Dear Straight Boys,
Just a bit of friendly advice: Do not hit on girls at the gay bar. Even if a girl is straight, or at the very least, straight-ish, there is a reason that she is at the gay bar. Whether she is with her girlfriend(s) or her gays, she didn't come out to be hit on by men. Even if you are a nice guy (and for some reason, I doubt that you are) by hitting on a girl at the gay bar you inevitably come off as creepy, unattractively confused, and worst of all, an annoying motherfucker.
So knock it off!
xo,
Anna Smash
15 August 2007
13 August 2007
And a Pinch to Grow an Inch
Today is my birthday. That means that it’s been a little over a year since I split up with The Ex. In the past year my life has grown full of friends and lovers. There have been a few missteps, mishaps, mistakes, and forgive me for being sentimental, but there has been a lot of joy too. I’ve met Jefferson and a lot of great people through him. Gentleman Whore takes damn good care of me.
Most recently, and maybe most significantly, I’ve met my (gasp!) boyfriend, Nick. For my birthday he gave me the Suicide Girls: The First Tour DVD and a gift certificate to our local feminist sex toy shop. My love knows me so well. Never mind the part where he will surely benefit from these gifts too.
Have I mentioned that there has been some amazing sex in the past year too?
My good fortune in friends, lovers, and fucking was well-highlighted by the wedding that Nick and I attended on Saturday.
The bride is a good friend of mine and I wish her husband and her all of the love, luck, and good sex in the world.
Don’t worry, my crew and I made plenty of “think of England” jokes, and we represented on the dance floor as well.
Including Nick, I have slept with four of the guests, and in addition, I have made out with two members of the wedding party.
First there’s Molly. Remember last year’s birthday? Yeah, it has only gotten hotter since then.
“She made me call her mistress and beat me with a tennis racket,” I whispered to Nick.
The two of them danced quite the salsa later that night.
Then of course, there’s Derek. He’s been a bit of a flake as a fuck buddy, but I’ve got no hard feelings.
This leads us to June. She’s slept with Derek too.
To complete this messy little quad, June, Nick, and I had a threesome a few weeks ago. If only we could get Derek to sleep with Nick, we’d be all set.
Rachel, one of the bridesmaids, and I made out during my turn as Anna Smash, Pride 2007 Make-Out Bandit.
Finally, there’s Erik, one of my favorite gay make out buddies. As a bonus, he’s always ready to hear my latest tales from my life as a hedonist. These days he’s got his very own chicken hawk boyfriend. I like to think that I was his inspiration.
Unbelievably, Nick and his friends have even more complicated entanglements, and I’m working my way into their circle too.
For my birthday night I’m hoping to treat myself to a pretty lady, whom I’ve begun to call My Little Southern Spitfire. Don’t worry; I’ll let you know all about it.
Most recently, and maybe most significantly, I’ve met my (gasp!) boyfriend, Nick. For my birthday he gave me the Suicide Girls: The First Tour DVD and a gift certificate to our local feminist sex toy shop. My love knows me so well. Never mind the part where he will surely benefit from these gifts too.
Have I mentioned that there has been some amazing sex in the past year too?
My good fortune in friends, lovers, and fucking was well-highlighted by the wedding that Nick and I attended on Saturday.
The bride is a good friend of mine and I wish her husband and her all of the love, luck, and good sex in the world.
Don’t worry, my crew and I made plenty of “think of England” jokes, and we represented on the dance floor as well.
Including Nick, I have slept with four of the guests, and in addition, I have made out with two members of the wedding party.
First there’s Molly. Remember last year’s birthday? Yeah, it has only gotten hotter since then.
“She made me call her mistress and beat me with a tennis racket,” I whispered to Nick.
The two of them danced quite the salsa later that night.
Then of course, there’s Derek. He’s been a bit of a flake as a fuck buddy, but I’ve got no hard feelings.
This leads us to June. She’s slept with Derek too.
To complete this messy little quad, June, Nick, and I had a threesome a few weeks ago. If only we could get Derek to sleep with Nick, we’d be all set.
Rachel, one of the bridesmaids, and I made out during my turn as Anna Smash, Pride 2007 Make-Out Bandit.
Finally, there’s Erik, one of my favorite gay make out buddies. As a bonus, he’s always ready to hear my latest tales from my life as a hedonist. These days he’s got his very own chicken hawk boyfriend. I like to think that I was his inspiration.
Unbelievably, Nick and his friends have even more complicated entanglements, and I’m working my way into their circle too.
For my birthday night I’m hoping to treat myself to a pretty lady, whom I’ve begun to call My Little Southern Spitfire. Don’t worry; I’ll let you know all about it.
08 August 2007
The Return of Anna
It was nearly one in the morning when I finally ascended the stairs of the subway on to the streets of Manhattan. I was restless from sitting on the plane, and then sitting while waiting for the train, and then sitting, once again, on the train. It felt good to stretch my legs. I grinned as I bounded through the night, down the streets that were now familiar.
Inside the first doors to the building I paused to look up the code so that I could call up to the apartment, but the doorman let me in before I even had a chance and I gave him a smile as I crossed the lobby.
The sense of familiarity was as exciting as the anticipation. I knew this lobby; I knew this elevator; I knew that it was a left and then a right once I was deposited on the correct floor.
Nervousness has many of the same physical manifestations as arousal: flushed cheeks, sweating, increased heart rate, heightened senses. My pussy quietly awoke, yawning and stretching, as I stood there in the hallway, knocking. My labia, shaved earlier that day, rubbed nakedly against the fabric of my panties as I knocked again. I could feel the moisture just barely beginning to collect at the entrance to my cunt as I reached into my bag for my phone.
“Hey honey. Were you sleeping?” I asked.
“No, no. Where are you?”
“Right outside your door.”
“Is it locked?”
“Uh, huh.”
“I’ll be there in a second.”
I stood there enjoying the last moments of anticipation before the door opened.
When Jefferson poked his head around the open door, I was grinning stupidly.
I stepped inside, into his arms, against his naked body, and kissed him. It was sweet for a moment, and then it was more aggressive, needy, possessive. Our opened lips mashed together and our tongues were fighting, grabbing, grasping.
Barely breaking apart, Jefferson pulled my messenger bag off my shoulder. We resumed our kissing as though we were trying to swallow each other whole, and he stripped me, tugging at the clasps on my pants as I kicked off my shoes. Once nude, my clothes were left there, in a pile, just inside the door, where they would remain for the next three days.
Jefferson put his hands on my shoulders and half guided me, half pushed me ahead of him to his bedroom.
In the bedroom Jefferson practically threw me onto the bed.
Rolling on a condom, he grabbed the bottle of lube from the bedside table.
“No time for foreplay,” he said applying a generous dollop to his sheathed cock, “I want you.”
And like that he was inside me.
I grinned, my mouth stretched wide, practically laughing as he hammered into my pussy. He put my legs over his shoulders and pressed into me. Never before had familiarity been so fucking hot.
Although I was aware of another person in the room, sitting in one of the chairs, I was barely given an opportunity to acknowledge her presence.
My focus on fucking wavered due to the persistent physical need nagging at me.
“Um, can I have a glass of water?” I interrupted.
“When you come you can have water and a bourbon.”
“I want you to fuck me from behind.”
Jefferson got up and stood at the foot of the bed.
He looked at me expectantly.
“Come on, you remember.”
I rolled over and got on my hands and knees, wiggling my body backwards to the end of the bed. My ass was pointed upwards, my cunt was exposed, eagerly waiting. Jefferson clasped his hands around my hips and drove into me.
I felt good; I was happy.
I was tired.
Jefferson worked me, trying to coax an orgasm up and out.
My mind was swirling with excitement and exhaustion. I had been in transit for hours. I hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before.
My hands slid out so that I was resting on my elbows. As Jefferson fucked me I tried to bring my mind back to the task at hand.
My body rebelled and my mind refused to connect with my pussy. Exasperated, I allowed my arms to slide further forward so that I was no longer holding myself up at all, but lying with my face and breasts on the bed.
Jefferson took note of my frustration and relented. He pulled out of me and went to the kitchen to get the water and the bourbon, neither of which I had earned.
Alone, the woman sitting in the chair and I looked at each other. I gave her a big grin, as if to say, isn’t it funny how we find ourselves in these kind of situations?
We introduced ourselves and chatted about my trip and compared tattoos.
Her name was Luxx and she had beautiful, soft breasts. She had matching rings in each of her nipples and her navel, all with a small opalescent bead. Her dark hair was a wild mess of tight curls. When she arrived at Jefferson’s her hair had been perfectly straight, she told me.
“It’s true,” Jefferson confirmed, returning with the beverages, “She had hair like Cher’s when she got here.”
I gulped the water greedily and then sprawled out on the bed to sip on the bourbon. Jefferson sat on the floor so that he was positioned between Luxx and me. I filled Jefferson in on the previous night’s developments with Mr. Almost Forty.
Eventually Jefferson reached up and began kissing Luxx. They moved to the bed, and Luxx made half-hearted protestations that she needed to go home because her kitties were missing her. She was quickly quieted as Jefferson sucked, licked, and fucked her into submission.
Well, she wasn’t exactly quieted. It was more like the noises coming from her mouth became more preverbal than verbal.
Feeling uncharacteristically voyeuristic, I moved myself to the chair that Luxx had been occupying and watched them. A sleepy smile spread across my face as Jefferson’s hair became messy and sweaty, and Luxx writhed underneath him.
Looking over, Jefferson noticed me lazily playing with my clit.
“Would you like to join us?”
I smiled and nodded, setting my bourbon glass down. As I crawled onto the bed, Jefferson moved his attentions from Luxx to me. He fucked me while he kissed Luxx, but Luxx and I had yet to actually touch each other.
Our fucking reached one of those natural breaks and as we lay there Luxx reiterated her need to get home.
But then, almost shyly, she said: “I wanna kiss Anna before I go.”
I had a feeling that her shyness was merely an act—or at least a carefully cultivated aspect of her personality.
I was sitting, she was lying, and I leaned over to kiss her, my hair hanging down across her face.
Our kiss was tentative at first, but quickly grew in intensity. Within a minute we were stretched out on the bed, our limbs wrapped around one another.
We quickly forgot about Jefferson; his presence was no longer strictly necessary.
I held Luxx tightly against my body. One of my thighs was pressed firmly between her legs, and one of her thighs was pressed firmly between mine. I ground my clit against her and she rubbed her clit against me in a slight up and down motion. I was vaguely aware of the spiky end of the barbell in her clit hood pushing into the flesh of my leg.
We came together, her yelps and screams mingling with my moans.
We continued to hold each other as our orgasms subsided, and our breathing slowed.
I’m not sure which one of us started it, but soon we were laughing hysterically. Maybe it was post-orgasmic bliss, maybe it was the absurdity of the circumstances of our meeting, or maybe it was the result of pure exhaustion. In any case, I was happy. I was where I belonged.
Jefferson re-joined us for awhile and several orgasms later Luxx finally pulled on her skirt, fastened her heavy belt, and left for home.
When she was gone Jefferson told me that that had been their first date, and in fact, it had been her first time with a man in years. The next day Luxx emailed Jefferson and we found out that it had been her first threesome as well.
The firsts for the weekend were far from over, however.
Inside the first doors to the building I paused to look up the code so that I could call up to the apartment, but the doorman let me in before I even had a chance and I gave him a smile as I crossed the lobby.
The sense of familiarity was as exciting as the anticipation. I knew this lobby; I knew this elevator; I knew that it was a left and then a right once I was deposited on the correct floor.
Nervousness has many of the same physical manifestations as arousal: flushed cheeks, sweating, increased heart rate, heightened senses. My pussy quietly awoke, yawning and stretching, as I stood there in the hallway, knocking. My labia, shaved earlier that day, rubbed nakedly against the fabric of my panties as I knocked again. I could feel the moisture just barely beginning to collect at the entrance to my cunt as I reached into my bag for my phone.
“Hey honey. Were you sleeping?” I asked.
“No, no. Where are you?”
“Right outside your door.”
“Is it locked?”
“Uh, huh.”
“I’ll be there in a second.”
I stood there enjoying the last moments of anticipation before the door opened.
When Jefferson poked his head around the open door, I was grinning stupidly.
I stepped inside, into his arms, against his naked body, and kissed him. It was sweet for a moment, and then it was more aggressive, needy, possessive. Our opened lips mashed together and our tongues were fighting, grabbing, grasping.
Barely breaking apart, Jefferson pulled my messenger bag off my shoulder. We resumed our kissing as though we were trying to swallow each other whole, and he stripped me, tugging at the clasps on my pants as I kicked off my shoes. Once nude, my clothes were left there, in a pile, just inside the door, where they would remain for the next three days.
Jefferson put his hands on my shoulders and half guided me, half pushed me ahead of him to his bedroom.
In the bedroom Jefferson practically threw me onto the bed.
Rolling on a condom, he grabbed the bottle of lube from the bedside table.
“No time for foreplay,” he said applying a generous dollop to his sheathed cock, “I want you.”
And like that he was inside me.
I grinned, my mouth stretched wide, practically laughing as he hammered into my pussy. He put my legs over his shoulders and pressed into me. Never before had familiarity been so fucking hot.
Although I was aware of another person in the room, sitting in one of the chairs, I was barely given an opportunity to acknowledge her presence.
My focus on fucking wavered due to the persistent physical need nagging at me.
“Um, can I have a glass of water?” I interrupted.
“When you come you can have water and a bourbon.”
“I want you to fuck me from behind.”
Jefferson got up and stood at the foot of the bed.
He looked at me expectantly.
“Come on, you remember.”
I rolled over and got on my hands and knees, wiggling my body backwards to the end of the bed. My ass was pointed upwards, my cunt was exposed, eagerly waiting. Jefferson clasped his hands around my hips and drove into me.
I felt good; I was happy.
I was tired.
Jefferson worked me, trying to coax an orgasm up and out.
My mind was swirling with excitement and exhaustion. I had been in transit for hours. I hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before.
My hands slid out so that I was resting on my elbows. As Jefferson fucked me I tried to bring my mind back to the task at hand.
My body rebelled and my mind refused to connect with my pussy. Exasperated, I allowed my arms to slide further forward so that I was no longer holding myself up at all, but lying with my face and breasts on the bed.
Jefferson took note of my frustration and relented. He pulled out of me and went to the kitchen to get the water and the bourbon, neither of which I had earned.
Alone, the woman sitting in the chair and I looked at each other. I gave her a big grin, as if to say, isn’t it funny how we find ourselves in these kind of situations?
We introduced ourselves and chatted about my trip and compared tattoos.
Her name was Luxx and she had beautiful, soft breasts. She had matching rings in each of her nipples and her navel, all with a small opalescent bead. Her dark hair was a wild mess of tight curls. When she arrived at Jefferson’s her hair had been perfectly straight, she told me.
“It’s true,” Jefferson confirmed, returning with the beverages, “She had hair like Cher’s when she got here.”
I gulped the water greedily and then sprawled out on the bed to sip on the bourbon. Jefferson sat on the floor so that he was positioned between Luxx and me. I filled Jefferson in on the previous night’s developments with Mr. Almost Forty.
Eventually Jefferson reached up and began kissing Luxx. They moved to the bed, and Luxx made half-hearted protestations that she needed to go home because her kitties were missing her. She was quickly quieted as Jefferson sucked, licked, and fucked her into submission.
Well, she wasn’t exactly quieted. It was more like the noises coming from her mouth became more preverbal than verbal.
Feeling uncharacteristically voyeuristic, I moved myself to the chair that Luxx had been occupying and watched them. A sleepy smile spread across my face as Jefferson’s hair became messy and sweaty, and Luxx writhed underneath him.
Looking over, Jefferson noticed me lazily playing with my clit.
“Would you like to join us?”
I smiled and nodded, setting my bourbon glass down. As I crawled onto the bed, Jefferson moved his attentions from Luxx to me. He fucked me while he kissed Luxx, but Luxx and I had yet to actually touch each other.
Our fucking reached one of those natural breaks and as we lay there Luxx reiterated her need to get home.
But then, almost shyly, she said: “I wanna kiss Anna before I go.”
I had a feeling that her shyness was merely an act—or at least a carefully cultivated aspect of her personality.
I was sitting, she was lying, and I leaned over to kiss her, my hair hanging down across her face.
Our kiss was tentative at first, but quickly grew in intensity. Within a minute we were stretched out on the bed, our limbs wrapped around one another.
We quickly forgot about Jefferson; his presence was no longer strictly necessary.
I held Luxx tightly against my body. One of my thighs was pressed firmly between her legs, and one of her thighs was pressed firmly between mine. I ground my clit against her and she rubbed her clit against me in a slight up and down motion. I was vaguely aware of the spiky end of the barbell in her clit hood pushing into the flesh of my leg.
We came together, her yelps and screams mingling with my moans.
We continued to hold each other as our orgasms subsided, and our breathing slowed.
I’m not sure which one of us started it, but soon we were laughing hysterically. Maybe it was post-orgasmic bliss, maybe it was the absurdity of the circumstances of our meeting, or maybe it was the result of pure exhaustion. In any case, I was happy. I was where I belonged.
Jefferson re-joined us for awhile and several orgasms later Luxx finally pulled on her skirt, fastened her heavy belt, and left for home.
When she was gone Jefferson told me that that had been their first date, and in fact, it had been her first time with a man in years. The next day Luxx emailed Jefferson and we found out that it had been her first threesome as well.
The firsts for the weekend were far from over, however.
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