Sex and The Modern Girl

It took me forever to figure out what to write as a guest for Karl’s blog. It takes me forever to figure out what to write on my own, so this pretty much took me all summer. I asked Karl for help and he left me with the advice, “write something you wouldn’t write on your own blog.”

Cool, thanks, ‘preciate that, really.

Since my parents read my blog and are a little straight laced, I’m going to go ahead and write about sex or at least sexcapades. Just so you know, these aren’t sexcapades involving my husband Whit, because he of course rocks in the sack and a lady doesn’t kiss and tell. Oh wait, did I just tell?

One of the funniest sex experiences I had as a dating girl, you know back in the day, goes as follows.

I was “dating” this guy Eric at the time and he was really good in the bed. He really cared about a girl’s sexual experience.  He was a player and it wouldn’t do his reputation any good to just get it and hit it. No one wants to be known as a two-pump chump.

We were at my house and we’re in the middle of foreplay, yes, that’s right foreplay, and I can hardly think because he’s got me so riled up.

Then in the middle of all the goodness he stops and says to me, “recite me a poem”.

Me: Huh wha… I’m sorry, what?
E: You heard me. Recite me a poem and I’ll go down on you.
Me: A poem?
E: Yep.

Now all I could think of at this moment was “love” poems, and I was not going to recite a love poem to a player. There was no way in hell I was going to wax poetic about cream white rosebuds or violets. So what did  I say?  So you all remember the movie “The Princess Bride”. Yep that’s what I thought of. (all of this in about .25 seconds flat)

Me: Stop it, I mean it, Anybody want a peanut?
E: Okay, I guess that’s good enough

Deed was done! Woo hoo!

The second sexcapade wasn’t nearly as much fun.

This concerned my ex-husband, Steve. We were dating, and it was pretty close to the beginning of our relationship. I decided he needed a blow job. I did say it was at the beginning of our relationship.

So there we are, him on the couch, me on my knees, and it was at the happy ending that things turned sour.

You know when you go to wash your hair in the shower or even put on lotion and maybe you haven’t used it in a few days and it starts to get that thick ball of stuff on the opening and you have to take it off to get anything out.

Yeah, that was in my mouth, only it wasn’t shampoo or lotion. Suffice it to say I didn’t swallow. There I was, trying to be polite, trying to think of the quickest way to the bathroom to spit it out.

So yeah, now you know me a little better. . .

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