An Atheist Coming

Well here I go again, being too busy having actual sex to blog about sex...But one anecdote is just too amusing to ignore.

There's a Jonathan Lethem story called Five Fucks. The main male character told the female character a certain joke while they were flirting in a bar. He said, "You know what's the worst part about being an atheist?" She replies "no". His answer, "No one to talk to when you come."

So I was giving this guy a blow job. He was close to coming. He goes "Oh God."

I feel his balls becoming tighter and his thighs becoming more tense. "Oh God," he says again.

He says he's close to coming. I mumble, "Come."

I take him back in my mouth and as he comes, again he screams, "Oh God!...who does not exist!"

Atheists do talk to God during sex.

Bruised but not Broken

I'm one of those people that think good sex leaves people bruised, sore and barely able to walk afterwards. I like it rough and violent. Yes I'm one of those loud and borderline masochistic girls.

So after a recent session, I wanted to figure out what kinds of soreness mean I had a really good time.

1. Shoulder. From being manipulated and bitten (by myself and by my partner). From having my hands held above my head.
   
2. Hips. Obviously. From thrusting.
3. Pussy. From coming too much and getting it over and over and over.
4. Tummy. From moving.
5. Legs. From being spread wiiiiide open.
6. Neck. From having my hair pulled hard.
7. Back. From exertions

My partner could barely walk afterward. He said his ass gained instant muscles. :)

Errands and Blow Jobs

One of the things I really don't like doing is making out in a car. I can't stretch out. I can't move without bumping into something. Unless its an SUV, a small car really can't contain the wide array of actions and emotions I like displaying during sex. Also, I'm loud, so I tend to get caught.

It is almost the one seemingly normal sex-related cliche I won't do. Except I have, literally, never full-on made-out in a movie house. And no, I don't want to either. (One weiner dude always likes to say that I don't like doing something because I never had anyone to do it with. Yes, he is the type who likes to imagine my life began when I met him. And yes, he is an asshole.)

I receive a random message from someone. He wants to drop by and see me since we weren't able to meet up for coffee earlier. He was going to the area so he just wanted to chat. I agreed. I figured he was in a hurry so I didn't change. I was in a plain shirt and short shorts.

He arrived and we chatted amiably for a bit. It all seemed like the random friendly thing to do. Until he started harassing me.

I've been on this whole frame of mind recently where I like to platonic the shit out of everyone, particularly the guys I have things with. Mostly it also has to do with the success of that one endeavor in the nice girl realm.

He appeared perplexed that I was resisting. Asked if I was seeing anyone seriously. Asked if I was focusing on work. I said no both times. Then he put his hands in my shorts and started masturbating me.

As usual, I couldn't moan too loud. Or else we could get caught. We were parked basically a couple of blocks from my house. It would have been a horribly unfortunate thing to have gotten caught.

I covered my own mouth and writhed on the seat. He wouldn't stop so I just let him. After I came, I gave him a blowjob. I'd only sucked on his cock for about 1 minute when he stopped me. I was "what?" And he was all "I think I'm gonna come already."

I raised an eyebrow. He pushed me back down. He came after another 30 seconds. Yes, it was that fast. Later he said how unfair it was that it took me so long to finish and it took him so fast. I didn't remind him that he still had a hard cock in his pants after his orgasm.

He joked, "I have a condom." I smiled. "And?"

But, being in a rush, he took me home. I told him as I exited the car, "next time, if you have rubber, let's use it." Walked to my house, a little conscious that my shorts were moist and my hair was tousled.

Hum Along by Ludo

Ludo apparently plays geek rock...And I like it...

You'll never hear this song
You'll never see the movie in my head
But you infest my sleep, and your figure creeps
Through my walls and hums above my bed
I know your name, and that you're photogenic and tall
But I've never heard you talk
And there's something about you
That stabs me right through

It isn't right for me to paint your picture
Every night, but I do (I can­t find sleep)
And it feels so wrong (I breathe too deep), to sing this song (into the sky)
But maybe (as I walk and sing), somehow, you'll hear me (you'll hear a song)
And hum along
You'll hum along, you'll hum along, you'll hum along

And I've only seen you once, at your graduation
No cinematic glow or soft rock soundtrack
And I watched you move and breathe and cry
And it felt so wrong
It isn't right for me to paint your picture
Every night, but I do (I can­t find sleep)
And it feels so wrong (I breathe too deep), to sing this song (into the sky)
But maybe (as I walk and sing), somehow, you'll hear me (you'll hear a song)
And hum along
You'll hum along, you'll hum along, you'll hum along

Maybe you'd be kidnapped by pirates
And they would take you to their hideout
As pirates often do
But I'd find the secret map
And I would vigilante-bushwhack
Through the jungles of Peru

Just to save you and I'd take you north to Mexico
Where you would tell me your life story on the steps of a Mayan temple
Where we'd camp singing nonsense songs in 12 bars to the jaguars, until you'd sense me
Your eyes convincing, and I would kiss you like a hero in the half-light
Dryer sheets and peach shampoo, the smell of palm leaves, I'd sleep against you
Until the natives found us, but they would crown us king and queen
And we could stay there, spend our days there, eating guava by the sea
And I could understand your views and you could fall in love with me

[SOLO]

And while the silly human race talks to droids in outer-space
We grow old and laugh about this song
And between the jungle and the stars, you sing nonsense songs in 12 bars to me
And in my sleep I hum along

You'll never hear this song
You'll never see the movie in my head

Kill Me With Your Words

One of the things that suck about being a Bender-mocked meatbag is coming up with the really great lines after the moment has passed. This sucks doubly hard if you consider yourself a writer (case in point: me). You can come up with great lines on page, but not live. I always hated that about me. Until I realized that when I started being wittier live, I started being a bit duller on the page. But I still generally have this dilemma.

I was only recently able to say my killer lines in person. One was "Just because you fucked me, you think we're close?" said to Cc. He was sharing some inane thing and saying how he felt close to me. I just had to retaliate.

The other was said to a fucker who still keeps saying thank you (literally) for every fucking orgasm. I told him, "Thanks for coming, please come again." I tried to do it in the Apu-voice like Kumar does in Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle but I couldn't manage it post-sex (My voice was hoarse from all the fucking moaning and groaning).

The last was said recently. Ry is scared of me. He's apparently always been. So I included him in my text roulette. He replies without knowing who I was. When I said it was me, I stopped texting. Then I said, "Little Boy, do I scare you?" His reply seconds later was a roundabout "Nah".

With proper time management/scheduling and pacing, text roulette rocks as a fucking tool. Literally, a tool for fucking.

Not Moaning Makes It Harder to Come

My name is Jean Grey, and I am a moaner. I am loud. I know. Hentai-sounds are issued. I have been asked to keep quiet during quickie-some-other-person's-house-sex. I have had my mouth covered. I have had cloth stuffed to my mouth. Kinky sex shit I know. But yes, when fucking in other people's jurisdictions, one must keep quiet.

But I heard something during some semi-rough quickie sex that I've never heard before. "Shut up," he said. The sex was rough, bordering-on-rape sex. Yes. The kind I like. He was on top of me, groaning and moaning about how wet and tight I was. I was giving off the fluttering high-pitched Japanese-y anime/hentai/ecchi sounds. It felt good, I couldn't help it. He was thrusting really hard. Giving it to me really bad. And all those bad-erotica cliches (pumping/pistoning etc...). I think he got off on being all butch cos I was acting really femme. He did promise to fucking rape me. He was just trying to live up to it.

He said "shut up" on the withdraw. Then he thrust back as I was looking at him with shocked wide eyes. I had to cover my mouth with my own hand. I had to keep biting my lips to keep from dying when I couldn't moan.

It took me longer than usual to come of course. And, admittedly, it wasn't as good as when I could moan/scream my brains out.

Note to self: must stop fucking at other people's houses. Rented rooms are best.

The Anatomy of a Blow Job

I've always had a long, weird love-hate relationships with blow jobs. In high school I swore to two things. One was that I would never have a guy pick me up from somewhere just to take me home. It seemed like an awful waste of time unless we have actual plans. The whole thing also reeked of weakness. The other thing I swore was that I would never give blow jobs. I have never broken the first and the second was shattered to itty-bitty pieces my first year in college.

I remember my first blow job, the dude that taught me. He demonstrated by taking my finger in his mouth and slowly sliding it in and out. So for a while that was what I did. Until I learned (pretty immediately, with the next guy after) that it's not the actual having a warm-wet-hole-wrapped-around-a-cock thing that made a good blow job. It was the actual sucking.

I think i intuited it. The next dude I blew didn't tell me exactly to suck. Oh wait, I think he did tell me to suck his cock. So I realized, it's like a freaking straw! You suck on it to get the juice! And yeah, I've been doing that ever since.

Well, I don't always feel like sucking each and every guy. It's a mood thing. Some guys you just don't feel like sucking. Mostly because you feel they're a waste of time. Yes, even when I have sex with someone, I may or may not suck them off.

It perplexed me that some girls do not know about the sucking thing. I'd recently gotten into a conversation with a friend about the term blow job face. It was referring to some girl who had high cheekbones and a perpetual pout. I didn't google the term but I intuited (yep, that's my favorite word right now) that it was referring to her hollowed cheeks. Like she always seemed she was sucking.

The friend I was having the conversation with totally did not get it. She asked "you suck your cheeks in during blow jobs?" I was completely and utterly floored. I stared for a while, lost my composure and gaped. I could not believe I had to explain it. But I did anyway.

See, when you suck on a cock, your cheeks hollow out because you're sucking pretty hard. You aren't sucking your cheeks in, but because you're sucking on something, any excess air pretty much goes out of your mouth, creating a vacuum. All that empty space between your cheeks and your gums/teeth/whatevs is sucked in. And that is how you give a blowjob. You suck on the dick in front of you.

I consulted a guy friend about this. He said some women just don't know how to give blow jobs. I know there are women out there who hate blow jobs. There are those who only do it because they have to. In exchange for cunt lick or shoes. But even if you don't know it, don't you at least theoretically know that you're not just supposed to provide a hole with your mouth? The hole has to be tight. And since you can't tighten your gums too much (because those involve teeth), you compensate by sucking in air, providing suction.

It was a sad, sad day. But seriously, doesn't anyone ever notice that in porn? I thought the Internet pretty much made sure a basic blowjob technique more accessible. I know not all guys like the intense suction, but I'm sure some suction is better than none. That was always the concept of blow jobs for me: suction and tongue. Why do other people not know this?

"I struggled a little, until I gave in."

It was one of those nights. I hadn't gone out in a while. So now I wanted to fucking go out. Meaning bounce from place to place looking pretty. I was chilling at a place in the Makati area with friend Baby Girl. I was a little bit bored and she was a little sleepy. I had the brilliant idea of playing the text roulette game.

The game goes like this: You text a drinking invitation to seemingly random people. These people are mostly never random. They are people you like. "Like" meaning in the context of wanting to get to know them, wanting to actually drink and converse with them, or wanting to sleep with them. A couple replied. One guy had work that night. Another dude was going to Den. And despite the fact I adore that man (One of the best players I've ever met. That word does not even begin to do him justice. and yes, I am a fan) I was not going to set foot in Den again any time soon (mostly cos of this).

One Dude did reply. He was drinking somewhere in the north, and asked what I was doing. The messages turned into a teasing game, with him giving the ominous reply "why, what do you want to do?" I gave a totally safe answer. Casual, platonic and friendly. Right notes of drinking buddy and carefree girl.

I arrived at there drinking session early in the AM. He introduced me to his friends. And I proceeded to platonic the shit out of him. He would put an arm tentatively on the back of my chair, the hand would dangle dangerously close to my shoulder. His hands would also move dangerously close to the territory of my exposed thigh. He would also look at me and smile. And i DID NOTHING.

No moves. No intentions, no nothing. I was innocent and meek and demure and all those other adjectives that are rarely associated with me. Or only associated with me when I'm tired or shy. He finally excused us from his friends and we went inside. I appeared at his mercy. He offered to make me something to eat. I said yes. Then he offered me a bed to sleep in cos I looked tired. And, he promised not to kiss me.

We did sleep in the beginning. Again, lying in the same bed, I did nothing. I was demure. I was innocent. I was THE NICE GIRL. I did sleep. After a couple of hours, I decided to go home. I tried to wait til he woke up a little.

I said his name, he turned to me with a hug. He closed his eyes and smiled. I did take the initiative there and gave him a small kiss. Which he responded to until it turned into a full-on make-out session. He stopped and said "sorry" and something to the effect of "you're just so hot."

I replied with a "no problem."

Then we started kissing again. It started with one of my small kisses. Then his hands started roaming. Whenever he would try to reach for my hips, I'd push his hands away. I'd say, "no, stop," with a little-girl-please-don't smile in my voice. "I have to go home," I reasoned

Finally, he climbed on top of me and declared that he was going to violate me. I still struggled a little, maintaining that light tone of voice. He started grinding his hips against me. I tried to stifle my moans, but of course, I could never stop those things.

When he noticed I was still struggling, he asked if I really had to go home or I just didn't want to do it. I looked at him with wide eyes. He said, with a wicked smile, "this won't take long."

I took off my own underpants.