“Young dumb and trying to get some.”

That is what the stupid boy who was too old for me to date back when I was a wee lass used to say.  He said other brilliant things too like “if I bite you it will hurt.”  Needless to say, dating that older guy made me into something of a whore.

But how is it possible that I am this frigid?  What does a woman have to do to get laid in this town?

Advert on eros guide?  Check

Get drunk and hit on professor in your department?  Check

Get drunk, dance with top off in gay bar?  Check

Still nothing.  It’s like people have stopped having sex.

It is also like people are afraid to have sex.  Are we really all that puritanical?  Is sex something of days gone by?  Has the internet really taken the physical intimacy out of sex?  I’m down with cyber sex, don’t get me wrong but I need to be touched.  I need to be made love to.  I need to have hot sex in a dirty bathroom, with a stranger or someone who is equally taboo and off limits.

Now granted I would like to be paid for my good times but seriously I would like to believe that getting naked in public could generate something. I’m really hot lately.   And what of hitting on a middle aged professor?  It is possible that I have no dignity left.  This is true.  I hit on a professor in my department.  Oy!  But I am so horny that I am going to start humping someone’s leg soon.

Last night the phone rang.  It was some dude with an area code that led me to believe he was from Chicago.  He said all the right things, got me all turned on, dressed up, in the car with a bag of toys and then as I was backing out of the driveway he said he fell asleep, was too tired, had to cancel.

I had been in bed, well in blanket on floor, before he called.  I was in fact asleep.  After he called I was horny and bound for his place expecting there to be a sexy time.  But alas, I sat there in my car, in my driveway, dressed up in an outfit that cost more than my rent.   No place to go.  I thought I could sit there smoking a joint and reading a book but I couldn’t find a lighter and the light in my car does not work.  I called everyone I thought might be up but then I came back into the postage stamp of an apartment.  I settled back down into my leg warmers next to my cat on the pile of blankets I am using as a bed.

This is pathetic.  I’m horny, I’m hot, I’m totally undersexed.

Lame lame lame.

I don’t even know how to properly express this sadness save to drown my sorrows in blogging.  Drinking seems to get me tossed out of gay bars and into slippery situations with important people in my conservative world.  I should avoid drinking in public in the future.  I guess I’ll go eat worms.

I’m angry.  I’m angry at a system that is designed to entrap it’s citizens, to coerce conformity, and to expect heteronormative behavior without questioning the underlying presuppositions of this one-sided way of life.

Last week a young person came into my life needing help.  I made phone calls to the father of this young person.  All he did was scream at me. I hoped the situation would simmer down.  It did not. I made sure this young person had a safe place to be and then I called zirs school on Monday morning to see what had to happen to ensure that this person could attend school without harassment.  The school officials told me that the youth needed to obtain a restraining order.  We spent all day Monday and Tuesday in a courtroom until the judge granted this.

The young person returned to school on Wednesday morning, glad to be at school and expecting that the restraining order would protect zir from harassment.  Sadly it has not.  The young person has had more harassment since zir returned to school than before the event took place.  The school officials seem to think that the whole thing is a joke.  They have called the young person out of the AP classes zir is taking to meet and talk about the situation everyday.  Today they placed a statement in front of zir suggesting that zir meet with the bigoted father.  Zir had little choice but to sign it.  When the vice principal of a high school says sign this, you sign it.  I remember being a teen.  The school counselors and the officials in charge have done little to protect this persons well being.  They all seem to think that the threat of a hate crime is nothing to be concerned about.  I think they are pushing this person to return to zirs father and god loving bigoted stepmother.

Today during the meeting the father of the young person was present.  This is the person who was ordered to stay 100 yards away.  The vice principal crafted a statement saying I ___ want to meet with the restrained father, and a police officer, and miss class.  I’m certain that none of this is what the young person wanted.  The young person is a straight A student who would have preferred to have stayed in class.

The way the school officials are acting is offensive.  It is scary.  It is insulting.  And it is inherently heterosexually hegemonic.  Why are they pushing this person into a corner?  I do not understand why the school cannot back the fuck down, let the young person get through the semester and let the judge order this homophobic father into tolerance training.

I am so angry at the way the situation is being treated.   This is a sad and disgusting world we live in.  This poor young person is living in a heteronormative suburban area that has nothing but strip malls and beige houses.  There are no places to be without spending money in chain stores.  Everything has a camera attached to it and nothing different is allowed to be there.  There is not even a public library in the region. I wonder what that sort of environment does to a young freak?

I’m concerned that the school officials are attempting to convince this young person to drop the restraining order.  An order that keeps zir safe from zirs father through the rest of the semester, then there is a court date.  What the father of this young person did is unspeakable.  I’m livid.  I’m trying to not scream at the people in positions of power but they continue to bring their own morals into a situation that desperately needs to have a queer advocate present, yet does not.  I am growing more and more worried about what happens to young people who refuse to follow the herd.

Every year hundreds, if not thousands, of non-normative teens kill themselves, are killed, are beaten, and raped and forced into situations that are not safe or tolerant.  If these school officials pressure this young person into dropping the restringing order and anything happens to zir I am going to be very pissed off.  Putting someone in the way of a hate crime is a very serious thing to do.  Why then are they so adamant about fostering communication without a queer advocate present?

Should this not be a standard procedure?  Aaaaaaahhhh

I’m fucking livid.  I’m in the mood to beat the fuck out of someone.  Since it would be a bad idea to beat the fuck out of the homophobe who tossed his teen out on thanksgiving I’m hoping I can find a willing masochist to take my rage.

Please tell me there is a masochist who can step forward and take a beating.  I need to hurt someone.  I need to hurt someone consensually.  I need to do this now.  Don’t make me wait.  I’m in a real serious mood.

The night before thanksgiving I was settling down for a bottle of wine and 30 library books when the phone rang.  It was a young relative in tears.  Seems this person was chased out by zirs father in a tirade of bigoted, homophobic slander. I drove to the suburbs to rescue this teen, certain that the situation would rectify itself.

I’m glad that I can be thought of as a safe person to call in a queer emergency.  I’m less glad that there are still people chasing their teens out into the night screaming right wing talk show ideology.  Family values my ass.  This man is spewing hate in the name of god.  I will not stand for this.

Just when I was easing into a really pity party over my finances, my research, and my general well being someone came into my life needing help.  Help they shall receive.  I’m not going to sit by idly as some deranged man scares his offspring over the struggle for equality.  This poor frightened young relative of mine has nothing but the clothing ze was chased off in.

I thought the situation would blow over but it has not.  This persons adult guardians have disconnected zirs cell phone, frozen zirs bank account, refuses to return zirs homework, and has threatened to put zirs things out on the street.  The adults at the other end of this madness will not even talk to me.

So I started thinking about all the awful things I have had to put up with.  All of the hate, misinformation, hostility, bathroom unpleasantness, and downright fear that has come through my life because of God Lovers like this tyrant of a man.

Every time I experience hate because my girlfriend is trans I say “I’m gonna blog about this” and then I burry it inside me.  The hate hurts so much I can not even write about these experiences. In the last few years I have had people tell me that my girlfriend can use the men’s room because they suspect her genitalia does not look the way they would like, that she can change in the broom closet at the yoga studio, that she shouldn’t be at certain family gatherings, and that she should not be allowed to exist.  One time I was even pushed in the street after we were denied entrance to a Hollywood club.  Seems I’m always in the midst of some anger about sex and gender identities.

Until now the hostility has been about queer adults in my life.  Now that I am holding down the fort for this teen, dealing with rage and bigotry being directed towards a young person I’m so angry I could burst into flames. This youth has been chased from zirs home by adults that zir trusted.  Why is family such a hostile and confrontational experience?  Is nothing sacred?

Ah Fuck I am so broke that I am counting my change. I am so broke that I am blogging about counting my change.  I am far to broke to be comfortable.  If you are a regular client, if you have been wanting to play, if you just like my writing and would like to donate money to my tuition / suicide prevention fund now would be a great time to do it.

I am no stranger to trolling for a buck.  I have been in the sex industry for long enough that I’m not amused by mentioning how long it has been.  It is a time from that has crossed the threshold of “she knows what she’s doing” level of experience and become something more like “Geez why is she still doing this?”

The fact of the matter is that I am still doing this, trying to muster up enough money to pay my bills and get through school.  Granted I have finished college and because I am so good at school I want to get a PhD.  Bully for me.  I’m sure that to a lot of the people who no longer speak to me because of this decision I must seem like a spoiled brat.  I’m not.

Today I am counting my change.  I don’t have any more matte, my preferred caffeinated beverage, though last year I bought several kilos of black tea, it’s too jittery for my liking and I can’t drink it without soy milk and sugar.  I have some sugar but I’m out of soy milk.  I’m gonna count up my change and go buy some soy milk.  I don’t have (and haven’t had) enough money to do my laundry in months.  It’s in the back of my car, a purchase that I had to suck up and make as socal was simply dehumanizing without one.  My car is bigger than my apartment so for the time being it is my laundry room.

Back to my lack of mullah.  Grad school is a level of poverty that I’m not sure I can cope with.  I can’t afford food so I’m 50 lbs lighter than I was a year ago.  Woo Hoo – smart and skinny.  If you are at all interested in the horrible economic situation in California you might be aware that a lot of money was cut from our school system. Almost 600 million dollars – cut.   Fuck.  I’m a thousand dollars short of my tuition.  I have to have it by Friday.  I don’t have any food.  My laundry is filthy – I’m in fact wearing the same pair of socks that I put on (dirty) Monday.  The situation is fucking disgusting.  I feel like I am living in a third world country.  I am currently sitting in a coffee house, using the internet connection because I can not afford to have service in my apartment, and I feel like they are gonna catch on to the fact that I am simply reusing the paper cup.  I live close by so I have been refilling the cup with tea from home, using it as a VIP pass to sit in the coffee house for hours on end.  I don’t even have enough money to buy a cup of tea in a coffee house.  This is truly awful.

I think I’m pretty hip, though I have no friends and my family won’t talk to me.  I’m smart and skinny.  I’m well read and can make you feel intellectually inadequate.  My perversions are world class.  Why then am I so fucking broke?  Do I have a drug habit?  I wish.  I have an education habit.  I could spend my time being a good internet dominatrix – hanging around waiting to prey upon the next submissive who appears, but I’m reading a ton of feminist and linguistic theory instead.  I read over twenty books this week, wrote a pretty stellar paper about the patriarchy inherent in the USAmerican English language and on Friday I have to go tot the cashiers office with a thousand bucks I don’t have.  Wanna support my education habit?  Wanna take me to the grocery store?  Wanna be pissed on at the beach this afternoon?  Something – anything to amuse me, distract me from my hunger – something.

Anyone got a bone to toss my way?

I know that the Christmas fucking decorations just went up which means that your fucking offspring are gonna get to believe in Santa and that I am gonna end up stealing food before the year is over.  I really don’t want to have to steal food.  That might be my breaking point.

I’m pretty sure that I am suffering from some sort of malnutrition.  I ran out of vitamins a couple weeks ago.  I am tired and dizzy and sometimes my vision gets a little blurred.  But school is great.

Is this what it takes to acquire an education in this country?  Hunger?  Really – wow.  I am horrified and scandalized to my very core.   My parents are not interested in helping.  They never gave me a dime for school.  I paid for my private liberal arts education by myself.  I have a mountain of debt and a love of learning.  Loving school is not very highly valued in this nation, I fear it is even lower in national values that being an artist is – at least if you are a performance artist you are fostering the nationwide acceptance of cultivating your personality and potentially becoming famous.  This is what we value – the quest for pointless fame.  If we should want to read, question the power structure, if we want to become a nation of well educated individuals I suppose then that we deserve to be hungry.

That is what I am learning in graduate school.

So how bout it – wanna take me to the supermarket and the laundry mat?

I am back in San Diego for a bit. When I first got here I started sizing up the public toilets as I love to piss on boys in public bathrooms.  I was lucky enough to find one that has a two-way mirror wall.  Yep, I know where there is a bathroom that has a wall of glass you can see out of but people on the other side cannot see in.  It is trippy, and very very hot.

I really hope that there is someone out there who wants to do something sexy in this bathroom with me.  I’m getting antsy.  The grey days we are having are lovely.  I want to play.  This town makes me crazy.  I am in a mood to do something dirty!

This bathroom has been an active part of my fantasies for a year now.  I have not had a chance to play in it.  I expect that the business will eventually close its doors.  I really want to piss on someone in this bathroom before I leave town, before the place goes out of business, before I can’t.  You know?

Now let me give you a better image of what I am talking about here.  There is a bathroom in central San Diego that is in a very high traffic business.  People coming and going.  Lots of people. The toilet is right in the middle of the establishment.  One of the walls is a mirror on the outside and a transparent piece of glass on the inside of the bathroom.

Sometimes I go in there just to masturbate.  I have never had a chance to piss on a boy in there.  I very much want to do this.  I woke up thinking about this.  I jerked off and thought I would suggest a public pissing in this toilet to you.  It will be the sexiest golden shower you ever have.  I am drinking a gallon of water right now, waiting for you to call me.

Also …

I have this giant thing of cheese sauce taking up a huge amount of real estate in my refrigerator.  I have a hard time wasting food.  I don’t want to just toss it, nor would I even know the best way to do that.  I got stuck bring it home from a family party.  I’m not gonna eat it.  I have moral issues with throwing it out.  It won’t flush easily.  If I put it in the garbage it will ooze and make a big ass mess.  What I want to do with it, every time I open the fridge in fact, is take it to the beach, and have a splosh session with it.

It is a huge thing of cheese sauce.  It is spicy.  I want to rub it in your face with my feet.  I want to cover your dick with it.  I would very much like to throw a wad of it at you, get it in your hair, make a big ass mess.

Any takers?

There is a nude beach here that might make the best place for this type of scene.  After the sauce is gone, I’ll cover you in sand, laugh at you, and piss all over you.

Any takers?

I’m in the mood to play.  Don’t make me sit alone, horny as hell, drinking, loathing this town, again, night after night.  Call me up and tell me you want to do the cheesy splosh scene.  I will make it very very fun!

Thanks to the massive budget cuts that the California state school system is in the midst of, I had a ten-day furlough season.  I thought I could stick around and take care of the things I need to take care of or I could head to New England.  You might know how much I loathe Sandy Eggo and you might already realize that I split town.

My girlfriend, Lorelei Erisis, went back east when I realized that I was going to go to graduate school in San Diego.  We came here looking for places, opportunities and good times only to discover a hostile environment where people would not shake her hand and local queers were doing everything in their power to mimic the straight heteronormative lifestyle that hegemonic forces so demand.  We realized pretty quickly that she needed to live somewhere less volatile.

She went back east and I stayed here.  It was, and is, awful.  We are in love.  We are best friends.  Why does she have to live thousands of miles away?  Fuck, can you hear the sadness?

Anyway.  Sob sob, poor me, waaaaa.

I went to New England and had an awesome time.   I got a lot of work done at the stonewall center.  I had a chance to talk to some people about gender variant neologisms. I pissed on some boys.

So, on with the porn.

The first few days I was there I was in the midst of a huge deadline.  I hade a paper on crime theory due and I was on the rag.  I was vile.  As soon as I turned it in I looked up and realized I had to pee.  A nifty sort of boy contacted me.  He confessed that he used to play at dungeons but because the sessions were so cookie cutter ze ceased to continue the activities.

We met in a bar in downtown Northampton in the middle of the day.  I had a bloody marry that was not strong enough, spicy enough, or bloody enough.  He drank a beer.  We sat there discussing the finer points of verbal humiliation.  When our drinks were finished we headed to the Hotel Northampton.  It is a big beautiful historic hotel.  Not the sort of place people designed to meet for smutty activities.

At the bar this boy tells me that she has “prepared the room.” Knowing that we have agreed to a golden shower I asked if she covered the room in plastic wrap, like Dexter would.  Should I be frightened?  What am I walking into? I wondered.

When we got to the room there was a big blue tarp on the bed and a door that lead to a shared balcony. The balcony was right above the main drag in this cute little college town.   Highly visible.

I put her in a sexy one-piece girdle bra thing.  Beige, with a crotch snap and huge D cups that she could not fill.  Poor boobless boy.  Then we went out on the balcony.  I had her prance around on the balcony in her skivvies.  I took off my pants and told her to lie down.  I pissed on her belly, on her crotch, on her face.

“Stand up and look at the people down on the street” I told her.  I made her prance around some more.  We were only on the second floor.  She was wet with piss, standing in a one-piece panty, bra, girdle combo.  Chest hair popping out of the bra.  Flat chested hairy wet bitch.  It was a beautiful sunny day.  People were out on the street.  Lots of people. Anyone who looked up could have seen us up there on the balcony.  I made eye contact with a middle-aged hippie type.  He saw.

Though the sun was out, it was October in New England.  My bitch was wet and without pants on, I was cold.  We headed back in to the tarp-covered bed.  I had him lay on the blue tarp and I stood over him, letting my piss trickle.  I asked him a question and when he went to answer it I let some more piss fall onto his face.  I was having a blast.

He wanted to be degraded, but didn’t want to be called any of the standard “pig, slut whore” type names.  I started in on his capitalistic lifestyle.  His carbon footprint.  His SUV.  His over indulgent house in the suburbs.  I was having a super sexy time insulting this American.  I got down.  Pissing and articulation of all things wrong with the world.  That is what this bitch was getting.  All the while we are on a blue tarp covered bed, in a snooty themed hotel with floral print screaming at me from every wall and window covering.  A puddle of piss had formed around my left foot.  “Slurp it,” I ordered.

After a bit we moved to a strip tease.  I had her put on an extra layer of bra / panties.  “Get up in the window and dance” I told her. Sadly, the only music in the place was some strange folk concert on the telly.  The sound quality sucked, the music was laden with banjos, and my hairy, flat-chested, piss-covered, panty-wearing bitch was trying her damdest to shake her flat manly ass.

I laughed.  She danced. I laughed, she danced.  She rolled around on the floor like a stripper would.  I laughed.

Eventually I put her in the tub, stood over her and had her stroke herself.  I pissed in her nose, in her eyes, on her dick.  I drenched her. She came.  Then I spanked her with the remote control.

Then …

I had one of the strangest sessions ever while I was in noho.  An old man – old like white hair, pot belly, probably in his 70’s old – called me and suggested that he was a big fan and wanted to get together.  After a short conversation we agreed to meeting at a cheap sounding motel at the edge of Smith College.

When I got there he was not able to articulate what sort of session he wanted.  He said he didn’t have any experience. I asked him to tell me a story.  He said he didn’t have any.

The room had this huge heart shaped bathtub.  “Strip and get in” I told him.  I had a gallon of water in me already.  “Get out, put on the panties, and get back in” I instructed.  I stood precariously over this love tub, in my own black cotton thong and pissed just enough to get them wet.  I slapped them thinking “I don’t think I have ever pissed in my panties before.” I liked the way it felt.  Wet panties dripping over an old man.  This was about to get very hot.

I tried to get some information about his fantasies out of him.  I got nothing.  He was dull, vapid, boring me to tears.  I pissed a slow trickle over him, through my panties.  I was amused by the sensation of dripping wet panties.  I shot a little onto his white hair.   He seemed totally indifferent.  Maybe it was not about to get hot.  I was still hopeful.

After what seemed like three hours but was more like twenty minutes my piss stream dried up. I was shocked.  I drank a gallon of water.  Where in the hell was it?  Today is the day my body decided to absorb it? Am I piss shy if I’m not turned on?  I had no idea.  My piss was gone.  Our chemistry was non-existent.  I was trying to piss on an old man in a heart shaped tub.  There was no music.  There was no conversation.  Then there was no piss.

Mua~mwa~muagh.

Not the sexiest of times.  Certainly one of the most awkward.  I left with the impression that this old man simply wanted to be near me for an hour.  I wish he had said that on the phone.  We could have had lunch.

Then …

Thank gawd, at the last possible minute, I lined up a public golden shower.  I love these.  Love Them!

We met at the Wal-Mart.  As we went in I put my hand out.  He put money in it.  We walked to the back of the store.  I took him in the family rest room.  I locked the door so a Wal-Mart shopping family didn’t catch us.  “Take off your jacket and put it on the dirty baby changer.  If you want your clothing to stay dry, strip.” I told him.  He looked puzzled.  “If you don’t mind getting soaked just lay down in your clothes.” He laid down on the floor in his black pants and black t-shirt.  I dropped my pants and stuck my ass over his face.  “Open” I demanded.  I squirt a quick shot of piss into his mouth.  “Swallow” I ordered.  He gulped it down and opened wide again.  I shot piss into his mouth and he swallowed it.  This happened several times and then I let the piss flow so that it got in his nose, in his eyes.  He was sputtering.  It was fucking hilarious.  I was giggling as he tried to avoid drowning in my piss.  I was laughing and pissing.  He was swallowing and sputtering.  He told me it was like going swimming as a kid.  I pissed all over him.  Got his clothes wet.  Shot my full bladder all over his face.  I had to piss something awful.  It was fucking hot.  I grabbed a piece of toilet paper, wiped, threw it at his face, pulled up my pants and headed out the door.

As I was leaving the parking lot he walked in front of the car I was driving with the biggest smile I have every seen on someone leaving Wal-Mart.

My heart was pounding, my pussy was throbbing, my pocket was full of cash.  I was Happy.

I am in Western Mass now.  I could potentially see a client on Friday night after 9:00 PM.  Saturday morning I head to NYC via car.  I will need to pee – contact me to be my roadside toilet!

I’ll be in the city (and mostly unavailable) on Saturday.   Quick public piss sessions are available during the day.  I have time for one full session in NYC on Saturday night.

Sunday morning I head to the cape.  I am available for roadside piss stops on my way there.  Hyannis is my destination.  I have time for one session while I am there.  I am going through my dungeon / theater storage so I’ll be in a mood.  Also, I’ll be dirty and smelly.

Sunday night I head back to Western Mass.  I will be available for outcall sessions Monday.  Tuesday I am not available.

Wednesday through November first – this is still up in the air.  I should be in NYC on Wednesday the 28^th but I need to be in Western Mass too.  Hmmmm.  I’ll update with my decision as soon as I make one.

I’ll be in New England and the Tri-State area this month.

Furlough season has given me a chance to get out of this hole of a town.  I fly to Boston Wednesday.  I head to Western Mass immediately and hole up until Friday at which point I will begin interviewing people for my thesis.  Interested in talking to me about gender neutral language?  Send me a message.

I might take a trip to the cape during the weekend – depends.  The following Monday I will start wandering around the region looking at schools and making road side piss stops!  You know you want one!

My itinerary is still coming together but I will certainly be visiting Albany, Boston, NYC, Stony Brook, Princeton, and New Brunswick NJ.  I expect I’ll go into Pennsylvania but I have a feeling this will be a mistake.

That said, I can’t wait to be someplace that is flip flop free.  I’m sick to tears of the lousy footwear that is endemic to this region.  Contact me to play or to schedule an interview about gender variant language.

Widow Centauri
619.884.2376

Last night started in a most ominous fashion.  The tweaker, who I have been attempting to employ to bring my desk out of the driveway and into my apartment, above the garage, flaked again.  Making this day ten or twelve that my giant desk lingers in the driveway baiting the landlord (who lives in the front house) to come ask me about it.

Ieeee.

Then my friend Karl called me.  Karl has been a friend for some twenty years.  I know he is having an affair and I tried to advise to the best way to keep it on the down low.  But sadly Karl has gotten caught.  He was having a giddy moment of lust called love last night and when I couldn’t take it anymore I hung up and took my laptop, a bottle of two-buck chuck, and a plate of hummus, olives, cheese, and flatbread down into the driveway to work on a proper desk.

Grad school is a bitch.  I’m a walking cliché with my exhaustion, my boxes of unpacked madness making my apartment resemble a storage unit, and me in the driveway with a bottle of two dollar wine sitting at a full sized office desk at midnight – when the phone rang.

Apparently Mark saw my new ad on Eros.  It’s a real hoot.  Makes certain I won’t get too many calls.  Check it out – look in fetish fantasy in sd.

Mark talks me into coming to his room at the Hyatt.  He tells me he is black and smart.  I’m pretty easy really.  When I get there I discover that he smokes pot, that he is as horny as I am, that he is gorgeous, buff, dark, smart (as promised), that his mother was / is a librarian, that he lives on the east coast and that his real name is not mark.

After we toke up I tell him to strip.  Then he is kissing my back, something that I discover he is very good at. He is kissing me all over with his big lips, I’m melting.  Simply melting.

I haven’t had good sex in well over a year. Last week I got a practice run to see if it really is like riding a bicycle. It is! This Mark knows what he is doing. Oh yes, he does.

The kissing is rapidly followed by me sliding a magnum onto his dick that is big, not the biggest I have taken, but not disappointing.  I cannot wrap my had around it.  It is long and thick and I go to back onto it and he directs me to my back.  I would normally, in my ubber neurotic state, not let anyone get on top of me, but he is so mellow and strong and soft that I trust him.  For no real obvious reason I trust him.  So I get on my back and guide is cock into my dripping vagina.

I am immediately overcome by a huge dick in me.  Yes, it feels good but it hurts a little too. Mister curve was a lot smaller than this dude.  I wonder if I can take it.  I know I can.  I want to.  I am so turned on and so horny and he pushes his dick inside me.  I moan. It still hurts, but just a little and in a good way.  A real good way!

He pumps real slow at first, then faster then faster and deeper until I come and come and come.  I am moaning like I haven’t been laid in a year.

We keep fucking like this till I tell him I simply must flip over.  I stick my ass in the air, add some lube to my already well-lubricated pussy, and as he slides his dick into me he grabs my hips – I loose it.  I am one big orgasm.  I am coming and coming and screaming and he is shooshing me – like that will work.  I put my face in a pillow and scream and moan as he squeeze and pumps and slaps my ass and pulls my hair and I am, simply put, in heaven.

One thing that struck me while we were fucking like this was when he slapped my ass the first time there was no wiggle.  Nothing wiggly, just a hard ass that, while slappable and round did not wiggle like it has all the times that I have had sex with aggressive black men.  I was a little sad.  I wondered where I lost my ass.  I lost a lot of weight.  My ass is still back there but not all of it.  Not even most of it.  No wiggle.

But enough with the existential ass woes, I’m getting some!  Hurray for me!   This dude can fuck.  It seems like it goes on forever.  I’m in a trance.  Orgasm after orgasm washes over me.  I know nothing but the sex that I am.  I am moaning and screaming having the best time I have had in a long time.

We flip, fuck this way, that way, every way we can.  Then I have to pee.  I put him in the tub and I’m fucking him. Riding him, he is moaning, it is dark, he reminds me of a gorilla – but I don’t say that, it seems like it might take away from the mood, I’m bouncing up and down, then I pull his cock out of me and squat over it, I let a big stream of piss shoot all over his dick.  He is muttering something about how sexy it is, I keep pissing and pissing and pissing.  Then when I have no more piss I slide his dick back in me.  I ride him and we make a wet suction – slurp slurp slurp

When I’m done in the bathtub we head back to the bed.  I stick my ass in the air and he slips he dick in me.  I stand on my toes, which are wet with piss, we pump against one another and pump and pump.  I am screaming so loud that I shove my face in a pillow, again.  I’m having some fantastic orgasms.  I’m so fucking loud that no one on the 15^th floor of the Hyatt is asleep.   No one.  I’m getting fucked like I need to be getting fucked.  I’m a riot of overwhelming sexy squirting fluids and noises.

We get back into the bed, fuck some more in ways that I am not certain of, I come, he comes, we collapse.  He suggests that I sped the night.  I say “I’m not much for slumber parties” and then I cuddle up to Mark.  His skin is soft and dark.  He tells me I can bite him as we discuss the positive aspects of vampirism.  I bite him and bite him and bite him. I opt to not break his skin as I don’t even know him.  I bite to the point just before skin breakage.  If you bite you know that spot, if not, imagine.

In our post-orgasmic, post cosmic fuck bliss we talk about politics, literacy rates, travel and food, and my ass.  We giggle.  I fall into his arms and pass out.  We cuddle for a few hours, have some more sex and spend the sun-filled part of the day eating food, smoking weed, getting him to the airport so he can head back east.  I watch enviously as he heads into the airport to travel to the better part of the country.

Hopefully I will see Mark again.  If not, it was a swell time.  I’m glad that I opted for the slumber party, got my fuck on, and for the first time in a long time – relaxed!

Thanks Mark