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Countdown to bad decisions

27 Feb

Now is the time when my sister should be looking away.  Do not read any further.  Stop reading.  Immediately.  You should maybe go and do some other things.  I think the kids are calling you and the dog wants to go out.  Is that your phone ringing?  You should probably get that.

We’re less than 10 hours out from date 2 with #4.  I’m stupid excited about the whole thing.  Over the moon, can’t concentrate at work, making a list of everything that needs to be done, counting down the hours excited.  Has it only been 2 weeks since that first date with that hawt kiss on the front porch?  Two weeks of texting (or sexting, whatever) and the is-he-going-to-ask-me-out-or-not game with the mean girl who lives inside of my head.  Yet here we are, with hours to spare before his hands are on my body.

Dear sister, if you’re still here, then run away immediately!!

He text messaged me last night until he went to bed, and first thing this morning when he woke up.  Yes, I’m sure he was probably messaging his other booty calls, and frankly, I don’t care.  Based on what he wrote I know he’s excited to see me.  Let me stress the word excited. My hair looks great.  My legs are shaved.  There are clean sheets on the bed.  The house is clean.  I have my outfit picked out.  Mr. Bojangles threw up on the floor this morning.  So far everything is going according to plan.

My rational mind is chanting: I am sex panther.  No touching below the waist.  We will not get fully naked.  I will not sleep with him tonight.  I am sex panther.  No touching below the waist.  We will not get fully naked.  I will not sleep with him tonight.

Meanwhile my inner slut is chanting: I am a sex panther.  Definitely touching below the waist.  We’re going to get fully naked.  I’m going to sleep with him tonight.

My slutty self is going to make this difficult.  Man, would I like to crawl up all over that body of his.  Have I mentioned lately how hot it is?  Because it is hot.  And he is tall.  And his shoulders are broad.  And his arms are strong.  And he has quite a way with words.  And I’m going to straddle him later.  If he did half the things he said he’d like to do to me, then I will die. I will be dead.  No doubt he’d be great in the sack.  No doubt.  I will not sleep with him.  Even though I totes want to.  Not tonight.  I will persevere!  I will resist his charms.  He’s the type that if you give it up too soon then he loses interest.  He wants the conquest.  I will not give him.  I will send him home.  He can come back some other time.

I am a sex panther. No touching below the waist.  We will not get fully naked.  I will not sleep with him tonight.


Protected: The Same Old Story

11 Feb

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Protected: Wanna Bet?

11 May

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When Drunk Tools Attack

16 Mar

In an attempt to balance out my “old maid” behavior of seeing Riverdance on Saturday, I decided to brave the St. Patrick’s day drunkards and meet Jewcy Bits out for some drinks yesterday afternoon. By the time I arrived in Canton, most everyone in the bar was 3 sheets to the wind. Probably because they had all gone directly from their beds into the bar. I’m pleased to announce that my “old maid” actions were completely cancelled out as I was drinking beer straight out of the pitcher within 2 minutes of walking into the bar. Not something I typically do, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

I don’t make it a habit to go to bars in sneakers and frumpy clothes, but I made an exception yesterday. Thankfully, no one seemed to notice. The nice thing about walking into a crowd of drunks is that no one seemed to notice that I was dressed like someone’s mother. In fact, they didn’t even notice that I wasn’t wearing a stitch of green either.

Here’s something else people didn’t seem to notice: the fact that I was far more sober than most of the other people there. Case in point: in the middle of mocking an important conversation with Jewcy Bits, some drunkard stumbled over our way and said to me, “Have you met my friend, Drunk A-hole with Zero Personality?” and then stumbled away. 30 seconds later, Jewcy Bits backed away and left me standing there with Drunk A-hole with Zero Personality (DAwZP). Thanks, Jewcy Bits. No, really.

The world’s lamest conversation day ensued.

DAwZP: Hi.
Me: Hello. [awkward silence ensues] I’m Catherinette.
DAwZP: Hi.
Me: Hello.
DAwZP: I didn’t hear you.
DAwZP: Nice to meet you. I still can’t year you.
Me: It’s because you’re too tall. [DAwZP stoops and I yell in his ear] CATHERINETTE!!
DAwZP: Hello.
Me: Hi.
[more awkward silence]
Me: You play football?
DAwZP: Yeah.  I’m here with my team. [waves to a bunch of guys that are standing around in a circle dancing and singing to one another]
Me: Your friends are gay.
DAwZP: What? [cups his ear and leans forward]
DAwZP: Yeah. [stares at my boobs]
Me: So, how long have you been here.
DAwZP: What’s that?
Me: What time did you get here?
DAwZP: I can’t hear you.
DAwZP: What time did I get here?
Me: YES?
DAwZP: 11:30.
Me: That’s nice.
DAwZP: What was that?
Me: Fuck this, I’m out.

People if you’re going to attempt to hit on someone, at least have something to say.

Later on we saw DAwZP hanging out by the garbage can near the ladies room.  Poor bastard was drooling all over the place and just about to throw up all over himself and anyone standing nearby. 

How could I have let that catch slip through my fingers…? 

“Hot” for “teacher”?

27 Jan

What up, kids?  Its your girl Foxy!  As many of you know, Cath had to leave our lovely little dinner on Sunday night due to the illness of her beloved pet.  It was very sad and I know we are all keeping her and her family in our thoughts during this difficult time.

But what you may not know, is that we had big plans for apres dinner!  We were registered for a little class called “Oral Sex 101” that was being presented at Smaltimore’s preeminent lesbian owned sex shop; Sugar in Hampden.  Oh yeah – that’s how we roll on the Lord’s day, people!

For those of you who have never been to Sugar – I strongly suggest you get yourself there pronto.  It is a really mellow, really fun sex shop staffed by some of the nicest, most non-judgemental folks you ever want to meet.  Not to mention the fact that they keep the key to their bathroom on a key chain that has a butt plug attached to it.  A brave and brilliant choice, no? And even if you think that being in a space surrounded by silicon penises of various sizes and colors is going to weird you out – I swear to God, the staff makes you so at ease – you don’t really even notice them after a while.

I arrived a little early so I could peruse their wares.  And let me tell you – they have some mighty boss wares!  What’s even more impressive – they have books there.  Real actual books with words and paragraphs and shit!  This is how you know you are in a classy sex shop!  I chatted with the staff as I made my way around the store – they were truly delightful.  And I am not being a snarky bitch when I say that – they were really very nice.

As my fellow classmates filed in, I noticed there was a variety of folks who had shown up for the class.  There were a few couples, there were some quasi-drunk 20 something chicks, there was one enormous lesbian (and by that – I don’t mean she was really butch – I just mean she was of large stature), there were a couple of guys on their own (I suspect they were gays who were cruising the class), and there was one older dude.  

Now – let me take a moment to describe that older dude.  He reminded me of a retired HVAC repair man.  Like, if you looked at him and squinted, you could see him in coveralls.  And when I say he was older – well, let’s just say that this guy was totally someone’s “pop-pop”.  You will want to tuck that image into the back of your mind for later.

The class kicked off with some super cool diagrams of male and female genitalia.  It was really informative.  I picked up some truly helpful information.  For example, did you know that a clitoris has legs?  I had no idea and I have been walking around with one for years and years now.  There was also lots of discussion about how in both men and women, there are many very sensitive nerve endings in the anus – or as I like to call it, “The No No Zone”.  Why is it that people who work in sex shops are always trying to get you to shove things into your own ass or your partner’s ass?  Why?  Are they trying to increase their average items per sale number?  And before all you butt plug/anal bead aficionados get yourselves into a tizy and try to convince every one that it is so pleasurable and you have to try it just once – save that sales pitch for some one else, because this bitch is not buying!

We talked about licking techniques, breathing techniques, safe oral sex, power play, and many other topics that are just too numerous to mention.  But here was the disturbing part – do you recall how I was telling you about the retired HVAC repair man who was some one’s “pop-pop”?  OK – well pretty much every time the instructor asked if any one had any questions, he chimed in with an example of one of his erotic adventures where he had given his “lady friend” an orgasm for the ages.  Seriously, it was like he was throwing Penthouse Forum material against the wall to see what would stick (and you know, since we are talking about Penthouse Forum – everything was fairly sticky).  And he would describe these adventures like he was walking some one through changing a timing belt in their car.  Gross!  Near the end of the class, I was seconds away from screaming, “Pop-pop, shut your filthy man whore mouth!  I can’t take anymore!”  But I didn’t, because I am a lady.

All in all – I think it was a terrific time.  I would love to go to another class there – and they have a lot of classes coming up in the next few weeks.  So, for those of you in Smaltimore, check out their web site and sign up for some classes!  Your partners will thank you for it.

My First

12 May

I was 17 when I lost my virginity. Sure he didn’t drive a conversion van and he was a high school graduate as opposed to just having his GED, but it was still a klassy time.

It was a Saturday night in May and my girlfriend, Artsy Gal, and I were down at the beach.  Her family had a condo on 98th Street and she and I had gone down for the weekend.  Back then, our idea of a good time was driving around, staring at cute boys and maybe shouting at them while we drove by.  God we were so freaking cool.

I could tell you exactly what I was wearing that night: blue jeans, black flats, maroon tank top, black linen blazer, and a brown suede jacket.  Look, I was 17 and it was the early 90’s and the outfit made sense at the time.  Lord only knows what possessed me to wear the suede jacket in May and over the linen jacket.  Stupidity is my guess.  Oh, and I had white Victoria’s Secret panties and my brand new graduation bra on.  It was my graduation bra because I was going to be wearing it under my graduation dress 2 weeks later.  The bra had a cute little button in the front.  I loved it.

We were cruising in my SAAB 900 when we saw these cute boys-one of which was wearing a WVU sweatshirt and pushing a bicycle.  Little did I know that this would be the young man that would be the first to use his peen on me.  Yes, I had seen a peen prior to that, I had actually held it in my hand, but we didn’t do it.

Artsy Gal and I immediately drove around the block and caught up with them. Witness my mad flirting skills:

  • CS: Hey, you!
  • My First Peen: Hey yourself.
  • CS: Where are you guys off to? Need a ride?
  • My First Peen: [Stares down at his bicycle then at me] I think we’re set for the ride, but we’re going to a party. You should totally come with us. It’s at 611 7th and St. Louis.
  • CS: Cool.
  • My First Peen: Yeah. Cool.

Artsy Gal and I drove the 3 blocks and met them there.  There we were standing around at the party feeling so awesome that we were hanging out with college boys while we were still in high school.  They offered us beer, we passed because we were stupid and thought we were too cool to drink.  If only I had known that I would spend half my college life in a drunken stupor…  I flirted with My First Peen.  He spilled my beer on my suede jacket.  Artsy Gal met Artist Loser.  They flirted.  He invited her back to his house.  We all went.

Twenty minutes after arriving at Artist Loser’s house, Artsy Gal was in his bedroom.  There I was in the living room twiddling my thumbs trying to figure out how I was going to extricate myself from the situation.  Suddenly, My First Peen announced that he was leaving.  I took this as my queue and offered to drive him back to his hotel (even though it was 4 blocks away and he had his bike).  Sensing that there would be boobies in his immediate future he agreed.

We ended up in his hotel room.  We were talking about my upcoming prom.  I used my mad skills to tell him how boys never asked me out, and I didn’t have a date to prom, and how shy I was, and woe is me I’m so pathetic.  He fell for it.  Somehow we got on the topic of tattoos and he showed me the tattoo of the moon that he had on his right thigh.  Next thing I know he was laying on top of me and we were making out.  It was at this exact moment when his drunk friend bursts through the door and ruined everything.  Super.  Great.  Drunk roommate passed out, we continued making out.  Suddenly, something came over me (no pun intended) and I whispered, “Do you want to come back to the condo?”  He lifted his head, staring at me like I’d just told him that he had a winning lottery ticket and him saying, “Uh, yeah!”  He dragged me out of the room like it was on fire and we might die if we didn’t escape.

The drive took about 15 minutes and I remember thinking, “What the hell am I doing?”  This was out of character for me.  I was a virgin.  I’d only hooked up with one other guy before.  But graduation was just a few weeks away and I was not going to be graduating a virgin.  Hells to the no.  I had to get rid of it, and My First Peen was cute, and charming, and if he wanted it, he could have it.  He said lame cheesy things to me, and I melted.

We arrived at the condo and he told me he wanted to show me something (I’m not talking about his peen).  We went out on the balcony and the sky was starting to get light.  There was a quarter moon and one star left in the sky-I remember the exact position of the moon and star and the color of the sky.  He pointed out at the moon, and said that this was the exact reason he had gotten his tattoo.  If I heard someone say that today it would cause me to roll my eyes.  At 17, this was the most romantic thing that I’d ever heard.

We made out on the balcony.

Then I dragged him into the guest bedroom, and that’s where the magic happened.  I’ll omit the details because I totally know you don’t want to hear all of that.  I will tell you that I didn’t mention to him that I was a virgin, though I’m pretty sure he figured it out the second he heard the sharp intake of breath.  I was completely unprepared for the pain.  Thankfully, that first time only lasted about 10 minutes.  When we did it again later, it didn’t hurt.  I do, however, remember being bored and looking at my fingernails.  Can you feel the magic?

Artsy Gal came home about 8:30.  I heard her come into the condo and went running into the living room to tell her all about it.  There was a naked sleeping stranger in her great grandmother’s bed (because I’m klassy and that’s how I roll) and we were on the balcony spitting out the details of our boundless whoring.

My First Peen finally rolled out of bed at 11:00 and we all got ready to leave.  On the way to drop him off we finally learned My First Peen’s last name.  I dropped him back off at Artist Loser’s house and we said our goodbyes.  We shook hands and said, (I will never ever forget this extremely meaningul exchange) “Nice meeting you.”  My girlfriend and I would later retell the story saying that we’d actually said, “Nice mating with you.”  I saw him again later that summer.  We ended up becoming friends.  The crazy thing is we now have mutual friends.  I hear about him from time to time.

And that, my dears, is the story of my very first time.  A one night stand with a complete stranger.  A whore from the very beginning.

(ear)Budding Romance

20 Dec

Last week, after Foxy and I wrapped up some training, I received a message from one of the cute boys in the class.  He wanted to set up some time to have lunch with me under the guise that he needed a little bit of career guidance.  So we met this afternoon for lunch, and he wore a tie.  I commented on how professional he looked with his “little tie” and he said, “I wore it for you.”  We all know that this is code for, “I want you naked and sweating beneath me.”  Come on, just admit it.

Anyway, we sit down for lunch and left my ear starts bothering me.  It felt like I still had my tiny little headphones in my ear.  I reached up nonchalantly to check if I was really that stupid that I’d walk away without having taken them off.  Nope, nothing there.  10 minutes later I get that strange sensation and reached up again.  Still no earphone.  Strange.  It occurrs to me that I’m spending too much time listening to my ipod and maybe we need a little break.

Fast forward to about 10 minutes before the end of lunch.  I’m gathering all my stuff up and making a little pile, when I look down in front of me and notice the little foam cover from my earphones.  I picked it up and stared at it, panicked, thrust it at this young boy and asked, “Did this just fall out of my ear?” 

He looked stunned, “What?”

I shook the little earphone foam thingy in front of my face, “Did this, just fall out of my ear?”

He looked from me to the foam thingy and then back at me, “No.  I don’t know.  I didn’t notice anything falling out of your ear.”  He managed to keep a straight face while he said this.  Meanwhile, I was trying to prevent my face from turning 40 shades of red.

It’s always great to have something fall out of your ear while you’re in the middle of a “business” lunch.  Super times.