Last and most successful attempt at the sex-with-stranger campaign. My swift persistence and unwavering, relentlessness to have rebound sex has paid off, finally. Though, part of me believes it might have had something to do with the bar I ended up at.

Apparently, my signal for coitus to the totally unexpected male was one long lick to his check (face not ass). I was notified of this later. Well, its a good thing that I am still my classy self.

I could chalk this up to the worst sex ever had. Most lame, most uncoordinated, most uneventful. But like most things, once started, you chug along to see where it will end up. In this case, no where special.

The largest problem that occured was his dick. As in not large, but more as in so small. He squealed like a little girl, and spilled his warm cottage cheese on my belly, after a few affirmations to god. Where did men learn to have sex? By which of the hole in the dry wall? Fucking your hand for 15 years? I think I would have gotten off sooner if someone cunt punched me.

There are three kinds of sex.

One, you meet, you fuck and it blows both your minds (this was obviously the kind that I was looking for).

Two, terrible sex (the kind I just had). Where you can’t seem to get into the groove because the other individual believes it is hot, and moisture inspiring to rub his balls all over my forehead.

And lastly the third kind. Which I believe is the kind I had with my ex the first time. Doggy style in my parents laundry room. After a few slick moves, we got busted by my mom. Him standing there at half mast, and me losing my balance knocking over a shelf full of detergent and finally landing ass first into the kitty litter.

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