all of this trendy politicking is tickling my little dick off. this is my iz, husband of the greatest bitch i know. and don't worry, he's legal.
let's get the serious business out of the way first: this business is supposed to be how i had two first dates this weekend. and how i had sex on those two first dates this weekend. (just kidding, i'm whoring now. remember?) but dudes are huge pieces of shit made out of wasted time and disappointment, and both of those idiots canceled. and that shit made my stupid ass a little sad because, despite all evidence to the contrary, i'm a real person and i have feelings and stuff. i know, nobody likes to hear that shit. especially not from me.
i don't know, gorgeouses. i have a job not a career, i rent and might never own, and i've fucked a bunch of dudes but never been in love. tell me, again, why you read this raggedy shit.
speaking of fucking dudes, i am REALLY into phone sex. and i need someone to start calling me while not wearing any pants. i used to have phone sex with this hot dude named roy who lives in milwaukee, two maybe three years ago. and he was a little, eh, inexperienced for lack of a more appropriate word. like, he was thirty years old and had never owned any porn. EVER. for cereal. that shit was BAFFLING to me. i have 942 dvds (um, approximately) and 37 vibrators and shit. because i get stood up, remember? maybe that dude was just lucky enough to have a real-life fluffer attached to his hose all the time. pshaw. well then. we ugly-ass regular people have to masturbate. and sometimes it helps to do so while watching a smoking hot dude with a dick the size of my forearm fellate another smoking hot dude.
so anyway, for his birthday one year i took the amtrak to milwaukee (taking the AMTRAK to fuck a DUDE is depressing in the worst possible goddamned way but he was the hottest piece of shit on two legs and totally worth the 22 dollars each way), and i took a bunch of porn that i bought for him and wrapped it in little kid birthday paper because that was all i had lying around. and what is a birthday without presents?
his best present, of course, was that i holed up in a swanky hotel room at the intercontinental for the weekend and let him put his fingers in my asshole and wrap his necktie around my throat. but that probably goes without saying.
roy was a super awesome phone sex partner because i didn't have to say very much to get him going. here's the thing, when a dude bangs girls while hanging upside down or sticks needles in his testicles or whatever other freaky shit you can imagine wants you to make sweet love to his eardrums, it's difficult to come up with something hot to say. when my answer to "what are you wearing?" is "old panties i ripped but continue to wear because no one sees my panties anyway so who cares" that might not be sexy to someone well-versed in nipple clamps and anal beads.
i didn't have to come up with anything too outrageous to get him off. and that's rad for me because i'm fucking lazy. i don't have to invent new places into which he could ram his "rock hard fuckstick" or pretend that i would do something obnoxious and uncomfortable (ie, missionary) for his pleasure. it totally wins.
here is why phone sex rules:
1 you don't have to clean up. or do your hair. or put some fancy shit on. or prepare yourself in any fucking way at all. all you have to do is PICK UP THE GODDAMNED PHONE and talk in your purring inside voice. YOU don't know my legs aren't shaved and my apartment looks like afghanistan, all YOU know is blah blah blah stick your dick in my nostril blah blah you're so fucking hot blah come all over myself blah blah lick your balls DONE.
2 if you are one of these shy, demure types, you can be a filthy little scumbag whore without actually being a filthy little scumbag whore. for instance, you can moan about swallowing his burning hot cum or letting him pound you in your shitpussy even if you never have the intention of actually doing that foul shit. now it sort of helps if you plan to never actually be naked in the same room with the dude you're catching brain tumors with, because all bets are off if you meet that motherfucker face-to-face. he might be on some put up or shut up type shit. like when hair tricked me into thinking he was going to rip the lining out from a thousand miles away then was all "i don't feel comfortable making the first move" when he was in my fucking bed. pffffft. the worst kind of moistness.
3 no gonorrhea.
4 davey said to me, "please explain to me what's hot about a dude beating off in your ear," and i was like, "please explain to me what's NOT hot about a dude beating off in my ear?" porn is boring and the internet is wack. plus, sharing is caring. and i like when dudes share their fuck noises with me. now you know i like to get my rocks off at a hot dude's expense, because FUCK THEM that's why, and it makes me laugh to do other shit like washing the dishes or scooping the cat box while some dude is slumped down in the passenger seat of his car panting and moaning while jerking off into a mcdonald's bag or whatever he could find in his back seat. hilarious!
5 no BABYRRHEA.
6 the biggest disappointment you're likely to deal with is that he doesn't answer (which is why i never call dudes ever) or his shit gets cut off because he forgot to pay tmobile. he's not chewing with his mouth open or saying something dumb in front of your fucking friends, he's not asking you to pay for your own dinner or showing up for your date with a tucked-in shirt. i wish i never had to get to know any real people, because then they'd never let me down or hurt my feelings or piss me off. let's keep it virtual, baby, with a little sprinkle of ear fucking. i'm going to call the future and ask if it can arrange this shit for me. then maybe i'll tell it how wet its voice makes my panties.
quick story: i really like dudes who like things in their butts. we've established that. it makes me laugh. and don't let them fool you, THEY REALLY DO FUCKING LOVE IT. i dated this dude who is probably reading this right now because we are still "friends" (whatever that means when you used to fuck someone until he rejected you and now he sometimes texts you dumb shit when he's bored even though he has a WIFE), and he was really into prostate play. like, he's the dude who taught me how to do it. the slutty professor. he was the most delicious pervert.
at the sex show last weekend there was a question about period sex, and blow joy (from the stage) and amanda (in my ear) both said they like a man who'll do a lady on her period because it shows he's comfortable with the female body. now i am totally fucking immature, and it never occurred to me to even give a man that kind of credit. i like period sex because that shit feels AMAZING. everything's all loose and liquid and easy. mmm. and i guess i've never encountered a dude who was weird about ladyparts. no one who was weird about farting or poo or stinkiness. i am lucky in that regard, i suppose?
well pervelicious had no problem dipping his hot dog in my ketchup. sometimes i even let him stick it in my bun. (you girls who are terrified of anal should GET OVER THAT ALREADY.) and he put his FACE in my ketchup, TOO. and he sucked my fucking toes. GOSH. this probably deserves it's own post, and maybe i'll do that you just watch me, but the toe-sucking is a dream come fucking true. maybe i should just write one huge post about what i fucking like? then i'll post that shit on craigslist and just kick back and wait for the offers. except i like a lot of weird-ass shit that i'm afraid to tell the internet. because you hoes are judgmental.
okay okay okay. here is one thing that i really like that might be really strange but maybe it will make you feel less awkward and weird knowing that my silly ass likes it because you do, too. (or you've got some other sexy skeletons hanging around your closets. rawr.) I LIKE TO BE BITTEN. and not, like, normal bites. like, everybody has to take an HIV test first kind of biting. really, like a wolf or a dog or something. lots of dudes WON'T DO IT. and i get that. maybe it's gross to get skin and blood on your teeth. i went to the doctor a year ago for some regular shit and TOTALLY FORGOT that my back and arms looked like i'd been mauled by a bear, and she was like, "get out of that shirt" and, i remember this shit like it was yesterday, she was standing behind me as i pulled my shirt over my head and all i heard was the loudest gasp any human being had ever emitted in the history of earth.
i didn't even get it at first. i was all, "bitch, you've seen them rolls before," and she was like, "WHAT IN THE HELL HAPPENED TO YOU?" it still took me a minute before it clicked. it was too late for me to put my shirt back on, because that bitch had her face pressed all up to my shoulder blades. "were you attacked at work? what kind of dog did this to you?"
"a human one."
SILENCE. i'm sure there is a moment in the history of every doctor-patient relationship when the doctor finds out some shit about your raggedy ass that they just did not want to know, and this was clearly ours. i just sat there as she felt around my back, pressing the wounds. i'm sure she wanted to ask if she needed to call mariska hargitay and ice-t because this shit was obviously the result of some malicious rape, but the smirk on my face told her otherwise. "i asked for that," i said. and waited for her to faint. she IMMEDIATELY went over to the computer and started typing at the speed of light. "when was the last time we got you a tetanus shot?!"
(i'd had one a few years before, so i was okay.)
admitting your sexual filth to a new prospect is strange fucking territory. no pun intended. i always start slow and forget about being shy, because i assume this dude is eventually going to ask to take a shit in my hair or beg me to suck off his quadriplegic uncle or some shit. "i like teeth" is usually my cute way of asking someone to put his on me, and if he's too slow to get it (i told you that i sleep with idiots) i say, "you can bite me, you know." if he's hesitant, i'll let him finish what he started, but i never will sleep with him again.
i don't understand the whole, "i stay with him, but he doesn't do THAT" thing. for the rest of your life, bumping uglies with a dude who doesn't do something that gets you off? pffft. i can cut myself with a razor and masturbate. at least then i can just get a band-aid and go the fuck to sleep. the doctor was like, "explain this to me. i'm curious." and i didn't know what she meant at first. like, WHY do i like it? or HOW did that happen?
this weekend cara and i took a class called "exploring your erotic side" or some fruity shit like that. while i SHOULD HAVE been out gazing into the cold, dead eyes of some neanderthal asshole. my life sucks. anyway, after giving a short presentation about tapping into our bodies' "sexual command centers," the teacher (a woman named diane who was swathed head-to-toe in shimmery scarves and crystals and ankhs) was like "make a list of all the hot shit you like." she didn't really say that, but i don't know how to speak new age. there were maybe twenty of us in the class, two hot pieces of ass and a bunch of middle-aged losers whose lists included things like "emotional connection" and "soft kissing." i know that because everyone had to read his or her list aloud. RIGHT.
that bitch told us to be honest, so i was. and i might get kicked off the internet if i write my whole list, but let's just say "cuddling during the afterglow" didn't make the fucking cut. this sad ass sack of shit dude wearing dockers and flip flops (BARF) got up and was like, "i just want someone who loves the real me," and the whole group awwed and wiped tears from their eyes, then the teacher was like, "samantha, why don't you share with us next?"
first of all, i wrote my shit on a starbucks napkin because i never remember to take paper to shit like this and all my notebooks were at home because i thought we were going to get margaritas, not sit in a classroom with effeminate high school gym teachers and grouchy bitches who work for h&r block. fuck!
cara covered her eyes (sissy) as i got up and read:
-dudes sitting on my face.
-biting to the point of bloodshed.
-blood-clotty period action.
-hanky panky spanky.
-being the boss.
-when a dude licks my butthole.
-getting slapped in the face.
-sticking household items in a dude's no-no hole.
-listening to a dude beat his meat.
-getting my feet licked.
-being man-handled and pushed around. in a nice way.
so i didn't know she was going to make us read our lists. but i'm not ashamed of mine. while everything here is pretty much true (i saved the napkin and copied that shit VERBATIM), out of context it makes me look like a crazy fucking whore. cara burst out laughing halfway through, and one of the ladies (WHO WAS WEARING A SWEATSHIRT WITH A KITTEN EMBROIDERED ON IT) walked out right after i said "butthole." i can't be responsible for people's uptight bullshit, so eff her. plus, that bitch said "sensual stroking" when she read her list, causing me to almost choke on my goddamned iced tea. hilarious.
i may be a disgusting pig, but PLEASE put me out of my misery if you ever hear me say some shit about wanting to be sensually stroked. wack. i want some asshole to snatch me by the hair and rip out a chunk of my shoulder with his teeth, not sit around knitting and playing checkers until we go to bed at eight-thirty and pet each other on top of our clothes. gross.
a few of those scandalized bitches were salty as hell, but some of those caterpillars started turning into butterflies, shyly admitting that they like to ride it raw and shove some dude's face in it first thing in the morning. i lit right up listening to that shit, giggling my ass off as this woman named sandra talked about how cialis gave her husband two-hour erections and that she had to use lubricant suppositories to keep everything supple. meow!
ultimately, the lesson we learned was to embrace our inner dirtbag slut (that may have been samantha-specific) and to never be ashamed of our sexual needs. because we are all sexual beings who deserve pleasure.
goddamned right. now get over here and let me put this socket wrench in your butt.