2017 is ending

I ended up continuing to fuck Lee all summer. I dived into the kinky world. No regrets. I also finally visited the dungeon.

My regret, though? Fucking him. A girl commented on his picture on Facebook “mine” a few weeks ago. He’s yours? Then why did he fuck me just a week before? No, I’m not mad at her. I’m upset with myself for seeing someone I know was fucking others. I just kept holding onto hope I would be “more” to him one day. Clearly, I am not, and never will be.

He did come out with me and a few friends for my birthday. I went with him to his friend’s house party as well. That gave me hope.

Don’t’cha know hoping is asking for hurt? Don’t hope.

I haven’t spoken to him in about 2 and a half weeks. I didn’t want to bring up her comment, let alone through text. But I have decided that I will. Not be crazy about it, just kind of let him know I saw her comment, it has sort of bothered me in that I didn’t know he was seeing someone that seriously (to the point of claiming him) and I don’t feel comfortable fucking someone who is dating someone.

I won’t say anything until I hear from him. If I do. Maybe he’s done with me, too. A mutual, unsaid ending. That works.

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Too Many Feelings

I’ll be spending a few days at my ex’s, Clay’s, apartment this week. My friend from out of state is flying in, and she’s allergic to cats and here at my parents, we have three. Plus, he’d like some time with his baby girl. And, as much as I hate to admit it, I want to see him.

Ever since I had my baby girl, I’ve wanted to fix us so strongly. I know I don’t love him; I know we simply cannot work out while he’s drinking; I know that I don’t even want to be in a committed relationship with him. But for some strange reason, I really, really just want to be with him.

Even if he quit drinking, I wouldn’t be happy in a committed relationship with him at this point in my life. Maybe it makes me slutty, but I still want to have sex with other people. I want to experience a threesome. I want to explore sex so much more. And honestly, he doesn’t.

I had to bug him for weeks to go to a sex shop with me. I have to demand we try a different position.

He’s comfortable with himself sexually, he’s open to talking and watching porn and masturbating with me. But, for some reason when it comes to actually trying different things, he just doesn’t. Which is super frustrating, because at the beginning of us, he told me that by the time he’s done with me, I’ll be super experienced (because he’s been with a lot of women, I’ve seen his list, and knows like alll the positions).

Ok, great. Soo…when are you going to teach me these new positions??

As for a threesome…He says only if it’s with another girl. I said sure, but on the condition we later do it with another guy. Maybe porn has glamorized it, but I like the idea of two guys and me…He flat out refused, saying he couldn’t watch another guy fuck me.

So I asked, at a different time, if we could do an open relationship. Where we’d get one free pass a month to fuck someone else. He liked it for himself, but said no because it meant agreeing for me as well. Although he did say I was the only person he cared to sleep with.

I don’t want to go whoring around, but I do want to sleep with others. I want sex to be exciting, and more than just a release. I mean, I can get a release all on my own.

I want sex to be thrilling. Like the night with John Doe, when he said he’s going to strap me down and I laughed, not knowing he was serious. Feeling him pin my body down as I struggled beneath him, his arm stretching for the under the mattress strap. Being pinned down, followed by straps around my wrists was beyond hot.

And it only happened once.

Sex should be more than a release. No, every single time won’t be hot and exciting; it’ll be quick and fulfilling. But when nothing changes in over a year…well, yeah. I reached the point, I only had sex with Clay just because he wanted to. I literally had no desire for it anymore- at least sex with him.

So these feelings of wanting to be with him- they’ll pass. Probably within the first day at his apartment.

Losing Your Virginity Doesn’t Hurt

I’ve lost count of how many blogs/articles where women writers state that “losing your virginity really doesn’t hurt”, “you don’t bleed”, and that those two things are just made up to scare girls into staying virgins.

Okay, first off, losing my virginity hurt like a bitch. To the point, I cried. But hey, ya know, I guess my pain was completely imagined, and all in my head. That my vagina was sore for two fucking days because I imagined it was suppose to be.

Tell me that I wasn’t fully aroused enough, and that’s what caused it to hurt. Say it. I know these writers who say these statements believe that. But news-flash: I was aroused. I was wet. I wanted him like nothing else.

Sure, I was scared. And I changed my mind (but he didn’t stop). But there was plenty of foreplay involved, and I was aroused. I was horny as fuck.

And I did bleed. Not like a period, but there was blood. I spotted for the next 36 hours or so.

No, not all girls will experience the amount of pain I did when they have sex for the first time. Not all girls will bleed. But I really wish the women saying it doesn’t hurt and you won’t bleed would stop, and actually listen to the women who do experience that.

Just because you didn’t experience pain or bleeding when you gave your virginity away doesn’t mean that pain and bleeding are a myth.

I think it was fourth time I had sex it didn’t hurt at all. The pain wasn’t anything at all like the first time, but there was a little pain at the beginning of the next couple of sex sessions I had.

And there’s that. It’s been building for awhile. Ladies, agree, disagree?

Let’s Talk About Rape

The last couple of days I’ve been thinking about rape. What is rape exactly? I know what it is. But then you get to the confusing lines- and maybe it’s not confusing at all, and it’s just me complicating things.

I don’t consider what happened to me rape. Everyone I’ve told does.

I was stupid. I let myself get drunk with a guy I barely knew. I allowed myself to stay the night in his bed. I didn’t reject his kisses, his touches. Sure, I told him I didn’t want him going down on me, but when he said it’ll be okay, I relented.

Then here comes the self-blame…which could be me muddling things. He sits up, and without me even realizing it, has no pants on, and is putting his hard cock inside me.

I said no, stop. I grabbed his biceps, and tried to push him off.

But then he got upset, and I let him fuck me.

Is that rape?

Everyone says it is.

Maybe I say it’s not because I blame myself for even putting myself in that situation. I blame myself for not fighting him more and making him understand I truly did not want to fuck, how much it hurt.

I cried while he fucked me. He never even knew, never even saw the silent tears trickling from eyes into the pillows.

I know if I know of that happening to someone in my life, or even a stranger, I would be angry. I would call it rape.

There are different types of rape, but it’s all rape. Brutal rape from a stranger. Rape from a guy a girl thought she could trust. Rape from a guy who intentionally got you drunk because you wouldn’t fuck him sober.

Rape. It doesn’t matter what extreme it happens in, it isn’t something you forget. It affects you, lives with you.

Oh my

*southern belle fan wave*

“Thank you.”

Ok, not really. A “thank you” did not slip off my tongue, touch my lips- enter my brain!

A couple weeks ago on the Daily Prompt, they had the topic of back-handed compliments, and while I didn’t get a chance to join back then, I am writing my piece now. Kinda late in the game, but albeit, a very true piece.

My ex-boyfriend, who now lives with me of all things, and I were laying down together, and we’re talking about past sexual relationships. He tells me he loves me for me and that he knows he loves me more than any other past girlfriend.

I ask him how he knows that, and he says “because I love sex. You know that. All I wanted from them was sex, but with you, it’s not just about sex.”

Okay, good answer, I’ll take that. Then, then he adds, because guys are fucking idiots, “even though you’re not the best I’ve ever had in bed, I still love you.”

Um, what the fuck??

For starters, I know why imagined out of all the women he’s fucked, that I am THE FUCKING BEST, but to seriously tell me that?

Needless to say, I ended up ignoring him. And we didn’t fuck for probably almost a month. He tried to explain himself: I think you’re really good, I didn’t mean you were bad, I was trying to explain how much I love you for YOU, that it’s not just about sex.

I finally got over, and we resumed fucking. But that is indeed the worst “compliment” I’ve received.

Drunk Sex

First time with every guy I was drunk.

I’m not sure I even know to have sober sex with a guy for the first time. Because for every guy that I’ve fucked, I’ve been drunk the first time. Does that make me slutty?

I think drunk sex is super fun. You lose your self-conscious feelings about your body. I mean, c’mon you’re drunk! You’re a fucking model, and fuck like a queen bitch.

But then you wake up in the morning, your head pounding and you’re just like what the fuck did I do? Who did I do?

One morning, I woke up in my own bed though, regret twisting my stomach. But it wasn’t until I saw the guy a few nights later that I really hated myself. He was ugly! (Not that ugly guys can’t have sex, but I’m gonna be shallow here, and admit that if I’m going to have a one night stand, I want the guy to be drooling hot.)

And he was arrogant. So proud of his fat dick. Called me a virgin because it hurt when he tried going in. Dude, it hurt because your dick is short and fat. Like, I’m not trying to be mean, but how dare you mock me. He did too, he called me a virgin, his tone full of mockery. I left before he got off.

The guy I’m dating now, we had sex the first time when I was drunk. The first several times I was drunk. And he’s the last guy I’ll fuck for the first time drunk. From now on, no more drunk first time fucking. I don’t want to regret anymore. I want to make sure when I have sex with a new guy for the first time it’s because I actually want to, not the drunk me.