Bitchicisms

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 find it kind of sucky that some men really think they can claim some sort of ownership when there is clearly none. Especially when the last tenuous ties that supposedly bind have long been severed.

One morning, woke up prior to my normal waking hours to find One Missed Call. Similar to the horror movie by the same name, I totally ignored it. It was from a dude I used to sleep with. And apparently, still sleep with occasionally.

Our common friend told me that that ex-whatever (I was his mistress so he was my what? ex-lover? ex-enabled cheater?) had visited him early that morning. At around the same time the one missed call was registered. So I asked common friend if that was why ex-whatever called. Common friend told me it was because ex-whatever didn't have his new number. So I laid it to rest.

Then I receive calls from ex-whatever one early morning. I was a little amused cos he was cute and...well...amusing to fuck. There's this sheen of innocence on him that remains no matter how many times he's spent inside me. I love dirtying that patina of youthful naivete.

I was also amused because I was drinking with someone else. By that I mean, a man I was maybe, kinda, going to fuck. Ex-whatever kept calling and calling. I already texted him that I was drinking and still, not getting the message, he called again. Finally, I disentangled myself from the conversation with a hurried and apologetic smile and a "sorry, I have to take this call."

Ex-whatever immediately asked where "we" were. He assumed I was with Common Friend. I think Ex-whatever was supposed to meet Common Friend who was, as usual, inexplicably absent. I responded to the question by reiterating my "I'm drinking" SMS.

Further questions followed.

"Are you with Common Friend?"
"No."
"Do you know where he is?"
"I think he's with his gf."
"Why aren't they here ?"
"I don't know."
"Where are you?"
"I'm drinking."
"Aren't you going?"
"I told them to text me when they were going to the wake they didn't."

It all ended with a curt "Ok, enjoy your drinking."

I did text common friend to tell him that so-and-so was looking for him. I didn't receive any reply either from the wanker Common Friend. I went back to drinks. The Dude asked if I had to go. I said no, it was just some wanker looking for another wanker.

I'd recently hung out with a couple of dudes recently. These were formerly known as the boys. And yep, they were back in my life for a while. Until they weren't again when they disappeared in a ball of flame and light.

So I got to talk a little to Cc. Who was now going through tough times cos one of his friends ended up with his girlfriend. He was a bit depressed about it, but it seemed like he was finally going to get over it.

We were all on our way out/home. He started spritzing some cologne that was lying around. The minute he started spraying copious amounts of it on himself, I recognized the scent. That was the cologne that Ak used. Those few (none) familiar with my timelines may remember that Ak was the one I chose one night over Ry and Cc. Even if no one else remembers, apparently, Cc does.

When I started joking to Cc to stay away from me cos he smelled like Ak, he actually came nearer. I said, "ok, come here and let me sniff you". He did stand beside me as I sniffed him and smiled. On cue, Cc started to make fun of Ak. It started with mimicry and the assessment that Ak's actions were completely gay. To which I smiled, "he so isn't gay."

Maybe Cc is bumbed cos I had also recently chosen Ry instead of him. I mean, even with Ak out of the picture, I still chose Ry. Ry who isn't pretty but has a body to die for.

Cc seems to like competing. We were all on our way somewhere and I was in the back seat of a cab sandwiched between Cc and Ry. My hands were already on Ry's crotch, something he tried to hide with his laptop bag. As we were all on our way out of the cab, Cc tried to pull me back in and ask for a kiss. I mostly laughed and pulled away. Was that embarassing for him? I mean, it was pretty obvious he was out of the race already as I'd made my choice. Ry may not be pretty but his body is drool-inducing....and he's more challenging.

Dude and I were talking after sex. Tiring, exhausting sex. We were smoking cigs and the old man was quite wiped out. He suddenly lay down on the bed and then suddenly jerked back right up. He uttered a completely un-manly "eww".

I looked at him. He'd just lain down on some of his own semen. I just stare at him in wonder. He goes, "well, I know why should I be grossed out, it is mine." I use the smile I do when I'm not particularly interested. 5 minutes later he does it again, goes eww again and moves.

Aside from being perplexed at his short term memory loss (easily explained by his age and consistent early-life drug use), I wondered why he was so grossed out. Would he have been less grossed out if he had been assured it was just my juices there? Would it have been more acceptable if its just sweat? I know some (younger and less experienced) guys have a problem with kisses after blowjobs, but come on, its just touching your back. It may be because the wet spot is cold, but puh-lease. An "eww"? Does the word "eww" have a place in the scenario of oral sex and rim jobs and sweat and tons of mingling assorted juices?

Salon recently did a feature about weird memorabilia for the new American president. And while most were the general watches and plates, one that stood out for me was the dildo.

Ozam Group LLC is selling these for $34.95 each. They come in two colors: blue and gold. No black ones as Salon mentioned. But why are the colors blue and gold? Blue can be explained by USA's flag colors but gold?



The ridges at the back and on the balls are predictably realistic and will stimulate nerves for sure. the face and torso on the head are...well..interesting... You can't actually see Obama when you stuff him inside you. Maybe you can just imagine how his entire head looks inside your pussy/ass? Maybe that'll get you off? That the first black American president's entire torso is fucking you?

I just realized recently that I had no idea how women I knew fucked. I knew how most of my guy friends fucked, mostly as a result of several hours of detailed clinical conversation. 

I liked getting sex tips and advice. I like hearing about clear adult objective discussions of sexual congress. Sometimes it repulses me when the person doing the discussing is a friend i somehow find physically disgusting, but it is a part of growth. I do know that to be good at something, anything, one has to practice and study. Those are always the two parts: studyto learn from others and practice to learn from yourself.

Given that  I know how my guy friends kiss, fuck, lick, suck, touch and the things they like to do... mostly because we've all discussed it. Some girlfriends I know their M.O. But some of my nice girl friends? I wonder how they do it...

I mean, of course I don't like thinking of my girl friends "in that way" whatever way that implies. But sometimes I have to wonder...

How do they know they're doing things right if they don't compare? Have they ever seen porn? Do they have any idea what they're doing? Have they ever tried learning anything? Do they engage in ass play? How do they look when they come?

Most of the visual images these questions trigger are kinda gross. Partly because 
I don't find the girls in question attractive, partly because I know their gross-looking boyfriends. But it does make me wonder...

I've been told I generally don't fuck like most women, I just want to know the difference other than I am very very horny. 

I'm horribly, terribly, insanely busy. Which directly conflicts with the fact that this makes me bored. I am too bored to fuck. I am too bored to masturbate. I am even too bored to flirt. Sometimes I am too bored to move.

I swear to myself the wane of my libido is not a sign of depression. And I promise that the minute even food or cigarettes hold no interest for me I will get checked by a psychiatrist.

Why am I not horny?!?!? I haven't had sex in several several weeks and the urge is not there. Is this growing up? Is this focusing on work? That has never stopped me before. Has someone been slipping me sexual inhibitors in my water?! Have I been neutered/lobotomized in my sleep? Is this the effect of prolonged exposure to my laptop?!?!

What's wrong with me!?!?

I have been fielding a couple of offers recently. Weirdly enough I am already cooped up at home yet I have had men/guys/boys contact me, demanding immediate fuckery. What am I, freakin Jollibee? 24/7 Delivery?

I have received offers from, and turned down:

1. Cc - young boy of long ago, the offer was for immediate gratification. I offered and made shady plans knowing it might not push through.
   
2. Friend's bf - the sheer evil thought of it is tempting yet not enough.
3. Larry Flynt - not the larry flynt, but some dude I once had relations with. The moment was there, but for some reason I just wasn't feeling it.
4. Newbie - some dude who's supposedly a player but came off too overeager.
5. another O friend (AOF) - a possible part of the playlist yet something I'm not willing to gamble on.
6. Kk - some call center dude who I may or may not fuck but I am not actively pursuing

Now this is weird. Am I actively going on hiatus? Is stress getting to me? Is Ts right and I'm looking for something more ...Or is Mc right and this is a sign that the end is near and we all have to repent?

I've never felt like the hot girl. I always felt I just got laid because I was a) lucky, b) willing and c) quite good at it. I've mentioned several times that I never felt comfortable making the first move and that meeting men in bars and clubs was never my forte.

I was asking a friend recently about this and he almost laughed when I told him I was shy. I had asked him for tips for playing, something I never really got into. I'm not like some other men I know who enjoy actual mind-fucks and getting-to-know-you games I'd really rather just get down to sex if that was all I really wanted. The guy I asked was the definite man. One of the great Chick Whisperers of this generation.

Anyway, after he simmered down and realized I was serious when I said I was bashful about talking to a man, he started consoling me. He said that I had Den men lined up at one time and they all wanted to fuck me. I told him I never really thought that was a big fucking deal. Because come on, they hang out at Den! One of the most notoriously comforting meat markets ever. It was such a meat market that friends I brought there never got comfortable because they always thought everyone there wanted to fuck someone. And yeah my going there to meet up with hook-ups may not have helped the reputation of the place as a laid back bar.

Then my friend the Great White Hype told me I was hot. And there were women that most Den men, including him, didn't even bother talking to.

But how do I measure fuckability? Sure it's a little evil and backward to measure self-worth by how much attention you get from other people, but come on. I like being told I'm attractive and fuckable and hot. Sometimes it seems that I learn to love my body more from the attention I get from men. It's so politically incorrect but I can't help it. I like being appreciated. And I appreciate them back. Most of the time with my mouth.

So how do we measure fuckability? Is it a matter of how many people you have to turn down becuase of your standards? Cos that would mean there are some men (or at least one) hotter than me. Is it a matter of how many people you get to fuck? Is it how many people want to fuck you? Is it simply a state of mind?

I've been told alternately that I look like a girl who enjoys sex, a nice girl, the ultimate girl next door and a girl with intriguing lips (they're kinda pouty). So does it matter why I'm fuckable? as long as I am? Is being fuckable equated with being hot? Well yeah I think fuckable = hot given that the ones who want to fuck you are equally hot. So is that what I think fuckable is? A measure of how many other hot people want to fuck you?

Wait, does this even matter? Let's just fuck!

I always thought he was just, you know, a selfless lover. I always thought it was part of his M.O. I had believed it was part of his nature to make sure I always came first, noisily and wetly, against his thrusting, curling fingers. The first time we had sex, I came so much, he marveled at how wet his hand had become.

He always received praise from me. Not face to face though. Always when he was gone, and to anyone who asked. He was not a particularly pretty boy. He did have a nice body. And a latent penchant for sadomasochism and domination that I particularly enjoyed. He was not particularly large in the penis department, but could be very very talented. Simply put, he has great potential.

Until it came to light that it was not patience nor a sense of guilt at cheating on his girlfriend. It was apparently merely Erectile Dysfunction. Ry seems to be a 22 year old with an erectile dysfunction problem.

Now how do I solve that? Despite me being happy with being finger fucked to orgasm, I would someday like to teach him some new actual sex tricks. Any suggestions?

In one of our little PPFH (Playa Playa From the Himalaya) projects, we decided to create the Player's Code. It contains a list of rules for players to use. One of the things I contributed to that list is " There are no taboos". Of course with the silently appended "unless you find them icky".

That comes to mind now in lieu of recent events. What is the bond exactly between common friends? If the boyfriend of your close friend's best friend wants to sleep with you, would you? The girl in question is nice, though we haven't seen each other in a while. Come to think of it, I think she still owes me some cash. We weren't that close since we didn't get to hang out a lot.

The guy is semi-cute, younger, and seems very eager to fuck. I think he's in one of those, "I'm really really horny so I'll check the nearest available woman I can fuck." I'm not sure if I wanna fuck him though. But I do want to play.

There are no taboos.

So this is Dasha Astafieva. She's a Russian model/reality star. The buzz on the interwebs is that she's someone Hugh Hefner is screwing. I don't really watch Girls Next Door so I have no idea what the deal is with her and the rest of Hef's girlfriends.









I do sort of prefer her over the others. Holly, Bridget and Kendra always seemed fake to me. But I do like the fact they were able to make fun of themselves for the Rockstar video. Assuming they realized the song was sarcastic and inside-out. If anyone explained it to them that is.

They kinda look fake and generic compared to the exotic looking Dasha above.

Ever have one of those mornings? When you just wake up and realize your nipples are perky and you would want nothing more than to have someone fuck you? Well yes this is one of those mornings.

It's weird when these days happen. They don't particularly happen often. It doesn't matter when I last had sex or what I wanted. There isn't actually anything that could trigger this. My libido had been dormant for a while, due to other things I had to do. Responsibilities and such.

But then I wake up, all tingly, feeling all frisky.

Like today.

I seem to have lost it. Or misplaced it.

Ever since I made the not terribly smart yet horribly compelling choice to see this man steadily, my instincts have been off. I got victimized by a speedfucker. I have not accepted the blatant attempts at flirting care of H and Cc. I am unfocused and undisciplined when it comes to work. I am distracted and moody. Or maybe this is all me PMS-ing. Or maybe because he got me used to constantly talking to him. Then he got me used to constantly seeing him. Then he just went away.

Regardless. I have been all of those things recently. Insane mood swings. Acting high as a kite then low as...well...an ant that lives underground? Anyway, there I was pissed, bored, lazy, still sleepy. And a chance to play presents itself.

An old friend is online. One of the boys we used to work with. One I never got to play with.

To provide a little back story: everyone teased him about being gay behind his back. I never really thought he was actually gay, I just always thought he was weak. We got to be close before. I got to talk to him a lot because he seemed like the mature one in the group. We got to hang out one on one. Bv always said it was because this boy wanted me too.

Everything came to a head when I asked him to drop by the office. He actually lived nearby so it wasn't that much of a problem. It was just me and Bv anyway. So yes he drops by. Imagine my shock when I see him all dressed up. Fresh from the bath no less. Looking all fresh and kind of cute...

So he comes. I want to say I was prepared, except I wasn't. A number of late nights and all-nighters...I looked tired, haggard. Bv, being who he is, gave us a chance to be alone. And the opportunity was there. He was shy, wouldn't look at me. Yet he kept coming near me. Kept wanting contact, wanting proximity. And I didn't take it.

In my defense, I was thinking of taking Ak seriously at the time. And I was tired. But the hunting instinct could've been there. Prey was rubbing against the predator, yet the predator did not bite.

So the prey went home. Bv surprised, shocked and generally concerned as to why the prey slipped away. I told him I was tired. Then I told him I was distracted. Ak was on my mind at the time. And yeah, it kinda felt...not worth it?

This boy was sweet. He was kinda. But the lack of balls on his part kinda clinched it for me. Someone who can barely look you in the eye is kinda weaker. I no longer want weaker men.

My friends and I used to play The Ideal Game. This game involves a whole lot of imagination and a culmination of daydreaming and fantasies. The realistic ones of course. I've never told anyone during an Ideal Game that my ideal me 5 years down the road would be 2 inches taller and European.

One thing that stuck to my head recently was my consistent answer to the Ideal Day 5 Years from Now If I Were In A Relationship. It had to be clearly delineated that my answer was for a day with an S.O. Since, ordinarily, an S.O. wasn't really part of my ideal.

And it freaked me out when I played the game recently. The last time I had played it I was 22 years old. Now I was turning 25. And still. Nowhere near ideal.

My ideal day was always clearly delineated in my mind. Living with my partner in some crowded city on top of some tower with my own pool. Yes this means I want a penthouse. With a big furry dog (golden retriever. By then I reckon I'd be sick and tired of small toy dogs. ). Waking up together. Having sex. Having breakfast. Going for a swim and walking the dog as he leaves for work. Writing at home. Submitting articles and sending revisions off to my publisher. Him coming back. Having dinner and Jack and cokes (future me still can't imagine liking wine). Going to a friends art exhibit. Talking with interesting people. Having intelligent conversations. Being mostly adored by the our smart, witty trendy friends whom we adore back. Going back home to have sex. Waking up the next day and doing it all over again.

Is it so difficult to find a hard working, attractive, attentive creative man? Of course the category includes someone who is attracted to a semi-neurotic, moody, bratty, bitchy, sexually addicted and nicotine famished woman.

Well... that's why it's called an ideal.

Even though I've been called a player, and I sometimes call myself a player, I have to confess, I have no idea what this game is about.

In my mind I thought the objective of the game was to fuck as many people as I could...and not just any person at that...people who were actually logged at "above average" in the hotness meter. But now it seems that its not just about that.

H once told me he wanted to play with me and not play me. Meaning he wanted to have fun but not to have fun at my expense. And it seems that this line is all blurred and shit.

I don't really think I play. I think it's just a rep I have.

If playing means fucking as many people as possible, then yeah, I do play that game. I have no great concern over these men and boys I sleep with. If they appeal to me, if I feel a connection, if I think they can satisfy me, I fuck them. If not. Mostly I stay away from them. The sooner I fuck them, the sooner they're off the hit list. Loitering is not allowed.

If playing means mind games and deception, I'm not that into it. Sure I have my styles, my tactics, my moves, but aside from the tricks leading to actual sex, they aren't that many. After the sex is over, who the fuck cares?

If playing means having a strategy, having a reason for every word said, every action done, then I don't play. I may imagine that everything I say and do serves an ulterior motive, but it doesn't really. I'm quite impulsive and have no real reason to make things appear otherwise.

I don't form strategies to get my way into people's pants. I'm a girl. And a hot one at that. The only thing on my mind is getting in getting off and getting out.

Ok fine yes I play mind games once in a while, but I never meant to hurt anyone...

But then is this post all a part of the game?

From now on I will no longer say I'm a player because I don't understand the game. There's no need to. I don't want to prolong any waiting period or juggle multiple relationships. I don't want to catch any fish that are swimming by. I just fuck. Not even that much come to think of it.

I'm not a player I just crush a lot. And I do just really love sex.

In the tradition of my previously posted Tenga onanism tools, I have only recently found the amazing LoveHoney website.

In the spirit of the Tenga Deep Throat Cups, these toys help guys masturbate on the move. Except for one major difference: these toys actually have a bare resemblance to the real thing.


I also found these sex dolls by Pipedream Products that bear unlicensed resemblance to celebrities. There's one based on Jennifer Alba, Christina Aguilera, Lindsay Lohan and Eva Longoria. Amazingly, Sarah Jessica Parker is included in the celebrities mimicked. But what
perplexes me is that there's a sex doll made of Tori Spelling.

Why does Tori Spelling have an unlicensed sex doll? Is she even attractive? Do men dream of fucking Tori Spelling's 3 holes (orally, vaginally and anally)?


It constantly amazes me what men find arousing.

Weirdly enough, Keith Richards' new Louis Vuitton ad shot by Annie Leibovitz attracted my attention. Oh wait, he looks like someone I know, and dated...and...aw crap...

Sure sure, I really liked that guy and he was funny and witty and charming and had a really really huge penis, and in about 10 more years he will probably look like the above photo.

They're called kiss marks or hickies or love bites. And they are caused by tiny broken capillaries that turn red underneath the skin when someone sucks too hard. They can be removed by using a round object (such as a tube of lipstick) to press and massage the area in a circular movement so that blood can flow once again. They can be covered by concealer, though the green tinged concealer is better as green negates red.

But why do people like hickies so much? I personally have no problems with sporting hickies, as long as my mom won't see them and they are not too obvious.

Hickies are like little souvenirs of a fun night. I like how they're made and I like how it feels when they're being made. The sucking, the nibbling, the biting... It makes me moan all the more harder than I actually do.

My problem is that I bruise easily, and as a consequence, the most moderately passionate bite can leave a mark that lasts for no less than 3 days. This would be fine if the area were on my breasts or décolletage or on my collar bone, but having red marks that were obviously made by another mouth so high on my neck makes me anxious.

Despite all the evidence to the contrary my mother would still like to believe that I am a prim and proper girl (though she sometimes acts as an alarmist by wondering if I am the biggest slut this side of Q.C.). And as I do not want to answer any questions about my sex life and who I've been doing it with and why I was doing it for fun (still a bit conservative my mom, what can I say?), I try to hide the evidence as much as I can and that includes hickies.

I once told H that if my mom saw a hickey on me and inevitably ask "What's that?" I would immediately start scratching the offending mark and pretend it was a mosquito bite. On more obvious marks I would then rely on turtlenecks and cover ups to hide it.

Once my mom and her boyfriend picked me up from a trip to Puerto Galera where I had hooked up with a bartender (yes that fetish was alive even 3 years ago). In the clear bright light of day, my brand new hickies were spotted and yes, I pretended they were mosquito bites and showed as corroborating evidence the other insect bites on my legs and arms.

Do I believe I am fooling anyone? No. Does my mom really believe me when I tell her I was bit by mosquitoes on the neck, the exact same spot where she also always sports similar marks? No. She doesn't. She pretends she does, and she thinks she does but deep in her heart of hearts she knows her daughter is kind of a slut/playgirl/bitch and is silently still thankful that she has not yet gotten pregnant or sick. Then why do I keep hiding my hickies? I don't want to flaunt reality in her face, it may only lead to exile, tighter security and more questions.

See, despite my mother's backward and semi-conservative thinking, I love her and would spare her all the details and grief over my sex life. I try to be discreet though I know she knows, or rather, she thinks she knows, what's going on.

I am also kind sometimes.