Who makes love any more?

A few weeks ago, I was eating dinner with a good friend and a couple she knew walked in and sat next to us.  The girl started to tell us about the fireplace she has in her new apartment with a bear skin rug in front of it.  Her boyfriend (of 2 months) added, "we made love on it."  In total disgust of the phrase "make love," I turned to my friend and said, "Who makes love anymore?  People fuck."  

Last weekend when I was getting frisky with Mr. Pull-Out, he thought it would be a good idea to say, "I want to make love to you."  I slapped him on the head and blurted out, "I'm ready for us to fuck."  

Now, maybe I've clearly become a man about sex and relationships, but seriously...who makes love anymore?  Have you seen the positions we engage in when we're doing the dirty?  That shit ain't love, that's pure ecstasy.  If you played the game "which one doesn't belong?", I think it's pretty clear which one doesn't in this list of actions: doggy-style, suck cock, lick pussy, pinch nipple, cum on face, and love.  

When I think of people "making love," I think butterflies are coming out of vaginas as rainbows are shooting out of assholes.  Alas, that's not what happens.  So let's just call it what it is and try not to sugarcoat it anymore.  Besides, I'm not looking for love, so why bother making it?

Mr. Friend

I made the mistake of telling this one friend about my blog before sleeping with him. So I promised I wouldn't write about him. All I can say is we had some overdue sex that was bound to happen sooner or later. Although I was tired, I still found the energy to act on some lingering sexual chemistry. It was the day before I left LA, and we made it a point to get 2 good sessions in. All worth the wait, Mr. Friend. All worth it.

To count or not to count?

While having my weekend fuckathon, I paused to think about how many guys I've slept with.  When I lost my virginity at the age of 16, I thought I would never sleep with more than one person my entire life.  When I got to college, I said I wouldn't go past 5.  Now, I'm losing count.  A brief moment of guilt hit me when I shamed myself for being such a whore since the breakup.  However, I thought about it again.  How is sleeping with lots of men different than sleeping with just one person all the time (given that you're using protection each time)?  Well, I guess the only difference is it would feel new and exciting every time vs. the old boring shit with one person.  

So I feel better.  I don't need to keep count anymore 'cause that number doesn't mean much.  

Mr. Elevator

Continued from the last entry...

I leave Mr. Pull-Out's room with every intention to go back to my room to sleep. I step into the elevator with tunnel vision, not paying attention to the other person. I'm actually wondering why the hell this person's up at 6:30am. All of a sudden, I hear in the hottest Australian accent, "Hey, are you hungry." I turn to my right, and leaning against the wall is a tall Aussie with big blue eyes, full (and separate) eyebrows, messy dirty blond hair, and a chiseled jawline. He's wearing a button down shirt tucked into fitted jeans, staring at me with a sultry yet "I party hard" look. In my head I'm thinking, "Am I hungry? No. When was the last time I orgasmed? I can't fucking remember." So I pretend to think about it for a second and say, "Yeah, let me go change my shoes." Ahhh, my second victim for the night, Mr. Elevator.

Elevator follows me to my room and waits outside. I go inside and tell my friends that I just picked up a guy in an elevator. Before I could even explain, I put on my flip flops and bolt for the door. As we walk to the elevator, I realize that I still have my panties in my clutch. Oh well, it'll be a nice surprise for him. The elevator door opens. OMG, the sister-in-law of the bride is in there. I'm in the exact same outfit as the night before at the wedding and she is seeing me go in with a guy who was obviously not at the wedding. And of course, we all get off on the same floor. I awkwardly say bye to her as she watches me go into this stranger's room. Classy.

We get into his room and introduce ourselves after making out for a bit. I find out that he's moving from Australia to LA. He turns on some music and pulls me up from the couch to dance. Elevator starts kissing my neck and all I can think about is if he can taste Mr. Pull-Out on my body. He takes my hands and leads me to bed. I am a little tired at this point so I say, "I thought we were just having breakfast." Elevator grabs the room service menu and I point to a fruit salad and half a grapefruit. After he orders, we engage in some pre-sex convo. Surprisingly, he is extremely witty and intelligent. I find out that he owns a web marketing company that optimizes search engine results for companies. I also find out that we're about the same age and that he's sick of meeting the typical air-headed LA blonde. "You're so different from any of the girls I met tonight. I can actually talk you." Elevator then makes his way to the bed and begins to unzip my dress (wow this dress has seen a lot of action tonight!). He makes his way down my thighs, then suddenly, there's a knock at the door. It's room service.

We eat our fruit and Elevator asks me if I have any requests for music. We both simultaneously say "How about Jason Mraz". Weird. He starts playing some JM while I feed him some pineapples. It's all very tropical feeling, like in "How Stella Got Her Groove Back." He then takes the fruit tray away and comes back onto the bed to finish what he started. At this point, I've already figured out every guy's' formula. 1) Caress inner thighs. 2) Gently brush against the vagina outside of panties (in my case, no panties, so just direct contact. Bold). 3) Use free hand to caress the breasts until nipples are hard. 4) Squeeze breasts while penetrating with fingers. 5) Suck on nipples until girl gets in ready position. Formula works every time. Men have it so easy.

Elevator takes off his clothes and reveals a jaw-dropping body. Rippled abs and athletic arms, oh my! If he isn't a soccer player, he could definitely pass as one. His penis is long and very erect. How did I become so lucky to have 2 hot bodies in one night?! I turn to face him and ask him for protection. He nods and immediately grabs a condom from his bed post, rips it open, and puts it on in one smooth motion. Wow, I am both impressed by his efficiency and disgusted by his too-familiar routine. He must have had a fuckathon himself.

He spreads my legs and smoothly penetrates me. I scream in ecstasy and also relief. It has been too long! Elevator truly lives up to his name by firmly staying up. I ask to ride him (I can always come this way). He lifts me up and flips me onto him. I start riding him intensely and come almost immediately. Mmmmmm, momma needed this. Elevator is still hard but he pulls out anyway after knowing I came. How nice of him. We finish eating some fruit and now he wants an egg benedict. He puts in his order and starts back up again by guiding me flat onto my stomach with my legs closed, and penetrates from behind. Then, he twists me to my right so I'm on my side and my legs tangled. Wow, this is new, I got a Kama Sutra professor here. By now, this all feels good and dandy, but I know I can't come again. So, I pull away and he comes almost on cue. 

We talk some more about what kind of food we like eat. He tells me funny stores of his travels around the world. We share the same views about relationships, marriage, and commitment. Only difference is, he wants kids and I don't. Elevator says he's always wanted a son. We then talk about how he just got out of a 2.5 year relationship, his longest ever. He is so unlike anything I've ever met before. I'm digging this guy and it's dangerous. Suddenly, we hear the door open. Elevator bolts up, puts the room service menu over his penis, and says "wait wait wait." It's his friend. They whisper and chuckle outside. I'm sure it went something like this, "I picked up a girl in the elevator..." He comes back into the room with a bottle of vodka. Random.

A minute later, room service is here again. Elevator doesn't care to put on clothes. He again hides his wanker with the menu and answers the door. All I hear is, "Hi sir, here's the food you ordered...oh, um, you think you'll be able to carry it with one hand? OK, you got it? Be careful. Thanks sir. Enjoy and have fun." He sets it down onto the bed and digs in. We take bets on this mysterious looking thing on his plate. He proposes, "If I'm right, we have sex now. If you're right, we have sex in 30 minutes." This guy is the energizer bunny; it's tiring me out just thinking about it. His wit continues to win me over as our conversation progresses. He's so funny that I have no witty responses. Usually, I am good at flirty banter, but this bloke is so charming, I am speechless.

Elevator pushes the tray aside and comes next to me in bed. He's ready to go again. I tell him I'm amazed by his stamina. "But I have an attractive woman in my bed, can you blame me?" Nice one, mate. I complain that I am too tired and I fall asleep in his arms.

It's 9:30am, I wake up and decide I need to go back to my room. I get up and fumble around for a minute. Elevator wakes up and says, "Are you leaving me your number?" Me: "Oh, you didn't ask for it." El: "So you just wanted it to be a one time thing?" Me: "Well, no. Let's hang out again. Here's my number." I kiss good bye and leave.

The elevator opens, one of the groomsmen who had hit on me the night before is standing there. "I see you're still in the same outfit, huh? Walk of shame?" Me: "No, nothing like that."

What was it with me and elevators today?!

Mr. Pull-Out

Yes, it has been a dry spell.  The last time I had sex was with Nooner and his lazy cock.  But don't fear, I made up for it this past weekend at a wedding in LA.

They say weddings are great places for singles...well I would say weddings are great places for horny singles, not for singles looking for love.  In other words, perfect for moi.   It's a beautiful Saturday evening and I am scoping out the crowd.  I don't see anything that catches my interest other than the open bar.  About 4 hours later, I don't see faces anymore.  Just penis (it's my x-ray vision, pretty amazing when I'm wasted).  I dance from one penis to the next and finally settle for one at the end of the evening.  His face is a blur but I can hear him say, "Come back with me."  I call over the bride and groom to ask for their opinion, they give me their highest recommendation.  Well, OK, he'll do.  

We stumble back to his one bedroom suite at the hotel and immediately engage in a passionate lip-lock.  I drop my clutch, and he unzips my strapless dress.  Easy off.  He starts slowly kissing down my neck and unhooks my strapless bra.  I suddenly remember his name - good, it'll be easy to scream it later.   He leads me to bed and sweetly caresses my body.  "You have a beautiful body."  "You're so sexy."  As much as I enjoy the attention, I don't know what to say back other than, "Thanks."  I must expand my bed-side vocabulary.

There is something different about his touch than the rest of the guys.  Something sensitive and less "let's fuck."  For a mere second, I actually thought we had feelings for each other.  Then I slap myself back into reality and say, "Fuck me, [his name]."  In pure excitement, he tears off his clothes.  I get a better look at him since I am somewhat sobering up.  He's a handsome man probably in his early to mid-40's.  His body, however, is that of a 20-year-old's.  Nice ripped arms and abs, firm ass.  I could definitely get used to this body.  I find out he's some sort of a doctor, but I don't care to inquire.  What if he says he's a Gastroenterologist?  That would totally ruin the mood.

He reaches for a bottle of lotion to lube up his penis.  I get in ready position and asks him for protection.  He says he doesn't have any but "I can pull out."  I respond, "How old are you, I am not risking a pull-out."  "Don't worry baby, I was married for 16 years and couldn't get my wife pregnant.  I must be shooting blanks."  I stare at him in pity.  "Come here next to me, we'll cuddle."  By then, I've decided to call him Mr. Pull-Out.  

He tells me that he was in a marriage for 16 years with a woman who was depressed and had mental issues.  She recently packed all her stuff and moved to another city, without any warning.  Pull-Out tells me he loved her very much and endured years of mental instability.  I can tell that he still loves her and is deeply traumatized by her leave.  I cradle him in my arms and we fall asleep.

An undetermined amount of time later, I wake up to the sound of knocking.  I look next to me and Pull-Out is gone.  I realize he is so drunk he has locked himself in the bathroom and doesn't know how to get out.  OMFG!  About 10 minutes later, he finally figures out the unlock button.  Here I am, a 20-something shaking my head at this grown 40-something man.  It must be true, men will never grow up.

Pull-Out comes back to bed and I am ready to go again.  I do my usual maneuver of rubbing ass against penis.  His penis responds back.  Pull-Out works his way down my body with a determined trail of kisses.  I know where this is headed, oral sex.  Men usually like to make a grand entrance down there with gestures that say, "Trust me, I'll be good."  I am not a big fan of oral sex (giving or receiving) but I figure maybe he would be different.  2 minutes later, I am bored.  The tongue just doesn't penetrate as deeply as I prefer.  So, I pull him up for breath and immediately push his mouth onto my breasts.  He firmly grabs my ass and works his way to fingering.  Much better.  I am so turned on at this point that I talk myself into letting him penetrate.  Even for a second.  I open my legs and he makes a move.  Ugh, it's flaccid.  Pull-Out is in the same league as Nooner.  I think to myself, "His wife put up with this for 16 years?" And "Why doesn't he take Viagra?!"  In frustration, I flip him over on his back and start giving him a hand job.  He sucks on my nips while using his nails to slowly scratch my back, up and down.  I've never felt this sensation, but it is fucking good.  He seems hard again so we flip back around, and he goes for it.  He grabs my ass tightly and pulls me up for more leverage.  We go at it until I think he's about to explode.  Not trusting that Pull-Out is actually going to pull out, I push him off of me and roll to my side.  I realize that without protection, I'm not going to be satisfied tonight so I get up.  Pull-Out grabs my arm and begs me in to stay in bed.  I continue to collect my clothes and in a rush, throw my panties into my clutch.  He asks, "Please leave me your number."  I turn around and respond, "If you really want to call me, you'll find a way."

I blow him a kiss, give him an over-the-shoulder smile, and leave.  I've always wanted a dramatic good-bye.  Done!

But stay tuned, this is not the end of my night...

Dating = thrift store shopping

While shopping at a thrift store with my friend, I realized how similar it is to dating.  There are two types: 1) the young, hip, in-season store like Buffalo Exchange or 2) the mature, sophisticated, high-end store like Tokio 7 here in NYC.  

Nooner is your poster child for the Buffalo Exchange type.  He's young, on-trend, and barely worn.  But he's so trendy, you might be excited about him one day and have buyer's remorse the next.  He's also generic, disposable, just good for going out, and may need to be worn in a little.  This type has had just a few previous owners.  He looks great, but his seams could come undone any day.  It's hard to predict.

Then there's Uni, the Tokio 7 type.  He's classic, sophisticated, and has the potential to make you look like a million bucks.  But he's so old, you might feel gross touching him.  He's also one-of-kind, hard to dispose of, only good for special occasions, and may be a little too worn in.  This type has definitely had many previous owners; may also have been treated like shit.  He's made of high quality, but you wonder why nobody has taken him home yet.  There's always a good reason.

Now, if only I could find a store somewhere in between those two.  

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Mr. Uni

I was drunk at a friend's bachelor party (yes, girls were allowed) and met a tall, older gentleman.  Although I was obliterated, I still remember a couple of my friends encouraging me to date rich, older men.  Try it on for size if you will.  So with an open mind, I decided to accompany my older gentleman for an hour.  With my beer goggles, I remember seeing a very tall man (around 6'5"), dark features, and a large nose.  He had an old, soulful voice.  I was not attracted but we did have hilarious conversation about who the hell knows.  I gave him my card and left to throw up.

A few days later, he called and asked to take me to dinner.  Dollar signs in my eyes, I agreed.  So tonight, we met at a cute French restaurant on the upper west side.  I dressed "mature" for my age in hopes making our 1st public appearance not too awkward for onlookers.  I show up fashionably late and there he is, a tall...dark...dad??  Yes, I was drunk, but I could swear he wasn't this old!  He stands up to greet me with his 6'5" frame (at least I got that part right) and I immediately gasp at his not-to-be-missed unibrow.  Thus, we call him Uni.  

Uni may be older than my dad.  I'm not sure.  I try not to think about it.  He introduces me to his friend and also owner of the restaurant, who is a gray-haired man well into his 50's.  We are led to our "romantic" table for 2.  Uni talks to me about his numerous brothers, his work, and his love for steak.  Meanwhile, all I can do is examine the wrinkles on his face, his loose skin, and his sagging eyelids.  Uni also has this Marlon Brando-like voice that soothes and scares me at the same time.

Now I've gone too far.  In my quest to date as many men as possible, I apparently lost all of my standards.  I quickly finish my dinner and pretend to be calm, collected, and confident.  I stay a little after dinner to chat with him and his buddy, and Uni walks me to the subway.  He wants to see me again.  I tell him I'm going away for a really long time.  

As I walk home from the subway, I text my girlfriends "It was like dating my dad, except my dad is better looking."

Magnum PI

I appreciate a big cock.  Who doesn't?  But if a guy has a big cock, does he really need the girl to tell him how big it is?  So, every time I've slept with a guy with a big ding dong, he likes to pause before he pulls out the condoms.  It goes a little something like this:

1) Get hot and heavy

2) Give each other the "let's fuck" face

3) Guy reaches for condoms

4) Guy presents his Magnum condoms Vanna White style

5) Guy pauses for "ooohs" and "ahhhs" from the audience

Sweetie, I appreciate your larger-than-normal cock that requires a larger-than-normal condom, but let's see how you work it first before you get a standing ovation from me.

Nooner, encore

I kinda went into this whole thing thinking I wouldn't have repeaters unless I was really into them.  However, this bitch hasn't been laid in a while and sometimes, a girl's gotta do what a girls' gotta do.  

It's a weekday around lunch again, and I get an IM from Nooner:

Nooner: "I called you the other night but you didn't call back."

Me: "I thought you'd leave a message if you wanted a call back."

N: "Well then, what are you doing today?"

M: "Making tea."

N: "Hmmmm"

M: "Does someone want some tea again?"

N: "Maybe.  I can't get those thoughts out of my mind."

M: "Me neither."

N: "I'm leaving the office in 10."

I quickly rush into the shower and make sure I am well groomed and clean.  I put on a dress because I've always enjoyed fucking in a dress.  Am I becoming a porn star?  Ha.  Nooner shows up at my door about 20 minutes later.  He comments on how good I smell (I know, I just took a shower that's why).  We have some awkward small talk again, and he tells me how he's not too happy with his girlfriend.  She's too young, indecisive, stubborn, blah blah blah.  All I can think about is the variety of scenarios of how our romp session would start.  We're sitting on my bed/sofa, and he doesn't make a move.  So I go over to my window to look at something.  He follows and starts kissing my neck.  Yessss, this is how Blankie got me all riled up, too.  Nooner comments on my sexy dress and starts taking down the straps.  He kisses my shoulders and then pulls me closer to him.  I'm having a hard time standing up I'm so turned on, so I hold on to the sides of the window and he presses his boner against me.  

I realize that the neighbors could see everything, so I close the curtain.  I turn myself around we start a typhoon-like series of undressing.  First he takes off my panties (love having a dress on panty-less), and I start unbuttoning his shirt.  I kick off my panties as I'm pulling his shirt over his head.  He then starts cupping my breasts and pulling the straps down even more.  I start working on unbuttoning his pants (seriously, button fly?!).  I sit down on the bed as he starts grinding me through his boxers.  It feels so good.  He puts his cock on my chest and says, "put your mouth on it."  I grab his cock and start stroking it, while singing the words, "that's for your girlfriend to do, and I'm not your girlfriend."

I then stop him because I demand protection. Nooner looks disappointed and starts kissing my stomach.  He then starts fingering me to the point where I can't take it anymore.  I become frustrated and then he goes, "I have a surprise for you."  Nooner frikken pulls out a travel-size box of condoms. He follows with, "I knew we weren't just going to have tea."  

The condom is on and I am so excited to fuck.  My bra is off, my dress is pulled down, and I am basically in a skirt.  My favorite outfit for a nooner.  He lays down and asks me to ride him.  Well, I'd be happy to.  The first initial penetration never felt better, he has a solid, large cock that has the girth of 3 bananas combined.  But then, he loses his erection.  WTF?  So he swings me underneath him and fucks me missionary style.  "Ooooh, this feels good.  Keep doing that.  Yes.  Yes.  NO!  He just lost it again?"  Nooner, looking determined, pulls up my right leg for better positioning and goes for it again.  "Yes, yes, YES......no."  It's gone again. Still optimistic, he turns me over and starts doing me from behind.  He even throws in some ass spanking.  But the penis seems like it would rather cuddle with my vag than to enter.   I'm now so pissed and tired from playing hide and seek with a 10 inch lazy cock.  Nooner is drenched in sweat.   We call it a day.

I think after Nooner puts his boner into some serious training, we'll talk.  But until then, Nooner is a goner.

Mr. Blankie

Sometimes after a girl ventures out too much, she just likes to go back to what feels safe and comfy.  Let me introduce you to Blankie.  I've known him ever since my Freshman year in college (so yeah, 10 yrs), we've always hung out with the same people but I've never gotten to known him or thought of him in any romantic way.  Blankie is super cute, muscular, athletic, clean cut, with a boyish face.  Dresses in your normal corporate guy wear with clean and pressed shirts and high end slacks.  He is almost exactly like my ex (even looks like him) and that is why he's my safety blanket (Blankie).  He works in finance and parties hard, and one day, I realized I wanted to get him hard.

Our mutual friend invited me out for drinks.  It's Saturday and I had been drinking quite a bit already.  I show up at the bar and Blankie immediately starts talking to me.  I think this is the most we've talked in the 10 years I've known him.  We start talking about hooking him up with my girlfriends which is always a good topic if a girl wants to play a guy a little.  The guy thinks you're not interested and then tries harder to get you to be interested.  Anyway, he starts putting his arms around me and I reciprocate.  At this time, everyone in the group is looking at us and I realize that this chemistry is undeniable.

We start to leave the bar with 2 of his friends, and one by one they get into cabs to go home.  It's now 4am and I tell him I'm going home, too.  He then stops me in the middle of the street, turns me around and we start kissing.  Heavily.  I'm not too impressed with the kissing 'cause I feel like it's more like fly fishing as opposed to the preferred deep-water fishing.  Whatever, it'll do for tonight.  We hold hands and go back to his place.  

Blankie lives in a trendy apartment in the East Village.  Before I could get a full tour of the place, he has already led me into his bedroom and closed the door behind him.  Hmmm, I like that kind of initiative.  We continue making out and I enjoy feeling his muscular shoulders and arms.  Those arms then push me onto the bed and I know where this is going, but I don't want it to go there.  He's too much like my ex.  

I get up to leave and Blankie starts kissing my neck from the back.  He then works his hands down to my ass and caress it like a fucking Heisman trophy.  There's something about me not having to face him that makes it all exciting again.  I decide to extend my stay as he leads me down to the bed with my stomach down.  While his right hand is caressing my breasts over my shirt, his left hand is gently teasing in between my legs.  I know he can feel how wet I am.  He starts to take off my pants to expose my bare ass as he continues to worship the piece of art before him (this is just how I think to get myself psyched up).   Enough of him having his way with, it's my turn!  I flip around and rip off his clothes, and then I take off my shirt.  We engage in some dry humping and I can feel his erect cock through his boxers.  Damnit, I make eye contact and I lose my female erection.  Blankie reminds me too much of the past, and I need to move forward.  I brush him off of me and put on my clothes.  He begs me to stay as I bolt for the door.  I say good night.

Come to think of it, he never even asked for my number.  Bastard Blankie.

To pay or not to pay?

I am an independent woman and I make my own money, but I still believe that the guy should pay for the first date.  Am I wrong?  Is that really old fashioned?  When a guy offers to pay for the first date,  I feel like he respects me enough to treat me, even if it is our only date.  Of course, I always offer to pay out of courtesy.  I've had several guys take my money and split the check 50/50 even if he's had 10 more drinks than me.  That to me is an immediate turn-off, and a guaranteed lack of future dates.  

The Artist

It may be almost the end of the year, but I feel like my year has just begun.  So to celebrate the new year, I've decided to date outside of my comfort zone.  Thus, comes The Artist.  I've known him for a hot second through a mutual friend.  He is NOTHING like I've ever dated before.  30's, Brooklyn-dweller, tall and burly, a few extra "endearing" pounds, scruffy face, totally Williamsburg vibe.  Rides his bike everywhere.  The Artist likes to wear worn-in fitted jeans, and beat up T-shirts that look tie dyed, but are actually filled with faded spots from its 1000 previous owners.  He looks like he might smell like "vintage store" but surprisingly smells like nothing, which is much to my delight.  And as his name suggests, he is an artist, which is the one thing that really attracts me to him.  You know the problem with a lot of guys is that they have no passions in life, no hobbies, nothing.  So they get caught up in their jobs and become disillusioned by money to the point where they don't really know what their purpose is in society.  The Artist, on the other hand, has a passion for making art.  He thinks about it 24/7, and he knows he's damn good at it.

The Artist and I had a minor flirtation the last time we met and we quickly began a Facebook chat relationship.  One day on Facebook, in his awkward and somewhat retarded way, this conversation took place:

Artist: "So, when are we going to do this?"

Me: "Do what?"

A "Go on a date."

M "Are you asking me out?"

A "Stop fighting it."

M "Fighting what?"

A "Us."

M "I didn't know we had elevated to "us" already."

A "Seriously, what do I have to do to make this happen."

M "You gotta come to me."

So the next day, The Artist rides his bike across the bridge to meet me in my hood at about 11pm.  We decide on a quiet Irish bar.  He compliments me on how I looked earlier (I had run by him to go home to change after getting dinner with my friend), and tells me that he likes my hair down (as opposed to the low pony that I'm sporting).  I keep my hair up.  We talk about a rag tag combination of topics ranging from creepy men to Sean Kingston to eBay.  So random, that I was fascinated by the inner workings of The Artist.  I stop to think if I would make out with him or not.  I don't.  I can't even touch him...like on the knee.  I don't know why.  He's not physically repulsive and definitely better looking than Teapot, but I feel zero sexual chemistry.  

It's 4am and we close down the bar.  He walks me home and I hug him good night.  He comes a little closer and I'm scared and disappointed.  I wish I would want to kiss him, or even better, bang him.  But I don't.  Feeling defeated, I take out my keys to unlock the front door.  

Oh well, this tigress needs her rest anyway.  No pouncing today.

Mr. Nooner

I've had an on-going sexting relationship with this guy for some while now, even when I was in a relationship.  I thought it was innocent fun and thoroughly enjoyed classics such as "You look so hot in that skirt, I just want to pull it up and bend you over right now," or "I want to press you up against a wall and kiss you all over, you're so sexy."  I love attention (what girl doesn't?), especially when it comes from a hot guy.  So this guy comes back into the picture and I shall call him, Nooner (you'll see why in a bit).  He's a much younger man who acts older than most guys my own age.  Tall, all-American good looks, shaggy dirty-blond hair, a strong manly nose matched by a strong pair of eye brows.  Dresses in T-shirts and jeans, and for special occasions, button down with skinny tie.  Always smells like soap.  Nooner carries himself like a man but still has moments of boyish charm that could literally charm the pants off any girl.  

It's a weekday around lunch time, Nooner IM's me and see if I'm free for lunch.  Sure, we've hung out before, so it didn't seem anything out of the ordinary.  We get together for lunch at a casual bar in my hood.  We first have some necessary small talk, and then it's the "How's your boyfriend?" topic.  I tell him that we broke up, and he seems a little perked up.  More attentive.  Then, Nooner tells me that he's still with his girlfriend.  Bummer.  

After lunch, he walks me back to my place, and kinda lingers around, "What are you up to now?"  I respond with, "Come up for tea?"  "Sure."  We kind of awkwardly hang out on my sofa/bed before I get up to actually make some tea.  Let's face it, he's not up here for tea, but I still have to make it, right?  As I fumble around to find where I've stashed the damn tea, he's making small talk once again.  I can feel the sexual tension in the air, but it's like this big sexual elephant.  The big sexual elephant that is jacking off but everyone is ignoring.  

We drink our tea and I'm holding onto mine like it's a shield.  Now we're talking about our sexting history.  He admits that he feels sexual tension, "If only you didn't have such an incredible ass."  I love getting my ass complimented, I've worked hard on that baby.  I'm starting to feel hot and tingly and I say, "Maybe we just can't be friends, or be alone."  "Maybe..." he responds.  Nooner and I stare at each other in a way that is half admiration, half eye sex.  I put my tea (shield) down.  He puts his arms around my waist and draws me closer.  Our nose touch and we enjoy this moment.  He's caressing my back and the top of my ass, and I'm running my fingers through his hair.  "OMG, is this really happening?  Are we about to fuck?" I think to myself.  

Then it happens.  He kisses me tenderly, I kiss back, and then each kiss after that gets progressively more porno-like.  Before I know it, we're both breathing heavily, and his hand is grabbing and rubbing my entire body like a blind man touching a woman for the first time.  We roll around my bed/sofa and he starts to work his hands underneath my shirt and bra.  Time check: 1:15pm.  

We roll around some more and he starts to take off my pants.  I suddenly realize I haven't exactly "groomed" myself if ya know what I mean.  Having been in a relationship for 5 years, there are somethings that you just don't think about anymore.  So I jump up and pull up my pants and say, "Stop. Stop.  We can't do this."  That gave him ammunition to dominate me even more by grabbing me and throwing me on to the bed while he takes down the straps of my bra and starts sucking on my nipples.  Ahhh, that feels damn good.    But, I know this is as far as it'll go, so I collect myself and turn to him to say, "You should go back to work and think about things.  Then you can either come back after work or not."  

Sure, I'm playing the morally-torn girl when all I'm really worried about is getting a quick shave before 6pm.  Nooner agrees to my plan and kisses me goodbye.

Sometimes foreplay is just what a girl needs at lunch.

That night, I go to dance class to clear my head and I get a missed call from Nooner.  No message, no text.  I'm curious what he decided to do, but I figured I wasn't desperate enough to know.  

So, I go home and watch youporn.

To tongue or not to tongue?

When I had my first kiss in the 7th grade from a boy named Chris, it was nothing like how I pictured it from romantic comedies.  He was walking me home from school, cornered me half way, stuck his tongue down my throat in a pulsating rhythm, and then ran home.  At the time, I thought the tongue was gross.  But I was in the 7th grade.  Now, I need the tongue.  I can't imagine a passionate kiss without two hot and juicy tongues meeting to say, "Hello" and engaging in a game of who can lick harder.  However, I have encountered some guys who don't EVER use their tongue.  Why?  Is it a lazy tongue?  Does it not extend out enough?  Are they scared to use it?!  Why??????  Please enlighten me.

Mr. Teapot

I swear some guys know immediately when a girl is back on the market.  This guy I went out with tonight was definitely one of them.  I've known him for about a year through a mutual friend and I've never found him physically attractive.   I will call him "Teapot" because he's short and stout.  He has love handles, and I'm sure a little spout.  Teapot has short curly black hair, stubby baby hands, and dresses like a douchy Jon Gosselin.   You know, the 30-something who thinks he could hang with the cool kids.  

Ok, so I'm not painting a great picture of the first guy I'm going on a date with since the breakup, but he has redeeming qualities.  He has a well-paying job in finance, he's made some smart investment decisions that are currently paying off, and he is one of the wittiest people I've ever met.  

So Teapot somehow magically senses that I am single and texts me, "Let's get together for drinks."  We meet up at an after-work bar and decide that we'd rather eat, so he takes me to this well-known Japanese restaurant in mid-town.  He orders just about everything on the menu and a full bottle of sake.  We don't run out of things to talk about and the laughter doesn't stop, but the attraction doesn't build either.  

At 2am, I am wasted and can barely see the $300 tab that he just paid for.  Teapot offers to walk me home and when we get there, I hug him good-bye.  Apparently, that was an invitation for him to stick his short and stout tongue down my throat.  To my surprise, the Teapot kiss didn't make me throw up.  And it got better after I closed my eyes to picture the hot guy I used to make out with back in the day.  Then, Teapot grabs my right breast and squeezes with a little bit of naughty aggression.  Teapot is steaming.  My eyes are still tightly closed but I am somewhat enjoying this absurd makeout session happening out in public in front of giggling strangers stumbling home.  Teapot gets ambitious and goes to finger me over my jeans.  All of a sudden, an image of his baby fingers awaken me from my fantasy.   "Ahhhhhhh, WTF?!" I think to myself.  I pull away and quickly say "Good night."

Gimme a break, I'm just getting warmed up.

Who am I?

I'm your average girl living in NYC and I have been in relationships for most of my 20's.  Don't get me wrong, I've definitely had some crazy girls gone wild moments in between my relationships, but for the most part, I've had a boyfriend.  Nice, stable, sweet, caring, sensitive boyfriends.  I recently ended an almost 5 year relationship that seriously should've ended 2 years ago.  You know how when you get comfortable in a relationship, it's just easier to stay in it?

Anyway, in college, people always assumed I was the "Samantha" of my group of friends because I was very open about sex.  Well, I might have had the "Samantha" vocabulary, but never her sex life.  So here am I, in my late 20's, ready to act out my full "Samantha" potential.  I am ready to pounce.  My goal is to date as many men as I possibly could and tell you all about it.  Hey, guys do it all the time, why can't we kiss and tell, too?  

I am not looking for love, I am looking for fun.  Ready?

Here. We. Go.