Goodbye!

This is going to be the final blog for Sniffles.

Realizing I’ve been the victim of constant and repeated emotional and physical abuse at the hands of Texas has made me re-evaluate my choices and how I live my life. I need a break from the steamy affairs.

This is my chance to live my life for myself finally, and part of that means Marie Kondo-ing everything that reminds me of him, and sadly that means this blog.

It’s been fun, until it wasn’t anymore. Thank you for reading my pleasures and remember that life is too short for bad sex.

Mr. Safety

Since the snow forced us to cancel our date tonight, I’ll tell you about one of the guys I’m dating…

You ever meet someone and they’re just….safe? Right after I officially ended things with Texas, this guy hits me up and we start talking. It was that all day, all night conversation that just flowed so freely and easily. We went on our first date and there was no sex – I really like him and didn’t want to be a rebound.

Our conversation didn’t even hit a sexual nature until about a week after our first date and I was horny. So I sent him this picture

And from there everything sped up. The first time I went to his house, we talked for hours. And then hooked up for hours. What I had intended to be a couple hours turned into an overnight stay late into the next day.

He’s a big dude. 6’4, 300lbs. He’s the kind of guy a girl like me can climb. And I do. He’s big into foreplay. Which after not getting any with Texas, is so refreshing. Mr. Safe pays attention to how my body responds and gives me more when I want it and recalibrates his approach when I don’t respond the way he wants.

The actual sex with him is…okay.

I’ve actually had more fun sitting on his face and playing with 69-style with him than I’ve had actually having sex. I like standing over him and forcing him to taste me. I like making him clean himself off my tits after he’s cum on them.

So he’s safe. He’s someone I can explore things with and enjoy myself with. It’s not my favorite. But it’s safe.

The aspiring star

While I’m sitting here at work bored to death I’ll tell you one of a few stories about how I got to be known as the welcome wagon at my old job…

So I believe I mentioned a while ago that I used to work in radio, and because of our format we had a ton of new artists coming through the door to impress us.

One particular day a cute little cowboy came strutting into our office with his wranglers, Stetson hat, and guitar on his shoulder. He was adorable and had dimples so deep you could swim in them and walked with a gait that screamed “I HAVE A BIG JUICY DICK!”

My bosses made the mistake of inviting me out to dinner with them, this guy and his rep. While the big wigs discussed airplay and the latest industry happenings he and I had a few strong drinks and nice conversation. At the end of the night he wanted to continue drinking so everyone left us and went home. We closed out this little dive (which has become my usual drunken late night go to with musicians) after I had my hands down his pants stroking him under the bar. I’ll never forget what he kept telling me:

“Damn girl, you’re wild. You like a little danger don’t cha? You’re the kind of girl who’s down to go anywhere.”

We got back to his room and fooled around a bit. He suckled my tits like he was a baby, which right now would have been fine because of how sensitive they’ve been lately, but back then I couldn’t feel a damn thing.

He kept telling me I could never tell because the image they’re going for is a single and sweet southern gentleman. Bahaha. When he took his dick out of his pants he hopped on top of me to alternate between titty and face fucking me. To his credit, those jeans didn’t tell a damn lie. My gag reflex isn’t super sensitive but he had me gagging with less than 3/4 of his dick in my mouth. He was mindful to pin my arms down with his knees, so he was in total control. He blew one load down the back of my throat, rolled off of me and told me to give him 10 minutes.

When he was in fighting condition again, he told me to flip over so he could ride me like a bucking bronco. He closed my legs, straddled me, spread my ass and rammed me in the prone position (my favorite) and I made some stupid comment about bucking like a bronco which I immediately regretted when he shoved two fingers into my ass…he definitely had me bucking at that point 😉

When he finished on my ass, he asked me to stay the night with him and being drunk and broke I really had no choice. I made it out before he woke up and the next few times we saw each other after that was completely casual, except when he’d sing this one song, he’d look directly in my eyes the whole time and do this little pseudo-air humping motion.

Mystery Man

So long story short I threw my back out Friday and have been in constant pain (bad pain) since then.  It all accumulated today when I had to fucking roll and slide out of my bed (a three foot drop to the ground), army crawl to the stairs, slide down those, and army crawl into my kitchen to find food because I’d been awake for 8 hours and needed to stuff my face.  In between the pain meds, muscle relaxers and down time I’ve spent a lot of time thinking….which is incredibly dangerous for me.  My mind is my greatest weapon when it comes to me being my own worst enemy.

For some reason I keep thinking about this dream over and over in my head that I had last night…

I’m cooking dinner when a man shows up at my door…I don’t know who he is.  Not literally (because according to him we know each other)  but in my mind I can’t make out his features…all I know is he smells like Arber cologne from The Body Shop (the number 1 scent on a man that instantly turns me on).  I greet him with a kiss on the cheek and a quick hug and invite him in.  He’s familiar.  His presence is safe and comforting.

He’s dressed in nice jeans and a dark blue button down shirt and I’m in this drop front black dress and 6inch, red, patent leather wedges.  I tower over him but it doesn’t bother me.

I’m cooking flank steak, Spanish rice and have fresh tortillas warming in the oven.  He picks up a knife and starts helping me dice onions and peppers.  When dinner is ready we sit in front of my window overlooking the bay.  Its a clear night right around dusk and the sunset is creating the warm orange/pinkish glow that accents the lights on the port and city beautifully.  We enjoy our meal and talk about politics, social issues and aliens (don’t ask).

We move over to my couch to continue the conversation, and the topics shift from personal views and opinions to talking about sexual histories.  We spend hours probing each others minds about various fetishes, fantasies and desires over a bottles of wine when I decide to kick things up a notch.  I straddle him as he tries to tell me about the time in college that he had a threesome.  I’m kissing him everywhere…his lips to his ears, down his neck, around his collar bone and back up to his lips as he slides his hand up my thigh and under my dress.  I’m not wearing any panties and he takes advantage of that; running his fingers in between my cheeks and gently grazing my backside.  In my dream I’m anticipating him exploring more and my heart starts to race with excitement. I want nothing more than for him to discover my body.  To find out how to touch me and where to touch me to elicit the responses he wants.

I can feel him hardening under me with every movement of my hips grinding into him.  I start to unbutton his shirt and run my hands over his chest and through his dark brown hair…I love a man with chest hair.  Jesus-fucking-Christ do I love a man with thick chest hair.

He tells me he’s missed the feel of my skin in his hands, that he missed the way I sucked on his ear…the way I moaned when he used to bite my bottom lip and the he way I move my body when he runs his hands over my lower back and ass.  All I can think about is how familiar this is.  How much I’ve wanted this from him…and even though I’m inches away from his face I can’t tell who he is.  The lights are down in my apartment and the only illumination is coming from the lights of the city. 

I work my way down his body as I’m unbuttoning the rest of his shirt until I get to the waist band of his pants.  I look up at him and smile. I want what’s under his pants.  I want to worship his cock and show him how much I love it.  He puts his hands in my hair and tells me, “do what you want baby”.  I take my time unwrapping him.  I’m excited and want to savor every moment and I can’t take my eyes off him.  He’s studying me, watching my hands and my face….I secretly hope he can’t tell how much I want him.  I hope he can’t see the anticipation in my eyes. 

I pull his pants and boxers off and he’s rock solid in all of his glory and I can’t help but smile as I take him in my mouth and swirl my tongue around his head.  I love the sigh he gives me as I make my way down his shaft, working my hands in a circular motion around his base as my head bobs up and down on him.  When he grabs my head he doesn’t force me down on him, he doesn’t try to control me, he just holds onto me like I’m whats keeping him connected to this world.  The longer I have him in my mouth the less I want to stop myself.  I stop to tell him how much I love his cock and how perfect it is and he just smiles at me and tells me to “come here.”  I don’t want to stop but he gives me a little yank on my hair. 

As I stand up he grabs my hips and lowers me onto him, slowly until he’s fully inside of me.  I start rocking back and forth with guidance from his hands on my hips and I can already start to feel the ecstasy building inside of me. He’s controlling the pace and keeping things slow, but his grasp on my body is getting tighter.  He moves his hands up my back and pulls me into him so my breasts smother his face.  He takes my nipple in his mouth and bites down gently, enough to send a shiver up my spine adding to the pleasure I’m already experiencing.

He starts to increase the pace I’m riding him at and I can’t control myself anymore. I’m right there on that edge, teetering back and forth as I’m riding him…everything is being stimulated and he grabs my face and kisses me.  He can tell I’m going to cum soon and tells me to wait for him because he’s close too.  He wants to look me in my eyes as he pushes me over the edge. My body explodes and shakes uncontrollably as he drags my hips across his lap in short, disjointed strokes.  I’m hot and sweaty and collapsed in a heap on him…

We sit there for a while, in silence…blissful silence.  He strokes up and down my back with his hands as I kiss his shoulders and its just perfect and comforting.

 

Then my horny ass woke up in pain and it was over.  Just like that.  Stupid fucking subconscious.

Who was that guy in my dream?  Why was the sex so incredible? It was so gentle but that orgasm was fucking fantastic…Why was I cooking Mexican food instead of something that’s more my style?  Why wasn’t I able to make out his face?  Why did he feel so safe and comfortable?  Why didn’t we get in bed?

So many questions and ZERO answers god dammit.

Ugh.

 

Another TBT…

The best date I’ve ever been on was in college. He was a senior and I was a junior. We met in my urban planning class and he was the most adorable nerd I’ve ever met. We got to know each other and started to casually date. Well one night he said he wanted to surprise me.

It started off with a really sweet walk through our city. I love architecture and he knew that, so we just walked and talked…I didn’t think we were going anywhere in particular so when we got to this really snazzy Italian restaurant I was obsessed with. He got us the table with the best view of the water front at sunset. From there we walked back to his car and went back to his place for drinks (he was a bartender).

Of course the second we got back to his place we didn’t have time for drinks. Making out with him was always passionate. And soft. He sucked my bottom lip for what felt like ever…which I loved. If a man can suck my bottom lip the right way, I’m putty in his hands.

We didn’t stop kidding until we found his bed somehow. And just kept kidding for a while. I felt like a teenager again. He was all about the details too. So he moved slowly with his lips from my mouth, to my cheek, to my ears to my neck. When he got to the strap on my dress he took it off my shoulder with his teeth…actually he ended up taking my whole dress off with his teeth, which was incredibly erotic. In that moment, I wanted nothing more that to feel him in me…on me…everywhere.

I tried to rush through any foreplay he had in mind, and his response to that was to tie my wrists together so I couldn’t actually physically stop him. I’ve been tied up before. But with him it was different. Not in a sense of dominance, but a sense of want. He wanted to take his time on me. He wanted me to enjoy myself. He knew I liked it rough even though he liked to “make love”…what we had that night was the perfect meshing of both.

I was surprised when he disappeared and came back with a lit candle. Part of me thought it was for ambiance…part of me knew exactly what it was for, and I couldn’t wait for him to use it on me.

Before he did anything with the candle, he got undressed. He told me it was so I could see the way he reacted to me. I’ve never had a man tell me that and it more or less made me go “d’aawww. What a sweetie.” But got someone like me who enjoys seeing my partners aroused it was enough visual stimulation to make me wet and make my nipples turn rock hard. Oh my god. Watching his dick jump at the sight of me writing under him pouring hot wax on my breasts was the biggest turn on. I was watching as the wax dropped from the candle to my body, so I could anticipate the sting. I thought him blind folding me was to have an element of surprise but as soon as the blind fold went on, the wax stopped and he moved on to caressing my pussy. Just rubbing it. Then out of no where he SMACKED it. And smacked it and smacked it some more.

I’m literally about to cum just from this. When he suddenly stops that, too. The thought of him going down on me was enough to almost turn me off, and thankfully he didn’t even go there. No…he grabbed my wrists and put them around his neck and took the blind fold off finally.

When he fucked me…it was so weird. It was mysterious. He definitely believed that the steady horse wins the race. It was the most intimate sex is ever had up to that point. He was so calculated with every stoke; alternating between long, slow thrusts to short, hard ones. Not only was he fucking my body, but he was fucking my mind. He talked to me. Told me everything he wanted to do to me just before he did it. He took control in such a gentle way in that sense.

He was one of those guys that could fuck like he was running a marathon. There was no stopping, everything was seamless. Including my orgasms.

Usually I have a lot of quick and intense orgasms. But he drew them out of me in the longest way. I could feel them coming minutes before they actually happened. Every nerve in my body tingling as he pumped into me. When I finally reached my peaks it was like I went deaf and blind simultaneously. I couldn’t even make a noise. No moans, no panting…just pure silence.

What surprised me was when he pulled out, untied my hands and went straight into titty fucking me. He went from steady and calculated to staggered and impatient. I’ve never understood what men like about titty fucking but I’m not going to complain. I got what I needed. The only thing that was reminiscent of who he was earlier was him cumming. He was so graceful it was like watching the ballet. Just flawless. And as amazing as the sex was, I was kind of pissed because I wanted to lick his jizz off my chest but it was mixed in with dried candle wax and didn’t taste very good.

I did feel bad though afterwards. Because I’m not used to going out on “dates”…I almost immediately got up and wobbled out of his house. He was hurt. We never had another date after that. But that kind of sex has stuck with me ever since.