Referred cocks don't always work out... but neither do the regulars or the bar hookups or the tindered hookups... because, let's face it, many of them couldn't fuck their way out of a paper bag. Or (like this case) they could, but the level of crazy that they are makes the whole experience a pain.

So... I have a very good friend who has similar taste in men that I do (rule of thumb: 8 abs, 8 inches). And she was sleeping with a particularly attractive former (but very recent) college athlete. When she became aware that he had a friend who looked just like him, I told her I was VERY interested in sleeping with him.

So we made a plan to meet them downtown after a long bar night.

He was just as hot as promised! Maybe even more so. 

So far, so good...

He was so tall and built! His arms and shoulders were enormous and defined! In hindsight, it was probably because he was recently out of prison... which would also explain the bad tattoos he was riddled with.

I told him that he should take me back to his place. That was a big mistake. It turned out to be one of the experiences that has taught me to always hookup at my place if at all possible.

I got in his (muscle) car, feeling great about the situation and doing some tipsy flirting with him. Then he started to drive me into the woods. 

Well, shit. 

While he was potentially driving us out to somewhere secluded to murder me, he started telling my about his most recent ex. Specifically, how mad he was that she had filed a restraining order against him...

Well, shit.

I'm not sure which is worse, having a restraining order filed against you, or being too crazy to realize that you should never ever bring that up with a girl you are hooking up with (or anyone who isn't your parole officer).

I have no idea what possessed me to ask him why his ex felt she had to do that. 

"No reason," he replied.

"Bullshit," I said, because apparently I had a death wish.

"Well, nothing really," he tried again.

By the end of our conversation, I discovered that it was indeed something... apparently he had shoved a loaded gun in her mouth.

Well, shit.

I should note here that I don't find dangerous situations exciting, so much as I just accept that they happen sometimes in my eager pursuit of the D. Thank God I am very tough.

However, I resolved to be more polite that evening (so as to not have a gun put in my mouth), and then never call him... no matter how good the sex was.

We finally pulled up to a small house in the woods. I felt some relief, but that was quickly negated by the fact that the house didn't have power or water.

He mumbled some excuse that seemed unlikely. Looking back, I'm pretty sure the house was in some stage of being abandoned... and definitely not his. 

He was really, really built though. I could still see every chiseled muscle and prison tattoo (of which there were many) in the candlelight. 

Ok, it wasn't candlelight... it was the light of a big camping flashlight.

He had a nice dick. It was probably 7 1/4 inches long. Cut. Straight. Medium-sized head. But the shaft wasn't as thick as I would have hoped for.. but still thick enough to get the job done. 

He was nasty, and I love that... but I refused to let him play with my ass (on account of the lack of running water).

I also have a fleeting memory of us standing on his bed while he fucked me from behind. I don't know why that happened. Other than that, the sex was surprisingly normal (by my loose definition). He got me off twice. 

Afterward, he refused to drive me back to my car until the next morning, citing his exhaustion. In fact, he even found his car keys and slept on them... I'm assuming so that I wouldn't steal his car.

I hate sleeping in the same bed as my hookups, even when I'm not concerned about being murdered in my sleep (which crossed my mind this time).

That said, my phone was dead and I had no idea where I was. I didn't think harassing him to take me home (or about anything) was a good idea... so I slept there. Somehow I didn't even get lice!

The car ride back to town the next morning was, of course, terribly awkward. That said, I don't think I felt it deeply, as I was just happy to have come away from the experience unscathed and sexually satisfied.

I am very tough, but I really should consider mace.


Have you ever thought you might die on your quest for the D? I would love it if you commented below and told me about it! :)
Let me start by saying that I am not proud of this story. It is from the distant past (not distant enough)... a past in which I hadn't yet realized that I didn't have to be in a relationship to get laid.

So I was in a relationship with a crazy person... He meant well, but he had done too many hallucinogenic drugs (like WAY too many). 

I'm not being a bitch... and while I'm not a doctor, he was clearly touched. He would have fleeting episodes where he believed he was Jason Bourne (presumably because he had never read any other book series). While his Matt Damon episodes would come and go, he always believed that the government was watching him.

The only defense I have for dating him is that he had the largest dick I had ever seen on a white guy. It was an honest 8 1/4 inches and got rock hard. 

Now for the embarrassing part (as though dating a burned-out lunatic is not humiliating at all)...

Let's call him Bane (not because he was ripped like Tom Hardy in Batman, but because it is close to his actual name... and he was the bane of my existence for a few months).

So Bane would stay at my apartment sometimes, but would always be showered and gone before I awoke because he had very early college classes.

On one particular morning, I got up groggily and stumbled into my bathroom to turn the shower on (as usual). However, that morning, I noticed something in the bathtub/shower. It was small (maybe marble-sized) and brown. I reached down to pick it up.

The moment I touched it, I knew. I just knew...

To confirm, I smelled it (worst idea I've ever had). Yes, it was definitely human feces!

You might think that this would be the most disturbing part of this story... but (sadly) no.

I scrubbed my bathtub and hands with chemicals that shouldn't have touched my skin.

Then I sent him a text I thought I would never have to send to someone I was dating:

Me: "Did you poop in my bathtub?"

Bane: "Why? What happened?"

<Long pause in which I weighed my horror against how big his dick was>

Me: "One of us pooped in my bathtub, and it wasn't me."

Bane: "It was an accident."

I hated him (both in general and at that moment).

Me: "Ok. But why didn't you clean it up?"

Bane: "I thought I did."

Me: "With what? All my cleansers were still in the back of the cabinet."

Bane: "I tried to mash it down the drain with my foot."

There are no words. None.

I would love to be able to end this story with, "And so I broke up with him." Unfortunately, I didn't. 

In fact, I kept dating him (i.e. being his keeper) until I hated him so much that I (albeit briefly) considered running him over with my car. 

For the record, I'm not proud of that either. 

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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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