(no subject)
Happy Bday Corrina. I won't even thank you for inviting me. Oops.. will that get me banned from your list again? Meh. I don't fucking care anyways.
I've accepted my solitude. I think it's essential for my well-being and self-discovery anways. LJ just pisses me off most of the time too. No comments, no audience. I don't all this crap for myself. No friends.
But Jessica, you're so negative! FUCK YEAH! I'm miserable and the fucking world is falling apart, how should I be?
I swear. I could be standing on a bridge ready to jump and SCREAMING for someone to just have a conversation with me, and with one exception or two, you bitches would not even notice. And I say bitches in the nicest possible way. As someone with no friends left to lose.
I'm just lonely and cranky. I know that when I do lose weight and suddenly everyone accepts me, I am going to be terribly resentful. It'll make me hate my Grandma and my Dad even more. "Oh, you look so great!!" I can hear you all now. Like, now you're thin you're ok. I've seen it happen to many ex-fatties and it's appaling. Only now, at 28, do I realise what a profound effect this fat has had on my life. How much I've avoided, feared and neglected because it's still ok, for whatever reason, to make fun of fat people.
Now I just wasted a whole break writing this stupid shit that only I will read.
Bikini Kill rocks and I got an email from Stink Mitt.
99% sure writing is the right path for me now. An example:
The banner “extra clean!”, attached to a 5 speed Mazda Miata with alloys, reminds me, suddenly and painfully, in the middle of my workday, of my own wasted squeaky clean state last night. This could be classified under “I should have known better” or “I knew what would happen” or “When collecting on sexual favors make sure you collect first, Woman”. The line between bitter and almost-bitter? If ever there was a line, it’s gone. I peed all over it last night squatting in an alleyway during a break from trying to get picked up at a bar. Now, try to imagine a man who’d bedded hundreds of women in his life and had never gotten a decent blow job, and the crappy ones he did get were sparse and had to be begged for. Just imagine how that man would feel, when all around him, his friends were getting blowjobs, seemingly all the time, without even having to ask for it. Wouldn’t you feel bad for him? Ok, that might be a bit far-fetched, but this man might naturally start to think that something was wrong with him, wouldn’t he? Oral sex is not terribly uncommon, is it? It sounds like people are doing it all the time.
Sadly for me and all of the men and women who are missing out on my tongue work, I am not one of those people. This is becoming a very trying situation indeed, one which is beginning to permeate my every waking thought. In my attempts to score a lick, I’ve tried not asking for it, being coy, hard to get. That didn’t work for the first half of my sexual life and hasn’t so far. Then I tried being the best cocksucker I could be, hoping that eventually my enthusiasm for oral sex would transfer to my partner. No such luck, and too much disgusting semen was washed down the drain to continue with that plan. I even tried sticking it out with a homeless guy last summer who was covertly trying to move into my place in some bold attempt to mooch off of me. I was so in need of lickage that I allowed my sensitive scent glands to suffer through a whole week of bent cock, bad breath, strange grandmother smells and runny, salty eggs while he went down and down and down. No excessive showering required, he really loved it, even in the morning, or after a workout, everything. Eventually I told him he smelled bad and it was just such a turn off when he became possessive too. I can’t think of a more powerful sexual deterrent than anything, in any way, resembling or reminding me of my grandmother. So, thoughts of Nanna while having my pussy licked and sucked to orgasm is out.
On to plan F. Shaving. Keeping it bare, no stray hairs, surely that would do the trick along with 5 daily showers. No such luck. Shaving didn’t even illicit a second glance from most of these 5-pump chumps. I then tried the most direct approach yet; I started asking for it. No easy task for someone lacking in confidence, and it didn’t get any easier. I learned an important lesson: With one weak exception, in my experience if they don’t do it down on their own, they never will, and if by chance they do, they won’t do it properly. There’s more hope of finding Elvis alive and well and living with his lover Adolf Hitler in a Jewish hippie commune than of converting a cunt-phobic lousy lover.
Only in one situation did years of pleading help and eventually get my crown a teenie weenie lick. My ex-boyfriend, who still yearns to fuck me even though I seriously lost interest 2 years ago, finally proclaimed one day that he wanted to “try it. See how it tastes”. I told him beforehand that it would taste salty, and even though he basically repulses me now, I let him have a lick. Considering he’s Iranian and ultra-stubborn, this tiny lick was a huge step. I even smiled as I remembered the day I showed him a sketch of a man licking a woman’s cunt, asking for some similar action, and got a firm “Noooooo” and a lesson I later dubbed What Comes Out Of A Woman’s Frightening Hole,101. Apparently, piss coming out of a cock is WAY different than piss coming out of a cunt. Oh, and the blood. Blood and piss, neither of which are present unless you’re menstruating, actually pissing or have poor hygiene. Which I do not. And it’s not like I asked him as I sat on the toilet farting and tinkling to lick me there. “Right there, above where that PEE is coming out”! I even offered to shave and have him clean me in the shower. Bring a flashlight if you want, just to make sure every tiny urine droplet is gone. I wouldn’t even bring it up unless I was freshly washed. Nope. I asked him a few more times over the 2 years we were together, and despite repeatedly putting his piss-and-cum-spurting cock into MY mouth, I was unsuccessful until earlier this year.
I attribute his change of heart partly to desperation/deprivation and partly from having everything except rare late-night molestation privileges taken away from him. No kissing, rubbing, intimacy, and certainly no cocksucking. No action and no desire to have any sort of sex unless I was terribly, terribly desperate. I know he sensed this and I suspect he was trying to re-ignite my desire for him in a lame attempt to recapture the hot, hard sex we used to have. Even though this may seem like a victory for me, it’s lackluster. I really don’t want to be with him, which is likely the very reason he wants me. Also, as I said to Allison, possibly the only woman I know who is less satisfied sexually than I am, if they have to be asked repeatedly for a simple thing like oral sex, it’s just really not worth it. Either they get down there for all of two seconds and come back up all beaming, proud and ready for praise and a condom, or, they just disregard instructions and do whatever they want to do, most of which is done with hands anyways, and often painfully, since they can’t seem to remember that a clitoris is not an unpeeled orange needing to be dug into. And what? Do they think we can’t tell the bloody difference between a finger and a tongue? And this is usually never a repeat performance. They have this attitude like they’ve really sacrificed something and shouldn’t be expected to stoop so low again. Besides, the only thing I actually need a man to do is suck the places I myself can not reach, so why’s he acting like “World’s Best Lover” three years in a row when he’s doing nothing to turn me on except rubbing his cock against my ass and tweaking my nipples occasionally when my free hand gets tired? Could be because of the horrible double standards in our society, or maybe it’s just a side-effect of porn culture? But even porn stars get eaten out. Could be because I still enjoy sex, but I haven’t truly been satisfied in years. Moaning and screaming don’t equal satisfaction. Maybe It’s because I date people primarily born in other countries where men “don’t do that” but yet still expect a woman to be as lecherous as possible. Do I have to stop having sex until I get what I want? Will that even work?
It didn’t work last night, even after an oral-for-oral agreement was made with my neighborhood bootie call. I was led to believe, by way of blatant omission, that I would get some tongue action last night. He was obviously hinting at something with questions like “what do you want to do”? What do I want to do asks my bootie-call. What do I want to do?? When is the last time, I wondered, that we did anything other than fuck late at night in the past year? Sensing a bargaining opportunity, I asked “what do you want”? and he said, he wanted me to suck his cock. Of course I knew that was coming as he’d asked for it last time, but I wanted to make that fucker ask, just like I always have to. I told him we could make a deal. “And I want you to suck my pussy” I said. I should have known by the sound of the “Oh yeah”? that it would never happen, but we had a deal and a deal is a deal. I said “we can BOTH do it, ok”? to which he agreed. Which brings us back to the need for women to get what they want before the cock-on-a-stick blows his load and starts snoring. I keep repeating these mantras in my head now: Men who are horny will say anything for access to a warm, wet hole. Men will say anything when they are close to a climax. Men lie and they can not be trusted. Never agree to “wait your turn”. Take your turn first or you may go to sleep unsatisfied and in tears and smelling of latex. Men who enjoy pleasing women are never found in my bed. They’re white and Latino, and they’re sound asleep next to their thin white girlfriends who never suck cock.
So, he moans and moans and I know what’s about to unravel, so I stop and lie down, playing with my nipples, figuring I am, as per usual, on my own in reaching orgasm. Must every man be shown everything? Must everything be requested and suggested, time and time again? Unsurprisingly, with no ESP needed to predict his next line, he says “give me a condom”. A firm NO (NO?) prompts him to climb between my legs and rub his cock hard against my clit. This is NOT a substitute for oral sex and I’m getting bored. Neither is fingering me or playing with my nipples or asking me if I like your BIG cock. Yeah, I like it, but if you don’t do something to turn me on RIGHT NOW I’m gonna ban it from my hole forever or just slap out of my sight! Just to clarify, lover, slapping my ass or fingering my asshole or offering me anal sex isn’t going to appease me, especially after I just told you that I DO NOT like it. I swear! The next man who even mentions my asshole without going near my cunt is either going to be shat on or have my Red Devil gummy dildo jammed up HIS ass while he sleeps, and we’ll see how he likes to have his ass fucked. There are so many things which anger me about this that I can’t even begin to list them all in my own head. Hasn’t feminism brought us anywhere or have the sluts just destroyed it for the rest of us who don’t want to live in a porno?
So, I say NO to a condom. I look at him. I can tell he’s scared and worried that he might not come tonight. Yeah. Welcome to MY world, asshole. I know that he knows that I know that he knows what I want, and I know that I won’t get it. He even acted confused for a minute, like what I was really saying was simply “no condom”. But he knows that “no condom” means “no sex” and so he finally asked what I wanted to do. “You know what I want, we just talked about it on the phone”. Even though he KNEW what I wanted, AND he knew that he wasn’t going to do it, he made me ask for it anyways. Bastard! “You know what I want now give it to me” prompted another fearful “no... what do you want”? With a modicum of hope I asked him to suck me, pointing down with my eyes. And this is where he narrowly escapes with his cock intact, thanks to my superb ability to incorporate my violent desires into healthy fantasies. “Oh...” he says, like this is some shocking request on par with “Would you wipe my shitty ass with your tongue”? or “Can I use your eyes as a dartboard”? and says the absolute worse thing he can say, because I hate predictability and I am bitter, “... I don’t do that”. Then he smiles, and my gut response, how it played out in my mind, is to punch him HARD in the stomach so that he can’t breathe, so that he can feel my shock. After risking my health to please you by putting your leaky cock in my mouth, you now refuse to hold up your end of the deal? After sensing my outrage, he first acts dumb, like “what deal”? followed with a “Oh, I’m just tired”. Very original, did you come up with that bullshit excuse on your own? After you just said “I don’t DO that”, that’s not going to work. Yeah, ok then, I’ll just wait until next time and hope you won’t be so tired. Obviously you’re not too tired to drag your sorry ass out of bed at 2am, walk over to my place and stick your dick in my mouth. Not too tired to fuck me and slap my ass, right? “You don’t DO that”? I say, as if this is something other than what I’ve been expecting all along. We’ve been fucking for a year and he’s never gone down. Telling him that was his last blowjob, hope he enjoyed it, illicited a smile. Not getting the point, I think to myself. Still thinks I am joking. Time to cruel it up a bit. Saying “OK. NOW I’m pissed and I’m going to sleep”, then rolling over and closing my legs translated in his language to “mount me and rub yourself against my thigh”. “Get the FUCK off of me” followed with a nasty kick was enough to get the dog off my back.
Then, a possible breakthrough. I decided that, since I feel so bad about myself all of time, am constantly doubting my own sexuality and womanhood and asking stupid questions like “what’s wrong with me”? and “do I smell bad”?, I might as well make HIM feel like the uncaring lover he is. Even though I felt slighly guilty, asking him, seriously “What kind of man ARE you, anyways?” got a response. “Ok” he said, eager to prove his “manhood”, “let me do it”. At this point, however, a full harem of sexy, naked Spanish pussy lickers would have had no effect whatsoever on my libido. I told him not to bother if he didn’t want to. I would never enjoy that, all 5 seconds of it, if I knew he wasn’t into it. Plus, he has teeth like a horse, and I was afraid he’d use them on my clitoris in haste, but it had since retreated back inside it’s carrying case. I had to say it, not because I ever thought otherwise, but because he acted so selfishly and had heard me moan all those times before. I wanted that slate wiped clean, the slate where his memories of my pleasure lie, the slate where he considers himself a good lover. He has no more right to those, I thought, so I deliberately did what I usually do best by accident: I hurt his feelings. “You’re just like every other fucking guy I know. You’re all the same!” He sounded quite wounded by this and asked that I not compare him to other people. Snort. Laugh. Pfff. “Why not? You men want everything from us and you never give ANYTHING back. I did everything for you and you won’t even do one thing for me!” I think being offered anal sex as some sort of substitute was what pissed me off the most, although the ass slap, appropriate at other times, could have been the deal breaker.
THIS is the very reason I have has to adopt rules about blowjobs, my sex mixed with politics. I typically do not give them anymore. Not because I don’t enjoy it. Au contraire, I greatly enjoy pleasing my partners. It turns me on to give them pleasure. Balancing that with the fact that virtually none of my current or past lovers have ever gone down on me is depression-inducing. It’s so infuriating to be expected to suck cock, but pussy is seen as dirty or scary and something not to be explored. I didn’t know what else to do but use their own lines on them. “The thought makes me nauseous” or “Sorry, I don’t DO that” and sometimes “We don’t DO that where I come from”, as though people from New Brunswick are crazy anti-oral activists. This didn’t work any better than “Lick me and I’ll lick you”. I actually gave up something I like, sucking cock, because I was becoming resentful enough that I feared some poor guy would get bitten one day and I’d get charged with “sexual assault”. The definition of sexual assault should be changed to something like this: “Receiving any sexual act, performed by a lover, that is not then returned in some mutual exchange of pleasure at your lover’s request is forbidden. Leaving your partner unsatisfied or refusing to engage in unpainful and appropriate sexual activities at your partner’s request is considered unlawful. Furthermore, using inappropriate response methods, such as slapping an ass as a substitute for full massage, is also considered a violation of the “Fair Sex Act” and the “Tit for Tat” resolution of 2006. Those who can not abide by these rules have no business in the sexual arena and will be fined for misconduct”. The fines collected will then go to all of the poor girls like me who are left with few alternatives aside from purchasing Manwhores. We need some sort of mutual climax clause to protect women from premature squirters. Imagine the judicial process. I encourage all women, at least once, to reach orgasm first, then simply turn over and go to sleep. Snore. Loudly. Refuse to engage in any conversation about the man not reaching orgasm, or tell him to “ wait until the morning”. Say you’re too tired and make sure your vagina is inaccessible, because the vast majority of them will just keep humping at any available angle and soak you. Sleeping on the floor or sofa may be required, but the inequalities will astound you. Plus, keeping a man from coming is a great way to get his attention.
Finally, will I decide that perhaps what I’d heard was true, that maybe “it’s just black guys”, that they “don’t like to go down south”? Ok, that might be true. The myth about their big black cocks turned out to be more reality. Unfortunately, black guys are one of the only options for a cute fat girl in Toronto. Black guys and creepy old South Asian immigrants in slacks, loafers and button-up polyester shirts are about the only dudes who check me out these days. And even the black guys seem to have lost interest. I never get any action in the summer when all the thin girls (AKA EVERYone but me) are out in their Saturday-night street-corner best looking for attention. Men are pretty much all the same. It’s taken me a good decade or so of disappointment, public rejection, embarrassment, lousy sex and anger to reach that conclusion, and very little at this point could persuade me otherwise and yes I’ve announced my bitterness. If I lose weight for you people will you finally just accept me into your fashionable little social circles and listen to my bullshit chit-chat right alongside your own? Men, will you finally just lick my fucking pussy? PLEASE! Am I just too fat? No. My fat friends get it all the time. Even a malodorous friends gets it almost daily. I clean my cunt so extensively sometimes that it hurts. I lay on my bed, for a solid hour, with clean hands, feeling every square inch of my snatch, looking for any kind of odor, bad or otherwise, but there is nothing but that clean crotch smell. Could it just be the lovers I choose? Could my ex-Iranian be right? Am I just too easy? Withholding sex from him seemed to do the trick, although 10 seconds of mediocre oral sex isn’t something to brag about. But he was cemented on the “HOPELESS” list and he still went down. Is it possible to break through these ridiculous cultural taboos? Can I sacrifice cock for just the possibility of oral sex? Is it fair to refuse someone I really want to fuck just to prove some point? Yes. I must demand more. I deserve more. I deserve a lover who is like me: Sensual, provocative and willing to do anything to please me. To all of my past lovers who may be reading this, with the exception of Carlos the Player and Crazy Mike, none of you sorry fucks make the cut. Your lame attempts at pleasing me were nice at the time, but your juvenile refusals to give me what I deserve and need place you at the bottom of my list of “exciting encounters” and right at the top of my “wasted time” memories. Just because you pound me and make me scream does not mean that I am satisfied.
So, not asking for it didn’t work. Asking for it didn’t work. Withholding it maybe worked, but the refusal to engage was genuine and not a tactic. I haven’t sucked cock, with the exception of last night, for at least a year. That didn’t work either. Pretty much the only method I haven’t tried yet is just straddling their heads like they have so often done to me. I must try this.
Perhaps I am simply not desirable, or maybe I am, as a friend suggested, “just dating the wrong race”. I don’t know how much longer I can take this. My self-esteem is dwindling away to nothing and the only thing that makes me feel better these days is fantasies about men with stretched out assholes and bruised egos. Maybe I am too easy and I have to be more selective. My pool is drying up and my options are becoming limited. Perhaps a paradigm shift is what is really needed here, not only for me, but for women everywhere. Equality is not a bad thing. Neither is pussy. They need not be feared.
Men: Your sexual love slave is right here. I am waiting for you to accept my challenge and switch roles. Let me take the lead and sit on your face and stop fucking when I’m through. If you please me, respect me, and slap my ass only in the middle, like I asked, I will perform your every wish. Just don’t treat me like your whore unless you’ve got the Robert Bordens or Benjamins to back it up. If you do, I’ll turn on a song to get me in the mood for ego-crushing: “It’s tit for tat, slit for crack... What I’m givin to you, you’re gonna give back!” Then we’ll rock to Stink Mitt until I come and you’ve got blue balls. I don’t need your dick to fuck, your praise to prop me up and I don’t give a fuck about how horny you are. Now it’s MY turn, bitches.
I've accepted my solitude. I think it's essential for my well-being and self-discovery anways. LJ just pisses me off most of the time too. No comments, no audience. I don't all this crap for myself. No friends.
But Jessica, you're so negative! FUCK YEAH! I'm miserable and the fucking world is falling apart, how should I be?
I swear. I could be standing on a bridge ready to jump and SCREAMING for someone to just have a conversation with me, and with one exception or two, you bitches would not even notice. And I say bitches in the nicest possible way. As someone with no friends left to lose.
I'm just lonely and cranky. I know that when I do lose weight and suddenly everyone accepts me, I am going to be terribly resentful. It'll make me hate my Grandma and my Dad even more. "Oh, you look so great!!" I can hear you all now. Like, now you're thin you're ok. I've seen it happen to many ex-fatties and it's appaling. Only now, at 28, do I realise what a profound effect this fat has had on my life. How much I've avoided, feared and neglected because it's still ok, for whatever reason, to make fun of fat people.
Now I just wasted a whole break writing this stupid shit that only I will read.
Bikini Kill rocks and I got an email from Stink Mitt.
99% sure writing is the right path for me now. An example:
The banner “extra clean!”, attached to a 5 speed Mazda Miata with alloys, reminds me, suddenly and painfully, in the middle of my workday, of my own wasted squeaky clean state last night. This could be classified under “I should have known better” or “I knew what would happen” or “When collecting on sexual favors make sure you collect first, Woman”. The line between bitter and almost-bitter? If ever there was a line, it’s gone. I peed all over it last night squatting in an alleyway during a break from trying to get picked up at a bar. Now, try to imagine a man who’d bedded hundreds of women in his life and had never gotten a decent blow job, and the crappy ones he did get were sparse and had to be begged for. Just imagine how that man would feel, when all around him, his friends were getting blowjobs, seemingly all the time, without even having to ask for it. Wouldn’t you feel bad for him? Ok, that might be a bit far-fetched, but this man might naturally start to think that something was wrong with him, wouldn’t he? Oral sex is not terribly uncommon, is it? It sounds like people are doing it all the time.
Sadly for me and all of the men and women who are missing out on my tongue work, I am not one of those people. This is becoming a very trying situation indeed, one which is beginning to permeate my every waking thought. In my attempts to score a lick, I’ve tried not asking for it, being coy, hard to get. That didn’t work for the first half of my sexual life and hasn’t so far. Then I tried being the best cocksucker I could be, hoping that eventually my enthusiasm for oral sex would transfer to my partner. No such luck, and too much disgusting semen was washed down the drain to continue with that plan. I even tried sticking it out with a homeless guy last summer who was covertly trying to move into my place in some bold attempt to mooch off of me. I was so in need of lickage that I allowed my sensitive scent glands to suffer through a whole week of bent cock, bad breath, strange grandmother smells and runny, salty eggs while he went down and down and down. No excessive showering required, he really loved it, even in the morning, or after a workout, everything. Eventually I told him he smelled bad and it was just such a turn off when he became possessive too. I can’t think of a more powerful sexual deterrent than anything, in any way, resembling or reminding me of my grandmother. So, thoughts of Nanna while having my pussy licked and sucked to orgasm is out.
On to plan F. Shaving. Keeping it bare, no stray hairs, surely that would do the trick along with 5 daily showers. No such luck. Shaving didn’t even illicit a second glance from most of these 5-pump chumps. I then tried the most direct approach yet; I started asking for it. No easy task for someone lacking in confidence, and it didn’t get any easier. I learned an important lesson: With one weak exception, in my experience if they don’t do it down on their own, they never will, and if by chance they do, they won’t do it properly. There’s more hope of finding Elvis alive and well and living with his lover Adolf Hitler in a Jewish hippie commune than of converting a cunt-phobic lousy lover.
Only in one situation did years of pleading help and eventually get my crown a teenie weenie lick. My ex-boyfriend, who still yearns to fuck me even though I seriously lost interest 2 years ago, finally proclaimed one day that he wanted to “try it. See how it tastes”. I told him beforehand that it would taste salty, and even though he basically repulses me now, I let him have a lick. Considering he’s Iranian and ultra-stubborn, this tiny lick was a huge step. I even smiled as I remembered the day I showed him a sketch of a man licking a woman’s cunt, asking for some similar action, and got a firm “Noooooo” and a lesson I later dubbed What Comes Out Of A Woman’s Frightening Hole,101. Apparently, piss coming out of a cock is WAY different than piss coming out of a cunt. Oh, and the blood. Blood and piss, neither of which are present unless you’re menstruating, actually pissing or have poor hygiene. Which I do not. And it’s not like I asked him as I sat on the toilet farting and tinkling to lick me there. “Right there, above where that PEE is coming out”! I even offered to shave and have him clean me in the shower. Bring a flashlight if you want, just to make sure every tiny urine droplet is gone. I wouldn’t even bring it up unless I was freshly washed. Nope. I asked him a few more times over the 2 years we were together, and despite repeatedly putting his piss-and-cum-spurting cock into MY mouth, I was unsuccessful until earlier this year.
I attribute his change of heart partly to desperation/deprivation and partly from having everything except rare late-night molestation privileges taken away from him. No kissing, rubbing, intimacy, and certainly no cocksucking. No action and no desire to have any sort of sex unless I was terribly, terribly desperate. I know he sensed this and I suspect he was trying to re-ignite my desire for him in a lame attempt to recapture the hot, hard sex we used to have. Even though this may seem like a victory for me, it’s lackluster. I really don’t want to be with him, which is likely the very reason he wants me. Also, as I said to Allison, possibly the only woman I know who is less satisfied sexually than I am, if they have to be asked repeatedly for a simple thing like oral sex, it’s just really not worth it. Either they get down there for all of two seconds and come back up all beaming, proud and ready for praise and a condom, or, they just disregard instructions and do whatever they want to do, most of which is done with hands anyways, and often painfully, since they can’t seem to remember that a clitoris is not an unpeeled orange needing to be dug into. And what? Do they think we can’t tell the bloody difference between a finger and a tongue? And this is usually never a repeat performance. They have this attitude like they’ve really sacrificed something and shouldn’t be expected to stoop so low again. Besides, the only thing I actually need a man to do is suck the places I myself can not reach, so why’s he acting like “World’s Best Lover” three years in a row when he’s doing nothing to turn me on except rubbing his cock against my ass and tweaking my nipples occasionally when my free hand gets tired? Could be because of the horrible double standards in our society, or maybe it’s just a side-effect of porn culture? But even porn stars get eaten out. Could be because I still enjoy sex, but I haven’t truly been satisfied in years. Moaning and screaming don’t equal satisfaction. Maybe It’s because I date people primarily born in other countries where men “don’t do that” but yet still expect a woman to be as lecherous as possible. Do I have to stop having sex until I get what I want? Will that even work?
It didn’t work last night, even after an oral-for-oral agreement was made with my neighborhood bootie call. I was led to believe, by way of blatant omission, that I would get some tongue action last night. He was obviously hinting at something with questions like “what do you want to do”? What do I want to do asks my bootie-call. What do I want to do?? When is the last time, I wondered, that we did anything other than fuck late at night in the past year? Sensing a bargaining opportunity, I asked “what do you want”? and he said, he wanted me to suck his cock. Of course I knew that was coming as he’d asked for it last time, but I wanted to make that fucker ask, just like I always have to. I told him we could make a deal. “And I want you to suck my pussy” I said. I should have known by the sound of the “Oh yeah”? that it would never happen, but we had a deal and a deal is a deal. I said “we can BOTH do it, ok”? to which he agreed. Which brings us back to the need for women to get what they want before the cock-on-a-stick blows his load and starts snoring. I keep repeating these mantras in my head now: Men who are horny will say anything for access to a warm, wet hole. Men will say anything when they are close to a climax. Men lie and they can not be trusted. Never agree to “wait your turn”. Take your turn first or you may go to sleep unsatisfied and in tears and smelling of latex. Men who enjoy pleasing women are never found in my bed. They’re white and Latino, and they’re sound asleep next to their thin white girlfriends who never suck cock.
So, he moans and moans and I know what’s about to unravel, so I stop and lie down, playing with my nipples, figuring I am, as per usual, on my own in reaching orgasm. Must every man be shown everything? Must everything be requested and suggested, time and time again? Unsurprisingly, with no ESP needed to predict his next line, he says “give me a condom”. A firm NO (NO?) prompts him to climb between my legs and rub his cock hard against my clit. This is NOT a substitute for oral sex and I’m getting bored. Neither is fingering me or playing with my nipples or asking me if I like your BIG cock. Yeah, I like it, but if you don’t do something to turn me on RIGHT NOW I’m gonna ban it from my hole forever or just slap out of my sight! Just to clarify, lover, slapping my ass or fingering my asshole or offering me anal sex isn’t going to appease me, especially after I just told you that I DO NOT like it. I swear! The next man who even mentions my asshole without going near my cunt is either going to be shat on or have my Red Devil gummy dildo jammed up HIS ass while he sleeps, and we’ll see how he likes to have his ass fucked. There are so many things which anger me about this that I can’t even begin to list them all in my own head. Hasn’t feminism brought us anywhere or have the sluts just destroyed it for the rest of us who don’t want to live in a porno?
So, I say NO to a condom. I look at him. I can tell he’s scared and worried that he might not come tonight. Yeah. Welcome to MY world, asshole. I know that he knows that I know that he knows what I want, and I know that I won’t get it. He even acted confused for a minute, like what I was really saying was simply “no condom”. But he knows that “no condom” means “no sex” and so he finally asked what I wanted to do. “You know what I want, we just talked about it on the phone”. Even though he KNEW what I wanted, AND he knew that he wasn’t going to do it, he made me ask for it anyways. Bastard! “You know what I want now give it to me” prompted another fearful “no... what do you want”? With a modicum of hope I asked him to suck me, pointing down with my eyes. And this is where he narrowly escapes with his cock intact, thanks to my superb ability to incorporate my violent desires into healthy fantasies. “Oh...” he says, like this is some shocking request on par with “Would you wipe my shitty ass with your tongue”? or “Can I use your eyes as a dartboard”? and says the absolute worse thing he can say, because I hate predictability and I am bitter, “... I don’t do that”. Then he smiles, and my gut response, how it played out in my mind, is to punch him HARD in the stomach so that he can’t breathe, so that he can feel my shock. After risking my health to please you by putting your leaky cock in my mouth, you now refuse to hold up your end of the deal? After sensing my outrage, he first acts dumb, like “what deal”? followed with a “Oh, I’m just tired”. Very original, did you come up with that bullshit excuse on your own? After you just said “I don’t DO that”, that’s not going to work. Yeah, ok then, I’ll just wait until next time and hope you won’t be so tired. Obviously you’re not too tired to drag your sorry ass out of bed at 2am, walk over to my place and stick your dick in my mouth. Not too tired to fuck me and slap my ass, right? “You don’t DO that”? I say, as if this is something other than what I’ve been expecting all along. We’ve been fucking for a year and he’s never gone down. Telling him that was his last blowjob, hope he enjoyed it, illicited a smile. Not getting the point, I think to myself. Still thinks I am joking. Time to cruel it up a bit. Saying “OK. NOW I’m pissed and I’m going to sleep”, then rolling over and closing my legs translated in his language to “mount me and rub yourself against my thigh”. “Get the FUCK off of me” followed with a nasty kick was enough to get the dog off my back.
Then, a possible breakthrough. I decided that, since I feel so bad about myself all of time, am constantly doubting my own sexuality and womanhood and asking stupid questions like “what’s wrong with me”? and “do I smell bad”?, I might as well make HIM feel like the uncaring lover he is. Even though I felt slighly guilty, asking him, seriously “What kind of man ARE you, anyways?” got a response. “Ok” he said, eager to prove his “manhood”, “let me do it”. At this point, however, a full harem of sexy, naked Spanish pussy lickers would have had no effect whatsoever on my libido. I told him not to bother if he didn’t want to. I would never enjoy that, all 5 seconds of it, if I knew he wasn’t into it. Plus, he has teeth like a horse, and I was afraid he’d use them on my clitoris in haste, but it had since retreated back inside it’s carrying case. I had to say it, not because I ever thought otherwise, but because he acted so selfishly and had heard me moan all those times before. I wanted that slate wiped clean, the slate where his memories of my pleasure lie, the slate where he considers himself a good lover. He has no more right to those, I thought, so I deliberately did what I usually do best by accident: I hurt his feelings. “You’re just like every other fucking guy I know. You’re all the same!” He sounded quite wounded by this and asked that I not compare him to other people. Snort. Laugh. Pfff. “Why not? You men want everything from us and you never give ANYTHING back. I did everything for you and you won’t even do one thing for me!” I think being offered anal sex as some sort of substitute was what pissed me off the most, although the ass slap, appropriate at other times, could have been the deal breaker.
THIS is the very reason I have has to adopt rules about blowjobs, my sex mixed with politics. I typically do not give them anymore. Not because I don’t enjoy it. Au contraire, I greatly enjoy pleasing my partners. It turns me on to give them pleasure. Balancing that with the fact that virtually none of my current or past lovers have ever gone down on me is depression-inducing. It’s so infuriating to be expected to suck cock, but pussy is seen as dirty or scary and something not to be explored. I didn’t know what else to do but use their own lines on them. “The thought makes me nauseous” or “Sorry, I don’t DO that” and sometimes “We don’t DO that where I come from”, as though people from New Brunswick are crazy anti-oral activists. This didn’t work any better than “Lick me and I’ll lick you”. I actually gave up something I like, sucking cock, because I was becoming resentful enough that I feared some poor guy would get bitten one day and I’d get charged with “sexual assault”. The definition of sexual assault should be changed to something like this: “Receiving any sexual act, performed by a lover, that is not then returned in some mutual exchange of pleasure at your lover’s request is forbidden. Leaving your partner unsatisfied or refusing to engage in unpainful and appropriate sexual activities at your partner’s request is considered unlawful. Furthermore, using inappropriate response methods, such as slapping an ass as a substitute for full massage, is also considered a violation of the “Fair Sex Act” and the “Tit for Tat” resolution of 2006. Those who can not abide by these rules have no business in the sexual arena and will be fined for misconduct”. The fines collected will then go to all of the poor girls like me who are left with few alternatives aside from purchasing Manwhores. We need some sort of mutual climax clause to protect women from premature squirters. Imagine the judicial process. I encourage all women, at least once, to reach orgasm first, then simply turn over and go to sleep. Snore. Loudly. Refuse to engage in any conversation about the man not reaching orgasm, or tell him to “ wait until the morning”. Say you’re too tired and make sure your vagina is inaccessible, because the vast majority of them will just keep humping at any available angle and soak you. Sleeping on the floor or sofa may be required, but the inequalities will astound you. Plus, keeping a man from coming is a great way to get his attention.
Finally, will I decide that perhaps what I’d heard was true, that maybe “it’s just black guys”, that they “don’t like to go down south”? Ok, that might be true. The myth about their big black cocks turned out to be more reality. Unfortunately, black guys are one of the only options for a cute fat girl in Toronto. Black guys and creepy old South Asian immigrants in slacks, loafers and button-up polyester shirts are about the only dudes who check me out these days. And even the black guys seem to have lost interest. I never get any action in the summer when all the thin girls (AKA EVERYone but me) are out in their Saturday-night street-corner best looking for attention. Men are pretty much all the same. It’s taken me a good decade or so of disappointment, public rejection, embarrassment, lousy sex and anger to reach that conclusion, and very little at this point could persuade me otherwise and yes I’ve announced my bitterness. If I lose weight for you people will you finally just accept me into your fashionable little social circles and listen to my bullshit chit-chat right alongside your own? Men, will you finally just lick my fucking pussy? PLEASE! Am I just too fat? No. My fat friends get it all the time. Even a malodorous friends gets it almost daily. I clean my cunt so extensively sometimes that it hurts. I lay on my bed, for a solid hour, with clean hands, feeling every square inch of my snatch, looking for any kind of odor, bad or otherwise, but there is nothing but that clean crotch smell. Could it just be the lovers I choose? Could my ex-Iranian be right? Am I just too easy? Withholding sex from him seemed to do the trick, although 10 seconds of mediocre oral sex isn’t something to brag about. But he was cemented on the “HOPELESS” list and he still went down. Is it possible to break through these ridiculous cultural taboos? Can I sacrifice cock for just the possibility of oral sex? Is it fair to refuse someone I really want to fuck just to prove some point? Yes. I must demand more. I deserve more. I deserve a lover who is like me: Sensual, provocative and willing to do anything to please me. To all of my past lovers who may be reading this, with the exception of Carlos the Player and Crazy Mike, none of you sorry fucks make the cut. Your lame attempts at pleasing me were nice at the time, but your juvenile refusals to give me what I deserve and need place you at the bottom of my list of “exciting encounters” and right at the top of my “wasted time” memories. Just because you pound me and make me scream does not mean that I am satisfied.
So, not asking for it didn’t work. Asking for it didn’t work. Withholding it maybe worked, but the refusal to engage was genuine and not a tactic. I haven’t sucked cock, with the exception of last night, for at least a year. That didn’t work either. Pretty much the only method I haven’t tried yet is just straddling their heads like they have so often done to me. I must try this.
Perhaps I am simply not desirable, or maybe I am, as a friend suggested, “just dating the wrong race”. I don’t know how much longer I can take this. My self-esteem is dwindling away to nothing and the only thing that makes me feel better these days is fantasies about men with stretched out assholes and bruised egos. Maybe I am too easy and I have to be more selective. My pool is drying up and my options are becoming limited. Perhaps a paradigm shift is what is really needed here, not only for me, but for women everywhere. Equality is not a bad thing. Neither is pussy. They need not be feared.
Men: Your sexual love slave is right here. I am waiting for you to accept my challenge and switch roles. Let me take the lead and sit on your face and stop fucking when I’m through. If you please me, respect me, and slap my ass only in the middle, like I asked, I will perform your every wish. Just don’t treat me like your whore unless you’ve got the Robert Bordens or Benjamins to back it up. If you do, I’ll turn on a song to get me in the mood for ego-crushing: “It’s tit for tat, slit for crack... What I’m givin to you, you’re gonna give back!” Then we’ll rock to Stink Mitt until I come and you’ve got blue balls. I don’t need your dick to fuck, your praise to prop me up and I don’t give a fuck about how horny you are. Now it’s MY turn, bitches.