CAN’T CLOSE THE FLOOD GATES

I don’t recall when I saw the first women squirt. But it seemed like overnight, the world was suddenly obsessed. Every time I searched for porn, my feed was bombarded with women gushing all over the screen. As squirting gained popularity, it became every man’s mission to make me squirt. From dating apps far and wide, once the topic changed to sex, every man would gloat about how he made this girl and that girl squirt. They all proclaimed to have the magic touch; however, when it came to me, they were never successful.  

The first time I squirted was after seven hours of masturbating, and several clitoral orgasms. I felt my body quiver, and then I released a steady stream of fluid. The release happened a few more times when I was having sex, but the amount never matched what I saw in porn. At the beginning of my sexual revolution, it caused me to question my abilities. But, as years passed, I learned that some women didn’t squirt; and I was ok being one of them. That all changed when I purchased my Liberty Womanizer.   

It’s true what they say; once you open the flood gates, they can never be closed again. Night after night, I would pleasure myself and, every time my sheets would end up soaked. I squirted at a sex party while sucking my man’s dick. I even squirted with another partner as we masturbated side by side. My Womanizer never failed me. And, when I started using my Womanizer during anal, it was no different. While my ass was being impaled, and my Womanizer sucked my clit, every orgasm was multiplied and liquified, at the same time.   

During my duo-partner threesome, I used my Womanizer; and like clockwork, I released a gush of fluid all over his bed when I reached my orgasm. My primary and I were used to it, but I could tell that he was a bit shocked (to say the least). It wasn’t the first time I used my Womanizer with him, but it was the first time I squirted with him. The surprise and excitement of it all must’ve been too much for him because he never finished. However, the next time we met he knew exactly what he wanted.  

I arrived at his apartment and immediately got comfortable. He poured me a glass of wine, and we sat down on the couch. We talked a little bit; then he put my glass down. He stood in front of me and pulled out his dick. I had told him over the phone that I was itching to suck his dick, so he wasted no time. As I sucked his dick, he massaged my breasts, and my pussy got soaking wet. I sucked, gagged, and slurped until he exploded in my mouth, but I didn’t stop there. I continued to play with his cum, and as it mixed with my saliva, I let it drip onto my breasts and the floor. When he couldn’t take anymore, he pushed me away, and I giggled as I fell back against the couch. He went to the bathroom, and when he returned, we went into the bedroom.   

He undressed me while delivering me passionate kisses, and once I was naked, he went down to devour my pussy. It was messy and intentional, and with his finger pleasing my ass, he brought me to a phenomenal orgasm. I was ready for him to fuck me, but he wanted to explore my pussy a bit more. He licked his left fingers and slowly inserted his middle, followed by his index finger into my pussy. As I responded to his fingers, he slipped his right index finger into my ass and finger-fucked me into submission. When he was satisfied, he turned me onto my side and ran his fingers up and down my moist openings. My pussy yearned for his dick, and I was eager to be fucked, but he was in bliss, teasing me. I started to grow sexually frustrated, then he whispered in my ear, “I want to fuck your ass.” — Say Less!  

He slid the condom onto his dick as I grabbed my Womanizer. I bent over on all fours and lifted my ass in the air. He delivered a few licks to my booty-hole, and when I placed my Womanizer on my clit, he slid right in. As he pushed passed the tightness of my opening, I bit my lip in response. He gripped my waist tighter and began to pick up his pace. Each thrust, combined with the stimulation on my clit, brought me closer and closer to orgasm. When I felt myself reaching the peak, I screamed at him, “Fuck my ass!” and he pounded into me repeatedly. I felt my ass clench around his dick, and with an exhale, my pussy exploded. He continued to fuck my ass as I continued to shower him with my juices. A mixture of screams and obscenities filled the room, then he delivered his final thrust and moaned, “Fuck!” When he was done, with my face still buried in the mattress and my gaping ass in the air, I turned to him and said, “That’s what you wanted all along, didn’t you?” He simply answered, “Yes.” I passed out onto the bed, and after he tossed the condom, he joined me. When we both woke up, about an hour later, I took a quick shower and headed home.   

During the Uber ride home, I thought to myself how surprised he was when I squirted on him during the threesome. But, the second time around, he pressed all the right buttons to make my body do precisely what he wanted. The first time, I apologized; but this time, it was all induced. So, when I got dressed and saw that his sheets were still wet, I knew that his mission was accomplished.   

WHAT IF…

A few years ago, I found my first herpes support group on Facebook, and on the façade, it seemed very supportive. Messages of “Keep your head up!” Be strong, you’ll find someone!” and “It wasn’t meant to be.” seemed to flood the daily feed. Even though I knew I wasn’t the only person living with herpes, it was great to finally see and hear other people’s stories. The overall morale of the chats was positive and uplifting, which for a newly diagnosed individual can be essential. However, every so often, I would come across a post asking for advice and support.   

I feel terrible, and I need your advice. Last week, I was drinking, partying, smoking (whatever) with my friend. Things got out of control, we had sex, and I forgot to tell them about my herpes status. I feel terrible, and I want to tell them, I just don’t know how to.  

It didn’t take long for me to realize that once the comments have been disabled, it was safe to assume that the poster was virtually attacked. Similar posts often bring out, what I like to call, The Bully-Brigade. The Bully-Brigade is the barrage of people that come together to virtually bully anyone whose actions and views don’t align with theirs. With comments like, “You’re a terrible person.” “How could you forget…” and “People like you should be locked up!” — The Bully-Brigade has struck again.  

The comments and attacks vary, but the one that sticks out the most is the one of blame. It’s the person that says, “You know, many of us wouldn’t be here if our partner had told us. If my partner had told me that they had herpes, I never have had sex with them. You should’ve given them a choice.”   

This one always bugs me, because they so conveniently forget that they, in fact, did have a choice. To have consensual sex, without knowing your partner’s sexual health status, was a choice. The power to control the sanctity of my body is my responsibility, and the same for your body. Do you not eat when you’re hungry, drink when you’re thirsty, or sleep when you’re tired? So, why when it comes to sex, is it only the other person’s responsibility to protect you? I don’t say this to point blame, I say this to take accountability.  

Think of your body as a new car you just bought. You wouldn’t give the keys for your new car to a person whose driving record you didn’t know and whose license you haven’t seen, would you? No! You wouldn’t! But if you did, and they crashed it, was it not your choice to hand your keys over to them, in the first place? We don’t take that risk with material things, but we assume that risk with our bodies every day. From the moment I laid eyes on my partner, once I know I want to have sex with him, the responsibility to ensure my sexual health is mine, and mine alone. It was my responsibility to make sure that he posed no threat to me, and the choice I made to not verify his status was, in fact, A CHOICE.   

Over the years, I learned to stop arguing with The Bully-Brigade; because they had already made up their mind that their positive diagnosis was someone else’s fault. What I try to do now is pose the question, what if…  

You say — “If they had told me they had herpes…” I pose the question — “What if you had asked…?”  

What if they told you they were clean, because the test they took didn’t include herpes? Therefore, they had no way of knowing they had the virus.   

What if they had the test that included herpes, but because they recently acquired the virus, the antibody test came back negative? (It took 9 months for my antibodies test to detect herpes).  

What if you had used condoms? (I used condoms when herpes was transmitted to me).  

What if they told you they had a history of cold sores? Marketing doesn’t make it clear that cold sores and herpes are the same virus. Many people don’t think that their cold sores are herpes or that they can impact their partner’s genital region. What if this information was made clear to the masses?  

What if doctors did a better job of educating patients before, during, and after their diagnosis? What if they pointed patients to support groups after their diagnosis, instead of giving them a prescription and sending them on their way?  

What if sex education was clear and transparent, and inclusive of all sexual behaviors, sexualities, and sexual health? What if consent and boundaries were mandated? What if the stigma was never able to exist because people were educated on the truth of all sexually transmissible and non-sexually transmissible viruses?  

What if testing were made easier for all to access? What if when I asked to be tested for everything, I was tested for EVERYTHING?  

What if we stopped shaming sex, sexuality, and people with STD/STIs?  

What if you’re herpes positive, you disclose to your partner, but you don’t ask to see their results in return? (Is that not, once again, handing someone the keys to your car without checking their license, all-over again?)  

What if asking about a person’s sexual health was as easy as saying hi? What if asking to see a person’s test results (and getting them), was as easy and pleasurable as having sex?  

What if they never assaulted me?  

What if the dad, the aunt, the uncle didn’t kiss the toddler, and pass them the herpes virus?  

What if the mother didn’t kiss her child and pass them the herpes virus?  

What if you had waited another 3-9 months to get re-tested before having sex?   

What if you had waited to go and get tested together?  

What if you had asked your partner their sexual health status?  

While the what-ifs are endless, none of them can guarantee that you still wouldn’t have ended up with herpes virus. With all the precautions that you could’ve taken in your adolescent or adult life, you still could’ve acquired the virus before ever taking your first steps. At the end of the day, we’re all here. So, instead of focusing on what if, focus on the future. A lot of why we feel what we feel is stigma. So, instead of trying to change others, maybe we can change our perception. And with that, we can change the stigma. 

TWO MEN WALK INTO A BAR

I made the decision to live my true polyamorous life in January 2019; in February, I met M. He was my first poly partner, the first to eat my ass, and the first man I used a butt-plug with. Almost weekly, we had phenomenal sex, he ate my pussy just right, and he was a freak like me. In May, I met A, my primary partner. Over time, it occurred to me that they had a lot in common. So, in December, I set up a group chat (Two Men Walk into A Bar), and a week later, we all met up.   

I arranged for us to meet at a Mexican restaurant, by my job, and on the walk there, I was extremely nervous. I was confident that they would get along, but I was worried that the male ego might get in the way. However, once we were seated, everything went off without a hitch. Over dinner and a few margaritas, they got to know each other and talked on how much they both enjoyed fucking me. It was, to say the least, a great introduction date.  

After our date, the conversations in our group chat became highly sexual as we tried to plan out the details for our threesome. A few times, they attempted to rush the plan, like the horny men that they are; but I wanted to make sure the event was not rushed. As weeks and months passed, I wondered if our long-awaited threesome would ever happen. Then, a week before New York City went on lockdown, the stars finally aligned.  

We arranged to meet at M’s on a Sunday afternoon. I met A when I got off the train, and we walked together to his apartment. Once there, we sat down and talked over some wine. I could tell that M was nervous, as it was to be his first threesome, but I assured him that he would enjoy himself. After a while, we all went into the bedroom to get things started. We got undressed, and with me sandwiched between them, I started kissing my dates for the evening. M began to lick my nipples, A started to eat my pussy, and I sucked M’s dick. I released a loud scream as I was delivered my first orgasm of the day; afterward, he slipped on a condom to fuck me until he reached his orgasm. As he went to clean up, M changed positions and went down on me, and in no time, he delivered me my second orgasm. Still riding my orgasm, M bent me over and fucked me from behind as I sucked A’s dick. Since attending my first sex club, I had been in quite a few MFM threesomes before. But fucking strangers versus men that I actually had cared for, was a totally different experience; it was totally euphoric.   

An essential role in being the woman in an MFM threesome is to make sure all people involved are paced and having a good time. After round one, A was ready to keep going, while M suggested a moment of rest. Men, enjoying an MFM threesome, often forget that a woman’s body, not only, needs to reset, but is also her possession. My body has to be enjoying every second of the encounter. So, because my arms, clit, and vagina had just put in serious work, despite A’s resistance, I made the decision to rest. We weren’t on a clock; therefore, there was no need to rush. We took a nap, and when we were all ready, we started up again.   

At the start of round two, I wanted it doggy-style, with M lying on the bed and A behind me. He lubed up and proceeded to fuck me in the ass, and with my Womanizer on my clit, like clockwork, I collapsed onto M’s lap as I rode my trembling orgasm. My ass needed a break, so I let my mouth do the work for me. With deep passion, I sucked, licked, and swirled my mouth and tongue back and forth around their dicks, and when I was ready, M positioned himself behind me.  

With my ass in the air and my face buried in A’s lap, M licked and bit at my ass. He slipped one finger in and then another, and knowing what was coming next, I grabbed my Womanizer. As he slid into my booty-hole, my body instantly began to tremble. Each thrust felt like heaven, and, once again, with my Womanizer on my clit, my orgasm began to build. As he picked up his pace, my body started to lose control. When my orgasm finally peaked, each outcry of orgasm was accompanied by a burst of squirt. I had no control over what was coming out of my body, but I kept the Womanizer placed over my clit. And with every breath, I exploded again and again. I could tell he was taken aback and aroused at the same time as he was showered in my juices. Fearing that my screams could be heard up and down the Grand Concourse, I buried my face into the bed and rode out the rest of my orgasm through muffled screams. When my tank was finally empty, I fell onto the bed; and after four orgasms, I was officially done.   

After we showered, we got dressed and took a walk. Walking down the street with my guys, I felt empowered, sexy, and magical. As stated before, MFM threesomes are always amazing; but partaking in one with partners you care for, that care for you in return, was the cherry on my Sunday. 

WAIT A MINUTE, MR. POSTMAN

I don’t know about you, but since this whole Covid-19 lockdown has been in place, I’ve been spending a lot of money shopping on amazon.com. From acrylic nail kits, hair, leggings, and hoodies, I’ve been buying up a storm. It’s been over a month, and sitting in this house has driven me mad, with a massive case of buyer’s virus. If you’re in the same boat as me, you may have been doing the same. You may have also noticed that the delivery people no longer make contact. Since social distancing started, the delivery people simply knock on the door, drop the package, and keep it moving. I had grown used to this; then, I got a package that required a signature.   

On this particular day, the rest of my household was out. I had ordered a MacBook Air, and I didn’t want to risk missing the delivery, so I decided to stay home. I did a few video workouts and hopped in the shower. Right when I finished, I heard the doorbell ring. I threw on a towel, put on a pair of flip-flops, and ran down the stairs. As I ran into the kitchen to get a knife (something I always did), I yelled at the delivery man, “One Minute.”   

When I opened the door, my breath was stolen. He was tall, had gorgeous blue eyes, brown hair, and a very fair complexion. If it wasn’t for the mask covering his face, I would’ve thought he was Tommy from Power. Lost in the moment, I drank him in, and I could tell he was doing the same to me. He looked at my moist afro, to my still damp shoulders. I felt him visualizing my figure underneath my towel, and when his eyes locked in on my feet, he licked his lips. I felt my body getting hot as he analyzed every visual inch of my body. When his vision reconnected with mine, with a nervous yet sexy voice said, “I’ve got a package for you.” I took a deep breath, I felt my body grow hot, and my nipples began to perk up. With my arousal building, I replied, “I’m sure you do.” I reached for the package, and when his gloved hand grazed mine, it was like a fire was lit. With our eyes locked, he pushed open the door and entered my house.   

He pulled down his mask and began kissing and biting my neck. As he nibbled my ear, he pressed his body up against mine. I felt his muscles underneath his shirt, and I could feel his rock-hard chest pressed up against my breasts through my towel. My pussy was throbbing as I felt his dick grow hard through his uniform. When he sat me on the stairs, my towel fell open. He bent down and took my left foot into his mouth. He licked and sucked at every toe and left a trail of kisses up to my thigh. When he got to my pussy, he licked his lips then began to explore my opening. He ran his hands along the inside of my legs as he sucked my clit into orgasm. With the wood edge of the stairs pressing into my back, my body jerked with pleasure. Aroused, I pulled his lips to mine to savor the flavor of my pussy. I opened his belt and pants to free his hard dick, and god was it beautiful. He was long, with a perfect girth and full of veins. I could tell that he’d been without sex since the lockdown, and I was more than happy to drain him dry.  

I ran to my room to grab a condom, and when I came back down the stairs, he was more than ready for me. He turned me away from him and began licking and nibbling my bootyhole. He delivered my ass cheek a vicious slap, then slid deep into me. Every thrust into my pussy pushed me hard against the wood stairs. The pain was undeniable, but the pleasure of him being deep inside of me felt so good I didn’t want it to end. He wanted to get a better angle, so he pulled me up and walked me to the kitchen. When he sat down on a dining chair, his dick stood up at attention; and with pure carnal lust controlling me, I slid my wet pussy down the length of his shaft. I rode him until my pussy was sore, and as I felt my muscles vice-grip around his dick, I let out an orgasmic roar.   

After I regained my composure, I could still feel his dick hard inside me. As I raised off his lap, I wanted him to finish me in the worst way possible. I bent over the kitchen table, giving him easy access to take full control of my body. I heard him whisper, “fucking perfect,” then he entered me. By this time, all his finesse had left, and all the remained was pure animal. He pounded me over and over, delivering slap after slap to my ass. He pulled my hair back with one hand, while he choked me with the other. Then, right before he was about to cum, he let go of my neck, sucked at his thumb and stuck it in my booty-hole. If he had kept it there a bit longer, I would’ve had another orgasm. But right as I felt it growing, I heard him yell out, “FUUUUUCK!” then he collapsed onto my back.  

After a moment, he pulled out of me with a condom full of milky cum. He went up to the bathroom to freshen up, and when he came back down, we locked eyes; then I noticed his wedding ring. He must’ve seen me looking, but when he went to speak, I stopped him.  

“–Shh! Don’t ruin the moment. If we never see each other again, what does it really matter?” He had just fucked my brains out, delivered me two orgasms, and helped me live out a long-time fantasy. I offered him a bottle of water, which he accepted, then he went on about his day.   

I know a lot of you are probably thinking, “She ain’t shit!” But we were both lost in the moment, and talking about it (after the fact) wouldn’t change a thing. 

SIZE DOES MATTER

No, this is not your typical big dicks are the best rant. If you’ve been following my blog since the beginning, you already know that I despise small dicks (aka gherkins, aka little pickles). The other day I was walking while listening to the Whoreible_Decisions podcast, and they had on Jet Setting Jasmine, a public figure who is also the wife of King Noire (public figure, master fetish trainer, and etc.). During the episode they touched on the topic of his dick size, which is huge. They’re have an open marriage, and she mentioned, in a joking way, that she outsources certain sexual acts, and anal was number one. If you’ve ever seen his dick, it’s clear to see why. So, just as some dicks are too small, there are dicks that some women consider too big. So, I came up with this classification that is not based on measurements but based on personal preference. 

First, I’ll start with GAP.  

No, this is not short for gaping pussy and booty holes. GAP stands for Good in All Positions. This dick length and size may feel better in some positions, but, in general, it’s suitable for all. There’s nothing more annoying than riding a dick that keeps slipping out. Sure, sometimes the pussy can be juicy, but more often than not, the dick is just a few inches shy on the ‘You need to be this tall to ride this ride’ ruler. A dick that feels good in missionary, doggy-style, various riding positions, anal, and fills the mouth just right is a GAP dick.   

The second classification is the DSO dick.  

DSO stands for Doggy Style Only: this is the dick that only feels good in doggy-style because it is trash in all other positions. It is trash in missionary, it’s trash when riding it, it’s trash from the side, and it offers no challenge when getting sucked. This dick only feels good in doggy-style; with your ass high up, lots of lube, and your face so far down, it’s under the mattress.  

The first time I encountered a DSO dick, it took me by surprise. It was attached to a chocolate man with a rock-solid body. He was tall and skinny, so I was beyond confident that his dick would be just as long as he was tall. When I pulled his pants down to suck his dick, I wondered where it was; it was short and fat, in the most unflattering way. I did the best job I could at sucking it, hoping that he was a grower and not a shower, but what I saw was what I got. I bent over on all fours hoping that maybe he’d feel better. I felt him push past my opening then nothing else. He was pumping for dear life, and I felt nothing. My back was arched, and my ass was so high in the air that a satellite could’ve looked into my anal cavity. But nothing I did made the sex feel any better. It was him that first debunked the myth that all black guys were packing because his luggage was definitely lost.  

The next classification is NFA, and that stands for Never Fucking my Ass.   

If a dick can be too small, one can also be too big. A dick that I deem to big will never get the chance to fuck my ass. Now, sure the first time I had anal was with a guy with an 8″ dick, and I loved it; but he took his time. He made sure I was very aroused, moist, and then he slowly entered me. Each and every thrust felt lovely, and when we had our fill, he switched back to my pussy. For almost a decade, I refrained from anal, and then slowly, I was able to find partners that I deemed suitable for my ass. Their length isn’t super-long, and their girth isn’t too thick; their dick is just right.  

The final classification is MLBS, and that stands for Must Lick Before the Stick.  

MLBS is the dick that, upon first sight, seems to lack sustenance, and it doesn’t look like it can satisfy. However, after he eats the pussy and makes me cum when he slides into me, it feels like heaven. Some positions may feel better than others, but none of them will feel bad.   

My first time encountering an MLBS was when I returned from Mexico. I started talking to him via OkCupid, while I was still on vacation. He messaged me that he wanted to eat my pussy, and since I was feeling free, I agreed to let him once I got back. I met him, and we went to his place. He ate my pussy on the couch in the living room and delivered me an incredible orgasm. When it was time for me to return the favor, as stated before, I was less than enthused. Looking at his size, I listed the possible positions that would deliver me the most pleasure while fucking, and I concluded doggy-style. But, when he bent me over the couch to fuck me, his dick felt like it had grown 4 inches. After he ate my pussy, my walls were still clenching, the orgasm continued to rush through my body, and I was soaking wet. After the wonders he worked on my clit, his dick felt fan-fucking-tastic. His dick felt so good that I went above and beyond to get it. I would go to his house before my long runs. I fucked him after work. I even took the train to fuck him during my lunch break. He fucked me from the back, he fucked me missionary, I rode him like a cowgirl, and he even fucked me from the side (a position that’s not my favorite), and they all felt amazing. As long as he ate my pussy first, his dick felt magical. The only reason we stopped fucking was me; I felt that I was lowering my standards, and I ended it. But now and then, when I’m on the west side of Manhattan, I think about his mouth and dick, and my pussy starts to get wet. 

The above is the beauty of a MLBS dick. As long as his tongue delivers you to an orgasm, his dick possesses the same capabilities as a GAP dick. So, because I love getting my pussy eaten, MLBS dicks have become my personal favorite. Now, isn’t that better than grading dicks by measurements?