My 21st birthday is why I cannot smell whiskey let alone drink it. Everyone has certain expectations what it will be like to finally be able to legally drink in a bar. I went out with a handful of my Beta guy friends and few of my Pitt girlfriends in Oakland late in the evening. It was my birthday at the stroke of midnight. Everyone was buying shots for me, so I did not get to pick what kind of alcohol. I did a total of nineteen shots that evening. I did not remember anything after shot number fourteen that was Jack Daniels. The guys carried me out of the bar and put me into the car. I crashed at their place.
The next day was my actual birthday. I was dead. I was barely able to drive home. I had thrown up the night before. I wanted to crawl in a hole and die. I slept all day at my house. I was going out to Touch, a club in the Strip District, with some of my friends from high school. I pulled myself together and went out. I had half of a beer and felt like I wanted to die all over again. I called my mom to pick me up to go home. I was at home watching TV in comfy clothes. Ken text messaged me asking how my birthday. I told him what happened and that I was at home. He asked me if I wanted to come over his place to get my birthday gift. I got the biggest smile across my face. Yes, please. I told him I would be over soon.
I got to Ken’s house and we sat on the porch for a little bit. We went inside and up to his room. It started out like normal foreplay between us. I was laying down on my back while he was showing my Miss Lucy some attention. He pulled himself up on top of me and pushed my legs a part further. I was so ready for birthday sex. However, the next feeling I felt was not his dick. I did not know what was going on or trying to go in me, but I was in pain. I sat up and let out a yelp in pain. I sternly said to Ken, “What in the fuck are you trying to do to me?!” He replied, “Madison said she loved it, so I wanted to try it on you.” Madison was a mutual good friend of ours. She was dating his friend, Luke. Ken attempted tofistme. I do not judge what some people like as their strokes, but that shit was not for me. My poor pikachu was almost torn a part by his big hands. I asked Ken if we could take five and then have our regular, fun sex. He nodded in agreement. Thank God!
God bless any woman who likes to get fisted. It felt like someone was trying to shove a baby in my pikachu and break my vagina bones in the process. Lord have mercy. I am not a vanilla broad in bed by any means, but I would like my vagina to not turn into muff cabbage.
Everyone sins somehow, someway in life. No one is squeaky clean. Life would be boring if we were all ‘Beaver Cleavers.’ It is fun to break the rules. It is more entertaining to be on the naughty list.
James and I were good friends since high school. We always had a flirtation between us, but it was just as friends. We kept our friendship going over the years even after we graduated. He was a good-looking, muscular guy. James was great at making people laugh. It was an all around fun time when you were around him.
Fast forward to the end of summer 2011. A group of us were out for a night of muckery on the town. We all took the after party back to where the guys lived. We continued drinking there. It was down to just James and I drinking on the steps. I do not remember what was said between us, but we ended up in a forceful kiss. It was intense. The kind of kiss you see in movies and get a little wet in your pants. He grabbed my arm and pulled me around to the side of the building. James was unbuttoning and unzipping my jeans faster than ice cream melting on a 98 degree day. He pulled my jeans down to my ankles. I was not complaining. I did not know what took over both of us, but I was on board. He was kissing my stomach. I thought my legs were going to give out on me. He stood up to start kissing me again. I started undoing his belt and getting his jeans opened. He turned me around to face the brick wall. James smacked my ass and thrusted in me from behind in one swift motion. I lost all sense of being outside in the open. I did not have a care in the world. I wanted to ride that high ecstasy feeling all the way out. He wanted to do more positions than that brick wall would allow, so we moved our sex session into his apartment.
Did I mention that he lived in an old church? They converted the old church into apartments. We had sex on once holy ground. I was pushed up against the brick wall having sex on an old church. There were sins being committed and entered all over the place that evening. None of that entered my mind at the time this animal rage took over both of us. Would I ever do that again? Hell yeah, I would in a heart beat. Get in where you fit in.
I am not a lovey-dovey kind of broad. Yes, I like some sentimental gifts at the right moment. Valentine’s Day is a Hallmark holiday. It does not make it as special. It makes it as special as a dozen roses. Roses are not unique. If a guy found out what their broad’s favorite flower was and sent her those, that would be special. It is my opinion on it.
It was nearing the end of January in 2006. There were a lot of commercials promoting the movie ‘Saw’ as a great Valentine’s Day gift. A lot of people would find that humorous. What about that movie is cookie cutter Hallmark holiday? It was my first time celebrating Valentine’s Day. The commercial would be on TV and I would say, “Oh that is exactly what I would want for my Valentine’s Day gift! It just screams love!” I would think that the majority of people who knew me would take that as sarcasm at its finest. I bought Gary a University of Pittsburgh cooler. He had season tickets to the games and loved drinking beer. Ideal gift for Valentine’s Day. Gary told me he got me something I had been wanting for weeks. I was clueless, but I was excited. He bought me the movie ‘Saw.’
Are you kidding me? How could a guy have no idea how twisted of a gift that was for that holiday? How did the person you were dating not know you were being sarcastic? The best part of this story was a little over a year later. Gary had gone on my family vacation with me. We stopped at my Uncle’s in Virginia on the way back from North Carolina. A few of my girlfriends that lived near my Uncle’s came over for a pool party. We were sitting around the table, drinking and talking. Some how bad gifts topic popped up in our discussion. I told this story. Gary looked like a deer in headlights. Over a year later, he still did not know that I was being sarcastic about wanting the movie. ::smack my damn head::
There are so many joys in drinking alcohol. You can make new friends. You can dance like it is nobody’s business. You can try out new drinks, beers, wines, or shots. You can laugh the night away. It takes away somethings though. It is wonderful when you wake up and realize pieces of your memory are missing from the night before along with articles of clothing.
Carnival was a fun time of the year. It was one weekend every year in the spring that my one group of college friends celebrated while in school and after they graduated. A bunch of the broads and guys came in town for it. It was the same spring time I was hanging out with Gavin. Saturday night we went out to Zen. It was one of the later clubs opened in Pittsburgh. We had a blast. The shots were flowing through the evening. It was closing time and we lost everyone. Evan and I had my friendly taxi cab driver drive us back to Will’s house where we were all staying the night. That is where it got a little hazy. My memory was a little bit of a blur.
I woke up the next morning in the recliner chair, wrapped in a blanket, and no pants. I was confused. Everyone was slowly starting to wake up. I started looking on the floor around the chair. I said out loud, “Where are my pants?” Eric found my missing pants problem funny. He took the opportunity to be a comic and said, “How many times have you said that?” I replied, “Ha Ha you’re so funny Eric.” I noticed I had pizza type sauce under my one fingernail. I did not remember eating anything. I was holding the blanket around my bottom half as I looked around the living room for my pants. They were nowhere to be found. I went upstairs and peaked in Gavin’s room. My pants were laying next to his bed. Dear Lord! I did not remember being in his room the night before or doing anything with him. I grabbed them from the floor and shimmied them on in the hallway. I walked back downstairs. Eric laughed and asked where I found them. I smiled and replied, “On the floor.”
If you and your friend are both intoxicated, is it right to place blame on one of them for having sex without a condom? Do broads carry around condoms in their purses at all times? Should men always have a condom in their wallet? I do have condoms in my nightstand drawer. I do not carry one around with me. I feel this is a give and take subject. If you are having a lot of sex, you should carry protection with you to be prepared if the opportunity arises. No pun intended.
I was hanging out and hooking up with Gavin one spring. Gavin and I went out with our friends drinking one night. We went to our buddy’s house for a late night hot tub after party. I did not bring a suit. I went in the hot tub in my g-string and bra. It is close enough to a bikini. All of us were pretty drunk after drinking more beer and spending time in the hot tub. Gavin and I ended up hooking up in one of the bedrooms. He was a good-looking guy. I admired him even more without clothes on. He had great muscles not to mention a nice washboard stomach. We were both already in our under garments. It did not take much to get fully naked. We were going at it rough in the bed. Gavin was pulling my hair hard and sucking my nipples even harder. Sometimes drunk sex can be great sex.
The next morning, my nipples were so sensitive. He sucked my nipples raw. That was some rough, hot sex. My bra was still wet from the hot tub. I decided to get dressed without my bra and underwear. I stuffed my underwear in my pants pocket. I was just going to have to carry my bra out in the open. My one buddy drove us to our cars. I got in my car to go home and realized I left my bra in my buddy’s backseat. I figured I would get it off Gavin the next time I saw him.
A few nights later, I was in Gavin’s area drinking with my older guy friends, Austin and Adam. I text messaged Gavin asking if I could swing by to get my bra or if he could meet me out. He told me he did not have it anymore. I had no clue what that meant. I inquired further. He told me he threw my bra away. My response to him, “What in the hell did you do that for?!?!” He said he was mad at me for letting us have sex without a condom. Oh my god, was this real life. I was relaying the conversation to Austin and Adam. They were laughing hysterically. I informed Gavin he threw away a Victoria’s Secret bra which was expensive. He thought I was kidding. I told him my bras cost me $52. He felt like an asshole at that point.
A couple of days later, I received a check in the mail from Gavin for $52. I had a good chuckle, but I appreciated the gesture. It was the only black bra I owned, so I needed one to replace it. That was the first and last time a guy threw one of my bras away.
Men and women have all had that loss of reality moment. That moment where all common sense and rational thought go out the window. You leave your body for a minute then realize how ridiculous you sound and come back down to reality. We all have a little bit of crazy in us.
One day, I was over my boyfriend’s house. We had a nice early evening of fun sex. Drew was such a big, muscular guy. He threw me around like a rag doll. He was standing up holding me in the air while bouncing me off of him. I loved every minute of it. We finished up our little romp session. He asked me if I could help him with redding up his room and putting away laundry. I was clearing out his gym bag for him. I found a few bobby pins in it. I did not wear bobby pins. Drew had a shaved head. I started a whole round of 20 questions in my head. He was coming back up the steps. All level-headed thoughts went out the window. I went off on him. I said to him, “Who the hell have you been sleeping with?!” He looked like a deer in head lights. He wanted to know what I was even talking about. I opened my hand and showed him all the bobby pins. I told him I found them in his gym bag. He was about to answer me when I stopped him. In his bedroom light, I could see sparkles all over his face. At this point, I was completely off the ground of reality. I asked him who had he been with earlier that day that had sparkles on them. He was looking at me like I was crazy. Drew told he hadn’t been with anyone besides me since we started dating. It hit me that I lost my mind.
I went to the bathroom to pee. I saw sparkles. I forgot I had put on Jessica Simpson’s dessert powder. I put it on above my Miss Lucy. It had sparkles in the powder. I was accusing Drew of sleeping with some whore with sparkles. I was that sparkly whore.
It was funny how I went from a rational person to freak out Felicity in the flip of a switch. I sounded absurd. Bobby pins and sparkles sent me over the edge. Really? Why do most of us assume the worst? Have we all been lied to and cheated on so much that we cannot believe someone can be faithful? No one wants their little bit of crazy to show. You do not want to let the crazy take over your common sense.
The first porno I watched was ‘Exit to Eden.’ Nothing screams sexy like Dan Aykroyd and Rosie O’Donnell in leather outfits. Ha. Pornos, magazines, and so on, show and talk about orgasms during sex. When you are young watching a porno, you assume sex makes you orgasm every time. It seems like it is just loud moaning. You read an article about women having orgasms during sex. Everyone must be having orgasms all the time.
When I was younger having sex, I never had an orgasm. I did not want to be the red-headed step child, so I faked it. The guys always get their release from ecstasy. I always faked it. I thought there was something wrong with me. I could get myself off, but I could not orgasm while having sex. I enjoyed having sex. It felt good. I just never got to the finish line.
I have talked to some of my past beaus about this topic. They did not know they never got me off. I must have given a hell of a performance. Do guys really not know if a broad has an orgasm? Maybe they are in the dark just as much as the women. My body shudders and shakes a little bit from it. It truly feels like an earth quake. You even have the after shocks like one.
I was always alone when I had ‘me time.’ I was self-conscious when a guy I was dating would actually try to make me orgasm. I am notorious for squirming away when I am getting close to my O. I never masterbated in a mirror, so I had no idea what I looked like when it happened to me. What if I made an ugly face. That would not be sexy during sex. After Peter and I had sex one night, I pulled out my bullet to get my orgasm. It was the first time I was ever going to masterbate with someone else in the same room let alone right next to me in bed. He was upset that I did that after we had sex. He got his release. I wanted to get mine too. I was happy I was able to break through that comfort wall and achieve the task with him in bed next to me. It is hard to please everyone’s egos when it comes to the big O.
I love when people hear I do not usually orgasm from sex. You would think the world stopped moving for a moment. Most people think you need to have an orgasm to enjoy sex. You can have amazing sex without having an orgasm. At least, I have had great sex even though I did not get my earthquake.
I learned I am more of a clitorus orgasm. I can make myself cum every time with my clit. I am in my 30’s and can say only two men have ever got me to orgasm. I tell men I am seeing that I do not usually orgasm from sex. I feel that it is better to give a disclaimer to avoid that awkward moment during sex. That moment when a guy says, “Are you close?” I faked orgasms when I was a young broad. I do not play pretend anymore. Ain’t nobody got time for that.