You will eat me the way I tell you and exactly the way I tell you

So I don’t regret it, I never do but I don’t like a lot of things about it. External things, philosophical things, things I can neither control nor comprehend.

I hate that he’s the only one to treat me like this – so perfectly attuned to my desires.

I hate that he has a girlfriend – I’ve no idea what need she fulfils but it certainly isn’t this one.

I hate that I can’t find anyone in Dublin who can do what he does.


And as always, I don’t understand how the best sex of my life is with someone who doesn’t know me. I hate that the most.


But fuck that! for now.

Here’s what we got up to this last time!



‘What if …….. we did something else next time’


‘What if I told you what to do…?’


‘A bit…. Yeah’

‘Cos I’d absoFUCKINGloutely love that’

‘In a ‘thank fuck I finally said it’ way or in a ‘Ok, yeah, if that’s what you really want’ way?’

‘No I love being told what to do and when to do it. The reason I’m dominant with you is cos I know how much you love it’


And that was the tone set.

I was going to be topping for the first time since we met. I wasn’t lying I did want to direct things a bit. I wanted to direct how he ate me and I wanted him to do it exactly as I told him. I was nervous that I wouldn’t be able to relax and enjoy it if I was doing all the directing?

I was nervous about a lot of things.


I wasn’t sure how to start,  I was worried about the mechanics of it and couldn’t figure out when I should start in my new role?

He’d driven a long way and he might need to change or freshen up or pee? We hadn’t seen each other in 3 months, not since Halloween, should we chat, should we hug, should we kiss? And of course, every time he was in charge he had gone straight into character, straight into devouring me. He’d always had instructions, dictated just prior to arriving. But what was I going to do? I couldn’t work it out, I decided to play it by ear, see what felt right which was probably a mistake as it made me come off as nervous! I had Prosecco chilling in the fridge let’s just start with that, I told myself – which really is the very basic of hospitality manners. When he came in I gave him half a kiss – that didn’t feel right. I wanted a real kiss but if that happened then there’d be no stopping us and I wanted to play this out how I’d promised.

He dropped his bag and followed me to the kitchen. As I turned to pour him a drink he said, fuck you look stunning. I know he can’t see me so I smile a tiny embarrassed smile to myself but as I turn around I look at him and coquettishly say ‘You don’t know the half of it’. Hoping that this is delivered correctly. I was referring to my underwear which unusually had not one bit of it on show. I had on a long dress, which came just below the knee, thigh high boots which again probably weren’t apparent. And underneath I had my favourite underwear; black and red bra, matching high-wasited knickers that had garter strings and black stockings held perfectly in place by them. Not one atom of these things would go unnoticed or unappreciated by him and I was aiming for 10 out of 10.

I told him to take off his shoes and socks, it was actually something I wanted, it’s always easier if they’re off before we begin and I was delighted to have thought of an order.


I marched, he padded back to the sitting room and I sat in front of him, pointed at where I wanted him to be. With his eyes boring into me he sat and sipped.

What I wanted him to do started with him eating me – but that was weird? Starting there just seemed inappropriate? Fuck I wish I’d thought this out better. We chatted a bit, but my head was a mess, I just didn’t know what to do I just wanted to fuck him.

The more I thought about taking control the less I could manage it. But the situation wasn’t awkward, we know each other, we know how much we want each other, this might be a reversal of roles but we weren’t unfamiliar. It was because we knew each other that the atmosphere was charged, and it’s only with hindsight that I can name it. I was hesitant because I didn’t want to lose control of myself, because I was so unsure that I could hold on to it. I was riddled with need to just go at him, the same need I saw mirrored in him. But only after he pointed it out to me. God I love fucking this man.

As I sat across from him, leaning forward, legs apart so the folds of my dress pooled in between them, giving the first glimpse of my boots, he looked at me and said ‘Have you done anything but make eye contact with me since I arrived – well besides that one peck?’ I didn’t answer really, I just looked at him quizzically. ‘You’ve not gone near me, and look..’ and with his thumb and forefinger he pointed to the giant outline of his cock through his jeans.

‘Just being in a room with you does this to me. Being near you is enough’

With that I stepped between his legs, put my arms on the back of the couch and looked down at his face and then straddled him but didn’t sit down, stayed leaning over him, in a position of power. I wanted so much to kiss him but I didn’t, I brought my face close to him and just inhaled him. Brushed my cheek off his then ran my nose up to his ear, then sucked it. Nothing overt, nothing incendiary but we both knew what I was doing and our heartrates were racing. I had to get off him I was going to let go.


I topped up both our glasses and went back to sitting across from him, inches away only. This time I pulled up the skirt of my dress as I spread my knees wide – letting him see the thigh high boots and the stockings and suspenders. I saw the flash of appreciation in his eye but he said nothing, just bore the brunt of my gaze and didn’t flinch.

There was nothing else going to come to me, I had to jump in and go for the thing that I wanted. ‘I’m going to lie down now and you’re going to eat me. You’re going to do it exactly as I say and you’re not going to pull any tricks, use any fingers unless I tell you to, do you hear me?’

‘Yes ma’am’

And we’re going to go with sir


I think I want to be called sir.

‘Yes Sir then’


I lifted my dress, lay back and he was between my knees faster than I would have thought it humanly possible.

‘Jesus Christ look at you? You look fucking amazing.’

I thought you might like them, I said as I pulled my knickers to the side. ‘I want you to kiss all around here’, and indicated to my freshly waxed mound. ‘Don’t stop or do anything else until I tell you to.’ He is straight at the task, delicately, precisely. ‘Now move down the side of the lips, but don’t go in.’

This was tough I was enjoying this I didn’t want to talk. But it was too early in the game to give up now.

‘I want you to lick all the way down one side and then the other, and when you come back up I want you to make your tongue flat and lick back up parting the lips slightly – but don’t go in and don’t touch my clit yet.’

All of this is readily complied with.

‘Now do it again, this time when you reach my clit I want you to suck on it, really gently.’ And as his tongue slowly makes its way towards my clit I can’t help but move my hips up towards his face, and slip my fingers into his hair. This is perfect.

As his lips find my clit and he gently starts to suck on it I move my hips again, I’m starting to writhe and I supress the need to let go. I tell him to suck harder on my clit as I grasp the back of his head and press myself onto him.

‘Now make your tongue as wide and flat as you can, I’m going to rub my clit off it’, and I press down hard, backwards and forwards but not too long, I can’t lose myself.

Again I tell him to suck my clit for a few seconds then stop – I make him kiss me so I can taste it, I suck his tongue to taste my cunt from him. I kiss him deeply and suck his top lip and then his bottom desperate to taste myself on him. I’m so greedy for it.

‘Ok, that’s enough. Now I want you to lap gently at my cunt, right up by my clit,’ and I point it out with my fingers, which he licks out of the way and shoots me a lascivious glance.

I have about 2 more left in me before I am going to want to surrender and let him do what he likes with me.

As he laps at my lips I am bucking underneath him and again I reach around to the back of his head and pull him into me.

I think I might be close, but either way, I’ve had enough I just want him to eat me, to suck me to lick me any fucking way he wants I want to surrender.

Last thing.

‘I want you to lick two of your fingers, get them really wet and then I want you to slide them into me as you keep licking.’

That’s all I manage, I have no more instruction for him, I have no more direction. As his fingers fill me and I clench on them I can feel the climax building. His tongue is at my clit, his fingers are working in and out of me slowly and he has his other hand under my ass holding me to his mouth.

‘Oh God… YES.. fuck yes.’

And I come onto his mouth so deliciously.


I pull away from him, I know his tricks, he won’t stop until I force him. As I push back to the other side of the couch, getting him at arm’s length to catch my breath, he stands up looking at me wantonly. He usually gets to fuck me at this point. But I want to play hardball.

I tell him that I’m very pleased and that he deserves something and to get his cock out and sit down.

But he’s not getting that yet, I just want his cock in my mouth because I missed it and this is my first look at it. I kneel over him and suck it – this is what I want, this is still just for me. I stop to tell him that, in case he was confused and thought I didn’t know what he actually wanted.


I know well what he wants, his cock in my cunt but I’m not giving it that easy. There are just a few more steps and I know he wants this, he wants me to be in charge of him, to make him obedient and to only get what I chose to give him. And fuck do I want to be able to do that properly for him.


I stop sucking him after a few minutes and tell him how pleased I am with his hard cock being ready for my mouth but that he’s not done working yet. I have more demands and more instruction for him.

‘Stand up.’

‘I’m going to lean over the arm of the couch, I want you to stand behind me.’

I crawl up onto the arm and kneel there, with my dress hiked up to my hips. His cock is throbbing and ready. I look back at him and tell him that again, I want him to suck two fingers and get them really wet. When they’re good and lubed I want him to slide them gently into my pussy, very slowly. ‘Yes ma’am, I mean Sir’.

I turn back and I can hear him getting his fingers wet and my excitement levels start to rapidly rise again. I look back at him, he still hasn’t slipped them in, it feels like an eternity and I am swimming in this sensation of both control and feeling exposed.

Finally his fingers touch me, but cheekily he doesn’t slide them in, he feels for my clit and starts to circle it with his wet fingers. I want to reprimand him, inform him that this isn’t what he was told to do – but I can’t it feels great. His two fingers, dripping with spit and mixing with my already wet lips on my swollen clit just feel too good. But my pussy is aching and it wants to be filled and so I manage to finally tell him that he has misbehaved and that that’s enough, he better slide those fingers into me very slowly right now. This time he does as he’s told.

Fuck I love this I love how his fingers fill me, a wholly different sensation from this angle to when I was lying flat. He has one hand on my hip and one hand working in and out of me. I adore this feeling and also relish the knowledge that he is standing behind me, looking at my ass and dripping wet pussy with a rock solid cock and he’s not allowed to use it, he has to wait while he only gets his fingers in me. I could keep this up for ages but I want to give him something, he has been excellent.

And anyway, I think it’s about time I had his cock, I am after all aching for it.

I tell him I think I’m ready for his cock, and I want him to slide his fingers out and his cock in –  very slowly. Ingeniously he brings the tip of his cock up to the edge of the lips and as he pulls his fingers out he pushes his cock in which just feels sensational. And finally his cock is in me. I direct him to pull it almost all the way out and then to slide back in, as slow as he can go. I think I’m going to cry at how good this feels. Then I tell him to stop and not move, so I can rock back and forth on it again, giving him no control. But after a while I lean further forward and tell him to fuck me gently. With his hands on my hips I urge him to go harder and harder until I lose control and don’t care what he does.


As my face is almost flat into the seat of the couch and my arse is in the air being pounded by him I tell him to describe it to me, I want him to tell me how good my cunt feels, how much he loves it. Something I would never normally say.

He duly does and I am satisfied with his breathless declarations and satisfied grunts of desire.


Eventually I can take no more and let myself fall forward onto the couch completely. He hasn’t come but both of us are happy.


Not a bad start to the night.

The Best Sex Ever

I’ve had a lot of good sex. Probably more than my fair share, in fact I’m pretty sure I’ve stolen other people’s quotas of it. But that doesn’t mean I’m at all contrite about it. There is hardly anything in the world I love more than sex.

Most of the best sex I’ve had has been with long term partners. Usually someone I cared deeply about and who cared about me. I’ve never understood relationships where the sex is not right, I’m not judging anyone, I’m just saying as a core value I need it, or the relationship is over. I’ve never said the words ‘I knew it was over, we were barely having sex’. I’ve slept with all of them up until and including the day it was over. That’s the one thing that never waned.

Once with Don Draper, it got to three weeks – and I burst into tears, a very unlikely occurrence for me, the tears. He had no idea that I had been going insane since week one. I was trying not to make a big deal, holding out on mentioning it until I had something substantial (3 weeks felt substantial) and his response? ‘It’s only three weeks, it’s not that long’. Well the tears turned to rage then. But the simple fact was that I had a way higher sex drive than him. To his credit when I googled this and found that Korean Ginseng was known for giving you energy and boosting your sex drive he happily took it, no coercion needed. He used to say to me ‘but I’m into it when you do start it’ – yes Don, but if you could once, just once initiate it.

I have never loved any man as much, and as completely, as I loved that man but my god if my best friend wasn’t sick of hearing me complain about how much sex I wasn’t getting.

But when I did…. Sigh.  Ten years later and he is still in my top five.

Not that it matters now I know he loved me


Apollo was another. He was a troubled but exciting and great craic person. He was 6’5” and super fit, but he was also the most beautiful faux geek. He could do anything with IT – I’m not sure how he knew this, he just did and he knew some super geeks, guys who couldn’t even make eye contact with me. He pissed everyone off and then made them forgive him. You just couldn’t stay mad at him. He was in my life for about 6 years. And he had boundless energy, he was up for it as much as I was, anywhere I wanted. One night we were out, having the time of our lives, I thought, and he turned to me all excited and said ‘Babe, come on, let’s go home’ What? Ah Apollo no, I’m having a ball. He’s still smiling, laughing in fact, ‘Babe, come on. Let’s go home and have sex, there’s no one in your place, we can do what we like, let’s just leave early for once and have sex for hours – when do I ever say this?’ He had me there, he never wanted to leave early. He’s still smiling like he’s given me a present and not like he’s desperately trying to convince me to leave. But I was always going to.


We are super giddy and wide awake. I don’t know why we have water guns but we do. Or, the house does. We’re upstairs in my room, music blaring, drinking wine and devouring each other. At one point he goes down stairs to get some water and finds the guns, he comes up with one filled and the other empty, he throws the empty one at me and tells me I have 4 seconds to go fill it and he’s coming after me, but he squirts me anyway. This feels amazing on my sex-sweat covered skin but I scream anyway, more with delight and am out the door and down the stairs before he gets to do it again. It’s a big enough house, I shared it with 3 others, and we chase each other around it, naked and screeching and getting water everywhere. I scream his name more times than he’s ever been called it. He has me in the kitchen (I let me him catch me that time) he has me over the couch, on the stairs, by the front door and over the top bannister. This does not let up all night. I adore this boy and he cannot ever seem to get enough of me. I’d say if I rang him now he’d remember that night in a flash. Mostly because we weren’t actually alone in the house. My housemate Brendan had gone away and lent his bedroom to his friend. I believe she was traumatised by us.

Not that it matters now, I know he loved me


There was The Gypsy (not an actual gypsy, but that’s what his family called him) He made me come 8 times the first night. The man was so insecure in life but so utterly in control as soon as we were naked. He was way prettier than me, and I’m not the worst looking sandwich in the picnic, but he really was way prettier than me. Not supermodel-with-a-troll prettier than me, but I got the ‘Didn’t she do well’ stare from girls one too many times. And some people even just said it to my face. Sometimes the impoliteness of it stung but mostly I couldn’t have given two fucks. You know why? Because he never made me feel like I was less than him. And he said this killer line after I’d seen a picture of his actual model ex-girlfriend ‘Sure she might be prettier or have a hotter body but do you think I give a fuck about those things? No one I have gone out with has been sexier than you and no one has turned me on more’. Well played Gypsy, model ex-girlfriend will never be mentioned again. He might have been making it up but the fact that he would have swam through broken glass to have sex with me makes me think he wasn’t.

Not that it matters now, I know he loved me.



But above all of these is someone who is the ultimate and the very best, on every scale; he can control me psychologically like Don Draper, he has the energy of Apollo and he has the sheer wanton desire for me like The Gypsy.

But what makes him just so good in bed, why is he the very best?

Well I can tell you, I’m happy to say. I know exactly why he is the ultimate sexual partner and I’ll also tell you why I hate this.



He is open to everything, nothing is off the list. He wants to do everything. But if I don’t then he doesn’t either.

The better he is the harder I work. The harder I work the better he is  – it’s a self-fulfilling prophecy that perpetuates itself. The more he tells me how sexy I am the more I want to please him, the more I please him the more he tells me.

He is the only person so far, and as a writer I detest myself for this cliché, who gets me. At least sexually. He gets me in a way I don’t think anyone else has before. He understands something in me that I didn’t even understand in myself until I met him. All he wants to do is satisfy me, all I want to do is satisfy him. I am more myself on my knees with him than I am anywhere. I can say anything, I can suggest anything – everything is ok. No idea shunned, nobody gets upset or shoots down new tricks with derision. I would do almost anything he asked me to do. Or I would at least consider it.


Because I know he respects my desires. He doesn’t want to do anything to me (although he does) he wants to do it with me. He’s never after his own agenda it’s always: what’s the hottest thing I can do for her. Which I suppose is really clever because in return ALL I want is to make him as happy as he makes me. We are whores for each other and we’re both getting everything we want.

So I think you might be lacking some basic human understanding if you can’t see that that’s as addictive as crack cocaine.

And like any drug it’s detrimental to my peace of mind and general happiness.


I cannot reconcile that the best I’ve ever had is with someone I don’t love let alone even being in a relationship with them? I just can’t make peace with it.


I also can’t stand that there’s a girlfriend. Not that I think I would be happy with that title – that’s not it. I just can’t shake the feeling that I am somehow being slighted in this deal? That it doesn’t matter if he thinks about me when he fucks her the fact remains that in this story I am playing second violin. And I refuse to be a supporting actress in my own life.

That isn’t what irks me though. No. As I said the real issue is that I’ve had better sex with someone who doesn’t truly know me outside the bedroom than I’ve had with boys who were in love with me. I am actually a romantic, an unconventional and wholly unsentimental one, but definitely a romantic. And my romantic self is not willing to accept this. It wants me to stop.

It wants me to give up this drug in case we miss the chance to be with someone more suitable….


But what people often forget, when they’re busy pitying or hating drug addicts, is that drugs are so very hard to give up because when you’re taking them NOTHING. ELSE. MATTERS. Nothing in the world. (That might sound like I’ve taken heroin when I want to point out, I haven’t. Ever. It’s just the only thing I can compare it to)



What I have to remember is, my own words to someone else in fact, ‘The best thing about the best of your life, is that it can always be topped’.

There has to be better, but I’ll never know if I don’t go look for it.


So ok romantic side, you jerk, I’ll go cold turkey. I will hold out for another while and see if I can replace this ‘Best ever’ with a best ever that I actually give a shit about and, you know, might … like. Someone who might get me on both levels.




I didn’t really describe any hot sex there did I. I know, I’m a bitch. But I will soon.



There are loads of guys that have been spectacular in bed – but the 3 listed were guys that were around for a few years. Guys I was in relationships with. Which is my whole point.

Icing My Pussy – cos some sex is like that

This time last year I was feeling pretty annoyed by circumstances with two boys.

One was spectacular in bed and also made me roll on the floor, cackling with hysterical laughter. He also loved the snoozes after sex which meant I usually got it twice. But he ended it abruptly; said it was time we stopped messing before one of us got hurt? Excuse me?

I wasn’t at all sure what that meant but I was fucked off. (He was really fucking good)


The other one had been pursuing me relentlessly for a couple of weeks. Or whatever the term is for just slightly less than relentlessly. But as soon as he had me he went back to his ex. Which is fine I wasn’t that attached. But my god was I monumentally annoyed that he dragged me out to meet him on the wettest day of the year only to take 3 fucking hours to reveal that he was going back to said ex. All in the name of assuaging his guilt and so he could still call himself a ‘good guy’ because he ended it face to face. Really dude you could have spared both of us, a text really would have sufficed. And he didn’t even pay for the dinner that cost all of about €6. And this was on top of insinuating a few days previously that I had an STI (it was a spot) What a catch.

So it was a great start to the year all in all.

Neither of them are bad people though and I don’t wish either of them any ill will. But if I had my choice to sleep with one of them again it would be the first, the last time we had sex was fantastic. I hadn’t seen him in about 2 weeks (maybe less) I’d gone home for Christmas and he had been Snapchatting me lovely little 10 second clips of his cock. I could not wait to get back to Dublin. We devoured each other the second he was in the door, which was early in the morning. I suspect he may have had no sleep, he’d just come back from a wedding? By the afternoon he had pounded me so hard I am aching and swollen. We are lying in my bed sweat all over us, me in the crook of his arm – he always insisted, as soon as we finished whatever debauchery that made us come and fall back onto the bed, he would motion me to curl into him, straight away no matter how hot, warm and sticky we were. He never took no for an answer. I had some of the best snoozes of my life with him, drifting off, utterly blissful. Probably helped that he always made me come.

On this occasion, the last though I didn’t know it, he had pulled me into him and was drifting off. I had warned him on the ride previous that my pussy had taken a right battering and I might need to ice it, and now after this one? I really did. As the euphoria of the orgasm wore off I was acutely aware that I had indeed pushed my holiest of holies a bit too far. I scooched over him and tipped down stairs to get ice. Initially I intended just to ice it a bit and then come back up but it felt so good and seeing as we were snoozing anyway, I brought the ice with me.

He was half asleep as I went to crawl back over him. Sleepily he says in a half whisper ‘Where have you been?’ ‘I told you! I needed to get ice for my pussy!’ I’m not sure this registers. As I swing my second leg over I can’t resist kissing his cock just a little bit. But before I can move on he’s hard and he makes a noise I can’t resist – he wants my mouth on him. I’m never one to ignore a cock that wants my mouth like that. (He actually finished nearly every time in my mouth, he’d make me come, then we’d fuck, where he’d make me come while he was in me and then he’d whip the condom off and get me to finish him with my mouth. I adored him for it) So I start licking and sucking him, teasing really, not thinking I’m going to finish or make any serious job of it, I have a tea towel and ice in my hand pressed up against my pussy. After a minute or so he’s no longer asleep, he’s wide awake and watching me. ‘Babe, what are you doing, besides sucking my dick?!’ ‘I’m icing my pussy C, I told you…?’ And I put my mouth back around his cock ‘I didn’t actually think you were serious’ and he half laughs like he can’t believe I’m real. ‘Are you ok, did I hurt you?’ ‘I’m fine! It’s starting to get numb, it feels better already – actually … it feels a bit nice’. And without telling him I slip the ice cube into my mouth for a second, then put my mouth back on him. When he’s calmed down and I’ve gotten it back to normal temperature I stop and say ‘See! I told you it was nice’.

‘CHRIST Abbi! You’re trying to kill me. I love it’

It really was feeling so much better and weirdly I was getting off on it, the rubbing was getting me properly aroused. And he was even more aroused when I described it to him. Eventually he had enough and he swung me around and got his mouth on my lips and clit and the warmth felt so good. But he took the ice cube off me, put it in his mouth and absolutely got his own back on me.

He made me come like this, sucking me, getting my lips kind of warm then pulling the ice cube from the side of his mouth and making them cold again. Then alternating and pushing the smoothed cube up inside me. It’s actually shocking how long an ice cube will last. But it’s probably just long enough.

And after he made me come, he fucked me until I was in need of icing again. Which was the very last time.


So yes, I was very annoyed to have that taken away from me. But with the hindsight that is a full year…… maybe he was right. I was certainly getting attached to the sex if nothing else. I’m not sure who he thought was going to get hurt but maybe stopping when we did wasn’t the worst idea.



And here I am again, early January and I once again have had some great sex taken from me. I’m miserable and I want it badly. But ……. I just want it from him, I just want it from one boy. I like to convince myself that I am able to run around carefree but really, I get attached. Not easily but readily, or so it would seem.

New Year’s Resolutions aren’t usually for me but if I was to make one it would be to aim for a non-self-inflicted (non-sex-inflicted?) January of misery next year. I mean, Januarys are hard enough already.

I Am Not For Sale

Just because I write about how much I enjoy sex does not mean I’m open to every proposition that anyone might propose. (And there have been some lovely ones, there really have)

I’m not obliged to sleep with you just because you asked.
I’m not obliged to show you more than I do.
I’m not obliged to watch you come.
If you’re thinking of propositioning me, please read this first.

Here’s a few things this blog is not:
Or any dating website in fact. I am not here looking for a date.
I am not looking for anything. I just want to write the stories of the sex I’ve had and my thoughts on sex in general. That also does not mean that I’m not approachable. I’ll happily chat to anyone, and I have since this blog started, had great chats and ‘met’ some fantastic people both male and female. I’m not trying to deter anyone from saying hi or asking a question. What I am trying to do is to clarify my position. I’m not a bitch if I turn you down or decline to meet you or reveal myself. I’m sure you are indeed lovely, I’m definitely sure you’re genuine and I’m absolutely certain that you’re positively, totally legit.
But that’s beside the point. I myself am not on offer, my accounts of sex are. My opinion is, my time (sometimes) is.


If you want to send me a dick pic, please feel free. I generally enjoy getting them – it’s rare that I don’t want to see a dick. But this also doesn’t mean that I am a captive audience for you and at your beck and call to watch you come whenever you so choose. I will take a look, if I’m not at work, or busy or otherwise engaged. But I’ll be doing it on my time. Send the pic simply because you want to not because you think you’re automatically owed an immediate response.
I’m probably not wanking to it either. Sorry to burst that bubble. I’m just looking because I’m a big perv and I like to look.
(I generally need to know someone before a pic of their come shot will get me off.)


So, please be polite with your expectations and dick pics, I always am in return. Please don’t be derogatory or demeaning about the pictures that I post or I will have to stop posting them. Some of the messages lately have come quite close. You know who you are because I don’t respond to messages I don’t like or that have crossed the line. I don’t do tributes and I don’t do requests, I just post pics on days I think parts of my body look ok.
I think this is fair enough.

Even Robot-Hearted Minxes Get Fucked Over

Dear Disappointment,

Congratulations you got under my skin, made me reveal myself, got me to like you. How very clever. You managed this while also getting me to eschew all others and patiently wait for you because you were most definitely, totally ready to leave your current squeeze. There were just a few hiccups, minor details that needed to be resolved but I wasn’t to worry about them, no, they were mere formalities and if I was just a tiny bit patient it would all be worth it. You, would be worth it, you promised.

You just needed to extricate yourself.

I said no. I said I had others I wanted to play with. I said come back to me when you actually are free. Waiting isn’t what I enjoy, waiting holds no guarantee.

But you’re very attractive, what you said was attractive what you offered was – covetable. And every time you came back and asked, my resolve faltered.

How could it not?

You were funny and kind. You were insatiable for knowledge about me, and nothing I said scared you. You learned all my friends’ names and all about my family. You were my brand of easy sexy – not my usual type, I go for dark hair but I liked you anyway – this new departure.

With your liberal open mind – I liked your politics, I liked that you had politics.

I liked that you had a brain, that you weren’t scared of me, happy to challenge but never berate. Calm. Level headed. Sure.

The opposite of me in a lot of ways. But portrayed the same in the important ones.

I didn’t stand a chance.


You called when you said you would, you called for no reason. You called when you were out with your others. Displayed all the right milestones, made sure to tick all the right boxes. It really was well executed, this chase of yours. And what willing prey I became. Offered you my throat.

And so I got attached; I became accustomed to it – the attention, the care, the feeling important to someone? I got drunk on it. I got high. I got addicted, a blissful Icarus. Unaware.

I got used to being cared about, I got used to being thought about, I got used to being considered. It’s so seductive, so pervasive. Started to see why this was so popular. It’s not easy to let someone in, to allow them to care about you, well, not for an independent like me. But you managed to do it slowly, got into my veins so that I didn’t even know how much you had taken hold.

What a mistake.

What a surrender.


I see now with clear eyes what I was. A fantasy; somewhere to run away to, to forget about whatever you needed to hide from. I was an indulgence, to be consumed. I hope you enjoyed it.


But I won’t beat myself up for too long, so what if I believed you, so what if I wanted what you were selling – what does that make me? Nothing but human. Vulnerable. Optimistic?


So please, stay with your safe lover in your safe life. No experience is without learning, I will lick my small wound and soon I will be better. I will know myself better and I will know you, wolf unknown to himself, when I see you again in sheep’s clothes. I may be foolish again, I will certainly make mistakes again, maybe even this exact one.

But not with you.


Don’t worry, nothing’s broken, this will leave no visible bruise.



And by the way, I checked with Debretts and your silence as well as being inexplicable displayed a shocking lack of both manners and common decency. Both of which I would have thought you able to afford me given how much patience and understanding you were happy to take from me.