I met Frenchy 3 days ago in a chat room for fat women and the men who love them (those are chubby chasers, darling).  He really is French and really does love fat women – which, oddly, is rare in those rooms.  Most men in a fat girl chat room are really just guys who believe fat women are inherently desperate because we are fat – not always true (most of the time, yes, but not always.)

Frenchy immediately said something about being turned on and I simply laid it out for him.  I said something to the effect of “I’m not in the mood to talk about your penis.”  I’m already thinking this is the end of the conversation and I’ll never hear from him again – but I was wrong.  The next day he messaged me and asked me if we could talk.  He was kind – and sweet the way he asked me so I said yes.

We started chatting and 4 hours flew by – isn’t it weird how people on the internet always say that one – “Time just flew by!” – anyway, I digress.  We were chatting and he didn’t say a single thing about sex.  We talked about goals and dreams and family… life… whatever.  We got to know each other.

So tonight, he asked me if he could call me on the phone.  He said, “Anastasia, I want to hear your voice.”  Simple enough, yeah, but we all know there’s something behind that.  There are common phrases and words that men use to mean “I want to fuck.”  These include, but are not limited to:

• I’m lonely.
• I just want to hold you.
• Do you want to have fun?
• I just want to cuddle.
• We can just lay here with our clothes on.
• Nothing’s going to happen.
• You can just come over and have a beer.
• I miss you.
• Can I ask you something?
• I wish I could touch you.
• What are you thinking about?
• I’ll come over, we don’t have to do anything.
• I want to kiss you.  Just kiss.
• You make me feel (adjective).
• You’re amazing.
• You’re beautiful… so beautiful.
• I wish my wife/girlfriend was like you.
• She doesn’t know me like you do.
• Why can’t we just hang out?
• Haven’t you ever just wanted to hold someone?

and others too numerous to mention without becoming redundant and silly.

So of course I doubted Frenchy’s motives but still gave him my number – which is totally okay.  We started talking and we laughed and it was fun.  It was innocent and sweet and fun.  Then he started speaking in French.  I was donzo. Seriously, totes.  Just… done.  I said I had to go – it was so beautiful… it sounded like music.  I could almost see French on top of me, with his arms around me tight, pushing that cock inside me and whispering to me in breathy, rushed, fevered French.  almost.

I told him I had to go.  Did he listen to me?  Of course Not.

……………………………..Up Next?  S.18~Frenchy

Sickly bleached off-pink hair, daring piercings and provocative tattoos.

Eddy flashed his childish grin, at me when the band name was announced.

And then there he goes, spilling beers, laughing and cheering with his mates –similar, defiant fashioned, yet oddly friendly boys. Their tattooed frenzy limbs clinging around shoulders, whilst in their cheering laughter, they exchanged jolly swearing congratulations.

“Congratulation.” I blurted in excitement, relieved that I didn`t stumble a stutter. 10 panicked fingers dug dipper into my dark jeans and nervous eyes shied away when Eddy leaned towards me –The naturally arched brow frowned a bit before disturbing me with his mesmeric eyes.

“Yeah, so do I get a kiss from you, Haley?” Soft warming awareness crept where his fingers stroked –along the rail of my cheekbone fishing longer red fringes of my hair sideways. My eyes were nowhere but staring at his alcohol-moistened lips, wondering and my heartbeats, messy. This discreet consciousness might as well be an embarrassing display; instead luckily I got curios of his tongue piercing which, implied, crude fascination than girlish distress.

“Yo, you`re blushing…” He teased again poking my blush-swelling cheek. “NO.” I protested bashfully. The wicked red contacts gleamed devilishly, in harmony with his dark honey eyes. Then the narrow lips stretched sideways into a victory smirk, amused. He knew…

“Edmond…?” A girly voice interrupted Eddy`s fixture upon me.

The hellion tore his mischievous glare away to the entrance as I waved weakly at the adorable girl in strawberry colors. Ah, she made it, “Hi, Michelle!”

I took a step back; fighting the jealous butterflies witnessing Eddy spoiling his girlfriend with much adoration. His eyes soften with fondness as Michelle coiled her arms around his waist, whining about Kiki-our cousin`s Chihuahua.

Heaving a caring sigh, the pink haired punk managed to sneak a look behind the fine champagne locks, smiling so helplessly at me. I requited with an unintended grin realizing to late that I fell for his smile…

END.

So here’s an update – I truly thought that after a week of blogging – things would be different.  I really did.  Come to think of it, it was a week ago that this all started.  With the same guy I had sex with last night.  The guy who I’m never going to have sex with again.

Seriously.  Never.  Why?  This guy, Beard (because he has one), decided he needed to get all bullshit and introspective on me last night after he jizzed and I wouldn’t kiss him.  Seriously, who wants to kiss sweaty-naked beer breath guy?

He starts crying about how his girlfriend henpecks him and they haven’t had sex since the last time she got pregnant but he’s never going to leave because they have children.  Somewhere during that conversation, I just decided it was absolutely not worth it.  If I let him do what he wants, Beard will come over my house 3 times a week every other week (when he’s not out of town for work) and give it to me but good – before he goes home to his family.

I might be a silly whore sometimes, but I’m not that fucking silly.  Really.  There’s no way I’m going to live my life as your jump off – waiting for when you think you have time to come over my house and have sex with me, kill a couple of hours (it’s that good) and then go home… to your pregnant girlfriend.

So what if the chick is an idiot – does she deserve that?  I don’t know.  Truthfully, I don’t care whether she deserves it or not.  This decision isn’t borne of karmic fear.  It’s purely selfish and I’m not going to act like it’s any other way.  I’m doing it because I don’t want to be that chick.  I don’t want to be the chick he uses to get off and then he goes home and plays daddy and husband.

Maybe I’m not as thirsty as I once thought.

I take that back.  During our talk, he said “You’re just fucking me because I’m a bad ass.  Because I ride a Harley and I”ll beat the shit out of anyone who pisses me off.  You’re fucking me because you’re scared of me, that’s all.”  Which is kind of true.  But because it was true, I had no choice but to become righteously indignant and start talking about what a good person he was (comPLETE bullSHIT) and how I was attracted to him for who “I know he is inside.”  (eye roll)

He got really soft when I said that though – I do know how to play them, don’t I? – and he touched my face and said something about good mothers and children – but I’m fuzzy because I was shitfaced drunk.  Fast forward about 5 minutes, this fool ended up telling me he loved me and that he would be really happy with me…. if it wasn’t for his baby mama… who he was going home to.

Seriously.  Sometimes I just want to stab myself with a rusty fork.

………………………………Next Up?  S.11 – Your Brand Of Crazy

Okay, I failed to mention that while I was shopping with Devon I got a text from Brad. What the fuck? He had nothing to do with me once he got off. Anyway, I guess my purse called him and he was saying he missed my call. No biggie; ignore it and move on.

Now texts from him are coming in at a steady stream. Told him I was seeing someone and he sent me a beautiful naked photo of himself. God, he is so fucking beautiful! Not the best lover, but insanely sexy…he makes all those pretty boys on TV look ordinary. Damn him!

What Light shone through from yonder glass,
landed very unflatteringly on your ass.
From here I see each crease and bump,
tilt my head, now you look like a lump.
I must have been drunk, out of mind,
to take you home, I must ‘ave been blind.
The beer made me do it, no longer my friend,
Please don’t wake up and my drinking I’ll end.

Quietly now, up on my toes,
I race round the room to gather my clothes.
You murmur, you grunt, fart and then roll,
Your worse than I thought, with the face of a troll.
Your nose was so big, so fat and so wide,
I believe for a second I may have near cried.
I pick up my shoes and head for the door,
Shit not now, a creaky board on the floor.

You shuffle, you move, the sheet you do lift,
I get a glimpse of you, my stomach contents shift.
Out the door just before dawn,
The grass is wet, there is dew on the lawn.
I call a taxi, but don’t know where I be.
My mates are sure gonna take the piss outta me.
They’ll point and they’ll laugh, they’ll give me such hell,
But for now, just get me home, to scrub of this smell.

So four years had passed since Brian and I was getting that itch again. Another out-of-town business trip, so I thought “why not” and went to CL again. This time I met Brad. He was actually driving through the town I was staying in and wanted to meet up the morning I left. I debated picking up a second guy, but thinking that was too “whore-ish”, I opted for the 24, black hair, blue-eyed, lean cut brad. YUM.

I got up that morning and quickly showered and he was texting me how he was ready to meet. He finally got to the hotel and as soon as he walked through the door his clothes were off. Not sure how it happened so quickly. He looked like a fucking Abercrombie model and he was naked in front of me.

He was quickly peeling of my clothes and then tossed me onto the bed and crawled on top. He put on his condom and went to work. He didn’t have the most impressive cock, but the boy could kiss. He stopped fucking for a moment to go south and give my wet pussy a few licks and then flip me over to my stomach. I raised my ass up to meet his awaiting dick and he pounded away. We flipped back over and went at it from the side of the bed. I knew he wasn’t going to get me to cum, so I faked the orgasm. He soon came and the later asked to cum again on my stomach. We cleaned up, talked music and he left. It was very much a “wham-bam-thank-you-mam” event. I hated it.

I went home feeling like shit. Never had I felt so bad about what I had done. It had been years since my last affair, months since my last fuck with my husband and I was ready to pull the car over and just cry. What was I doing? How had I become this person? I began to hate myself.

I finally opened up to a friend about it and it was liberating. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do – stay the same, have more frequent affairs, quit – but I didn’t feel like an evil asshole after talking to her. How is it that my husband and I can be so liberal and open-minded about everything, but this one subject, and it’s still taboo? I thought it was time for me to really do some soul-searching.

Oh Lance. How did you ever happen? This was my first affair (8 years ago?), and even though I don’t really regret any of them, I think of him as a mistake.

My husband’s private company Christmas party was held at a hotel with only high management staff and their guests allowed to attend since the company flipped the bill for everyone’s hotel room. The whole night we had an open bar at our disposal and this cute little, young thing that was directly below my husband, Lance, was giving me the eye all night. All dressed up in our formal, we’d sit too close with his hand on my knee, but since everyone was drunk, no one seemed to notice, including my husband.

After my husband turned in for the night, I stayed up to party with his colleagues. Lance invited me back to his room where he proceeded to bring out a baggie with a joint. Drunk and high, he asked if my husband would fire him if he kissed me. I don’t remember my answer, but I remember us kissing by an open window and it being freezing cold.

We were soon interrupted by a knock; someone needing Lance for whatever reason. I stayed in his room and laid in his bed fully clothed. He came back, kissed me and the proceeded to tell me that it wasn’t fair how “hard” I made him. I sat up, undid his slacks, pulled out what had to be a 9 inch cock and took it all in. Now Lance is a small guy, 5′7, 150 lbs, tops – the sheer size of his dick shocked and thrilled me.

After blowing him for a couple of minutes, neither of us could take it any longer. He’d had condoms in his wallet and he proceeded to fuck me like I’d never been fucked before. I’d never had that size of a cock inside of me so I could feel it tear, but it felt so good! We ended the night with him titty-fucking me and then cumming on my chest. I cleaned up, went back to my room and never spoke with him again.

Hey Dude,

I’ve done the Friends With Benefits thing, and, to say the least, I’m not cut out for it.  Now I have this amazing guy in my life who I consider my best friend, but I’m confused over how I’m supposed to know if he likes me as in a relationship sense or if he just wants to sleep with me.

He texts me quite often, even if just to say hi or to see what I’m up to, or make sure I’m feeling better when I’m sick.  We’ve gone out before with mutual friends and had a blast.  We’re both more of homebodies, so he comes over to my place now regularly and we hang out.  We’ve made out, but I end it before it goes any further because I don’t want the Friends With Benefits thing to happen.

So, how do I know?!

Thanks,
Confused

Hey Hey Confused,

Tricky situation, but let me Nancy Drew this mystery and break down the facts. First off, the guy wouldn’t text you or care if you’re sick if he just wants to sleep with you. Although texting might seem like a cop-out, in this day and age it’s a perfect vehicle for chatting someone up. Who even uses AIM anymore? Remember those days?

Secondly, it’s really great that you’re not putting out right away. Props. Not only are you protecting yourself and your feelings, but that also proves that he wants something more if he’s sticking around. This has clearly been running it’s course for a while; if he just wanted to get laid he’d have gotten frustrated and given up a long time ago. Guys are simple that way. Sure, we’ll pursue something that we can’t have, but if we’re just looking for a quick lay, there’s not a chance that we’ll text incessantly and baby you if you’re sick.

That sounds like he wants girlfriend material, not a few humps in a twin extra long. And throw a few bonus points to the relationship column if he’s hanging out with you and your friends.

No need to be confused, Confused. It sounds like homeboy is just a bit shy. Maybe you should help him step it up a notch and move the hang-out sessions to your favorite sushi spot instead of your dorm room futon. Or, if he’s not into the whole raw fish thing, you could just have “the talk.” I’m pretty confident he’s feeling the same way you are.

Hope that helps!

– El Dude

[Got a question for Mr. Dude? (And, no, that doesn't include asking him out; homeboy is taken!) Ask it: askthedude@collegecandy.com. He won't sugarcoat it, beat around the bush, or any other weird cliche that means lie to you. He'll be 100% real dude, 100% of the time. So bring it on, ladies.]

When i think of myself before i go out for the night, I’m like this… shiny fat-model type girl. My eye makeup is perfect and my face is matte and beautiful. I’ve got my boobs all up and out. they look like mountains of firm flesh in my expensive bra that matches with my panties and I’ve paid special attention to every part of my body that can be rouged or perfumed. I’m like an angel- all sweetness and light and i feel good about everything in life.

there’s nothing wrong with my life when I’m getting ready to go out. work doesn’t suck and they don’t take advantage of me. i have friends who give a damn about me and i actually want to see them lol

every single thing in life is perfect. perfect until i get drunk.

its when i start drinking that things get crazy. my make-up gets a little Shiny and my perfume starts to smell sticky sweet… and I’m no one’s angel.

ive never considered whether i might be an alcoholic but i dont think i am. I do stupid shit like this when im sober. Its just easier to cope with when im drunk.

i feel beautiful when i leave my house, and i feel especially beautiful when im in his arms and he’s sticking his tongue in my mouth like he’s fishing for a kidney. i wish i could explain how good i feel in those moments… Like some kind of slutty mix of whore and faerie.

it’s when i wake up in the morning with pain that feels like i was stabbed in the vagina that i dont feel beautiful at all and wonder exactly what strain of the crazy virus i must have caught at work. money really is filthy.
but i never remember that horrible empty feeling. i only remember how sexy… How amazing i felt the night before.

i think i must have selective memory. who doesn’t remember how gross it is to kiss a guy with beer breath and that thick spit they have after a night of drinking? apparently me.

I’m not happy with myself right now, and I need to be honest.

I am fat.  LMAO – that’s not what I need to be honest about – I know that.  I’m actually very beautiful, this isn’t about the way I look, it’s about the fact that I’m fat.

In my heart I truly believe no man will ever marry me (read: love and marry) as long as I am fat.  Now I would never say that to any of my friends because they’ll immediately try to make me feel better and coddle me with the ‘O that’s not true!’ and ‘O ur so pretty!’ statements.  I know I’m pretty – that’s not the issue.  The issue is I believe I will never have a long term or meaningful relationship as long as I am big.

Everything I do – and by big, I mean about 75 lbs overweight (I’m short too, so it makes me look even bigger) – is affected by my weight.  It affects how I let people treat me, because I know if I valued myself as I should, I would never take a stranger home from a bar.  I would never let a stranger speak to me in a vulgar way or grab me in a bar.  Never… if I valued myself as I should.

This has been happening for the past 18 months (the whole near-intimacy with strangers thing) and I know exactly what changed – what started me on this journey.  What happened is I was engaged to a man, I miscarried (early), and we had plans to live together (You’ll not hear that story if you ask him though – nope, not at all).  That man left me.  He cheated on me twice in 5 years – both times brought home ghonnorhea – which leads me to believe either he never got treated or did it with the same woman.

He cheated on me once more – but I don’t really count that because we broke up because of the woman.  It’s not her fault, by “because of the woman” I mean that he’d found someone else and was ready to move on. I saw it coming (women who say they don’t see it coming are either obtuse or being deliberately obtuse).  I knew something was wrong with us and so it wasn’t a surprise.  I still wanted to know why, so I asked him what had happened and he told me he’d had a threesome and liked one of the women because she was younger and didn’t want marriage or children and wanted to see where it went.

I think about all the things we went through – especially losing a child… I always wanted a big family and an amazing life – and to have him act like it was totally unimportant… to have him throw me and 5 years away – I had no idea what to do.  So I went crazy LOL.

At that time, I was doing phone sex work – so I’d drink all day, sleep when I wasn’t working, go out to the bar every night, all that crap.  I had no idea what to do because I’d wrapped 100% of myself up in a man – which is thirsty - I have been thirsty… always.  I’ve always let men do whatever they wanted to do as long as they would continue to be around me in some capacity.  So when he left me, I literally started acting crazy.  I was all just broke up/going out/getting drunk/making out with strangers thing – you know?

So I went out and met this guy at a bar and he said he wanted to go home with me, so I said yes.  Turns out he was totally uncool and I’m less and less attracted to him by the minute – but I still decide to do my thing, and during it I realize I’m totally not attracted to him and I fell asleep (read: passed out) and when I woke up a couple of hours later I asked him to leave.

I never saw or heard from him again.  I let him put his fingers in my vagina, but I neglected to get his number.  O boy did I gag on his penis, but I certainly didn’t find out his last name.

*Sighs*  Good gravy marie…

to be continued.

One weekend, I went to a mixer at one of the best frats at my school. They had a huge party coming up and the only way to avoid waiting on long lines is knowing a brother very well, if you know what I mean.

Four (…or five or six) drinks later, I found myself chatting with a slightly creepy and indisputably not-cute guy who claimed to be roommates with one of the coolest, hottest members his pledge class. I figured he was my “in,” my protection from shivering in a line for two hours while my buzz drifted slowly away. So I turned on the charm, laughed at his jokes, touched his arm.

Yet even in my state of inebriation, my creep-dar started bleeping. Something was off about this kid and I couldn’t quite figure out what it was.  I decided to ask him some questions to verify his so-called brotherhood.  Our conversation:

Me: So, you pledged here two years ago?
PB (Pseudo Brother): Oh yeah, you have no idea. Worst year of my life.
Me: What chapter are you guys?
PB: Oh, we’re the Alpha chapter. Totally.
Me: Really? The Alpha chapter? Wow, that’s impressive. What year were you founded?
PB: 1889, baby! Brothers for life!
Me: What college are you in here?
PB: Oh, you know, the one that starts with a C.
Me: The College of Arts and Sciences, the College of Engineering, the College of Agriculture and Life Sciences…
PB: Yeah, yeah, the last one.
Me: What’s your major?
PB: Business.

And it continued from there.  A number of red flags popped up, including the fact that pledging takes place over only one semester at my school, not a year; all the colleges start with a C, and there is no business major in the College of Agriculture and Life Sciences; along with other glaring inconsistencies. However, based on his impressive chapter stats I decided to spend the night with him anyway, images of VIP entry to the upcoming party swimming in my head the entire time.

Early the next morning, I ran to the bathroom and looked him up on Facebook via my Blackberry. To my surprise, he wasn’t mutual friends with any of my friends in his frat. Upon closer inspection, I realized he didn’t have ANY friends at my school, and he wasn’t registered under its network—or any college network! Incredibly skeeved out, I snuck downstairs without waking him up and called a cab.

I sat on a bench (surrounded by empty Natty Light cans) in the fraternity house foyer and waited for my chariot. Looking around I realized I was sitting in the same spot he was sitting in during our conversation the night before, and right in my line of vision was placed a giant plaque that read “Alpha Chapter, Founded 1889.”

So much for impressive chapter stats!

The real kicker? He still texted me about ten times that day, seemingly oblivious that I figured out how creepy he was and ditched him. After I finally answered with a very terse, “Look, I know you don’t go here and I don’t want to see you,” he had the nerve to get mad at ME for “only hooking up with him because I thought he was in a good frat.”

And then he called me a Slore.

I guess I gotta give him some props for pulling that insult out in a serious conversation. Yeah, he’s still the creepiest guy I’ve ever…known, but at least he made me laugh.

[You got a a good "Morning After" story to share? Send it to over and we'll post it (anonymously, of course)! Do it! It can't be worse than crossing borders for booty....]

I’ve been going through several of my Craig’s List options. There are a couple that I want to definitely make the most of.

- Matt & Christy are a cute married couple in their late 20’s and early 30’s. She’s a natural redhead, very busty and he’s lean and cute but in that bookish nerd kind of way – which I am totally attracted too. I’ve never been with a girl at all; not even kissed and I’m totally bi-curious, so I am thinking this could be a lot of fun. To see their photos though, the look like they just left the Republican National Convention, but hey, they say never judge a book by its cover.

- Sage is 29 and kinda short. I like his look though. He’s half Japanese, so the whole “exotic” thing is kinda fun. He has his own place, has a runners body, a master’s degree and says he can be rather shy. All of those are major pluses in my book. We may be hooking up early this week.

- Teach, yeah we’re just going to call him Teach. Teach is a 26-year-old, muscle-bound, special-ed teacher with a gf that can’t host. I think all he wants is a blow job or to get laid in public. I wouldn’t be as intrigued, but he’s ripped, and keep thinking of that ass pounding away at my pussy. Makes me wet!

- Chef, another one we’ll refer to by title. He’s 28. Pretty cute, nice bod and can possibly host at his house during days…major plus!

- Ken the wannabe surfer – or maybe he is one. Body to die for! Face is, eh, but the body of…OH.MY.FUCKING.GOD! He has a serious girlfriend, but they live alone, wants to work out a day when his woman is at work.

- Sugar Daddy. I will call him SD until he proves to be anything else. I’m actually meeting him for coffee tomorrow – Nothing more! He responded saying he’s a few years older, very good-looking, well off, but because of his position he could not exchange photos. He claims to want someone to spoil. I have the feeling this guy is full of shit, but again, meeting him at a little coffee shop tomorrow and we’ll see.

POETRY: One Night Stand by RicoRacer Flux
MODEL: Amber Quinzet
PHOTOGRAPHER: Keltoi Recreant
FASHION:
Underwear – Marylin Green by Angel Dessous
Shoes – Maitreya ChiChi Velvet Green
Hair – Truth

ONE NIGHT STAND

In the hushed overtones of dawn, I know we had great sex last night.
I know it by the look in her eyes,
the smile in her lips,
the way she kisses me afterwards.

In the quiet act of getting dressed, I know she won’t call.
I know it by the look in her eyes,
the smile on her lips,
the way she kisses me afterwards.

In the silence of our departure, I know I mean nothing to her.
I know it by the look in her eyes,
the smile on her lips,
the way she kisses me afterwards.

In the sad serenity of our goodbyes, I know I will soon be forgotten.
I know it by the look in her eyes,
the smile on her lips,
the way she kisses me afterwards.

In the emptiness of my heart, I know I’m just a one night stand.
I know it by the sadness on my eyes,
the forced smile on my lips,
the empty void I feel afterwards.

MODEL INFO: Amber Quinzet
Ive been modelling since June 2009 after being drawn into the world of runway and print by the amazing designers, talented photographers and the fabulous shows put on by the Agencies. Ive worked hard to develop my skills and have trained at some of the best Agencies along the way, Avenue Models Academy, SuperELITE, Evane under Mimmi Boa/Salvo Waydelich and Catalyst of Fantasy.

I am I suppose still relatively new to the business but I’d like to think Im up and coming and I am getting busier everyday. So I’m really starting to see the benefits of all my hard work and training. I currently work for Evane and SW & MB Productions, IMAGE, Catalyst of Fantasy, JSE Modelling, KABUKI, Infinite FOCUS, UNIQUE and Im proud to say recently selected by Agnes FInney to be one of her My Precious Models.

My biggest achievements include, runway model during the Virtual London Fashion Show with UNIQUE for the RL Designer Marie Grachvogel with SL’s Nils Tomorrow, having my picture in the London Evening Standard and Avenue Magazine November and also being a top ten finalist for SuperELITES SuperSearch Mr & Miss Autumn. Both of these were an absolute privilidge to be part of.

Modeling can be exhausting but also so rewarding and I have met some very talented people and made some amazing friends. All of who make the whole experience fantastic. See me in my next show for IMAGE – Gold Finger .

I doubt it, but who knows.

Talking to Brady a couple of days ago, I was feeling really horny and even ready to drive out and see him. I thought it would be over a week before I get the chance to see Devon again, but Brad was a good boy and said he wanted to see what became of he and Lisa first. Sweet, but you’ve already fucked my once, kiddo. Anyway, he suggested I look at Craig’s List and maybe respond to an ad, so I did.

The guy had posted his photos, looking for a date this week. I replied and emailed back and forth and texted until late last night. We couldn’t work things out for this week, but were anticipating dinner, movie and whatever else next week. Well, I decided to call him on my way home from the club I was at, and I’m glad I did. I’m not sure if it was the late hour, or if he’d been drinking, but he sounded like a complete fucking retard. I’m not really sure if I want to go out with him or not now. It’s possible it was a bad night, or he was drunk, but try to make a good impression on a girl who has basically promised you sex! His incoherent ramblings and mutterings were a real turn off. What to do?

Walter Müller war ein typisch deutscher Geschäftsmann, der sein Leben bis ins kleinste Detail kontrollierte. Alles in seinem Leben war von Zeit und Terminen bestimmt, kurzum, seine Sekretärin Christine organisierte seinen Berufsalltag in einer Versicherungsgesellschaft.  Doch das war freilich nicht das Einzige, das sie mit Walter verband. Seit etwa zwei Jahren hatten sie eine leidenschaftliche Affäre – und beide hatten ihre eigenen Gründe für diesen Erotik Flirt: Walter wollte sich von seiner langweiligen Ehe mit Maria ablenken, mit der er seit geraumer Zeit keinen Sex mehr zu haben pflegte, Christine hingegen war berechnend und erhoffte sich durch regelmäßige Sextreffen mit Walter, einen beruflich höher stehenden Rang zu erreichen.  Maria wusste von Walters fortdauerndem Seitensprung mit Christine, sie hatte gelernt,  diese Romanze zu akzeptieren. Wenn sie genau darüber nachdachte, dann konnte sie Walters Verhalten sogar verstehen, denn insgeheim war sie wohl froh, dass sie den „ehelichen Pflichten“ auf diese Art und Weise entgehen konnte. Dennoch hatte auch Maria Sehnsucht nach körperlicher Zuwendung, sie spielte daher mit dem Gedanken, sich einen jüngeren Liebhaber zu suchen.  Christine wünschte sich derweil einen anderweitigen Flirt mit einem aufregenderen Mann als es Walter war, manchmal sehnte sie sich auch nach einem One Night Stand, wie sie ihn früher so oft mit fremden Männern genossen hatte.  Aber sie konnte und wollte Walter noch nicht ganz aufgeben, deshalb beschloss sie, ihn in einem Berliner Sexpartnerclub mitzunehmen, um ihn in ihr erotisches Abenteuer einzubinden.  Doch obwohl Walter mit ihr in den Club ging (aus Angst, sie würde ihn nicht mehr als jugendlich empfinden), konnte er nicht Gefallen daran finden, ein solches Etablissement als Kontaktbörse für sexuelle Abenteuer wahrzunehmen, denn tief im Herzen war Walter spießig und konservativ. So beschloss dieser Abend die Beziehung zwischen ihm und Christine endgültig, so dass er notgedrungen reumütig zu Maria zurückkehren musste.

So about Asian guy. Apparently he is not that into me but is into me a little bit.  i don’t think I’ve talked about Asian guy yet. He’s one of the 5 guys i talked about in the first blog. Actually he was the catalyst for all of it. It wasn’t his fault, it’s my fault for giving him too much too soon. Too much attention, too many compliments, too much importance… just too much in general.

A.G. and I met and hung out last week.  We had a pretty great time that of course ended with me drunk and letting him do his thing… but I talked to him before he ever came here (we live an hour from each other) and said in no uncertain terms that we were not gonna have sex.

Apparently he doubted that.  We started kissing on my porch and he did this thing… Opened that pretty mouth of his really wide and put it over mine then stuck his tongue in and out of my mouth slowly…. Good gravy Marie it was beautiful lol i still think about that kiss. In fact I thought about it while I was with Beard – Almost said A.G.’s name during it. If u can’t tell by now, I very much wanted this guy. Who would think a guy u made jizz in his pants without even touching him wouldn’t want u just as badly? I mean… Im just saying.  So what happened?

To tell the truth, I honestly don’t know. That’s the most bullshit part of the whole thing.  I swear there’s more to come… Just not right now.-

-

-

-

Next Up:  S.14~Asian Guy Pt 2

Kay met Academy while waiting for some military training to start.  They were both assigned to the same working party, and had to spend time together for a week or so.  At first Kay hated Academy, he was too cocky, talked down to other people who had to work with them, and did not really contribute to the group.  Kay thought after the week was over she would never speak to Academy, but this was not the case.

Academy’s birthday was coming up, and he asked Kay to go out with some of his friends to watch a football game.  Kay agreed, and thought that maybe Academy and she would end up being friends.  At the game, Academy got pretty drunk, and Kay had to drive home, the entire time laughing hysterically at what a jerk Academy was.  The next night Kay was out at a local bar, and Academy happened to be there. Now that they were both drunk Kay decided she wanted to hook up with Academy, even though her first, second, and third impressions were not good.  Academy split a cab with Kay and her roommates, and then proceeded to just invite himself in, and went straight to Kay’s room.

When Kay entered the room Academy was already naked in Kay’s bed.  Kay was turned on by his assumption that they were going to have sex so she started stripping quickly.  Academy came off the bed, and when Kay was totally naked pushed her against the wall.  He put her arms over her head, and started to forcefully kiss her.  He then took one of her breasts in his mouth, and started to massage her clit with his free hand.  As soon as Kay started to get wet, Academy flipped her over, and entered her from behind.    No one had ever manhandled Kay like this before, and it slightly turned her on.  Academy then flipped her back over, and pushed her on the bed, taking her left leg and putting it behind his head.  As Kay lay with her right leg dangling off the bed, in a semi uncomfortable position, she realized that Academy did not actually care if she was enjoying herself, he just wanted to come.  He kept thrusting deeper and deeper, not paying any more attention to her, and when he was about to come, he pulled himself deeper inside of her.  Kay tensed her body to give him more friction, because she actually wanted Academy to have a good time, and when he finally released, he actually screamed out his own name. Apparently all guys are pompous assholes.

Photo from Brad the other day to remind me of what I was missing when I told him about Devon

So, I had this post all planned out where I was going to write about being single, not having been kissed in the past two and a half years and such. From that you can see that I’ve had quite a dry spell (three and a half years to be precise). I had all these things in mind, from being frustrated and annoyed with it, lonely at times but liking the independence. Now that I think about it that would have probably turned out be some what of a depressing post.

Anyways, that whole plan went to the dump this past weekend when I apparently decided to have my very first one-night stand. Well actually it just sort of happened; I didn’t plan for it to happen, couldn’t have, even if I would have tried as I am terrible at flirting – just plain awful. But apparently a smile and some eye contact (nothing new there) go a long way (and feeling good in your own skin never hurts).

I’ve always thought (and told a lot of people as at least a partial reason for my dry spell) that one-night-stands aren’t in my nature; that I wouldn’t be able to go through with it and though they were a complete waste of time and energy as I wouldn’t be able to relax enough to actually enjoy it. Clearly, I was wrong (partly at least). Though I think they can be a lot of fun, one shouldn’t go in expecting much (especially expecting to be completely satisfied will very likely result in disappointment; like singing a duet – it’s hard to get it just right the first time). So hope for the best, but expect the worst (but then that’s true for pretty much everything).

The whole situation felt a bit weird after such a long time (by yourself you get used to things going a certain way). I had trouble shutting my brain down. And it didn’t help at all when I found out that the guy was (and still is) three years younger than I (I would prefer it to be the other way around). I feel like such a cradle robber, oh well; at least we were born in the same decade (barely but still).

It might have had something to do with me being in my head too much (as usual), but expecting the worst paid off. I don’t mean to be mean but if you are given a free lesson (or at least some guidance) you might want to take the hint (especially when the hint is as subtle as “do this now”). Is that so much to ask? But then those things can be learned. Practice makes perfect and so on. Genes, however, you’re stuck with.

There has always been a lot of talk abut size. The politically correct answer to this subject would be “no, it does not matter”, but hell yeah it does! It’s like a puzzle: you want to find the right fit. Of course, in the end it’s about whether or not you know what you’re doing and making the best out of what you’ve been given. And that’s true for both sexes. People seem to every now and again forget that it is a two-way street and guys end up getting the blame.

I’m clearly not an expert on the subject. There’s only so much I can say from experience (the longer it has been the less you remember – I had totally forgotten for example how much I love kissing). As a result of my dry spell, I read a lot of books on the subject (I love Belle de Jour’s books and just finished one on the history of the Kama Sutra) so at least it has in a way been fresh in my mind (not that I have needed the books that much, eventually your brain just goes into overdrive).

On Sunday I had some trouble wrapping my brain around what had just happened. I didn’t regret it and still don’t. It’s just that finding out something new about yourself can take some getting used to. So, tired and trying to avoid school work (which I finally finished with three minutes to spare), I spend most of the day on the Internet and found this. Reading through it, I realized that I had followed pretty much none of those rules (the only exception was the part on safe sex). But anyways, I lucked out as neither of us wanted it to be anything more than it was (the age difference bothers me way too much for him to be a boyfriend candidate). Those conversations the etiquette suggests to have might be awkward to start/have but in the end I think they’ll pay off.

So the part of this that’s really crazy is – the couple who were leaving and I enticed them to stay and drink with us for a while – I completely forgot about them until the next Monday when I was at work.  I thought a new client had come in, but oddly enough, it was the male half of the couple.  Turns out he’s our delivery man.  Weird, I know.

He lights up! when he sees me and he says “Omg well hi Annie!” and I’m in my head saying “Well hi… weirdo?” but I smile and say “Hey buddy! How are you?” Which leads to a bunch of chitting and chatting and us having a generally good time for about two hours.  He doesn’t have a clock and I never have any real work to do.  He goes out with me on a smoke break and he says “Well can I come back later and pick up the order forms?”

Of course I said yes.  I always say yes.

So He comes back at 7:30 and it’s dark – winter is coming – and he wants to talk.  He tells me that the woman who I thought was his wife is actually his girlfriend.  I find that interesting as they have 5 children – two of which are his.  The other 3 are by three different men.  I tell him they should facebook me and he makes a face like he has to poo.  I ask if he’s a myspacer or -ack – a tweeter instead of FB and he says “We don’t have a computer… it doesn’t do good things for us.”

I immediately make a frown and say “Porn?”  He says “Worse.”  I say, “You cheated?”  He says, “Nope.”  I say, “She cheated?” He says, “Three times.”

We start talking and at some point he says, “Would it be so bad for me to cheat on her?  She did it to me.”  and I know exactly what he’s getting at.  He wants to fuck me.  So many of them do – I can almost smell it on them like cologne.

During our conversation, he tells me that she is so jealous that she has stalked women she thought he was interested in – that she’s been violent before, and immediately I know even if he was single, nothing would happen between us.  That type of crazy just isn’t my style.

So weeks pass, we don’t talk at all, none of us – except for the occasional stupid forwarded text from her.  Then yesterday out of the blue he texts me, D-Man, we’ll call him.  D-Man texts me and says “So about your birthday party (which is coming up), what kind of present should I get you, and will I be getting raped afterward at your house?”  I tell him “Uh… something expensive and no.”

He immediately responds and says “Well since I’m not getting raped, let me know what day it is so I can make sure not to be there.”  I tell him “You better be there and you better bring your wife too.”  I consistently refer to her by either her name or the pronoun Your Wife just to keep things in line.  He says, “But I don’t want to bring her, I want to be with you that night.”

Crazy, his wife, she’s like 5′10” and maybe a buck 20.  The chick is a butterface with a great body and a nice enough personality.  But he hates her.  Literally, he’s been emasculated by her and feels trapped because she has two children with him.  He hates every minute of being around her – he says.  But let me say this – if it was bad enough, he wouldn’t be there.  He’s still sleeping with her at night – they’re still fucking – He’s still supporting her while she’s in school.  He can say he hates her all he wants, but I’m not an idiot.

So he is texting me about how much he wants to be with me and I know it’s leading to a bad spot so I regulate and get it straight.  My text says something like, “Look, ur rly cute n if u wer sngle, id b all about tht, bt ur not. i dnt fck married men.”  The next text: “& i dnt apprci8e u tryng 2 use me 2 get back @ her bcos ur mad @ her rite now.  uncool.  get it 2gether.”  The last text: “U wanna b my friend, b my friend. but im not fckng u – ever. it will never happen baby. ever.”

That’s clear, isn’t it?  I think the only clearer thing I could have said was “SHUT UP BITCH, I DON’T WANT YOUR DICK.” But I’m much too classy for that language.  LOL!

So he texts me this morning and says “Annie do u live alone?”
Me:  Yep, y?
Him: Maybe I can come over 2night n say hi? LOL
Me: Ur welcome 2 cme ovr n say hi, y dont u bring ur wife w/ u?
Him: No I wanna come by myself.
Me: Thats fine, we’ll sit outside n smoke.
Him: U wont let me come in?
Me: Nah.

How much clearer can I get?  Apparently I needed to get a lot clearer because 2 hours later I get a text: “I can’t do this. I don’t wanna b that guy. I have 2 believe she won’t cheat on me. I”m a pussy.”

I return a text that says “What the hell are you talking about?  Did you think you were gonna fuck me?  How do I make it any clearer to you?  We’re friends.  That’s it. Really.”

I get no response.  Around 8 I send a text that says “D-Man, did you get my text?”
Him: Yeah, I’m @ home.
Me: O… K.  So u can’t respond?
Him: No, texting is cheating.
Me: uhm… latez.

Seriously?  That brand of crazy between him and his wife is just one I can’t get with.

The thing that makes me most angry about it is he really was using me – even though I said it in the beginning and he denied it.  Even though we didn’t have sex, the point is he finally got some attention from a woman that he doesn’t get at home – and that had him flying high.  I mean… when a chick tells you she’s never… NEVER going to have sex with you and you somehow still think she’s trying to have sex with you….

That’s a brand name I never want to have in my home.  Crazy: It’s always around somewhere.

-

-

-

-Next Up:  S.13 – Orientals.