Dancey-pants

I head over to my gay bestie’s annual 27th birthday celebration, because he’s never getting older and the bitch is beautiful, to have some cocktails and pre-game before we all go out dancing at Bernies. I meet some new people, like Andre and his friend Dancey-pants. I saw Andre driving my friend’s truck when I first pulled in and immediately wondered if it was being stolen- he waved at me, which is pretty disarming if you’re struggling with “am I having a racially prejudiced thought right now?” Later he came back and introduced himself, and laughed that he knew I assumed the Black guy was stealing the vehicle- which is why he waved at me all friendly. Then he reads my t-shirt which shows Egyptian pyramids and says SLAVERY GETS SHIT DONE. He hugs me tightly and says we need to be best friends. I like him. We chit-chat for a bit and he is delighted in my dark sense of humor and casual racism. Hooray! I can already tell we’re going to get along perfectly.

I assumed his friend Dancey-pants was gay, and hung out with him like one of my homies. (I also assumed he was Hispanic based on his features and skin tone.) These are my people and I love them dearly. My blog comes up in conversation and I’m met with praise and love. Who better to support All The Dicks than a bunch of hot gay dudes? I ask Dancey-pants for his number and text him the link, he texts me back “I’m straight.” Now I’m confused. The conversation segues into Tinder and how I’ve single-handedly ushered in a new crop of users via my Facebook group and online postings. People want to get in on this thing I’m doing, and I fully support everybody getting laid and having a good time. Dancey-pants opens up Tinder on his phone and asks me if I can tell which girl is the user on the bio based on the group pics- I spot her immediately. Ok, so he is straight. Neat! He tells me this is the first time he’s opened the app in months, and he’s already got 5 matches tonight! See, I’m doing the Lord’s work. You’re welcome everybody else.

We get to Bernies and start getting down; I love my boys and I love my friends. We’re dancing, we’re owning the floor, we’re drinking and laughing- this is love. Dancey-pants starts breaking it DOWN and I can’t take my eyes off him. His footwork is incredible and his energy level is thrilling. He’s got the heel-toe style of break dancing down pat. He’s dropping to the floor and doing kicks and spins- be still my heart! Nothing gets the blood flowing to my lady parts faster than a man who dances- especially if he dances WELL. One of the things I liked most about his performance was he was “challenging” these Marines in their dress blues to join him on the floor and break it down- and they did! So now I’m watching this hot as balls man just cut an absolute rug and also get some somewhat reserved men in uniform to throw off their inhibitions and dance. Consider me a fan. At this point I’ve got my eye on the Marines AND Dancey-pants. RAWR. Love those blues, boys. I end up taking a break at some point and sitting next to Dancey-pants while he chats up one of our own- when their conversation ends I lean over and ask in his ear if he’d like to be an entry in my blog. I couldn’t hear his response but I noted it as an affirmative. Locked down.

My friends are all well aware of my affinity for uniforms and we’ve agreed to wingman for each other respectively. I head outside to cool off and catch up with Dancey-pants that’s smoking with 2 Marines. This motherfucker, God damn it. What a fucking cockblock. We’re all chatting and hitting it off, I mention my Daddy was a Marine in the Korean War and was in The Battle of Porkchop Hill. They love it- they go wild. “YOUR DAD IS A MOTHERFUCKING HERO!” I know! ❤ The conversation is going well, we’re all hanging out, I’m putting out feelers with these two to see if they’re my type and I’m their type. I haven’t even started to lay the mack down yet when we all get into the “how old are you? how old do I look?” talk- and they all agree I look much younger because of my height and braces. Then Dancey-pants asks me if I can suck a good dick with braces. RUDE! The Marines laugh, I laugh, he laughs. You son of a bitch. Then he throws his arm around me and calls me his girl, to calm the offense of asking a “lady” such a bold question publicly. NO, NO, NO! Fuck. The Marines are lost. There’s no saving these two, he basically pissed on my leg in front of them. Shit. Well at least there’s one more Marine left in the group that might work out in my favor- he’s taller, and older. I kind of like him just for those reasons, and he seems a little more shy. I tell Dancey-pants to work his wingman magic and get me that man since he ROYALLY cockblocked me. He apologizes and says he’s got my back. Good, god damn it.

Later in the night it’s time to leave, two of our boys have gotten very comfortable on a couch together and apparently the homophobic bar staff at Bernies decided to throw a pissy fit about it making them uncomfortable. The boys weren’t doing anything explicit or inappropriate- they were just obviously gay and into each other. Fuck you too, pricks.  So we roll out to the gay bar, I’ve got the love birds and Dancey-pants. We get into my car and get down the road to Myrna’s when Dancey-pants tells me the taller Marine was asking about me before we left, even clarified that I wasn’t his girlfriend. YOU SON OF A BITCH WHY DIDN’T YOU SAY SOMETHING BEFORE WE LEFT!? Fuck it, we’re going back- we ditch the lovebirds to walk to the bar and head back. As soon as we park and head that way we see the Marines leaving the bar in their group, we missed our shot. My rage is building. Good thing he’s cute. He asks me what my backup plan is since the Marines are bust- I quip that he’s the plan. He says alright. Walking from the car to Myrna’s he mentions he thinks I’m hot- score. Homie likes a big girl with attitude and no fear. I like how he dances and I’ve got an opinion that men who dance well make better lovers, for several reasons: 1, they’re confident. 2, they’ve got stamina. 3, they’re passionate. 4, they’ve got rhythm. 5, they gives no fucks. These are all quality features for picking a potential lover. He mentions he hasn’t had sex since he’s been in Alaska, coming up here in July, and is concerned it might be over very quickly. I ask him if he can get it up and go again, and he laughs of course he can. Well then problem solved, right? I can go all night with the right partner.

We all dance for a while at Myrna’s and then it’s definitely time to go- we head back to the gayborhood to watch Kylie Minogue videos like grown ass adults. We get about 3 videos in and I inform Dancey-pants it’s time for us to head back to my house. He’s taking too long to gather his things as I’m walking out the door, I can’t help myself- I clap my hands with authority and say chop chop. I know it’s bitchy, but it’s also funny. He knows what’s up, our friends know what’s up- we’re leaving to get laid and DD likes to get laid. As soon as he’s in my car he asks if I’m going to get him back in time to catch his flight- he’s going back to the East Coast tomorrow. Of course, unless I murder him and stuff his body in my freezer. He laughs. That’s a good sign! He asks me “Do you always get what you want?” The answer is yes. He replies “of course you do.” He informs me he has no condoms so I go and pick some up at the gas station by my house. The cashier mentions they’ve overstocked on some brands and are discounting them to get rid of them, so I grab an additional 2 boxes with the 2 boxes I’m already buying. That should be enough for a while, right? I should probably just buy stock in Trojan at this point.

We get back to my place and he uses the bathroom while I start the wriggly process of unzipping my dress. He comes out and immediately stops me, insisting he help. What a gentleman! Down to my under garments he wants to try to unhook my bra one-handed because it’s been so long- nailed it! I’m naked and hop into my bed. He gets in with me and we snuggle up; he’s still wearing some clothing. He tells me this feels nice as we just lay there intertwined and embracing. I tell him if this is all he wants that’s fine, too. I’m happy just to have a pretty man in my bed holding me. He tells me oh no, he’s going to fuck my brains out tonight. HOORAY!

He starts kissing me and I love it; it’s gentle, passionate, and sweet. He goes down on me like an expert- I can’t even accurately describe his technique other than he should probably teach a class. His tongue-to-clit stimulation is pretty much the bees-knees and if I didn’t know any better I’d assume he’d had a vagina previously with how exquisitely he worked it with his mouth. The sex itself is phenomenal; he’s perfectly endowed, has a great rhythm, and dirty talked in Spanish in my ear. I understand some of the words, it sounded pretty fucking hot. I couldn’t get enough. The first thing he mentions when he gets inside me is how tight I am- I’m not actually into that kind of talk, but it’s flattering none the less. He mentions it several times and I’m concerned he’s going to cum very quickly. The first time wasn’t as fast as it hinted it would be- and that set the tone for the rest of our night. We went all night, burning through 10 condoms. He got off a total of 4 times during the night, and twice more in the morning. I lost count of how many orgasms I had, but he was very proud of himself. He had an obvious preference for missionary position and worked it like a machine, we did end up doing a few positions but that was definitely the best for his style. During one of our breaks he mentions he’s not Hispanic, he’s mixed- Black, Blackfoot, German, and Italian. God damn these Italian stallions! Clark Kent and Spenny were Italian, too! I should turn this into a study…

We fall asleep together and wake up around 10am. He pounces on me for one more romp and it is amazing. My hips are completely fucked after getting plowed all night, but it’s still great. He gets his and we get up to move around. We’re hungry. He tells me he’s surprised he’s not hungover, and I remind him of all the water we were pounding between screwing throughout the night. See, I got this. I make him a full breakfast from scratch- biscuits and sausage gravy, with fried eggs. We snuggle up on the couch to watch some American Horror story and I doze off after maxing out my likes on Tinder for the day. He had mentioned previously that we’re going to find each other on Tinder now that he opened the app in Alaska- and low and behold, there he is! Duh, right swipe. I’d fuck this guy any day. When I wake up from my nap I give him a beej for doing me right all night- his appreciation for my head time is what really drives me to finish him. I take him back to the besties and we all hang out for a bit. The flight leaves in less than 2 hours, it’s time to say goodbyes. He called my phone to make sure I save his number, having had texted him my blog earlier he had my number. We add each other on Facebook to keep in touch. He hugs me, thanks me for a wonderful night, and tells me he had more fun last night than all of his time in Alaska- because he got to meet all of us, go get drunk, dance his ass off, and have great sex all night. I’m definitely looking forward to doing this again in the spring!

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DD Fnord

I left my cheating spouse September of 2015. In October of that year, I filed for divorce and set out to move on and reclaim my lost libido. I spent 8 years of my 20's faithful to two unfaithful men, I have so much time to make up for! All The Dicks is my journey having sex with whoever I want, whenever I want, however I want. The first person I spent the night with after my husband, reignited the spark and desire I thought I would need counseling to retrieve. The second person I was with sealed the deal. I wasn't broken, I just needed a tune up. This collection of encounters are the ones worth re-telling- I don't write about every sexual encounter I have, and I certainly don't bother with any that were sub-par. The screenshots are my own personal wall of shame, but also my trophies because nobody puts baby in a corner.

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