s just chilling in his room I guess.” I took it to mean she was upset and tired (I had gotten there at midnight) and could use some alone time before the beau showed up.

I went to Highway Guy’s room. The door was locked. What?

When I knocked, he answered.

“What are you doing?” I asked, concerned.

“I’m just chilling”

“Is everything ok?”

“Yeah, I’m just chilling.”

I could hear the lie in his tone of voice. He was obviously upset. A little drunk, yes, but this was not the normal, energetic drunk Highway Guy that I had come to know. I’d never seen him like this. The only inkling of the person I was now seeing laying on the bed alone I had seen once before.

It was another night I was drinking with them, and the sister and her beau were hitting on me. That’s right, hitting on me. Now, a little drunken kiss with a girl is not something I’m a stranger to. But, I had a problem with the sibling of someone I was fucking hitting on me, too. It was a little too Jerry Springer and weird for me. In fact, I had overheard one night the beau and her conversing – “….I thought you wanted to fuck her?” my ears still resound of a conversation not meant for them to hear. It was the sister saying it to the beau. I figured she maybe was trying to get me in on a menage-et-trois because the beau had wanted it. Hell, maybe she did a little, too.

Sorry, but I wasn’t into it. I was happy enough fucking Highway Guy, and staying off of daytime white trash drama TV shows.

Anyways, that one night they were flirting with me on the deck, I could see Highway Guy behind the sliding glass door, pacing a little and then retiring to his bedroom, having seen the goings-on through the sliding glass himself. Perhaps he thought he had lost my attention. That’s how it appeared that night. I eventually said something to the sister about him looking sad, and made a point to get him out and hanging with us. I guess it worked because he snapped out of that mopey state and of course I had gone to bed with him that night.

But that was only like a 5 minute episode. And, he’d seen me looking depressed there before, too. Remember the beau making fat comments to me and my hiding to “pet their cat”?

Depression is not something I’m a stranger to. I’ve battled with it since I was 13. I was diagnosed then, and refused any medication. College was a really hard time for me, trying both to find myself and become an independently functioning individual, and parties and alcohol wasn’t helping the situation then. I’ll credit the angels I had for friends for keeping me afloat for those years in my life.

I gave in to medication when my ex-husband was deployed to Iraq. Life was hard, we were fighting, and the stress of him being gone just got to me too much. I had angels around me this time, too, but for one reason or another, I couldn’t do it on my own this time. It was the only time in my life that I had had trouble sleeping, too. Being on antidepressants just made that worse, too. It seems to me that once you take one medication, it just leads to others to quell the side effects of the first, until every day you are taking a cocktail of prescriptions, just to fix something that you could have fixed a little more holistically in the first place. But, that’s a theory for another blog. Eventually I came off the Celexa and cope with my depression on my own once again.

The point I’m trying to make here is that I know depression when I see it. And I saw it in Highway Guy, laying pathetically in his bed and claiming it was just that he was drunk.

I tried a few times to get him to talk. I was sure it had something to do with the baby momma, and then his sister’s rejection of what was an expression of his brotherly protection over her. But, he clammed up and didn’t budge. He did mention to me that he was moving in a week. Turns out, he will be closer to my house, which is wonderful for me. But, he is moving back home to save some money. I couldn’t help but wonder if the situation with the sister had anything to do with the choice.

When he had texted me earlier that night saying he wasn’t going to drive, it was because he had no gas money to get him there and back. It was becoming apparent that he had been trying to hide how much of a poor college student he really was.

I don’t blame him. If the tables were turned, I’d do the same thing. I think the fact is intensified because of our genders. And, he has a child to look out for. We talked for some time about money. I told him I wanted to be clear that I understood. I’d been there. And I’m older now and stable, so driving across town really wasn’t a big deal to me. I didn’t mind doing it, or buying him a pack of cigarettes if he really needed it.

He had made a sandwich later in the night, and confessed that it needed to last him, because there really wasn’t any food in the house. I had noticed their fridge was normally pretty empty. Mine gets that way sometimes, too, but more because I’m single than because I’m too broke to fit some grocery money into my budget. I told him that it was a good thing he would be closer to my house in a week, because we would be hanging there instead now, and I always had food.

“Yeah,” he said, as if he had already considered that fact.

I felt bad for Highway Guy. He was trying his best. I could always see that since I had gotten to know him. I sent him a text this morning letting him know that even though his house was far from mine, he was always welcome here for a meal if he was hungry. After all, I like to cook for others and don’t get the opportunity to do it.

He didn’t respond. It’s probably a little bit of a hit to a man’s ego. I’ve always heard that relationships where women make more money than their men often have issues. I understand that men have a need to provide, and when they aren’t the majority provider, it can cause feelings of insecurity in the man. I’ve also seen relationships where this didn’t make a lick of difference, but I do believe that man, at his core, needs to be the provider.

At least, Highway Guy is a provider for his daughter, and hopefully he finds satisfaction in that to quell whatever feelings our cougar-esque relationship brings him.

After we talked a little, I cuddled onto his chest.

“You’re falling asleep,” I told him.

“No I’m not,” he mumbled, almost incoherently.

“You think I haven’t seen someone fall asleep before? You’re falling asleep! I’m going to give you a nurple!!!!” I said, pinching his nipple.

“Nooo!” he said. I played with it gently. He seemed to be enjoying it.

“You should play with something a little further south.”

I stuck my finger in his belly button.

He laughed. “No, more south!!”

He had a big erection waiting for me. I forced him to shower for me when he confessed he hadn’t showered all day. I told him I had for him, so it was only fair. He complied and sex ensued. I made out with him for a while. Normally I don’t like doing this during casual sex, but I wanted it this time. And, he was a good kisser. I didn’t recall this about him. That could be because I’m normally plastered when we screw.

“I like the way you kiss,” I whispered between kisses.


“Do we normally do this?” I asked.

“I don’t know.”

The kissing went on passionately and I played with his neckline, which turns out to be just as sensitive as mine. Aha…a weak spot.

I gently ran my fingers over his body, coming oh-so-close to his manhood but never actually touching it.

“Tease,” he called me.

“You like it,” I retorted.

“Maybe a little.”

I gave him a handy-J and we shared several positions before he came in the hardest way. I was on top and he gazed so strongly into my eyes while I worked into him. He had some compulsion to say my name during sex recently, and I’ll admit that I kind of enjoyed it. Trouble is that all of the gazing and name-gasping made me feel like we had more of a personal connection this time–the fact that I may have rescued him from a potential night of self-loathing and depression notwithstanding.

This time and the last he must have been waiting for me, because he was incredibly sensitive afterwards, and it was a one-shot session rather than the two or three I was used to with him. I cleaned up and cuddled in and we fell asleep. In the morning he was up for class and walked me to my car, as usual. He kissed me and said goodbye. This time I noticed how very flirty he was when he said he’d hit me up later. In his tone and the way he looked at me, his body language, all of it. I either never noticed it before, or it was so exaggerated this time that I actually said something.

“You’re such a flirt! I never noticed that before!”

“What, it’s just the way I talk!” He said, walking away, smiling. I blew him a kiss from my car as I drove by. He smiled at that, too, waving back.

I hope that he had a better day today. My parents will be coming to visit me this coming weekend, so I may or may not be seeing him for a while. But, I will be thinking of him. We all know how dangerous that is, so I agreed to have the Hotel Bartender over today. I tend to fill my life with experiences with other men to distract me from the guy I keep thinking about.

Aside from that, The Hotel Bartender was skilled at giving me orgasms, and I was long overdue for one. And I wasn’t disappointed. The Hotel Bartender never lingers when he comes over. He doesn’t have as cute of a face as Highway Guy, but his body is nicer and he never neglects eating me out. His stubble was enough to drive me bonkers, though. It was at the length where it was like sandpaper on my face. We came simultaneously and he headed home afterwards. I was satisfied and laughed at the fact that three days prior, I couldn’t get anyone to pay attention to me, but in the last 24 hours I had visited with two suitors, and fielded texts from The Shorty, Mr. Blue Eyes (who btw, is still stuck on me. More on that later), and a man I’ve been out with before, but have never bedded. I’ve mentioned him before, so I guess he deserves a surname. We’ll go with Cat Guy. He’s got two cats, is shorter than me, works in IT and is very intelligent and boringly stable. We get along well but I’m not sure he thinks I’m as attractive as him, and he is also too short for my taste. We’ll likely remain craft-beer drinking friends.

But it always ends up either feast or famine with these guys. Why can’t they just get together and coordinate what days they are going to ignore me?


Yesterday morning I woke up to a very painful lump in my armpit. What is this? I thought to myself. Probably just an irritation from shaving, I decided, and headed off to work. I got home in the early evening, anticipating a night of fun for St. Patty’s.

The Highway Guy was supposed to come over and I was going to make corned beef. We had texted a day or so before, and it was more pertinent that he work this weekend (being a broke college kid and all), and because he often part-timed as a bar-back, this was the prime weekend to make some money (understandable). I didn’t even buy the roast. I wasn’t going to eat it all by myself this year.

But, I had made plans for a little fling with The Marine, who I hadn’t seen in a while. It seems that we had had a long period of misunderstanding. First he left without notice for work and forgot to take his phone, prompting a bitchy message from me, thinking he lost interest. Then, he came over to talk and I confessed at one point I was starting to develop feelings for him, so it was probably good that that happened. We made amends, but I never heard from him after that. I had texted him about a week ago, and he said that, per our last conversation, he thought I wasn’t interested in carrying on with him anymore. Not the case, I explained, and we almost met up on Friday night, but I cancelled due to being too tired to stay up very late and postponed for the next day.

So, it was Saturday, and I felt like getting my frisky on, knowing that at some point during the night, I’d be in the sack with The Marine again. The only problem was, I sat down in bed after work, and was unable to get out of it.

I had enough time to take a nap before I got ready for some fun, so I did that. But, over the next few hours, my physical state began to tank. I hurt all over. I felt feverish. I was so tired I could barely keep my eyes open.

Damn those upstairs neighbors and their incessantly barking dog who kept me up last night, I thought to myself. Surely, my lack of sleep and long day at work were to blame.

I managed to shower and dress and head to a place around the corner for some dinner and a few beers. I was totally drained. Surely some food would make me feel better. And the bartender there, who I had grown to know, invited me to join her for girl’s night at a local bar. Finally, an opportunity to make some good girl friends! She had to close down the place, so I had some down time between dinner and then, so I headed home. I took my temperature, still feeling like shit. 99.2. That’s a little high.

So, I did what I always do when I’m feeling bad and I search online and call my mom. And I’m dismayed to say it looks like I may have Mono. That swollen lump….or as it turns out, lymph node, was a clear indicator.

I then texted the Highway Guy and Mr. Blue Eyes, to ask them if they’ve had it before. Turns out once you have, you are a carrier of it for the rest of your life. Highway Guy didn’t respond (no surprise there), but Mr. Blue Eyes confessed he had had it in 2007. And, it had been about a  month (the incubation period of Mono) since I had kissed Mr. Blue Eyes. Funny, I thought to myself, hadn’t I noticed my nodes in my throat being swollen for the past month, but never got sick?

I took a few ibuprofen and lay in bed. St. Patty’s went day down the tubes. I texted my bartender friend to let her know I wasn’t coming. I texted The Marine and cancelled that, too. And, I spent the rest of my evening texting with Mr. Blue Eyes, who seemed to be the only person in the state who really cared about me….but who I least wanted to.

I’ve gotten some sleep and I’m feeling better this morning. No fever and my body feels much better, though fatigue is still ruling my world. Hopefully it goes away soon. I’m just glad I’ve got my tonsils out. I’ve gotten sick far less often since their removal (and never contracted strep since…knock on wood), and should be able to skip the sore throat/cold symptoms because of it.

Another interesting fact – Mononucleosis, colloquially known as “the kissing disease”, due to contraction from swapping spit, is also believed to be sexually transmitted. I guess it could have been worse, right!?



“I’m fucking bored!!”

I texted Highway Guy, on a Tuesday night. This was my day off. And I found myself bored the entire day and maybe even a little lonely. I needed some social interaction.

“I’ve been thinking I might like some of that almost full handle of vodka I left over there,” I said, referencing the left overs from our last night of fun, which happened just 4 short days before. We had been texting last week, and planned to see each other on Saturday night. However, Friday night had rolled around, and he dialed me up to come hang out that night with him and his sister instead. “Can you bring a bottle!?” his drunken sister yelled in the background.

The last few times I came over I have brought something to share. And, I drink a lot of it. Typically when I go to parties I leave whatever is left over as a parting gift to my host. It’s not a big deal and I know that leftover booze found in the morning when I have had to clean up from a party of my own are welcome gifts. Plus, it seems kind of cheap to take a half empty bottle with you when you leave. My college days, when I had to scrounge for liquor and liquor money (and take home half empty bottles), are over. I have room for a little more class in my budget these days.

But, I had left 2/3 of a handle, and almost a full bottle of cranberry juice, which the sister had promised to keep until the next time I came to party. Which, of course, became the perfect excuse for quelling my need for social interaction on a boring Tuesday night.

“I drank it.” Highway Guy texted back.

“WTF!? Dude fuck you!” I wasn’t really mad about the booze as much as I was that he drank it without inviting me to share. I liked Highway Guy. And, I wanted to see him and have fun with him–he is the closest thing to a good friend in town that I have. He would be the perfect FWB I was looking for, if only he would comply with my demands and answer ALL of my texts instead of just some of them.
It was time to let the bitch out of the bag. Because, heck, it seemed to work well for me before!

“You only invite me over to bring you booze, then you ignore my texts. No wonder it is so hard to find good friends!!!”


“Yeah, I’m pissed. And I kind of feel like that, ok? So please, correct me if I’m wrong. You wanna be fuck friends, that’s fine. But don’t just use me and forget to be my friend.”

“I’m sorry”

I ended up calling him after that. He had been talked into drinking with his sister that night (gee, do these guys ever stop?), and apologized to me. I told him the least he could do is buy me another handle and call me next time he wants to drink my shit, so at least I can join him. Then, once amends were made…or more like, I laid down how things were going to be…we decided to meet up. He offered to come here, since I always go there, but I insisted I go that way because I didn’t want him driving all that way having already been drinking.

“Did you drink all the cranberry too?

“I drank that, too.”

“Oh, lord. It’s a good thing you are good in the sack. Or, at least I think you are…from the parts I remember!” I’m always under the influence when I’m with him. And, I’ve yet to orgasm for him because of it, and I forget some parts of our encounters because of it, too! But I do remember a good portion of it, and I always remember that I fucking love having sex with him.

“It’s a bribe,” he joked.

“Wtf, why am I always the sugar momma?! You should be getting me drunk!”

“Then maybe you should dig for a sugar daddy.”

“I don’t need one. I’m an independent and successful woman.”

“And I’m a broke college student with a baby.”

“Gee. LOL I’m a fucking cougar.”

I’m pretty sure being 26 doesn’t qualify me for cougarhood. And, he’s only 4 years younger than me at 22. But, when I stopped to think about where we both were in life, the situation seemed the same. I live a comfortable life. I have money in savings, my bills are paid, I drive a nice car and I got my shit together. He is truly a broke college student. And, I remember being that myself when I was his age, and it seems like I’ve walked a long road since I was in those shoes. Hell, I’ve even been married and divorced since then!

It made me feel a little better, once I truly thought about it. If he could afford to take me out and booze me up, I’m sure he would. He was always very accommodating of me when I was around him, and I often refer to him as my knight in shining armor because he stands up for me and is the kind of guy I could take with me when the day comes that I have to hash out divorce stuff with my ex. He could be my bodyguard. That’s his values, too.

And, to be honest, the leftover booze doesn’t hold a candle to the great sex and the way he treats me. Except for the sometimes unanswered texts. Those I hate.

Well, I grabbed a twelve pack and headed over. It was just him and I, the sister and her man had gone to sleep, after no doubt many hours of binging.

We talked as I downed beer after beer. One thing that I love about Highway Guy is that whenever I walk in the place, I can see on his face how pleased he is to see me looking good. I can tell he finds me attractive. There is always a smile on his face when I walk in.

Eventually, once the beers rested my nerves a little, I brought up those really annoying unanswered texts. He said that he didn’t mean to leave them unanswered – it’s just that sometimes I text him in the middle of class or while he is doing one of his side jobs or when he is around the crazy baby momma. Basically, it wasn’t a good time to answer back, but he was convinced that he eventually answered them, though I begged to differ. I told him that they made me feel like he wasn’t interested in talking to me or that he was blowing me off or disrespecting me, but then later would want me over and of course I’d be bringing something to drink.

He reassured me that that wasn’t the case, and apologized that it seemed that way. After all, last time it was the sister who was yelling in the background for a bottle. I guess I had forgotten because she ended up not drinking any of the bottle I brought. He also said he didn’t want me getting attached too fast, so he thought it might be good to keep things at a minimum to stop me from wanting to have a relationship with him.

Oh, hell.

I let him have it at this point. What had I been telling him all along!? He KNEW I didn’t want a relationship.

“I just want a friend!!! A really GOOD friend. Someone I can talk to when I have a bad day and hang out with and it’s nothing more than that!”

“Ok….but situations change, you know that.”

“Why do you keep saying things like that? Last time I was here I told you I was ok being the ‘invisible woman’ – that we could just be fuck friends and that was it, and you said, ‘that’s fine….for now’. What the hell does that even mean?”

“You’re a woman. You ALL get attached eventually.”

“What the fuck ever, don’t categorize me like that! I have spent a lot of time figuring out what I want and what I don’t want, and trust me, if I ever want to be in a relationship again, I have standards and requirements so specific, that that person probably will never exist!! I just want a friend. And that is all!”

“Ok! I’m sorry, I’ll answer your texts more and invite you over more. I just want you to understand I have priorities in my life right now, and you’re not at the top of them!”

“I don’t expect to be! Why would I be? You aren’t at the top of mine.You have a life and school and a child and a difficult situation with your baby momma. I GET that. I’m not asking to be anything near that on your list.”

Gosh, it sure felt good to air out the laundry.

It took a little bit of courage to put it all out there, but if I hadn’t, he wouldn’t have known where I was coming from, I’d still be in the same frustrating situation, and I wouldn’t know where he was at, either.

He taught me how to play chess that night. And, I discovered just how much more of a big nerd he was. Strikingly and attractively intelligent, but a nerd nonetheless. Which, by the way, is perfectly fine by me. I’m a nerd in my own ways, too.

Of course he beat me at chess, but we had a good time using our brains together instead of our bodies for a change. And no, it wasn’t strip chess, though my tits were about to bust out the top of the sexy shirt I decided to wear over. And, he didn’t fail to cop a feel of them after our chess game was over.

The sex was great, and I’m thankful to say I remember every little moment of it. I should probably stick with beer from now on when I go over there. Especially because I felt great this morning when I arose from his bed to get ready for work, instead of sickeningly hung over, as I have been when I drink hard liquor with him. And, I looked great in his tshirt, hair tousled and makeup still in good shape in the morning. In this condition, I can see why men love that.

He, however, was a little worse for the weather.

“Whiskey,” he said, “I can’t believe I let my sister talk me into drinking it with her again. It always does me like this.”

He was well aware of my whiskey moratorium. Turns out he has a couple little issues with it as well. He was shivering under the covers after his shower. I piled all the blankets on him and asked him if he wanted some water or food or something. He had to get his butt to class, and was already a little late and taking his time to accommodate me.

“No,” he said, “food makes it worse.”


“But you know what would really help me?”

“What’s that?”

“You could give me 5 bucks.”


He laughed, recognizing how awful that sounded after the whole conversation we had had the night before about me feeling used.

“No, it’s just I’m out of cigarettes, and I  might snap on someone feeling like this over a nic-fit. You don’t have to, I know how that sounds.”

I groaned. “What is in it for me then?’

“I’d be in your debt. I’d owe you $5 and a handle of vodka, which I will give you next time you come over.”

I had to get gas when I left there anyways. So, I decided to be a good friend. But, I let him think I wasn’t going to do it until the last minute, at which point he pretty much praised the ground I walked on. I kissed him goodbye at the gas station, and he hung around while I pumped the gas.

“Why are you still here? Go to class!”

“I was just trying to be a gentleman!”

“Well I appreciate it, but I don’t want you to freeze.”

He kissed me again and hugged me and told me he would text me later this week. I told him it’s customary for me to make corned beef on St. Patty’s day, being that I’m Irish, and that he and his sister and such were welcome to join me. I also have a batch of homemade hooch that should be ready for the occasion, so it promises to be a fun weekend.

He’s sweet. And I kinda wonder what it must be like to be him, and how he sees me in respect to me being a little older, having decent money and helping him out a little bit. Does he see me as stupid, for giving into him or possibly being taken advantage of and paying for something small here or there? Or does he find that admirable and endearing? He told me last night how beautiful he thinks I am. And I fucking loved to hear it. I’m very comfortable around him. I guess I’d have to be, given our history.

Speaking of, one last thing. Post-coitus last night, I went to go pee, and he just strolled in while I was on the pot. Normally, this would never happen unless I was involved with someone for a long time. And, I was totally naked on there. I felt naked.

“What are you doing in here! I’m on the toilet, you can’t look at me while I’m on the toilet!”

He didn’t care. He had to go and I needed to hurry up. He’d have been better off waiting outside. It was harder to pee in his presence. Then, after I was done, he peed and came out and farted in front of me!

“GAAHHH! Gross!” I said, moving to the other side of the room. “First, you walk in on me in the bathroom and now you fart in front of me!? Jeez, you must be comfortable around me!”

He laughed, as all men do.

Erectile DISS-function

Erectile dysfunction is a fact of life. And, it’s another reason that I’m glad I don’t have a penis. I can’t imagine what it would be like to experience issues keeping it up or getting it to work. It’s hard enough having a vagina….and aside from monthly issues, the punishment of childbirth, and the myriad of other feminine problems….we really don’t have much to complain about when it comes to the bedroom.

You guys get in there, and we take it. Easy. Do we always orgasm? No. And for some women, reaching climax is harder than others, and for some, even seemingly impossible. But at least we don’t have to do anything to have a sexually functioning vagina.

I bring this up in light of recent events.

I’m 26. I didn’t think that ED might set in for men my age. I naively thought that this set in in men in their 40s and beyond. But that, in retrospect, was probably a silly thought. I mean, men start balding or getting gray hairs (for some men) as early as their late teens.

Well, I pondered on this subject after a new guy, The Claims Adjuster, came to visit. He’d been texting me for months, and I’d blown him off a couple of times. We just never made time for each other. But I was determined one night to have a little adult funtime, and I invited him over. He has a nice car, dresses well, has a good job, and a good head on his shoulders. A little judgmental, maybe, but I have enough confidence to stand up to whatever he fixes to dish out. He told me that he would like to drink when he came over to loosen his nerves.

Fine by me. It’s no mystery that I enjoy an adult beverage from time to time. So, we drank a little. He started feeling bolder, and after watching a comedy show, I was ready to retire to the bedroom. I lie across the bed, and looked up at him. He sighed, looking at me, paced a little and then said, well, maybe I should go.

What? That was a serious blow. Here I thought we were getting on pretty well and he was going to duck out right before sex?

“You want to go?” I asked.

“Oh, well, I do have work tomorrow, but I could stay a little longer. I just can’t stay the night.”

“THAT’S FINE!” I said, confused.

Well, he laid down next to me and eventually the lights were dimmed and we were having at it. The Claims Adjuster was HUGE. He’s a real skinny guy. I still look at all the different chubby chasers that come into my life and wonder what it is that makes them come after me. I mean, you usually figure skinny guys only want skinny girls….But earlier he had mentioned that he has a hard time keeping on weight. Oh, if only that were MY problem!

It didn’t really matter why he liked bigger girls. I was focused in on the giant erection staring me in the face. We were having a good time, trying different positions, telling each other how good we felt and how glad we were to meet…and then after a while, something happened.

I was on top, which seems to be every guy’s favorite thing in the world….and doing my thing, driving the man crazy as I often do from perched atop his dick.

“Stop” he gasped.

I paused. I could tell he was about to cum but didn’t want to just yet. They ALL do this.

I gave it a few moments until I got the ok from him to continue, and resumed. Eventually he pulled me next to him and played with me a little bit. His dick, slowly but surely, was getting softer. He made a quick effort to wake it up by slapping it on my naughty bits, but it didn’t seem to help much.

He was embarrassed, and laid next to me.

Why does this keep happening to me? I must really be turning these guys off! First I have a hard time getting The Marine to ejaculate…until I let him have it without a condom. Then Mr. Blue Eyes can’t keep it hard because he tells me he is TOO excited…..whatever, if that is even true….but I know HE kissed the ground I walked on….and now THIS?! What is going on here! 

I knew I should have consoled him or told him it was alright. But I was frustrated.

“I’m sorry I turned you off!”

“It’s not that!” He said. I still thought it was a lie. I must have done something for him to stop in the middle of sex (and good sex at that) and just slowly die off. He started putting his clothes on and confessed to me than he had a lot of anxiety issues that he actually took medication for. I now realize, typing this, that anxiety meds could have an effect on ability to maintain or get an erection….but at the time I took it to mean that he got so nervous about everything that it got the best of him. And then once it started going down, he REALLY got nervous.

He confessed eventually that he had climaxed while I was on top and had sort of a pseudo-orgasm, and was unable to recover from it.

I could relate. I’ve felt that before. That was the only thing that I really somewhat believed at the time. In retrospect, I kind of gave him a hard time. I wanted to hear him say I had done something to turn him off – because somewhere in my mind I believed that that was the case and I just wanted one man to validate it for all of them. But he didn’t.

He apologized and got dressed to leave. I kissed him and told him to drive safe as I walked him out.

It wasn’t like the sex was bad – we had a really good time and it felt awesome. So awesome I was sad that it didn’t go on longer.

I texted him after he had left apologizing for not being more delicate. I told him that it wasn’t the first time it had happened and I was beginning to believe it was because I was too fat and it turned guys off or something, but I didn’t want everything to end on a bad note and I’d like to see him again. He agreed, and understood why I said the things I did.

In the meantime, we’ve exchanged a few saucy texts, and I hope to see him next week after his company leaves town.

Also in the meantime, The Shorty came over. I was really horny and just HAD to get some that night. I invited The Shorty over. He’s cute….but he also lied about his height. He told me he was 5’6″…which would be 1 inch shorter than me. The Ex might’ve been a full inch shorter than me…but this guy was at least 2 and probably 3. He was cute, though. And, he had a tongue ring. It felt really nice when it banged against my nipple rings.

This guy liked to make out. He attacked me after about ten minutes of chatting on my bed about wolves and dogs and sharing a few pictures (he has a wolf hybrid). We slowly worked into it, exchanged oral, and he pulled on a condom to get to it. He is about averaged-framed, with a dick that curves off to left field. LOL! I’d never seen one curved like that in person before. But it was a decent size and I guess it had personality. And, short story short, the poor guy got into me a few humps before he ejaculated prematurely.


He apologized, and seemed a little embarrassed, but I didn’t care much. I had gotten a good licking, and was satisfied enough, although I’d be finishing things off solo once he headed back home. 😉

Even though he came too soon, it kind of lessened the sting of The Claims Adjuster’s issue. So, it must not be me. This guy was so excited he couldn’t hold it any longer.

Well, if it’s not one dick issue, it’s another. It must be stressful being a guy. It’s easy, being a woman, to blame yourself. It feels like a DISS to a woman when ED happens…but we have to cope with the fact that probably 9.5 times out of 10, it has nothing to do with us. I mean, if a guy wants to stick his dick in you in the first place, he’s got to be turned on by you. And unless you start doing some freaky nasty oddball shit in the middle of sex, he’s probably happy to fuck you until he’s cum.

Unless, of course, something unintentional happens. Maybe The Claims Adjuster did have a pseudo-orgasm climax. Maybe Mr. Blue Eyes was too excited (though I doubt it. ED is probably a more likely culprit). I’m just happy that being stressed or nervous during sex, or just having normal, sometimes faulty equipment doesn’t cause me to have a non-functional, embarrassing vaginal incident.

So, here is to you, penis possessors, and all of your stressful/nervous/inexplicable faults. And here is to Viagra–saving both genders from embarrassment, one blue pill at a time.