You’ve got to be kidding me. This is on the shelves at a retail store. Please do not tell men that “awesome” comes in a bottle. That’s some serious false advertising. WTF people?!?!
Sex Kitten (with Claws) and I were chatting about previous lovers one night and we started talking about The Egyptian. He had a few tendencies that I’d never seen in a lover before. When we were in bed he would be fully asleep but yet would “hump” me from behind or even masturbate and never wake up. He was an incredibly sound sleeper and I’m a light sleeper so this was obviously a problem. Sometimes I was only getting 4-6 hours of sleep per night over a string of 4 nights or so. It made me incredibly crabby and over-tired.
I never made light of the issue but he would never take me seriously when I told him about it. He actually thought I was being “mean” and picking on him. He flat out said I was lying and never believed me. Then I read about Sexsomnia:
Sexsomnia, or sleep sex, is a rare condition where a person engages in sexual activity during sleep. This can involve masturbation, or initiating sexual contact with a partner.
I’d be interested to hear comments or stories about anyone’s experiences with this. For curiosity sake.
~Globe Trotter in Lingerie
There is one man in my life that makes me incredibly wet and horny as hell. He’s on my short-list of Best Sex Ever. I didn’t know it on our first encounter, but it’s an ill-fated relationship because he’s married. I always vowed never to be “the other woman” but now I’m officially a dirty bitch – but for this one, I don’t care.
Rico Suave is a real-life fantasy and I’m in total ecstasy when I’m with him. He’s 9 years younger than me and Mexican. He’s totally ripped in his arms and chest and has a very grab-able and lick-able ass. He has the most beautiful smile and is 100% man but without the ego – I don’t think he has any idea how hot and fuck-able he is.
I’ve known Rico Suave for almost 3 years and I recently saw him on a night out celebrating a birthday with friends. He is always a flirt with me and I was pleasantly surprised to see his car in my driveway when I got home.
If there is anyone who I might fantasize about it’s Rico Suave. There is so much passion and lust between us I feel like I’m in the hottest porn movie ever made. We went into my house and started kissing in the kitchen. He immediately went to my neck and breasts and then started pushing me toward the bedroom kissing me the whole way.
I barely remember him taking my clothes off or me undoing his. Within a minute his fingers were plunging into my wetness and I was moaning in pleasure. He pushed me onto the bed and teased me more with the tip of his hard cock and then thrust into me when he could not take any more.
He turned me and teased me from behind and I lifted my hips and he pushed in doggie style. I braced with my hands to make him go deeper and he pulled my head back with my long locks and teased me with his fingers to send me into a blissful orgasm.
I was completely lost in a world of ecstasy and eroticism at this point. He laid on his back and I covered him with my body teasing him with my erect nipples and wetness. I teased up and down his hard cock and then pushed down, letting him fill me. He held my breasts and I rocked my hips to yet another amazing orgasm.
He wasn’t done yet (thank goodness for younger men!) and he put me on my back and pushed into me. His body was slick with sweat and his muscles were pulsing and trembling as I ran my hands over him. I gripped his arms and wrapped my thighs around him to push him deeper into me. We both rode in rhythm until he exploded inside me and our flesh and muscles were twitching.
By far, some of the best sex I’ve ever had. I can’t wait to see my Rico Suave again. Every woman deserves to have sex this amazing at least once!
~Globe Trotter in Lingerie
This year I resolve to be nicer to animals. Especially cats.
Now, I have never been a cat person. When I was a teenager, my mom told me:
Every time you masturbate, God kills a kitten.
And that was when I pretty much decided that cats could go to hell. Every time I see one, I have to repress the urge to kick it. For me cats represent some sexually repressed boy with blue balls who finally snaps and molests his little brother or sister. They stand for every time a wife throws out her husband’s porn collection in disgust. For every good little Catholic girl’s guilty confession to a priest who is jacking off behind the screen even as he prescribes 10 Hail Marys for her absolution.
But this year, I will make my peace with cats. I resolve to pet the kitty every chance I get.
No, that’s not enough. Fully embracing kitty cat welfare needs to become a global movement. I will write President Obama and propose that January be declared Pussy ‘Ppreciation Month. Everyone should think of nice things they could do for the pussy in their life. Perhaps they could buy it some new toys. Maybe give it a good grooming. Some pussies love to be teased with a feather. Stroke your kitty until it purrs. Gentleman should take note of the way the cat uses its tongue to clean itself, and perhaps offer to help any pussies that aren’t able to do this for themselves.
Gotta go. As Gandhi said, be the change you wish to see in the world. I’ve got a New Year’s Resolution to keep.
~ Sex Kitten (with claws)
Playing the dating game on the internet can be a ton of fun and allows for more variety than running into someone on the street, but it sure makes the vetting process a bitch. After getting through all the usual lifestyle preference questions, The Latino Bull and I realized we might be a good match – The reason for the nickname is forthcoming. I thought it would be a super fun encounter and I hate missed opportunities so we made plans to meet.
The Latino Bull is a few years older than me. He has the typical “dark” Latino look; a great, open and honest personality and whit that I really enjoy. He has a super sexy voice and a great smile. I need to be attracted to “personality” of someone in order to be attracted to them physically. The Frenchie is a good example of this … not a “10” in attraction but I adore everything about him on the inside – and he’s one of the best lovers I’ve ever been with. The Latino Bull is not a “10” but I was thinking positive at this point – we can always do things doggie style, right?
The Latino Bull was a really below-average lover – I could not fucking believe it. He’s not a very creative kisser and did not seem like much of a boob man, which is a letdown for me. I love touching, teasing, kissing and licking and he’s just too dry and business-like for me. It was as if he had a fucking catcher’s mitt on his hand. He seems completely unaware of female anatomy – how does this happen? My vagina was the “china shop” and he was The Latino Bull. He has the tools but doesn’t know how to use them! It made me think of this quote:
“Many hammer all over the wall and believe that with each blow they hit the nail on the head.”
He missed the mark for sure. Send that man back to Female Anatomy 101! For his own sake, as well as all his future lovers. This one hits the One Date Wonders list for sure. This one might even be remembered as The Great Latino Letdown of 2011. Pass the tequila please!
~Globe Trotter in Lingerie
One of my dear, happily-married friends decided to rep a sex toy business for a little extra income (and obviously the fringe benefits). It was always discreet and she sometimes did “couple” parties that were a lot of fun. One night she had an all-women but “older” women group. The ladies were open to her suggestions and having a good time. After her presentation one of the ladies pulled her aside and said “I’m 50 years old, widowed and I’ve never had an orgasm”.
Without pause, my friend put her arm around her and said “well then, you’ve come to the right place!” It was really hard to hold in her astonishment but she vowed to rock this woman’s world after hearing this. And she did!
The woman bought a small vibrator that came highly recommended from everyone at the party. Within a few days my friend received an ecstatic phone call from her exclaiming that new little toy had taken her to a whole new world!
I guess you really can teach an old dog new tricks. 🙂
~Globe Trotter in Lingerie
I have a lot of catching-up to do here. First off, Sex Kitten is right, I did hear from Airport Man via email. He said he’s been in Afghanistan but should be back in March and wants to come and see me – and of course he “thinks about me all the time”. Is there some sort of play-book here he’s writing from? I mean really, he must be horny at hell at this point. And then he signs off by saying “Have you thought about me from time to time?” Hmmmm … does thinking about his large throbbing dick count? That’s all I can remember right now … the licking, and kissing, and hot-as-hell sex. And it all just makes me super horny!
But the truth is, Airport Man is just not the guy for me. No matter how much my throbbing desires try to persuade me.
It’s gonna be a dry-spell kind of holiday … bring on the New Year!
~Globe Trotter in Lingerie
Globe Trotter in Lingerie told me that Airport Man just sent her an e-mail (maybe she’ll let you in on what it said, don’t ask me, I don’t know!). Last week Geocacher invited me to a work party after minimal contact by text message since our date on Halloween. What is up with these guys that won’t take a hint?
I went on a date with a Nice Guy this June. He was a One Date Wonder but so into me after the first date that he sent me one text a week for the following SIX WEEKS just checking to see if I wanted to reconsider. Let me think about it… are you still spineless? Do you still live an hour away? Do you still have no car? Do you still have three kids AND A WIFE THAT YOU LIED ABOUT WHEN I AGREED TO MEET YOU? Yeah… the answer’s still no thanks, Pal.
But this guy takes the fucking cake. This e-mail was posted on The Stir. See the original post.
I’m disappointed in you. I’m disappointed that I haven’t gotten a response to my voicemail and text messages. FYI, I suggest that you keep in mind that emails sound more impersonal, harsher, and are easier to misinterpret than in-person or phone communication. After all, people can’t see someone’s body language or tone of voice in an email. I’m not trying to be harsh, patronizing, or insulting in this email. I’m honest and direct by nature, and I’m going to be that way in this email. By the way, I did a google search, so that’s how I came across your email.
I assume that you no longer want to go out with me. (If you do want to go out with me, then you should let me know.) I suggest that you make a sincere apology to me for giving me mixed signals. I feel led on by you.
Things that happened during our date include, but are not limited to, the following:
-You played with your hair a lot. A woman playing with her hair is a common sign of flirtation. You can even do a google search on it. When a woman plays with her hair, she is preening. I’ve never had a date where a woman played with her hair as much as you did. In addition, it didn’t look like you were playing with your hair out of nervousness.
-We had lots of eye contact during our date. On a per-minute basis, I’ve never had as much eye contact during a date as I did with you.
-You said, “It was nice to meet you.” at the end of our date. A woman could say this statement as a way to show that she isn’t interested in seeing a man again or she could mean what she said–that it was nice to meet you. The statement, by itself, is inconclusive.
-We had a nice conversation over dinner. I don’t think I’m being delusional in saying this statement.
In my opinion, leading someone on (i.e., giving mixed signals) is impolite and immature. It’s bad to do that.
Normally, I would not be asking for information if a woman and I don’t go out again after a first date. However, in our case, I’m curious because I think our date went well and that there is a lot of potential for a serious relationship. Of course, it’s difficult to predict what would happen, but I think there is a lot of potential for a serious relationship developing between us one day (or least there was before your non-response to my voicemail and text messages).
I think we should go out on a second date. In my opinion, our first date was good enough to lead to a second date.
Why am I writing you? Well, hopefully, we will go out again. Even if we don’t, I gain utility from expressing my thoughts to you. In addition, even if you don’t want to go out again, I would like to get feedback as to why you wouldn’t want to go again. Normally, I wouldn’t ask a woman for this type of feedback after a first date, but this is an exception given I think we have a lot of potential.
If you don’t want to go again, then apparently you didn’t think our first date was good enough to lead to a second date. Dating or a relationship is not a Hollywood movie. It’s good to keep that in mind. In general, I thought the date went well and was expecting that we would go out on a second date.
If you’re not interested in going out again, then I would have preferred if you hadn’t given those mixed signals. I feel led on. We have a number of things in common. I’ll name a few things: First, we’ve both very intelligent. Second, we both like classical music so much that we go to classical music performances by ourselves. In fact, the number one interest that I would want to have in common with a woman with whom I’m in a relationship is a liking of classical music. I wouldn’t be seriously involved with a woman if she didn’t like classical music. You said that you’re planning to go the NY Philharmonic more often in the future.
As I said, I go to the NY Philharmonic often. You’re very busy. It would be very convenient for you to date me because we have the same interests. We already go to classical music performances by ourselves. If we go to classical music performances together, it wouldn’t take any significant additional time on your part. According to the internet, you’re 33 or 32, so, at least from my point of view, we’re a good match in terms of age. I could name more things that we have in common, but I’ll stop here. I don’t understand why you apparently don’t want to go out with me again. We have numerous things in common. I assume that you find me physically attractive. If you didn’t find me physically attractive, then it would have been irrational for you to go out with me in the first place. After all, our first date was not a blind date. You already knew what I looked like before our date. Perhaps, you’re unimpressed that I manage my family’s investments and my own investments. Perhaps, you don’t think I have a “real” job. Well, I’ve done very well as an investment manager. I’ve made my parents several millions of dollars.
That’s real money. That’s not monopoly money. In my opinion, if I make real money, it’s a real job. Donald Trump’s children work for his company. Do they have “real” jobs? I think so. George Soros’s sons help manage their family investments. Do they have “real” jobs? I think so. In addition, I’m both a right-brain and left-brain man, given that I’m both an investment manager and a philosopher/writer. That’s a unique characteristic; most people aren’t like that. I’ve never been as disappointed and sad about having difficulty about getting a second date as I am with you. I’ve gone out with a lot of women in my life. (FYI, I’m not a serial dater. Sometimes, I’ve only gone out with a woman for one date.) People don’t grow on trees. I hope you appreciate the potential we have.
Am I sensitive person? Sure, I am. I think it’s better to be sensitive than to be insensitive. There are too many impolite, insensitive people in the world.
I suggest that we continue to go out and see what happens. Needless to say, I find you less appealing now (given that you haven’t returned my messages) than I did at our first date. However, I would be willing to go out with you again. I’m open minded and flexible and am willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. I wish you would give me the benefit of the doubt too. If you don’t want to go out again, in my opinion, you would be making a big mistake, perhaps one of the biggest mistakes in your life. If you don’t want to go out again, then you should have called to tell me so. Even sending a text message would have been better than nothing. In my opinion, not responding to my messages is impolite, immature, passive aggressive, and cowardly. I spent time, effort, and money meeting you for dinner. Getting back to me in response to my messages would have been a reasonable thing for you to do. In addition, you arrived about 30 minutes late for our date. I’m sure you wouldn’t like it if a man showed up thirty minutes late for a first date with you.
If you’re concerned that you will hurt my feelings by providing specific information about why you don’t want to go with me again, well, my feeling are already hurt. I’m sad and disappointed about this situation. If you give information, at least I can understand the situation better. I might even learn something that is beneficial.
If you don’t want to go out again, that I request that you call me and make a sincere apology for leading me on (i.e., giving me mixed signals). In my opinion, you shouldn’t act that way toward a man and then not go out with him again. It’s bad to play with your hair so much and make so much eye contact if you’re not interested in going out with me again. I have tried to write this email well, but it’s not perfect. Again, I’m not trying to be harsh, insulting, patronizing, etc. I’m disappointed, sad, etc. I would like to talk to you on the phone. I hope you will call me back at xxx-xxx-xxxx> (if it’s inconvenient for you to talk on the phone when you read this email, you can let me know via email that you are willing to talk on the phone and I’ll call you). If you get my voicemail, you can a leave a message and I can call you back. Even if you don’t want to go out again, I would appreciate it if you give me the courtesy of calling me and talking to me. Yes, you might say things that hurt me, but my feelings are already hurt. Sending me an email response (instead of talking on the phone) would better than no response at all, but I think it would be better to talk on the phone. Email communication has too much potential for misinterpretation, etc.
Holy shit. This guy is so crushingly oblivious and devastatingly neurotic that I actually feel sorry for him. But the pity is dulled by the equally strong desire to gouge out his fucking eyes and make him eat them. Some guys just can’t take the hint!
~ Sex Kitten (with claws)
I didn’t lose my virginity until I was 22. Not because I was waiting until marriage or anything (I’m an Atheist anyway), but it just didn’t feel right with my main high school boyfriend or my college boyfriend. When I met Antonio, though, I knew I wanted him to be my first lover.
This was totally inappropriate for several reasons. Firstly, he spoke no English. Secondly, he was a smoker, which I detest. And thirdly and most critically… he worked under me at the horse farm that I managed for the absentee owners. “Worked under me” was not (in the beginning at least) a sexual innuendo. I was the manager and he was one of four illegal immigrants that we illegally employed to take care of the horses and the facility.
This was no innocent puppy love accident. I made up my mind that I wanted him and very deliberately went about seducing him. Which was ridiculously easy to do, as you might imagine. I still remember the first words that I said to him (in Spanish) as a calculated flirtation: “I like your smile.” To which he responded instantly “Why?” And so it began.
Within a week of acknowledging the possibility we had slept together. To my very great surprise, he was a virgin, too. He had never even kissed a girl, but let me tell you… the boy was a quick study. We were pretty sure that we were the first people ever to discover sex and it was the best thing ever.What both of us lacked in experience we more than made up for in enthusiasm and creativity. More than one morning we were late to work because one of us had kissed the other goodbye and we wound up on the floor. We broke a bed. We came down from the hay loft with rumpled clothing and hay in our hair. We had to pull off the road driving together many times because we were making each other so hot. Once, his brother nearly walked in on us on his living room floor and later discovered one of my socks on a stack of dinner plates on a kitchen shelf. “How did you start?!” he asked in disbelief. I blushed.
Our relationship remained a secret from the clients and our boss for the two years we were together. My Spanish got really good. Funnest way ever to learn a new language is to fuck a beautiful foreigner.We had very little in common besides intense physical attraction, and that plus probably the excitement of a forbidden romance and the fact that we worked together and saw each other every day took us surprisingly far. Our fights were spectacular. I’m not easily provoked to anger, but Antonio could push my buttons like no one before or since. He had technique of deflecting any sort of attempt to talk about something that was bothering me by saying “So, you want to break up. You’ve decided you don’t want to be with a Mexican.” That was guaranteed to drive me crazy! I’m most ashamed of the time I responded by shrieking “Don’t be such a child!” while simultaneously flinging a handful of baby carrots at him. I was so furious at the time that the irony completely escaped me. In bed afterwards, we laughed our asses off. Naturally, the make-up sex was mind blowing. Looking back, I suspect he sometimes goaded me into fits of temper because it brought out my “inner Latina” that he claimed to adore.
And then I got pregnant. I was not prepared for how this would effect either of us. I knew I didn’t want to have a baby, I grew up liberal and fiercely pro-choice, and to me an abortion was the rational, logical, obvious solution. But I had a fucking emotional meltdown. I told no one except Antonio, who really wanted the baby and also went to pieces. I’ll never forget a horrible night of him pleading with me and then literally sobbing in my arms once he realized I couldn’t be talked out of having the abortion. That terrified me. I realized that I was totally out of my depth… Antonio wanted someone to be with forever and raise a family. He had decided that “someone” was me. And I didn’t want that at all.
I miscarried the day before I was scheduled to go in to pick up the pills that would cause the abortion. I had decided for some reason that the pill option would be better and more private somehow than the surgical option, even though the pills were less effective, would cause me to be sick, and would required extra visits to the clinic. Not having anyone to talk to, because I hadn’t confided in anyone other than Antonio who was more clueless that I was and was an emotional wreck himself, I panicked over the bleeding and called a crisis hotline when I couldn’t reach my doctor at night. The crisis hotline I had picked from the phone book ended up being a Pro-Life counseling center in disguise. The woman on the phone talked down to me implying that I was getting what I deserved when she found out that I had scheduled an abortion and wasn’t Christian. She was still trying to talk me into considering adoption when I hung up on her. I was bleeding and crying all over my bathroom floor. All I wanted to know was whether or not I was miscarrying and if I needed to go to the hospital and she wouldn’t even tell me that. I’m still not sure how she could justify her behavior as the “compassionate” stance….
That was the beginning of the end of Antonio and I. We continued dating for a few months after that, but it wasn’t the same. The fact that I was going to break his heart loomed over us both and it wasn’t fun anymore. We couldn’t enjoy the present when we knew that I didn’t want the same future together that he did. The fighting got worse. We broke up. He quit working at the farm. We got back together briefly, but it didn’t last.
I look back fondly at much of that time, even if the end was bittersweet. I wonder how he sees it. We are totally out of touch now; it’s been more than seven years since I last saw him. I imagine he’s married with children by now. I hope he’s happy.
You never forget your first love.
~ Sex Kitten (with claws)
OK, Singletons… ‘fess up. You’ve done it. We’ve all done it. No, not that, you freak. I’m talking about the Drunk Dial. Or perhaps it was a text. Anyway, it was a lonely Friday night and you put down your third glass of wine/beer/whipped cream vodka and Fanta (don’t judge me, we’ve all got our preferences) and picked up the phone. And in the morning? Humiliation. Regret. Self-loathing.
I want to invent an App that would block the user from calling or texting certain numbers for a specified amount of time. You could set it when you start drinking, or if you know you’re feeling especially vulnerable. Because let’s face it… many of us don’t need to get drunk to lack impulse control and have serious lapses in judgement. Hell, listening to Gravity is as dangerous as four rum-and-cokes for facilitating a pathetic late night text.
Mac already has a computer program called Self Control that you can use to block yourself from certain websites. After reading about it on takingbacksingle’s blog I found the review on Self Control from Wired magazine. So it can’t be long now until they realize emotional kleptomaniacs like me could use one for their phones, too.
~ Sex Kitten (with claws)
Maybe I could even re-name it the “Easy Button” because that’s a good way to describe it = Sucking my fingers while he fingers me. I feel like I won the orgasm lottery!
Sex with him is slow, intense, deep and deliberate … And leaves me breathless. The passion in our bodies is so overwhelming I can barely put it into words. I love it when his arms and abs get hard when he’s pushing into me. I want to stop time when I’m naked with him – turn up the music, pull me in, because I want an overdose of this man!
After dinner and a movie we decided to hit a club for dancing and a few drinks. I loved feeling him get hard under his jeans in public. And even more fun to have everyone watch us dance “dirty” and tease each other – and the quintessential “I’m fucking you later” look.
The plus side of this is that I know he’s amazing in a hundred ways but the downside is that I have to keep saying goodbye. In the two years we’ve known each other, we’ve never made “plans” for a future visit. This time he asked if he could come back in January. I said yes … in a frighteningly committed way.
As they say: “Never go back to an old love, it’s like reading a book over and over again when you already know how it ends.” I know how this ends, but it’s a best-seller in my heart and always on my bookshelf.
~Globe Trotter in Lingerie
Sex Kitten is pissed at me but I think she’ll get over it. The French Man came back for a visit. He usually surprises me with a day or two notice – I can’t complain about the inconvenience – he wrote the book on seduction tactics.
After a drink at a local wine and tapas bar we got home and he pushed me against the wall; light teases, fierce kisses, licking and intense massaging all over my body until I almost exploded. I can’t even describe how stellar this man is in and out of bed.
I’m a boob girl. I don’t mean other boobs, just my own. I really need a man with a boob addiction. Nothing sends me over the edge more than teasing my breasts. The Frenchie mastered the hot button on me during our morning sex adventure.
He was laying behind me with one hand under and around me teasing my nipple. The other hand was between my legs with light-as-a-feather fingers gliding over me while he was thrusting and pushing into me from behind. I shuddered and shaked … It sent me over the edge to ecstasy.
We’ve definitely mastered the art of morning sex. And the whisker burn was worth it. Je vous remercie de tout cœur.
~Globe Trotter in Lingerie
Yesterday I woke up with a splitting headache so bad that I ended up puking into a plastic bag in my car on the way to work. And Globe Trotter in Lingerie woke up with a Frenchman.
Life’s. Not. Fair.
~ Sex Kitten (with Claws)