i'm not the kind of girl to get messed up with you.

from the minute steve* walked into the party, i knew i would fuck him before the night ended. it started off decently enough; beer pong teammates, high fives, boob jokes. i made myself out to be the slampiece we all know i am.
as the night progressed, the desires became clearer and clearer to everyone else. jen* and whatshisnuts left and i made my move.
"wanna go outside?" i asked him.
"why go outside when there's a basement?"
"let's talk," i said, low.
"i'll follow you out," he said.
i waited on the deck, holding and sipping my twisted tea with raspberry vodka mixed in. i saw him coming closer to the door to the stairs. my drunk ass sipped a little more.
"what's up?" we asked simultaneously.
we chatted idly for a minute or two; after making it clear we were both interested in one thing (see: his dick, my mouth) and swearing we "never fuck people we just met," i grew the balls to invite him to the basement. someone was sleeping on the bed downstairs; to the bathroom it was.
he grabbed my wondertits and he let me knew his dick was out for the taking. after a few excited moans i assumed the dick sucking position; we continued with that until he asked to bend me over.
"i thought you didn't fuck girls you just met?" i joked.
"yeah, but i'm drunk," he laughed.
i bent over the sink and he pounded that pussy like it was his job.
the walk of shame arouse and i had zero shame; steve was hotter than anyone i'd ever seen in my life. he had the entire sexy lumberjack look going on and there was no way he wouldn't wanna fuck me, and he fucked me; he fucked me good and that was that. i told him to text me for a good time, and like that it was over.

til next drunken time...
-mata hari


*names have been changed


ps, thank god for spell check.

it figures.

the one person at my job with jumper cables WOULD be the one guy at my job i've hooked up with.


awkward moments define my life.

xox

oh man.

dry spell sucks. i miss sex in ways i can't even describe.
at least i still have russell the love muscle ;)

xox

off-topic, but no one cares, i'm sure.

i got this off of the near sighted owl's blog. looked like a fun idea and a good way to kill some time while i stay up all night since i have work at 5 AM :(

A. Age: 22
B. Bed size: a twin, so the magic rarely happens here.
C. Chore that you hate: cleaning my room, i am such a slob
D. Dogs: none, but i have two precious kitties! :)
E. Essential start to your day: when i have to be in work at 5 AM, it's a quad venti iced caramel macchiato with sugar free vanilla syrup and extra caramel, a bowl to smoke, and a cigarette. food rarely ever makes the cut on the list of important things.
F. Favorite color: not quite lime green, not quite pea green. a really awkward medium. close second is purple because i look great in it.
G. Gold or Silver: silver, but i much prefer that bronzey-silver-gold color. so cute.
H. Height: 5'4"
I. Instruments you play: the skin flute :-P
J. Job title: barista
K. Kids: two baby kitties :)
L. Live: maryland
M. Mother’s name: connie
N. Nicknames: mata hari
O. Overnight hospital stays: like one or two, i'm not sure.
P. Pet peeves: guys who don't manscape.
Q. Quote from a movie: "they killed killer, B!" - half baked
R. Right or left handed: righty tighty ;)
S. Siblings: older brother, younger sister, younger brother.
T. Time you wake up:  for work? 4 AM, otherwise i wake up whenever the fuck my drug-induced coma allows.
U. Underwear: totally optional.
V. Vegetable you hate: mostly all of them, save for potatoes, corn, and carrots.
W. What makes you run late: my alarm not waking me up or getting stuck behind a hick driving a tractor... or fucking school buses.
X. X-Rays you’ve had: my hand, my teeth, probably my foot, my knee
Y. Yummy food that you make: i make cookies on a total baller status level.
Z. Zoo animal: elephants!

maybe i'm a hypocrite. just maybe.

i think the reason i cry, more often than not, is the fact that i am a raging jealous bitch. living the lifestyle i live is great, it's wonderful, it's fun, and it's what i think i need right now. THINK.
and then there's the other part of me that looks on everyone's facebook and sees pictures of their husbands and their kids, and then i just become so overwhelmed that i can literally do nothing but cry and feel sorry for myself. is it wrong to want a husband and a family that much? i feel like, mine sucks. there should be nothing stopping me at the age of 22 from starting one of my own, except i'm either not good enough for anyone or my standards are too high. although, considering the astronomical amount of males i have gotten to experience throughout the last few years of my life, and the levels of bullshit and douchebaggery i have had to put up with, i feel like if anyone in the world is allowed to have ridiculously high standards, it's me. man, either i'm really high so i'm over-analyzing all of this and making realizations that really mean nothing, OR this actually is a fucked up, vicious little cycle i've gotten myself into, isn't it?
lots of sex < lots of bad experiences < super high standards < alone
man, fuck my life.

i don't even know what i want anymore.

-MH

who'd have thought...

i have had sex with not quite countless people. i say that it's not quite a countless number because, well, if i was sober and i really tried i could probably figure it out. but the funny thing about life is that... no one ever tells you that promiscuous sex and extravagant drug use go hand in hand.

i have been called many things in my time. the funny thing is about that though, is that most of the things i've been called don't involve the one thing i really deserve to be called - a slut, or whatever your preferred variation of the word is. i guess it's because i don't parade my slut level around and expect the world to be okay with it. when i walk past you in public, you don't get a big whiff of cheap whore and my boobs are only clearly visible and hanging out when the occasion is right, and that is NOT very often.

i don't have daddy issues and i wasn't raped as a kid, so the stereotypical misconceptions as to why i fuck without regard to any of the outside factors don't apply here. i don't know why i like being a whore, to be honest. i think part of me loves my lifestyle for the sheer fact that i am the most unsuspectingly whoreish person i've ever met. i have probably sucked more dicks than your parents have lived years. but the difference is that, your parents probably remember at least one thing about each year they've lived. and i probably couldn't tell you one fact about each dick that has entered any holes in my body. i'm okay with this.

the trade-off i've found, though, for living a fun lifestyle is this: while it's rare i get into a bed alone, it's terribly common to wake up alone. 22 years of life and thousands of orgasms later, i've yet to feel what love is like. more importantly, i've yet to feel what having a boyfriend is like. i get lonely, of course. but i'm the kind of person who will want something (aka someone) and as soon as i get it, i want nothing to do with it anymore. a good percentage of the guys i've fucked have never gotten to even see me after; i call the shots, and when the chase is over, i'm calling the shot to be rid of you. i have crushes, sure, and i fall for people and hope to be with them much like anyone else. however, my whore nature takes over way too early in the delicate beginning stages all too often, and me and my vagina are considered to be rude, pushy, and demanding.

anyway, i decided that since we all do it - we all fuck, some more than others - someone somewhere is bound to find my stories interesting, to say the least.

until next time,
-mata hari