Tag Archives: seduction

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.

 

Advertisements

Protected: The Same Old Story

11 Feb

This content is password protected. To view it please enter your password below:

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.

The Details

9 Jul

A few of you have asked for details from the Saturday night “festivities”. I’ll provide you with the short and sweet version, and the longer much less sweet version.  Please enjoy. . .

Short and Sweet

We were both drunk, we started hooking up at the bar and moved it over to my room. I served him up a Bartles & Jaymes, he reciprocated. We hit it and it was superb. Sadly, there was no cookie. He slept over, I kicked him out at 8:30. We met up with friends for brunch around noon. Said our goodbyes shortly thereafter, and the story ends there.

Long and Dirty

It’s been a few months since I last saw Notebook as he’s moved to another state. Somehow, he talked me into picking him up at the airport. We met at the terminal, and my God, that boy has a sweet ass body. He was wearing a polo shirt that hugged him in all the right places. Yummy! I was hoping beyond hope that we’d end up hooking up at some point, but was pretty sure that it wasn’t going to happen. We drove to the hotel, ran into the groomsmen and groom, met up with some friends, grabbed a bite to eat and then checked into our rooms. We had about ½ an hour to get ready and report back to the lobby for the shuttle that would take us to the wedding location.

Fast forward 30 minutes, we’re all back in the lobby. The wedding was held in this gorgeous Hunt club out in the country, and I was pleasantly surprised to see a lot of old people. This meant one thing: there were less eligible bachelorettes available to him. Unfortunately, it also meant that there would be less options for me if things didn’t pan out with Notebook. We sat together through the service (which was the most beautiful ceremony I’ve ever seen), attended the cocktail hour and then went to our table.Much to my chagrin, I realized that there were 3 other ladies sitting at our table. I was clever in my seating arrangement as I had him sit between me and our guy friend that was there-less access to the bachelorettes. When they came to the table, I realized it was all for nothing-not cute. Reception was a great time, the alcohol flowed freely, there was plenty of flirting, and zero opportunity for him to flirt with anyone else. There was, however, plenty of opportunity for me to make friends with the tall, dark, and handsome groomsman from New York.

New York was handsome, and I was warned about him. The best man and the groom himself told me he was a dog. Guess what? Dogs work pretty well for a hook up, especially ones that are as tall, dark, and handsome as New York was. Things seemed to be working out pretty well, and I took it as a good sign when the wedding party left before we did, and New York told me he’d meet me back at the hotel bar. This led me to believe that I had acquired my target for the evening.

Fast forward 30 minutes, we’re all at the bar. Some people have changed, I’m still in my kick ass dress and my gorgeous heals. I kept going back and forth between New York and Notebook. As I began complaining about how painful my shoes were, New York suggested that I run back to my room to change my shoes. My room was conveniently located down the hall from the bar-I didn’t even have to bother with the elevator. Ran to my room, ran back, handed my room key to Notebook as I had left my purse in my room, New York bought me a drink, we flirted some, then New York excused himself to run to the men’s room. At this point, I went to talk to Notebook who was sitting at the bar. He said, “come here,” grabbed the back of my head, and we started making out at the bar. Klassy. Somewhere in the back of my mind it occurred to me that New York would probably not want to hook up with me if he saw me making out with Notebook at the bar. Drunken thoughts are funny to me.

As last call had occurred, the lights had been turned on, and management had decided it was time for us to leave, Notebook was kind enough to escort me back to my room. How very convenient that he had my room key (god I’m so smart and clever sometimes). We went into the room, I turned on the lamp next to the bed, sat on the king sized bed, and he sat down next to me. We started to snog some more. Suddenly, we were horizontal.

For about 30 seconds I questioned how far I was going to let him get. Then I thought, “Fuck it. Why not just go all the way?” My dress was soon lifted, lowered and crushed between us. He had a belt that required in-depth training to figure out how to remove. He was down to nothing in about a half an hour. I was down to almost nothing shortly thereafter. I provided a synopsis of events in the Short and Sweet version, all two of you that were interested in knowing what happened will have to be satisfied with that.

We hooked up 2 years ago and I had thought that he’d be a good shag. That’s an understatement. He was superb. Why? God only knows. I think it’s a combination of factors: he’s smoking hot, we have great chemistry, he knows what he’s doing and I had wanted him for a long time. Granted, sometimes that leads to disappointment, but not in this case-he far exceeded my expectations.

After it was all said and done with, I planned on kicking him out of my room. I’m not the type that likes to have sleepovers with hook ups. For me, it’s much easier to establish boundaries when we don’t snuggle up afterwards. My usual way of getting them to get dressed and go home is by using this wonderful line: I’ll be asleep by the time that you get home. They usually get the message, and call it a night. Unfortunately, this didn’t work out on Saturday. When I came out of the bathroom, he was already tucked in under the covers. Damn him! I sucked it up and let him sleep in the bed with me.

I woke a few times and was so delighted with myself when I turned to see his naked form sleeping next to me. Truly a beautiful site to behold. Seriously, he has a kick ass body. Kick ass. Ugh, I’m so proud of myself for getting to see it in all it’s glory. Go me!! I woke up at 6:30 with a crushing headache and my stomach churning. Went back to sleep until 7:00. I started rolling around in the bed and sighing out loud in hopes that he’d wake up and leave. It didn’t work. I got up to take a shower at 8:00 and prayed that I wouldn’t get sick while he was room. I woke his ass up around 8:15 and told him that if he wanted to sleep anymore, he’d have to go up to his room. He left. 20 minutes later, I puked. So hot. . .Thank freaking god that he wasn’t there for that. THANK GOD!!

We met up for brunch at noon with our other friends. I mentioned nothing to them, and figured he would do the same. He started asking me questions that I figured they would find suspicious: What did you do after I left? Did you go back to sleep? Guess we weren’t keeping it a secret like I thought we would. Oh well. When it was time to go, he walked me to my car, kissed me, and we said good bye.

I guarantee that I will never see him again, and if I do, there will never be any mention of Saturday night. I’m okay with that. I’m just wicked super psyched and pleased that I finally got to see him naked and it was everything that I imagined and hoped it would be.

Go me!

It Worked for Steve Martin

2 May
Okay, so maybe the premise of Roxanne is slightly different as Steve Martin gets the girl that he’s helping to woo, and I’m not interested in getting the girl that I’m helping Lit’l Smokey to woo. I’m sure you get the picture. Let me tell you the story of his romance with a teeny tiny little baby tramp. We shall refer to her as Baby Tramp. Little, Baby Tramp is 21 years old and still in college (Lit’l Smokey is in his late 20’s). Their wooing takes place on MySpace, and it’s in the form of various messages and comments postings.
Several days ago, Lit’l Smokey and I were discussing Baby Tramp. He was in the process of playing a little game with her: she sent him a message on Tuesday, and he decided he’d wait a few days to respond. When he told me this, I called him a “dick” and told him that was a lame ass thing to do. He told me he didn’t want her to think that he was too eager. Hi, she’s 21 and he’s in his late 20’s. I hope that she’s aware that he just wants to tap that and then move on. If not, then this is a valuable life lesson that she’s about to learn.
When he finally decided to respond to her email, she waited a day and then wrote back to him. He thought that he’d be able to tell if she was pissed/not by the “tone” in her email. The next day, he forwards me the email to get my take. My conclusion: I hate her and she must be stopped. He asked me how to respond, so I went ahead and took care of it. Below is the exchange (mind you, I’ve made no edits to any spelling/grammar errors, I have, however, inserted some wonderful commentary):
Baby Tramp: hello hello[how about capitalization?] ! I am going to be in your town this summer, I will actually be home next week! I have to take a summer class here, but its really short (may 21-june 8th or 9th) I will have to check on that. I have heard amazing things about the [band] and would love to go! I jsut [learn to spellcheck] have to check on the date of my class ending…if it works out i would love to go to that.
This summer i’m living with a friend right by [location]…should be fun! i’m [Grammar 101: the first letter of the first word of a sentence should always be capitalized] looking forward to this summer.
Have a lovely day!
CS writing for LS: Lucky you getting to take another class! What class are you taking? I’ll be thinking of you in your class while I’m busy NOT studying. If you get good grades, maybe I’ll buy you a drink or 2 (or 8) at the concert. [What can I say aside from how clever this is?]
Baby Tramp: haha lucky…i [again, she needs to learn some basic capitalization skills] dont [dont is not a word, don’t, however, is] know about that! I’m taking a really cool class though, silkscreening . The class is 8 hours a day though, monday through friday so that might be a little rough. And by the way, I am a very good student, which means I will be getting a good grade, which means that you should just be planning on buying me those 8 drinks!
Have a lovely Saturday! get crunked up [Christ almighty, I don’t think I have to say much about her “get crunked up” comment. SO LAME!!]
CS writing for LS: Wow, silkscreening. That’s going to come in pretty handy some day. I hear there’s a HUGE demand for silkscreeners in corporate America right now. I expect to see all your final projects and one of them better be of my face on a new shirt-otherwise, there will be no drinks for you.
Maybe I’ll just let him hit it with her first so he can just get it out of his system. I plan on sabotaging all his (my) hard work when I meet her in June. Can’t wait!