As clearly as one can remember anything after shots of Burnette’s, I remember the very first small penis I ever saw. In hindsight he wasn’t really that small (width saved him) but at the time I’d only seen maybe three penises up close and the lighting in his apartment bathroom was very unforgiving. Years later, I follow his current girlfriend on Instagram and often wonder what her life is about.You fuck a small penis on the regular. What’s that like? Maybe she doesn’t know all the inches the world has to offer. I’ve had sex with men that could change the state of your vagina for good. Straight up childbirth status! Those types of penises have their time and place and drawbacks too but I’d always wondered WHAT IS IT LIKE?! Do you feel like you’re giving something up? Is there something apparently missing before, during or after? Are you unfulfilled every time you get naked?
And then…I had sex with a small penis.
And had many orgasms.
There is one very clear idea women must understand before engaging in relations with a small penis. You are not going to get fucked. You have to do the fucking. It’s the idea that a small-membered man can fuck and please you that makes small penis sex such a fail.
The second small penis I ever saw got much closer than the first. He tricked me with notable oral sex techniques and when the time came for the big show it felt more like a commercial break. Like, seriously. I was laying there wondering if he had even put it in and he’s just humping his life away to no avail. That moment ended with me pretending I’d had too too may drinks and was feeling quite sick. This is the same technique I used when faced with the third small penis I’d ever seen. It was in a car on the expressway headed home because apparently it’s the new wave to give girls lots of shit and or suggest sexual favors as payment for taking them home after a night out (we will discuss this later).
It was the fourth and final small penis I had ever seen that I gave a chance. Surprisingly too, he was the smallest of the small but I still managed to make it work. A few times.
I meeean…everything’s cool until someone gets hurt. Sexual relations in most any instance is a good thing until it negatively affects other aspects of your life. There used to be a time in my life (a.k.a college) when I could get my freak on Friday and Saturday night and give no more than a head nod to my “partner” in the dining halls on Sunday afternoon. Over time I guess I’ve grown to want a little more from my relationships. I can’t do the friends who fuck thing anymore. I just want more too much and I can’t help it. Just fucking, though, I can still get into. But then that means I don’t need to be bumping into you at the time clock or water cooler. Idk…I just think if it’s really all about the sex, which it DAMN WELL SHOULD BE IF YOU’RE WILLING TO PUT YOUR JOB ON THE LINE ‘CAUSE SOMETIMES IT COMES TO THAT ‘CAUSE THIS IS REAL FUCKING LIFE AND FOLKS NEED PRESCRIPTIONS THAT AIN’T GETTING FILLED, why can’t you find someone somewhere else to do your dirt with? Why complicate your life? I know some people don’t have shit better to do but why make crying in the work bathroom a total possibility for yourself (or for someone else)?
Now, if this is some sort of thrill of the chase, my much older and sophisticated widowed boss wants to throw me on his mahogany desk and show me how to collate and copy then, THAT’S WHAT’S UP!!! ‘Cause how often does anyone have that experience and if anything it’ll be a fun story, ya know?
Sex at work is all about you and what you can handle. I agree with one hitter quitters as long as both parties continue on not being too sure of each other’s last name, but if things become too regular and a neighbor knows the make and model of your car, it’s an issue. Or will become one real soon.
Hope my opinion is useful. Write me back with yours or email me, fool!
….uggh! I could go on and on about this. I’m sitting here thinking of all the times I’ve heard of people who were “just fucking” super regularly and went their separate happy ways afterward. I mean, I know it can happen because it’s been me a couple times but it’s been soooo not me more than a couple times. And I understand the fun and convenience of finding someone at work you’d like to bone but at what point does it go from hitting them up every couple weeks to them being the person you’re drunk dialing on a Friday night? There is a really fine line with all this, which is why I’d suggest few venture there at all.
I can’t believe I let my second blogiversary go almost completely un-shouted out. It was March 3rd and I’m so happy my baby has grown and changed and become something that lifts me (and others) up, which is surprising considering how it started. I can actually have lengthy and pleasant conversation with the boy who hurt me so bad I had to tell the whole internet about it. A year and a half post, he said he was sorry and I cried like I’d been waiting every night since to hear it.
Looking back at times like that give me hope for my current situation where thoughts of my most recent ex-almost-relationship sneak all too easily into my head. I mean, I’m over things for the most part. Like, I’ve mourned all the immediate losses. I’m over no “Good Morning” texts and I’m okay with the fact that no one cares how my day went. I’m over the fact that the guy I used to see everyday doesn’t want to hang out with me…ever. Subsequently, I’m over having to go to movies and eat at restaurants alone. I’m slowly but surely reverting back to the one woman show.
Still, there is one last piece of the puzzle giving me a bit of trouble: the sex. Specifically, the penis. First, I should tell you a thing or two about me and my ex-almost. We had lots of sex. Our sexual chemistry was far and beyond that of our actual chemistry, which is probably why I’m here today telling you a bit too much about our not-even-a-relationship. In any case, we did it (or something like “it”) all the time.. everywhere…all the time. So you can imagine my struggle as a newly single woman trying her best to save face with her ex-almost while still satisfying her physical needs. And I can’t even find peace in masturbation because, duh! Who/what am I thinking about? Uggh! Have you ever whimpered while masturbating? Not like a “Oh my God! I can’t believe how great this feels” whimper, but a “Why doesn’t he want me? Waah! Waah!” whimper.
The sex was (is?) great but I’ve had great sex in the past and know there’s great sex to be had in the future. I just don’t have it in me to go out into the world and find it or let it find me. The idea of letting someone new in my vagina is nauseating. Seriously. And it has less to do with me being hung up on ex-almost and more to do with me trying to keep the list of men who’ve seen my areola on one side of the page, ya know?
Plus, there’s the familiarity thing. Ex-Almost knows what I like and how I like it and vice versa. I’ll be damned if I disrobe for mediocre sexy time. Ex-almost’s penis and I developed a relationship. I took ownership of him. “He” was mine to care for and such like a girlfriend should and it looks like breaking up with “him” is going to be the hardest battle of all. Couple all that with the fact that Ex-almost cares whether I live or die…and how I’m getting home. The two of us still give a shit about each other which makes things all the more complicated. I made a vow to myself a little while back that I was through having meaningless sex, which, for me, means sex with men I’m not in a relationship with. I doubt this resolution will last but for the time being I think I’ve had my fill of “oops!” sex and would like to see what sex in like/love is all about. This presents even more issues as it means I must get back out there in the dating game. But the dating game is so difficult when you’re out of school. What am I to make of glances on the street and “You’re beautiful“‘s at work? How do I turn a crush into coffee when passing notes or Facebook chat are not an option (I don’t do FB chat)?
Dude, twenty-two going on twenty-three is a rough place to be. I still have all the same kiddie urges with knowledge enough to know that they’re indeed childish. Like, I’m so down with passing a note to this guy at work who could have it all except that’s totally not what’s up in 2012 after the age of recess. So, what it all comes down to is: I really want to have sex but at this point in time ONLY with my ex except every time we do I get a “But, Christine, why?” feeling and I’d really like to have sex with someone else except I know that that won’t leave me feeling any better unless I cultivate some sort of meaningful relationship which I don’t know how to do because the city of Chicago is completely unlike the small college town and all-girls Catholic school where this girl learned her best moves.
For a change I’m asking you all, what’s a girl to do?
Love you guys!
Sometimes I feel bad for constantly suggesting that you all watch porn as a means of enhancing your sex life. I get that watching other people have sex isn’t everyone’s cup of tea. But watching porn isn’t just about getting yours when you’re horny and alone. I think it can really help those who are timid sexually. It gives you the opportunity see the wild world we live in and experience the variety of fun and pleasure out there. And I honestly don’t wanna see the kind of sex you’re having if you feel uncomfortable watching others do it (snooze fest fa sho’). Porn will get you over that “Icky! we’re naked” playground-cooties bullshit quick. And a lot of you need it (I’m talking to you “I don’t give head” girl).
‘Cause what’s my motto? If you’re going to do it, do it! All out. As few inhibitions as possible. I acknowledge that sex is an important act but if you aren’t married and planning a family, it should be the best time—every time!
In the spirit of encouraging porn viewership, I’m going to share some of the notable spins, turns, dips, and summersaults I see in the XXX world so we can all figure out ways to implement them in our own sex lives. Really, I’m using this as a sexual wish list. I’m adding these moves to my shopping cart in hopes that I find a sugar daddy trying to “Checkout Now”.
I remember this one video like it was yesterday. It was moreso a home made sex tape situation than porno, which is my preference if you needed to know. Anyways, the woman was riding in reverse cowgirl and just as she was about to finish, the guy hooks both of his arms under her thighs, pulls her up and throws that thang right on his face. It was the most seamless 69 I’ve ever seen. It was 10s across the board. The seamlessness of it all i was turned me on most. I remember once, freshmen year, my good friend was telling me about the sex she had the night before. She was describing how it was extremely hot in the room so, she told him she couldn’t stand it anymore. The guy lifts her off the bed and turns on the fan all while continuing to fuck her. This blew our little minds then. Still kinda does. I love a man that is assertive in all areas of life including the bedroom. Make your moments bold and sure. Know where you want me and how you want me. Tell me what’s up ‘cause I definitely have no problem letting you know some things.
The other aspect of this little move that really wet my whistle was that he interrupted her stroke to pay closer attention to the V. He pulled the vagina OFF of his dick. Like, dude…I don’t know what it is but there’s something to be said for stopping mid stroke just to have a few licks. I won’t say it, but there IS something to be said, gents!
So, remember, he hooked his arms under her thighs. He pulled her up with his forearms, not hands. Probably not important, but visually it was tops.
Ladies, will you be adding this to your wishlist? It’s so simple, why not? What have YOU seen on the triple-X screen lately?
You know those times when a funny memory is triggered at the sight of a certain place or bite of a certain food or whiff of a certain
scent liquor? I may be alone in this but times like these are my favorite times, just, ever! Like, laughing to myself about something only I understand or remember at a time or place that is more than likely extremely inappropriate—you guys! Fuck catching the clock at 11:11. Fuck “see a penny, pick it up”. Fuck trains that run express when I’m late for work. Laughing to myself at my own expense in an unlikely public forum is the greatest combination of things. At school, I had tons of these moments to keep me busy through a day of classes. If the weekend was a full-blown Wed-Sat marathon, there were likely things I didn’t remember Sunday that would come to me in a flash Monday morning and leave me Home-Aloning my face in the back row of Public Speaking.
Some of the best of these moments came as a result of sex. Duh! Ok, so, like, do we all know what “sex-legs” are? Not sure why I asked, ‘cause I’m certain I just made it up. Anyway, sex-legs are what you’re left with after a night of serious sexing. The sex was more unusual (new positions, etc), lasted longer or was more strenuous on your body (thighs specifically). The good part about sex-legs is that they don’t leave you completely crippled no matter how hard your lover may have tried. But, the positive quickly turns south as the day goes on and your legs are put to the test. “The test” being climbing stairs and sitting in chairs. Funnily enough, stairs and chairs are what most college campuses have in excess.
So, imagine you leave your house jolly and fine. A bitch just had sex last night, gon’ girl!! You reach your classroom building amidst the huddled masses and are shocked to discover you may need the elevator.
Y’all! I think the laughter comes to mask the pain. We were fine the whole way over, what’s the issue? My legs are so shocked at the sudden debilitating weight of my body. They’re confused and asking questions. Suddenly, I think I need to go home. A chick isn’t even killing these steps on a good day. I don’t need more excuses to take my time. What else can I do but laugh and move right to let people pass. I take the widest possible turns on each landing before the next flight. I’m 5 minutes late and can’t imagine getting up to leave after what it took to bend down into the desk chair.
I’d typically spend the whole class giggling about how ridiculous life is and wondering what specific act during the sex left me in such a predicament. Then I’d text my roommate: “We’re gonna start working out after we finish those frozen pizzas, mmkay?”
So, ladies, if you’re like me and have a figure maintained by skipping breakfast, leaving the food pyramid up to a plate of nachos and keeping your fingers crossed, we’re getting our acts together right this minute. Because there are those times when you’re on top and the P isn’t giving up the goods. Most ladies have a limit for the amount of time they can take on top—that moment when you really can’t muster up one more bounce, twerk, grind, shake, hiccup, nothing! My last lover would let me rock it til’ the wheels fell off. I’d say, “Baby, I’m tired” and he’d say, “I know. I can feel you shaking”. Well, damn! Hop in here any time, buddy. The person who can do the most push-ups, does all the work is my rule (See also: person who owns running tights and person who wears watch capable of assisting in minor surgery). Even still, I’d like it if I could do maybe ten push-ups (or five).
Ok, onto the workout, which I made up randomly. I’m not Googling shit (proper names of body parts or muscles or none of that) so, deal.
First is my favsies because I do it in my heels. Does anyone else wear their heels around the house when no one’s home? No? Well, in my life and times I’ve done lots of naked (and underweared) dancing in front of the mirror. I just enjoy it. And I think I’m going to make that a requirement for this exercise. Because you should like the way you look and be able to relish in it especially if you’re wanting someone else to. [And it will definitely help build your esteem. I remember when I was in high school and a little younger I had such an issue with my stretch marks. Now, I think I’ve stared them down so often, I don’t even notice them.] So, turn on a song of your choice, preferably up-beat. Put your heels on and get ready to do some squats! The heels will help keep your whole leg engaged in trying to maintain balance and your legs will look great in the mirror because everything looks better in heels. Do one squat and come up. Half of that is what we’re shooting for. Position yourself at the halfsies mark and stay there. Now, bounce from that position down to a full to the beat of the music. Do that for an eight count then come all the way up on one leg (knee still slightly bent on the standing leg), and wiggle the other leg to the side for four counts. I mean, I do a dirty girl dancing in the club wiggle but if “Hokey Pokey” wiggle helps you picture it, fine. Essentially, you’re dancing. It’s supposed to be fun. Switch legs. Wiggle the other then get back down into that squat bounce. This may not sound like much, but, honey, in 4-5 inches, two songs will be pushing it. Two songs, 6-8 minutes a day. That’s a quick little sweat to start or end the day.
After the squats, do however many push-ups you’re comfortable with and slowly build up over days or weeks or whatever. I’m at three! Haven’t decided yet whether doing them on the bed makes it easier or more difficult. My body isn’t ready for it either way. In my mind, push-ups on the bed would better prepare you for real world application, ya know? But what do I know?
It would also behove us to strengthen our core muscles which is where all the power behind our “stroke” comes from. Planking for 30 seconds is a good quick way. Too, you can lay on your back and lift your legs up a few inches off the ground (ankles together) and hold this position. Lift your legs up until your lower tummy burns a little. You can hold that position for 30 seconds and call it a day. Or grab a ball or whatever you have in your house (a weight, whatever), lift it over your head (with both hands) and bring the ball down and legs up to meet. Lower your legs but don’t let them touch the ground. Repeat.
Sound like a good place to start, right? I’m jealous of all of you out there that can run for miles and all that jazz. Must be nice. I know some of you are going to ask “What’s the normal limit for time on top?” It shouldn’t be any brief amount of time. Nowhere in the seconds. Longer than a few minutes. Ideally you should be able to bring it on home on top. Like knowing how to build a fire, it’s a survival skill. Times might get hard. Famine may sweep the land. Your lover may have less enthusiastic days. Sprained ankle. Bad sandwich. What’s a girl to do? Live without? Ummmm…
Any questions about certain positions ailing you? Need tips on how to make certain things work better for your body or environment or whatever? Let’s come up with something!
So, I got pretty drunk the other night. Not completely wasted but drunk enough to wake up with a half eaten Ramen noodle on my cheek and a Wendy’s shopping bag at my side whose purpose I’m sure was to catch the remainder of my insides should they decide to make The Great Escape.
It was one of those mornings I haven’t had since my freshman year of college. One of those mornings where you’re determined not to move an inch until some serious questions are answered. Questions like, “Where are my pants?” and “How did I get this gnarly paper cut?” For bonus points: How much Wendy’s does one have to order to get this Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Sale sized shopping bag?
It didn’t help that I wasn’t in my own home. The three seconds of “WHERE AM I? WHAT IS THIS?” would’ve been entertaining seconds indeed had reality show cameras been rolling. Alas, MTV doesn’t wanna make this money.
As if I needed anything else clouding my mind, I was also faced with the odd fact that I had a dream. A wasted dream. Now, if you know anything about mixing malt liquor with cheap wine and other terrible life choices, you know that that just doesn’t happen. How can my brain possibly concoct imaginative plot lines when I’m trying earnestly to stuff my foot inside of my purse and wear it as a shoe (May have actually disproved my point with that one)?
And, of course, with my brain being the jokester that it is, I didn’t have a “normal” dream like the one where I’m dating a college-aged Christopher Robin and walking Eeyore, Tigger, Pooh and Piglet on a leash around our forest village.
No, in this freak ass fantasy I never knew I had, I’m smack dab in the middle of a lesbian threesome.
This wouldn’t be an issue had I not been enjoying it so very much within the dream. So very very much. To add insult to injury, I wasn’t even on the receiving end of any of it. Ever. I was handing it out. Literally. And mouthing it out too, I guess. If that’s a thing.
Y’all it was crazy! I woke up worried that I had been making noises in real life because I WAS DIGGING IT. For real. Had I not been busy with the paper cut thing and trying to reassure myself that I’m indeed heterosexual, I would’ve been doing my best to get back to the bitches.
And I can call them bitches ‘cause they were dream bitches.
I might’ve just gotten a glimpse into the male mind.