Random Moments – My First Orgasm

first timeLong before I knew what masturbation was – or sex, particularly how bodies operate and what goes inside what – I had already watched porn. I remember being four or five-years-old and going to a neighbor’s house because she had “the jiggly channel”…aka the Playboy channel. I’d come over to her house. A lot. A whole damn lot. Back then it had its own dedicated channel, not a shared channel that was only watchable after 10 p.m. My friend was another little girl, who probably didn’t have the same infatuation as I did in watching the jiggly channel. And I didn’t realized just how infatuated I was until one day she wasn’t home. I remember being really pissed, in the way a four-year-old can get pissed. I probably pulled the heads of my Barbies or threw my Dr. Seuss books on the ground. I mean, how else was I going to get my fix of seeing boobs and vaginas? Dicks not so much, gross. I wanted to see a vagina “in action.”

When I got older – maybe 10 or so – I got a TV in my room, and I discovered the long lost jiggly channel. Fuck yah. It was scrambled of course, but I had a great imagination. However, I was too scared to watch it because my parents’ room was right across from mine.

I had an issue of Cosmo and a Frederick’s of Hollywood catalog. I know! Next best thing, right?! If you don’t know Frederick’s of Hollywood, think Victoria’s Secret meets Spencer’s – raunchier, racier, and 1980s’er. In the back of the Cosmo were ads and lingerie you can order; and Frederick’s…well, that just goes without saying. Lots of nipples and chicks giving the “come hither” look. It wasn’t live action pussy-eating, but it would have to do. I flipped through Frederick’s and was instantly turned on by the lace-covered nipples. At that age, I wasn’t sure if I wanted have big tits or if I wanted to touch them. Probably the latter.

This was about the time I remember touching myself over my panties for the first time and it kind of feeling good. I remember circling my lips and finding a spot (my clitoris) that was super sensitive. I focused on this area and rubbed to the left, right, and around it. My body got warm and my heart rate increased. A slow and steady feeling began to swell in me and I didn’t know what was going on; all I knew is that it felt good and that I had to keep going and that it would get better. Finally, I felt the first twitch, like I was holding my pee, and it came in such a rapid succession that I couldn’t stop it if I could.

I was 11-years-old when I orgasmed for the first time. How do I remember this? Because I remember what was on my mind at the time of climax: a girl in my 7th grade English class. Did I fantasize about her, or kissing her, or wondering what she looked like under her shirt? Never. I can say without a doubt that when that first flood of twitching in my vagina first hit, I thought about her. What’s weird is that it wasn’t a sexual thought. It was more like, “I wonder if she did her homework last night?” It was probably a stream-of-consciousness thought that was more coincidence that fantasy. But the bottom line is: my only memory of my first orgasm was not the thought of bodies humping or two chicks eating each other out, but a girl who sat next to me in middle school.

I remember being very private about masturbation, never telling my friends, asking if they did it too. It just never came up. No one had ever seen me masturbate before until I met Ryan. I never felt close enough to anyone to let myself be seen that way. I felt I would be too embarrassed to be seen in such a vulnerable position. Even when Ryan and I masturbated mutually (not separately, but together) it was a new feeling to me. I had to get used to not feeling judged.  These days, I could pull up my skirt in the middle of a crowded theater and masturbate for Ryan if we wanted.  The comfort level and bubble has left me oblivious of my surroundings.  I also am not longer ashamed that I masturbate and enjoy cuddling with Ryan at night and still touching myself to relax and fall asleep.

Random Thoughts: Marriage, Shallow Thoughts, Pussy Boyfriends, & Fat Cocks

pussy boyfriendsI’ve been with Ryan a long time. A really long time. Maybe not to some who are in their 80s, but in comparison to the number of years I’ve been alive. I started thinking about how I never wanted to get married. I’m not sure if it was because it was easier to not work at being in a real relationship and just do whatever the fuck you want, or if it was because I just never found the right person to challenge me at being a good girlfriend. Fortunately, and please excuse the cornball analogy, Ryan has thrown down the gauntlet and accepted the challenge. pussy boyfriends

I really don’t think that simply having parents who are still married has much influence on the type of relationship I choose to have or be in. Instead, I think it has a lot to do more with psychological issues and not just values and upbringing. Because although my parents are still married, and like every child in a two-parent household, I’ve seen them go through rough times. There’s nothing special about them – they weren’t high school sweethearts, they weren’t lovey, and they weren’t role model parents/spouses. But I like to think the household and family they created conceived the perfect me, Venice Bloggs, the same person to whom Ryan has promised his soul and loyalty. So I’ll never complain about my upbringing and everything because why? I’m perfect (for Ryan), and what is flawed and cause for break-up in other relationships, he embraces them and lovingly refers to them as my own delicious personality traits. pussy boyfriends

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Random Moments: Double You Tee Eff

crawling on truckSo sometimes I get messages from different people that view local profiles I have on social media. Almost always from men pretending to be women, but sometimes I do get messages from actual girls (I think). Whether it be close ups of their unshaved vaginas or some random ass shot, I tend to giggle and move on with my day. If it’s something pleasant and appropriate, of course I respond, I’m always looking for a nice girl to play with.

So this morning I get this photo, along with the message:

Hi, just saw your profile and I would like to chat with you and see if maybe we click ….I am white 36 yrs old 5′ 145 ….let me know what you think.

I’m not going to be too critical because I mean, who wouldn’t want to make this type of first impression? At least it’s not a vagina close up or a picture of her ass cropped so nothing else shows. Before I replied I carefully thought about how I should respond to her.  These are the various thoughts that crossed my mind:

I think the soles of your old shoes look lovely. Are those the Nike shocks? They kind of make your feet look big, but I bet you have great balance!  Your jeans look nice, with the designer pockets and all.  I bet when you crawled off the hood of your truck the knees were stained green with pollen dust huh? Sorry, I noticed the leaf on the grill of your truck and figured it was allergy season when you took that photo.  

With that being said, I mean, I suppose I’d love to go model cars with her at a flea market car show maybe? Who knows.

My actual response:

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Dear 11-Year-Old Ryan

Dear 11-year-old Ryan,

My name is Venice and I’m writing to you from the future. In case you don’t believe me let me say a few things. You’re allergic to mushrooms, you have a turtle shaped birthmark on your shoulder, and you get up five minutes early every morning to put your sheets in the hamper because of a certain kind of “accident.” Just kidding about that last one…no I’m not!!! We won’t meet for a few years, but I have a few things to tell you before we do. I’m writing to you as your wife of over 15 years. I know that must answer a few questions like, “Will I ever live to see 30?” “Will I ever get married?” The answer is yes and yes! I don’t really want to ruin your future too much, but as a 11 year old boy, what could I possibly talk about that you’d be interested in?

Okay, let’s talk about your future girlfriends.

In a few months you will have your first kiss.  You will be followed around the skating ring by a cute girl, and eventually, at the end of the night, kiss her. The next week you will find out she talked to another boy and when she walks up to you to give you a hug, you will scoot her out of the way without saying a word. In fact, you never talked to her again.

lexi1In the 7th grade, an Indian girl will have a crush on you. She and her friend will call your house and ask you why you are so mean to her or why you don’t like her, and even write letters saying the same. You will think she is very cute, but to everyone else in class she is seen as very clumsy.  Sadly, you will think she is nice and pretty, but because of race and because of her being known to be clumsy, you would rather be single than deal with your classmates wondering why you would date someone like her. You will never date her. At Christmas she will give everyone in class a lollipop and a small note. Your note will be super long. After you read the first few lines, you will ask your friend to see his note and it will be like, “It’s a good time to be happy!” (end note). You letter will start, “All year I really have been nice to you and don’t understand what I did to make you so… ” You will stop there and throw the note in the garbage. Don’t feel bad. You’re not the only one who has missed an opportunity to be happy because of peer pressure. Like the time when you were 4 and you had a crush on your neighbor, the one who everyone said you were boyfriend & girlfriend with. mudYes, I know about that 🙂 I know that you played together every day and made mud pies, but after everyone teased you, you were purposely mean to her because you’d rather be “single” and not make mud pies than be teased for having a girlfriend. You really liked her but society made you hate her. I had a friend just like that when I was your age who I played with every day, got teased the same way too. And, like you, I was purposely mean. But what I did was knock him down as he was sitting on the trunk of his parents’ car and made him land on the car hitch. I walked away as he stood crying. Anyway, you will end up marrying a very dark Filipino woman to make up for your racism. You and I are cut from the same cloth, which is probably why we are drawn to each other.

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Random Moments – I Left My Phone At The Bank (Lost Phone)

phone shockOkay, so I left my phone at the bank. Let me translate.  I lost my homemade porn storage device at a place where there are 5 nosy women just looking for something to do. I think losing my phone may be in my personal top 5 of my biggest fears.  Forget my credit cards, forget my cash, I just do not want to lose my mobile smut machine.

Speaking of my smut machine, it may be time to send this machine to the mechanic (trashcan) for an upgrade.  For weeks now my phone has been messing up.  After I am done using my phone and lay it down, later when I pick it up it is still on (the screen is just black), or the power is totally dead.   I also noticed that there is no lock screen when this happens.  If I turn the phone back on, it will be on exactly what I  was looking at last without a lock screen.

With that being said, I had to run to the bank and get into a safe security box for work.  Before I left, I may have been glancing at twitter.  Don’t ask me why I look at smut on twitter at work in the middle of the day, because usually I don’t.   However, if I publish a blog I will check out twitter to make sure my blog published or see who commented.  Every now and then I will see some random *.gif tweeted that I will click, just to get a closer look.  I call it:  pussy click bait.  I’m a man, I can’t help it.

So I ran into the bank and showed my identification, which is in my phone case.  I got in and out quick and got what I needed. About 2 hours later I got a call at my office from a clerk at the bank.  When I picked up the line she said, “Hello Ryan, did you forget something?”

I responded, “What, my keys?”  I had no idea why I said that because I couldn’t have drove back to work without my keys.   I just really had no idea why she was calling.

She laughed and said, “Are you missing your wallet?”

Fuck, my wallet.  Otherwise known as my fucking phone. Otherwise known as if you click the gallery icon you end up seeing about 50 cock pics of myself, in various random positions that Venice requests during the day, face showing, smiling, and looking like a total toolbag.  You’d also see about 500 various shots of Venice and her vagina, face, titties, ass, whatever.  That “wallet” is my porn stash.

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