Look, I’m young, OK? I don’t know much about anything except makeup, and ya, I’ll write about that (let me tell you my new vibrating mascara wand is way cool and I am not kidding either). So what does that leave me with? Well there is school, and I used to journal about that. But man was that boring… insipid, even.

That leaves me with sex.

I’m good with sex. Yuppers, sex with women, sex with men. Well, sex with young women and sex preferably with man-boys (don’t seem to have luck with men-men).

I was way confused right before high school. At first I thought I was gay, but then I started fantasizing about boys sticking their penis in me while licking my breasts. In a roundabout way, I realized I was bisexual.

Which started sucking.

I found a girl attracted to me but she accused me of being gay and just being in denial. That one hurt. Especially since she was a poufy licker extraordinaire.

Then men, well, hell. They find out I am bi and they think they have “turned me” from gay to straight.

NO!

Or they want a threesome with another girl.

NO!

Then I actually met another bisexual. We didn’t exactly hate each other, but we didn’t like each other either. We were both disappointed, he more so than me, I think. He really liked my ass and I think he wanted to stick his dick up there in some bi-guy hunter thing. Only, I have a “you shall not stick things in my pooper” rule.

You would think an equal opportunist romper would live a life of low-hanging fruit. In reality, I am usually lonely. I want the same thing as any other girl. I want someone to love, someone to love me, I want to be in love. Only, sometimes I want the woman, and sometimes I want the man.

But this is no woe is me blog.  All things being equal, I live a good life (and get a great discount on makeup!) So, join me while I talk about naughty bits…

A friend of mine, one of those eternal optimists that sometimes grates on your nerves but you like to be around anyway because she is not a bitch (and you know what I mean), said I was being a tensy-wensy bit shallow with Mr. Insipid Puppy Kicker.

Okay, yes. I was.

But my point still stands. The world is filled with people who yell and are selfish and say mean things. I just can’t spend the energy on them. If I thought that maybe he was having a bad week or something then sure I would give him a chance. My gut, my little tummy, says run away. So I did.

I’ll tell you one thing. Mr. IPK was the undisputed MASTER at doggie style fucking. I had never done it before that way (secretly, I had this fear of some eager dude just sticking it in my small little butt), and when we first did it, that’s what he wanted to do, so we did. And holy crap!

It was amazing!

My prosaic (or should that be INSIPID) confession: I was a big missionary style fan, because it’s just very intimate. But boy-howdy doggie style. He’s banging away back there and it was like my g-spot was being jolted with every thrust. The first time was like

“Oh” (thrust) “my” (thrust) “God” (thrust) “you” (thrust) “have” (thrust) “the” (thrust) “best” (at this point I dully note my face is in the pillow) “looking” (thrust) “ass” (thrust) “and” (thrust) “your” (thrust) “little” (thrust)  ”cunt” (thrust) “feels” (thrust) “so” (thrust)  ”good” (thrust)  and

and them I am coming, the orgasm isn’t one of those cute little releases where you scrunch your toes. It was like being zapped with a gigantic jolt of FUCK, literally I was so wound up my fingers popped and then I screamed. And he was still going. Then I was grunting. Me. Grunting! I couldn’t think. I couldn’t breathe and then he came inside me and I screamed again. Two! I came twice! OMG!

Yes I am vain (hello, makeup girl), him praising the wonders of my girlish figure got me going.

That weekend, anyplace he could bend me over in my bachelor-shoe-box apartment he did, and I let him. Insisted. Begged.

The moral of this story?

Don’t be mean to girls.