Oh thank fucking Christ I got some good dick last night. Jesus this last couple of weeks was rough- nothing but no shows, whiskey dick, quick-shots, and terrible performance. I was losing faith in humanity. I had some interest from a few potentials, and I’m really interested in tagging this MMA fighter, but I ended up going with a “safe bet” and picked up Short Stuff. Normally I do not pick up/ drop off the men folk, as it’s their own god damn responsibility to and from their lay- but I was already nearby and I counted him as a guarantee for a good time provided he wasn’t too wasted to perform. Fingers crossed, he said he was at 80%. That could work in my favor, though- some dudes can go all night with just the right amount of liquor in them. So he says he’s at the Fort Richardson gate- I go get him since I’m already downtown on 15th.
Driving to my place I’m in a great fucking mood. I had, just that night, met a really great man who wanted to get to know me and had read my blog. He was all kinds of hitting my buttons and I really dig him, but that’s a problem. I’m not about catching feels so I politely/ directly deflected taking him home with me and he made friends with my gay besties- he even spent the night at their house, and they had a marvelous breakfast the next day. See why I’m swooning already? Stupid fucking woman-brain. hahaha Ugh he’s such a good kisser, too. Fuck. Not to mention I’m intensely attracted to him- thicker guy, short, bearded, sweet, funny, and came prepared to make me laugh… AND DID I MENTION HE DANCES? Danger, danger- take a step back.
So I pick up Short Stuff and give him the run down while I drive like an idiot all the way to my house across town. He tells me about striking out all night at the bar and it tickles me- such a cute boy, very handsome and charismatic, and it just brings me endless joy that he doesn’t always get what he wants. He’s hobbling around after having just recently been in a car accident, apparently he couldn’t work that magic to get some crippled sex. He tells me he enjoys how much I’m enjoying jamming out to music in my car- what can I say, I’m a passionate car music enthusiast. Does anybody remember Jimmie’s Chicken Shack? Because I’m in the LazyBoy Dash.
So we get to my place and I insist we watch some music videos of Hot Chip since I just recently got into them. So good. Short Stuff sits on my lap and gives me a little wiggle and dance while we jam out to some dance music. His Black side is adorable. These mixed-race boys are just turning my fucking crank lately; can’t believe I waited this long to taste the rainbow. Nobody tell my mother, she’s still alive. After that he insists on seeing what kind of porn I watch, since I have it tabbed in my favorites. This is actually kind of a no-no for me, I’m into a very specific type of porn and I get a little uncomfortable sharing something so private/ intimate with anybody; I didn’t even like my former spouse to watch the videos in my history, which he did just to get under my skin. The porn was unnecessary to be honest, I had every intention of fucking this boy regardless of it- but it did it’s job, I was definitely primed and ready to go. We head to bed.
The sex was so good. Finally this kid shows me what he can do, and he’s working with a handicap. I knew I saw potential in him for greatness, he just needed the direction and space to come around to it. He gets me off bunches and we take a break after he finishes. I really enjoy talking to this little asshole- he shoots straight without being rude. This is something I can appreciate. We compare notes on how sex with people less attractive generally ends up being better (we both know which one of us is the step down, and I’m not offended by it- because I’m a great lay to compensate.) He tells me about how when he was a wrestler in high school he had a reputation for banging ugly/fat girls- because, from his perspective, it was just a better time to have. The skinny-minnies, though hot as balls, couldn’t appreciate a good dicking, just laid there, or were too bony to really slam it home. Sounds super fun, right? I’m not gonna lie- through this journey I’ve definitely discovered the hotter the man, the less fun the sex is. That’s not to say I’m not attracted to the guys who gave it to me all night just the way I like it- oh no, I don’t fuck ugly dudes. Or as I like to say, I no longer fuck personalities (which is a total lie, I still have to be somewhat attracted to them on a personal level outside of the physical.) But as a rule at this point it appears the super cut hardbodies are just for show. That’s cool, bro- I’ll still tell them they’re pretty.
At this time in our ongoing FWB situation, which I guess is not his normal MO (he sticks to one-nighters,) I have not graced him with my head game. This night however I feel like it would be a fun thing for him to experience, since he gave it to me how I like it and I’m a reciprocal pleaser for my partners. We’re talking a bit and I ask him if he wants a blowie, he says sure but he won’t get off- thank god, I’m not looking to take a shot in the mouth I just want to blow his mind and get it up for round 2. So I go to town, I’m not really giving it my all but he seems impressed none-the-less. Here’s the deal, I love pleasing my partner and I know what I’m good at. I just don’t feel obligated to do this for hookups because frankly they probably won’t give me what I deserve in return. He’s pulling my hair, his legs are contracting, his breathing is changing. He’s almost silent, which is a huge turn off but I understand not all men are vocal partners. He tells me he “fired a blank” so I feel like my job is done here and we throw another condom on for round 2.
After sexy time we go back to talking. At some point during the night he hits me with a proposition to not use protection- with the understanding we would only not use condoms together. Nigga, please. Birth control or not, I’m not really interested. We’re both promiscuous, and we’ve both made bad choices previously regarding safe sex. It’s best we don’t endanger each other- plus, my hormone based birth control could fail and that’s just a whole lot of bullshit neither of us wants to deal with. He brags he has super swimmers and his ex-wife got pregnant on birth control. Oh yeah, I forgot he’s got a baby back home. It’s so weird considering his age… babies having babies. We get some laughs at abortion jokes, which makes me happy. Nothing sets the mood for another blow job like saying “I’ve been scraped more times than a Fisherman’s knuckle.” That’s fucking funny and don’t you deny it. So I give him some more head and he’s getting vocal this time. Oh yes, baby. Mumble my praises under your breath. Let me hear you exasperatedly swear and curse. This is my jam. Light bulb comes on, I’ve got another trick up my sleeve I want to show him. I put the head game on pause, get some lube in my hands and give him my bell-ringer double handed HJ. He gasped that nothing that feels this good can be natural. I know, lover. You’re welcome. He cums a second time, much to his surprise, and about as quickly as I guessed it would take with my skill level. The look on his face laying there in complete bliss and shock and awe. Yeah, kid- old bitch got tricks for days. He sings my praises for excellent oral and hand skills, putting me in his top orgasm count. Whether or not that’s a sincere thing, it still made me feel pretty god damn good. I like to be memorable. I do all the things and I love, love, love getting my partner to a new level of nirvana.
6:30am rolls around and Short Stuff needs to go sleep off his whiskey hangover, because taking shit loads of shots always works out well. He’s making it clear he wants me to drive him, but he hasn’t directly asked me yet. I ain’t your girlfriend, either ask the question or go on talking to yourself about how nobody is awake to taxi you around. Speaking of taxi, it’s apparently too expensive to get one from my house to the base. Mmmhmmmm. Whatever, I wait for him to get the balls to just ask the question. He does, I agree (because I’m not actually a bitch I just like to make people uncomfortable.) We’re on the road and he mentions he wants to change his name on the blog- which is not an option, I asked him previously what he’d want to be called and he couldn’t give me an answer. Now you’re stuck with it. On the way to the Richardson entrance to JBER my favorite guilty pleasure southern rap-rock group comes on my music shuffle. This fool knows who they are!? I mean I shouldn’t be too surprised, he’s from the souf. But for a solid 10 minutes after I dropped him off I just jammed the fuck out to Villebillies completely satisfied he actually listens to decent music. Good kid. Hope you get that promotion next month, Short Stuff!