Girls, romanticize yourselves. You are a queen. You are a warrior. You are an enchantress. You are a mermaid. You are a goddess. You are all of these things and more, you are the stuff of fairytales.
Month: October 2014
At the end of our second date, Nilla asked me if he was too vanilla for me. I laughed, because the question was kind of silly.
I guess because I mess around with Flint sometimes and I’m a kinky girl, he assumed that I only gravitated to kinky people when looking for partners. Which is, I understand, how some kinky people navigate non-monogamy and partner-finding.
But let me lay out our second date for you:
- He picked me up and brought me to his place.
- We took a few bong rips and watched The Muppets, which was the best thing to do.
- When I said I didn’t want to have sex right away, he asked instead if he could go down on me. To which I was like, uhhh, yeah.
- He was really good at that. Like, I mean, full-on loving the pussy good at it. Like, way beyond spelling the alphabet with his tongue good at it. Like, enthusiastic, game-changingly good at it.
- When I sucked his cock, he actually murmured, “how do you even do that?” at one point which might be the best testimonial ever.
So, no, when a guy grabs my hips, throws me down and makes sweet face-love to my pussy, he is not too vanilla for me.
Omg omg omg just booked my flight to go spend Thanksgiving with Sir.
I’m so exciteddd.
Me, basically.
You never wrote stories from your visit with Sir :(
StandardDude I’m totally getting there. The last thing I wrote took place in freaking August. Sir came end of August and last week.
We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.
Sir has one of those jobs where he isn’t allowed to talk about the specific stuff he does, even with me. Which, you know, might be the sexiest thing ever.
i would follow you to the ends of the earth with only mild complaining
I like my women how I like my men.
.
.
That’s it.
That’s the joke.
I am bisexual.
Write more!!!!
StandardSoon. For now, it’s bedtime.
I was on my first date with Nilla when it happened. We were walking down the street. He was holding my hand. We rounded a corner and bumped into my friend, hair tied on top of her head, yoga mat under her arm.
“Hey,” she said.
We both greeted her and as we walked away, trying to hide my panic, I asked if Nilla knew her. He didn’t.
Once I had gotten home, I quickly called her up and asked if she wanted to get a cup of coffee. I wanted to explain why I had been walking around holding a guy’s hand who wasn’t my boyfriend’s and I realized that I would probably have to out myself to her if I wanted to genuinely address what she had seen. She said we could meet that evening.
The rest of the day, I was nervous. By the time we got together, I’d rehearsed a thousand versions of my explanation. Recently, I’d been at a party and kissed a cute girl in front of a friend, who called me a week later to say she wasn’t sure how to respond to the fact that she’d seen me cheat on my boyfriend. I’d explained to her our situation, and she was supportive, even saying that the nature of our relationship proved its strength.
But this particular friend I had barely known a year. I wasn’t sure how she would react. With nothing to lose but maybe some respect, I was honest. The cafes were full, so we met up at a place that could best be described as half-assed stoner fast food. Nervous and a little disgusted, I barely touched what I ordered.
“Oh,” she replied and shrugged, “you two looked happy. Does your boyfriend see other people, too?”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
“Cool,” she said. And that was the end of that.