My sister suggested I use Adult Friend Finder to find people to fuck.  Yes, my sister and I do tell each other about our casual sex pursuits.  I had not been having bad luck with Craig’s List, it’s just that San Francisco is a small town for a big city, and the population of people who use Craig’s List for casual sex is even smaller.  I had been getting responses to my ads from guys I had no interest in seeing again, much less fuck again.

I posted a profile on Adult Fried Finder and waited.  I got several responses, mostly from creepy old couples far out in the East Bay.  I made the mistake of being honest by saying that I was a single bisexual woman willing to participate in threesomes, what I’ve since learned is referred to as a unicorn because my kind is so rare.

One guy I met turned out to be a very nice guy.  I’ve dubbed him Lunch Guy because we usually go to lunch, have a couple of drinks, and then fuck.  Sometimes we fuck first, but we always have a nice lunch in my neighborhood.  He looks like an unassuming regular guy, but is fun and dirty in bed.  Before his cock ever went in my pussy, it went in my ass.

Another guy I initially didn’t want to meet.  When a guy is too eager, I get creeped out.  In this case, I was right.

Michael (his real name) came into my life when I was at a very low place.

We began hanging out whenever he wasn’t working.  We played a Filipino card game, the name of which I never fully understood.  We fucked, badly.

The first time we had sex it was horrible.  Really quite shitty.  We both agreed that it was bad.  Why either one of us bothered to fuck one another again I do not know.  Since I’ve had amazing sex with plenty of people, I’ll have to blame the low quality of the fucking on him.

He was the laziest fuck I have ever had.  He just laid there.  On a positive note, I feel like I’m better on top now because I had to be on top if I wanted cock in me at all.  Well, not “cock,” as I think of something big when that word is used.  He had a peter, a small little thing.

He thought his penis was average in size.  It was not.  It was small.  Small.

There was something about my depression that made this guy appealing to me.  He was tall, which I suppose is something that is considered attractive, but I generally don’t care how tall a guy is.  He had kind of cool hair, but I can work with most hair styles so long as they’re short; I don’t like long hair on guys.

I was drawn to his smell.  When he wasn’t wearing too much cologne he had a clean smell that made me loopy.  So loopy that I told him he could demand a blow job from me once per visit to my house.  I told him we could be watching tv or playing cards or having dinner and he could demand a blow job and I’d do it.

Pretty sweet deal, huh?  Well, he rarely took me up on it.  I still had to ask if I could please give him a blow job.  Often.  Why I wanted to suck that little thing so much I’ll never know unless I’m again that depressed.

He thought he was sexually skillful with his hands.  He was not.  When he fingered me I gave him plenty of feedback of the “yes, right there” and “keep doing that” sort.  Yet, he would move from right there and he would stop doing that.  It was extremely frustrating because I wanted to come, dammit.  And apparently it was frustrating to him too, because he would get mad at me for not coming, dammit.  I don’t know that he ever made me come.

Gentlemen, the last thing you should say to a woman who is taking a long time to come is, “You take a really long time to come.”  That just makes it take longer.  And it makes you an asshole.

Because Michael thought he had an average-sized penis and thought he was sexually skillful, he wanted us to have sex with other women.  More than once he requested we place an ad on Craig’s List to find a woman for a threesome.  Knowing that finding a woman for a threesome is a long and arduous process that is usually unsuccessful, I indulged him, but in reality I was embarrassed that I was fucking this guy, and didn’t want to have to see anyone’s reaction to his shitty skills, tiny penis, and looks.

He had horrible skin.  Very bad acne.  Being an acne sufferer myself I know the value of a good dermatologist and don’t understand why an adult with a job would not avail himself of the opportunity to see one.

He was fat.  Not hugely obese, but he definitely had a gut.  I suspect this gut, and the jiggling it did on the few occasions he was on top of me while fucking, was one of the reasons he wanted to be flat on his back most of the times we had sex.  Also, having to be active wore him out very quickly.

Michael had written a book of “poetry.”  There is nothing worse than a pretentious ass who thinks he’s so deep he can write poetry.  The book was dedicated to some chick with whom he’d supposedly been in love.  She had been married and broke off their affair to go back to her husband, thereby breaking Michael’s heart and causing him to pour out his emotions in poetry form.  I read some of it, but I couldn’t bring myself to read the whole thing; I wasn’t that self-destructive.

Most of Michael’s relationships had been with married women.  I was technically married during the time we saw each other, but the Ex and I were most definitely not going to get back together, and since I lived alone Michael and I didn’t have to sneak around to have sex.  Which occurred to me was the problem; I was too sexually available to him.  He liked his sex to be naughty and furtive and I was offering him a blow job whenever he wanted.  I think if I had told him I didn’t want to suck him off he would have wanted me to.

He seemed to think we had some sort of connection and often claimed we’d be friends even after we stopped seeing each other.  Even at my most depressed I was not stupid enough to think that.  I didn’t even like the guy.  He was a whiny asshole who blamed everyone else for his problems and who was deluded about his sexual prowess.  No thank you.

I don’t recall what finally ended things, only that they ended and I didn’t have to deal with him any more.  It was a relief.  Not having him around was the beginning of me getting better.

Several months after we stopped seeing each other he called me and asked me to go to his hotel to fuck him.  Apparently he had been evicted from his apartment and was living in a hotel.  Nice.

I reminded him that we had had shitty sex, and that he had refused many, many offers to suck his pee-pee back when we were seeing each other.  I told him that I had no interest in fucking him.  He was generous enough to offer to let me give him head.  No, I didn’t want to do that either.

He told me he was a hotel gigolo.  What the fuck?  He said he entertains ladies at the hotel.  Who?  What?  Huh?  I didn’t even want to know the details of what that meant, or what kind of hotel.  I did, however, feel compelled to express my incredulity at his assertion.

I stopped short of saying he had a small penis and was shitty in bed, but I think he got the message because I’ve not heard from him in a long time.

I no longer have a profile up on Adult Friend Finder.

I swear.  True story.

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