The Joys of Muffin Buffin’

Wow.

Just wow Lovers.

Huge. This is huge.

I just had my first orgasm in a YEAR!

That’s right Lovers, until about thirty seconds ago I had been completely buzz free. And do you want to know the best part? I did it all by myself!

Yep, I sit here typing, giddy with the afterglow I missed so dearly, the smell of freshly managed minge still fresh on my fingertips. (See this is why I never let anyone ever borrow my computer!)

I just had to tell you straight away Lovers. After all, you’ve been such faithful followers of my sexual journey! I didn’t even plan on paddling the pink canoe today. It was just a sublime coincidence of some spare time, a smutty book, tunes that reminded me of an amazing past fuck and an upcoming date on Friday.

Ah it still feels amazing! After it happened and I got over my shock I just lay in bed laughing uncontrollably. I’m so happy!

You see Lovers, for the past five or so years I’ve been on some pretty strong anti-depressants. After a breakup that left me teetering on the edge I just had to get some help. However, the doctors never told me about a certain side effect of these so called happy pills.

No. More. Orgasms.

How wrong is that? Orgasms are the one thing that can brighten up a cloudy day no matter what! Why do you think toilets have doors? Oh sure its got a little to do with the whole ‘modesty’ thing, but mostly it’s so anyone and everyone can be free to have a little fiddle judgement free!

Public toilets are not there for the reason you think people.

Next time you see someone emerging from a cubicle smiling ear to ear it’s not because the prune juice just kicked in, no no, it’s because they have just treated themselves to a little taste of what the good lord bestowed betwixt their legs.

I mean really, why would he give us girls such dexterous digits if he didn’t want us to use them?

Anyways, anti-depressants apparently act like the drugs on those dodgy late night ads for premature ejaculation. You know the one’s. There’s the disgruntled couple sitting in bed and then a miraculous voice-over pipes up with, “can’t get it up?” Or, “want to please your lady right?” Yeah, those one’s. Well, my happy pills effectively make me the dream date (if I was a dude.) That’s right, I can go longer, harder and faster. But who cares about that crap when you’re just a girl who wants to get her rocks off?

Don’t get me wrong, sex without orgasm can be and is still amazing, but a whole year with no finale?

Get fucked.

So for anyone out there who is experiencing the same issues as me, I can proudly say, when you get off the happy pills, the orgasms return! I always secretly feared that I’d lost them for good, but happy days, the queen has returned to her castle!

Anyways, I better go stretch, my  legs are killing me from all that delicious quivering and tensing.

Squee! Never give up hope Lovers!

Claire

xx

P.S I’ll fill you in on Friday’s date asap. I fully intend to have my way with him, so fingers crossed he’s a willing participant or I’ll have to bring out my new (lockable) set of handcuffs!

P.P.S The songs that just happened to assist in rocks being got off was Gypsy and the Cat. Just in case you need a little inspiration for your own session.

 

Flouting the Flange

Hello Lovers,

Yes today it’s just a hello. No olah’s, no hidey ho’s, no aloha’s, just a plain old vanilla hello.

Why? Well that’s just been my week Lovers.

Not a single Tinder match, message or skerrick of male attention.

Come to think of it not much female attention either. Although I did catch quite the saucy side-long glance from a delightful little minx on the tram home last night, so there was that.

Now I’m quite happy in my own company Lovers, very happy in fact.

But a girl has needs.

And this girl needs herself a good hard wang.

Preferably attached to a mildly attractive, sweet talking piece of man candy, sure, but not strictly necessary.

I mean really, here in Oz we’re just coming into the ultimate season of sex! It’s winter people, let’s snuggle!

Sweaty summer sex is hot as balls for sure, but there’s something about steaming things up under the doona (with sex that is, not Dutch ovens, as much fun as they are) that is so tantalisingly orgasm inducing you just want to get it on every night.

Oh my god Lovers, stop everything!

It’s as if the sex gods have heard my prayers!

Just as I have been writing this, something amazing has occurred! It may not be a date, but it could be something a MILLION times better! I just got a phone call from a certain artistic establishment inviting me to an information session to be a life model!

Ermahgerd! Naked drawing!

I looked up their website and now I’m even more excited as they specialise in EXOTIC life drawing!

Wow. Things are looking up Lovers!

In fact, in celebration of this milestone ( I mean really, how often do you get the opportunity to stand in front of people naked without getting arrested?) I’m going to repost one of my favourite stories I wrote for Valentines day a few years ago. Yes, that sounds much more fun that me moaning about my lack of sex!

So a mate of mine had just met her new boyfriend and I decided to write her a saucy little story starring herself and said boyfriend to help steam things up (it must have worked because they’re now engaged! You’re welcome guys.)

If you’ve read it before I apologise Lovers, but if you haven’t just imagine me as the character of Li (just, you know, female instead of male).

Enjoy my Lovelies, and wish me luck at the interview tomorrow!

“Get over here now!”

Maria winced as Kristen screeched at her from behind the counter. Damn, she’d been trying to stay hidden. With a sigh Maria disentangled herself from the layers of tinsel she was arranging and trudged to the front of the shop.

Kristen wasn’t so bad, on her good days. Unfortunately her good days only consisted of Christmas and her birthday. Today was not one of those days.

“What is this?” she hissed, snatching up tinsel from the counter

“Tinsel?” Maria replied, puzzled. Honestly, the woman was thirty two. You think she’d know the basics by now.

“I’m aware of that young lady,” Kristen bit back, practically sizzling with pent up anger. “What I’m not aware of, is what it’s doing in my shop during April!”

Maria took a step back as spit flew from Kristen’s mouth in all directions.

“You wanted a festive theme. I thought it would be something a little different.” Maria said tentatively.

“Oh it’s different all right.” Sneered Kristen. God she really could be a bitch when she wanted to be.

“Unfortunately, here at Luscious Ladies with Long Legs we value class and decorum, not tinsel!”

Maria bit back a smile as Kristen mentioned the name of her ‘boutique.’ In actual fact Luscious Ladies with Long Legs was really just a store for ladies who couldn’t fit into much else. Just like Kristen.

“Are you listening to me?”

Maria was jolted back to the present as Kristen’s beady eyes bored into her.

“You will fix it, and fix it now. Then you will get your bony little ass out of my shop without pay and without a reference. Do you understand me?”

Maria nodded, trying hard to keep her shocked expression masked as bitch face smirked at her like the cat with the cream.

“Now get back in that window.” She snarled “I’m going to lunch. Watch the shop.”

Maria opened her mouth to ask how to work the till but Kristen swished out the door before she could form the question.

What a cow! Maria sank to the floor, completely dejected. This was her last chance to save her career and she’d blown it. The Luscious Ladies contract was the final project before she was assessed and without a reference she would never get a real job. Maria just didn’t have the experience that everyone else had, didn’t have the crazy idea’s they managed to come up with. All she’d ever wanted to do was create beautiful shop windows. Something people would pause to look at. Something that would brighten a dark day, even if just for a moment. But that was over now. It looked like she would have to go back to the family business, just like her Mum wanted. Maria shuddered at the thought. De-sexing chickens was a job no human being should ever have to do, let alone full time.

Suddenly Maria was ripped out of her reverie as the tinkle of the door-bell sounded. She scrambled to her feet, smoothing her dress down as she did.

“Welcome to Luscious Ladies with Long…” Maria’s sentence trailed off as she took in the man standing in front of her.

Holy guacamole! He was dressed in a dark tailored suit that fit him like a glove. His shoes were polished to gleaming and laces tied with perfect precision. Maria’s mouth went dry as her gaze roamed hungrily over him.

“Excuse me?” he murmured, and Maria hastily snapped her glazed eyes into focus.

“Sorry.” She stuttered, still trying to get a handle on her reaction to this man. Looking up into his face, she thought she saw the ghost of a smile, but shook her head quickly to get rid of the idea.

“Can I help you?” she asked, confidence slowly returning

“Maybe, yes.” He replied cryptically

Maria frowned. Today’s not the day pal, she thought bitterly as she watched him stroll through the shop.

“Are you after a gift? Something for a friend maybe? Or perhaps,” Maria swallowed “a girlfriend?”

He grinned at her and Maria grabbed onto a hat rack for support. No man should be that dazzling when he smiled.

“No girlfriend.” He replied “Just… looking.”

For a girlfriend or clothes? Maria wondered to herself. When it looked like he was going to be a while Maria headed back to the window to start clearing up the mess she had made. So lost in her work, she didn’t notice the mystery hot man above her until he spoke.

“That’s a very interesting display.” He said softly

Maria yelped with surprise and jumped backwards, colliding with him and throwing them both into a pile of extra-long jeans.

“Sorry! I’m so sorry!” Maria cried, trying to untangle herself from him. He chuckled and helped her up as she slipped back onto him yet again.

She could feel her face going as red as the underwear she so foolishly chose to wore under her white skirt.

“Sorry.” She mumbled, unable to look at him.

“Its fine,” he laughed “oh and I’ve decided what I’d like.”

“What you like?” Maria frowned. Is he coming on to me? She thought.

“Yes, I’ll get that jacket on the left there.” He replied

“Oh!” Maria blushed another shade darker. Of course he wasn’t flirting with her! He probably just wants to buy his extra-long extra-large jacket and get the hell away from her.

She slid over to the counter with the jacket and fumbled with the till for a moment, willing it to life. It stared back at her, unmoving and blank. Beads of sweat started to form on Maria’s brow as she fervently searched for a button, any button to get the damn thing open. After five minutes she gave up. Peeking up at the gorgeous man in front of her she was surprised to see another one of those stunning grins plastered to his face.

He’s laughing at me! Thought Maria, although she wasn’t sure whether to be embarrassed or pleased.

“You know what? Just take it. It’s on special anyway and it’s the least I can do for practically assaulting you back there.” She jerked her head towards the window.

“I can’t do that.” He said back, dead serious this time “I don’t take charity.”

“Oh but it’s not-“Maria spluttered

“But,” he cut in “I do trade.” He fished inside his pocket for a moment before handing her a business card.

“Tonight. Six pm at the old town hall. I very much hope to see you there Maria.”

“How did you-” Maria started

He smiled and tapped her name badge.

“Six o’clock. Don’t be late!” he said over his shoulder as he strolled out.

Maria watched him leave, completely bewildered. What just happened? She glanced down at his business card. His name was Li and he was an artist. An artist? He certainly didn’t look like any artist Maria had seen lately. Maybe he charged a lot for his paintings. By the look of his suit he’d have to charge quite a lot.

Maria heard the laboured clip clop of stiletto’s under far too much pressure and knew Kristen was on her way back. Stowing the business card and thoughts of Li away she hurried back to the window.

The day dragged. After finishing the window and re-doing it in bland white, Maria was drained. Watching Kristen purr lovingly to all the customers made her stomach turn. If only they knew, she thought to herself. Finally the day was over and Maria was released from all things extra-long and extra-large. She walked home slowly, dumped her bags at the door and went straight to the bathroom. Nothing like a good bath to cure a bad day. As she sank into the hot water her mind drifted. Drifted straight to a certain stranger with almond eyes and kissable lips…

Stop it! Maria frowned. How could one man get under her skin so much? And why? Yes he was attractive, very attractive, but then so were a lot of other men. So why did she feel such a thrill when she thought about Li? There was only one way to find out.

Maria stepped out of the bath, sloshing water everywhere in her haste. She ran to her bedroom, threw on a dress and hunted for her shoes. Once located, she ran out the door, sprinting in heels towards the town hall. He said not to be late! She thought to herself. Oh well, better late than never. Maria grinned idiotically and surged forward, seeing the hall up ahead. Finally she burst through the doors, panting like a donkey trying to run the Melbourne Cup.

A few curious women turned to look at her but luckily most people were chatting animatedly to each other and didn’t notice her incongruous entry. After taking a few moments to compose herself , Maria surveyed the room. It was filled with about twenty people. Scratch that, twenty women. Odd, thought Maria. Surely men would be interested in art too, especially if Li was as good as he seemed to be. She shrugged and scanned the room for a free easel. Spying one in the corner Maria made a beeline for it. As she did so, she caught sight of herself in the mirror.

Oh God no! Staring back at her was a young girl in an enormous moo moo. In her hurry to get dressed, she had thrown on her one and only dress from Luxurious Ladies! Kristen had insisted on paying her in goods one week so she now had an entire drawer devoted to nanna knickers and this one dress. How could she have been so stupid? Glancing around Maria desperately looked for an exit, but she had well and truly backed herself into a corner. She noticed a few snide looks from the other ladies but chose to ignore them. Suddenly, inspiration struck. Digging into the enormous pockets of the dress, Maria found what she was looking for. She dove into her purse, hurriedly looking for her nail scissors and almost cried out in triumph when she found them. Keeping her elation on the down low, she hurriedly cut the fabric in her hand into one long strip. Discarding the rest behind her, Maria hurriedly wrapped the material around herself and formed a makeshift belt. Assessing herself in the mirror, Maria frowned. It wasn’t great, but at least she had given herself some semblance of a waist. Making sure no one was watching, Maria gave herself a conspiritual wink in the mirror. No one would ever know that her now belt was once an enormous pair of underwear.

Turning back to her easel, Maria tried to calm herself and take stock of her situation.

In the centre of the room sat a bowl of fruit. Wow, what an exciting hour this is going to be, Maria scoffed to herself, suddenly feeling very confident in her nanna belt. All that confidence whooshed straight out of her when she saw him.

“Ladies, take your places please.” His voice echoed smoothly through the hall, reverberating all the way up to the high ceiling.

Curiously, he was wearing the coat she had sold- well sort of sold him that very day. He walked around the room, chatting to a few ladies here and there, totally at ease. When he approached her however, something in his demeanor abruptly changed. Where he was open and friendly with the other girls, he was cagey and stiff around Maria. What is his problem? She thought in frustration. Right then and there she decided to draw the best damn fruit bowl he had ever seen. Yes, she thought, nodding to herself, stick that in your pipe and smoke it.

Li assumed his position in the centre of the room. All eyes were trained intently on him. He looked around the room, pausing occasionally to look at a chosen few before launching into his speech.

It was the usual spiel, how to create shapes with the charcoal pens, shading, light and darkness blah blah blah.

Maria was captivated. Every move he made, the fluid motion of his arm sliding across the page as he drew was like an exotic dance. She didn’t realise she was holding her breath until he looked at her. Then it awkwardly came out in a rush, making a sound like a deflated balloon. Maria wanted the ground to open up and swallow her. Li smiled his sympathy at her and for a moment she felt just a tiny bit better.

Suddenly Li clapped his hands and announced it was time to begin. Maria nervously picked up her charcoal and started on her fruit bowl, laboriously drawing it exactly to scale. She was almost finished her outline when she finally registered all the soft giggling that was issuing from all around her. She looked up, and her jaw dropped.

He was naked!

Jesus Mary and Joseph’s Holy House of Tinsel! Maria gaped at him, completely nude, and by the look on his face, quite proud of it. What planet was she on? The piece of charcoal she had been holding slipped out of her hand and clattered to the floor. Li looked over at the sudden noise and Maria ducked to the floor to retrieve it. As she did she smacked her head into her easel, knocking it to the floor with a crash.

“Shit!” she cried out loud. When she looked up, a naked Li was running straight for her. “I’m fine!” she shrieked, trying to scare him and his shockingly naked figure away from her “It’s all good! I’m fine!” She repeated, trying to right her easel once more. Li slowed down to a walk and padded up to her.

“You ok?” he asked

Maria couldn’t look at him. Where the hell was she supposed to look? She definitely knew where she wanted to look. Don’t you dare, her subconscious screamed at her. She stared straight ahead, immersed in the blank sheet of paper in front of her. She could feel a red flush creeping up her neck towards her face and willed him to go away so she could die in peace.

Thankfully he got the hint and with one more concerned glance at her he strolled back to the middle of the room. Maria tried to get a hold of herself. This was not what she signed up for! It’s better. Whispered a little voice inside her head. Maria sternly kicked the thought out and resolutely picked up her charcoal. He wants me to draw him? Fine, I’ll draw him. She thought wickedly

Starting in the left hand corner she drew a crude stick figure of Li with enormous hands and feet. Giggling to herself she then drew a sumo version of him, with fat over flowing everywhere. Oh yes, this is what she called art.

Maria snuck a peek at the ladies next to her and was slightly sobered by the fact that all the other women were drawing very lifelike, very well drawn pictures of Li.

Suddenly Li clapped his hands again and changed positions to ‘The Thinker’ pose. Oh she could think of many a thing she’d like to do to him right now. Damn it Maria just draw! Her inner voice chided.

She took a deep breath and, trying to remember the earlier lesson, started to draw. Once she got the hang of it is was fairly easy. She followed the smooth contours of his back, up his neck to his head, then down the front across his stomach to his delicious looking snail trail and then… Then she stopped. How was she supposed to draw that?

Tricky. Very Tricky.

The earlier lesson suddenly sprang to mind. Li had said something about picturing objects as just shapes, then tweaking the shapes as you drew. Maria glanced at Li and then at the fruit bowl. A pineapple maybe? An unladylike snort escaped her mouth as she pictured it. How uncomfortable! Trying to control herself, Maria contented herself with a banana and two grapes. It was a toss-up between the grapes and some mandarins, but the grapes won her over with how fresh and ripe they looked.

Ever so slowly. She tried to draw the complicated male anatomy. Good god it was difficult. Gently gently, she traced up his left thigh then down his right, feeling a slight flush colour her cheeks as she did so. She felt so naughty!

Without warning Li clapped his hands twice. Maria was startled out of her erotic reverie and with a squeak of dismay, realised in her fright her charcoal hand had slipped down the page, giving Li quite the endowment.

Crap. She thought. It had all been going so well. Maria shrugged and tried to turn to her next page. The clip holding it in place was as stiff as Maria had drawn Li and she struggled to budge it even a little.

Suddenly, she realised Li was not in the middle of the room any more. With a sinking feeling she searched the room for him and to her horror, saw that he was walking around to inspect people’s drawings!

No! No! No! Her brain screamed. He was about to see what a messed up pervert she was! Maria lunged onto her easel, pulling and tugging at the clip, desperately trying to open it. All the while Li edged closer. Come on! She cried to herself. Abandoning the clip she scrabbled for the top of the paper, attempting to rip the page off completely. He was two steps away, one step away-

Kill me now.

“How did you go Maria?” Li asked from behind her. She could hear the smile in his voice as she stood in front of her easel, trying to block his view.

“It’s all right Maria.’ He said with a chuckle “Everyone has to start somewhere. We can’t all be Picasso’s straight off.”

Maria looked up at him, mortified. This was just not her day. You should have stayed in the bath pervy. Her subconscious sneered at her.

She sighed, and knowing there was nothing more she could do, stepped back to let him see the picture.

Just looking at his face told Maria all she needed to know. She grabbed her bag and ran. God she was so stupid! Tears of shame ran down her face as she ran.

She heard a cry from behind her but didn’t look back. She would stay in her house forever and never see anyone again. She would become an expert at all things Judge Judy, Doctor Phil and Ellen. Switch off her phone and make a fish bowl out of her computer. Yes, hermit Maria had quite the ring to it.

Just as she was thinking how to board up her windows she stumbled and fell hard onto the road.

Son of a bitch!

Maria wasn’t sure if she said that out loud or in her head, but she did know it hurt. A lot. Picking herself up she went to walk on, but her heel was jammed into the bitumen. Damn, she sighed. Yanking her leg, Maria tried to pull herself free, but her foot wouldn’t budge.

“Come on!” she yelled in frustration. And that’s when she heard the noise.

She turned to the left and coming down the hill was a big, no huge, blue rubbish truck. What was even more terrifying was the big red man chasing after it. The driver.

Maria screamed and frantically pulled at her leg. The truck came closer and closer, building up speed as it went. No, it couldn’t end like this, it just couldn’t, not with nanna undies wrapped around her waist!

Suddenly all the air whooshed out of her as she was propelled off the road and onto the footpath.

She landed with a thud onto the concrete, bruised but alive. She tried to get up but something was holding her down. As it turned out, not something, but someone.

“Gerrofme.” She grunted, struggling for air as that someone pressed down on her.

“Sorry!” cried a familiar voice.

“Li?” Maria sat up and looked at her rescuer, noting as she did so the crowd of people still running down the street after the truck as it whooshed past.

“Are you all right?” he asked, taking her back to that morning in the shop.

“You- you saved me.” She breathed

“You looked like you could use a hand.” He smiled gently at her and held his hand out to help her up.

“I’m sorry about the picture.” She stammered “I didn’t mean to draw that um, what I drew, that is, well you know.” Maria trailed off, not sure what to say as the enormity of what had just happened started to sink in.

Li laughed and gave her shoulder a little squeeze “Happens all the time in my line of work. Don’t sweat the small stuff.”

“Or the big.” Mumbled Maria, still embarrassed. “Why did you come after me?” she asked quietly

“I couldn’t let you get away again.” He said solemnly

“Again?” she asked, puzzled

Li sighed, and then it was his turn to look embarrassed.

“I did some mural painting for an erotic novel store a few months ago,” he began, and Maria tried hard to hold back her smirk at the thought of Li painting in a porn shop.

“It was in a small shopping complex with all sorts of stores thrown in. Anyway, I was directly across from a ladies shoe store-”

Maria clapped a hand to her mouth as realization struck.

“High Heeled Hotties.” She gasped

“That’s right.” Said Li. His eyes suddenly turned wistful “There was this girl in the window one day. She was struggling with this huge paper-mache shoe, trying to get it above her head” Li chuckled, a soft sound from deep in his throat. “She was so determined to get it done, and I just couldn’t tear my eyes away from her.”

Maria watched on as he became serious again.

“She was so beautiful. Everything about her was perfect. The way she moved, the frustration on her face as she fought with that damned shoe, and then the dazzling smile that appeared when she finally finished.”

“Me?” Maria breathed. “You thought all that about me?”

“How could I not?” said Li, pulling her a little closer “I decided right then and there that I had to meet you. Even if you were married, had a boyfriend or thirty six crazy cats I just had to talk to you. But the next day, you were gone. And honestly Maria, it was as if I wasn’t the same person anymore. My world had been rocked and now that you weren’t a part of it any more it wasn’t worth much at all. I didn’t know where to find you, didn’t even know where to start. I asked in the store but they didn’t know where your next job would be. I thought about you for weeks. Actually it was a bit embarrassing thinking about you in some of my classes, if you know what I mean.” He grinned and Maria blushed furiously.

“But then today I just happened to have lunch at this café. A café I’d never been to before and there you were. As frustrated as ever, wrapped in tinsel with some witch shouting at you. When she left I couldn’t stay away, and after I met you, you were even more amazing than I could have ever imagined. Your laugh, your crazy habit of blushing every two seconds and that sparkle in your eye, it was all so intoxicating. Then I saw you about to get cleaned off the road by some truck and my heart almost stopped.” Li stepped closer again, effectively eliminating any space between them. Maria could feel his chest rising and falling with each shallow breath. Good God, he was the intoxicating one, not her. She had to resist the urge to wrap her arms around him and rest her head on his shoulder.

“Maria,” he said softly “you would make me the happiest man alive if you would let me take you to dinner.” Maria giggled, letting all the tension from the day flow out of her as she did.

“I’ll go to dinner with you Li,” she said “But I was wondering if I could ask a favour.”

“Anything.” He said, smiling down at her

“I do window displays for a living, and it’s always been my dream to do a little ‘living art.’ Think you might be interested?”

She watched as Li grasped the idea of what she was proposing.

“Which shop?” he asked, a bemused look on his face

“A little place called Luscious Ladies with Long Legs.” She said conspiritually

Li Grinned “Done deal pretty lady.”

Maria whooped with delight and threw her arms around him. She couldn’t wait to see Kristen’s face when she showed her the new ‘window treatment’.

“Come on, let’s get back to class before they think you’ve kidnapped me.” Li said, taking her hand.

Maria swatted him playfully on the shoulder before sliding her hand into his.

And so they walked back to the hall, Maria the perfect girl, with her perfect artist boyfriend…. Who was still butt naked.

Claire xx

Pickup line of the week: Nice pants, can I test the zipper?

 

The Very Vacant Vagina

Hidey ho Lovers!

Well this has got to be the strangest environment I have ever blogged from! I’m currently sitting on the floor of my completely empty apartment at 7am in the morning, an unopened box of Krispy Kremes next to me, waiting for the end of lease cleaners to arrive and clean up my… mess.

It’s kind of sad though isn’t it; leaving a place you’ve gradually filled with memories, good and bad, sexy and decidedly unsexy.

But to an outsider it’s just dust and empty bottles of lube.

Just kidding Lovers, of course I disposed of my lube receptacles! I’d love to say I had a wild lubed-up party, complete with lube wrestling, a lube slip and slide and lube face painting, but sadly I just threw the mostly empty bottles in the bin.

Maybe I’m losing my edge in old age?

Either way, my collection of lubricants has been categorically streamlined.

Ok, so now that I’ve filled you in on the lube situation, how about we move onto the rest?

Well that’s just it Lover’s, there is no rest! My vagina has been decidedly vacant for the past two months!

Oh sure there were opportunities, take a recent wedding for instance. As a bridesmaid, I was looking forward to some hot ‘don’t even know your name but lets do it under the table anyway sex’. Plus as I flew interstate to be at the wedding I figured the sex karma gods would recognise my good deed and reward me accordingly.

My groomsman was hot, that was for sure. When I first heard I was being paired with the bride’s little brother my heart sank. Multiple images of some snot-nosed fourteen year old with a slingshot kept coming to mind. (Clearly I’d been watching the Sandalot Kids too much.)

Then I remembered we’re all teetering on 29 and any ‘little brother’ was sure to be at least of legal age.

Woah was he legal all right!

Nice, very nice, I thought to myself.

There were only two obstacles barring me from clambering on top of him between the main course and dessert.

First and most importantly, he had a girlfriend, and a damn sexy one at that. (I did muse on the idea of including them both for a moment, but girls that fine rarely enjoy sharing.)

So there was that, but the other complication was me and my tumultuous relationship with the sun. Rocky at best, on that 3o degree-day we were most definitely having… issues.

As soon as I took my place at the head of the aisle I knew I was in trouble. Standing in full sun with no shade to speak of, I felt my butt instantly mist up with sweat particles, ready to release.

And boy did they release!

I’m really not keen to see the wedding video, as if there is any footage of me during the ceremony, any at all, I’ll probably just have a look of impending doom stamped across my face, ineffectively masked by an ‘everything is fine, isn’t this a lovely wedding’ smile.

Want to know why Lovers? Oh I’ll tell you why! Rivers of sweat were running down my legs in a downpour of salty disgustingness.

I pressed my thighs together in an attempt to stop the flow, but it just resulted in damming the onslaught before I finally had to unclench.

Good god the heat! Was there a puddle forming at my feet? Could people see me making it rain in the worst possible way?

Don’t be silly Claire, they’re all looking at the bride, I told myself as I felt a rivulet of sweat drop slowly into my eye.

Argh it burns!

Be cool, be elegant, be the bridesmaid.

I’m melting!

By the time the ceremony was over I looked nothing like the member of the polished bridal party that had stepped out of the limo half an hour earlier.

No no no, I was a hot mess.

So it was no surprise that when the groomsmen came over to stand behind us, my man looked none too pleased with his sweaty, uncoordinated bridesmaid.

Oh yeah did I mention I almost stacked it up the aisle?

Needless to say, no sex was had at that wedding, and I spent most of it alternating between sweating profusely on the dance floor and bathing in the bathroom sink.

Good times.

So, what else has been happening? Hmm, well here’s what I can tell you Lovers, Tinder men are just as socially retarded as ever. Here’s a conversation I had yesterday, word for word.

Peter: Sex?

Me: Female

Peter: This user has unmatched you.

Looks like Peter has no sense of humour.

Plus when did it become acceptable to ask for sex before even saying hello? Manners people! If you want to be sticking your joystick in my x-box at least have the decency to start a conversation first!

Oh and then there was the situation last week, what a balls up! It was a Sunday afternoon so naturally I had just woken up from an afternoon nap. I looked over at my phone to see a message from a Tinder dude.

He seemed cute and definitely seemed to have an ok body. Normally I wouldn’t be super fussy on the bod stats but as this fellow seemed more interested in physical pursuits it was pretty important.

I’ve never actually gone out and hooked up with a Tinder guy straight away.

I mean sure there have been times when I’ve been so horny I’ve just thought, “whoever turns up on this date is coming home with me’ but that has always been for me to know and him to find out.

To meet up with a guy for a ‘coffee’ (which I’m sure neither of us would have drunk) and then get naked pronto has never really been my style.

But hey, beggars can’t be choosers right? And at this point, the old vajayjay was certainly begging for it.

I tried to get him to pick a place but the dodgy bastard just kept telling me to come to his place. This pissed me off for two reasons. First of all, stranger danger! The douche obviously had no regard for my comfort or safety. He just wanted some friggin door service. That was the other thing that annoyed me.

Sure I wanted sex just as much as him, but it felt a little too prostitutey for me.

I am alone in this girls? Am I being too much of a prude? Is it too much to ask in this day and age for him to put on some clothes and meet me at the closest café to his place before we engage in the hopefully (but by no means guaranteed) great coitus?

It’s definitely a thinker.

Sexual freedom to do what I like? Great. But I also yearn for the respect of the old days where putting out wasn’t expected, but rather fervently hoped for.

Anyways I’d just showered and shaved every inch of my body (and believe me, the deforestation of my lady garden took quite some time after its months of misuse) when I got a message from the dude.

Freshly bathed and ready for some stranger sex, I picked up my phone, only to throw it against the wall moments later.

The message read “sorry, I totally forgot I’m sposed to help a friend move today. Can we do it tomorrow?”

Fucking fuckery fucking fuck nuggets!

Are you freaking serious? I was literally seven minutes from walking out the door and he pulls this shit on me?!

No suprises then that I shut him down rather quickly on his piss poor rain check. We haven’t spoken since.

Shocker.

The worst thing was I was primed and ready with no penis in sight! I put out feelers to all my tinder men but not a single bite.

Typical isn’t it, the one time I’m up for it all the annoying guys who just want sex are either offline or feeling too delicate and precious to give it up.

Gah!

So anyways Lovers, if you too are on quite the sex drought, you no longer need to feel alone!

Claire

Xx

Pickup line of the week: See my friend over there? She wants to know if you think I’m cute.

When one muff just isn’t enough!

Aloha Lovers!

Ermagerd my Lovingtons, so much has happened in the past few weeks! Where to begin? Ooh, I know, let’s start with my very first date with a poly guy. Poly guy? I hear you inquisitive little imps inquire, what do you mean poly guy? Well it’s not some dude who likes to dress like Pollyanna and spank anyone within a five metre radius, I can tell you that! No no Lovers, poly is short for poly-amorous, or in other words, people who date more than one person at a time.

Why would you go on a date with a guy who already has a girlfriend? Slow your roll with the questions Lovers, all will be explained I promise!

So, about a month ago I matched  with a guy on Tinder, lets call him Ainsley. I wasn’t especially attracted to Ainsley at the outset but what drew me to him instantly was his desire to become a sex therapist.

Hark! A kindred spirit!

I was tickled pink when we matched and instantly began talking about deep sexual theories and kinks. It was so nice to discuss this type of stuff without having to explain what sploshing or BBW or CAT techniques were.

We chatted almost every day until last night when we decided to finally meet. I wasn’t nervous at all to meet Ainsley, as unlike regular Tinder dates there was no pressure to form an instant connection. I knew it wouldn’t be awkward because if we ever lapsed into silence I could just bring the conversation back to our favourite topic; sex! I wanted to meet him, that was for sure. What I wasn’t sure of was the etiquette of the situation. Could I kiss him if I wanted to? Did I need to ask permission from his girlfriend? What if I really liked him and wanted him for my own? And even more pressingly, if I couldn’t have him for myself, could I become a secondary and be happy?

I decided the best thing to do with all these questions swirling around my head was to take a nap.

Naps solve everything. Feeling tired? Take a nap. Feeling sick? Take a nap. Feeling horny? Well maybe flick the bean first and then take a nap.

The only downfall of the sacred nap is the age-old issue of not setting that damn alarm. Safe to say all those pesky questions flew right out of my head as I whipped around the house, attempting to brush my teeth and button my dress at the same time.

Turns out I’m not multi-dexterous. I found that out the hard way.

So after switching out of my toothpaste stained dress and grabbing my keys, I ran to the bus stop, shoes in hand and eyebrows decidedly unplucked.

And missed my bus by about three and a half seconds.

Fuck fuckity fuck.

After ten minutes pacing back and forth at the bus stop, willing the bus into existence, I gave up and ran down to the closest tram stop. Luckily for my sweaty self, I was just in time to jump on and catch my breath.

Eventually I made it to the bar and dragged myself up the stairs and into the blessed air conditioning. Due to my lateness I had promised Ainsley the first drink on me. What I hadn’t expected was for him to choose a bloody $23 drink!

What a bugger.

Add to that the bartenders apologetic explanation of charging an extra dollar on all EFTPOS transactions and I ended up footing the bill for a $35 round (and all I got was a Heineken!)

Safe to say this was going to be a one round date.

Apart from his expensive taste in drinks, Ainsley was a nice enough dude. He was chatty, interesting and had his fair share of Dad jokes he was eager to share. Plus of course there was the devoted interest in sex without the gross sleaziness that often accompanied such conversations.

However, as often happens with people who are experts (or hoping to become experts in the future) he was a little high handed. It was at times difficult to get my opinion across. Every time I said something he could call on all sorts of academic information I didn’t know or even understand to rebuff me. I kind of expected this though, as most intellectual guys I meet like to display their knowledgeable prowess. So I indulged him and didn’t press my points too much.

What I really didn’t like though,was when he scoffed at my career ambitions. Ainsley had asked what I wanted to do in the future and of course I answered that I would absolutely love to be an established author or sex columnist. To this he replied “what, so you want to be the next Carrie from Sex and the City?”

It wasn’t even the words that stung that much, it was the dismissive way he said them. To have someone I saw as a sexual peer of sorts pish tosh my dream was pretty hurtful. Just because I didn’t want to write some scientific thesis didn’t mean I was any less. When I tried to explain this blog to him he assumed it was just some hobby, some tiny side project to fill my spare time.

What a little bitch.

However, bitch status aside, Ainsley really was very nice when he wasn’t on his high horse. I loved how passionate he was about his honours degree and that fact that we could chat about anything without the shocked faces or embarrassment. (Although I must say the couple next to us were certainly getting red-faced whenever I blurted out questions such as ‘yeah but was there actual ejaculation?’ or Ainsley would say ‘oh yeah porn can totally be helpful in learning how to go down on a girl!’ I think their date was much more pg rated.)

The one thing I had to get used to was the fact Ainsley was texting his girlfriend throughout the date. It wasn’t super overt but it was definitely an obstacle. It was just like when I arrived, there was no compliment of how nice I looked or anything like that. Why? because he didn’t need too. He already has a girlfriend, or in the poly world he already has a primary. At most all I will ever be is a secondary.

Kind of takes the romance out of it doesn’t it?

Normally I might be a bit miffed if a guy is texting and taking calls on a date, but in this situation it was basically like it or lump it.

The weirdest part of the date? That would probably be when his girlfriend called and offered to pick us up from the bar and drop me home.

Woah, that’s a first.

It was super nice of her but unfortunately it did cut the date short, to the point where I had to skull my half full glass of wine.

I don’t like rushing my wine.

But it wasn’t up to me, she was parked outside and we didn’t want to keep her waiting.

It was at this point I started to see the pro’s and con’s of a poly relationship. Most of all I realised a very important factor that seemed critical to success in the poly world. You really need to have a primary. Ainsley and his girlfriend had been together for five years and were rock strong. They could go back to each other after every bad date, every fight with a secondary and completely be there for each other. If the secondary doesn’t have a primary, who do they go back to?

It’s kind of lonely to be a secondary.

The primary’s have all the power and as Ainsley recollected, at times the secondary is left by the wayside if the primary needs more.

I think poly could be great, but I would rather be a primary searching for secondary’s rather than a single secondary.

After I was very kindly dropped off by my date’s girlfriend (still sounds so weird to say that) I felt a sense of unease. I felt as though I had just been entertainment for a happy couple.It’s like they bought tickets to an Adele concert and I was the Pussycat Dolls warm up act. Pussycat dolls are fun, but everyone’s just waiting for Adele to come on stage already and blow them away.

This was demonstrated even more vividly when there was no follow up text that night. Even on my very worst dates there has always been the obligatory “thanks for the meetup, I had fun” or something along those lines.

But my date was busy with his girlfriend, so why would he bother?

Now Lovers, if any of you are secondary’s I would love love love to hear how you feel about it, especially if you don’t have a primary. Am I taking it all wrong? Am I being too conventional? Or is it really as shitty as it feels?

I look forward to your stories my sexy beasts!

Claire xx

Best bonking song: Not Above Love

By: Aluna George

Best Used: If sex is getting boring and you want a giggle halfway through, pop this on your playlist. I don’t know about you Lovers, but when she sings the chorus “I’m not above love” it totally sounds like she’s singing “I’m not a butt plug”

Juvenile? Yes

Giggle inducing for me every time? Double yes!

 

 

 

 

 

Two hands, three vibrators and a butt plug

Well now, that title sounds like quite the fun filled romp, doesn’t it Lovers?

But alas and alack my Lovelies, ‘twas not. ‘Twas very much not!

I suppose it all centres around the quite disturbing trend I’m discovering amongst my gentlemen callers of late.

We meet on Tinder (of course) and said gentlemen appear normal, attractive and able to string a sentence together.

Good start.

The date is arranged and they arrive, all puffed up and full of confidence, strutting around like tipsy peacocks, occasionally flashing me the odd fancy feather (although lately all the flashing has usually taken place days beforehand on Snapchat.)

Up to this point everything is trucking along fine, or if not fine, at least manageable.

It’s when I take them home that the problems start.

Take Ryan for instance; yummy yummy Ryan. We went on a date over a year ago and it went well. Unfortunately, Ryan lived on a farm in the middle of nowhere and was a class A workaholic. As hard as we texted there was no way of keeping anything alive and the date was soon forgotten.

So you can imagine my surprise when out of nowhere Ryan texts me to say he was in town and he’d like to catch up.

Happy days!

Sexy farmer for one? Yes please!

I hastily agreed and asked what he had in mind activity wise.

What I hadn’t expected from my quaint country boy was the phrase “let’s get kinky!”

I won’t lie Lovers, I was genuinely disappointed with his answer. A huge part of me thought that maybe our connection, the tiny spark between us (a spark I may have very well dreamed into existence,) was what had spurred him into texting me for a genuine date.

You know, dinner, beers and sex. It’s the perfect combo!

But sadly he was just interested in sex, and kinky sex at that. He knew of my passion surrounding all things sex so I suppose he thought there was no need for flirty repartee or any semblance of subtlety.

Bugger.

Oh well, I thought with a sigh, kinky sex with farm boy had to be better than my regular Tuesday afternoon.

Nope. Wrong again.

Ryan arrived at my place around one in the afternoon. As I went to buzz him up I thought I heard him talking to someone through the speaker.

Good God had he brought a playmate with him or something?

I waited tentatively by my door as he climbed the stairs to my apartment.

And that’s when I heard it.

Barking.

Holy fudge-monkeys! He’d brought a dog! If there’s anything I love more than farm boys its farm dogs.

I watched with glee as a gorgeous little jack russell bounded up the stairs behind Ryan.

Screw kinky sex, I could happily sit and play with the dog for hours!

After getting over my shock and excitement, I greeted Ryan and ushered him inside. Then, much to Ryan’s dismay, I greeted the dog with much more enthusiasm.

Hey if you don’t want to be overshadowed don’t bring an adorable ball of fluff with you dude.

Eventually, after much patting and belly scratching, I tore myself away from the dog and finally gave Ryan some attention.

We sat on the couch and chatted amiably for about an hour. I was really enjoying getting to know him and sex was the farthest thing from my mind. So when Ryan piped up and asked if I had nipple clamps it was quite the unexpected segue.

However, I did in fact have nipple clamps, (an essential for any girls top drawer don’t you think ladies?) and proceeded to fetch them for him. By the time I came back into the lounge room he was shirtless and ready to be clamped.

Tasty, very tasty.

He had just a smattering of dark chest hair that trailed down to his belly button before disappearing beneath his belt. Oh yes, I could definitely work some magic here, that was for sure.

After jokingly playing around with the clamps for a few minutes, Ryan suddenly grabbed me and said huskily “let’s go to the bedroom.”

Again with the subtlety.

We headed to my room and made out standing in front of my bed. Ryan could kiss, that was for sure, and that was usually a sure fire sign of bedroom prowess.

I felt a tingle of excitement issue forth from my panty hamster as she prepared for a good time.

Then Ryan said something that was enough to send said hamster scurrying back from whence she came.

“Let’s get nakey.”

Nakey?

Dude what are you, twelve? I shuddered as I contemplated an afternoon of baby talk. Was he going to call me Mummy and try to suck on my titty witties?

Kill me now.

Thankfully, after my less that positive reaction to the phrase, Ryan quickly reassured me that he just said it because he was nervous.

Riiiight.

I decided to believe him and so we did indeed ‘get nakey.’

Ryan was blessed with a Goldilocks penis (not too big, not too small, but just right) so I immediately initiated some A grade fellatio. He was loving it, sure, but things weren’t… as firm as they could be.

I massaged his balls, stuck them in my mouth and sucked seductively, switched between balls and wang and a whole other myriad of techniques, but nothing was really working.

I needed some help.

Enter vibrator number one.

I whipped out my small purple vibrator I had picked up in a show bag at Sexpo. The thing only had one speed and was fairly weak, but I thought it might have been enough to get Ryan up to scratch.

After a few moments with small purple I realised I needed more power, more speed.

Out came medium pink, my slightly more expensive and always dependable vibrator. Old faithful was usually good in situations such as these, so with the combination of pink and purple, there was no way I could lose.

But still no movement!

I asked Ryan if he was ok, was I overstimulating him? Did he like what I was doing?

He loved it all apparently, but sadly wanted more!

By this stage I was seriously running out of hands, not to mention the strain on my wrists trying to coordinate everything concurrently.

I delved deep into my drawer and found one of my silicone vibrating cock rings. I looked at it for a moment and shrugged. Couldn’t hurt to throw another vibrator in there could it?

After fastening the cock ring around Ryan’s semi flaccid penis, I went hard with my hands and vibrators. Good god, it was like trying to play three instruments all at once!

Still nothing.

I was about to give up when Ryan piped up.

“Got any butt plugs?”

Ah, he was a butt guy, maybe that’s why we weren’t achieving lift-off.

I wasn’t super pleased with this turn of events. I knew he’d been out running errands all day, so it would be safe to assume that the area was not going to be particularly fresh.

But I’d come this far (pun intended) so I may as well give it a crack…

I dug out a fairly intricate looking red butt plug and proceeded to probe the area.

But guys have so much hair down there I couldn’t find the bloody hole! I didn’t just want to jam it in and hope for the best, as this particular plug was quite knobbly and could be quite painful if not eased in nicely.

Eventually I found what I assumed to be an entry point, (certainly smelled like one anyways) and stuck just the tip of the plug in. Then it was on for young and old Lovers. For a solid ten minutes I did the work of three women! Hands here, mouth over there, rub this vibrator on that, clutch the balls now, butt plug in and out, in and out.

It was exhausting!

But finally we had success! The beef bayonet was standing to attention proud and tall, ready to lay waste to any beaver misfortunate enough to get in its way.

There was only one problem.

I’d spent over an hour attempting to jump-start his cucumber, but he hadn’t even touched my honeypot.

Time for some payback!

I lay on the bed and relaxed as the tongue that had showed such great prowess in my mouth now displayed its other talents betwixt my thighs.

It only took two minutes and I was good to go. I grabbed Ryan by the hair and dragged him up to meet me.

It was go time.

But we must always remember Lovers, that life is cruel and God needs a good laugh from time to time. Yes, in the two minutes spent on someone other than himself, Ryan had completely lost his boner.

Are you fucking kidding me?!

Ropable Lovers, I was absolutely ropable!

All that work for nothing? You’ve got to be shitting me.

The worst part is, after the wind left his sails, Ryan decided that that was the perfect time for him to head back to the farm.

So with a kiss on the cheek and a ‘thanks, I had fun,’ Ryan left me, naked and unsatisfied on a Tuesday afternoon.

Not happy Jan!

Claire xx

Pickup line of the week: Do you like my pearl earrings? I’m looking for the necklace to match.

 

The terrible tale of the mistreated muff

Urgh,

I did the unthinkable this morning Lovers! No, I didn’t turn a condom inside out and attempt to use it again. No, I didn’t wax a man’s initials into my lady garden, or my own initials for that matter (it’s not a business card people.) No, I didn’t purchase a shewee and a snuggy in order to experience a completely uninterrupted ten hour marathon of Outlander. No no Lovers, I did something far worse.

I cried during sex!

Oh god the shame of it all! This is exactly the reason I don’t relish the idea of morning sex, I’m not a morning person! So many emotions at 7 in the god dam am!

But surely it was more than the fact that the moon was still up that made you blubber like a baby Claire? I hear your question loud and clear Lovers, and as usual, your astute observations are spot on! I didn’t merely descend into tears at the sight, sound and smell of a man and his wang attempting to pry my legs open before my eyes. No no, it was much more than that.

Back story!

Ok Lovers, I’ll fill you in on this particular fellow in detail in further posts, but what you need to know right now is that I was suffering from one of the sexual maladies most people choose not to discuss.

Over and over I hear friends and colleagues cry out in frustration that their main man comes too soon. Often far too soon. And as girls we have incredible amounts of sympathy for these women. How awful to have that pivotal moment of orgasm ripped away from you as your man comes to a shuddering halt and collapses on top of you, sated and sleepy. This issue is one of the many women and men experience and talk about regularly, but what happens when you have completely the opposite problem?

There is no sympathy out there for girls like me Lovers!

Next time your swapping shag stories with your girlfriends, take a moment to appreciate the girl who moans about her chafed vag and aching thighs. Show her a little pity as she goes into detail about her marathon session, complete with multiple position switches, leg cramps and copious amounts of lube. Because I can tell you now Lovers, chances are, as jealous as you may be of her long time Lothario, if she’s anything like me, she only enjoyed the first twenty minutes or so. The rest… well that’s where the tears come in.

So I’ve been having sex with this fellow for about six weeks now, lets call him…Spencer. Spencer is a great guy, another lucky Tinder find, but to say we’ve been having some issues in the bedroom is putting it lightly.

The boy just never comes! Like ever. Never ever. Like times never by infinite and you still wouldn’t be close to it. We’re talking hours of P in V action with no finale.

We’ve had sex at least thirty times and not once has he popped his cork. Do you know how frustrating that is Lovers? The worst part is he absolutely adores blowjobs. Now, don;t get me wrong, I love giving a good bj when the occasion calls for it, and that occasion occurs often, but blowjobs have a time limit. I am not a bobblehead!

Argh the pain, the agony of the never-ending head job! Sometimes I have to do inconspicuous stretches during foreplay to prepare my body for whats about to come. Woe betide the girl who attempts this mission. First comes the subtle ache in the back of your neck as you mosh relentlessly up and down on his yogurt slinger. Next is the throbbing of your knees, elbows or whatever unfortunate limb you happen to be supporting yourself on. Finally, and what usually brings said job to a conclusion (or at least a downgrade to a simple handjob) is the tender muscles of your pleasure inducing mouth giving up the ghost and you either can’t stop gagging or you begin to seriously fear a case of lockjaw occurring. Nobody wants to rock up to the emergency room with the words ” gave too much head” emblazoned across their patient form.

So anyways, I think you get the idea Lovers, I’ve been matched by the scientists at Tinder with a marathon runner when I’m much more of a sprinter. The most frustrating thing about my sessions with Spencer however, is not their lengthy duration, but the utterly infuriating phrase he utters immediately after every romp.

“Gah, I was so close that time.”

Then fucking come already! Ooh the amount of times I have almost screamed this right at his sweaty face is becoming too high to count. The problem is Lovers, it’s always me who has to call time on our activities. I’ll go for as long as I can, but my poor little juicebox is just in tatters by the time he’s halfway done! I’ll wriggle and squirm, trying to find a comfortable position to wait out his pounding, but before long another layer of my flaps will have been thrusted vigorously away and I’m back to grinding bone against bone. I’m not proud of this Lovers, and as an avid sex lover it truly upsets me that I can’t pull a Survivor and outwit, outplay and outlast his randy shaft. I’ve tried cock rings (three different types of varying price), oral sex popping candy, pelvic floor exercises, ball slings and more. But I still can’t ride out that never-ending wave of copulation!

So you can imagine just how crap I feel when after trying everything I can, after continuing on long after all feeling has left my lower extremities and after giving as much encouragement and help as I can humanly give, when he sighs and says,

“That time, that time I was so close. Just a few more minutes and you would’ve had me.”

This is after two full hours of balls deep, pound the duck, solid boinking.

My little whisker biscuit can only take so much Spencer!

So, the crying, how did all of this equate to me ending up in a big old pile of tears?

As I said Lovers, I’m not a huge fan of morning sex, but I had promised Spencer a good time the night before so I let him do his thing while I lay there and fantasised about going back to sleep as soon as he left.

After a while we switched to doggie, a suprise new favourite position of mine. Normally things can feel a little uncomfortable with doggie, but with Spence something just clicks and it feels great; which is useful because he likes to stay in this position for ages. Anyways whilst in doggy Spencer has developed a bad habit of pressing down on my spine. Grab my  hips? Fine. Shoulders? Fine. Waist? Fine. Middle of my spine? Hands off dude!

It seriously feels like he’s going to snap me in two when he leans on my frigging spine and I tell him time and time again to get the hell off me. His excuse is always that he’s so caught up in the moment that he doesn’t notice.

Yeah, well I do buddy.

So this morning he starts doing the spine thing. I tell him not to. He does it again, this time while he’s pounding into me super hard. I tried and I tried to hold my position but I just couldn’t take it any more. Sex shouldn’t be painful!

I collapsed on the bed and felt his wang fall out of me.

“Damn! You would not believe how close I was that time!”

Aaaand that was it. I was gone. The combination of all the effort I had gone to, time and time again to satisfy him, coupled with the obvious failure time and time again plus the fact it was 7am and the fact that he had ignored my words and hurt me once again was just all too much.

The worst part of it all was that Spencer didn’t realise I was crying and simply shifted me onto my side and kept going!

Oh it was so humiliating Lovers. I just closed my eyes and waited for it to be over.

Luckily Spencer isn’t a total asshole and noticed pretty soon after that I was crying and stopped having very one way sex with me.

He wiped away my tears and asked what was wrong but I didn’t have much time to tell him as he had to get to work.

It was a very, very awkward way to leave things.

Never a dull moment in the sex life of Claire hey Lovers? I’ll fill you in on more next week!

Claire xx

Pickup line of the week: Want to have sex? Breathe for yes, lick your elbow for no.

Fuck it, go down on me lizard tongue

Merry Christmas, Happy New Year and Many Humpy returns Lovers!

What a whirlwind of a time the past few weeks has been! No I’m retracting that, what a whirlwind the past few months have been! You have no idea how much I have been up to Lovers. Between a budding relationship that I sadly had to pull the plug on yesterday, a kinky sex request from a Tinder man I was keen to disrobe and a very G rated Christmas with the family, things have just been wild (not to mention at times confusing! Note to self, do not attempt to sext a man whilst your two and three year old nephews are in the same room. Oh and on that note Claire, always always always lock your phone!)

Anyways, awkward family moments aside, we have a lot to catch up on don’t we Lovers? Now where did we leave off? Ah that’s right, I was right in the middle of only the largest gathering of like minded sexual deviants in Australia! The Saints and Sinners Ball! Ok, so I’d just finished having sex with Jake (with varying degrees of success) and I was feeling alive and slightly pungent.

After my aforementioned trip to the toilets to sponge off the remnants of my sexual tryst, I returned to Jake and plopped down beside him on our freshly christened beanbag. However we were promptly thrown off that freshly christened bean bag, due to the amorous couple eager to mark said beanbag as their own. Following our less than graceful dismount, we headed to the bar. Jake didn’t drink so we ordered a water (the dude wouldn’t even order a bloody coke! This is why I will never date a body builder, I need my sugar!) As we waited for our freshly squeezed tap water, Jake reiterated to me just how much he had enjoyed our session. I agreed with him and complimented him on his fine penis finesse, tactfully leaving out the part where he almost smothered me in a beanbag chock full of body fluids. Jake grabbed a card from the stack on the bar advertising local swingers parties and wrote down his number before handing it to me, a hopeful look on his face.

“I really had fun with you.” he said sincerely, “and I hope we can be friends. Call me and we’ll see a movie ok?”

I stared at him non-plussed.

Keh?

Normally once a guy has journeyed to the centre of the Claire things tend to move in a more… sexual direction. You know you tend to get requests like, “That was awesome, can we try the butt now?” or ” Wow what a ride, can you tie me up next time?” I must say I’ve never had a movie request, that was a definite first. I smiled at Jake and tucked the card into the top of my thigh highs.

Would I call him? Would this ‘movie’ lead to more? Did I really want to see him again? Would he try and smother me in a movie theatre seat? God knows what fluids those things have seen.

I never called him. Some things are just best left unknown, unsaid and unseen.

After I parted ways with Jake I circulated the three floors, taking in the myriad sights, sounds and of course smells wafting through the rooms. From the undulating mass of bodies writhing together in a unison known only to themselves on the bottom floor, to the satisfying smacks and thuds issuing forth from the third floor rooftop scene, there was no shortage of intriguing images.

However, this year felt different, wrong almost. After being a single lady for almost three years I have mastered the art of attending events solo, from the “I’m fine” smiles given to concerned strangers to the occasional conversation with a pool cue to pass time until an actual person shows any sign of interest.

But of course this was no ordinary event. I’d order a drink from the bar and strike up a conversation with the closest moving object, only to have them stare at me with shock, or worse, pity when I informed them I was on my own. I tried to allay their fears, assuring them that I was in no way bored, hadn’t been stood up and was definitely enjoying myself, but the looks remained.

It irritated me.

The complete freedom and lack of judgement I had experienced last time around seemed tainted this time. It was as if I needed to bring a man to enjoy myself; not a question but a statement.

I tried to shrug the feeling off and even rushed the stage when they called for volunteers to take part in the best dressed competition. Sadly I was hip and shouldered out of the way by the Kracken, but I suppose it just wasn’t meant to be. I mosied on over to the grope box which was obviously inhabited by a girl as no less than ten horny salivating men were shoulder deep in the grope holes, furiously grabbing at any piece of flesh they could reach. I flinched and clutched my honey pot in sympathy, imaging the the manic finger-blasting that girl must have been experiencing.

Yowsa.

Still, some people would do anything for that type of rogering, so I comforted myself with the thought of said lady screaming with pleasure rather than squirming away from a stray fingernail.

Absentmindedly I reached for the bowl of chips next to me, unaware I was being watched. As I crunched on my much needed sustenance, a sixty something lady leaned towards me and asked, “Do you dare?”

I looked at her blankly for a moment, not registering what she meant before realising she was warning me about the potent mix of food and the mass amount of body fluids flying about. Cross contamination was never a more real fear.

After I twigged to her meaning I laughed and replied, “Oh don’t worry, I’m so hungry I could eat anything right now.”

Bad choice of words at a sex party Claire.

The ladies eyebrows disappeared into her hairline and she quickly scurried away, mumbling something about how I just had to meet her husband.

I beat a hasty retreat down to the bottom floor and hid amongst the mass of bodies on the dance floor. Once I was sure the coast was clear I extricated myself (with some difficulty) and found a quiet wall to lean against. As I looked around I realised something startling. I was one of the youngest there, which meant most of the guys wanted me (so ageist I know, those forty year old birds knew tricks I couldn’t even dream of in my current state.) Because of this, there was no challenge. I could literally walk up to practically anyone, proposition them and find myself face down ass up in a matter of minutes.

But isn’t that what you came for Claire?!

It was, it really was, but now something had changed. I wanted the challenge, the chase, the fear of being rejected. Damn it, I think I wanted a boring old normal bar scene.

You’ve got issues Claire.

I nodded solemnly to myself, agreeing wholeheartedly with this observation. As I did, a guy coming off the dance floor noticed my nod and thought I was giving him affirmation for his sick dance moves. He smiled at me and performed a little show for me while I smiled encouragingly and bopped along. I wasn’t interested at all but I certainly wasn’t going to hurt his feelings by just walking off or something.

Unfortunately the dance show turned into him leaping onto me and sticking his tongue down my throat.

Urgh, lizard tongue.

When he came up for air he pointed downwards towards my juice box. I sighed and just nodded, anything to get that tongue away from my mouth.

So that was how I ended up leaning against a wall in a sex club, drink clutched in each hand, with an eager lizard tongue going to town on my lady garden.

God I was bored.

It was only when the photographer for the night strolled past and murmured “Dude, that does not look fun,” did I realise just how much I wanted to leave. Well first I wanted to get the photographers phone number, but then I wanted to leave.

However the photographer had melted away into the crowd like some sexy guardian angel, so I took it as a sign and filed him away in my spank bank. I tapped lizard tongue lightly on the head to get his attention.

“That was lovely, thanks!” I said as enthusiastically as I could muster. “Must dash though.”

And I ran before the lizard could ensnare me in his clutches.

I picked up my clothes from the locker room lads and put my ‘civilian clothes’ on with a smile on my face and hope in my heart, not to mention a slight tingle in the pink canoe.

So I left Saints and Sinners, freshly fucked once by a body builder and looking forward to returning to the normal dating scene, full of rejection, humiliation and sadly lacking in blowjobs on the dance floor.

Can’t win them all I guess!

Claire xx

Pickup line of the week: If I was an octopus, all three of my hearts would beat for you.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Not tonight Honey, I’ve pulled my ass!

Yes you read that correct Lovers, the other night I actually managed to pull my ass cheek.

But how is this achieved Claire? I hear you ask with wonder and awe. Well the truth is Lovers, I have no bloody idea!

I was hanging out with a dude I’d kind of being seeing for a few weeks (details about him coming in the next few posts I promise) when I had the sudden urge to pee. Nothing amiss there, I have the bladder of a seventy year old pregnant woman after all. So off I toddled to the porcelain throne, thinking nothing was amiss… until I sat down.

You know the twang a guitar string makes when it snaps Lovers? Yeah that’s the feeling I experienced as I dropped my daks and sat down.

Ooh sweet Lordy lord that smarts!

I finished peeing and gave my affronted butt cheek a good rub, assuming I had just sat down weirdly and all would be fine. But no, the pain did not leave my poor posterior. Oh dear, I was going to have to do something quite unheard of in the dating game; ask for help!

I flushed with dread in my heart and discomfort in my derriere.

Peeking around the lounge room door I spotted my date sitting on the couch, totally unawares of what was about to be asked of him. I took a deep breath and sauntered into the room, trying to look casual and not limp at the same time.

“So…” I started nervously “This is going to sound kind of odd, but I need to ask you a favour.”

He looked at me quizzically for a moment before nodding. There was nothing for it, I just had to come out with it.

“Can you massage my left ass cheek?” I blurted out, shame apparent in every syllable.

Gah the humiliation of it all!

Luckily my date just laughed and agreed. Thank god really, as my tush was really starting to twitch.

I hopped gingerly onto the couch and backed my ass up into his face, lifting my skirt as I did so. This was so not the action I was expecting tonight.

I flinched and squirmed as my date probed my rump (yes probed, I went there!) uttering advice like ” a little to the left, up a bit, further, further, ooh yeah that’s the spot.”

As saucy as it sounds Lovers, I do not recommend working this method into your foreplay. So ouchy!

In the end my date refused to massage me for more than a few minutes as he said I’d probably be better off icing it due to the fact it was soft tissue or whatever. He’s a sporty dude so I assume he knows what he’s talking about, I just didn’t want to tell him I’d taken all my ice trays out of the freezer so I could fit more party pies in…

I contemplated rubbing some deep heat on there, but my date assured me this would just numb the pain not fix it. Pfft, numbing sounded pretty bloody good right at that moment. However, the thought of accidentally misplacing my hand and getting deep heat on my putty tat was enough for me to dismiss the idea.

So we headed to bed with sex on the brain and soreness on the butt. Needless to say, sex was not had that night, nor the next morning.

Damn my ass to hell!

Anyways must dash Lovers, just thought I’d fill you in on that juicy tidbit before I carried on with the sex party antics. More on that night next time!

Claire xx

P.S the ass has recovered fully and is perfectly spankable once more. Huzzah!

Pickup line of the week (butt related of course): If I were a squirrel and you were a tree, I’d store my nuts in your hole.

 

 

Sex Sisters Unite!

Hey Hey Lovers!

Wow so much has happened since we last talked! Still, I promised to tell you all about my latest sex party conquest, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do! Strap yourself in Lovers, this could be a long post!

So, cast your mind back to the end of October. Picture a cool, slightly breezy Friday night, you know the one, windy enough to throw a few stray leaves your way but calm enough for you to safely wear a g-banger under your skirt without the world knowing about it. Now picture me, naked in my living room, applying fake nautical tattoos to various parts of my freshly scrubbed and shaved bodice while sucking down three dollar moscato.

Classy image eh?

Well that was the scene playing out in my living room that fateful October night. My housemate was at work so I decided the best way to prepare for the night was to stay naked most of the time. After all, if I couldn’t strut around naked in my kitchen, what hope did I have in a crowd of 1500 people?

Next time however, I will have to remember to shut the blinds. I’m afraid my new neighbours got a touch more than they bargained for.

Welcome to the neighbourhood people!

So, after applying what can only be described as copious amounts of anchor, skull and cross bone, tall ship and treasure chest tattoo’s, I finally slipped into some clothes and headed out the door, ready and excited for my solo sexual adventure.

Nothing quashes that excitement quite like catching a bus to your incredibly sexy destination.

After my twenty five minute journey I stepped off the bus smelling strongly of urine and the ‘medicinal’ cigarette one of the passengers insisted on smoking.

Oh yeah, sex on legs right there.

I shook myself off and after a quick trip to the Macca’s toilets I was also officially washed off. I redid my lipstick, plumped up my less than ample decolletage and gave myself a wink before heading back out into the world and on my way to the party.

The Saints and Sinners ball is officially Australia’s biggest sex party, and my my my does it deliver! Often held in a popular three story club with different ‘activities’ on each level, there is enough action and excitement to keep even the most randy of Lotharios sated. Last year (my first foray into the world of sex parties) was incredible, and would have to have been one of the best nights of the year, including my birthday and new years! So this time around I was hoping for another show stopping night.

However, this time I knew it would be different. For one thing, I was going solo. Yes, in the mysterious swinging lifestyle I was attending the party as a ‘unicorn’ (a single under 30 female). Last year I had had company. Sure he pissed me off a little and I ended up spending most of the night on my own meeting new people and making friend’s, but it was nice to have someone to come back to, someone to compare stories with and of course, talk to you/have sex with you on command.

As much as I had tried to convince many a man to attend the ball with me, this year everyone just seemed so unadventurous, so cautious about ‘feelings that may arise in such a situation’.

Keh?

When the hell did anyone think about feelings when a girl was asking you to attend a sex party? What a bunch of pussies.

I tried to tell myself it didn’t matter, that I was better off going without some nancy-boy who was going to cry as soon as he saw a leather clad grandmother as it secretly turned him on and he was now forever changed, but I knew deep down it wasn’t going to be quite the same.

Still, the sex drought had made me strong, so I pulled on my big girl pants (or rather pulled them off) and headed up the steps of the club and into the lion’s sexy den.

Straight away I was hit with that now all too familiar smell of beer, latex and sex. Ah yes, Claire was home. I smiled at the doorman as he secured my wristband and sent me on through to the dressing room. I winked at the coat room boys as they handed me my plastic bag to put my ‘real world clothes in’ and I laughed as the bartender attempted a joke while he opened my beer. This was good, this was easy, I didn’t need no man!

Until about half an hour later, when I stood leaning against the wall of the dance-floor, wistfully staring at the scantily clad couples doing their finest impressions of that bar scene in dirty dancing.

I had made the rounds, stopping for some time at the grope box and teasing its occupants mercilessly, but now I was left with not much to do but drink my beer and look approachable.

And boom, that’s how I met Jake.

Jake was a monster of a man, towering over many of his male counterparts, his shaved head glistening under the club’s strobe lights. But what was most eye-catching about Jake was his body. The dude was a tank! Muscles sat atop even bigger muscles, rippling and flexing as he moved. Sticking to the theme, Jake was dressed only in Speedo’s with a race number painted on his shoulder. So that bod of his was on full display.

I was admiring his saucy glutes when suddenly he turned around and caught me staring.

Oops, total Peeping Tina.

Luckily for me Jake quite enjoyed my perusal and mosied on over for a chat. We introduced ourselves and Jake informed me that he was incredibly happy tonight, as he had just won some big body building competition the night before.

Ah, that would explain the giant rig.

I have never been a huge fan of massive muscles, preferring my men lean or even wiry (probably why so many of my men have turned out to have serious drugs issues) but Jake was such a nice guy that I decided to just go with it and see what happened. Plus I was super curious to see if the rumours about body builders were true.

Did he really have tiny balls? Only one way to find out!

Jake and I chatted for some time, and Jake revealed his lust for all things BDSM and his ample supply of toys stored at home. However all through this chat he kept assuring me that he wasn’t just some dominant meat head, that he was actually a really sensitive guy and he had ‘super deep feelings’.

Who was this guy?!

I had to admit it was refreshing to be able to talk so freely with someone I had just met, and he bared his soul to me about what he wanted from women but just never received because of his appearance. I felt bad for the guy, but I also knew I could definitely make him feel a whole lot better.

After we talked about the serious stuff, I asked him to do some poses for me, and we had a giggle as he showed me the moves that won him the competition, explaining in great detail how ‘this muscle has to flex so that you can show off this other muscle here, most guys don’t do that, so they don’t win.’

Hmm modest bugger aren’t you?

Then it was time to dance!

Jake led me onto the dance-floor and we began that awkward phase of dancing where neither of you knows what the other is doing so you just kind of bop around in uncoordinated circles.

That’s when I realised, “Claire woman, you’re at a sex party! The rules don’t apply here!” If Jake was some guy I had met in a club then yes, we would dance awkwardly for a while before moving into more grindy dirty dancing, then kissing and then if all went well, home to bed.

But this was no ordinary club.

I grinned devilishly at Jake and without a word dove my hand straight into his tight little Speedo’s.

I’ve never felt a man get so hard so quickly! It was great! After all my recent sexual disasters, finally here was a man who seemed to have full control of his well-sized and active wang.

Huzzah!

Jake groaned in delight as I moved my hand in time to the music. Oh yeah, now we were dancing alright.

Before I knew it Jake had backed me up into the stage where all the beanbags were situated. Yes, for those of you who didn’t read last year’s blog, the stage next to the dance floor gets turned into a beanbag sexfest. Couples lay strewn among the bags, giving head, getting head, having sex and just basking in the afterglow of coital awesomeness. I had to giggle as I imagined what band or dj would be playing on that stage next week. If only they knew what had taken place on it just a week before.

Mind the wet spot!

I was keen to snag a beanbag and clap my eyes on these tiny (or not so tiny) balls of Jake’s, but all the bags were… occupied. So I did what you do when you’re waiting in line for a sex beanbag, I sat on the edge of the stage and gave Jake ferocious head.

Ooh the moans of delight that boy made! I grinned as I continued my assault on his yogurt slinger, reveling in the fact that many a couple on the beanbags behind had started cheering us on.

Finally Jake couldn’t take it anymore and he popped his peen out of my mouth before picking me up and throwing me over his shoulder. I squealed like a little girl and laughed uproariously as Jake carried me over to a bean bag.

The only problem was, this bean bag was already occupied. Jake slung me down onto the bag next to a saucy looking wench. I smiled at her before apologising for the invasion of her bean bag island. To my suprise she smiled back and slid her hand slowly up my leg.

Well, well, well, this was getting interesting!

Jake reached over and grabbed a condom from the bowl placed handily nearby and ripped into it with his teeth. I watched with bated breath as he took his pants off. Would the balls be teeny weeny? Would they be massive? Would he only have one? Would he have three? And then they were revealed…

Not too shabby Jakey Boy.

They were lovely, normal size, shaved nuts.

Nawww how cute.

His wang was not what I would describe as cute however. More like an angry, throbbing love machine!

Jake got into position on top of me, poised at the cusp of my honey pot. Remembering my last experience with Boris I redelivered my line, whispering to Jake, “ooh, be gentle with me sir, I’m a virgin.”

Better safe than sorry right? I’d prefer he went easy rather than slamming into me like a freight train!

And I’m so glad I did, because when Jake slid into me all smooth and silky, oh boy did it turn me on! I didn’t realise just how wet I already was! Maybe it was Jake, or maybe it was the soft leg stroking I was still receiving from my bean buddy.

Jake started to speed up and I did my best to meet him thrust for thrust, although the bean bag didn’t provide much support and he was in danger of falling out a few times. Suddenly I felt a bounce as a new couple descended on the bean bag on the other side of us. In a split second the guy descended between her legs and was quickly making her elicit quite the amorous screams. I turned my attention back to Jake and the sounds he was provoking from me. Phoar he was really starting to pound down now!

I squirmed and groaned in delight, ever conscious of the delicate hand on my leg. What I wasn’t aware of, was that that delicate hand was now getting her own bean bag orgasm, as her partner had returned and was eagerly exploring the depths of her panty hamster.  Suddenly the girl on the other side of me grabbed my hand and clasped it tight. Oh my god, she was coming! I squeezed her hand and tried to osmotically absorb part of her orgasm as Jake ploughed away. The experience was so overwhelming! I was getting it from all sides! From Jake’s pounding thrusts, to the stroking hand on my left and the relentless grip on my right, a sort of sexy handshake if you will, I was surrounded by my sex sisters!

One of these sisters tried to include Jake in the sister action by stroking his chest, but Jake was having none of it. He angrily swatted her hand away, growling “nobody touches me but you.”

I didn’t really have time to reply as Jake decided it was the perfect time to flip me onto my stomach and try a bit of doggy style.

Oh dear Lovers, that’s when things went downhill. Jake’s dominant side really came out then and before I knew it he had shoved my face into the bean bag and twisted my arm behind my back.

It’s a very odd experience, having your face mashed into a beanbag. I struggled for air as Jake drove my head into the slightly moist beanbag (can you get STD’s on your face?) All thoughts of my sex sisters disappeared as I attempted to glean some enjoyment from Jake’s savage ministrations.

My attempt failed miserably.

This definitely was not fun anymore. I turned my head to the side and gasped out “Hey! I need to take a piss!”

Maybe if I grossed him out with toilet talk he’d get off me.

“It’s ok!” Jake grunted, “I’m almost done!”

Thank the lord! Within a few more pelvic jarring thrusts, Jake came hard and collapsed onto me.

Phew!

I left him to collect himself and went to pee as promised. When I caught sight of myself in the mirror I flinched. Turns out I had left most of my makeup on the beanbag. My face was a smeared bloody mess.

Luckily I wasn’t the only one cleaning myself up, as I was in between a sailor cleaning copious amounts of cum off her chest and a mermaid attempting a quickie douche in the sink.

Ah the joy of sex!

I’ll let you know how Jake and I finished the night next week Lovers!

Claire xx

Quote of the day: “Sexy is using a feather; kinky is using the whole chicken.” – Unknown

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sex is Nigh!

Ermahgerd Lovers!

It’s happened! It’s finally happened! The sex gods have smiled upon me and sent a penis my way! And a working penis to boot! I would have told you about this momentous occasion earlier, but I discovered this show called Outlander and I’ve been binge watching for the past couple of days. Picture this, Scottish, red headed, kilt wearing god of a man, falls in love and has copious amounts of sex with a girl who travels back in time.

And the girls name is Claire!!

Need I say more? Epic story lines are just the erotic and slightly moist icing on the cake! I tend to watch it just before bed in the hope that my brain can retain all the deliciousness and furnish me with dirty Scottish dreams all night.

So far my brain has not been cooperating…

But enough about my television fetishes, lets get onto the real life sex!

After all this time, all this waiting and hoping, all the maddeningly frustrating nights alone, the final result was so… anti-climactic.

Yes Lovers, my first time in seven months was lacklustre as fuck.

Bugger!

You’re probably wondering though, who is this mystery man? What did he do that was so terrible? How did he land in Claire’s creaky old bed?

Well that’s just the thing Lovers, he was no stranger. It was Boris!

That’s right, my usually tryst-worthy saucy man fell far far short of his usual performance this time around.

It wasn’t entirely his fault Lovers, I’m not about to pin all the blame on him! But it was pretty shitty timing on his part; I’ll say that for sure.

The problem was, I had no warning, no time to prepare myself for some sexy time. You know how sometimes you just need a few hours to think about the ensuing romp fest so you can get yourself into a complete orgasmic tizzy? Maybe have a saucy pre-sex shower? Or is that just me?

Anyways, it was literally the night after Noodle man, so I was feeling incredibly unsexy. Not only had I just come off the back of one of my worst (attempted) one night stands, but all those vodka and cokes were still making my life miserable almost twelve hours later, no matter how many pieces of pizza I stuffed in my mouth. So when I received a text from Boris at 12.30am, my excitement was tinged with quite a large slice of ‘can I really be bothered?’

But bothered I became, as I realised this could be my last chance for another seven months. I had to be proactive and take the todgers when they were offered! So I replied and Boris stumbled his way to my place.

Yes Lovers, Boris was completely blootered! (Blotto, bombed, bladdered, any way you want to describe incredibly drunk really.)

Oh great, I thought, just what I needed, another drunken fumble that ended in a blowjob for him and no sex for me.

But no, I had to be positive. Boris was usually pretty consistent with his wang so I just had to trust that the penis gods were on my side tonight.

Boris and I chatted for a little while as he dined on some greasy Hungry Jacks and I stole his chips. That’s what I enjoy most about Boris, we can chat, we can have a laugh, and then he can fuck me good and hard. What’s not to like?

But tonight was a bit different. Boris seemed… withdrawn, uninterested and just not really himself. My god, when I mentioned he had popped up on my Facebook page you’d think I’d donned a trench coat and discovered his entire identity including shoe size and address.

Dude, you’ve been inside me, I think it’s ok if we’re Facebook friends.

But apparently not. In fact, Boris had told me his last name was Crisp, but that certainly wasn’t his name on the old book of face. When I asked him about it he just laughed nervously and said something like “Where’s the fun in telling the truth?”

Riiiight…

I was legitimately hurt. Did he think so little of me that he couldn’t even tell me his real name? Did he think after the first time we slept together I was going to go all Basic Instinct on him? That I was so desperate I had nothing better to do than stalk his ass?

What a bastard!

So it was after that little discussion that Boris decided to jump into bed with me. Urgh, don’t touch me Sensitive Sally, I might fall in love with you and follow you home.

Safe to say I was not in the sexiest frame of mind, so when Boris snaked his hand down towards my panties, I did absolutely nothing to encourage him.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” I asked bluntly.

Boris mumbled something unintelligible as he sloppily kissed my neck. I sighed in defeat. Oh well, he may have pissed me off, but his yogurt slinger was pressing into my leg and it seemed a real shame to waste a perfectly good erection.

So I turned to him and started stoking the fires of his flesh flute, although truth be told the fires were already fairly ablaze when I got there.

Boris took this as his cue to amp up the foreplay (which up until now was surprisingly uninspiring) and drove his fingers right into the driveway at speed. I squinched up my face as my teenie weenie vagenie struggled to get used to the two-fingered intruder at the gates, but I didn’t have long to acclimatise, as Boris was already on top of me.

I giggled and said “Be gentle, I’m a virgin.” Obviously it was a joke (obviously not a very good one) but the main reason I said it was to remind him to go easy on me to start with. It had been seven months after all and I’d practically re-hymanated.

Sadly, in the throes of passion, men do not heed subtle hints or listen to lame jokes; they just plough forward and hope to hit the right hole.

And good God did he plough!

Holy shitwaffles!

I bit my lip hard to keep from swearing out loud and clenched my fists so I wouldn’t slap Boris out of reflex.

The dude charged into my snake ranch with that bender of a beaver basher at a rate of knots you would not believe! Thanks to the piss poor foreplay my poor little love muffin had zero time to warm up and I felt the scrape of condom against my dry, dry walls like nails on a black board.

So not what I was hoping for.

I wriggled and squirmed around under Boris until I finally felt my love juices begin to soften up the joint and I could enjoy the thrusting a little. Unfortunately, it was at that point that both of us remembered why we usually had sex on the couch.

My bed was screaming like a banshee!

Any time either of us moved the whole frame squealed in protest. My cat huddled in the corner; terrified of this new and petrifying beast we had awoken. Maybe we would have continued, but both of us were very aware of my housemate and just how close our rooms were.

“Get on the floor.” I breathed from underneath Boris.

He shrugged and we moved to the carpet at the foot of my bed. As soon as he was lying down, I pounced on him. Ah the sweet sweet feeling of being on top!

I eased myself onto him (very carefully) and after a few test canters I broke into a gallop!

Woo hoo! I’m back baby!

I bounced up and down faster and faster, ignoring the carpet burn I was fast obtaining on my knees, focused only on that orgasmic end goal.

Sadly, the old sexual fitness isn’t what she used to be and instead of an orgasm I got a leg cramp.

Dammit!

Boris rolled back on top of me, and this time it was his turn to go hell for leather. I loved how deep he was going and how fast; what I didn’t love was the carpet burn on my ass.

Inevitably though, my sticky purse gave up the ghost and I just couldn’t take any more of Boris’s thrusting without a butt tonne of lube.

But by that time we’d be going at it for quite some time, and even though there were parts that had been enjoyable, something was missing this time. That’s when I realised; Boris hadn’t kissed me. Not once. That was what made our sexy sex sexy! The kissing! No wonder I wasn’t enjoying it as much, no mouth connection!

I decided I was done for the night and offered Boris a blowjob to finish off. (No surprise he accepted.) However, my heart wasn’t in it and after five minutes I gave up, knowing making drunk Boris cum was an almost impossible task.

I threw on some undies and trekked to the toilet for the obligatory ‘pee so you don’t get a urinary tract infection’ pee and my what a shock I got!

Blood! Blood on the toilet paper! Sweet Jesus I really was a virgin!

I trudged back to the bedroom and got into bed, shoving Boris aside none too gently. He was suffering already however, as that boner of his really was going to waste. It wasn’t going down, but it wasn’t going anywhere near me anytime soon.

So there you go Lovers, I did it! I finally did it! I guess I just need a bit more practise to dust off all that rust eh? Well, next week I’ll tell you all about the sex party I went to! Sailors ahoy!

Claire xx

Just thought I’d use this section to send a massive thank you out to all the Lovers who voted for How Many Frogs in the Kinkly sex blogging competition! Thanks to you guys we made it into the top 100 sex bloggers for the second year in a row, maintaining number 83 on the list! I couldn’t have done it without you Lovers, and your continued support, love and comments is what makes me proud to write about my disastrously hilarious (and often depressingly inactive) love life. Love you long time Lovers!!