No bitings

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Am back to active foreplay and stimulation that makes it possible to get wet really fast. I feel like am rediscovering my erogenous spot with new men and today’s man was a biter. WTF. He knows how to work my nipples, he works them so good, almost. That I close my eyes and moan as he takes my nipple to his mouth, IN DREAD!! Am scared of him having me in his mouth it is painful and he seems to think it will work for me. I do not know what porn this man has been watching but I know am not a pain-fetish person. I love the right pressure and the right intellectual stimulation to get me going, not pain.

It’s been 10 days since I last had sex and I haven’t enjoyed foreplay (minus the bitings) this much this year. I feel like I just met me through guy 1. I have a feeling there will be other guys I will tease but I think now I know just what I want! It’s such a beautiful feeling to let go of emotions and have primal sex, jungle-like in it’s execution complete with the nether regions sniffing and no apologies or small talk later. In my next guy episode, I wish to have this kind of fun, in public. The thrill makes me wet already!

 

Pole Pole Dereva

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Take your time, shiish! What is wrong with you people? Kissing like you are trying to melt an ice-cream cone, rushing through foreplay, thrusting like you have a rocket stuck up your asshole…yawa!! We are no longer in the wild where sex had to be rushed to avoid predators (that’s why baboons have sex for a maximum of 5seconds!), so chill, relax, make her beg for it before you give it to her, have your way with her body. You see when a woman allows you (an LOL is in order for those men who still think they ‘convince’ women to let them have sex with them, dude, you are just a beggar!) to partake of her, she offers you her whole body, her mind, her emotions her being. Woe unto the men who just look at a lady as a walking vagina, you should read ‘Taboo Speaks’ and hear what women think about you! Gents, don’t be in a rush, unless you are paying for it on a per second Tariff, I repeat myself, do not rush! Straight from the kissing, take her cue. Kiss her the way she wants you too and believe me when you have, she will guide you to some other part of her that requires attention. Nibble on her ear down to her collar bone as you take off her bra and you will definitely receive the ‘When did my bra come off’ look. That look boosts your ego and a ‘good lover’ making points like nitrous does to a car. I once heard a lady complain that her boyfriend touches them like they are water balloons about to explode any second and I also heard another lady complain that her boyfriend kneads them like chapati dough! Fondling the twins is a simple art Google it or something! Christ!! And next time someone is going down on me and they ask “is it there?” I swear I will hold his head like a vice and pee the stupidity out of him!!! Get a biology text book bastard! Yours, deranged!!

The Wheels of the Bus

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The wheels on the bus go round and round, round and round, round and round. Amazingly simple song isn’t it? Round and round, round and round. I mean you really cannot forget its words. They say sex is easy. Once you know how to you can’t forget it is like riding a bike or learning the aforesung song. Well IT ISN’T.

Now I wouldn’t call myself the expert on all matters sexual. That would make me a prostitute but ladies it isn’t all about you. It isn’t about his hands on you or his what-you-may-call-it in you. Every once in a while do something to excite him. Agreed that the fact that you are having sex should be enough but next time try to make it good sex? Maybe?

I mean, go experimental, tilt your head, arch your back, do something you saw in that porn clip you watched in the solitary silence of your room when no one could see(or hear) you. Give him head, really really good head. If nothing else you will be shocked at the returns.

The wheels of the bus go round and round, round and round, round, and round. remember its the wheels of the bus that are sung of in the sickening  joyious monotone. No one is ever monotonous about the wheels of the Ferari.

I’m a good virgin: I’ve never had good sex

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A virgin is one who has never had sex. So, since I’ve never had good sex, I imagine that I am a good virgin, no? I can tell you that being a virgin is overrated. But being a good virgin? It is the global warming of sex. The 2012 of sex. Everyone warned you about it, but you didn’t listen.

This is my theory: All those years back, Dangly Thinglies were warned that their days were numbered.  They were told, oh ye Dangly Thinglies, stand up and repent, or there shall be fire and brimstone in the orifice of milk and honey. Dangly Thinglies paid no heed. And now, sexual Armageddon is here. Orifices parch from disuse (or misuse), Dangly Thinglies shrivel.

I remember the time I lost my virginity. It was the most horrible sex of my life. Truthfully, it felt like consensual rape. The most appalling thing about it, about me, was that horrible sex after horrible sex, I kept going back to him for more.

It wasn’t because I liked it, or because I was sado masochistic, or because I’m a dweller of the dark strata that draws its life force from nonsensical sex. It was because I kept hoping that his Dangly Thingly would transform into a magic wand where touch wasn’t even necessary. All it needed to do was to point at my orifice and I would explode into orgasmic confetti.

How sorely I was disappointed. And I mean sorely in the most literal sense you can imagine. Over and over, this man bruised my orifice. And I’m not even referring to the abyss inside my heart.

That sex wasn’t like the one in the movies: I tried moaning loudly, but feared sounding like a chicken with its neck caught in a mouse trap. I tried closing my eyes in imagined ecstasy, but feared slipping into a coma. I tried wrapping my hands lovingly around his neck, but feared being on the news for strangling my lover. If that trend continued, I wouldn’t look for P2s after sex anymore; I’d be searching for morphine to deaden my somatic anguish.

Ever since then, sex has been an exercise in horizontal kinetics. The user manual goes like:

  1. Open legs.
  2. Insert Dangly Thingly.
  3. Close legs.
  4. You will hear a grunt from his throat.
  5. Open legs.
  6. Remove Dangly Thingly.
  7. At this point, you may say how:

–          That was the most amazing sex of your life (the bar isn’t that high anyway)

–          He made you come over and over

–          Your heart breaks at the thought of his Dangly Thingly leaving your orifice, even if for just an hour.

  1. In saying the above, have only the exact amount of convincing in your voice. Too little convincing will make him think you faked the orgasm. Which you did. Too much will make his Dangly Thingly’s head swell, leading him to have a big head, leading his Dangly Thingly to want to be back inside you for round two of the most horrible sex of your life.

I think every woman has a right to good sex. If you love her, let the quality of sex show how much. If you only want to chips her for the night, at least let the sex be worth the walk of shame in the morning. And if you’re cheating on your wife with her, the sex then better be worth the social stigma of being the other woman.

Meanwhile, I welcome project proposals on how to lose my good virginity. Serious applicants only. Proven track record required. Two referees an added advantage. Dangly Thingly doesn’t have to be mammoth in size. In fact, mammoth Dangly Thinglies are strongly encouraged to desist from applying.

of heads…

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So I mowed my lawn … not the only thing in my head is his head…

Heads up everyone.

That’s more like it.

Am I evil in wishing his head was heading me, the cool breeze already headed me… and now I find me fingers doing so too. My wish for today is that I get laid down and headed. A simple wish.

Now to find him who I will allow to trespass my grass is the quest, tease me, squeeze it with just the right amount of pressure then take me. Meet this primal desire to just be taken. Yield into this what am yet to understand. Sometimes –like this one- I wish I could satisfy myself and then make a manual and get someone to follow my instructions and just pleasure me…

I want to get headed up.

Today, I might even reciprocate with a heads up down there but ‘a head there please’ *assumes head position*

Eich-two-oo!!

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This post is going nowhere near literary neatness..there is no point number one or point number three..be warned.. I just felt like scattering my brains here..so I was wondering about sex, and what makes it such an insatiable activity.  Why the hell don’t I ever get enough? The I tried to remember the feeling sex brings to me. All through the sexology lesson, from kisses to the moment we say cum or go, there is always a feeling of wanting more. That what he is giving is not enough… if he is deep, you want him to go deeper, if he is kissing you, you want him to increase the passion,… the feeling of him not fully fitting…trying to pray to God to miraculously and instantly fatten him… if you know what I mean. I think the insatiability you experience during sex is what makes it addictive. Wanting more and more…

And speaking of wanting more, today in the shower, (girls, move closer…) I discovered something. I had been having a slow day, and I took my slowness to the bathroom to wash it away. I let the hot water flow freely , then saw that I needed to shave…a small bush was developing somewhere…  (no, I do not wax, I shave…waxing puts me at a risk of plucking my clit together with the feathers…so id rather razor it…the feathers, that is, not the clit)…anyway, I indulged myself in the process of letting free the featherlings under a shaver and running water..hot water…

I do not know if you have ever experienced the feeling of hot water massaging your clit. Forgive me father, but today I think I just committed a self pleasuring sin…hot water does unto the clit what the breeze does to cherry orchards..zzzsssss (shaking the memory off…)))

Allow me to go back to the bathroom

Open Letter to Pathetic Kisser

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Dear Pathetic Kisser,

You may have heard that a kiss means everything to a girl. You will be on your path to romantic recovery if you read the following very very carefully and avoid the highlighted types of kisses of which you are exceedingly fond:

The painful kiss. The kisser here thinks that the girl’s lips are Hubba Bubba. He
chews them mercilessly, painfully and loudly, attempts to blow bubbles, even to swallow them. A girl can’t live with the agony of global warming AND the knowledge that her lips shall one day look like mangled chewed up brown bread.

The slobbery kiss. Girls understand that a kiss involves the exchange of life juices like left over brain drain. That we don’t mind. However, we don’t need a saliva transfusion. If all we wanted was to drink your saliva, we wouldn’t have to kiss. We would just ask you to spit in a glass.

The predictable kiss. If this kiss were a recipe, it would be How To Boil Water: A Twelve Step Guide. There is nothing to it. You could do it with your eyes closed! Spice it up. Tease her by making her expect one thing and then giving her another. Try other kiss patterns. Kiss her neck, ears, temples, breasts, belly. Kiss her imaginatively.

The prerequisite kiss. This kiss has a manual which reads: Step one, kiss her. Step two, have sex with her. Pathetic Kisser, kissing isn’t always a prerequisite for sex. For a change, why don’t you show affection as opposed to desire through the way that you kiss her? Vary the intensity and passion of your kiss to show her how much you respect or appreciate her, how much you’ve missed her. Kiss her to rekindle a love that is fading. Or kiss her to convince her to be with you, to make her fall for you. Kiss her very very slowly. Kiss her like you mean it. Kiss her to kiss her, not to have sex with her.

"Will she have sex with me later?"

The germ-infested kiss. Please, Pathetic Kisser, for the sake of the perpetuation of your own family name, don’t turn your mouth into a septic wound. Your breath shouldn’t smell like an ammonia pit if you expect to kiss a live human girl. Don’t let her taste maggots on your tongue. Yes, I had to put it bluntly like that. Now, go brush your teeth. If there is no toothpaste, try salt.

The solitary kiss. She is not a leper; touch her. Caress her. Run your hands through her hair, cup her cheeks, match your waists, hold her tight against your chest. You may pin her to a wall or to the couch or bed and just kiss and touch her. Make out, don’t just kiss. And making out doesn’t mean having sex (refer to the Prerequisite Kiss). And while touching her, don’t pound her with your hands and create escarpments on her body. A caress is supposed to be gentle, not maiming.

The Blue Moon kiss. This kiss is so rare it should be framed and hung in a museum. Avoid this kiss by kissing your girl every chance you get, not just when she graduates or when your loins are languishing (and yes, if you’re a Blue Moon Kisser, your loins WILL languish). The wonders that frequent kissing will do cannot be overstated. For one, the bond between you two shall be indelible, because it keeps being reinforced. For two, you will learn the art of war.

The right kiss

Kiss her disquiet away. Kiss her dumb when she speaks too much. Kiss her to get things done your way. Kiss her to make her forgive you for your transgressions. Kiss her to remind her of what she will miss if she
leaves you. Kiss her to kiss her.

You shall soon be indispensable. Your kiss can wrap a girl round your little finger; it’s about time you realized that.

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