Please stop calling me. If you persist, I will not be held responsible for what I will do. That will entail stringing you along for the next two or three months, using you as a substitute for Victor.
You don’t want it. Hell, I don’t want it. So stop now. Please understand that when I say I am in love with someone, I really mean it. Saturday’s lunch was great. Thank you. You should’ve let me paid my bit. And good god, you should stop being so very homophobic. It isn’t endearing.
The outfit told me you tried too hard to impress. A more liberal way of thinking would’ve impressed me.
Do you want to know why I always sound miffed when you phone me? Because it’s you, not Victor who’s calling me. That’s why. Yes, it’s a terrible excuse, but I want to be honest with you.
See, I just can’t see myself with you. It’s not your lack of a job (though it certainly does not count in your favour); it’s about your attitude towards some things. The homosexual sex thing just clinched the deal for me. Surely two consenting adults are allowed to do whatever they want to? As long as it does not involve small children or animals, I’m quite happy for them to explore their sexuality.
Oh, and the reading thing. If you want to get into my pants, you’d have to learn to do better than tell me you find reading boring.
You’re a very attractive guy. I’ll admit that. And you’re rather smart, or else I would not enjoy talking to you as much as I did. But that’s about it. Oh, and you’re a great dancer. lol.
But yeah. You’re too needy. Which is funny, because I’m like that with Victor. You should’ve seen me on Friday night. 😉 It wasn’t a pretty sight. Funny, yes, certainly. Pretty? Nope.
So, anyway. This is it. No more. I have made a pledge to myself that I will not indulge in gratuitous sex any longer. And that’s all you will really be. A pretty boy with nice lips.
About two months ago I wrote a post How do I know if I’ve had an orgasm?
I still don’t know if I’ve ever had one. Friends tell me what I’m experiencing, is what happens before an orgasm, and not the actual thing. Books describe it as the actual thing.
So, I’m confused. It’s only when I’m relaxed enough, that I can really enjoy getting licked. I used to have serious body issues in the past, so it was hard to believe someone actually want to eat me out.
It’s still embarrassing to talk about. Imagine what it’s like sitting in conversation with your girlfriends, talking about sex and orgasms, and them almost expecting you to share your experiences. And being too embarrassed to.
It’s even worse for me, because my friends see me as a highly sexual being. I’m loud and proud and they automatically think I know what I’m doing. In life, in love and in bed. While I’m not bad in bed (I do my share, and more), I feel inferior. Slightly. And I wonder why my friends think I’m such a dynamite in bed.
That person doesn’t exist. That’s the Tarah who is living in New York, the Big Apple. That Tarah is a freelance writer and submits articles to The New York Times. She attends art exhibitions in her Jimmy Choo’s; she has no problem getting an orgasm; she is engaged to a wonderful man who is probably an Art Professor at some fancy university; she deposits $1,000 into her mom’s account every single month.
I’m not her. We’re different. We live in different universes.
What happens then? The best feeling I’ve ever had, was an involuntary twitch in my legs. It happens when I’m very, very, very aroused and sometimes with the help of a vibrator. The first time I got this feeling, was with Victor. I couldn’t believe it. Finally, something happens. I was so glad to experience anything at all, so glad that I might be normal, after all.
And I’m not the only one. People find me mostly through searches such as the following:
- how do women know when they cum
- female orgasm
- how do you know if your cumming?
- how do i know when ive cum
My guess is that some of these searches are done by women. So if you’re reading this, I’m sorry that I don’t have the answers. I’m also just searching, just like you. Searching, hoping, panicking that I’m abnormal, but mostly hoping that someday, something will just click and I’ll be happy. Or happy(ish).
My first LV
Well, it isn’t the LV I was coveting, but it’s a pretty good replacement. I used it for the first time to take out small change for the taxi – R4.50, and felt trés rich. And then I had coffee at the deli down the road.
Valerie Solanas got it all wrong. Men aren’t S.C.U.M. LOL
I think this is my new baby, and she’s going to sleep next to me tonight. He he he he
Got this yesterday… Haven’t had time to watch it yet. Thank you. 😉
I lied to SA Succubus this morning. She wanted to know how the balcony sex was this past weekend. Somehow, to my mind, sex still equal penetrative sex. I blame my puritanical upbringing for that. Sex could really be anything that involves two naked – or not so naked – consenting people. This includes blow jobs and hand jobs, both of which happened on my balcony Saturday night.
It wasn’t my first time having a go at balcony sex. I’ve done it before. It was his, though. Oy. He’s so damn conservative, but I shall break him in!
Yesterday me and Victor had a go at something very new: we did it in front of the mirror! WOW. WOW. WOW. WOW. WOW.
Sorry, I almost got carried away! I’m rather chubby, so didn’t think it will look very hot, watching myself in the mirror. I wasn’t expecting anything; just two people … er … fucking.
It was beautiful. Really, it was. I found a new appreciation for my body. Normally I look into the mirror and see an unshapely 25-year-old girl; yesterday I looked into the mirror and saw a fabulous, sexy 25-year-old with a great body. Fine, I saw myself, and I thought: “Hmmm, not too shabby, doll.”
Never mind how it turned me on looking at us… Good lord, it turns me on now, just thinking about it. Eish, I should stop.
I should have done this looooong ago. It almost feel as though you’re watching someone else. This “technique” should not be used every single time … I will use it rather sparingly and supplement it with some more tips from my little book of sexual advice I picked up at the recent Exclusive Books sale.
While lying in bed on Sunday morning, I read about a sex worker who got dismissed from the parlour she used to work at, who is now taking the case to the CCMA.
This article appeared on page five of the Sunday Times.
If only she had a better case, she might make SA history at the CCMA (insert link to CCMA). Her case is not water tight. She was a bad worker, or so it seems from the article. But if she wins (though it is unlikely) she may cause a precedent and all of us may need to rethink our attitude towards prostitution. Fuck. Methinks we all need to rethink our attitude towards prostitution in any event. Not just because she might win…
As many of you can imagine, I don’t have a problem with prostitution. Or with porn. Hell, I love certain types of porn! Just please don’t show me pictures of girls with big, cheesy smiles on their faces after they got ejaculated on – in their faces. That I don’t buy. Prostitutes are just trying to get by. Provide for themselves, provide for their families, put themselves through college and buy some nice Jimmy’s. The image of the glamour prostitute is a far cry from the reality. Yes, there are some pretty girls, but they work long hours, and often for no reward.
So anyway. Back to Kylie. She was a prostitute for 22 years and disliked giving blowjobs, was selective in her choice of clients, used drugs on the premises and spent too much time with her boyfriend in her room. The owner then asked her to “…find alternative accommodation.” She took the case to the CCMA but they declined to assist her because prostitution is illegal. A certain Jennifer Williams from the Women’s Legal Centre mentions that excluding sex workers from being protected by the Labour Relations Act discriminates against women. I’m sure she meant to say it discriminates against sex workers of both genders; there are also many male sex workers. But I do agree with her.
Kylie took the case to the High Court and their decision should be heard later this week.
Of course, most of us have also heard of George Lekgetho’s statement that we should decriminalize prostitution, though his reasoning is slightly skewed. Just ever so slightly, because he thinks doing so will result in fewer rapes. I don’t really think it will achieve that, and even if it does, it should not be the only reason we decriminalize prostitution. Women are being raped for different reasons and not just because someone hasn’t had any in a while. Why then would someone rape a granny or a baby?
I read another opinion in the Weekender – it’s one of those no – name commentors – from someone who reckons the decriminalization of prostitution will not result in more prostitutes. Ha! I beg to differ. I think more girls will want to become a prostitute for that very reason. The money could be excellent, you will have proper working conditions, and you could do it on the side, very Belle du jour – like. Hell, I might even be up for it again.
But I’ll probably end up like Kylie, who decided who she’ll shag and lose my job. And what if Victor (or any of my exes) walks in? But I think it’ll say something about both of us: I’m willing to work as a prostitute, and he is willing to pay for one. Perfect couple, methinks.
There is something that has been bothering me for a while now. It’s this whole Valentine’s day thingy. It irks me because I would like to give Victor something nice but I’m not entirely sure if I should.
I’ve known the guy for a very short while only so it might not be appropriate. I wasn’t going to blog about this because I figured it’s not really worth my fretting over it. And then I read Life of a Valley Girl’s post this morning and I started to freak out!
I don’t think Victor is very into Valentine’s day, but that doesn’t mean that I’m not. Perhaps I should just tantalise him with some goodies I bought over the weekend. I’ll post the pictures tomorrow. It’s a skanky nurse outfit that I bought! And I’ll wear my skanky high heels, just because he told me on Sunday that he dislikes high heels.
Methinks I’ll strut before my big mirror and touch myself, not allowing him to touch me at all.
I even went as far as buying a doctor’s kit on Saturday. It was close to 5pm and we just returned from having lunch in town. So I told him I need to buy my niece a doctor’s kit and we need to go to Toys R Us before they close at 6pm.
We had a nice stroll to the store and when we got there, he told me it’s the first time he had ever gone … and then he broke off, blushing. I can just guess it was the first time he had ever gone inside a toy store with a girlfriend, or someone who could be described as a girlfriend. I’m not his girlfriend yet, though. Why are men so reluctant to make up their minds?
So anyway. We had a lovely time at Toys R Us and I got the doctor’s kit. I’ll only use the stethoscope in conjunction with the rest of the goodies I got. At some stage – we were sitting in Sea Point – I offered opening up the package so that we can play doctor-doctor with it. Hmmm. He didn’t seem very keen. I wonder if he’s a bit conservative?
He hasn’t done any kinky stuff. Compared to him, I sound like a Playboy bunny! Well, I hope I can bring him around still. He’s young so I have lots of time!
And what better way to spend Valentine’s day?
This post is not meant to be read by men. You may recoil in disgust; you may feel offended; you may feel slightly insecure, and that is something I would not wish upon you. No, I’m not a hate-spewing misogynist, I actually really like men. I don’t even call them penis creatures, like some of my friends do. Fine, then, I do sometimes, on the rather rare occasion, call them such names, but I make up for it by my intense love of all penis creatures. Oops, I didn’t mean to, I swear!
Anyway. I am a self-confessed SATC addict. There is one episode in particular that I have been watching non-stop for a couple of weeks: Ex and the City. This is where Samantha hooks up with a very well-endowed gentleman. And decides he’s too much to handle. Why do I mention this? Well, Victor is rather… um .. well-endowed. So much so that it is sometimes difficult to have sex. Now, we have not had much sex. Sometimes it’s rather nice not to, and just to cuddle. Eish, we must be getting old, hey?
I’ve never been with anyone as big as him. It doesn’t hurt, so that’s not what is makes me uncomfortable. It’s just that there is so much of it! And most positions do not do much for me… this is sad. Most of my normal positions that I like, do nothing for him.
I was trawling the internet as much as I could these last two weeks, just to find anything that’ll give me some ideas on how to handle his … um, goods. There is really not much, hey? But then again, I’m mostly at work when I access the interwebs. Perhaps I should use his laptop next time and try to find something.
But that’ll mean he’ll know that I’m slightly intimidated by his goodies. Eeeek. I just can’t win!
My mom was and is still pretty progressive for her age and her proclivity for going to church. She’s told me many times how she would have wanted to become an escort if she had been brave enough. She’s also in favour of abortion. However, when it came to discussing sex with her, I was always too shy. I figured I knew everything I had to know about it. She did, in fact, give me a proper schooling in what to do should a boy want to touch me there. I knew babies are nestled in their mommy’s womb. I knew one could get AIDS from unprotected sex. I was covered, or so I thought.
Our physical education teacher showed us a very gruesome video in which a woman was giving birth and they had to cut into her perineum. I could be wrong, of course, but I distinctly remember them cutting… that was the extent of our physical education on our bodies in high school, from what I can remember.
I didn’t have Biology in Standard eight and for most of Standard nine, so I can’t comment on what they were taught. When Science became too tough, I switched over to Biology, but that was in the final term of Standard nine.
I also never masturbated when I was growing up. Or, I thought I did. But I would just stroke the labia’s outer lips, never really venturing inside, to my clit.
I would sometimes watch Blue movies and get turned on, but not know what to do with myself and I didn’t know where in my body I’m turned on.
Why do we neglect the clit so very much? Yes, I knew I had one, but I never knew that the clit is responsible only for intense pleasure. I never knew where to locate it. In fact, I never really saw mine until some months ago. I know, it’s sad. I was … ashamed, I think. I thought it looks slightly off-putting, never mind that all men love it. But I’m not alone! There are many, many other women who don’t masturbate. We don’t necessarily think it is a shameful deed; some of us could just not be bothered, and we’ve got boyfriends who insist on going down on us, so why should we look down there?
I read an amazing book at my local bookstore last night: I heart female orgasm. That book once again confirmed most of what I’ve read on the female orgasm: not everyone is sure they’ve had one; you don’t necessarily know that you’ve had one and not everyone’s orgasm is as strong as they are in the movies.
Goes to show, hey? Don’t believe everything you see on YouTube. It seems many women call their orgasms Mini-O’s because they think “Surely this can’t be it?” They then carry on for however long, thinking that one day, they’ll hit the big O, when actually, they already have.
Scary? Ask your girlfriend honestly if she’s ever had an orgasm. It isn’t as straight-forward as it may seem.
What’s the best way to know? Surely it’s not as straight-forward as just knowing? Is there a check-list for people like myself?