I needed a win and I got it. This one is PERF. Young, hot, funny… take me to pound town. I’m still struggling with writer’s block at this point, but I’m gonna try to push through it. I actually matched him on Tinder without knowing he was military, and of course he’s Air Force- I could tell what branch right away, because he talked to me like I’m a person instead of just demanding a pity blowie. Have I told you about my game on Tinder called “spot the Soldier?” It’s literally just waiting for an attractive man to send me a first message that’s nothing but an invitation to suck his presumably average and altogether not-special weenus. I assume that’s how they talk to each other in the barracks so I shouldn’t hold it against ’em. (And to think everybody calls the Air Force gay…) It’s only gay if you swallow, right boys? HOWEVER it’s not gay if you beat them up afterward. You’re welcome. (PS, I thought it was fun to tell Soldiers I prefer Airmen… but I’m pretty sure I witnessed a Marine on Skype have a stroke when I said it.)
Flirty flirty time was pretty direct. He’s feelin’ my corset pictures. He seemed a bit unsure of himself at first, not wanting to misstep and lose a chance at meeting. Spoiler, I was all in by his second message. Funny gets me every time, and I’ve said it a million times: funny people fuck better. Things I instantly swipe right: funny, rock climbing, wrestling, MMA/fighting, hockey, drums. I end up sending him the link to my blog, he’s digging it. My screenshot series is my wingman. Numbers exchanged and texting begins. He confesses he limited his reading to just my tranny entry, which is an interesting choice wouldn’t you say? Almost like… he was drawn to it… because he’s a tranny chaser. I KNOW MY PEOPLE. I tell him no, no- read Clark Kent, and O Captain! They’re my favorites at this time. Clark Kent because it’s the beginning of the journey, my catalyst. O Captain because I just think it’s exceptionally funny and I’m immensely proud of it (and that guy is still smokin’ hot, following me on Snap Chat, and sexting. Win.) He gets a laugh that they’re both Air Force, then mentions he wonders if he knows Clark Kent. I mean, probably… pretty sure they work together… OH, WAIT, BACK UP FOR A SECOND. Clark Kent messaged me a few days ago to tell me he attempted to get a hold of me… to uh, revisit that one time he fucked my brains out for a few hours. It’s been over a year since that night, and I still dream about fuckin’ that kid like once a week. Needless to say I was more than a little frustrated that we had a missed connection over the weekend. Maybe I punched a wall, maybe I punched the clown. Mind ya business. I saw him scamper off with a very lucky girl at Spectrum Music Festival this summer after some flirty dancing and I just wanted to high five her so hard for that score. Lucky bitch, you’re too young to fully appreciate how good you got it. When you’re 30+ and jaded from terrible lays, you’ll remember that little nerdy dude that railed your brains out for god knows how long. Good for her, ya know? Just thinking about him fucking her properly has my downstairs flooded so I’m gonna go take care of that real quick.
So anyway, new boytoy asks if I’d be interested in watching a cheesy horror movie with him sometime, while gettin’ drunk, and then fuckin’. I want to scream YES, DADDY! but I keep my composure. It’s a bit of a red flag to mention intoxicated sex as the first encounter… like, for safety reasons, I’d much prefer to have my faculties about me. Plus that whole consent thing. He’s not pushy at all, maintained my boundaries, and he approached meeting for casual sex with the kind of tact I so appreciate. Yes, there’s ways to get to it without being a jerk. He wants to play Halo with me and it was audible when my panties hit the floor. God damn I just really like having someone to game with for a bit! He gets the invite, we make the plans. I ask if he’d be interested in cinching me into a corset while he’s here- of course he is. Goodboy. True story, I’m already sizing out of my corsets as I continue my weight loss journey to lose my hogbody. It’s a shame, because I literally just bought them, but it’s also a joy. They cinch tightly still, just not tight enough to bruise my ribs and make me faint. BOO. Upon arrival I strip down and give him a shoddy rundown of how to cinch me into a pinstripe underbust I’ve only ever worn once. He puts me into it and it fits just tightly enough to be comfortable for all day/ all night wear while still providing an hourglass shape. I could sleep in it, go to work in it, etc. NICE. I love how it feels and looks, I feel like a boss ass bitch. To finish off the outfit I put on my favorite asymmetrical layered skirt, and cover my bra with a knit shrug I tie in the middle. Why wear a shirt? I have +10 Boobs of Distraction, game on.
We post up on my super lumpy awful couch and start the gaming sesh. Mostly, we’re shit talking and getting blown up a bunch. I’m resisting the urge to throw my leg over him and straddle him with my tittays all up in his face. I actually want play for a bit before WE play. Man, he’s fun. We’re chatting, flirting, etc. He’s from the south with a slight accent he refuses to believe is noticeable. Mentions he’s an NCO- well that’s neat. I like how he talks, he’s welcome to come die 1,000 times with me on a Halo map any time. We ended up stuck in one part for too long, because I started drankin’ and he joined me. There goes any shot we had at beating a level tonight, hahaha. I have an adult sippy cup of orange juice flavored tequila we’re polishing off. He pulls up my Netflix account and we hit up the horror section. Bad Milo? Yeah, why not- I love this movie. We both know we’re not going to finish the movie anyway, might as well get a quarter of the way into a movie about a colon demon. As expected, things started heating up on the couch. I deserve a fucking medal for the amount of restraint I exercised with keeping my hands to myself as long as I did, thank you.
We hit the bed shortly after we started getting frisky, because FUCK YO COUCH. Technically I had him do pull-ups for me first. No shame in my game, if you’ve got a body-ody-ody you’re going to show it off for me. So we’re making out and I tell him I want to cum in his mouth. What? I’m direct. Also, this is my favorite way to say EAT MY BOX RIGHT MEOW. Take me out of my corset so I can be more flexible and move around, I have such sights to show you. Oh… oh lord. YES. Suck my clit ring and hold my thighs. Please and thank you, may I have another? That went very well indeed. I want this young hard body all up in me. BUT FIRST, I want to gift him my glorious mouth for all that work he just did. Lube up my hands and begin my double stroke, he’s a fan- add my mouth, it’s all over. I have a certain set of skills! Condom on, lets do this. You know why I love an average sized cock? Because you can beat me to death with it all night. Slam dance with my pelvis, try not to cum too fast. He came too fast. hahaha It was so good but damn, I’m not done!!! I had him makeout with me while I masturbated with Pusseidon. Then I fucked him again. Then I masturbated again while we made out. Then he needed to leave because he has a life outside of my insatiable search for more orgasms. FINE. I literally had phone sex with two different people within 30 minutes, and got off loud and proud with both. I was damn near falling asleep with the second one, though- my body was tapping out after getting off so thoroughly. NAP TIME, BITCH. Two things knock me out: orgasms, and alcohol. Only one of them gives me a hangover, and that’s why I’m not an alcoholic but I am a succubus. If you get too close to me while my vagina is ravenous, I’ll trapdoor spider you wtih my limbs and pull you into the gravitational pull of my big comfy bed made of space marshmallows. Maybe I’m Calypso and my bedroom is really Ogygia. YOU CAN’T LEAVE.
Before Mad Fun left, we agreed to see each other again. I will steal your life force, kid. Don’t tempt me. That’s how I’m going to stay youthful forever: on the dicks of young beautiful men. Like a slutty version of Elizabeth Bathory. I’m not bathing in bodily fluids though, except maybe sweat. To my bad hookups: I’d like you more if your insides were on the outside. *Wink.*