How Many is Too Many?

When it comes to sexual partners, how many is just too many? I don’t mean all at once, but over a life span. Let’s face it, very few of us women are remaining virginally pure for the marriage bed these days, and most of us don’t end up with the man who first deflowered us. (Real good thing for me on that point). The issue of sex normally comes up pretty quickly in most relationships, sometimes even on the first date. Then there’s the inevitable dilemma…should I or should I not give up the kitty?
I have to be honest. There’s been a number times when my mind was telling me no, but my body, my body was telling me yes…So I sucked the dick, got the kitty licked, and did plenty of bumping and grinding, but stopped short of going all the way (to put it proverbially). I really was saying no solely because I was scrupulously keeping count of how many men have penetrated the poonani and I have just never wanted to be guilty of sleeping with “too many” men. But I’ve never really defined what that number is…Is it 10, 20, 50? Maybe it doesn’t even matter and I’ve been passing up some delectable dicks over the years for no good reason.
Then there’s the issue of whether to tell the true number if my man ever asks this touchy question…How many men have you been with? I would hate to give the “wrong answer”. According to my dear mother, a woman should never answer this query, period. We all know there’s a double standard between men and women in this area. If a man says he’s been with 80 different women, I would think he is a freak and a bit promiscuous, but possibly still deal with him, depending on the other variables, (including disease status). But I think if a woman said she had been with 80 different men…she would be looked down on by men and women alike.
Another aspect to this topic is whether oral sex counts as actual sex. Personally, I’m from the camp that says Bill Clinton did not lie- that he truly DID NOT have sexual relations with Monica Lewdwinsky. To me its not sex unless a pregnancy or a hemoroid could result from the act. If not, let’s see how many orgasms we can have… Some men may say I was teasing…but in truth, I was just trying to keep the penetration numbers down…I mean damn- blue balls never killed a man!
I don’t really know what made this topic come to mind other than contemplating that I am off to a rather slow start in meeting my back from Egypt resolution of fucking no less than 100 times this year. I would love to hear from everyone else. How many guys can I fuck before I am officially a hoe?

Why did I?

What gave me the right to think that I could live happily ever after? That I could find a love to call my own...

Why did I dream of a place I could call home, breaking all the codes that I have known to be true and even if it wasn't right?

Why did I think I could survive on love? Why did I think I could toss pot, cigarettes and xanax out the window in favor of a stable life with a one I had learned to love?

Why did I ever.........

So I'm back from outer space where lovers live...for a brief moment I lived in eupendi where passion fruits grew sweet and it was so divine that I nearly lost my mind and forgot who I was for a little while.

I've heard it said that it is better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all, do I believe that? Not necessarily. To have and then not to have is the bitterest pain I have felt in a long time.

One person's love in exchange for mass love? Does it really make sense?

To hold yourself aloof from the afflictions of ordinary people is to live a little.....

I'm depressed. being away for a while gave me a taste of the other side of life, now I have made my choice.

The starry flight to the top is a darned lonely one. To be loved and adored is a beautiful feeling, but is love ever really enough? Not to my thinking...one can stay wholly in love only for a little while and the rest of the time, it's an uphill task.

Which would I rather have? The love of one person - knowing that I am the most important person in their live or the love of everyone and be left alone out there in the cold while everyone goes home to their loved one and significant other?

Is it better to walk the pure waters of self love or the murky depths of loving someone else...

Your guess is as good as mine.

I'm back

The Conversation man

He comes to me for conversation, total concentration and the comfort I provide him sometimes. He knows that this is what he would always find with me.
Sometimes I give him apples and cheeses; I keep it simple and very "country". He brings me songs to play for him on the grand piano Edward bought me a while ago.
He sees me when he pleases - I only get to see him in places where I can mutter hello and turn away from him before his Missus realizes how much I want to see him.
I hate the fact that she removes him like a ring to wash her hands at these exotic affairs, beckoning like a royal only when she wants to show him off to her friends.
I truly want to free him. Free him from her clutches.
Strangers exchanging secrets and sharing sodas is how all this began. Sharing love stories gone awry with a friendly stranger has plunged me into something I'm not so sure of.
But I still listen to his questions and endless agonizing over his pet peeve, "does she still love me?" and I give my answers when I find the right things to say.
He says she keeps him guessing and on edge, but I know she keeps him down. Her snotty voice and uppity manners are a cover for the sham she calls her marriage. She calls him darling and turns up her cheeks to be kissed in public and when she says to him, "I love you", I don't believe her.
But I really have no right to judge those who have chosen to remain under the "honorable" blanket of marriage. I have chosen to walk another path and though I want to free him, I don't want him for keeps. It's just a bit intriguing to find a man that comes to me only for conversation; the songs I play for him; apples and cheeses.
Tomorrow he'd come to me and talk endlessly of his sorrow and ask me why he cannot leave her. He only comes to me for conversation; I comfort him sometimes.

And The Party Ended

I would have loved to write about the party, but I have something that is more pressing to me at the moment than the party itself - so I shall write about that instead.

After the last guest had cleared out, I sank into the couch yawning delicately as I flipped my blond hair back. "Christ in heaven!", I sighed looking at the guy I had played hostess to for the night. He still looked as fresh as he did the moment he walked into my door. (I swear to god, if I hadn't met him, I'd be out on the streets finding him, I'd be walking down every avenue finding so that I could just sit right where I was sitting staring into his handsome face and "loving" him the best I can.

"You are beautiful, you know", he said in that bland unflappable way that made it difficult to reconcile his two different personalities in and out of bed...suddenly I hated him. Doesn't make sense I hear you say...she loved him a minute ago and now she hates him...well, I can assure you that this happens to everyone sometimes, besides I don't ever feel the need to justify how I feel - I'm a Mercedes after all.

Idle conversation for a couple more minutes and he goes off to my kitchen to make himself coffee. He is the most difficult man on earth; even my maid (the most reliable and efficient of all maids on the planet) finds it difficult to please this man.

Watching him idly stroll out with a cuppa in hand and not a thought, not a question about my wanting some coffee or anything else after pulling off this highly dangerous venture of holding a big "do" for a married, internationally famous man with the most brilliant minds and still keep this out of the papers and away from "other people"!!!

I rose from my lounging position in one seamless motion, snatched the coffee out of his hand and spilled it all over him. His face froze, his nostrils flared as he fought for control.

Standing right in front of him daring him to do anything more than just breath in and out deeply, I was satisfied when he said in his most normal voice, "I think we should carry on this conversation in your bedroom away from prying eyes".

Then we got to the room, he stripped as he walked in draping his clothes carefully on the back of the chair, I disrobed quickly and joined him in bed...and he couldn't get it up!!!!!!!

Is the Mercedes a bit rusty or did the Mercedes miscalculate? I hope to god that his not being able to get it up was entirely due to his own problems...

Bottom line is this, I behaved like a skank, whore, bitch today...once the party was over I pulled on this mask of ghetto chic and I just have to tell "y'all", I hated it. I felt like a cheap fiat today.

My little sex pot

A young friend dropped by last night after my shopping spree. It's not often this happens being that i don't really have too many young friends especially the female sex. Besides I'm usually entertaining my "friends" at that time of day. But I was free last night because like I said in my last post, I'm getting ready for some heavy duty entertaining over the weekend.

She is really young and a new girl in the neighborhood. I noticed her first watching me through the window of my bedroom as I undressed a couple of weeks ago. She stared as interestedly as a pubescent boy would. I found it totally hilarious and put on quite a show for her, strolling around the room as I got rid of my clothes.

I was heading out on a date the first time she spoke to me. I was wearing my NY uniform - a black knit dress, black patent leather YSL pumps, a patent leather belt, my black Chanel bag and discreet diamonds on ears, neck and fingers. Standing in front of the door waiting for the door man to get me a cab, she walked by and then turned back and walked by again (trying to screw up the courage to say something I guess) then she passed a third time and said, "do you like sex?".

I raised a cynical eyebrow...NY is not a good place to socialize with unknowns, especially unknowns who have spied on you through your bedroom window. She broke into a smile as she walked on by. The transformation the smile brought to her plain face.

A couple of days later, she came by mine. I was pleasantly surprised at her coming by unannounced.

"I came to get your reply, she announced".
"I enjoy things I'm good at. It's a bit like being a talented poet or athlete", I replied.
"I see", she said even though she still looked a bit puzzled. Then she said something else that cracked me up. "Will you teach me how to be a sex pot?"

Anyway...she came by for her first lesson last night. I enjoy her company and she seems so entirely unspoiled. I won't be teaching her anything except American history...I hope.

Target Lair

Last night I was a Target, minding my own business, looking for some knives and forks. I have some heavy entertaining to do over the weekend, and while I trust my maid completely, this was something I wanted to do myself. I was standing around in the aisle, mulling over the decision- frosted or shiny forks?

Anyway, this older gentleman walks over and tells me he likes “it”, referring to the frosted forks. I was like really? I’m trying to make up my mind…He proceeded to tell me which kind he recently bought for his new house, etc. He told me he was recently divorced and setting up house on his own and how much fun that was…blah, blah, basically telling me how he had it going on.

So I was like if the package is so tight, why did he get divorced. He claims that the ex-wifey quit wanting to have sex, and I was like well you must not have been handling your business then.
So then here are the lies he responded with: He stated that they used to have sex EVERY single night 4-5 times a night and that she used to come every single time, but that she just had “issues” with sex… YEAH right! LIAR. LIAR. I don’t believe that is humanly possible, unless he was on some meds!

At this point I wanted to start moving away from the man cuz I just knew a bolt of lighting was going to strike him where he stood for the lies!!! When I told him I had to be going, he said I was exactly his type and that could he get the number…I have to say I was flattered cuz its not like I was looking super fly and I do have a thing for older guys…But I do loathe liars and pepetrators and his dick is probably going to fall off due to all the lies the man was telling…

But I am just curious how many times can the average guy do it in a night and how many times in a month? Can anyone really do the do EVERY single day?

Courtesy and Respect

Courtesy and respect makes me feel special, safe, appreciated. These emotions translate to attraction, arousal, wet pussy. It makes me feel like a woman and I in turn want to put all my womanliness on you in the bedroom- at which time you can dispense with the manners and treat me like a whore. lol. (I mean it) Except don’t cum in my hair if I tell you not too…oops let me stay on track here.

Anyway, those are just some general tips, and I hope people share some thoughts as well. After completing today’s lesson, go out and show some good manners, then report back. That is your homework, unless you are too busy enjoying the new pussy that you earned through your chivalry. In that case you get an extension on the assignment.
Class Dismissed