A Word to the Wise about Hair Extensions and Sex (part 2)

Woman with classic length hair. (Painting by F...

Woman with classic length hair. (Painting by Franz Xavier Winterhalter, 1805-1873) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

My friend, Cheryl told me that this friend of hers (WHO SHALL REMAIN NAMELESS) lost some of her extensions while in the act of coitus. Hah! Frankly, I don’t understand how Cheryl can even really BE a friend to someone who obviously doesn’t care that much for me…but anyway, this is not about Cheryl, it’s about her “friend.”

Long story short (or should I say, long hair suddenly short!) she was doing the nasty with this guy she’d seen at a club and whom she’d managed to somehow impress. Too bad it was her fake 22-inch Indian Remi hair that caught his eye. It was both the beginning and the end of their one night stand.

According to Cheryl, her friend kept trying to guide his hands elsewhere when he kept attempting to get his hands in her hair during passionate kisses. Instead of foreplay it was more like a game of swat the pesky fly as she kept batting his hands away.

Finally, they began actual sex, much to her relief. She felt that she had successfully diverted his attention away from her hair on to other, more important things. Even though he protested, she reached for the lamp and gratefully cut off the light. While she was on her back, she felt relatively safe.

When she was on top, she felt in control; but she still had to sometimes keep swatting his hands away.

Once he got her from the back, all hope was gone. While doing it to her doggie-style, he smashed her face down into the pillows in front of her and grabbed her wrists behind her back. Her happy pleasure at this cool trick of turning doggie-style into pony-style lasted only a minute. Faster than the blink of an eye, he had both her tiny wrists in one of his huge fists and had decided to use her hair as the reigns, I guess. Because with his other hand he grabbed a fist full of hair and started yanking in rhythm with his thrusts.

As many guys have been known to do, he mistook her yelps of pain and screams of protest and bucking and thrusting as positive signs of pleasure. He was thrilled that she was as excited and close to climax as he was. And just as most guys think, he thought that the best thing would be to keep doing everything he was doing, only harder and faster.

Folks, you can see where this is going. There’s no need to prolong the announcement of the inevitable: Yes, he came. He exploded into her and was completely oblivious to the fact that the “reigns” had become particularly loose in some places and had come completely unattached at other places on his “pony.”

So, what have we learned here? Easy: You can lead an ugly pony to the bedroom, but you can’t be certain til afterward that he won’t go bald during sex. (adapted from an older version of the adage about leading a horse to water, but changed to make it more appropriate for this post.)

English: Miniature pony for kids to ride at th...

English: Miniature pony for kids to ride at the Feria del Caballo in Texcoco, Mexico State, Mexico (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Sperm in the Eye? Blindness may result! (part 2)

Sign for "London Handjob Centre" car...

Sign for “London Handjob Centre” carwash company (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

My friend who I was telling you about was very inexperienced. And the guy she was with was pretty forceful and insistent. Two other things were working against her. Number one, he kept pushing her head down closer to him—in my opinion because what he really wanted was a blow job. But she didn’t know how to do that either.  And number two, she’s a nurse with a genuine fascination with the human body, so she keep putting her face ever closer to his little rifle.

You can imagine what happened when this guy erupted. Gee whiz! He exploded right in her good eye. The left one. What would have been a totally wonderful moment for him was spoiled by her startled and then terrified screams. She was in both mental and physical agony as the burning started.  He—a total moron—sat there speechless with a now-limp and empty prick.

Well, as you can imagine, she thought she was going blind because this was a long time ago before she became a registered nurse and found out that sperm in the eye does not actually necessarily lead to blindness.

Still, I feel very sorry for her every time I think about what she must have suffered for those first few minutes as they argued about whether to go to the hospital: he didn’t have a valid license and she temporarily had only one valid eye, which wasn’t even the good one. Neither of them wanted to be responsible for the exorbitant costs of ambulances. (Have you called an ambulance lately?! OMG) Neither of them had insurance because he didn’t have a job–unless you counted the illegal drug transaction–s and she only worked part-time as an NA. Neither of them wanted to explain how she came to have a massive load of sperm in her left eye.

Okay, so she didn’t die and she didn’t go blind, but that is not the point. I just want everyone to know how seriously dangerous it can be to attempt the intricate art/science of jerking a guy off if you have no clue what you are doing. So BE CAREFUL. Absolutely no good came from her foray into this unknown terrain. Well, accept that she allowed her infatuation with the workings of the human physique to lead her to go back to school and become an official RN. But some people would say that the two things were not even related. Me, I know differently.

Again, you have been warned! And if I were you, and I was with a guy who wanted a hand job…well, I’d just tell him to go jack himself off!

He Couldn’t Contain his Excitement (part 4)

Stop X

Stop X (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

He knew that anything he said would incriminate him.  Yet he knew that everything rested on what he said next. I picked up where I had left off. “And that’s why I’ve tried to maintain my distance from you: I know you are faithful to your girl and I’d feel like crap if I attempted to interfere with that. I know you’re not the kind to would even consider such things anyway…”

“Oh, sweetie,” he half-moaned.  “Don’t look so sad. I can’t stand to see you with that expression,” he said, taking my face in his hand. I knew this was the beginning of the end.  He was resolved about what he would do, how far he would go.  He groaned, stroking my cheek with his thumb, “What can I do to take away that sad face, huh?”

“Stay with me,” I said plainly.  No need to mince words anymore; it was time to cross over together.

“Stay?” he repeated like he was in a daze.

I nodded like a little girl, not sure yet which character he most liked.

He chuckled faintly.  “How long?”

“As long as you want,” I said, instead of what I really wanted to say: forever.

He made a final brave effort to go. He stood up from the sofa so abruptly that I felt disoriented and humiliated.  My cheeks burned from embarrassment at having been so confident that he couldn’t resist me. “Uh, I better—“

“Yeah, I know,” I said, looking down at the floor.

“Well,” he sighed awkwardly. “Come here.” I guess he wanted to hug me goodbye. I couldn’t. Defeat had me glued to the sofa. I shook my head no.

“Don’t worry,” I said.  “I understand why you have to go.”

“Oh alright then,” he fake-grumbled, feigning gentle exasperation with me and with the situation. “Even if it’s just a little hug…” he said, almost to himself; as if he was explaining to someone like his absent girlfriend or whatever god, or whatever principle may be listening.

He sat back down on the sofa, scooping my unresisting body up into his arms.

He Couldn’t Contain his Excitement (part 2)

premature ejaculation man

premature ejaculation man (Photo credit: bioxid)

(And when I think about it, looking in the mirror that day even made ME hot! I was like dang when the heck did I get so freaking luscious and irresistible? How did this happen?!)

So, just as he should have done, he made no comment whatsoever about the fact that my half-naked breasts—rising and falling with every breath, jiggling with any hint of movement or laughter—were just begging to be caressed. We both knew that he would never be able to get out of my house without doing that.  Even a gay priest would have done it in spite of himself. Shoot, I would have done it, and I’m not even a lesbian (I don’t think.)

Well then, if you are looking for some sort of admission of guilt, there you have it. If I were going to feel badly it would be for how perfectly I laid the bed-trap for him to fall into. However, the reason I don’t feel badly is because I didn’t do it with him. I couldn’t. I was on my period. And for me, that is a definite no-no. Honestly I think I only ever did it twice while menstruating; once was sort of against my will, and the other was somewhat without my prior knowledge. (I’ll explain that at another time.)

Haven came all over himself and I didn’t even touch him!!

Well…no. I mean I didn’t touch him there. Well, okay, yes I did: at his insistence.

But I didn’t freaking jerk him off or anything.  He was actually one hundred percent dressed, pants totally zipped up and all.  And that’s the truth, even if no one believes me.

The way it happened was this. He had been there for only a little while before he said he really had to leave. I put on my very best wide-eyed pouty look, cuter than any puppy you’ve ever seen. I looked so sad that he just melted and said, “awww, well, give me a hug. And he pulled me to him, squeezing me tightly. Then there was that unmistakable moment of utter silence when two people are lost in their own thought about the implications of what is about to happen.

 

He Couldn’t Contain his Excitement (part 1)

English: Cropped version of a photo taken from...

English: Cropped version of a photo taken from http://www.flickr.com of a woman wearing a blue bra. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Have you ever made a guy ejaculate without touching him? I mean just by looking at you? If you have, then welcome to the prestigious circle with me. I didn’t even know I possessed such power, but apparently I do. Or at least that’s how it seemed…

A few years ago I met this guy, Haven, almost completely by accident because I needed a new tire and the shop where I usually go didn’t have what I needed. And now I ask you, “Why do I always only want the ONE guy that I cannot have?” Why am I doomed to never meet this guy first, before he is already obligated? I’m not exactly proud of what I did, and I would really be an emotional wreck if I didn’t have such a sturdy and resistant conscious. But since I do then I’m frequently able to keep things in perspective when other women start that insipid self-loathing and self-deprecation.

I mean, no one can say I literally seduced the man. He is a grown man after all, accustomed to operating in a man’s world—which is more than I can confidently say for a couple of my sexual partners (or victims, based on whose viewpoint you ascribe to). He accepted my invitation to lunch with his own motives even if it was only ostensibly to allow me to properly thank him for pulling some strings to get his friend to pass my car through the inspection this year, if you know what I mean.

However I am mature enough to admit that meeting him at the door with a see-through black tank-top that didn’t even pretend to cover the fuchsia lace push-up bra that lifted, separated and left bare almost half of my breast would have put him into the strange predicament of having to either pretend that he had suddenly gone legally blind, or that he simply was not truly a member of the male sex.

And really I don’t hold it against him for his premature ejaculation. Under normal circumstances that would have been downright unforgiveable. But when I think about it, there was not a lot going on in his favor at that moment when he arrived at my house:

Just in case the sight of my upper body wasn’t enough for him, I’d also donned low-rise body-hugging, highly stressed jeans that strategically allowed the tip of the satin and lace fuchsia panties to show. The sparkling, dangling earrings that were a perfect color match to my should-be-hidden undergarments, the nearly 30 pounds gone from my body since I’d first met Haven 6 months ago, the knowledge that he was alone with a beautiful, discreet woman who is head-over heels for him in spite of the fact that he’s happily living with someone…well, I suppose all those things working together would be enough to bring any man to his senses about what inevitably must be done in this moment…

 

The Drooler (Part 5)

Kamasutra Sex Positions

Kamasutra Sex Positions (Photo credit: HostingCoupons)

Leatherchrissy

Leatherchrissy (Photo credit: Miss Leatherchrissy)

I was terrified as I felt him lengthening and stiffening by the second. I fought the primal thoughts screaming in my brain (“spank that butt, Daddy!!) and tried to weigh the possible consequences of whispering a warning, “be careful!” which didn’t seem exactly appropriate for the setting. I could control my words, but my body had a life of its own, my rump autonomously jacking itself up and backing up against him. This was the moment, I could tell; for better or for worse we were about to crash and burn together. And then…

WTH? Just as I felt a hot geyser exploding into my uterus and head for my brain, I felt dribble landing in the crack of my upturned anus!!

Okay, this was the turning point. My cerebrum went into stupefied shock for a millisecond as the implications of what had just happened hit me. My more sensible self told me that this was an outrage and utterly repugnant. I knew for sure this time that the man had lost control; but oddly some other self inside me, the one which was already in mid-orgasm thought about the amazing feeling of something that unusual happening, and in such a sensitive spot, too! The orgasm kicked up into overdrive and we both fell down, I exhausted, and he, comatose.

The moral: There is no limit to what the human mind can conceive of as erotic. A little drool can go a long way in ratcheting up a mediocre sexual encounter with someone nearly 20 years your senior!

The Drooler (Part 2)

drool

drool (Photo credit: VinceFL)

I should have known not to continue once he drooled into my mouth during a long, passionate kiss. He was on top of me bringing the foreplay to a close and getting ready for the big entry. Things were going pretty well and I was admiring his muscle tone his thick hair and his broad shoulders. Oh, and the weight of his body crushing mine. That’s when I felt as much of his spit make its way down my throat as from a full Capri Sun packet! OMG, how horrific.

And it happened so fast that I couldn’t even say or do anything. I just lay there trying to control the gag reflex activated by the lukewarm spit from another human being that had just traveled down my throat.

I didn’t know what on earth had just happened! I mean was this old geezer so excited that he’d totally lost control of all his bodily fluids at once? Like was he suddenly going to pee, poop a loose stool, sweat, cry, and cum on me all at once in addition to this saliva outburst??

Or was it that he’d been concentrating so hard on maintaining control of the other stuff that he forgot about his spit? My beleaguered mind was racing with thoughts. What to do? Should I jump up and call the whole thing off for some bogus reason? Should I confront him about this senseless and inexcusable mishap and demand and explanation or apology or a promise that it would never happen again?