Babies aren’t made in utes!

Happy Hump Day Lovers!

Now I’m sure you’re all teetering on the edge of your seats wondering, did she do it? Could she do it? Were there any injuries sustained? I am of course talking about the certain saucy yet sore boy I have been having some fun with lately. For those who haven’t read the last post (for shame!) I was heading over to said saucy boys house for some sexy time when I found out he was in a neck brace. Did this mean no sex? It certainly meant no hickies. (Thank god for that really.) Well if you read on Lovers, you will quickly see if I overcame my mobility challenged man and got some loving out of him.

So, the last time we spoke I was on a tram, feverishly writing to you and at the same time desperately trying to arrange my ass on the seat so my very sexy yet extremely unpractical undies would stop riding up my ass. Then after a long and fairly uncomfortable train ride (it was a packed peak hour carriage and I had to stand most of the way. No opportunity for wedgie dissembling at all.) I arrived at the boy’s station. Lets call him… Rolph. Yep that should suit nicely. So, once I stepped off the train and onto the freezing cold platform, very subtly rubbing up against the train door to disentangle my ass from my undies, I made the obligatory “I’m here!” call. To my relief he arrived within minutes.

The poor guy wasn’t kidding about the neck brace. He turned, or tried to turn and give me a kiss hello but he failed so miserably in it that I just climbed over the seat and gave him a peck. It felt so good to see him, even if he was slightly… damaged. He couldn’t even turn to see oncoming traffic so I had to help him spot if the way was clear. God knows how he made it out to pick me up.

We drove for a while, chatting about this and that, but all I could think was, “How much can he move with that? Maybe if I just get on top he’ll be ok. Should I give him a blow job while he drives?” Of course what actually came out of my mouth was more “Oh yeah, my day was fine.” Thank god he can’t read minds.

When we reached his house I was suprised at how nice it was. He lives in a bit of a dodgy suburb so I was prepared for drug dens and lots of furniture in the front yard, but his house and all the ones in his street were lovely. Guess it’s easy to get a cheap nice place when you live in the ass end of the city.

There was a big for sale sign out the front. Rolph told me that his house mate was selling it so he could go and buy a house with his new girlfriend.

Aww how sweet… Wait, new girlfriend? Woah, talk about a big step!

I very soon met said room mate and girlfriend and while he was fine she was a little, shall we say stand offish? The boys left to go lift some heavy man things into a trailer and I was left alone with her. I racked my brains for a conversation starter.

“So, you’re selling the house hey?” I asked. Everyone I know who’s selling anything always seems to love talking about it. How much they’re asking, what’s being offered, what they’ll buy next. Instead I got,

“That’s what the sign says.”

Alrightey then.

Thankfully the boys returned and I stuck close to Rolph, hoping he wouldn’t leave me with the conversation killer again. He pulled me over to the couch and we sat down with drink in hand. Rolph drinks muscat, a drink normally reserved for men in their seventies. I was treated to a glass as well, although I had to pour some back into his glass as his serving sizes were based on rather large African elephants. The girlfriend came and joined us on the couch and engaged in some chit chat with Rolph. Then she noticed my bag.

“So I suppose you’ll be staying over tonight? Seeing how you bought a whole back pack?”

Wow, what had I done to this woman? I decided now was the time to pull out my trump card.

“You like chocolate?”

She did indeed, and with just a few peppermint buttons, I was back on track.

Eventually she left and Rolph and I decided to watch a movie. I had brought over a few as I had no idea if he had crap taste or not. To my absolute astonishment he picked the one I had least expected. In fact I had tossed it in at the last minute as a joke.

We spent the next hour watching the first half of Fifty Shades of Grey.

Crazy right? I think he actually liked it too.

So about half way through the movie Rolph try’s to adjust to get into a better position when all of a sudden he cries “Oh shit!” The movie wasn’t in a particularly steamy spot so I was pretty certain he hadn’t accidentally creamed his jeans, but he was definitely agitated, that was for sure.

I jumped up as he leaped off the couch, brushing at his shirt furiously as he did.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, confused.

Turned out old Rolphy had spilled his muscat. Disaster! Well, for him anyways. We spent the next ten minutes mopping up booze from the top of the couch, in between the cushions and even lifting it up to get at the puddle underneath. That stuff sure could spread. When we were done Rolph lay sprawled on the floor, used paper towels littered all around him.


I lunged at him and kissed him intensely before ripping off his belt and pulling his pants down to his knees. He quickly shucked them the rest of the way off, obviously eager to follow my train of thought. I gave him another luxurious kiss and headed down town. Oh lordy lord, his wang was just as beautiful as I remembered. I was like goldilocks finding that perfect porridge. Or maybe the chair is the right metaphor. It wasn’t too small or too big but just right! Not too soft either, that was for sure 😉 I didn’t have to work on him for long and soon his spunk was spurting  eagerly to the back of my throat. I quickly spit it out onto one of the paper towels (we all remember what happens when I swallow don’t we?)

When I looked back up at Rolph he had a contented look on his face. Well that ought to have helped his neck for sure!

We settled back on the couch with Rolph’s pants back on in case his room mate decided to make an appearance and finished off the movie.

Then it was bed time…

We undressed and hopped under the covers, all done very un-romantically I might add, although I did make sure he took note of my carefully chosen underwear before I took it off. The lights went off and Rolph popped some pain killers and a sleeping tablet. Shit, I was on the clock. If I didn’t make a move now he’d be out like a light. A took a deep breath and rolled closer, running my hand across his chest as I did so. That was how I found out he’s actually incredibly ticklish, as this move solicited a high pitched giggle from him.

So sexy.

I steeled myself and said, “So, if you weren’t in a neck brace, would we be having sex right now?”

He looked at me, no wait, he tried to look at me (it’s a very hard thing to get used to, this whole not using your neck business) and with a nimbleness I didn’t know he possessed, was on top of me.

It’s go time!

I clamped my mouth shut to stifle my cry of “Yes! It’s happening!” No need to sound too keen after all.

Ooh but it was nice! After a few minutes of leg melting handy work Rolph was in position, poised for entry. And oh what an entry!

You know, sometimes regular sex can be the best kind of sex. This was technically as vanilla as they come, straight up missionary style goodness. But hey, if that’s what I can expect from now on, hand me a spoon boy!

He wrapped his arms around me and went to town. But it wasn’t just your straight up pumping in and out nonsense. No no no, this had just the right amount of grind to it. I couldn’t get enough. So obviously as soon as it was over I was ready for more. Sadly at that point the sleeping tablets seemed to do their job and ten minutes later my luscious lover had turned into my unconscious lump. But such a lovely lump. 🙂

The next morning I was woken by said lump cutting a super loud fart.

Mmm breakfast in bed.


After a half assed apology (pun intended) we kissed and made up. (After all, he hasn’t sampled my particular brew yet so I can’t be too angry at his lame attempts.) Then it was off to a five star breakfast.

Bacon and egg Mcmuffins! Oh yeah!

And a chai latte.

For him.

What a girl.

After breakfast we had to go pick up a shed for Rolph’s Mum so I tailed along and ‘supervised’ as the men loaded the shed onto the trailer. All that heavy lifting got me quite worked up, and by the time the shed was secured I was picturing myself and a certain someone doing something entirely different with those ratchet tie down straps.

And that was how we ended up parked on the side of the road in some random part of town attempting to have wild sex in a two seater ute.

And it was practically impossible!

I tried everything Lovers. The seat was back as far as it would go, the wheel was locked in close to the dash and my legs were attempting to bend every which way. I faced Rolph, then I faced away from him. I had my legs tucked in, then straight out, then at geographically impossible angles. But we just couldn’t make it work!

Finally Rolph suggested we just get out and have a cheeky quicky on the bonnet. I thought for a moment. The road was deserted, with not a single car having driven past whilst we were fumbling around like idiots. Maybe if we had sex up against the side of the car? Then we’d be kind of hidden behind the brush.

I must have been horny as fuck Lovers, because I agreed.

I jumped out of the ute in just my t-shirt and teeny tiny see through undies. And as soon as that crisp cool air hit my bare legs my senses returned to me.

“Let me back in!” I cried, vaulting myself onto Rolph, scrambling to get into the car  and remain unseen by anyone. Poor Rolph cried out as my flailing limbs whacked him in the neck, the side of the head and the stomach but at that point I was set only on getting my scantily clad ass out of his face and back onto my seat. No sooner had I slid over him and crashed onto the passenger seat, a car came rolling past. And then another.

Thank god for that cool crisp air!

Rolph chuckled while putting the car into gear and pulled the ute back onto the road.

He stopped laughing right about when he drove past his aunty putting her bins out.

Talk about bad timing! He ducked his head and tried not to meet her eye but it was clear she had seen him. And why else would he be driving the back streets of a dodgy suburb with a shed on a trailer and a scantily clad girl in the front seat?

Oh yes, she knew.

Luckily we were just past her house when Rolph’s trailer feel apart and he had to run back and pick up the pieces. Now that would have been an awkward way to meet his Aunty!

So has the sex improved? Declined? Dried up entirely?

Read on and see Lovers, read on and see 😉

Claire xx

Best bonking songs: Do you love me

By: The Contours

Best Used: Pay homage to Patrick Swayze and Jennifer Grey’s nose by putting on a sexy, sweaty, dirty dancing sex    fiesta!


Sexual Conundrum #23 – Neck Brace

Hey hey Lovers!

Ok just a quickie tonight as I’m furiously typing on a tram 😉

I have a conundrum! Tonight is the third date with a very VERY delicious man I’ve been seeing. So far we haven’t had sex.

Crazy I know!

But no Lovers, you don’t sleep with the people you really like 😉 (well he did stick it in a little bit when we were in the shower but that doesn’t count, right?)

Anyways I decided tonight was to be the BIG night! Everything was waxed, shaved and primped in readiness and then… Disaster!

The poor guy is in a neck brace!! Some sort of nerve thing or whatever, his doctor’s not sure. But that’s not important, the important thing is, how do you have sex (and good sex at that) with a guy in a neck brace?? Is this the universe trying to say tonight isn’t a good time? Or is the universe being sly and asking me “Challenge accepted?”

Tricky. Very tricky.

What else can I do but strap on my nurse chaps and get in there?

I take the role of nurse and TLC giver very seriously. In fact it took me over half an hour to pick a bra and panty set that was nursey enough! (It’s pretty much the only outfit I don’t have so I had to improvise.) I’m heading over there with a literal backpack of goodies. (Seriously it weighs a ton.) I’ve got my laptop and some DVDs, chocolate and chips, the most sexy erotic novel i had in my shelf (for bed time stories if he can’t sleep), my orgasmatron and some body butter in case he needs a massage in ‘sore’ places.

I’ll keep you posted on how it works out Lovers! If I get my way there’ll be orgasms all round, but if that pesky massive injury gets in the way it could just end up being a very pg sleepover.

The horror!

Claire xx

Pickup line of the week: (one for the boys) What has two thumbs, a 7 inch cock and speaks French?

Points two thumbs at himself


Boobs vs Pizza Pockets

Hello my lovely Loverson’s!

Happy Sunday! I know I know, Sundays can suck the big one sometimes, especially as the day starts to creep to a close. Oh no! Tomorrow’s Monday! Fear not Lovers, for I have decided to take a tiny break from the Rick chronicles to bring you a very informative article about the difference between men and women and how their crazy minds work! Are you excited? Are you not entertained! Well obviously not as I haven’t written it yet. But read on dear Lover, and prepare to learn! (Or just revise, depends how much you know about the opposite sex. ;-))

There are some very big differences in how men and women think. Sometimes we don’t realise just how much. So to help you out next time your having man issues, I’ve written a little case study on how one situation can be completely different in a man’s mind compared to a woman’s. Some differences may surprise you, others I know for certain will not. We’ll start with the boy’s version first. Now keep in mind, when I wrote this I only had my younger cousins and friends of the family to source my knowledge from, so this will be from a teenage boys perspective. This particular scenario is when a young boy see’s his first pair of chesticles.

Wow, there they are. The two biggest breasts in the world are right in front of me, staring me straight in the face. Well, obviously they aren’t staring at me per-Se. I’m sure if I moved around the room they won’t follow me like that weird painting. You know the one, god what’s it called? But no, I’m going off topic. There they are. I mean, I’ve seen a couple before, 2 or 3 here and there. Actually it was one pair and one on it’s own. That was when Suzie slipped off the diving board and hit the water so fast one side of her bathers took a second or two to follow the other.

Anyways, what I’m trying to say here is that this is not the first pair of melons that has come my way…It’s the second, pair anyway. But man these are big. I mean I don’t know any of these cup sizes or whatever girls go on about, but if you were in a café choosing between a cup of coffee and a mug, these would have to be the mug, with like whipped cream and a cherry on top, you know, so it kind of looks realistic. Yeah I’m aware that not many people would HAVE a cherry in their coffee or even on top, but obviously I’m trying to prove a point. We’re actually learning about metaphors in English.

Uh oh, crap, she’s looking impatient. Shit, I’m thinking about cherry coffee metaphors while I’ve got tits right under my nose! OK, it’s time to go in. 
Extending the hand, slow and steady, that’s the way; don’t want to scare her off. Quick glance upwards shows more boredom than terrified modesty. Hmm, better move to phase two. Bypass gigantic jugs and go for the catch at the back. Nice move. She thinks she’s getting a cuddly hug, bam you’re getting heaving bosoms pushed up against your bony (yet amazingly masculine) chest. Score.

Now the ultimate in the art of seduction, the old flicking off the bra catch without even a look. No problem.

Not a one.

Won’t take a second.

Ok surely she won’t notice a quick peek. Oh Jesus, it’s the Alcatraz of bra catches. Not one, not two, but three hooks hold this bad boy in place. And horror of horrors, it’s on the third catch. High security. One wrong move and the flickback from this baby could leave a mark on her back for a week. Tricky.

My sweaty palms flutter up and down her back, desperately trying to find another entrance point as she sighs impatiently against me. Don’t worry my darling, I will find a way. 
Got it! I’ll just pop them out!


I abandon the back route and engage the front entrance. She taps her foot in annoyance and crosses her arms. Wow, it’s like they’re rising up to meet me, jiggling with excitement, just like me. It’s nice to know we’re so connected this early in the relationship. I reach in again. Somewhere in the distance I can hear Chariots of Fire playing softly. It’s actually the second lunch bell but when you’re holding giant mams in your hand everything sounds pretty damn good. I get a hold of one and pull with all my might, and suddenly, with a little pop, it comes free of its cotton lace prison.

“Ow! Jesus Christ Jeremy, they’re fucking attached!”

Her sweet words of love echo in my new found ears. For yes, everything is different for me now. I can see clearly now the bra has gone, and there sure as hell are no obstacles in my way.

Intriguing no? So maybe all guys don’t think exactly like that, but at least now you know the general direction his thoughts are headed. And now just for fun (or if any boys happen to be reading this) we will now explore the girl’s side of things.

Wow. So this is it. This is what happens when you lose a bet. They could have at least chosen somewhere with just a touch more room. I mean the bike shed? So cliche. I suppose things could be worse. I’m sure Jeremy is a nice guy. I mean we’ve never spoken or anything but he seems umm… nice. Yes we’ll go with that. Nice.

But god, the way he’s looking at my chest right now, it’s bloody disconcerting to say the least. If his eyes pop out much further I’ll be scooping them off the floor for him. What is he staring at? They’re just boobs! He’d better not think there’s anything wrong with them. I’ve got a great pair, if I do say so myself. As a matter of fact if I squeeze them together and look down I can touch my chin to the top of them. That’s a little known fact I bet half the boys in this school would love to know.

What on Earth is he doing now? I look behind me to see if we’ve been busted, but nobody’s there. Why the hell is he moving around? His eyes haven’t moved an inch from the twins though, he’s clearly still fascinated. I sneak a peek at my watch and smile inwardly. If he doesn’t get a move on the lunch bell is going to ruin his chances of ever seeing the fun bags. Oh wait, here we go, there’s movement at the station. Sweet Jesus does he think I’m going to run away? His hand is inching towards me about a millimetre a minute. God I’m bored. Maybe I can get Jess to snag me a pizza pocket from the canteen. At least that’s something to look forward to.

Ooh there it is, we have contact. Wait, he’s going in for a hug? What is this, we’re not in year two anymore Jeremy, get on with it! Oh god, I can feel his hands going up the back of my shirt. Sweaty much Jeremy?

Hallelujah, he has found the bra catch! Uh oh, shit, there are times like these when I wish I listened to Mum and actually did my washing. Then I wouldn’t have to borrow her maternity bra.


This is not going to be easy for him. I bite my lip to keep myself from giggling at his flimsy attempts. Clearly he doesn’t realise these babies are built to last. Wait a minute, he’s stepped back. Seriously, you’re going to give up that easily? Boys are such pussies these days. He’s surveying me like I’m some project in woodwork. Sexy.

Finally he moves in again, this time he goes for the front. I cross my arms in annoyance. Does this really have to take so long? I tap my foot against the ground, trying to hide the fact that I really have to pee. He looks like some rabies infected dog, saliva dripping out the corner of his mouth and a crazed look in his eye. He reaches in to get a good handful and before I know it, he’s yanked one of the ladies up and out of my bra!

“Ow! Jesus Christ Jeremy, they’re fucking attached!” I screech at him.

He really doesn’t notice though, there’s a glazed look in his eyes that I only ever see after my boyfriend has finished wanking. Gross. And then finally that sweet sound of the lunch bell rings. Freedom has no sweeter sound. I disengage and go hunting for that elusive pizza pocket.

So, obviously this is only one situation being analysed. There are thousands of other scenarios that we could go through, but in the end they will all usually end up with the same conclusion. Boys and girls are almost never on the same wavelength. She might be crazy for him and he’s just after a good time, or she could have absolutely no interest in him and he’s been dreaming about this moment for years. They could even be completely in love with each other, totally at the same point in the relationship. But the truth is, a large proportion of the time, when he’s thinking about how good her ass looks in doggy style, she’ll be staring at the wall thinking what colour they should repaint it. Either that or she’s desperately trying not to fart, because really, nothing ruins a moment faster than that. So ladies, don’t be too hard on your men when they zone out during sex, it gives you a great opportunity to work on that Owen Wilson fantasy you’ve secretly been harboring ever since you saw Shanghai Noon.

Have a great weekend Lovers!

Claire xx

Best Bonking Song: Marvin Gaye

By: Charlie Puth and Meghan Trainor

Best Used: When you want to be old school romantic. Naww so cute!

Tears in my cleavage

Morning Lovers!

Yes, rare is the occasion I get to use those words as I’m usually in deep deep beauty sleep mode until the pm hours of the day. But today I had to get out of bed for a stupid exam. Ugh, learning! So I figured while I’m vertical I may as well bust out a cheeky blog while I’m at it. Ok I’m only half vertical, sitting up in bed in preparation for a lunchtime nap as soon as I’m finished here, but it’s the thought that counts right? 🙂 So, where were we last time? Ah yes, Rick was my hero, my prince charming and everything he did from saying hello to taking his socks off earned him a blow job from yours truly. But how long would this blissful state last? Turns out not long at all…

Things were sailing pretty smoothly for a while after the whole nipple flash incident, boosted by the fact that I finally experienced my very first orgasm! I always thought what I felt during normal sex was it. I was pretty disappointed that it wasn’t nearly as exciting as it was cracked up to be, but after that first orgasm, my god, I was a sex addict! Three times a night then once more in the morning. On one memorable occasion we went to a Spiderman marathon at Hoyts, (I know, you don’t need to tell me how cool we were) which went from ten pm until five am and when we got home we were completely knackered. But then we looked at each other, shrugged, and went at it!

Life was good. And even better, my nineteenth birthday was just around the corner. I organized a party bus and invited all my closest friends. Rick asked if he could bring some of his friends too. I grimaced at the thought of a bong on a bus with no windows, but he promised there would be absolutely no drugs. I gave in eventually, he didn’t know my friends that well so it would probably be good for him to have some familiar people to talk to.

The big night arrived and I was super stressed. I had forgotten my good makeup and had to work some magic with my stage cosmetics.

I looked like a thirty year old drag queen.

Oh how the tears came then! Rick was absolutely no help, too concerned about his outfit to offer me any solace. Luckily my sister promised to bring hers along and fix my bedraggled face as soon as we met up at the bus. Phew, crisis averted. At six o’clock everyone congregated at the bus and we set off, ready for a good time. Unbeknownst to me, Rick had chipped in over one hundred dollars to the bus fee, as quite a few of my friends had failed to show at the last minute. He didn’t earn a fantastic salary, so for him this was a huge amount of money. Nothing was said to me though, and we danced and drank for the next three hours. It was shaping up to be my best birthday ever. Rick was being so good to me, coming over for a dance and a quick kiss every now and then, before heading back to his mates to give me time to mingle with my friends. At one bar he even got up on stage and announced to everyone it was my birthday and the whole pub sang for me! I was overwhelmed but so happy. Could the night get any better? I crossed my fingers that maybe it could. Four times in a night maybe?

As the bus drove us back to our pick up spot one of Rick’s friends asked me for a dance. I glanced quickly at Rick but he was immersed in boy talk, so I said yes and we attempted a somewhat wobbly version of the jive, laughing and giggling the whole time. After the bus had left we decided to head to my favourite bar and dance the night away. Quite a few of my friends left at that point so it was only a small group that headed off for some more messy fun. I was walking with Bec, chatting happily, talking about her latest sexscapades when suddenly, I heard a wail from behind me. I turned to find Rick kneeling on the ground. I ran to him, falling down beside him. Was he hurt? Had he had too much to drink? Had something terrible happened?

No, it was none of those. Turns out Rick was the type of drunk who cries. The type of drunk who cries a lot. When I asked him what was wrong he poured out his tale of woe, saying how horrible I was for neglecting him, completely ignoring him all night and flirting with his friends.


I couldn’t believe it. Here I was thinking he was being the perfect boyfriend and the whole time he was silently sulking in the corner. He went on to say how I was just using him as a handbag and that I really wanted his friend not him. In Rick’s opinion I wouldn’t even notice if he wasn’t there. Well, I was noticing him now, that was for damn sure. I could see my friends just ahead of us, murmuring quietly amongst themselves, wondering what was going on. Rick just kept wailing on and on, big heaving sobs that echoed for bloody miles. And then that was it. He broke through my barrier of happyiness and I was crying with him. Once you’ve lost that happy feeling you can’t get it back. I knew right then and there the night was over. I tried to apologize to him but my heart just wasn’t in it. Why should I say sorry? It was my birthday, asshole!

His crying got louder and louder until I had to pull him into a hug just to muffle his sobs into my shoulder. I had a brief thought that he would definitely be paying for my dry-cleaning bill, but he cut that short by telling me about the money he forked out at the start of the night. Apparently that was all my fault for having shit friends and I should have known he would try and pay and should have tried to stop him. But there was more. Why had I accepted his offer for a jagerbomb? Why had I let him buy those shots of tequila? Turns out he was blaming me for that too! I supposedly should have understood that he wasn’t made of money and that he had spent far too much in one night.

Well boo fucking hoo.

That was all I could think of. (I admit, I wasn’t in a very empathetic mood that night.) Then he changed tack and crushed me into an even tighter hug, apologizing over and over for ruining my birthday. Damn right you ruined it, my brain screamed. I was humiliated. My fantastic birthday had turned sour in the blink of an eye and here I was, in the middle of Winter in a backless strappy dress (now soaked in snot and tears), in the middle of a park, clutching my weeping boyfriend who couldn’t grasp the idea of me having fun without him. Bec tried to get me up and take me drinking, and to her credit, she really did do her best to regain my good mood. But every time I turned to see the sniveling whiner that was my boyfriend, my stomach sank. And after the amount of alcohol I had consumed that night, stomach sinking wasn’t the best exercise.

I sighed, hugged everyone goodbye, and dragged my sorry excuse for a boyfriend into a taxi. What had just happened? The perfect man had just shown his ugly side. I cried silent tears all the way home, and he didn’t even notice. When we got to his house, we got undressed wordlessly and climbed into bed. He didn’t touch me, and I stayed far away from him. We stayed like that all night, on separate sides of the bed. It was the first time we hadn’t fallen asleep in each others arms.

The next morning I woke feeling numb. I was a whole year older with a whole lot of issues lying next to me in the bed. I rolled over to face him. He was awake, staring past me. He’s thinking of how to say sorry, I thought, slightly relieved that last nights waterworks were over. But instead when he opened his mouth it was to tell me , once again, how much money he had spent. I sneered at him and stormed out.

Bastard. Asshole. Complete and utter twat! He had single handedly wrecked my fabulous party and to top it off now he was making me feel guilty for it! I left soon after, needing to get away from him. Just the sight of him made me curl my lip in disgust, and lip curling is not one of my sexiest faces.

We spent two days apart. He called, he texted and he left countless voicemails but I wasn’t ready to forgive him. He had just been so selfish, and it really changed my opinion of him. I had to figure out if I still wanted to date this new Rick. A part of me didn’t. And that was the part I should have listened to. Instead I listened to the part of me who got chocolates sent to her work the next day. Nothing charms the pants off me more than romance, and by six o’clock we were having romantic, if ever so slightly angry, make up sex.

Ooooh but do things get better? Does Rick turn into a prince or a frog? Well I can tell you now it was right about then that the constant blowjobs stopped. You just can’t take the chance when you’re that angry with someone. You get angry and the teeth come out. Enough said.

Claire xx

Pick up line of the week: If I could rearrange the alphabet, I’d put U and I together.

And then my boob fell out…

Afternoon Lovers!

Hump day has arrived, huzzah! Clock off work early and run home for some sexy overtime! Or just do the normal thing and potentially keep your job 😉 So now that I’ve filled you in on my Irishman disaster it’s time to pick up where we left off with Rick, remember him? If you’ve forgotten just read back a few posts and it will all come flooding back to you, I promise.

So, the sex was great, the talks were great, his friends were, well, you can’t have everything right? Needless to say after that bumpy start I was well into nesting mode. I had my own drawer, my own music file on his computer and although he hadn’t given me a key yet, Rick did show me the easiest way to jump the fence. Love right?

We went out a lot. After all I was only eighteen and he was a secret drug fiend who loved to pop a pill or eight. One particular night we hit the town determined to have a fantastic night. We were very much into drinking competitions at that point. Strangely enough he always won, funny that. We had just finished round one, a beer and a shot of chartreuse to chase it, before moving onto the very club where we first met. It was fantastic. We danced, we pashed, we drank, and then suddenly it all fell apart.

I needed a breather as all the smoke from the machines was getting to me. Rick led me to the balcony and we had a chat and a glass of water. I was up on tiptoes just about to give him a kiss when everything went black. I couldn’t see a thing. I could hear and feel everything but I was completely blind. It was terrifying. And that’s when my legs gave out. I found myself slumped on Rick’s chest, unable to move or even open my eyes. I heard a commotion behind me and with a jolt of dread realized it was the bouncers closing in on us. Oh no, they would instantly think Rick had drugged me and was attempting to take me back to his seedy lair. Surprise surprise, that was exactly what B one and B two thought. I could hear poor Rick swearing that he was my boyfriend and that we’d only had a couple of drinks. I struggled to open my eyes, to move my arms, my legs, anything to help him out. And then I was airborne. I have no idea who carried me down the steps of the club, only that for a few scary seconds I couldn’t hear Rick’s voice at all. Where was he? Where was I being taken? Who was holding me? It was the most helpless I have ever felt in my entire life. What was happening to me?

Suddenly I felt the cool surface of brick as I was placed on the ground. I felt myself sliding to the side, falling, slipping ever so slowly towards the floor. It was humiliating. Everybody thought I was drunk, but even in my fuzzy mind I knew I had only had two beers and one shot. Even if I was tipsy this wouldn’t be happening, I never passed out, just ever so daintily spewed. Something was very very wrong. And then from my right, came Rick’s voice.

Never had I heard such a beautiful sound. I could feel tears slipping down my face as relief surged through me. As they fell from my face to my chest I was hit with another horrifying realization. My dress had slipped sideways when I fell and I was officially flashing the world. Why, why had I picked such a slutty dress? My nipple was on full display and I was so cold it was practically poking peoples eyes out as they passed by. Great day not to wear a bra Claire. I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me whole. A water bottle was pushed to my lips but I couldn’t part them so it just dribbled down my chin, mixing with my tears of humiliation. I could hear Rick yelling in the background, trying to tell the bouncers I wasn’t drunk and that I hadn’t taken anything. Finally they allowed him to get closer to me and he pulled my dress to rights once more. What he did next I will always and forever be thankful for. My Rick, my prince charming, took off his own shirt to cover me, afraid my dress might fail me again. I heard the wolf whistles and the jeers of passers by, but I had Rick in my ear, whispering soothing words, telling me it would be all right, that he would take care of me. And although I was more scared than I had ever been, I trusted that he would fix it, that he would make it all better.

The bouncers started yelling at Rick, we had to move on. I suppose it’s not a great look for a club, having a comatose girl and half naked guy sprawled out the front. They were good enough to hail us a taxi, which Rick had to pay for in advance. Honestly, people have no trust these days, why wouldn’t an unconscious girl and heavily tattooed shirtless man pay the fee? It’s not as if I could run anywhere. Luckily I didn’t get loaded into the boot, but gently placed in the back. As soon as the doors closed and we started moving, Rick’s arms encircled me and held me tight. He kept asking me to squeeze his hand but it was almost impossible for me. I could hear the fear in his voice as he contemplated taking me to hospital. I hate hospitals. Ever since I broke my arm and they didn’t let me eat dinner before my operation, they have always reminded me of being hungry and sore.  And so with a supreme effort born only from my love of food, I managed to give his hand a gentle squeeze. Phew, crisis averted. As we rode in the taxi things slowly started coming back to me. I still couldn’t open my eyes but I managed to slur across to Rick that there was no way we were going to a hospital. My man Rick, he knew exactly what I needed. Even with my eyes jammed shut, there was no mistaking the staticky feedback of the Macdonalds drive-thru. He even remembered to ask for my cheeseburger with no pickles. Swoon.

When we finally arrived back at Rick’s I could finally move my legs a little. He leant me up against the boot of the taxi as he scooped my purse out of the backseat. Thank god the taxi didn’t choose to drive off at that moment, or it would have been Claire Roadkill. Rick gently picked me up and carried me into his room, resting the warm fast food against my stomach. It felt kind of nice actually, like a salty heat pack. He laid me on the bed and I felt a chip at my lips. Rick coaxed my mouth open and I eventually chewed and swallowed it. Not such a great idea, as the chip came back up three times faster than it had gone down. Luckily Rick still had the paper bag in his hand and shoved it in front of my face before I could spray the bed. Great, just what I needed, another humiliating moment in this so perfect of nights. My only saving grace was that I still couldn’t see so at least I didn’t have to witness the look of disgust on Rick’s face. He left to go dispose of the bag and I tried to roll into a more comfortable position.

Unfortunately being so disorientated meant that I misjudged what side of the bed I was on and rolled straight on to the floor. Onto the cold, hard concrete floor. Mother of God that smarts, I screamed to myself. I lay there, unable to get up, willing Rick to get back in the room and put me out of my misery. Once he did return though, he thought I’d run off in a fit of hallucinations and spent the next ten minutes combing the backyard for me! He finally realized I would have to be in his room and found me prostrate on the floor. If it was me, I would have laughed my ass off, but he didn’t so much as smirk. (Well hopefully he didn’t, after all I was blind remember.)

Gently placing me back on the bed, he took my shoes and dress off, stepped out of his pants, and slid into bed, his arms encircling me tightly. Just before I was about to drift off to sleep, he whispered in my ear that he would never let anything happen to me, and that he loved me. And even in that drug-induced state, I knew instantly that I loved him too.

Urgh, the next morning was hell. I woke up at four in the afternoon feeling like I’d been run over by a truck. My eyes cracked open and I instantly shut them again as the sun streamed across my face. I tried to sit up but that was a one way road to vomit town, so I satisfied myself with leaning on one elbow. Not long after I had assumed this position, Rick came in with a glass of water. I swear water had never looked so good. If he had of asked me to do a strip tease to Bollywood music with a maraca in my mouth, at that moment I think I would have done it, just for a sip of that water. Luckily, he was much more gracious and offered it to me free of charge. I glugged it down, feeling the soothing coolness hit my throat like a waterfall of awesomeness. When I finally finished the glass, I noticed Rick eyeing me warily.

“What?” I asked, suddenly self conscious

“I was really worried about you,” he said “How are you feeling now?”

I sat for a moment, assessing myself. How did I feel? Apart from embarrassed, humiliated and all round crappy, I felt ok. It was like a normal hangover, times ten. Rick let me know later in the day that three other girls had been escorted from the club in the same state as I was. The police suspected drink spiking but they never found the guy. Or maybe it was a lady, after all my small boobs and bushy hair tend to attract the lesbian kind more often than not. I shivered involuntarily as I tried to picture how differently the scene might have played out had Rick not been there. I jumped up and threw my arms around him, bursting into tears as I did so. Every breath I took was exhaled as a thank you. I was just so grateful, and I knew I could never repay him. After the hug was over things got a little more heated. After all nothing cures a headache like a little down time in the sack. They don’t call it sexual healing for nothing you know.

So Lovers, you must be thinking, wow this Rick guy is amazing! They must have wed and had seven happy tattooed children! But alas, our tattoo clan was not to be. Tune in next time for the road to icky sticky breakup. (Sticky because there was a lot of breakup sex, trust me.)

Claire xx

Pickup line of the week: I don’t have a library card, but do you mind if I check you out?