I MAKE MY BAD DECISIONS SOBER

For as long as I can remember, I never loved the feeling of being drunk. Don’t get me wrong, I love a good margarita with my Mexican, or bottomless mimosas during brunch. But when it comes to getting drunk, it’s just not my thing; I prefer to get nice. Because I don’t get drunk, I can never use the excuse, ‘I was so drunk, I can’t remember’ line. This means I have the unfortunate responsibility of having to playback, in excruciating detail, all the events of a drunken night with friends, or a day of drinking that ended up in a fight.  

Don’t get me wrong, I’m no goody-two-shoes. I’ve thrown up across tables, fell asleep in bathroom stalls, and in many clubs. But, like an elephant, I remember everything that happened leading up to the moment I fall asleep. I can recall the exact sip that put me over the edge. On a drunken birthday, I remember picking up dollars from the floor and handing them to the strippers on stage. I remember waiting on line to use the bathroom, then falling asleep on the toilet. I remember the bathroom attendant looking over the top of the stall to make sure I was alive. And I remember my friends escorting me back to my section and letting me go to sleep. I woke up when the ship docked.  

I used to envy those people that blacked out, for the sole reason of zero accountability. I always saw the ‘too drunk to remember line’ as a cop-out or an excuse to do fucked up shit and get away with it. –” I’m sorry I slept with you best friend; I was drunk.” — I wished that I could fuck up majorly and, like Jamie Foxx, blame it on the alcohol, but I couldn’t. For a while, I envied those people; Then, when I started attending sex parties, I learned to love my ability to remember.   

If you’ve never been to a sex-club or swinger party, they’re always BYOB. To my very first party, I brought a bottle of Bacardi Coconut Rum. I had the bar-lady mix it with pineapple juice, took a few sips, and then scoped out the room. The liquid massage the rum offered my body, was just the right amount of relaxation I wanted and needed. I engaged in some great conversations, ate some pussy, sucked some dick, was in a threesome, and rode a man’s face. And the only reason I remember every detail of that night was because I was sober.   

When I started attending LS (Lifestyle) parties regularly, less and less alcohol was needed. For starters, attending parties with a guaranteed partner removed a lot of pressure. And since I screened my partners before the party, I had an assortment of dicks ready to please me. Secondly, with the right amount of people, the party jumped off rather quickly, and with everyone having a good time, a drink to loosen up wasn’t necessary. That high school dance feeling of, waiting for other couples to dance, did not exist. I was extremely comfortable being one of the first couples to start things off. Lastly, I wanted to be in total control of whatever happened throughout the night. I need to know what titty I’m licking, dick I’m sucking, pussy I’m eating, and whose dick is fucking me. In a room full of bodies and chaos, I need to have control; and I couldn’t have that if I was too far gone. Would I recognize the person a few days later, while walking down the street? –Of course not! But, at that moment, I knew that every decision I made was mine, and that was all that mattered.   

In addition to wanting to have that control, I wanted to be able to remember how it all felt. I wanted to remember the kiss on my partner’s lips when he sees the outfit I changed into. I wanted to remember the feeling of my lingerie against my skin. I wanted to remember the feeling of eyes on me. I wanted to remember my partner kissing me, then laying me down on the mattress, and removing my panties to devour my pussy. I wanted to remember the weight of other bodies on the bed. I wanted to remember the feeling of tangled limbs and hands caressing my legs in the air. I wanted to remember the feeling of my toes and nipples being sucked and licked. I wanted to remember the feeling of a veiny dick in my mouth as my partner devoured my pussy into a screaming orgasm. I wanted to remember the moment he turned me over to fuck me. I wanted to remember the smell of the pussy I bend over to eat and the feeling of her breasts in my hands. I wanted to remember his hands around my throat, restricting my airway as he rammed my pussy and found his orgasm. And, in the end, I wanted to remember him pulling me back to kiss my lips once he reached his orgasm.  

I make all of my bad decisions sober because I want to be in control, and I want to be able to recall the memories of each encounter. I want to remember the feelings of inhibitions lost and lust that enveloped the room. I may forget the names and faces, but that intoxicating feeling will stay with me forever, all because I make my decision sober.   

CORSET. COLLAR. LINGERIE. (Part 1)

I can’t believe I’ve been doing this for over a year… HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY TO TALESOFTONEY.COM I wanted to give a Thank You to all my followers, and the people who read my blog. This post is my birthday present to you, for sticking with me. And, I hope you continue to follow me on this journey.

New Year! New Perspective! New Experiences!

CORSET Part 1 

I walked into club armed with my handmade “HERPES +” necklace and “HERPES WARRIOR” bracelet. I decided to make my dress for the occasion; it was black, short & tight. I purposefully installed a front 2-way (top or bottom) opening zipper, easier access, if the evening took a turn for the better. Underneath I wore a corset that snatched my breath and waist away and pushed by breast up to my eyeballs. I looked and felt like sex.  

I had entered the party with the hopes of getting frisky but considering my herpes positive status I didn’t want to be too presumptuous. The club was more like a lounge, so I sat down at the bar. I chatted with the bartender that was willing to answer any question I asked her (as she has been part of the lifestyle for over a decade, she was very friendly and informative). I took the opportunity of my extremely early arrival to take a look around. There were a few male stragglers (none of which I was attracted to) and a few females enjoying hookah. I ascended the death-trap stairs and entered the “NO CELL PHONE” zone. Upstairs there was porn on the walls, 3 private rooms, a couple’s room, a group room, and a 6-person shower (I imagined on a busy night, that would be an enticingly sexy scene). After I got the lay of the land, l went back downstairs- ecstatic I made it without twisting an ankle. (I could imagine drunken women tumbling down the stairs on a regular occasion; but luckily since no phones could be out, they would only be haunted in their memories. I returned to the bar, and continued to sip my tequila (BYOB) and pineapple as I continued to observe the entering crowd.  

Couples had started to arrive; some were dressed in casual attire, while others were dressed to play. Many men wore jeans and t-shirts; while, women donned lingerie, body suits, or like me- dresses that left little to the imagination. My first conversation was with an Indian man, who was in a very sour mood. He told me he had attended on Valentine’s Day, but because he got too drunk, he was banned from bringing alcohol in the future. He complained that couples and some party-goers were racist. This, I thought was interesting, considering the fact that I made my decision to attend this particular venue because I heard the patrons looked more like me. I didn’t want to feel like the last kid picked for the team so I wanted to go to a place where my body type would be idolized vs demonized. He was kind of draining my energy so I was happy when he snuck out to drink from the liquor he had in his car.  

The next man I spoke to, we’ll call him Latch, was much more positive. He was heavy into the life with his ex but was inactive for a while. He told me all about his life and I acted like I really cared. He inquired what made me want to come to a sex party and I told him. For years I was nervous to attend because of my herpes status but one day I said ‘fuck it!’, did a little research, emailed to a plethora of swinger and poly forums, and decided to RSVP. His response was the usual “You’re so brave” etc. And then came the questions; so how do you keep your partners safe and what about your past relationships, etc. I told him the same story I recite every time I plan to have sex with a new partner. I take my meds (Valtrex or Acyclovir), abstain during flare-ups and just remain hyper aware of my body. It was enough to put his concerns at ease, then he invited me upstairs.  

I felt his eyes locked on my ass as he walked behind me. I was thankful I had walked upstairs earlier, had I not this strut would’ve looked way less sexy. We entered the room with an MFM 3-sum going on. There were people around taking in the sights and I admired the view. When they ended up near me, her hand grabbed my breast and it was all over for me. I locked on her lips and started sucking her breasts then made my way down to her clit. She was delicious and kept moaning “you’re a goddess” in my ear. Hands were on my ass through my fishnet tights and I got so wet. I kissed Latch and we went to the other side of the room. He removed my boots and tights and I sat on his face and he made me cum. I returned the favor and another patron came to join, I flashed him my bracelet and he joined the party as well. After a few rounds we got thirsty then headed back downstairs.  

This is where he got the name Latch. Back downstairs he continued to tell me more about his life; his work, his kid, his ex, blah blah blah. I didn’t want to be a bitch; I mean after all he did just pop my sex-party-cherry but, did I have to stay with him the entire night? I got tired of hearing him speak so I suggested going back upstairs. In the same room there was the same 3-sum going on and 2 more couples (one in full action while the other the girlfriend looked a little timid). Latch and I found our corner spot again and had a round of oral. I wanted to eat some more so I approached the other couples. I asked the first one if I could suck her breast- she declined (which is always a possibility- and when it happens you MOVE ON! (NO MEANS NO!)). I asked the other girl getting pounded out and she pulled my head down (so- I guess that was a yes!) When I had my fill of that Latch took me to a private room. He ate me out two more times. We tried having sex but he couldn’t keep it up, so eventually we went back downstairs.  

Sitting at the bar and feeling satisfied with my orgasms accomplished I locked eyes with a guy that got me wet all over again. His BDE (Big Dick Energy) pulled me all the way in. But Latch, true to his name, didn’t leave my side. It was getting late, approaching 4am, and I was ready to go home. I escaped to the bathroom to regroup and, when I came out Latch had disappeared- GREAT! I made a bee-line straight for the door and called my Uber home (he had offered me a ride, but I was quite done with his company). As I was putting on my jacket BDE walked into the coat check area. It was obvious that he wanted me to stay and play but since my Uber was on the way and I didn’t want to ruin my rating or run into Latch again, I declined. We exchanged numbers and agreed to meet at a later date. 

Part 2 (COLLAR) Next week.