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Nosey Bastard

I was sitting in the living room chatting with Manwhore and Troll when my phone began ringing.  I of course looked at the number and realized who it was.  I got up to put out my cigarette and answer it and go into my bedroom.  As soon as I answered it and was heading Manwhore started talking to me.  I didn’t really catch what he was saying because I was hurrying to my bedroom.

I sat at my desk and continued talking to my friend.  Manwhore came in and asked who I was talking to.  I turned the phone away and whispered, “a friend.”  Manwhore said, “oh, ok” and walked out.

Why did he have to do that?  And I know once Troll is gone he’ll be in here asking me again who it was, was it a guy, was it a boyfriend?  It’s killing him not knowing.  OK, maybe it’s not that bad, but still…why be so nosey?

Now, to tell you about my friend who I was talking to that whole time.  The First was just that, he was my first.  He was my first kiss, my first time performing oral, my first penetration, ever.  He was the first and he was wonderful.  That was fifteen years ago.

We’ve chatted a few times since we last saw one another fourteen years ago, but not often.  Then he found me on Facebook a couple of years ago and we started talking occasionally and catching up on what was going on in each others lives.

He messaged me on Facebook tonight and we started talking again and he ended up calling me.  Talking to him was like talking to my best friend from high school.  The comfort level was still there and he was still able to put a smile on my face just like he used to.

We talked about him coming to visit me.  I hope it does work out because I really would love to see him in person again.  I’m guessing the “chemistry” will still be there, and maybe even stronger now.  We shall see!

Happy humping!

Why I call hubby #1 the Con Artist – part 1

Some stories are just too long to be put into one post.  I could probably write an entire book on my first ex-hubby, but I’m going to narrow it down to just two posts for now.  Enjoy!

It was August 1995 when we started talking on AOL.  Yep those were the good old days of AOL chat rooms.  For some reason he liked stalking the chat rooms set up for various southern states instead of the NY rooms.  I knew that he was Jewish, he lived in Brooklyn, NY and he was 32 years old.  I didn’t know a lot else about him at the time.

After a couple of weeks of talking online and on the phone he asked if I’d like to come up to NY to visit him one weekend.  I was very hesitant at first because then I was a 22-year-old virgin working as a church secretary and even though I had been to NYC once when I was in high school, the thought of going back by myself scared the crap out of me.  He was persistent though and offered to buy my plane ticket and get me a hotel room to stay in while I was there.  It made me feel a little more at ease knowing that I wouldn’t have to stay with him at his house.  Reluctantly I accepted his offer and we planned it out for the weekend coming up.

It was a Friday evening when my plane landed at JFK airport in New York City.  He met me at the airport and as soon as I saw him he said let’s go have a drink.  After having a couple of drinks in a bar there in the airport we went out and got a car service to take us to the hotel in Brooklyn.

Admittedly I wasn’t very impressed with him at first.  He was crass and not that good-looking.  He was a less attractive looking and shorter version of Jerry Seinfeld.  He had on some of those really faded or whitewashed type jeans and a polo shirt tucked in to his jeans.  He looked like he was stuck in the 80’s.  I later found out that his wardrobe wasn’t the only thing stuck in the 80’s.  For him, the 80’s were the best years of his life, full of sex, drugs, and wanna-be mafioso types.  He told me about how his father owned a club back in the 70’s and many of the local mobsters frequented it .  His father died of a heart-attack when he was five and his mother, who on her own had to raise a wild unruly son, just about went crazy with grief and stress.  Well, she didn’t raise him completely on her own.  The local mobsters that were friends with his dad offered to help keep an eye on him.  I think he would have been better off just with his crazy mother raising him.

After we went to the hotel and I changed my clothes we went out to dinner.  It was a nice restaurant in Brooklyn, but he wasn’t the best conversationalist that I had ever met.  He had few table manners and even fewer things in common with me.  When he did talk it was mostly about himself and how much money he had and how he had just gotten back from a trip to Arizona where he took a jet for a test ride.  I’m not really the gold-digging type, but he did make it all sound quite impressive.  Being that I was a poor little Southern girl working a low-paying job, this was about the most excitement that I had in a long time.

He took me to a couple of bars and clubs in Brooklyn and everyone seemed to know him.  There were lots of goodfella types that came over and talked to him.  I was so out of my element that everything was exciting and interesting to me.  I was naïve and clueless and very soon became drunk.  He was trying to drink me under the table.  He failed.  I still had a high tolerance for alcohol and by the time I was feeling tipsy, he was about on the floor.

He finally was too drunk to go anywhere else so he said we’d get a cab and he would take me back to my hotel.  As drunk as he was though, he still tried to get me to let him in my hotel room.  I refused and he got kind of upset.  I told him that I was a virgin and there was no way in hell that I was going to lose it to him.  I ended up having to push him out of the doorway so I could close the door.  Before he left he said that he would be back in the morning to take me back to the airport.

The next morning I got up and got ready to head back to the airport.  I waited and waited.  I called his house, but there was no answer.  I called & called, still no answer.  Great.  I had no idea what to do.  I had spent the last little bit of my cash to pay for the cab the night before because he said he was out of cash.  So there I was with no money and no ride back to the airport.

Before I had a meltdown I decided to just call a cab and then give the driver a check once we were at the airport.  I had no cash so what was he going to do?  Refuse to take it?  It was a plan, although not a great one.

On the ride to the airport the cabby was a talker and asked me why I had come to NYC.  I told him a little about what had happened and then decided to go ahead and tell him that I had no cash, just a check.  I swore to him that it would be good and pretty much begged for his help.  He was really nice about it all and said that would be fine.  I guess my innocent looks and demeanor at the time helped me out a lot in that situation.

I arrived back home later that night and swore that I’d never speak to that asshole again.

Stay tuned for part two of Why I call hubby #1 the Con Artist.  What?  You thought it would end there?  My life is never that simple because I’m not as smart as I look. 😉

Happy humping!

How to get fired from a church

I was down visiting my parents Labor Day weekend 1995 and Pastor Cracker, my dad’s friend, was there visiting also.  I had taken copies of my résumé so that I could look for jobs there, but wasn’t too serious about it.  I was in college back in my hometown, and I also had a pretty good job there.

While the Preacher, my mom, Pastor Cracker and I were talking, Pastor Cracker mentioned that they were about to the point of needing a full-time secretary at his church.  The Preacher got all excited and told Pastor Cracker that I was an excellent secretary and might be interested.  Me, a church secretary? Don’t make me laugh.  Actually at that time I was still a “good girl” and hadn’t done much sowing of my wild oats yet.  Don’t worry.  That all changed in due time.

The thought of getting out of my hometown was enough to entice me into taking the job.  Up until then I had only lived outside of my hometown once, and that was when I was Continue reading

Your Honor, Please Don’t Take My Boxers.

Back in the good old days of AOL chat rooms and easy hookups that came from said chat rooms, I had a dream.  I wanted to find a nice good-looking normal boyfriend with a good job, maybe even a doctor or a lawyer. You know, someone who mom & dad would actually like.

I had talked to Scooby for a couple of weeks when we decided that it was time to meet face to face.  I had seen his picture so I thought I knew what I was getting myself into.  He had curly blond hair, pretty blue eyes, was taller than me and had a good body.  Scooby was a cute Jewish lawyer from New York who had moved to Atlanta a couple of years earlier.  I found him funny, witty, and sexy and therefore wanted to have sex with him.  It was definitely lust at first sight.

I can’t remember if Scooby and I went for drinks or dinner or anything, or if we were just two horny little fuckers that couldn’t wait to get it on.  After he picked me up from my apartment, he said that he needed to stop by his office to pick up some paperwork, so we went by there first.  It was in a large office building and it was at night so no one was really around.  When we got to the building he asked if I wanted to come up to see his office.  I got the feeling that he wanted to go up and get more than his paperwork so I said yes.

It wasn’t anything fancy, but it was a nice office and it had a couch in it.  We sat on the couch and started talking.  It didn’t take long for him to go in for a kiss and he was a very good kisser.  As things progressed he unbuttoned and unzipped his pants.  When he stood up to take them off I saw that he was wearing Scooby Doo boxers.  I thought they were cute and I kind of giggled because here was this hotshot straight-laced NY lawyer standing in the middle of his office wearing Scooby Doo boxers.  He also still had on his shirt and tie.  I tend to see the humor in the silliest little things and situations.  Once he realized that I wasn’t laughing at him, we continued what we had started.

It was a fun little escapade.  I felt like the naughty secretary getting spanked in the boss’ office.  It was great and probably what really got me interested in spanking and other types of light kink.

I don’t remember much about what happened with him after that night, and it doesn’t really matter.  I had a great time and some good sex with a really cute guy.  What else could a girl ask for? 🙂

Happy humping!

Midnight Confessions

Mr. A was a hotshot news producer and reporter in a big city.  Tall, handsome, witty, intelligent, strong and sexy are all words that could honestly be used to describe him.  We had been talking online for several months, but this was our first face-to-face meeting.  It was in a small coffee shop and bookstore.  It was lust at first sight for both of us.  We hit it off instantly, laughing and joking and just taking each other in for the first time.  The chemistry was definitely there, but he was older and wiser than me.  After a couple of hours talking we went back to my apartment.  In less than five minutes after getting inside I attacked him.  My hormones were raging and my libido was through the roof.  Kissing him deeply and passionately I pushed him against the couch almost knocking him down.  He kissed me back and I continued kissing, touching and grinding.  I desperately needed something I believed only he could give me.  We continued making out on the couch and then suddenly he said he had to go.

After Mr. A left I sat confused and not understanding why he didn’t want to go further. We continued to stay in contact even after I moved away to another big city far away.  I always updated him on my latest love affairs and he did the same.  It became a beautiful friendship without judgement and disdain.

A few years later I found myself back in his city.  I had made the conscious choice to fly to see him and forever close the door to ever having a chance at being with BSL.  It was a choice that I’ll never regret.

While visiting Mr. A I stayed at his apartment in the city.  Years of anticipation had been building inside both of us, but this was the time that he considered me ready for more.  It’s all a blur, yet I can still see parts of it in slow motion when I stop and think back on that night.  He was dominant yet caring and gentle.  He didn’t hurt me, although he had the biggest cock I had ever seen.  It was amazing.  I still have to think hard to remember what sex was like before I was with him.  He opened me up and brought the real me to the surface.  There was nothing that I wouldn’t do for him, but he never asked me to do more than he knew I could handle.

I rode him, kissed him, and sucked him.  Towards the end he got on top of me and while fucking me he said that he can’t cum when on top.  That was fine with me.  I just wanted him inside me.  The orgasms I had made me see rainbows, stars, and fireworks all at the same time.  To his surprise though he was able to cum while on top of me.  We continued to enjoy ourselves for the rest of the weekend until I had to go home.

It’s one of the most unusual and wonderful relationships and friendships that I’ve ever had.  It’s been fifteen years and we still keep in touch.  I don’t think I’ll ever find someone who I can be that open and honest with again, not without fear of judgement or persecution.  Time, distance and life may keep us apart, but we’ll always be kindred spirits.