***This time I mean it, this is my last entry for the blog. Its served its purpose dutifully and I’m ready to move on. It started out as my way of cataloging my journey of GREAT sexual encounters while I worked on recovering from a terrible marriage that ended abruptly. Now I’m dating someone, a healthy someone, and actually fully-functional as an adult again. I don’t mourn the loss of my marriage anymore, and I’ve healed to the point I have nothing but hope and love for the future. I get to re-read my blog entries, touch myself, giggle, and relive the good times that got me through the dark times. Thank you for everything, boys! I’ve learned so much! Also, I’m much too busy living life to put the hours and effort into writing this thing anymore; the sex I’m having is only getting better and better now that I’ve honed my skills at screening lovers before bedding them. I’m much more actively involved in sex clubs and exploring fetishes (I nearly bagged a hot paraplegic while on vacay- I wanted to be the Lex Luthor to his accurate Superman since I was bald as a motherfucker that entire trip.) I have the life I wanted again; filled with adventures, pushing myself and my limits, focusing on self improvement and experiences. I might be broke as hell but I’ll never be poor; my life is rich.***
Fort Bragg, a tale of two soldiers. Not at the same time, don’t get excited. Yeah, I’m disappointed too. Sigh. That two-man threesome will happen someday. No rush though; when you know exactly what you want it’s worth it to just be patient. Patience is not my strong suit, but I’m maturing in my old age. I turned 32 in September and I’m definitely the Blanche in my AARP group. I always go in early for the blue plate special at the STD clinic. Boyfriend and I took that month long vacation we planned- he got called away to TDY in the middle of it after we’d already bought our flights, so I finished out the last leg of adventures solo. Two and a half weeks in the Orlando, Florida area was INSANE- I rejoined my manatee herd, went night kayaking over bioluminescent plankton, roller coasters, met his whole family and tricked them into liking me, he got his dick pierced on my birthday as a gift, fought some swans, someone gifted me a hit and a half of LSD when we took him to the movie IT with us, found big conch shells on Daytona beach, drove the fucked up interstate highway everyday just to shave years off our life for fun… then he flew to Texas, so I drove to Savannah, GA to see one of my gay besties. I math’d wrong and turned an 8 hour drive into a 10.5 hour drive, because I figured Savannah was “on the way” to Southern Pines, North Carolina. Shut up. There’s one fuckin’ highway in Alaska and you go north or south, anything between you and your destination is “on the way.”
I drove through the night and got to NC just in time to take my friend to her very last chemo appointment in her breast cancer battle. She finished the treatment, we went home and took a very long nap together in bed. Breastfriends. Now that she’s done stealing the spotlight and faking cancer for attention, I can finally grow my hair back out and end my virtue signaling for pity sex campaign. Here is where I’d like to mention how COMPLETELY INSATIABLY HORNY I’d gotten in those weeks in Florida. We’d only managed to have very quiet sex a handful of times while in Florida together, as we were staying with his entire family. No nookie-nookie for me, at least… not the way I like it. I tried arranging us some fun while we were there, but all the good ones I liked couldn’t host us/me so it was moot. The ones who could host inevitably came across too aggressively, too pushy, or threw red flags up. I ended up begging boyfriend to buy me a vibrator from a sex shop so I could masturbate in the car a few times a day and relieve some of the pressure. I lasted approximately 2 weeks without a vibrator. I can go months without sex with less panic and attitude.
So, once PolterTits started to recover from her last dose of chemo, I decided to check out a sex club in nearby Fayettenam- called You Know Where or YKW for short. It looked perfect for my interests- lots of sex, lots of space, lots of freedom. I was confident I’d feel safe and at-home in this environment, surrounded by like-minded weirdos and a metric shit tonne of fuckboys. Fellas, I can spot you a mile away and I’m teaching other women how to as well. Your days are numbered. So, now I need a date. See, I also know better than to walk into a sex club as a moderately attractive woman ALONE- not for risk of my safety or any such nonsense. No no, I just don’t have the benefit of being able to block or unmatch every unsuitable man who approaches me poorly. Show up with a date, even if he’s your pet. It’s just easier. I invited roughly 100 men on Tinder to join me at the sex club, even offering to pay the entry in as it required a membership as well as an additional charge just to attend the play party. I don’t like men paying my way on dates, it sets up the wrong dynamic; I prefer to maintain autonomy of my date- if I pay for our adventure I don’t feel obligated to tolerate any bullshit, and he is less inclined to bother me for affection or attention if I lose interest. He’s not out anything, there’s no sunk-cost fallacy. Of the 100+ I invited to the date, only a handful seemed interested… many waffled on the invite, but later offered to pick me up afterward to satiate me, or play with me beforehand. Can it, fucko. Two actually showed up! One a tall, shy, mostly reserved man who I could tell was so far out of his element we were not going to have much to go on for chemistry. The other was a short, interesting, genderqueer (but still in the closet for work) soldier. Our chemistry was nearly instant, online and in person. I wanted him. I’m wary of soldiers though- I used to fuck soldiers, but I prefer to have orgasms so I fuck airmen now… even if they have to pretend I’m a man the whole time, that’s much easier with my head shaved anyway.
The sex club was fantastic. I was a hit in my form-fitting rainbow jellyfish dress. I can say with absolute certainty if I lived within an hour of that place I’d be there every weekend. Fun music, hot scenes, men tripping over their dicks to huff my farts. A dream come true. Cinch me into a corset and strap a dick on me, I’m ready. Once the taller, more reserved man fucked off on his own (lack of attention on my part, talking to him was like pulling teeth,) my soldier boy and I started getting handsy. I want him all over me. I assumed he lived at the barracks so that was a NO-GO. The club was only open for another hour, and the DJ who was heavily attempting to get in on this Kool-Aid was actually arguing against my wishes to leave- saying, and I quote, it could be an hour of heaven. Yeah… no. An hour is, at best, a quickie. Not for full on penetration, but all the stuff that makes an encounter WORTH having. I’m not lacking in invites to sit on dicks, buddy. Also, I give zero shits about you watching us. Like every man before you that whines about their hard-on and thinks it’s somehow my problem…. it is not. I asked my date if he knew, roughly, how much a hotel in this area would cost so I could book it. He offered to take me home to his place instead, as he lives alone. Not alone like a single room in the barracks… right? OH SHIT HE HAS HIS OWN APARTMENT, TAKE ME HOME!
He’s still married but they are very much no longer together, that’s how he has an apartment. Similar to how my boyfriend had his own house on base. Cool beans, sorry ’bout your wife, let’s get naked. He puts on his steampunk man-corset for me. It’s lovely. He’s so many shades of my type I can hardly contain my excitement- I also have a huge boner for medics, not just mechanics. Now I need him to let me out of my corset- break this can of biscuits wide open, baby. I took a shower to get cleaned up first, I’m sweaty and there’s probably still lube in my meat-cabbage from masturbating earlier. I showed him my Crow impression- it’s where I rub my eyes with water so they turn black from makeup and it runs down my cheeks. BUILDINGS BURN, PEOPLE DIE, BUT REAL LOVE IS FOREVER. He still finds me charming, good sign. If you stick it out through my autism you’re either very patient for mediocre sex, or we might actually have good chemistry. We makeout for a bit, he uses his fingers to make me climax more than once. Oh… you dear, sweet boy. Let me show you somethin’. You can cum more than once, right? Good.
Flat on his back I strip him, put lube in my hands, and ask him if he’s ready. Ready for what? Hold on. I wonder if he saw my delighted smirk when I pulled his thick cock out, because I was absolutely GIDDY at my luck. He’s curved upward towards his body, above average length, and perfect girth. I might’ve salivated. He has the ideal equipment for my downstairs mix-up. Using my two-handed slippery stroke I bring him to climax very quickly- so quickly in fact he nervously barked “stop, stop,” in an attempt to keep from busting… but I enjoy establishing my dominance with skill level. He came within seconds of his verbal cease-fire. THERE’S NO TIME. Also, I wasn’t going to stop. Making a man cum too fast with my hands is turning into a must-have for any date. I enjoy the sheepish apology afterward, like I didn’t do it intentionally. It’s surprising how sexually accomplished and talented I am despite being so unattractive- I’m like Mariah Drew Carey. Now snuggle me while you enjoy your afterglow a bit. I tell him I want his mouth on me and he instantly pounces into action. Full service, he nibbles my thighs and kisses around my slit before plunging face-first into making me sing whale-songs to his neighbors through the walls. After he’s given me everything I want several times over, I tell him I want him to fuck me. Rolls the condom on and pushes himself inside me within moments. That curve. That wonderful, delightful, perfect curve! Yessssss, rub that cluster of nerves behind my clitoris like a genie lamp. Now it’s my turn to cum embarrassingly fast! Wham-bam-THAAAANK YOOOOOU! He feels my muscles tighten around him with every O, slowing his pace to match my contraction intensity. At one point he put my foot in his mouth and I had to literally muffle my screams or risk the cops get called to check on a murder in progress. Suck my toes while you pound my pussy, I will lose my god damn mind. Your neighbors will hate you.
We burned through 9 condoms that night. All of the ones I had, and a couple of his. Always have a dozen condoms on you, kids. One or two is never enough. I couldn’t get enough of his perfectly curved, thick cock. Every position, holding himself back from cumming as best he could when I’d push back onto him or pull him in deeper. He got 3 orgasms; I drained him of every drop, as well as his energy. He’s a quiet lover, barely making a sound when he came the third time- while hitting it from the back. My body was sore but I felt invigorated. Taking younger male lovers has done wonders for keeping me young. A succubus forever. Amidst our break-time in-between slapping skin he confesses to me I am his 4th partner, ever. I’m honored, I’m my boyfriend’s 5th. (I’ve developed a firm theory many men learn to be good lovers by having a long-term partner/ keeping their numbers low, whereas I think women develop their sexual skills by having more partners.) There were so many similarities between him and my boyfriend it became a bit of an eerie coincidence to have met him at all- I ended up fucking my man’s parallel universe Army doppelgänger. I tell him the secret that the guys he works with that nail a new piece of ass, or two, every weekend are terrible fucks and those girls never call him back for round two. When it’s good, we come back- you wouldn’t waste your time chasing tail if you had it beating down your door. I tried to see him again but it wasn’t meant to be; days later he said he was still in recovery from a night with me. I’ll rock you to your foundation if you’re a good boy. He was a very, very good boy. 10/10 would fuck again. Thanks, Doc.
Well fuck, now what? I have days, literal days, left of this vacation sitting damn near smack dab on Ft. Bragg and time is running out. The night with the medic went so well I figured I’d try to replicate the experience as best as possible- this time instead of inviting them out to a sex club, I invited all my suitors out to play an escape room with me- my treat! I must have invited over 50 potentials before I had two confirm their interest. One a soldier (did not have high hopes here,) and the other was utterly forgettable though polite. I met the soldier first and we didn’t beat our room, but the chemistry was there for sure. There’s no denying it when it’s instant. I took one look at him and wanted his tongue between my thighs. We got ice cream after our room and killed time before I was scheduled to meet the other one. I liked him even more when we bonded over both of us having lost over 60lbs each, complete with show-and-tell exchanging pics of our former fat selves. Fuck it, join me for the next room? He’s in. We meet our third-wheel and he was not feelin’ it while we were playing. Didn’t beat that room either but it was a fun date; wholesome fun that translates to how well you can communicate with your partner while maintaining a sense of humor under pressure. All key components to a mutually beneficial sexual experience later, if you ask me. We walked around for a bit, the three of us, before I settled on sitting on a picnic table. Fuck the heat, it’s oppressive. Our third-wheel hung on for an hour or so before accepting the two of us were tuned in to each other. I caught a toad while the sun started to dip, we video-chatted my boyfriend a bit for reasons I’ve forgotten. I hand him a peppermint, and eat one as well. My hint is subtle but not, I want to suck face with you. When we finish our candy our mouths meet, and I can barely keep myself from mounting him on the table.
This one does live in the barracks so that’s an obvious NOPE. I tell him about my apprehension with banging soldiers since they’re so terrible they’ll even invite a girl to fuck several of them in a row just to get a single orgasm- he tells me that’s no surprise, soldiers work better in numbers. I died laughing. Working out the logistics of a hookup in a foreign place, while painfully aroused, is hard. We took a short intermission when a sugar ant crawled into my ear and my lovely date used his phone as a flash light- he said he saw nothing. I could feel/hear it in there. I got it out with a q-tip from my purse, promptly had a meltdown, and then we laughed. What can I say, my foreplay is weird. He about fell off the picnic table laughing. I’m never coming back to this shit hole. hahaha Outside sex, a bad idea to begin with, was most definitely no longer an option. I settled on paying for a hotel- they’re cheap in the area, he seemed like he’d be a good boy and bed me right. Oh, that’s a new thing! I’ve actually never rented a hotel room for sex before! I told him he had to call me Money Bags all night. The drive to the hotel we picked up condoms and some essentials. Once at the traphouse we shower together, then I kick him out so I can shave all the puberty off my body.
I decide at this point I’m going to get into a corset and one of my skin tight dresses that show my curves in all their glory; off the shoulder, no cleavage, long sleeved. You can see my pulse, though. He’s still naked. I’m going to gift him my slippery two-handed HJ. His manhood is larger than the last, and curved down this time! What a treat! When they curve down it gives you the sensation of fullness, because it puts more pressure on the bottom wall. He’s going to feel enormous, and he’s already above average. I’m sure my eyes lit up like Christmas lights. I put lube in my hands and ask him if he’s ready. He has no idea what he’s in for, I love this part. I have a special set of skills… 😉 Once I start working on him I immediately get to enjoy the show; he’s white knuckle grasping the bedding, unable to breathe or speak, arching his back very slightly, and his eyes are clamped shut. His body twisting and writhing, he held out longer than most. I stop what I’m doing a few minutes in and tell him “they’re never going to believe you.” He laughs and agrees, hush though- I’m not interested in you speaking yet. I finally felt inclined to add my mouth to finish him off since he wasn’t going to cum quickly. I tell him I don’t normally do this because I feel you have to earn my mouth, but I’m comfortably confident he’s going to be a good boy when it’s my turn and take care of my needs thoroughly. He excitedly agrees, of course he’s going to please me. Good boy.
I work my hands in tandem with my mouth, stroke and suck, grip and slip. He did not hang on very long for this, and came unexpectedly in my mouth without warning. I mean, he tried to say something right as his orgasm made his cock throb… but it just sounded like he had the wind knocked out of him. I am not a fan of cum in my mouth, but I’m willing to take one for the team under the agreement they’ll make it worth my while. Spit, rinse, gag, rinse again. I get into bed with him and snuggle up. I want him to take a few minutes to relax and enjoy that orgasm. Also, collect yourself sir. It’s going to be my turn. We talked for about half an hour before his face found its way to my nether regions. Cumming in his mouth was an absolute delight. He put a condom on at my immediate need to be pounded, and pound me he did. As expected that downward curve made it feel like he’s wielding a donkey-dick, but not too long. It’s like a big dick hack. Downward curve, or a big head. Works like a charm.
Pushing into me on that first stroke I knew right away I was in for a good night. He wasted no time picking up speed and keeping an intense rhythm. How many times I can say “oh fuck, oh god, shit god damn,” during an encounter has never been counted, but it’s impressive. He put my legs up on his shoulders and slams me like the president’s keyboard during a twitter rant. I loved the control he took while driving me; legs up on shoulders, legs together, legs pushed wide apart. Yes. Take me hard. Get behind me. He pounds me from behind until I need to tap for a 30 minute break. Kiddo, what do you want to be called on my blog? Dublin. Whatever you want, fuck me some more. We worked through 4 condoms, with two remaining, but I was only able to get him to cum again when we decided to go raw the last two rounds. He came both times. He actually thought he was done before the last round, but I sucked his cock until he fucked me again. Literally sucked him back in. After we had two bareback sessions, with successful pull-out both times, I of course had to rub salt in the wound and tell him “aside from the HIV I’m totally clean.” Let’s just say his AIDS jokes are better. He had to limp into PT that day on no sleep, no energy, and that nagging fear he’d just willingly exposed himself to who-knows-what. My job here is done.
We maintain contact on Snapchat and both got STD tested on the same day after I got back home to Alaska. When he told me his results came back clean I said he must have gotten me between herpes outbreaks, or when the virus wasn’t shedding. If you’re not sweating bullets after unprotected semi-anonymous sex, you’re doing it wrong. Also, I text old Tinder matches in my phone that I tested positive for something- the ones I never met with, and they damn sure didn’t save my number. You can hear the collective scream from JBER on those nights, and then they all go get tested. I’m doing the Lord’s work. My boyfriend had a side-piece in Texas and it warmed my little black heart to know he took such good care of her; she said he took her on one of the best dates she’s been on in years. Trust. Our first date was so good I knew I’d marry him.
Escape room and chill?