Physicist, a Firefighter, and a kinky Boy Scout. 3 stories, I’m behind.

Physicist and I have hooked up before; he gives PHENOMENAL head, he’s a feminist, and a genuine joy to spend time with. We’ve hung out at the gay bar and with friends, and gotten completely trashed together. He’s a treat! Not living in Anchorage, he comes here for work or family things. The text message asked if I wanted to hang out, or hook up, or a variation of both. I want to hookup. There will be no head for me this night though, the red headed demon has shown himself from my uterus again. This motherfucker is so unpredictable now that I have the IUD and it’s working it’s magic. Soon there won’t be any periods at all, let alone a shitty one that can’t keep a routine. Anyway, he heads over before me and I meet him at my house. I need a shower. I need like 3 showers. I ask him if he’d like to join me in the shower and he does, but first I make margaritas… because drinking in the shower is kind of the greatest white trash discovery of our lifetime. He is hesitant of this plan, but goes along for the ride. More people need to just go with my lead when I say TRUST ME. I mean, what’s the worst that can happen? A woman once told me that “what’s the worst that could happen” should be my epitaph. So we’re drinking and soaping and laughing- shower time is amazing. He’s not a heavy drinker so his buzz comes on quick. I put the FUN in functional alcoholism, so I’m cruising right along. Let’s hang out! I throw on my Star Trek captain’s robe and we hang out for a bit. I end up making a batch of hummus because we couldn’t shut up about how much we love it as a food. He is impressed, I make the most bomb-diggity hummus there ever was. Snacky time was great, now fuck me.

He got me off with his hand first, taking time to note I’d gotten my nipples and my genitals pierced since our last sexual encounter (damn, I had my nipps done on Valentine’s Day, and my hood done on Steak & BJ Day a month later- I didn’t think it had been so long since we’d banged.) He likes my jewelry. I gift him my glorious hands and mouth, because I’m a big fan of reciprocation. I remember the 45 minute head from last time, you can have all the hand jobs. The sounds. The sounds that man made while I was pleasing him… you can pay me in those sounds. Sex was good like last time, he has a very loud, vocal orgasm. I’m kind of digging it… I love a vocal partner more than anything in the world, and a climax should be punctuated with an equally climactic sound. At least I think so. I can’t stand men that are completely silent. He spent the night, leaving in the morning quietly but not before letting me know he was taking off. I may or may not have trap door spider’d him. If you venture too close to me when I’m snuggly in my extra cushy bed, I will entrap you with my arms and legs and pull you into a struggle cuddle. You don’t even know you’re trapped until you try to get up. I remind him to take some hummus home with him, he gives me a kiss, and out the door. Later he texts me to thank me for the hummus, tell me I’m a great lay, and ask about meeting my other physicist friends- if they weren’t on the Kenai this weekend, it would have worked out. Damn. Next time!

#2 The Firefighter… recently we had a forest fire that required the additional aid from outside help; the firefighters that came up here had their “incident camp” at a nearby school on my side of town. Also, I matched with about 5 of them on Tinder. Heyooooo! He’s 22, attractive, and a musician. A drummer? Oh… oh yes. That’s my favorite. Girls chase singers and front men, I’m watching the guy on the drum kit and noting his stamina. Drummers are athletes. He tells me he’s also hung. Well, now we have a problem don’t we? I’m not a size queen, and I also know men who brag about their dick right off the bat are generally not the greatest lovers. Add to that he has a great body, a panty-dropper job, and he’s a in a band…. my spidey sense is tingling that he’s a cocky little shit that doesn’t know how to please a woman, and doesn’t care to. God damn it. It’s already super late and I have to get up at some heinous hour for overtime. He’s not taking no for an answer. I am becoming irritated, but why not. I haven’t had a firefighter. What’s the worst that can happen? I go to pick him up after he spent a solid hour working on me to get him. Persistence like this is also a bad a sign, but no worries. I have a plan. Tonight might be a life lesson for Mr. Big Dick. The night before had been my night of giving for Abercrombie so my generosity was maxed out; I want mine, or you’re gonna learn to behave.

On the bed I get on top. I want to appreciate his body, but he’s in a hurry. Nope. Don’t you fuckin’ rush me, boy. He makes the grievous error of pushing my head down to his cock, more than once. STOP. No. He repeats “suck my dick” and I respond in kind with “suck mine.” I won’t be fucking or sucking him tonight, but I already figured that would be the case. I give him my handy-j that makes him bust faster than he was expecting- this is intentional. It’s humbling. He apologizes profusely. We go over my blog and lifestyle, I bemoan my bad lovers who are too selfish to bother with. My favorite is when he confesses to me he gets nervous and tries to rush through it and get his. Shocker. He also made mention he should feel uncomfortable in this scenario, but he was completely at ease talking to me. I am most pleased when, after reading a bit of my blog, he says he wants to be better at sex. I’m glad I was able to make him comfortable enough to be receptive. Pleasing your partner should be an important part of it, otherwise just fuck your hand. In the end, no sex was had at all. I drive him back to the man camp dotted with tents, he hugs me, tells me thank you, and he supports my blog and my lifestyle 100%. Life lesson: women are people too, and we want our motherfucking orgasms. I enjoy sex just as much as a man does, my enjoyment should be taken into consideration.

#3 I use Plenty of Fish (POF) a little bit, but mostly I stick to Tinder because it’s just more direct and I don’t get overwhelmed with messages from people I’m not interested in. On occasion though, POF really works out. This boy messages me. Review of his profile, he sounds fun on a personal level. That’s excellent, I’m a fan of men who show their personality in their profile instead of just “ask me” or some variation of “I do outdoor stuff but also like to be cozy inside.” Yeah yeah. This one though, he had personality. That takes a certain level of confidence to put yourself out there. Our casual chit chat segues to him admitting he has a speech impediment (I list it as one of my interests on all my apps,) and also a uniform. The former is more important than the latter, to be honest. He has a stutter. Oh… neat. I haven’t had a stutterer before. I’m still working on the linguist… beautiful, fluent Russian, stutters in English especially when he drinks. SWOON, MOTHERFUCKER! Back to this one. I ask what uniform he’s rocking, he tells me Air Force. Sold, tag it bag it, here’s my address. We’re going to drink beers up on my roof, like adults. He comes over in full uniform (you can hear me heavy breathing just thinking about it,) I instantly regret not going to the air show this weekend. I avoid the crowds, also being visibly aroused in public isn’t a kink of mine. Something something, blue angels. Whatever, I knew not to go when Tinder was suddenly full of pilots again. Let me take this opportunity to remind you once again, in this city we have a joint base. Tinder is about 80-90% military. You poor unfortunate souls… Oh, speaking of that song, I traded a masturbation video on Snap Chat with the soldier I banged a while ago that has Rhotocism. What did I trade him for? A video of him saying R words, because Rhotocism is my favorite speech impediment and they say their R’s like W’s. He said “Roger rabbit runs around the world” three times. Sploosh. I really am Ursula the sea witch. It won’t cost much, just ya voice! I’ll see myself out now, Disney is way too involved in my sex life.

So Mr. Cammie pants comes over and we get on the roof. It’s relaxing, he’s very fun to talk to. I’m enjoying cracking jokes and making him laugh- also, his stutter is doing weird things for me. We get off the roof (it’s difficult for me…) and chill out on the porch drinking in the sun, but not before he mentions having brought a very interesting toy with him in case our encounter led to anything today. It’s a cock sheath from http://www.bad-dragon.com and it’s called the Werewolf. Why the werewolf? Because it’s somewhat inspired from a dog’s penis in that it has the bulging base, referred to as “the knot.” It’s very stretchy, and I’m genuinely impressed he owns such a weird thing, although he claims to have not used it with a woman yet. I’m also impressed he has the forethought to buy himself something like this to compensate for what he may be lacking in the dick department; a good lover see’s their shortcomings as an opportunity to make an improvement. I love bad-dragon, I’ve been meaning to buy weird sex toys from them since forever. He mentions his only real kink is FemDom. Oh? You don’t say? I felt my nipples get hard instantly. I sit sidesaddle on his lap and play with his hair, tell me more about how you want in a FemDom. His particular interest meshes well with how I like to be in charge. We are compatible. He wants tied down, I’ve got rope and I’m learning knots. He tells me he used to be a boy scout. Now, I don’t know if all boy scouts are gay- but they can tie the knot in about 50 different ways. (Thank you Bo Burnham, you’re my favorite.) But do you still have the uniform? He does. Can you still get in it…? He thinks so. Oh, dear boy. You are red, white, and fucked. I straddle him, I can feel he’s hard. I hear a wolf whistle from a neighbor- we’re still on my porch. Whatever, I’m training them not to look over here. He’s holding back, unsure of how he should be touching me right now. Good boy. I take him inside, I want to gift him my hands.

I push him back on the bed, undo his pants, and pull them down. He’s not lacking in the dick department. His toy is even more curious to me now; you’re not small! Why augment your size if you don’t need to? Interesting. I have a pretty good idea what kind of lover he is, and count me in. I whisper to him I like to be called Mistress, and I like being told yes ma’am. “Yes, ma’am.” Good boy. Lube in my hands, I show him my double stroke. The reaction is priceless. I’m going to edge the fuck out of this boy. His hands alternate from gripping the bed, clutching his belt (white knuckles,) and pulling my bedding around his face. His breathing tells me what I need to know, but he also keyed me in with direction when he needed a firmer grip, faster, don’t stop, etc. Good boy. My lady friend QuarterRican shows up, walks in, and notes that she’s not even surprised I’m jerking off a young man in full uniform on my bed while she and I have a casual conversation. He’s not allowed to talk, I’m still working on him while we catch up. We make plans to hookup with each other, to feel each other out, so we can start tagging men together. I think our first threesome should be with Iron Giant. She’s known me 10 years and tells me “don’t ever change.” I won’t. He starts arching his back, tiny moans escape when I switch technique. She’s putting on her face but can’t help to stare. I’m good at what I do, and it looks like fun, especially when he calls me ma’am. She walks over and slaps him. He takes it. I swear that’s the moment you can see the lightbulb turn on in her face. Being in charge has it’s own set of rewards. Yes, come to the dark side with me, she asks to be my apprentice and learn my tricks. Own all the boys, lets do the damn thing. It’s time to mention how long this boy held on while I edged him, and then worked on finishing him. We must have been doing that for 45min – an hour.I have never had a man last that long with my hands. EVER. I can only imagine how he fucks. He finishes and makes a gigantic mess. I’m not into cum shots, and even I was impressed with that. I clean him up and insist he stay on his back while I rub his belly. I’m not done enjoying him, she and I are talking. Finally it’s time for us to part ways. Goodbye, for now. You’ll be back. Let’s get fuckin’ weird.

(A boy scout uniform… who has been listening to my thoughts and dreams!?)

God bless the motherfucking Air Force.

Published by:

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.

Categories Sex