...the making of a slut.

It had been a long night: danced up a storm, blew a virgin, and finally got home around 5:00 in the morning. I was wide awake so changed into my pj's and started playing some computer games. I'd left my phone in my purse but went to fetch it when I vaguely recalled getting a Tinder message sometime during or after blowing said virgin. The message was a couple of hours old by now but I responded anyway, thinking he'd probably not see it for awhile; most people would be asleep at this hour. He surprised me by responding right away. We chitchatted for a bit and had a good rapport. He had to drive out to the desert that afternoon but wanted some company before then. He was willing to get a motel room for just a few hours.

      It was tempting although completely ludicrous. He was a good 25 miles away, it was 6:am, and I hadn't slept. While I might drive 25 miles for a good fuck, he was pretty honest about just wanting a blow job. I'd told him of my earlier (mis)adventure and I think it intrigued him into wanting to experience my skills. I truly had no intention of meeting up with him but he was relentlessly persistent. Now, I've been implored, cajoled, nagged, and straight up begged by some serious Masters of Please (MoPs). When Jay needed a drink or a crack rock, the begging ripped my soul to shreds and against my better judgement, I'd capitulate. Jeremy's bratty cacophony of Pleases invariably led to his getting his way. Lately, Greg's repeated requests for a threesome were driving me bananas and tempted me to cut him loose altogether.

As for Drew, he was quite gifted in the MoP department. He wasn't aggressive. He wasn't annoying. He was like a smooth, persuasive car salesman. What can I do to put you in this car today....Around 7:am, it reached the tipping point and just like that, I knew I was going. I threw on my clothes and hit the road, updating Drew along the way. Halfway into my drive he mentioned that I might have my work cut out for me because he'd been up for 24 hours, was high (he used a snowflake emoji so I assumed he meant crystal meth) and might have a hard time climaxing. Screech....brakes. Wtf? Goddammit, no wonder he was so determined, horny and talkative. He's fucking tweaking. When Jay was high on meth, he said all he wanted to do was jack off all day. It also turned him into a rage-filled asshole, but that's another story. But I was already halfway to the motel so what the hell...

The door was unlocked when I arrived and I greeted Drew, who was lying on the bed, with a “mobile bj...” and he really enjoyed that. I told him he should have told me he was tweaking and he set me straight. He was no meth head. He was doing some very high-quality cocaine. Ohh, okay. I was vaguely surprised that he wasn't quite as cute as his Tinder pics. But that's not uncommon; of course people will post their most flattering pictures. I got to work right away. We'd discussed via text how it would be hot if I just came in and started sucking his cock right away. I made short work of his belt, pants, and boxers then proceeded to try to make short work of him. Everything was going as it should. I was working my magic with my mouth, he was moaning softly. I was thinking the cumslut in me was close to getting her reward when, boom. He wanted to take a break and do more coke. What an unprecedented turn of events.

As he did more lines, we started talking. He was very easy to talk to and had an unnerving way of looking right into my eyes as he spoke. Looking right into me. It made me uneasy and I had to force myself to not let my eyes dart around the room as he spoke. He commanded my complete attention just by giving me his. I sat on the edge of the bed and he folded his 6'2” into the rickety motel chair. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs, lifted his head to look at me and I was struck by how different he looked in this particular position and patch of lighting.

“Are you a shapeshifter?,” I blurted out, only semi-kidding. He seemed a bit taken aback; apparently someone had just recently made a similar observation. Over the course of the next few hours, he went from boy-next-door, to average cute guy, to breathtakingly beautiful depending on where he stood and which position he was in. I really wanted to take his picture, but he vetoed that idea. He was a bit paranoid about the texts and pics we'd already exchanged and asked if I would delete them. He eventually asked if he could do it himself and I let him. When he asked in bafflement, “why do you want to take my picture?”, I told him about my hobby of styling and photographing my friends and family and that in this particular position, he was quite beautiful. And then finally, simply told him, “because I'll never see you again”. Although this is par for the course with hook-ups, it had never bothered me as much as it did now. Looking at him I realized he would shut down his Tinder account and I wouldn't even have those pictures to remember him by. When I said that to him he responded rather gently, “I already have.”

(To be continued...)   

I love to dance. I need to dance. I'm way too old to go clubbing but I don't give a shit. Sometimes the night goes swimmingly: great music, good crowd, cool venue. Sometimes it doesn't: self indulgent DJ, douchebag patrons, and bad sound systems.

Friday night was a good one. I danced like a mf until nearly 2am. Before I'd even gotten into my car, I was mentally compiling a list of guys I could hit up. It would have to be a blow job as I was on the last couple days of my period. I couldn't really get excited at the prospect of any of my usual dudes, quite frankly. I was resigned to going straight home but then found myself exiting the freeway and heading toward the ocean. The weather had been brutally hot and sometimes the only place with a cool breeze is the beach.

As I smoked a couple of cigarettes, I thought I'd see if there were any possibilities on Craigslist's Casual Encounters. In the past, CL has been a bonanza of opportunity for me. I've met guys with whom I regularly hooked up for years. I met my longtime FWB there. Without CL, a huge chunk of sexual experience would most likely never have happened for me.

On this night, there wasn't much happening on Craigslist besides the usual. I refreshed the page one last time before planning to take my leave of the beach, and a new ad appeared at the second from the top of the list. A 20 year- old virgin who'd never done anything sexual, wanted “ANY female for whatever”. He didn't care about age, looks, or body type. And oh, look, he's right in my area. It's around 3:00a.m. at this point so I send a response via e-mail:

“Any girl,huh? My, we r horny. If ur a skinny white or Latino guy, text a pic. I dont have Snapchat”

He responded within ten minutes. He was understandably wary about sending pics but while the physical attributes might not matter to him, they do to me. Here are the texts:

Him: hey so you don't have a snapchat?

Me: I disabled it. Hated it. Got pics? Dont b paranoid lol

Him: lol well I wouldn't wanna send one if it's not thru there😂trust me I am paranoid

Me: Describe urself then

Him: 6'2 skinny and white just like you described oddly enough. do you have any pics?

Me: Yes, but u said it didnt matter. Is that bullshit?

Him: no like it actually doesn't matter, I'd actually rather not have someone that's hot or anything because then I'd probably be nervous lmao

Me: I'm a bbw cougar older than your mother... so what are you into?

Him: I'm down for anything

(I text him a few pics)

Him: you're just what I wanted

Me: Not sure if i should b insulted. Lol. Face pic?

Him: no that's a compliment, I just won't be nervous because I'm not talking to a super model

Me: True. At the risk of TMI, im on my period but would b down to blow u

Him: I'm not comfortable sending pictures, I know it sounds fishy but I'm just a regular 20 year old who's horny 24/7

Him: yes I'm so down. I've never gotten a bj or anything so this will be the best experience so far

Me: Maybe u shouldnt then, not all bj's will b able to measure up haha. Where r u. Wanna meet in a dark spot or i could pick u up

So he suggested a spot (funnily enough, about a mile and a half from where I live), I finally got a look at him (adorable), and we parked on a nearby side street where I proceeded to make his skinny legs shake. I wonder if he'd jerked-off right before our rendezvous because he lasted a surprisingly long time under my expert tongue. After my inner cumslut was sated, we hugged and off he loped into the night. Mission accomplished.

Last night I hit up seven different guys for a hook up. Most of them from my BJ-only list. It's always tricky, timing wise, to send multiple homing pigeons to multiple recipients. Just how long should I wait after texting #1 (let's just refer to them by number, shall we) before texting #2, 3, 4.... I decided to let distance be my guide.

I'd had a dreary night at a special Chester Bennington tribute at an eastside dance club. I thought it would be a cool way to pay respects whilst dancing to the awesome music of Linkin Park, their contemporaries, and musical influences. Instead it was a gathering of (dude-heavy) enthusiastic fans who, instead of dancing, watched and reacted to the huge video screen as though they were attending a live concert. It felt like a wake being held at a frat party. Don't get me wrong. It was a touching tribute by fans, but it also felt extra sad to watch a larger-than-life Chester in performance videos. I wanted to dance. I wanted to FEEL the music, not SEE it.

So I left early, around 12:30am, feeling restless, horny, and need of a mood boost. I hit up #1 although I knew he had moved across town that day so most likely went to bed already. After ten minutes and no response, I hit up #2, a long-time though infrequent BJ-only pal. Crickets. As I headed West, I emailed a Craigslist connection I'd been flirting with on and off for years. Around this time, #2 texted that he was out of town but let's do it at the end of the month. I was now on the Westside and texted #4, who lived a bit north, but totally worth the drive. So far I'd only heard back from #2. I decided to head home but hit-up the guys who lived along my route. #4 messaged me; he was out of town but returning the next day. We flirted via text for the next hour as I drove home. Messages to #5, 6, and 7 went out in the order of their locations. #5 got back to me right away. He was out and wouldn't be home for several hours. Scratch. #6 texted 3 hours later with a 'Yes” answer to my “bj anyone?” text. I told him I believed the offer expired about two and a half hours ago. I told him we'd do it soon and would he like to be my Guinea pig so I could practice my handjob skills. Yes? No? Maybe? Hello?! No answer. GRRR! When he wants a blow job he's all please-and-thank you but now can't be bothered to answer a simple question. #6 will be jerking off from here on in.

Numbers 1, 3, and 7 got back to me in the morning. Respectively, “wiped out from moving went to bed early”, “was that offer only for last night can we do it tonight”, and “was asleep already when u texted”.

So I never did get any. I ended up watching porn and giving myself a better orgasm that any guy ever has. But there's something to be said for Cock. There are reasonable facsimiles, sure, but sometimes you just need the real thing.

I'm convinced that Jay, along with being a recovering alcoholic crackhead, has Narcissistic Personality Disorder (NPD). How I wish I'd realized this two and a half years ago. It might've saved me thousands of dollars, a lot of drama, and my heart. When I first stumbled upon articles about NPD, it was definitely a EUREKA! moment. I won't go into particulars but the site Quora has tons of info on the subject and although they can be a bit Narcissist-happy, it's been enlightening.

I'm attempting the No Contact solution with Jay, but I know that as long as he wants something from me, he won't hesitate to call. Yes, I've blocked him several times; it never takes. I want to ask this question to Quorans: Why do I miss him so much? Intellectually I know it's all about the NPD formula of How to Reel 'Em In...How to Get Them Addicted to You...etc., but my heart and soul don't give a shit about NPD. My heart and soul want the exciting, gorgeous, brilliant man who is never boring. Jay can be emotionally, verbally, and physically abusive. But he's never boring.

I try to ignore his occasional calls, but if he catches me at a 'bad' time (lonely, bored and nostalgic), I'll pick up. Today was such a day. The call was simultaneously satisfying and a slap in the face reminder of why I need to let him go. In the space of 5 minutes he manages to tell me he needs a favor, then proceeds to more or less call me a dumb slut. This unprovoked and unwarranted insult leads me to say, “Goodbye Jay. Go fuck yourself”, and hang up. For a smart guy, he's pretty stupid as to how to get things from me. Sober Jay, anyway. Cracky Jay knows exactly how to get anything he wants from me. Sober Jay lacks the humility and addiction-driven need of Cracky Jay. He's an unstoppable force with everything going for him, and he knows it. He's quite the arrogant prick.

I long to shove NPD down his throat, but reading about the horrific childhoods (that lead to the disorder, and his qualifies), deep-down loathing, and the poor prognosis for treatment would accomplish little besides making me feel a moment of vindictive spite. As much as I can't deal with the Jay of today, I couldn't endanger his sobriety with unwelcome revelations into his psyche. I will also never warn him of the relapse a psychic foresees around Halloween. I pray she's wrong. Before I learned that there's little chance of “fixing” someone with Narcissistic Personality Disorder, I thought I could save him. When he was using, I enabled him way too much, I admit. But I also attempted to get him into rehab, into therapy, and out of the crack-den of his own making. During the sporadic periods of sobriety, I drove him to job interviews, 'loaned' him money for his legal troubles, and was basically on-call 24/7. I always had his back. Always.

To be reminded that he thinks I'm not very bright and to have him throw my sluttiness in my breaks my heart for the zillionth time. I might know what he is, but believe me, I know what I am as well: a gullible weakling who stupidly fell in love with a man who doesn't even exist. Is it any wonder I eschew emotional attachments and keep a distance from men who might be more than a penis with a guy attached?

I held on to my virginity for a ridiculously long time. At first I was convinced that I couldn't have sex with someone I didn't love. It just seemed inconceivable. All those romance novels taught me that my body must only be shared within the context of “love”. I never dreamed of the big wedding or what my wedding dress might look like or any of that nonsense. There just had to be love, even if it was one sided (on my part). After I finally realized that I couldn't wait for love any longer, I began my slutty adventures. I worried that I wouldn't be able to separate sex and love; that I wouldn't be able to fuck 'like a man' (sorry not sorry for the sweeping generalization). I needn't have worried. As long as I'm not emotionally vested, sex for me is 'just fucking'.

However, I'm not above getting my brain scrambled from great sex. And maybe it's all that oxytocin, but I've found myself entertaining some idiotic notions after a particularly great hookup. Luckily, those stellar hookups are few and far between (see my Candy Corn entry). Because I am a total Girlzilla (google it), and particularly susceptible to a pretty face and sweet words, I must be super vigilant as to not fall arse-over-teakettle for guys that know all the right things to say and do.

I wish I could be like those women who manage to fall for the men who fall for them. I have an FWB who has fallen in love with me (or so he says). As much as I would like to feel more for him, I can't. I can fake an orgasm but not a love connection.

He's 6'3” with a big cock. I'm 5'3” with a big butt. I'm truly amazed that he managed to fuck me in the front seat of his car. He booty-called me at 3:am and since neither of us could host, we decided to meet in a dark parking lot for some vehicular shenanigans. This was our second encounter; the first time was him hosting at his place whilst the family (parents, not wife and kids) was away. We were ensconced in shabby chic, complete with cabbage roses, Victorian knick-knacks, and family photos in tarnished silver frames. We fucked on comfy white chaise longue upon which I would've loved to nap. He's such a nice, personable dude, that I was surprised at his sexual dominance. He's a head pusher. Normally I hate that and don't allow it, but for some reason I let him. He pushed my head down as he thrust his cock up, nearly choking me. I know I was scraping him with my teeth but hey, if you're gonna be a head pusher, you might be getting teeth. He didn't seem to mind.

I would've been happy to let him cum then and there, but he wanted to make sure I was feeling good too. I directed him to my nipples and he suckled them nicely while his hand burrowed between my legs and he found my clit straightaway. I was getting wetter and wetter and he asked me what I wanted. “Put your fingers in me”, I whispered. He finger fucked me to a small climax then asked if I wanted his cock. I really wasn't thinking we could fuck in a car but I needed that cock. I told him, “If you can pull this off, I'll be very impressed”. Well, he pulled it off and I was very impressed. His dominant side reemerged when I became a bit too vocal (we were in a public place, after all) and he put his hand over my mouth and kept it there for the duration. It was a bruising force but my submissive side found it rather exciting. If someone had come upon us at that moment, he probably would've been ordered to exit the vehicle with his hands in the air. Luckily, no one happened upon us.

“Do you want me to cum?”, he panted.

“Mmuhm”, I responded beneath the hand over my mouth. As he came, I had a fleeting moment to wonder if he'd used a condom. Earlier, he'd said he would but in the heat of the moment sometimes those promises fly out the window. I was relieved to see that indeed, he had used a condom. “That was my first time getting fucked in a car”, I mused, “I don't count the time I was half in, half out of my truck”. And I guess that time I was reclined in the backseat and that guy did me from the open cardoor doesn't count either. Oops, and then I remembered Arthur and David. Ok, so I had been fucked in a car before. But this one was the best.

When I got home, he'd sent a thank-you text. I so love a guy who was raised right.

#candy corn hookups

“Well, they can't all be winners, can they?” -Bad Santa (the advent calendar incident)

Of course all hookups are not created equal. They usually fall into one of the following categories:

THE TOP 10.......Cool guys, great-to-stellar sex, good rapport and chemistry, an encounter that leaves no bad aftertaste (pun slightly intended)

SMILES, EVERYONE, SMILES!.......No major complaints, adequate-to-good sex, no jackass moments, would be down for future meets. Most hookups fall into this category.

THE CHINESE FOOD......Tasty and satisfying while being consumed but quickly forgotten. You will be hungry again soon and probably for something different.

THE CANDY CORN......You expected and hoped for chocolate and instead got a candy corn (see above reference to Bad Santa).

I've had my fair share of Candy Corn hookups. Upon reflecting on these encounters, I've realized the cause of a bad hookup is almost always due to a lack of honesty and communication (Ha. Just like in a real relationship). Since we're breaking things down, here are the Candy Corn sub-categories:

BULLSHIT PICS: Photos that misrepresent your true appearance. I've learned to decipher what you're hiding by what is NOT revealed in your pics. Headshots-only means there's a body problem. I'm no twig by a long shot so I'm sure to post pics that clearly show me from head to toe. During the 'chatting' phase, I'll send naughty pics that more or less show exactly what you'll be getting. I've had a couple of guys who failed to mention that they were extremely overweight. Funny thing is, at least with the second guy, I had a feeling something was off. I even asked him straight out, “what's your major malfunction?” because the relationship stories he was telling didn't mesh with his pics and personality. I agreed to meet despite my slight misgivings because I liked his personality and face. Upon meeting, however, the personality changed. Witty and warm morphed into whiny and distant. I understand the expectations of rejection that come along with a surprise reveal, but hey, you know damn well that you were trying to get away with something. I'm polite to a fault, so even if Shrek's ugly cousin opened the door, my composure stays intact (I hope) and I'll probably still blow you. But don't expect a second meet. Kitty doesn't like to have the wool pulled over her eyes.

To be continued...

So I hooked up with Alex the other night. I was supposed to meet up with someone else, but logistical problems stymied us. Since I was in a horny state of mind (and wearing my new purple thong), I decided to check-in on Alex who'd sent me a text earlier that day asking, “do you want some ice cream?”. I thought this was rather sweet until I realized he was making some sort of man-cream reference. I think.

Alex is pretty much my only “cute meet”. A couple summers ago I was out of town for several weeks. Alex and I 'liked' each other on OkCupid. We flirted on and off for awhile but things sort of fizzled out due to the physical distance between us. Flash forward a few weeks. I was back in town, had gone out dancing one night and on my way home I remembered I was supposed to pick up some Dayquil for my mom. After learning my go-to Walgreens was no longer 24 hours, I drove a few miles to the next closest drugstore. I bought the Dayquil, got back in the car and was just about to turn on the ignition when I noticed someone approaching in my peripheral vision. In the three seconds it took for him to reach me, I'd already morphed into 2am-matter-of-fact-don't-fuck-with-me mode.

“Excuse me?”, says a male voice.

“Yeah.” I reply with a sidelong glance and a non-encouraging manner.

“Aren't you Kitty?”

I take a good look at him for the first time and think to myself, no way would I have forgotten a guy this cute.

“Do you know who I am?”, he asks.


“It's Alex from OkCupid.”

Omg. Right. Alex from OkCupid. What are the odds of running into an OKC match at 2am at a non-usual drugstore AND he recognizes me from my pics (and still decides to strike up a conversation).

I get out of the car and we chitchat for a bit. He's a cute Brazilian who drives for Uber, also does massage (ka-ching), and has his own place nearby. Say no more. He seems mildly surprised that I'm so amenable to going home with him but that's just how I roll. I can be rather shy and awkward unless there's a bed in the room, metaphorically speaking.

The encounter was nice. He busted out the massage table, the sex was good, but there was a certain lack of chemistry between us. Our second encounter wasn't great. His enthusiasm level was not where I would've liked it to be. He seemed happy to let me blow him; didn't seem anxious to fuck me. So the next few times he hit me up, I brushed him off or simply didn't reply to his texts. I figured he'd get the message. I have to give him persistence points. He shot me a message every few months (which I ignored). I was kind of surprised he bothered. I figured it was either that he was super horny or that I was super easy or some combination of both. It never occurred to me that he might be into me in particular. It still doesn't. I take it very personally when a guy doesn't fuck me when he clearly has the green light to do so.

A few weeks ago I received a kik message from a user I didn't recognize. Curiosity got the best of me and I sent a message back asking “who is this?”. Some polite chitchat ensued with the usual we-should-get-together-hmu sometime.... I doubt a hookup woulda happened, however, if I hadn't accidentally messaged Alex thinking he was someone else (those darn kik usernames), then liked his Ice Cream message, and finally, been disappointed by my semi-planned assignation.

So I ended up dropping in on Alex with the intention of a no-sex handjob. I told him I was abstaining from fucking for the time being. I really like to watch guys masturbate and he agreed to put on a show for me if I participated a bit for inspiration. I start by watching him stroke. He's bigger than I remember. Then I gave his jaunty balls a tongue bath. The next thing I know he's in my mouth. This is what usually happens when I attempt to watch. I can't help myself. It's there. It's hard. It wants my mouth. At some point Alex moves behind me to stroke my ass. His hand moves between my legs and he does a commendable job of locating then stroking my clit. I ask him if he has a condom.

“You want me to fuck you?”


I grab a condom from my purse and watch as he puts it on. He fucks me doggy-style and his size hurts a bit at first then we adjust and he does some impressive stroking with that cock. He asks if he can fuck my ass but I decline. He's just too damn big for anal.

As I'm writing this, he texts me, “so how tasty was that cum???” Lol. Should I be offended, cuz really I'm just amused... He tends to send somewhat piggish messages like “come eat it” with a nice video of him wanking. The messages seem to be sans misogynistic overtones (really!) so I let them slide. I take this opportunity to ask if he has problems coming if he's wearing a condom.

“Why do you ask?”

“Cuz you didn't cum while fucking me”.

“Sometimes I can, sometimes I need more stimulation. What are your thoughts on that?”

“I'd like to think that my pussy is stimulation enough, but I understand.”

I tend to get hung up if a guy doesn't cum to my expectations. I take it like he's not that into me/it. Or what am I not doing right. The only cardio I get is jumping to conclusions. Ha.

So he tells me he's going to sleep now but he's going to bust a nut first :) so I send him a naughty pic for his spank bank and tell him 'nighty night....

Tom was #2. After​ the debacle of losing my virginity whilst trying to maintain my catfishery (and failing miserably), I put up a new profile with my real photos and was happily surprised at the response. I was even more delighted later when I opened the door to my hotel room to find 6'2” of gorgeous hunk standing in my doorway. I love it when a hookup turns out to be cuter than his pics. It's like a little, unexpected gift. Sometimes I intentionally send unflattering​ pics of myself to potential hook ups so I can give a little, unexpected gift too.

Tom was an easy going but take-charge kinda guy. Lickety split and I was blowing him like a champ. After all the years fantasizing and speculating about what I'd do with a hard cock in my mouth, I was going to make the most of this opportunity. Apparently, I am a natural. Tom was blown away by my oral skills and never knew that his was only the second penis to visit my mouth. At one point he had me lie on my back on the bed with my head hanging over the edge. He fed me his cock slowly and I found I could take him much deeper this way. I'd stipulated that condoms were a must. He rubbered up, positioned me doggy style at the edge of the bed, and standing behind me, slid his hard cock into me. After a while he pulled out of my cunt, placed his cock at my anus and asked, “can I fuck your ass?” I answered yes. I've had an anal fetish for as long as I can remember. Before I ever tried to penetrate my vagina, I would experimentally slide a finger into my asshole in the bath or shower. I thought that was The Hole. It felt good to me and by the time I figured out that the other hole was the primary one, I'd discovered the joys of the backdoor.

I had played with enough toys to know that the initial entry was going to be the hardest part. I also knew to relax and unclench. Tom gave me a moment to acclimate to the new invasion then gave me the assfucking I'd been waiting for all my life. I'm thankful that my first anal sex experience was a good one because I would learn in future that it doesn't take much of an inept or selfish jerk to make a person reluctant to unclench ever again.

Tom took a shower as I lay on the bed purring like a contended cat. As he got dressed, he waxed poetic about my blow job and asked if he could see me again. I told him I was only going to be in town a few more days but sure, hit me up. I ended up booty-calling him a couple days later and he rushed right over. However, having come straight from work, he had no condom. Nor did I since I hadn't expected to be sexually active. I offered to suck him off (I'd already told him the ass was off the menu as I was still a bit sore). What followed was a scenario that would repeat many, many times with many, many men. He begged, pleaded, and cajoled....and I caved. I did ask him not to cum in me since I wasn't on birth control and he agreed. I gave him a nice long blow job and he fucked me sans condom, pulling out as promised, and cumming on my tits.

I'm grateful for Tom. He was gorgeous, well-mannered (good manners go a long way, boys), and a great fuck. He still remains in my Top 5 Hookups of all time. However, hookup #4 would be even better....

I believe Sean was the first on the BJ-only list. We met after I answered his Craigslist ad. I would've been happy to fuck him but it was obvious that he was happy to just get blown. That's criteria number one on making the BJ-only list: you coulda fucked me but you didn't. In fact, here are all the criteria. You only need qualify for one...

#1 You coulda fucked me but you didn't. #2 Neither of us could host (and neither of us was motivated enough to rectify the situation). #3 I like you/find you attractive enough to suck you off but not enough to spread my legs.

Once you're on the bj-only list, there you stay. There's no crossing over to the Fuck list. You had your chance. #3 is almost always in conjunction with #1 or #2. In other words, if a guy is hot to fuck me AND he can host, OR makes an effort to facilitate the appropriate accommodations BUT I'm kinda ho-hum about him....I'll usually do him.

Sean fell into category #1. He was hot for my blow jobs but not so much for me. Which was fine because he was reasonably cute with an awesome body and great cock, but kinda uptight and quite the jerk. The summer I returned from my holiday (less my virginity), I'd meet Sean at all hours and blow the hell out of him. For awhile there I was rather obsessed with having him in my mouth.

Summer wound down and I returned to work so I wasn't as readily available. I hadn't seen him for a couple of weeks when I received a text from him telling me that he'd started seeing someone, couldn't see me anymore and would I please delete his number and pics and he would do the same. “Do I have any pics of you?” was my response. Oh yeah, I had a headshot and the shirtless/faceless pic he'd posted on his Craigslist ad. Ooh, the possibilities for blackmail...Please. But I told him I would delete his number and pics (I didn't) and all the best with his new woman, blah blah blah...and that was that.

Or so I thought. About 6 months later I'd just dropped off my new FWB, Jeremy, at the airport (how's that for putting the 'friend' in Friends with Benefits). Jeremy was going to be in the Philippines for three weeks so I was perusing the Craigslist ads for the first time in months. I was reading an ad in the Casual Encounters section and thought to myself, “hey, this guy seems to be looking for someone like me. Maybe I should respond.” Only then did I check out his picture and lo and behold, it was that same shirtless/faceless pic of Sean's from his other CL ad. After reading the ad more carefully, it turns out he wasn't looking for someone like me. He was looking for me, specifically. Apparently, he actually had deleted my number.

It was perfect timing. When the F-dub's away, the mice will play. Sean and I resumed our BJ relationship. He'd moved since I saw him last and could no longer host so our oral encounters were of the vehicular variety which got kinda old kinda fast. He was still a selfish jerk (a theme that would repeat with others) and I'd had quite a bit more experience and opportunity by then. At some point I'd had enough of his jerkiness and stopped answering his messages (my M.O. for ending things) and I haven't seen him since. I have no ill feelings towards him. Our “relationship” had just run its course. I'm not sure I'd recognize his face if I passed him on the street, but I'm pretty sure I could pick out his cock from a Penis Line-up....