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)

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The REAL Reason he liked Anal Sex (Part 4)

Doggy Style

Doggy Style (Photo credit: Travis S.)

It turns out that he was totally into fingering me from the back while lasciviously watching all those fingers he was jamming in come right back out.  He wanted me crouched on elbows and knees, butt up in the air and hey, whatever, dude. Doing it doggie-style happens to be one of my favorite pastimes anyway, so I was sport for this neat preparation for what I imagined was about to take place.

There was just one catch: the whole time he was getting me all moistened up, he was playing around ever more insistently with my freaking asshole.  Yes, we’ve all had our butt-holes played with, but good grief!  Did he have the lamp on my nightstand angled to create a spotlight on my hole or was this a figment of my imagination?

Oh dear! I was so very afraid of the possible escape of a fart or a queef!  I mean he was back there for an inordinate amount of time and I was beginning to wonder when on earth we were going to get this party started.  I was far more than ready, juices dripping everywhere. But he was in no rush whatsoever.  The more drippings there were, the more he smeared up and down my crack; pushing, probing, playing like a kindergartener let loose with finger paint.

I would be lying if I said that I the radar didn’t go off in my head that I was dealing with a kid with a butt fetish. I’m pretty open-minded and I realize that we can all get fixated on one thing or another, so I let him have his fun. And no, I wasn’t at all surprised when he popped the question. No, not marriage; the question about whether I was willing to allow him to take me anally.

The Drooler (Part 4)

Spittle Bug

Spittle Bug (Photo credit: Lottery Monkey)

And to his credit, he had done a really good job of making sure that I was well-attended-to sexually, notwithstanding the whole spit thing. As long as I blocked that out of my mind, I was okay. So I just concentrated on the good parts.

I did some gentle pushing to clue him in on my wishes for us to readjust—you know how careful you have to be with men—and although he had already gotten into his groove, it wasn’t like he was heading for home yet, so we repositioned. And that’s what I mean about perspective and how sometimes a little spittle can come in handy.

So, here we were, I in my favorite doggie-style kneel; and he, pumping from behind with a renewed zest and ferocity that surprised both of us. Man, oh man! This was the life. No reason for silver-tongued, white love-lies. No reason for time-wasting pretenses at courteous caresses. THIS was what sex was meant to be: thunder boomers and bolts of lightning.

This old man was shocking me with his stamina; he went on so long that I lost all thought of complaint for myself and my tortured little kitten. I was afraid for him. Like, can’t people go into cardiac arrest or something from that kind of exertion and stress on the heart? Or what about a stroke from the sudden and sustained elevation in blood pressure? It was too late now, though to think about the liability and the possible manslaughter suit his family might bring against me if this man died on my hands…or rather on my back.