Blackbook

The following includes sexual encounters that I can remember. Names aren’t important (mostly because I can’t remember some of the names). Dates are also irrelevant because ain’t nobody got time for that.

• El Viejo Maldito- this is the man who took my virginity as easily as taking candy from a baby. That was my candy, and he took it with the cut of a wrist. It happened several times from the years of 7-9. Each time, I was trapped. He and I, alone, in that cold blue shuttered house, knife on my neck, flaccid penis wriggling around in my small, prepubescent vagina. Each time he threatened to kill me if I meeped. I cried the first few times. After that, it seemed normal. I’ll never forget the disgusting odor of combined BO and cigarette breath. Even thinking about it makes me vomit in my mouth just a little.
Whenever someone brings up the topic of virginity, I evade, evade, evade. Because who wants to deal with the bummer line, “oh, um, I was raped, and that’s that.” Most people can’t handle the weight. I’m always afraid of the judgement that would result from my confession.

•Wilfred- my first kiss. He was “teaching” me how to kiss as I played coy about the mad crush I had on him. He was the class bad boy. Long hair, tall, but gentle, like a cub.

• Danilo- I didn’t have sex again until I was 14. This guy was pimply, gap toothed, and shy. But nice, I guess. I can’t remember much about him.

• Steven- the first boy to go down on me. It was everything I was expecting from all the porn I’d watched leading up to that moment. Even better was that he did wasn’t a selfish fuck. He ate me like a buffet dinner and didn’t ask for anything in return. We’re still friends and that’s cool. We were 15.

• Fabian- we never had sex. We went as far as foreplay. But I’ll never forget this individual because I helped him realize he was actually gay. I’m glad I was a part of that. Granted, it was embarrassing, but in retrospect, very rewarding. Also, 15. We’re also still friends, and he’s an amazing artist.

• Daniel- the first dude I’d fooled around with via webcam. When we actually hung out, and fooled around, again, his dick wasn’t as big as it looked on screen. He bit my lower lip so hard when he kissed me that it gushed blood and ruined “the mood”. 16.

• Edy- this guy kissed, licked, sucked, and fingered my pussy as if his life depended on it. I give him all the credit to my now eager demand that every guy I mess around with eat me as well. Not as well but as well, like, also in addition to. But I would not mind as well. I digress. This was summer between junior and senior year.

The next didn’t come along till my first year at uni. I engaged in a minor long-distance relationship for almost a year. It was aight.

• Louis- a heavy – both literally and figuratively – man with unattainable dreams. He wanted to be a comedian but he wasn’t at all funny. He listened to crappy music and had poor taste in shoes. I’m not entirely sure why I was even into him. But it might have something to do with the fact that he was the first guy to lick and subtly gape my asshole. It felt amazing. Bent in strange ways that I never imagined, handled like a rag-doll, satisfied beyond belief. I don’t miss him. But I do remember the sex being top notch thus far.

• Sameer- a guy I platonically spooned with while being in a relationship with Louis. I felt fucking terrible about it and never spoke to Sameer again. It still haunts my conscience to this day. I’m deeply sorry about it.

Then, there was my first love.

• Matthew- together for three years. I don’t want to get into the love, or the “love” we shared because that’ll be a waste of time. The sex was the definition of average. Little to no foreplay, ordinary positions, almost zero experimentation. Mostly because he didn’t want any of it. He always blamed it on having the prosthesis in his leg, but I’ll always know it’s because he didn’t want me. Three years of lies, that’s what that was. The sex was only good if we were high out of our minds. But, weed makes everything great. Whatever.

Thereafter is a flood of guys. Two things: some would say this whole thing is slutty, just by the numbers, and I’m really thankful for the stupendous potency of the nuvaring, without which, I’d be fucked.

• Lewis- a tall, Groot-like, bearded strawberry blonde. He wore an awesome pair of thick framed glasses and smelled of whiskey. We fucked just hours after meeting one another. It was good, just good. His dick was sizable in length and width (my favorite) and he explored my body very patiently and passionately. Something I was in serious need of, especially after such a shitty relationship in which I was underloved and underappreciated. It was incredibly weird to be complimented, to be accepted, to be desired. But maybe, this is what it was supposed to really be like and I’d been living in some fucking dazed land. We fucked a total of two times, both times, pretty much the same. He lasted a fair amount of time and didn’t have to do much because his dick didn’t leave much to compensate for. Though, he had a resting tremor that he never bothered to explain and I’m still confused about it to this day.

• Adam- definitely among the top three by far. This is a guy who’s married to an asexual woman and I was his sexual relief; he was my fuckboy. It was mutual so it’s all good. It was all so very good. He praised my body in ways that I’d never experienced before. Tall, dark haired, blue eyed, bearded, and fiercely strong, he knew how to get me going in a jiffy. He’d kiss me (such an amazing kisser), push me toward a wall to barricade me between a rock and a very hard place *;)* he’d tug my hair enough for it to hurt in an overcoming way, he’d grip my neck the way anyone would reach in for that last hour glass shaped coke bottle from Mexico, he’d pin me there till the brink of losing my breath and glide his tongue around my lips. This is the man I did the most disgusting shit with and it was the fucking best. We had so much sex and it was always amazing. I adore him for all the pleasure he gave me, namely the solo DP that he managed with my jackrabbit. I miss fucking him.

• Peter- the sex was short and sweet. I was mostly fascinated by his motorcycle, riding in the back of it, and being “that girl”.

• Chris- he lived in Malibu and I lived in Riverside. It was all a total inconvenience, but I loved his beard. He fucked me everywhere in my apartment and carried me around like I was a feather. His large hands covered and graced my curves so effortlessly. He made me feel small, in such a good way. In the way I’d been needing to feel. He also shared his really great weed so I’m not complaining. I wonder where he is now…

• Kyle- the night I met him, he kissed my forehead upon our farewell. This stuck with me so hard. No one had ever made such a gesture at me. It was sweet. It was gentlemanly. It was different. We stayed in touch for a week or two afterward, had sex, and that was over. I can’t even remember how or why we stopped talking. This kind of shit always confuses me. Why does that happen? The stopping of the talking? WHY? The million dollar question.

• Paul- a very adorable, very naive guy. We went on a couple of dates, all went well, but well in the kind of way that a one way street flows efficiently. He was so into me. I was only kinda into him. I didn’t feel compelled to impress him in any way. He was instantly stunned by my intellectual capacity (double major in sociology and history, about to graduate from uni), my work ethic, and my musical talents. I didn’t have to do any work with this guy. It was almost too easy. We fucked once. Only once because this guys dick was too big and he didn’t know the damage he could cause with that monstrous appendage. He ate me out so well but that didn’t make up for the pain that lingered deep inside my vagina for weeks after. He really wanted to be with me, in like a relationshipy kind of way, but I knew I’d let him down if I went through. I did so sooner rather than later. We didn’t stay in contact much longer after that.

• Andrew- my favorite name for a man and another of the top three bunch. A PHD student of the chemistry department, this guy was down to earth and down to fuck. It didn’t take long for us to get into the nitty gritty and I didn’t mind it. He wasn’t as tall as I usually liked, but I attracted to his effortless swagger and intellect, his glasses too, I should add. He was very explicit about his desire for casual sex, nothing more, nothing less. And I agreed simply because I didn’t want to pass up the opportunity to have this babe inside me. I was half lying, I wanted something more, but I also didn’t, because I knew I’d be leaving soon. We smoked hookah for several hours and talked about everything and anything, except math & science because I’m a humanities major and an avid candidate of perpetuating the stereotype that we can’t math. We went over to his place, a first. Up to that point, all the guys is fooled around with, I’d hosted. So this was a nice turn of events. When it came to sex, he had the confidence and the body of a Greek God, not sure which one, but that’s beside the point. He knew the female body so well. Knew how to ask all the right questions and knew to ask for permission. His dick, so girthy, filled me like a properly piped hot link. (Now I’m hungry and horny) He lasted very long and wore me out in the best way. When it was all over, I figured it was expected of me to get dressed, say thanks, and leave. But he asked me to stay, asked me cuddle, asked me to kiss through the night. Another first. We fucked twice and stopped talking.

• Brett- the one guy who gave me flashbacks of being 7-9 years old. We were at a club, people watching, because clubbing is so awkward and interesting to examine. We talked for a while and I was utterly bored of the setting, so I offer we go elsewhere. By elsewhere, I meant, another establishment, he thought it meant, my place. It’s all downhill from here. I make up some lame excuse about not being able to bring him home with me because my gay best friend had a fight with his boyfriend and was staying with me for a bit. He bought it. Mini celebration. Cut short by his proposal to go to a hotel. I say, can’t, I don’t feel comfortable with that. He pressures more and more reject the whole notion and ask him to drive me home. On the way back, he decides to stop at Carl’s Jr. because he’s unbearably hungry although we’d just had dinner a few hours before. I wait patiently in the passenger seat as we has his meal. He begins a lengthy interrogation on the tension of our sexual situation. “I just want to fuck you and I’m going to no matter what.” *car doors lock* internally, I’m freaking the fuck out because I never imagined this would happen to me as an adult. We were in an empty parking lot, my phone was dead, and screaming seemed like a death sentence (trauma took its toll). I begged him to understand. I tried to be polite as possible as to avoid any form of violence. I blamed myself for putting myself in such a stupid situation. I accepted that if it was going to happen again, that it was my fault for being so irresponsible. “You can’t expect me to leave with nothing, I drove over an hour here to see you. I’m gonna get mine.” I didn’t know what to do. He lunged his body over the median between the two front seats and kissed me aggressively and grabbed my breasts way too tightly. I tried so hard to pull away. I was at war with myself. A part of me kept in the tears forcefully to avoid the drama. Another part of me wriggled away like a worm to avoid him as much as possible. And another part of me tried to convince the other parts of me that it’d just be easier to give him what he wanted. I’m an idiot. Soon, he put his hand between my legs (I was clenching as hard as I could to keep them closed). “Just let me in, I promise, it’ll be great. Don’t be such a prude.” He was rubbing my clit to the point of rug burn and I started to cry. He didn’t car. He kept going. Then, from the heavens, came around the security guard, shining his light on the fogged windows of the car. “IF YOU DONT LET ME OUT RIGHT NOW, I WILL FUCKING RUIN YOUR LIFE. GET YOUR FILTH OFF ME AND OPEN THESE FUCKING DOORS”, the only thing I came up with and babbled into his ear because I didn’t want to make a scene. The security guard tapped at the window. He unlocked the doors. As he rolled down the window to acknowledge the security guard, I made a run for it. I ran all the way home and immediately blocked him from everything.

• Brenden- the oldest man to be featured here. We never even kissed but damn was the sexual tension overwhelming. He took on the role of the dad I never had but so some reason wanted to fuck. Anytime I needed help with anything concerning household/motorbike/car repairs, he was the guy I could count on. We spent several nights together, lying beside one another, talking, laughing, judging, spooning, he’d caress every one of my curves, he’d massage me with those elder, used up hands. He comforted me. I needed it.

• Geoff- the last of the series of guys I’d be active with before going abroad. A total character. Tall, dark and curly haired, mustachioed, bespectacled, and light brown eyed, for the little while we had, he treated me like I was the eighth world wonder. He cared so deeply about what disturbed me. Cared more than anyone has ever cared and this is what repelled me from him. I’d never been so attended to and I didn’t know how to react. Sex with him was passionate and deeply satisfying in a very simple way. At 6’4″, he was able to take all of me and do as we wished, not as he wished. Sex with him was much more emotional than anything else. It was an experience. He was always so kind to me, and me, a biting piranha, to him. I wish I could apologize to him. He was the last of the Riverside wave.

Now that I’m in Korea, I’ve continued my sexcapades but with fewer men (on average).

• Taylor – an army bro. That’s the best, and pretty much the only way to describe him. The kind of guy who brags about the amount of jerseys & jordans he owns, the sports bedding he dozes off into every night, and the fantasy teams he’s pwning. Not that there’s anything inherently wrong about this way of being, it’s simply the opposite of my type. And in this case, opposites attracted for inexplicable, utterly questionble, physical reasons. We fucked and it was okay, nothing much to it. Nothing I’d experienced before. No intense mental, physical, emotional, or spiritual stimulation. Just plain ol’ bangin for the halibut. He didn’t talk to me for a month then he came on back with the same moves. And horny and lonely as I was, I let him in again. Nothing new, again. He didn’t talk to me for another month again. Then suddenly he rose from the dead, as expected, to try to swoop in for another round. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.

• Kaleb – the third among the top three trifecta. A 6’2″ Air Force fox with a brain like James Franco, a personality like Chris Pratt, and a body like Matthew McConaughey. We fucked twice and both times were reminiscent of the best sex I’d had back home. If I could be fingered his way for the rest of my life, I’d be golden. I don’t know how he did it, but he fingered my holes simultaneously and I never felt and pain. Just pure pleasure. I’m mad that he stopped talking to me but I can’t be that mad because he fucked me so well. Thanks for the memories.

• Brian – what a loser. Or maybe I’m the loser. Who knows. He used all these bells and whistles to get me to his apartment, mid-way through a date, and when it was sexy time, he couldn’t even find my clit. Dude, it’s like putting together your prayer hands, the tip top is the holy grail this last encounter is so pathetic that I’m even embarrassed to list it. For obvious reasons I didn’t go through with it. I have standards and he clearly wasn’t fit for the bill.

• Tennessee Kid – I don’t even want to talk about it. I just hope he understands that karma is a force to be reckoned with. Because what goes around, comes around, master.

• Canadian Opa – a one night stand. He was good to me. He was direct, attentive, patient. Bearded, tall, good with his hands. He had a great butt. He knew it too. We enjoyed each other so much.
He fit the bill, almost perfectly. All but two things. First, he’d be going home (Canadia) pretty soon, so for obvious reasons, that’s a deal breaker. Second, he challenged my phallic phobia, that is, my genuine fear of small penises. His wasn’t nearly a micropenis, but by far the smallest I’d ever had. Even still, he gave me the feels. He caressed me in ways I’d never been before, he didn’t make me fret about my body or how seriously uncomfortable I am with being naked, there wasn’t a single inch that went ignored. He touched, kissed, licked, even bit. It had me wild.
That was a lot of fun. For what it was worth, definitely noteworthy.

• The New Yorker – average. I’ll save face. He’s a kind guy, but I’m not in the right state of mind to take him on.

* so far, I learned three things.
First, no more military guys. Just, no.
Second, never settle for anything less than what I want, having standards isn’t a bad thing.
Third, no more casual sex. Self respect isn’t second nature, it’s an earned practice. Better late than never.

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