Please allow me to tell you the horrible story of my brief (but not brief enough) affair with Optimus King.

Please note: while I have changed his name for privacy, the name I have chosen is only equally as ridiculous as his actual name.

He and I met at the library closest to my house. He ran after me as I was leaving and gave me his number. He was very built, but had an odd skin tone.

Because I was still deciding whether or not I could look past his skin color, I texted him and asked him to meet me at a restaurant near my house. This was certainly not my standard operating procedure, but I wanted another chance to check him out before taking him to bed.

Not shockingly, it went poorly. I hated him by the time the appetizer arrived. However, he was even more ripped than I remembered. I could see every bulge and ripple of his upper body through his thin Ed Hardy t-shirt. What a tool. Who still wears Ed Hardy??

Anyway, I tried hard to see the outline of his dick through his (bedazzled) jeans, but was unsuccessful. In fact, I spent most of dinner alternating between staring at his biceps and staring at his crotch.

Fortunately, he didn't seem to notice. I suspect it was because his head was so far up his ass. I tried desperately to ignore the ridiculous name-dropping bullshit that was coming out of his mouth.

I should have told him that the fact that he didn't have a car negated any efforts to impress me with the illustrious career and connections he claimed to have. But he was so hot....

He spent (what felt like) an hour talking about his enviable career as a fashion designer. Not only was he "rich and successful" but he was the "#2 fashion designer of sportswear in the world."

I considered asking him whether he was ahead of Reebok or Adidas for the title. I really should have for my own amusement, but instead, I just stared at his crotch.

Then I got to hear about his latest fashion design. It sounded like a terrible combination of a jersey and a quilt. Whatever. His biceps were as big as my thighs, (which are pretty large).

As we left the restaurant, I decided that I did want to sleep with him, but that I needed at least a day to shower the bullshit off of me.

Fast-forward to me picking him up from the bus stop near my house (story of my life). I had a game plan! I blasted the radio in my car so as to remove the temptation for him to talk to me. I chose a country station because I hated him. And I sang along because I really hated him.

The moment we got into my house, I dragged him upstairs by the wrist. I threw open my bedroom door and pushed him down onto my bed.

I immediately removed his shirt (another Ed Hardy v-neck) and pants. I couldn't tell if they were the same pants from our last encounter. I certainly wouldn't put it past him to have multiple pairs of bedazzled jeans.

He was hard by the time I got his jeans off. I love that. Soft dick has never done anything for anyone.

I was thrilled to see that it was almost as thick as a beer bottle. It wasn't particularly long (maybe 6 1/2 or 7 inches), but the girth was amazing! It was very symmetrical, and one of those nice cocks that gets and stays rock-hard. And his body was just the icing on the cake.

Of course he didn’t bring his own condoms, but I had a few (hundred) magnums in my drawer for just such an occasion.

I got on top of him and slowly worked myself down onto the cock. And suddenly, listening to all the bullshit was so worth it! We fucked for a little over 2 hours, with him doing most of the work. And he sure did know how to work it!

I would revisit this cock quite a few times before blocking his number.
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It all started with me getting (very) drunk at Olive Garden. I’m not proud of that, but it happened.

Actually, it all started about a month prior, with very intentional flirting (on my part) with a particularly hot cop who just happened to be my neighbor. In retrospect, dating (or fucking) a neighbor seems like an obvious misstep, but anyway…

I should mention that, not only was he a cop, he was also in the Army Reserves (or National Guard or something) that involved a lot of working out and a sexy uniform. Needless-to-say, I was really looking forward to seeing him naked. And then fucking him.

He finally invited me out to dinner, which I countered with dinner and “watching a movie” at his place (which was 12 stairs away from my place). It seemed perfect… until it was terrible.

He picked me up and announced that he would take me to Olive Garden (which I don’t like, but seem to keep going to somehow). Once there, it quickly became obvious that he was the most boring man in the world. It was almost as though he had frontal lobe damage or something.

So I decided to get through it with two long island iced teas. Both were surprisingly strong. Disclaimer: I had also had a shot (or three) beforehand. I’m not an alcoholic. I think it was reasonable for me to ask my liver to take one for the team. Team Vagina.

Even as drunk as I was, his small talk (about his jogging routine and the trials and tribulations of potty-training his dog) was unbearable. I insisted we skip dessert, which was fine, since apparently he only ate Paleo or something. I’m not sure that sub-par chicken parm and unlimited breadsticks were Paleo… but whatever.

When we finally got back to his place to “watch a movie,” I was instantly struck by how scary clean it was. Like institution-clean. Like I wasn’t even sure he actually lived there. Whatever, he may have been crazy, but he was also crazy-hot.

He put the movie in and we started to make out on his couch. Unfortunately, he was a terrible kisser, which was a horrible shame since I don't even like kissing. So, naturally, I reached down to grab his cock to speed things past the making-out stage. I grabbed around for a minute before I finally felt it. And it was small. Like really small. It wasn’t comically small, but it was close.

Since I obviously was no longer interested in sleeping with him, I decided to play it like I really wanted to watch the movie and “wasn’t that kind of girl.” (For the record, I am totally that kind of girl.)

I pushed him away gently and told him I wanted to watch the movie. This didn’t really dissuade him. We repeated the process twice more before he got an (awful) idea:

“Oh, I know what you want,” he said, smug about his supposed revelation.

“To watch the movie?” I asked rhetorically, unamused.

“You want this,” he said as he moved his face down toward my crotch.

“No thank you,” I said, as politely as I could. Since he was an atrocious kisser, there was absolutely no way I was going to let him try on my vagina.

“I know what you want,” he repeated as he dipped down once more.

“Let’s just watch the movie,” I said, still trying to be nice about diffusing the situation, but definitely getting irritated with his pushiness.

“No, I know what you want.” And he put his head down in my lap.

No means no. And unfortunately for him, I had had enough of his shenanigans. I grabbed him by both ears, pulled his face up to an inch away from mine, and screamed in his face:

“What about ‘I don’t want your tongue in my twat’ do you not understand??”

He definitely looked horrified. I definitely looked like a crazy person. And I was ok with that. I then got up silently and walked out with him shouting after me, begging me to stay.

He texted me to apologize the next day, which was nice. And then he asked me out again....

I declined. 

Suffice it to say, running into him weekly at our apartment complex was a treat.

And that’s how I learned my lesson about not sleeping with my neighbors.
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ABOUT ME

Empowered female.

PURPOSE

My raison d’etre is to bring about social equality. For women, such as myself, that means being empowered and empowering other women. There are so many aspects of our lives in which we can practice this, but I choose to focus on our sexuality, because it is a particular passion of mine. Men have been objectifying us for thousands of years. So why are we so late to the party? I enjoy sex (a lot), and I think you should too. I respect myself (a lot), and I think you should too. I would like to show you what this looks like for me. I will not embellish nor exclude any significant details, no matter how private social norms say they should be. It is time for women to step into the light, and start living every day exactly the way we desire. We no longer have to live under the thumb of a man. Nor do we have to live in his shadow. We will only live under the weight of his scrutiny so long as we allow ourselves to. Our self-worth is in no way determined by the opinions of men (or anyone else, for that matter), but by our own opinions of ourselves. No longer will our bodies be subjected to scrutiny, without scrutiny in return. No longer will a man with a child-sized penis feel that he has any ground to stand on when making disparaging remarks about a woman’s body. Fuck him and his little penis. We are strong, and we are worthy. We don't need permission.

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