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.
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?”
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!
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.
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!
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!!