It is absolutely criminal the men I’m fucking. Tonight’s conquest included. What did I do in a past life that was so right I deserved this? I’m sitting here in my underwear, eating Doritos, typing this up with one eye open and drinking champagne through a crazy straw, with my eyemakeup all kinds of fucked off my face. I don’t deserve this life. I’ve done nothing to earn it; I don’t work out, I don’t wear fashionable clothes, and I’m not really overtly feminine. I throw on thick, black, winged eyeliner and call it a day. That’s about it, you’re lucky if I shave anything. Tonight I shaved my chin, the original one, because my 5 o’clock shadow is intimidating to mortal men. I’m a fat girl with sass and a lifestyle that can’t be beat. Tonight’s main course even told me I’d make a great man if I were born that way. I would. I would be a great man if I were a man… shit, I’d be a great woman if I were really all that inclined to be one. What’s equally impressive to the sex I had tonight, was the company I had before we hit the bed. Have I mentioned yet he’s way too pretty to be straight? I’m about 80% sure he gets his eyebrows shaped. He’s got the kind of face I really want to sit on…
We chatted very briefly on Tinder, he was curious about my blog. He mentioned being a pilot, so I assumed commercial or charter. It’s Alaska, that’s not really a leap. I told him my cut off for happy fun time would be around 8pm because I have my day job to go to in the morning SUPER EARLY on Monday. That’s fine, he has to fly out in the morning/ afternoon. We didn’t meet up “for drinks” until about 8:30. God damn it. Off to a bad start, but I’m down to listen to myself talk for an hour while he politely nods and pays my bar tab. Turns out he’s kind of my everything. First and foremost, he’s hot. Like, smoking hot. That’s a good looking man. Second, he’s smart. You have to be to be quick witted, I dig it. He has quips and comebacks for days. Your sarcasm makes me moist. Yes, make me laugh, Funny Man! Third, he seems to really get the lifestyle I’m part of where you just have promiscuous sex and don’t shit on each other for living that way. I’m not here to stroke your ego, or feign interest in your bullshit. I’m here to make a connection, get laid, and hopefully has as many orgasms as humanly possible before we discard each other and forget names. I pick him up from the Marriott downtown and we head to Darwin’s Theory for a nightcap. Like, not going to lie, I wasn’t really expecting to bang him tonight. We talked at length about my screening process for potential lovers, and I said I tag a lot of military which is super convenient for me since I don’t really care to see my partners again and what’s better than that? I had the definite “I should fuck him, he’s perfect” feeling, but I was hesitant after he informed me he’s military, in the Air Force. Fuck. A pilot in the Air Force, that means he’s an officer. Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit. I’m not into officers as a rule. Almost every one of them I’ve talked to has been horrible; entitled, cocky, married, etc., just not my cup of dick. If I’d known he was before the night began, I wouldn’t have bothered. This is called being wrong and I accept that. Maybe I am turning into a jaded twat-waffle… I should work on that. Actually, no. I won’t. From literally every person I know who works with officers directly, and pilots (military or civilian,) the general consensus is the same: avoid, they’re dicks. This one was a dick, but the kind I like: hilarious, self deprecating, intelligent. Gimme. If you can take a joke like I can take a dick, we’re cool.
Bar time was pretty glorious. He guessed I grew up “comfortable” as we call it. Look, slumming with the poors is how I get back at my mother for not hugging me enough as a child. Kidding… but really, by show of hands, who’s really all that surprised I grew up wanting for nothing? Stereotypes exist for a reason, people. We talked about our sexual interest in trannies for a good minute… I can always tell when men are relieved they can talk about that with someone, especially a woman. Yeah, let’s both get aroused- chicks with dicks is my jam, bitch. He has made it abundantly clear he’s enjoying my company, yes keep stroking my ego. Whatever, his game is good and I dig it. I mentioned something about strippers, and he asks if I want to go to a strip club. Then clarifies he meant RIGHT THEN. Uh… yes? I’m already past my bedtime, might as well double down on poor decisions and just pull an all-nighter. He had to stop drinking around midnight to legally fly the plane at noon the next day, but he wanted an adventure. What a noble thing to do. Proof positive I probably would not ever hack it in a position that requires so much responsibility for human life. I ask him if he’s ever partied with scientists before, and I don’t remember the answer but the outcome was we picked up a friend of mine with a STEM field PhD and took her to the strip club with us. One thing I love about this particular man was his interest in going to the “not good” strip clubs. Yeah, yeah, Bush Co. is great. But what about where strippers go to die? That’s the place I want to lose all my money. I am the trash queen and these are my people. We hit up one and it’s not really doing it for us, but we slammed down some shots before we left. Next place we hit it was just right. As we pull in one of the girls yells out, from a window on the building no less, HEY CRAZY LADY! She’s referring to PhD… who may or may not have gotten up on stage last time we were there. Scientist. After we do another round of shots and get seated, we hear the DJ announce my presence to the entire (mostly empty) club and plugged my blog. Uh, who the fuck is that guy!? When he comes around from behind the booth it takes me a second to recognize him but I had met him once in person at Koots a few months back, off of POF. I jump up onto him like a Koala bear. I did this more than once, drunk and clumsy, not graceful in the slightest. Also, situationally unaware of how heavy I am. How’s your back game, bruh?
Drink, drank, drunk. We are toasted and it’s time to go. Broken Arrow (I am acutely aware of how little reference I have for an Air Force pilot to give a good moniker) has to migrate back to his hotel room. Whatever, I know I’m coming with. Funny men will get me every time, I simply cannot resist. I mean, I do openly admit that if you’re on my humor level I just assume you’re pretty decent in bed. So far, haven’t really been proved wrong. Except that one time we don’t mention. PhD had an invitation to join but really this was not the ideal situation; I’d much prefer she and I have our first Smash Bro encounter with someone I’ve taken for a test drive and pre-approved. Broken Arrow has mentioned getting weird and I’m all about that kind of life. You want the whole fist, up to the elbow, or just a finger? Lady’s choice? Brace for impact. Change my name in your phone to DD214, because you’re out when I’m inside you. Throughout the night he’s mentioned he’s happy we met up. He reminds me of this fine-ass combo of Cold War/ Spider Man . I dig it. As we pull up to the Marriot (fuck, why is it always the Marriot…) I mention my undying obsession with Cold War, although I must resist temptation. Specifically, I said he ate my ass like pack of starving Somalians. Broken Arrow takes note I enjoy this greatly. I know what that means. Men that eat ass are my favorite, because I have a lot of ass and it’s tasty. So I hear. He’s mentioned before he really likes anal, so do I mind you, so it’s not really that much of a stretch to guess he’d lick my balloon knot until my legs gave out.
Up to the room he gets naked immediately. He brushes his teeth and gets on the bed. I touch on his body a bit before he reminds me of the penetration he’s supposed to be receiving. You got it, pervert. I mean that in the highest of compliments. ONE OF US, ONE OF US, ONE OF US. Whatever, I fink you freeky and I like you a lot. We need lubrication… I’m also going to gift him the best hand job he’s ever had. Maybe my mouth if he’s vocal and appreciative the way I like. I’m not expecting head at this point. I like to give, just to the right person under the right circumstances. He gets some lotion for me to do my magic trick with my hands. Can you guess the outcome yet? He’s uh… impressed. Hahaha Oh man, I could have done that all night just watching his face and listening to him try to form sentences. He told me to stop smiling so smugly. I can’t. I’m the Cheshire cat of handy-j’s. When I put my mouth on him it was all over. I could have gotten him off very, very quickly. I’d promised myself earlier that the next guy I blew I would start sobbing and begging to see my family… turns out just like promises to my handsy uncle, I couldn’t keep it. He asked if I brought condoms- duh! I literally have them everywhere. As I’m blowing him and touching him on the inside, he asks if we can fuck a little bit. I respond with a question in turn, why would I want to fuck a little bit? He corrects himself, he wants to fuck a LOT. Mmmm much better. I hope he doesn’t bust too quick after all the head and hands time he just had. He tells me he wants to eat my ass. In fact, he mentions it a couple of times. I’m not expecting him to beg for it, but I do like his excited persistence. Yes, want it. I know I want it. He needs a break or he’s going to get off, so I crawl up to him and he kisses me. Tells me I taste like lotion and it’s fucking hot. My turn. He clearly needs somewhere to put that mouth he’s been running all night.
He spreads me open and buries his face in my backside just the way I like. If he’d had hair to grab, I would have been pulling it. I am LOSING MY MIND, he’s really, really, really good at this. Just… ugh. I haven’t had my asshole licked this well since Cold War. Broken Arrow even makes the same noises while he’s pleasing me- pop quiz, did you know moaning while you’re going down on a girl is called Growling at the Badger? I’m melting. I am one with the bed now. He’s enjoying pleasing me, and you can tell he’s super into it. We’ve reached the event horizon, I want that dick and I want it now. He takes me from behind and fucks me hard, telling me how much he loves my big ass. Yeah, get it. Dick game on point. He’s above average, but perfect. I like them this size because I can fuck all night. Being he’s my age, I assume one and done. He’ll cum, that’ll be it. Better get the most out of it, yeah? He flips me over into missionary and plows me like a field bearing gold. He’s going to cum. He wants to cum inside me. I want it. Somewhere in all this I was choking him. I’m not sure when, but he was on top of me. Maybe again when I was on top. I dunno, but I wanted to choke him and I did. After he climaxes and takes a moment, he starts moving again. Oh… oh! Oh he can keep going! YAAAAASSSSS!!! I push him backwards, I want to drive. I mount him and as I start riding he is very clearly enjoying it. I like being on top. He wants to go down on me, with his cum in me. Full stop. YES. How did you know!? HOW COULD YOU POSSIBLY KNOW!? I don’t mention how much I enjoy that to partners, primarily because we’ll be using condoms anyway so it’s not something they need to be in the know of. Add to that the obvious of most men not really being open to it on principle… it doesn’t come up. But yes, if you want to lick your cum out of me and I’ve permitted sex without protection… I’m the last person who’s going to stop you. I love it. I will ride your face in any position. I’m into some kinky things, man.
We slammed uglies 4 times to completion, with him cumming inside me and then going down on me right after. I want it. I love it. He smiles and tells me he knows. He knows I want it. He knows what I like. *Shiver* I say “good boy” when he’s done cleaning me up with his tongue. He wanted anal but that’s not happening without actual lube, no amount of spit or lotion is making that happen for me. The fourth time was more or less rape. He was passing out and I wasn’t really ready to say our forever goodbye yet. So I started blowing him. He even called it rape. Whatever, I suck dick like it’s full of validation from my parents. Enjoy it. He got hard, nice and hard, and gladly fucked me again. Honestly he could’ve faked his orgasms- I dunno, and I don’t care. He went down on me, there was nothing for me to deal with. I did the hoe stroll out of that hotel looking like I got gangbanged at a Halloween party- my makeup and hair were fucking awesome. I’m 100% his crew heard us through the walls (I tried so hard to be quiet! I’m sorry!) but I’m just as sure they’re completely used to this scenario. I bet he lays that phenomenal pipe everywhere they land. I probably need a penicillin shot, but worth it. This is one of those encounters if I’d gotten his number I would have texted him a month from now to tell him he gave me herpes, and when he protested he was clean I’d say “You’re right, I gave them to you.” Boom. Is this why they never come back…? Somebody love me…
God bless the motherfucking Air Force.