Porn

I went to the airport to pick up Random British Guy today...

I was excited. I hadn't seen him in well over a month. Honestly I had never expected to see him again. I had thought that our brief late night encounter was the end all to our limited relationship. Luckily for me he was required back in the States for work so I planned on taking full advantage of his presence. And by full advantage I mean using his body for hot sweaty sex.

We drove straight back to my place. I didn’t ask. I knew I didn’t need to. We both knew what was on the agenda long before he had boarded his plane back in England.

Surprisingly, I wasn’t nervous. I had thought that I might be. I mean I had hit the sack with the guy the same night I met him the first time around. He may have been the last of my few conquest during Whore Week but was by far the most fun. Like I’ve said before, I like me a large man. I was hooked the moment he had lifted me up onto my kitchen counter top and pinned me back against the cabinets’. As you know dear reader, I’m a girl who likes to be tossed.

We got back to my place and headed straight to my bedroom. Now I was nervous! No, that’s not the right word. I was excited. Excited to break this awful chain of self induced celibacy. It was time to get my damn jiggy on!

I opened up my bedroom door and let him walk in first so that he could carry in his bags. I stepped in after him and turned around to shut my door. The second the latch clicked on the lock I felt Random British Guys massive 6’4” body push up against my back. He wrapped one arm around my waist and pushed his crotch into my ass. Momma like that.

He grabbed my left wrist and lifted it up above my head and pinned it against the wall. He pushed against me harder until my cheek was pressed up against the door. His mouth was on my neck already nibbling and biting at the tender skin. I felt the goose bumps run through my body. My panties were immediately wet. That’s the thing about being a woman in her thirties. My body is always red-to-go.

He took the hand that was around my waist and reached down to grab the hemline of my dress. With one swift movement he slipped the flimsy garment up and over my head exposing my thin lace thong and bare breast. I had decided to skip the bra this morning. I mean what was the point? I knew I would be naked soon anyways, and lucky for me my breast are just as perky as they were in my early 20’s. I love being brown. It’s true what they say. My people never age.

I turned to face him. He released my arm and grabbed my face with both hands and kissed me as I expertly unbuckled his pants. I was careful with the zipper. I didn’t want to catch his already swollen penis. I allowed his pants to drop down around his ankles. Apparently I hadn’t been the only one to decide to forgo undergarments.

I had forgotten how large he was! Long and thick, just the way I like them. There are few penis’s out there that I truly admire. I mean lets be real ladies, they are ugly horrible looking things. But every now and then I see one that truly impresses me. Random British guy had one that definitely did it for me. I’m secretly glad that he wasn’t my boyfriend. I couldn’t imagine having to place the girth of his massive dick into my mouth. I would choke for sure.

But as a rule, head is reserved for my one and only so I instead wrapped my hand around the monster and gave it a squeeze. I took my other hand and licked the tips before I placed them under is balls and gave them a tickle.

That did the trick. Random British Guy moaned and pushed me back up against the door. Thank god we were alone at The Plex. We had just got started and we already sounded like we were undergoing an exorcism.

He reached down and roughly jammed his hand into my panties and pushed his fingers into me. They slipped in easily, I was beyond excited now.

He grabbed the crotch of my panties and with one quick jerk ripped them in half. There would be no waiting. This was happening now.

He bent down and grabbed the base of my ass with both hands and expertly opened my legs and lifted me up against the wall at the same time. I wrapped my legs around his torso and covered his mouth with mine.

He entered me easy as pie. Did I mention how much I love a thick penis? I’m usually only able to get one or the other. Either long, or just thick. To have both? Well lets just say the moment he entered me and filled me up with his manhood I felt the orgasm creep up on me. This boy was definitely going to wreck me.

I squeezed my thighs tighter around his torso and used my dancer muscles to lift my body up off the wall and above his dick to give myself control over the thrusting. He loosened his grip on my ass and allowed me work his body. I felt the orgasm intensify. This was going to be a big one. I dug my nails into the back of his shoulders as the spasm began to rock my body. I released his mouth and threw my head back and yelled out. He buried his face into my neck. I could feel the smile on his face. From what I’ve been told, watching me have an orgasm is a rockin good time. I’m very vocal and tend to squeeze… everything.

The spasms finally begin to subside. He tilts his head up and whispers in my ear, “What do you want me to do to you now?”

“Bend me over,” I reply.

He gently sets me down and I get down on all fours onto my carpet.

Man I love my carpet! I purchased it months ago with Dimples at Cosco for a killer deal. It was a huge brown and cream shag carpet with to die for softness. I’ve had plenty of people sleep on it and tell me how amazingly lush and comfortable it is. Partyboy has slept on the thing a hundred times and I’ve had more then a few sexual experiences on it.

Random British Guy gets down on his knees behind me and pushes my legs open wider with his knee. As he enters me again I turn my head and tell him, “Grab my hair.”

I hear him chuckle as he grabs a handful of my hair and gives my head a tug.

“Harder,” I tell him.

He responds by pulling my head back more forcefully and thrusting into me with more power then would normally be necessary for someone as small as myself.

“Whatever you say Fun Size,” he says back to me.

He had called me, “Fun Size” the first time we met. I had made a joke about how short I was next to him after he had lifted me up onto my kitchen counter.

He responded by saying, “You’re not short, you’re fun sized.”

The name had stuck. I loved it! But not as much as I loved what he was doing to me at that moment. It had been ages since I’d had sex let alone GOOD sex and I was enjoying every moment of this.

I could tell he was getting close, but I wasn’t done playing with him just yet. I stood up on my knees and leaned my body backwards so that my back was pressed up against his stomach careful to keep his penis from slipping out of me. He grabbed my breast with one hand for support and continued to thrust into me. I turned my head so that I could kiss him and whisper in his ear.

“Lay down,” I told him.

He rolled over onto his back and I climbed up on top of him. I immediately realized that he was to large for me to properly ride him so I decided to turn around. I had learned this trick while dating Huge Asshole. With really tall guys, unless they are abnormally skinny, its difficult to ride them facing forward. Atleast for me. My knees usually barely touch the floor making it difficult for me to move. So I turned around and sat down on him backwards. I took my legs and slipped them between his legs and underneath his thighs placing my toes under his ass for leverage.

This position gives me total control over the speed and force of my thrust. The guy also gets an amazing view of my very ample ass as it slams down against his stomach.

I begin to hop up and down slamming my ass harder and harder against him. Random British guy reaches down and grabs my hips so that he can help with my aim. I throw my head back so that my hair is falling down my back, the tips grazing my back side. Men are visual creatures so I pay careful attention to everything I do. Every noise, every position and look I give is totally and utterly intentional.

Random British Guy grabs my waist tighter and lifts me up off of him and lays me on my back. He turns to face me, grabbing my legs and lifting them up and over his shoulders. I take my ankles and lock them behind his neck. I may be 33 but I’m still limber as hell. He enters me again and moves towards what I know is his finish line. He places his hand around my throat. I turn my head so that I can place his fingers into my mouth.

He’s had enough.

"Cum for my baby,” I tell him, giving him my best do me face.

He does as I ask. The boy is a screamer. Gotta love that.

He falls to the floor next me in a sweaty heap. We both lay there for a moment waiting for our breathing to return back to normal. I finally sit up and look in the mirror at myself. My cheeks are flushed and my hair is plastered to my face in a knotted sweaty mess. My makeup is smeared across my face and I can see red welts on my arms and thighs.

"I look like a crack whore," I say to no one in particular.

"You look bloody fantastic," Random British Guy answers back.

I look over at him. He is equally as sweaty and flushed as I am. He has rolled over onto his stomach giving me a clear view of the damage I caused. He has several long deep red scratches running down his back. He looks like he just woke up from a Freddy Krueger nightmare more than a little worse for wear. I decide not to alert him of what I had done. Better I let him figure out where the spots of blood came from on his shirt later when he's alone and can replay the evenings adventures on his own.

I reach into my dresser drawer and grab a black fitted tank top and a pair of booty shorts. I find that most men love for a women to look just as sexy after they finish the deed as they do before. Never slip on a pair of sweats after sex ladies! All you're doing is killing your chances for a second round.  I for one don't even own a pair of sweats. Gross.

"Well done Fun Size," Random British Guy tells me as I lay back next to him on my soft shaggy carpet.

"Right back at you," I tell him, allowing his muscular arms to pull me into his chest.

...

This almost sounds real doesn't it? Well its not.

If you haven't figured it out yet dear reader, I'm lying. This didn't happen. None of it.

Well thats not necessarily true. I've obviously pulled from real experiences to write this but I have not seen Random British Guy since he left around a month ago. We've stayed in contact. Mostly through random tweets and a few emails. The other day the two of us did get a little freaky via Skype. I had my first experience with Skype Sex. Never done that before. It was fun. Random British Guy is a talker so my experience was most definitely a positive one.

This morning we were communicating through Facebook talking about how horny we were. We were joking about having to resort to masturbating to satisfy our cravings. I told him to make sure to think of me the next time he 'took care' of himself.

His response to me was, "You're a writer. Send me a dirty story of what you'd do to me, what you want done to you, and the climax."

I laughed but then thought, "What the hell. Why not?"

I had never written anything like that before! In the sexual blogs of the past I've given away very little. I prefer to let you the reader use your own imagination. That way it protects my privacy and gives you the ability to make up what you want.

This was something new.  A work of semi pure fiction. I've always thought of myself as more of a journalist. I document my life in a way that's interesting for others to read but very seldom make anything up. I don't have to. My life kind of rocks, especially when shit goes wrong.

I guess I have a new skill. I can write porn.

I hope you enjoyed the read, my pervy readers you. My intentions were not to trick you. Just to help you to, along with Random British Guy, get off a little. What could be the harm in that?

I'm going to forward this onto my guy now.
I hope he likes it.


WCC

The Hot Lebowski

I don't know what the hell I'm doing anymore.

I've been going out on dates. Lots and lots of dates...and I hate it. I know I'm looking for something, I just not sure what.  I'm not looking for love.  How in the hell would I do that? I'm not looking for a boyfriend either. Just typing the word "boyfriend" is making me start to hyperventilate. I tried the casual sex thing, but I wasn't into it. It bored me. So what is it? What do I want?
...

I went out with a new guy last week.

We met for drinks and hit it off right away. We talked for a few hours and then did a little making out in my car after that. We made plans to watch the Big Lebowski later on that week together. I had never seen it so he decided to remedy the problem.

He was hot. Shorter and a little smaller than I prefer my men but hot enough to make up for his lack of height and girth. He was foreign, Swiss I believe. He only had a small hint of an accent so I wasn't bothered by it. Foreigners usually aren't my thing. Not that I have anything against them, I just have zero experience with dating the guys so it makes them harder for me to read.  I hate not being able to read the men I'm with! It takes the power away from me and we all know how much I like to be the one in control.

I was having a hard time reading The Hot Lebowski. He liked to stare into my eyes. I'm not sure why. I can usually tell what a man is thinking when they do something like that but not with this guy. He would stare into my eyes and I would stare right back, reading absolutely nothing. No passion, no questions, nothing.

"I like that," he said to me the first time he did it.

"You like what," I asked.

"You look right back at me," he replies. "Most Americans look away. Not you though. You stare back."

That's because I'm a cocky bitch.

"I don't see a reason to look away," I tell him instead.

"That's good, really good," he says back.

I had a good time at his place. I sat at the kitchen table watching him make me dinner. I couldn't stop grinning.  I analyzed the shit out of him as he chopped the carrots and boiled the noodles for our pasta.

He really was cute! Very manly in a small man kind of way. I wondered if I could see myself with him. I immediately knew the answer was no. He wouldn't make sense with my friends and my family wouldn't understand him. And I knew myself well enough to realize I would regret his shortness.  I need my men to be atleast 6' ...6'2" is preferred.

The Ex was a short man.  A few inches shorter than The Hot Lebowski. I didn't mind when I first met him, love is blind and all that bullshit, but after a few years I just wanted to wear heels again! So now its turned into an uncontrollable fetish. I've been feasting on tall men ever since like a fat girl who finally decides to give up on her diet and binge. The proof is in the pudding:

The Rocker - 6'
The Creeper - 6'1"
Huge Asshole - 6'2"
Partyboy - 6'3"
Random British Guy - 6'4"
The Kid - 5'8"...but that's ok. That boy is hot.

We ate the pasta, watched our movie and ended the night in his bedroom as expected. No, I didn't sleep with him! Whore week was a few weeks ago not now. I'm over that. We did do some pretty heavy petting though. I tried to keep it as PG as possible but the boy pushed. I told him repeatedly that I wasn't going to sleep with him. I believed him when he said he understood so as the night got later my rejections were fewer. He finally reached my stopping point. Being the tease I am I let him strip me down to nothing. There we were laying naked together on the bed, and I still had the nerve to say no.

I'm such an asshole.

"Ok, well we should get dressed then," he says to me.

"Alright," I tell him shifting to grab my clothes.

"Oh no you don't," he replies, pulling me to him again.

I guess he was trying to call what he thought was my bluff. Apparently he hasn't heard about my super human will power. I live to much in my head to allow any situation get carried away by my body. I'm in charge, not my hormones. 

"You can sleep here," he says to me.

"No, I need to head home." I tell him.

I didn't realize it at the time but his question was what finally got me to get dressed and leave. I didn't want to sleep there because I wasn't comfortable enough to do that with him. And if I wasn't comfortable to sleep there, I definitely wasn't comfortable enough to bone the dude.

Speaking of Dude, I wonder what that guy is up to? I kind of miss him. There are very few men out there who can call me out on my shit, but he always did. We challenged eachother and didn't let the other person pretend or pull away without a fight. He was fun. I would have had no problem spending the night with that guy. The only reason I didn't the night we hooked up was because I was to afraid of becoming his rebound girl. But I would have slept like a baby in his arms.

What I did know about THL was that he was mainly looking for sex. Not in a creepy way. An old girlfriend of his was on OkCupid and was enjoying casual sex with the local hotties on the site. She had encouraged him to do the same. From what I picked up he was just looking to meet some girls and have some fun. Go on some dates, meet new people, have some sex, whatever.

I wasn't sure where that left me? I wasn't sure what I wanted from him. I knew I didn't want a relationship. I didn't feel like hopping in the sack with him. I enjoyed his company and the making out was fun. Was that all I wanted him to be to me? A cute guy to smooch occasionally? Or was I waiting until I knew him well enough to figure all this out? I didn't know, so I left.

"Drive safe! Enjoyed tonight, thank you," he text me a few minutes after I drove away.

"I hope so," I send back. "I'm feeling a little guilty. Just know it wasn't easy for me to say no. It was just the right thing to do...but I honestly had a really good time too. Thank you for dinner. You're amazing."

"I'm glad we didn't take it all the way, really," he says. "It was sweet the way it was, don't feel guilty please. It's good to have values. No more texting and driving now, be safe."

I laugh out loud in my car. I actually think I snorted a little. I didn't feel guilty because I had values! I felt guilty for leading him on. I had told myself that I wouldn't be such a tease anymore. I should have stopped him long before our clothes came off. I knew I wasn't going to sleep with him before I even showed up. I shouldn't have made him think he had a chance.

I wish I could blame morality on it. It used to be that simple. I used to not sleep with guys because I had "values". Unfortunately that's not something I can claim anymore. One thing that Whore Week taught me was that I didn't mind having sex. Its not a big deal to me. It feels good and by golly I'm good at it!

I'm not saying that I'm done with having sex without love. I'm just done with one night stands. What I didn't tell you dear reader was that a few days after I had hooked up with Dude, I also slept with Random British Guy. He was the real reason I decided to call an end to Whore Week. I wasn't into either sexual scenarios.

It had took weeks of getting to know you chit chat bullshit and a few dates for me to he ok with sleeping with Dude. In the end we slept together once and then we were done. I put so much work into getting to know that guy in order to feel comfortable enough to sleep with him. Why in the hell would I want to to do that with anyone else again just to sleep with a guy once? What a waste of time and energy!

The one night stand I had with Random British Guy didn't feel much better. I had a good time with him that night. It was a bummer that the one night was all we had. I mean first time sexual encounters with a guy who barely knows me can never be good. It would have been nice to have had atleast one more go at it so that we could have ended it on a high note. And by a high note I mean a decent orgasm for me.

I decide not to respond to The Hot Lebowski. Let him think it was values that stopped me. Whatever. It's nice to know that atleast one guy out there thinks I'm still a prude.

Bottom line is I didn't want to have a one night stand with him. I'm not into that. I love sex! I love lots of sex. Why would I want to do it with him only once? My theory when it comes to sex is if the guy is able, I'm willing.

I guess that's part of what I want. If or when I decide to have sex with someone I don't want it to be just once. I want a guy that will be around. I'm not looking for a movie date or someone to take me to dinner. Just a guy who will exchange dirty photos with me every now and then and be available once every week or two to help me relieve some tension and get me off. Is that really so much to ask?

I have that with The Kid. The two of us have been in our "relationship" for almost 3 years now. It's perfect. When I'm in town we have a great time together. When I'm not we text occasionally, a phone call every now and then and that's it. We care for each other but hold no ownership on the other. Its good times, good sex and an occasional, "Hope you're having a nice day babe,". Perfect.

I don't want a boyfriend. I want to be single right now. No, that's not it. It's not that I want to be single, I just am because I won't settle for anything less than a Cool Rider. The Rocker knocked me off my feet when I met him. Instantly. I haven't felt that way about anyone since. I can wait, I will wait, for that to happen again. But until that does, I want to play.

I spoke very little with The Hot Lebowski following our date. I figured it was because I had hurt his pride a little. He was a really hot guy. He probably wasn't used to rejection. I could tell he had some skills in the bedroom. Over time I could see the two of us getting really good at sex together. I just wasn't interested in putting in the effort if one time was the only opportunity we had to get it right. I didn't want to take the chance of doing it once and then it being bad. I'd rather have no sex than bad sex. Just ask Partyboy. That's one lesson he had to learn the hard way...pun intended...

I went on a few dates with a couple of other guys after that. Nothing happened worth mentioning. I was getting tired. Tired of dating. The whole process was starting to feel like a job and the last thing I needed was another fucking job.

I was ready to just give up on it. On dating. I even went so far as to cancel my online dating accounts. It felt good. Lord knows I already had enough guys in the funnel to keep me blogging for weeks. I was just tired of looking. Especially when I didn't know what I was looking for.

Then something happened. Something I didn't expect. I actually went out with a guy and had a good date. Hell, not good, great.

I didn't fool around with the guy. We didn't even kiss. We hung out and talked and laughed our ass's off together. I read him a few blogs and he shared some old acting reels he had laying around of himself. We took silly pictures with his roommates light saber and discussed the world of dating. I told him I had took myself off of Cupid.

"Why would you do that," he asked.

"I'm just burnt out on it is all," I told him. "Plus I think its making me treat the guys on there like they aren't real people. I do enough disassociation with my blog. I need to stop the madness somewhere."

"I think it's a great place to meet people," he tells me. "I won't be on there for weeks sometimes. I just let it sit and go back to it whenever I feel like it.  I don't see anything wrong with just keeping it up."

I smiled. I liked this guy.

He was tall, 6' I believe. He had long slightly curly hair that fell just below his ears. It suited him. He was good looking, but not in a traditional way. His face was interesting. I wish I could have stared without coming across as rude so that I could have dissected it properly. He had a good smile. I like that. My favorite part about him was the way he spoke. He had a deep smooth voice. I don't know how he managed it but he seemed to always speak in the same pitch. He took his time when he spoke and I had the distinct impression that very little ever bothered this guy. His whole demeanor was incredibly soothing.

I knew he was right. Part of the problem was that I was always on OkCupid. I was getting frustrated because I was looking. All the time. I never look. I've always been the girl who just let things be. What the hell was I doing? Why was I looking for some magical have all perfect man?

The whole point of this blog was to date, many guys, and learn a little from each of them. Enjoy a little piece of each man until I had gathered enough of them to form what I hoped would be the perfect man.

Maybe what I'm looking for right now can't be found in just one person. Maybe for now, I do need to date more than one to get what I needed.

The Hot Lebowski is sexy as all hell. Why not just enjoy that part of him? If he's willing he would make a great friend with benefits guy.

And then there's this new guy. Not sure what I want to call him yet. I'm not even sure if I'll see him again. I hope I do. I love kicking it in his space. I could see myself hanging around his loft doing nothing but cracking jokes and listening to him give me advise about life with his soothing smooth as honey voice.

Random British Guy hit me up earlier tonight. Even from England he's managed to continue talking shit to me. I love it. We've been tweeting the most hilarious shit to eachother for days. This was my favorite:


RBG: "Is LA missing its most unreliable Brit?"

Me: "For every tourist who leaves there is always another to take his place."

RBG: "Ouch."

Me: "Kidding. I've shed a tear for every day that you've been gone. The city lights dimmed at your departure."

RBG: " Your poeticism is marred only by its severely sarcastic undertones."

Ha! Love that guy.

In a way I love them all. So that's it. That's what I'm going to do. I'm back to building the perfect man. All I have to do is figure out what I want, and take inventory of what I have. Then let the dating world take care of the rest.

Before West Coast Carrie came to be, I had originally called my book, "The Weird Science Project."

It's time to go back to my roots and finish what I started.

I guess West Coast Carrie is back.
This is gonna be fun...


WCC