I am a lesbian who driven in her carreer, and in other aspects of life. My sexual interests tend to fluctuate in relation to my partners interests.
Welcome to the Frisky “Sex Diary,” in which an anonymous person shares the details of her sex life over the course of a few days. Email [email protected] All entries will be anonymous. He asks for pictures, which I refuse because, hey, you never know where that stuff’s going to end up, right? I’ve had suggestive conversations about likes and dislikes, and I’ve done (more than) my share of flirting, but I’ve never really gone “all the way.” At first I’m kind of awkward, blushing while I type and thinking, “Oh my God, I can’t believe I just said that” every time I hit “send.” After about 10 minutes, though, I kind of get into it. I say dirtier stuff to this Internet Hottie than I’ve ever said to any guy in person. Monday Night: Internet Hottie proves to be a fantastic distraction from my recent breakup. He’s been at a friend’s house since he got off work, goofing off, so he shows up in sweat pants and a T-shirt. A tight T-shirt gets me every time if the guy’s remotely built. Tall, but not too tall, blond hair, blue eyes, glasses …
Sometimes these entries are filled with revealing romps, while other times there is nary a naked moment in sight. Diarist: A 22-year-old college grad, still working in retail because “I picked a Liberal Arts major.” Sunday Night: I got dumped recently. If I saw him at a bar, I would never think I had a shot with someone that tall, blond, and well-built, but online he approaches me. Then he asks if I wanted to have a “discussion” about sex. Of course, this also means I spend most of the day kind of turned on. I give him my usual line about how he could be a serial killer and I need to meet him in a public place first. the kind of guy who, had I seen him at a bar, I would have been too intimidated to flirt with beyond a long glance and maybe a smile. He seems intelligent, funny, and with a streak of dorkiness that puts me at ease fairly quickly.
Her name is Debbie, and she leans to the submissive side.
Please check her profile, then contact me to arrange her services.
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That’s a lot I do not pour, but in general it has not climbed.
Settle down somewhere after midnight, the Pakistanis have gone tipsy, lived somewhere nearby, shot a 4-room apartment close (to live bourgeoisie! The next morning brought together go to the country, and I barely opened his eyes.
We met in an AOL chatroom in the “Friends” category, bonding over a shared interest in baseball and the inspiration for his screenname; I’d impressed him by referencing the lyrics to “Don’t Eat the Yellow Snow.” Every day (except Monday and Wednesday, when I had Hebrew school), between pm and pm, I’d grab the Compaq laptop from my parents’ room, zip past my babysitter watching General Hospital, and log onto AOL to see if Frank Zappy was on my buddy list.