I am having a lot of sex. This is a fact. And I am starting to learn something about it all.
Perhaps to say all of it is a little overzealous. I would say that I am starting to get a good sample space to hypothesize about the demographic of mostly white, educated, middle-upper class, slightly overweight, mid to late 20s heterosexual males. As an avid OkCupid user, I am finding, drinking and doing it with these young men, frequently on the second or (as is much more popular as of late) the first date.

I am also walking away from these encounters with little remorse, and an even littler desire to ever see them again. That latter part is not exactly true, as I am actually becoming good, jovial friends with quite a few of them and hope to keep them around for companionship and laughter, at least for a little while. At least a couple I hope to artistically collaborate with, so that’s an exciting area of exploration. Networking! Friendship! Casual sex!

I think I can do better than these folks. And by better I mean better bodies and bigger dicks. To be frank. I hadn’t realized how perfect I found PM’s body until I was ready and willing to entertain all sorts of body positivity (a lot in part, I realized now retroactively, because of my own insecurity) for my sexual partners. This does not mean that I am not attracted to a heavier set body, indeed, I would say I am drawn in particular to them because, as a large woman (in height and therefore size, but not heft — I remain a 38B for those who will relish in that sort of detail) I still feel insecure about being ungainly and/or immune to vulnerability. I need protection and I find that most in loving touch from caring, sure, passionate, loving humans. These humans can come in large packages. There is just one small, yet essential item: I need my sex to be, for lack of a better word, athletic.

This is not the same as huffing and puffing over me, at such an erratic and high strung rate that I (more than once) wince at the mental association with being humped by an epileptic walrus. This is not what I want to be thinking during sex. I want to be watching the sculpted Herculean body sensually, rhythmically, robustly pumping away at my supple, silky, smooth curves in a mirror that we have perched above our bed. I want to watch the muscles in his buttocks clench as he drives into me, as deep as he can go and then I arch my back and clench his shoulder blades as he goes yet in deeper.

I’m not getting this kind of sex.

In the meantime, I’m mostly being poorly fucked by mediocrely endowed men. You, sirs, cannot afford to have so little technique in addition to your little predicament. I hadn’t thought that size mattered but let’s remember my statistics, shall we? It took me 20 years to have sex with one man. I then had sex with him, the PM, the poorly postured but otherwise perfectly proportioned problem that he was, for TWO YEARS. In the subsequent weeks since my self-removal from that catastrophe, I have notched my belt an additional 5 notches in my belt, totaling my tally to 6.

And, yesterday, I had sex with 2 people. Not at the same time, mind you. (Yet.) But I definitely went from a first date/one-night-stand-where-I-left-instead-of-staying-over and then, instead of sleeping alone in my bed post date, I was booty-called and a man showed up on my doorstep and fucked me into the night. Entertaining? Yes. Enjoyable? Yes. Exhausting? Yes. Exactly the same next time? No. Needs improvement.

So, here is my advice to the demographic whom I expect to keep pursuing, even though I also may extend my casting net into higher leagues. I think I might be a pretty high league now, which is astonishing. I also think I may have dropped 12-15 lbs or so since arriving in the city but having stopped weighing myself around 3 years ago because it was making me insane, I wouldn’t quite know. I do know I feel slimmer, trimmer, and SO MUCH HORNIER. That’s the lack of birth control and I’m almost inclined to stay off of it, but then I remember I’ve had sex with two men in the last 36 hours and I remind myself that if I have a baby before I get a master’s degree, my family may disown me. #firstworldproblems

So my advice to all the young men in this age group looking to please a woman in bed, or:

How To Get Her (To Like It Enough To Want You) Again

1. Kiss her neck.
Don’t necessarily rub your face (especially if recently stubbled) against it.
Kiss, not bite, I said.
Slobber is not necessary.
A light sucking, occasional slip of the tongue, all along her collarbone, up her neck, along the jawline and then gently tugging on her earlobe.

2. Be gentle with her breasts
You don’t know where they’ve been (or what they’ve been supported by, what they’ve also been carried with, what time of month it is, how sensitive her nipples are)
Do not bite her nipples (unless she asks for it.)

3. Hickies are only acceptable in places where standard business casual clothing covers.
No exceptions.
Be conservative if you have any doubts.
Please.

4. Do not ram me for more than 2 minutes at the same tempo, frequency, gate, and stamina unless I am obviously reacting very positively. And even so, I don’t think I’ve ever done anything that long without changing something up.
Pumping is a no go. That word is just … that’s what the problem is. You are not having sex with, making love to, boning, fucking, or sleeping with me. You are just pumping my body and I am not into it.

5. Ask me, preferably early on, when you are clearly horny but not close and/or already finished, how I best come and then for the love of god help me get there.
If I say, no it’s okay, then it’s okay but you just got mad points for putting me first.
Protip: I always put your pleasure first, because watching you be pleasured (by me) is what turns me on the most. BUT: there are very particular things that you can do that will help me get going right along and then it’ll be smoother (wetter) sailing for everyone (if you get my drift).
I don’t want you to grunt and sweat and squint your eyes so much while you hump me dry that you forget to notice 1. that I’m a human there, receiving your skidding latex-sheathed dick and that 2. your latex-sheathed dick is skidding back and forth inside of the human below you.

Too much Ow; not enough Ahh.

Please and thank you.
Raynbow Phoenix thanks you.

P.S. As we all remember from last post, I give amazing head. One of my Pleasure Him Party Tricks, if you will. The one thing I will say about all you belt-notch boys is that you have been astoundingly grateful and for that I am flattered and charmed.

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