Monday, June 1, 2009

The Sex Life & Times of Ellie Maybe

My hormones were raging at the dawn of the internet
Watching porn on a PC my mom couldn't control yet
Cybersex wasn't great, but it did pass the time
And put all kinds of thoughts in my pubescent mind
I was the queen of the dorks with no friends in school
But in my role-playing game I was sexy and cool
Dungeons and Dragons be damned, this shit was text-based
I was an elf with a rack and blonde hair and a mace
Met a mage in the game with wisdom (plus five)
In my twelve years on this earth I'd never felt so alive!
We courted in bracketed actions in chat
Until the day he showed up in a cowboy hat
Ugly as sin in real life, it turned out
(Remember, this is before scanners were around)
But teenagers did as teenagers do
He stuck it in and I sat it through
I disposed of the rubber beneath my bed
To be discovered weeks later by our Basset Hound, Fred
Some years down the line begging change up on Clark
I met this short little fuck whose skin was so dark
That boy was a jerk, though at first he seemed sweet
Put his dick in my ass; couldn't sit for a week
With that having failed, I started anew
With a few more bruises and a new trick or two
Then came the time where I turned seventeen
Got my first fake ID and I hit up the scene
I met this dear soul: a deejay, a hottie
He fucked me real well and then vanished without me

My heart broke apart in post-pubescent pieces
Yet the hormones filled each crevisse, all the cracks and the creases
I moved on like a champ and made lots of new friends
With whom I spent one night and never saw again

Despite all my conquests, I was so fucking broke
Getting laid, getting drunk, my goals were a joke
I went home with anything that might buy me a drink
Or leave their blow unattended by the bathroom sink

Spreading my legs was a skill, not a chore
It's pretty apparent I was an exceptional whore
So one day I came down off my high and my pedestal
I swallowed my pride and a cocktail with Advil

I checked out the paper, found an ad that seemed promising
"Classy ladies only," it must have been calling me
Classy I'm not but easy I can be
I'll be damned if I can't make a buck off my pussy

So I got me a job and I worked for a bit
Sucking dick, getting fucked, by old fat sacks of shit
As one might imagine, the novelty wore through
Though I had the cash to pay for things like rent and coke and food

It was taxing in the end and I finally had to jet
For an even worse reason than previously expressed
See, I'd found a boyfriend who disapproved of my job
Though years later I'd find him surfing classy ladies dot com

He was weak and a weirdo, what a terrible lay
But he treated me like crap, so he was there to stay
He ignored me and left me to abort his fetus
I suppose my womb was fair game as a prostitute reject

He wouldn't take my calls or see me in public
So of course, I fell harder, a glutton for punishment
It took nearly three years before that trickled off
My heart, sure it hurt, but his dick had gone soft

He was a passionate phony and a shell of a man
So I got back my confidence with his best friend
In the meantime I'd gone to get tattooed
By a guy so fucked up that he prayed in the nude

He was abusive, aggressive, but would you believe it
It turned out that that was just what I needed
He pulled my hair, slapped my face, threw me out at 4 A.M.
So I slashed his tires, fucked his wife and now we're good friends

As one might expect, I moved on pretty quick
To a movie director with a fat little dick
I mean this thing looked like a frog - so short and so wide
And the son of a bitch wouldn't put it inside

I got two months in before I just gave up
I like getting licked but I'd rather get fucked
This started a pattern of fooling around
With a handful of men who just wouldn't get down

One of whom I found oh-so-sexy
A little bit chubby, a little bit messy
Mysterious and strange and sweaty and sweet
This one for sure was coming home with me

But no, he's an idiot, he doesn't take hints
He'd rather talk music and weather and gin
I asked him one night to stay out for a drink
And what did that silly little man think -

A drink is a drink and he's already drunk
You goddamn fool, I just want to get fucked
Well, I got what I wanted, it just took a few weeks
The best sex of my life and plenty for me!

I suppose I've calmed down now, after all why bother
To run with the tramps who all play one another
When the dick that I need is right by my side
And this one is hanging on for the ride

Over the years, I've had some trials and tribulations
I've caused breakups and barfights and ejaculations
And sure, there are a dozen or five I've left out
But the value is in how it all came about

As a whore and a drunk I've made myself quite a name
Banned from clubs, banned from men, banned from some baseball games
It hasn't been easy being the community slut
Nor digging myself out of that little rut

But in the end, it is true, my regrets, they are small
'Tis better to have fucked a lot than to never have fucked at all


Hi. I'm Jill, and I'm here to talk about eating pussy.
So I'm a girl, and I like to have my pussy licked. I understand some women don't, but that's not my problem. My problem is that pussy licking is a delicate thing. Firstly, it's a skill that not many individuals take the time to master. And ironically, as a direct result of this, if done wrong it can be a very awkward and somewhat unpleasant experience.
Kinda like baking a souffle. If you don't get the exact measurements right and bake it at the exactly correct temperature and beat in the exact amount of air, it won't poof. And all you’re left with is a flat, dry muffin. Yes, cunnillingus is JUST like that.
And then you're left laying there only a couple options: Do I try to tell him what to do, being gentle enough with your words and your tone so as not to bruise his ego, yet direct enough with your message to get the job done? Do I fake it? Ugh, I HATE faking it and use that only as an absolute last resort. Either way, the scenario usually doesn't end how you'd like it to.
Now I know what you're thinking, guys. And yes, you’re right, there IS such a thing as a bad blowjob. But come on. Admit it. The secret to giving a good BJ is pretty much step one, step two, repeat. Consistency, the right amount of pressure, lots of wet, and you're good to go. Easy.
But vaginas are just SO much more complicated. They all can look so different from each other, there are all these folds and different clit sizes and lip sizes and frankly it takes awhile to figure your way around one specific pussy.
So I happened to be going through this period of really bad luck with oral sex-givers. There was The Variety Pack Guy, who would do like twenty different things with his tongue. Right when it was starting to feel good, he'd switch to the Tongue Jack Hammer or Circles! or the Flopping Fish Tail and I'd lose my concentration. Because as we all know, guys have to concentrate to not cum, while girls have to concentrate to cum. All that variety was distracting and frankly annoying. Then there were a couple of those guys who will take their fingers and spread your lips as far apart as possible and hold it open the whole time with both hands and just use the very tip of his tongue on your clit.
Like you're at a doctor's appointment and the technicians have opened you up to get a good look at what's under the hood. Let me tell you, nothing makes a girl feel sexier than that.
Like he's a guest host on Bizarre Foods with Andrew Zimmerman, and my pussy is some kind of pig intestine salad from Tanzania or something. You wanna try it, but you're also kinda disgusted. I don’t want to look down at you and think, “Oh God, he’s eating my pussy so… trepidatiously!” Look, if you're gonna do it like that then do us both a favor and just get up here and fuck me already, will you?
So it was during period that I went through this major Girl Sex Fantasy Phase. The only kind of porn that interested me was girl-on-girl, I had these intense sexual dreams about women, and whenever I was having Alone Time, the only thing that could get me off was imaging a girl going down on me. I mean, having a girl go down on you just has to be among the best sex that could exist, right? She's got the goods. She knows what works and what doesn't.
So at the time, I was a grad student at ISU living in Bloomington/Normal, IL. For those of you who don't know B/N, let me sum up. It sucks. There's nothing to do there other than drink in overcrowded undergrad bars or go dance to, I don't know, Eminem's “My Name Is” with like eight million single older horny State Farm employees. It's bad.
So a few of my fellow classmates, including my very good friend Jeff, were going to go out for a "wild" night on the "town." This girl from one of our classes invited us to her apartment first for a few drinks. We got there and were introduced to her roommate, Serine. Serine was from Armenia, a PhD English student, about five one with short, short black hair, and she. Was. Smokin'. Think Alyssa Milano circa the later seasons of Who's The Boss. We say hi, have a beer, then suddenly became very aware of my surroundings. Her desk area was completely covered with photos of naked women. I look back at her, and she looking at me in a way that no woman has every looked at me before. It says, I want to eat you alive. And to my surprise, I don't break her gaze or turn on my heels to see where Jeff went. Instead I hold it, and smile back.
So we all go to the hottest spot in Bloomington, IL. Flat Jack's. We have some drinks and we hit the dance floor, and it's packed and we're dancing. And this Armenian girl is really close to me. REALLY close. So then I get paranoid because a) I was a grad assistant who taught a Sociology 101 class and I was worries that one of my students would see me and, I don't know, what? Report me to the Grad Assistant Police? and b) though I had been attracted to girls forever, I had never actually done anything like this before out of fear of people thinking that I was doing it just go get guys. Because you know guys, that's why we do it, right? For you. And your needs. No no, please. Let me fulfill your fantasy. That's why I'm here.
But I digress.

Ok, so long story short, we're all over each other, and it's both super hot and kinda scary at the same time... kinda like when your high school gym teacher has cornered you in the utility closet and he's all "If you want to make the team you're gonna have to show me some initiative," and you feel both totally sexually harassed and afraid but also super turned on, and you know it's wrong but you really do want to make the team, and anyway he's kinda cute for a guy in his late 40's, so you just sort of go along with it, you know? No? Oh.

Anyway, so we're dancing and I have to pee. So I say, "I have to pee." And she says, "I'll come with you." So we get to the bathroom and there's a line of girls waiting, so Serine and I just stand there quietly, looking at each other from the corners of our eyes. Finally a stall opens up and it's my turn. So I go in, and she suddenly pushes her way in behind me.

"Oh, I'll just come in too," she says.

"Uhhh," I say, "Ok, but I have to pee."

"That's ok," she says. So, I sit down and start to pee. At that moment, Serine grabs my face and shoves her whole entire tongue down my throat. And. It. Is. AWESOME. We're making out like death row inmates and all the time I'm totally peeing. To this day, that's the closest to water sports that I've ever come. I stop kissing her only to wipe and pull up my pants and then we're back at it, slamming each other back and forth against the stall walls. The loud chatter of the line of waiting girls outside goes from 10 to dead silence in about five seconds as they realize what's going on.

"Let's get out of here," she says, coming up for air and all I can do is nod, take her hand, and walk out of the stall, past the line of gaping undergrads. One of which I did recognize as one of my Sociology 101 student. Whoops.

We go to her place. We're in her room. We're tearing off our shirts and sucking tongues, hands everywhere. She has amazing tits. I suddenly mentally turn into a sixteen year old boy. "Oh my god, boobs," I think. "I'm totally touching boobs right now. For real. Oh my god. This is so cool."
We're down to our panties and fall onto the bed. She's kissing down my body, my lips, my neck, my breasts, my stomach and I feel her hand tug on my panties. And then I remember.

Ok, backing up a bit. At this time, I also happened to be "seeing" this guy (read: fucking) who was like an undergrad, but he was in his 30s, all non-traditional student, total pill-popping, super dirty hippie Deadhead. Usually not my type, but hey. Central Illinois. Anyway, I'd let him come over and get stoned and go on and on and on about Durkheim and Max Weber and the sociological theory and blah blah blah, and finally he'd get around to fucking me. So at one point post coital, he looked at me and said "Why do you wax that?"

What? I asked.

"Your flower. The good Lord put petals on it for a reason. Let it groooow."

Well that was just about the dumbest thing anyone has ever said to me in or out of bed, but A) like I said, pickin's were slim and B) anything that promotes my laziness is ok by me. Don't shave you say? You don't have to ask me twice! So. I did not touch that shit for months. I was rockin' more 'fro than a late 70's Blacksploitation flick.

So right as Serine is about to pull down my panties to expose my "flower," I remembered that my garden more closely resembled the deepest of overgrown Amazonia than that of a tulip. I cringed, but there was no going back now. She pulled them down and I heard her gasp.

Gasp! she said and looked up at me.

"I have been waiting for a pussy like this!"

"What?" I asked.

"All you American girls are always so bare," she said in her thick accent. "Like little girl! I don't understand that. You are WOMAN. I love hair! I love this pussy!"

"Oh," I said. "Well. Good. Yayyy for me!"

She started kissing my stomach, moving down my legs, on to my inner thighs.

Oh my god, I thought. This is it. My most current number one fantasy is about to come true! A super fucking hot Eastern European girl has got me completely naked on her bed and is about go down on me! This is going to be awesome!! I laid back, shut my eyes, and awaited what was sure to be the kind of ecstasy that only a woman can bring to another.

She started.

What is she doing? I thought. Ok, ok, she's just warming up. No worries.

Why is she...? Why is she over there? What does she think that does? Because the answer is nothing. This is... Oh, wait. Ohhhh yeah. Right there! Good good. Just do that. Good.
Wait!! Why did she stop! Arrghghgh! This isn't the Red Lobster Combonation Platter, just pick ONE thing and stick to it!

This isn't working, I thought. My big theory of a woman knowing exactly what to do, down the drain. She was really bad. Now what do I do? I thought. Do I fake it? God I hate that, but ugh, this would probably classify as an emergency situation.

And I was considering just that, when she suddenly stopped and looked up at me.

"Mmm," she cooed. "I'm like your little kitty cat. Meow."

She went back down and started licking me again, purring like a cat.


Did she just meow into my pussy? I thought.

Yes, she did. Yes, she was. With every lick, she ended with a meow.

Lick, Meow. Lick, Meeeoooow.

Well that did it for me! Five more meows and my buzzer blew.

Ohhhhhhhh my god!!

Cats. Who knew?

I learned a very important lesson that day. You should never assume that someone is going to be good or bad at something soley based on their gender or appearance. It's wrong to stereotype. The other thing I learned is that Armenians are really hairy.

-by Jill Neumann