NOT SO SHRIMP DICK!

It never ceases to amaze me how one person can spend almost their entire life with someone and still learn new things about them every day.

It’s been almost 20 years of entanglement with my long-standing on-again, off-again partner O. We officially met on a sunny afternoon shortly after I turned 18. I’d notice him checking me out over the past four years since I moved to 1st Avenue, but my intense tunnel vision had kept our paths from crossing until one fateful afternoon. He caught me just as I was waiting for the light to change; he complimented me, introduced himself, asked for my number, and the rest was history. It’s been over 17 years, and no matter how much time passes from one hook up or boyfriend to the next, he never ceases to amaze me. He’s always been supportive, encouraging, occasional ball-buster, a great voice of reason, and a great partner.

Because I only recently moved into my own place, all our encounters over the years had been brief and at his place. It was a breath of fresh air to finally not have to get up and leave after sex. I could just sit back and relax after I locked the door and sent him on his way. Oh! How I love watching a man leave.

One day he was over my place, and I told him that I’d invite him over for dinner one night, since I’d never cooked for him, and he didn’t make it to my housewarming (despite being the 1st person to get me a gift). Going over the foods he liked and disliked, he said he didn’t eat shrimp because he was allergic, and I was flabbergasted. He swore up and down that he had told me before, and I just didn’t remember. But being a radical seafood lover (especially when it came to shrimp, and over the past 5 years – oysters), I could’ve sworn I would’ve remembered a detail such as that. God, forbid I see him after a visit to City Island (true New Yorkers know what I’m talking about), his life would be over. From that moment, I put it in my mental Rolodex that he was allergic to shrimp and to be careful when I invited him over in the future. I just didn’t think that the future would be so soon.

On a dull Friday afternoon, he called me when he got home from work and asked me what I was doing; I told him I was eating a salad. He joked about me finally getting on my fitness shit, and he told me he would come to see me. It was then that I told him I was eating a shrimp Caesar salad, and as bomb as my pussy was, I didn’t want him to die from a kiss. He said he didn’t care and that he was on his way. As he hung up the phone, I reminded him that it also meant I couldn’t suck his dick. He replied that he’d rather his dick swell up than his throat close up. Men?!?!

I finished my salad, swallowed some warm water, then used some mouthwash, and in less than 20 minutes, he was at my door. 

He pushed my body up against the counter in my kitchen, pulled open my robe, and began licking, teasing, and biting my nipples. Maybe the risk of anaphylactic shock inspired him to be more aggressive because this was a new man in the new year. Quite abruptly, after he got his fill, he stopped, went into my living room, and he had the nerve to sit in my spot. I straddled his hips as he went back to licking and sucking my nipples. I avoided his lips until he pulled my face to his, and we kissed deeply. I ran my tongue along his neck and ears when he started to indicate that I had touched a nerve. Enjoying his reaction, I continued flicking my tongue into his (very clean) ear until he had enough. I sucked at his nipples, kissed down his chest, licked at his navel, and I made my way to his long thick dick. When I pulled his pants down, his dick stood at attention, like it was waiting for me, or better yet, my mouth. 

I started on him slowly; I swirled my tongue around his tip, then I licked up and down his shaft, and then I took him into my mouth. His moans and squirms confirmed that I was doing a fantastic job pleasing him, and if he walked home with a swollen dick, he’d be happy. I rode him on the sofa until he came with perfect timing, and I continued to ride him until he resurrected. 

He said he wanted to fuck me on my bed. To be honest, I didn’t want to as my new faux fur bed set was white. I swiftly threw down my wet blanket (a microfiber blanket I ordered from amazon to protect my sheets when I squirt), and we got to business. We kissed passionately as he thrust into me repeatedly until he came. When it was all done, there was a bit of blood from my period breaking through (he didn’t mind, though). He was a little lightheaded as it had been years since we had sex back-to-back. He hit his leg on the platform of my bed, got dressed, fell on his way home, and called me to say I put a curse on him. 

I ensured him putting a curse on him was the farthest thing on my mind. I only wanted to avoid giving him shrimp dick.  

2021, WHEW! IT’S BEEN QUITE A YEAR!

First, I want to apologize to all my readers for not being consistent. I know I ain’t shit, and I must do better. With so many new and positive things to talk about in 2022, I plan to give you non-stop me. Forewarning, the content going forward won’t be as juicy as it once was. Not only has pandemic dating proven to be an extremely unenjoyable pain in my ass; I just don’t care to invest time into the bullshit anymore. A bitch finally got smart and knows when her time is being wasted and she (meaning me) won’t do it anymore. But trust and believe I will find a way to keep you entertained no less.

Now, for 2021, a lot has happened so let me catch you up.

Obviously, we all ushered in the New Year during a pandemic. I was lucky enough to spend it with my family and partner for the second year in a row. I was looking forward to enjoying 2021 with blind optimism, but by March I was unfortunately laid-off. To be honest, I was more pissed that I was laid off in 2021 (you know when the government had stopped giving the extra $600 per unemployment check). If I had been laid off at the beginning of the pandemic, I would’ve racked up. But no; my company kept some of us employed and dropped our salaries by 50%. When I tried to file for partial unemployment, I couldn’t get it because I was – you guessed it – still employed. 

Anyway, I wasn’t without a job for too long. In April the fashion Gods saw fit to shine down on me and bless me with a new company and all my autopay-bill prayers were answered. Have you ever started a job and knew on week one it wasn’t for you? Well, that was me every single week for the first 6 weeks. 

I went in for the interview on Tuesday, was emailed on Saturday morning (while I was away visiting my family), and asked to turn around a project for Monday. Luckily, I had my laptop, so I threw together a project and had it done for Tuesday when I got back to the city. I went in for the interview, was hired on the spot, and was assigned my position in Hades. I could feel the job draining me of my happiness with every project we were asked to do. No longer was one lunch cocktail enough, somedays I needed two! Every week I thought about quitting. And for a solid month, my blood pressure was dangerously high. 

Luckily, I had planned a trip to Jamaica with my friends that was a much-needed break from the shit storm. Jamaica was a fun time in the sun. I very briefly enjoyed a one-night-stand with a local that worked at the hotel (and when I say brief- I mean brief!) At least I checked that off the list. I tried an edible, and after feeling like I was in the sunken place, decided to keep my vices to alcohol and sex. I got amazingly drunk every day, masturbated nightly (and sometimes daily), got burned sitting by the pool, and transformed into a shedding snake by the time I got back to NYC and back to Hell.

Back from vacation, I pushed through the day-to-day, week to week. We worked from home on Fridays, so after our 10 am zoom, if there was no project to work on, I took full advantage and did absolutely nothing. This pattern sufficed for a while then, just as I was beginning to feel overwhelmed again, my friends were planning a trip to Covidtown, USA (Miami, FL). Needing to get out of hell and fly into dodge, I resurrected the dead. 

You see, my biological father passed away in October 2020, when I was with my previous company. I never speak on the living in such a manner, but there’s nothing wrong with stating a fact. I told them my father passed away and that the funeral services were down south (all of which, technically did happen – just not when I said it did).

As luck would have it, I was approved for my apartment a week before I left for Miami. I got my keys on Friday, measured the space, went shopping for paint and ordered my furniture over the weekend, and prepped for my trip the rest of the week.

Miami was amazing and the company I was with made it that much more enjoyable. Drinks, kissing random women at murky-water pool parties, long summer strolls, dinner at the Versace Mansion, oysters on the beach, walking around half-naked, and masturbating daily; Miami was all that I hoped it would be. 

When I finally got back, it was time for me to set up home. Every night, after work, I came home and painted my apartment. Every day while I was at work, my mom sat in my apartment to monitor all the repairs that needed to be done (Boy! There were a lot of repairs). But, teamwork makes the dream work, and with my building maintenance getting very familiar and annoyed with my face things finally came together. I put a significant dent in my credit score furnishing my apartment, but I can honestly say when I wake up in the morning and come home at night, I couldn’t be happier with what I see. 

With everything finally set up, I hosted two separate housewarming parties. I finally made fried chicken wings and macaroni & cheese (Black Card intact!!!) And all the things I couldn’t buy, my guests came all the way through. Two weeks later, I was finally able to host my first ever Friendsgiving, with a handful of my friends passing out on my sofa. And after hosting three separate events, cooking, and cleaning, I’m good for a while (LOL!).

2021 was winding down to be a good year, then alone time took on a whole new meaning and necessity. When they say “don’t will certain things into existence” they fucking mean it. 

I only lied about being sick on Wednesday so I could have off on Thursday to work on a project for an interview on Friday. I took a random covid test on Wednesday (just for shits-n-giggles), that came back negative, so I thought I was in the clear. When I woke up on Thursday feeling a bit off, I didn’t think much of it; but, by Thursday night and Friday morning it was obvious I was sick. I got an at-home test from one of my friends and it was positive for Covid (Just my luck!) Not wanting to fully F-up my holiday plans I decided to wait in the cold for yet another official PCR test and on Monday those results concluded that I did have Covid. 

Thankfully there is a silver lining to the madness. Since I do now live alone, I’m no risk to my family or friends. Door Dash and Amazon have been a saving grace. And with today’s visual options, I have plenty to watch. I did want to indulge in a bit of alone time in my new place, and I guess this is how fate saw fit to finally sit me down. I still hope to bring in the new year with my family and friends. So, I’m wishing for a negative test in time. 

Here’s to 2022… may I have a new job and bring it in Covid Free.

See you all in the new year. 

I NEVER SAID NOTHING ABOUT ANYTHING ELSE

From Behind The Glitter Curtain: An Erotic Memoir is Available on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and AppleBooks

Ever since I made my profiles public to allow more people to find my blog and book, I’ve received a flood of friend requests from strangers. For the past three years, I’ve found myself blocking the variety of faces that came across either my phone or computer screen. So, it would only make sense that when a good-looking Latin man passed my screen in the middle of a pandemic, that I follow him back.

He came across my Facebook feed, and since I thought he was attractive, I accepted his friend request. He seemed nice, was a trainer, and expressed some interest in getting to know me. The conversation was light to start. It had been my experience that most of the men who contacted me via social media apps rarely ever had friendly intentions. So, to avoid the merry-go-round, I told him that I was polyamorous when we neared the topic of sexual attraction. Not too long after my admission, our communication took a slight decline and pivot. He expressed his desire for an affectionate partner and possibly more than a friend with benefits. He also made it clear that he was the type to re-act, never make the first move.

A week later, and out of the blue, he messaged me and asked me if I wanted to meet him and go to a park. It was around 10 pm, I had just walked into my house, so I figured I’d go back out to meet him. While at the kitchen table, waiting for him to let me know when he arrived at my building, we communicated back and forth. This would be my first time meeting someone brand-new in a pandemic, and he seemed nice, but I wasn’t sure of his motives yet. So, because it was the booty-call hour, I blatantly told him he’s not fucking me in his car. He replied, “I said nothing about having sex.” (You didn’t have to – but ok!) I’ll play along.

He arrived downstairs; I went down to meet him then we went to a park along the water in Long Island City. The weather was warm earlier that day, but it got pretty cold when the sun had gone down. He parked the car, and we started to walk along the path by the water. We walk side by side, then something comes over me, and I lock my arm with his. With our arms locked together, a current begins to buzz between our bodies. We eventually decide to have a seat and start to talk. 

At first, I sat beside him, and then I tested the waters by sitting on his lap. He had expressed that physical touch was like fuel to a flame, so I knew what my actions would do to him. I sat on his lap, and we began kissing. His kiss was new and exciting. His hands started to roam my ass and breasts as he pulled me in closer to kiss him deeper, then he slowed down, then stopped. We began kissing again; then, I repositioned myself to straddle him as we faced each other. We kissed harder, his hands retraced their previously traveled path of my body, then he pulled one nipple out and licked around my piercings. He then switched to the other (you know- so it wouldn’t feel left out). I begin caressing his dick through his pants, and we continue deep kissing until I pull his dick out and begin to circle his head with the thumb using his pre-cum as lubrication.

I dip my head in between his legs to lick the tip of his dick, and I begin to suck. The anxiety of people passing by and the possibility of getting caught pushes us to move off the path. We spot some benches in the dark.

Once seated, I sit beside him. We start kissing, and I get a strong urge to have him in my mouth. I first suck his dick as I’m seated beside him. But, I eventually want a better position, so I go on my knees in between his legs. He has a nice-sized dick, and his girth is perfectly thick. When I gag on his dick, it gets more sloppy. He’s pulling and pushing my head to look up at him as he’s fucking my face. I pull out my vesper vibrating (crave) necklace and place it on his balls to add to the sensation of my sucking until he cums, and I keep sucking until he goes noodle limp and pushes me away.

I sit back next to him, and we start talking again. The audacity of my performance arouses me, and I decide to get myself off with my vibrator. Luckily I have on leggings, so as I’m sitting next to him, I place my vibrator on my already wet clit. He’s watching me get myself off, and I tell him he needs to kiss me. With my vibrator on my clit, his hand around my neck, and tongue down my throat, my organism rises. He gently slaps my face; then I tell him to do it harder. He applies more pressure to my throat, and I cum with his lips on mine.

After my orgasm, we go back to talking (like I didn’t just suck his dick and have an orgasm). Not long after, we begin kissing again. I get the second desire to suck him off once more. —Refractory Period Over. I don’t waste time this round. I immediately get in between his legs on my knees and go to town. Up and down his shaft, I swirl around the head of his penis, and I gently suck his balls. He’s sexy talking to me the entire time (“I love that, keep sucking my dick, make it sloppier, gag on it, look at me”). I loved every second of it. When he began reaching his peak, he told me he was about to cum, and I kept on sucking until he finished. 

When I finished, he said, “I don’t know if you like sucking dick or just my dick.” I replied, “a little bit of both.” But, it wasn’t just his dick; it was the atmosphere, the newness, the rush of adrenaline, and the fact that I controlled all that happened. There were no expectations once I hopped in his car. I took the wheel and control. We talked for a little bit longer, then we walked back to his car, and he drove me home.

I said he was not fucking me in his car. I said nothing about anything else outside of his car. LOL!

COMPLEX ASS INDIVIDUAL

2019 was a fantastic year for my new-found and lived identity. From three romantic partners and amazing sexual encounters, I explored more of my sexuality, mentality, and emotions.

In this everchanging society of sexualities and titles, the world can become a very confusing place. It took me years to finally accept my desire for women, but I still struggle with my attraction level for the women I find myself attracted to. I still desire intimate connections with women, but not in the same way I do with men. As long as he looks good and has a nice penis, I can be sexual with men. However, when it comes to women, physical attraction is just the tip of the iceberg.

A few years ago, I had my first intimate encounter with a woman during a threesome with her male partner. Because of them, I was instantly spoiled.  After them, I tried and failed miserably to re-encounter a couple of their magnitude, attractiveness, and desire to please but was disappointed.

A few times, many of my male partners tried to encourage me to join them in a threesome with a female companion of their choosing, and quite a few times, I’ve had to shut it down. It seems that no matter how many times I say it, many men seem to think that my bisexuality is for their pleasure. It is not. I have no desire to be intimate with a bi-curious woman. I could be with a woman who is not bi-romantic, but I prefer a woman that enjoys pussy as much as I do. In addition to that, I want a woman that I can vibe with outside of the bedroom. Because sex is always better when there is a genuine connection.

A woman that I can talk to and build a bond with is what I desire, not just a chick I can fuck.

***

For much of my adult life, dating was a complicated dance routine. The act of dating was fine, but once I found myself in a relationship, I struggled for my identity. Make no mistake, I love(d) being with my partner(s), and I revel in the private moments we share. However, the issue always came when I had to juggle we time for me time.

I love being by myself. I love going for long walks while listening to a podcast. I love laying in bed, legs crossed, tossing and turning under my covers without a care in my dreams. I love sitting at home watching TV or in front of my laptop writing without any distractions. I love making last-minute decisions to go out and grab a drink or dinner. I love moving at my own speed, not taking into account anyone else’s schedule, and doing what I want when I want.

For years, I didn’t have the language for what I was and how I felt. Then I happened across an article that described me to a tee, and it concluded that my traits are of someone who’s solo-poly. I’ve made the statement in previous posts. But my happiness, peace of mind, and satisfaction will always be my highest priority. I will consider the feelings of my partner(s), but if they affect me in a less than desirable way, I make the best decision for myself to dismiss them. Growing up monogamous and living my solo-poly truth is a constant juggling act to stay true to myself, but I think I make it work.

***

I have always been temperamental when it comes to sex. Don’t get me wrong; I love sex. I just don’t love sex all the time. Over the past year, my desire for sex has been a dysfunctional rollercoaster, in constant need of repair. With the pandemic, my career, stress about my book, my current living situation, how that impacts everything, and a future that is extremely unclear and forever changing, my sex drive has been in and out of focus.

I heard about the term asexual, and for a while and I thought that couldn’t be me because I like sex. Once again, after another article clarified that asexuality could come and go based on what was going on in someone’s life, I realized that I had always experienced bouts of asexuality; I just called it a reset. But asexuality is not a choice. It’s something that you feel (or don’t feel) that you don’t necessarily have control over how or when it happens or impacts your life.

I’m a sexual being; I simply don’t always feel like being sexual. I can and have gone months without sex and didn’t miss it. Keep in mind, being a quasi-asexual and bisexual woman with multiple partners can be a lot to juggle from time to time. There have been times I’ve needed to amp myself up, be it at parties or in my relationships. And there’ve been times where I’ve wanted nothing more than to be sprawled open and penetrated repeatedly. I’m all over the place. I know! LOL!

***

I’ve always declared that I was a complex-ass-individual. Hence why living and being polyamorous fits me. One minute I’m hot, the next I’m cold. Being and living poly allows both my partners and me to get the best parts of each other and be fulfilled without sacrificing the relationship. Because of that, my partners have the free-ethical ability to fill their buckets of desire whenever I am not in the mood or head-space to do it, and vice versa. One may love steak, but everyone once in a while, you want chicken.

FEEL THE VIBRATIONS

There was a period when it was challenging for me to sleep. I would lay in bed, tossing and turning for hours, then a few hours before the sun was to come up, would I finally go to sleep. This was my hell for many years until I found my battery-operated melatonin. VIBRATORS.

There’s nothing I love more than moisturizing my skin after a nice hot shower, getting under my covers, and riding an orgasm to Slumber Land. Who needs sheep when you have an outlet? Or, in the case, with many of my toys, a USB port? I love masturbating. It’s liberating and a much-needed release after a long week, day, or morning.

Over the summer, I finally purchased the vibrating necklace I had been eyeing for over a year. I was concerned that it wouldn’t do the trick, as I was so used to my Womanizer. But, I bit the bullet and left The Pleasure Chest with my Crave brand Vesper vibrating necklace. Feeling excited about my purchase, I decided to take it for a spin. The only issue was, it would be another few hours before I got home. Then I thought to myself, it’s a Vibrating Necklace that’s meant to be used on the fly. So, that’s precisely what I did.

I went into the bathroom of the restaurant I planned to dine at, I washed my hands and the vibrator, and I went into the stall to see if it was worth the money. It took me a minute, but once I found the perfect spot and the vibrator warmed up (literally), it wasn’t long before I was clutching at my breasts and had my orgasm. Money well spent!

The next day, I wore my necklace, and I got so many compliments. Seeing the look on people’s faces when I told them what it really was, was the icing on the cake. For those ‘in the know,” we shared a sexual bond on a higher level. But, to the outside world, it was a silver necklace.

I decided to wear my necklace to a sex party, and the response couldn’t have been better. As my lips wrapped around my partner’s length, I turned on my vibrator and let the metal rest on his balls. My head always made men squirm, pair that with the stimulation on his balls; it was an orgasm on another level. My necklace had become my secret weapon. But, I learned very early on that for some partners, it was too great a sensation. 

***

I have a partner that I’ve been fucking for over 15 years. He was in my life pre-herpes, and I continue to link up with him from time to time. He’s conveniently close and has a fantastic dick. The only problem is he often comes a little too quick for me. When I had a gang of dudes in and out of the box during my early years, I never noticed how bad it was. But as my options decreased, I realized the dilemma I was in. 

One early fall afternoon, he caught me walking by, and our conversation led to me going back to his place. It just so happened I originally had plans to see another partner when I left my house, but within a block, he had canceled. And since I was feeling frisky, I decided to take my old faithful up on his offer. 

With my mouth going in and my vibrator on his balls, it only took a few moments before he was at his peak. Not wanting to waste the moment, I immediately threw a condom on him so I could, in the very least, get some dick action. I whipped out my wand to aid in getting me there, but my battery died, then was done. It was then that I made the commitment to always keep my toys charged. 

The last time I saw him, it was in the middle of the night. A casual phone call led to, “come over,” so I went, with all my toys fully charged. 

When I got there, we chatted, watched a few movies, then we started kissing. For some reason, I was in the mood for anal. But as he’s not the ‘warm a girl up’ type, when he tried to stick it in my ass after I sucked his dick, my booty-hole clenched up tighter than Arthur’s fist meme. NOPE! Not today, Satan! So, he swapped out the condom then we fucked missionary. 

I always preferred him doggy-style. His dick was just the right amount of pained-pleasure I’d grown to love. But, he loved missionary. Knowing that it would be over before it started, I pulled out my wand and placed it on my clit. Only, it got him more aroused than me. By the time he finished telling me to take it off because it would make him come fast, he had already arrived. I was close, so I pulled him near to suck his dick as I reached my orgasm. When It finally happened, my night was complete. 

***

For Thanksgiving, my guy and I enjoyed a sex-fest weekend. And happily, for us, my wand was the star. During our 3rd or 4th round of sex, we were fucking missionary, and wanting extra sensation, I used my wand. As he was pounding into me, I could feel my lower muscles clenching up, my breathing quickened, and then I erupted. I squirted so hard that I pushed him out to ride the wave of my orgasm. When I was done, I dropped my wand, and he re-entered me until he was done. 

To think, there was a time in my life when the only thing I bought into the bedroom was lube and condoms. It’s such a far picture when I look at the growth of my sexuality and how comfortable I am with everything I do. When I finally move, I hope to have a chest full of sex toys to continue my sexual journey. Until then, I’ll continue to feel the vibrations.