LuvJonesin' Part 1

Here we go again. “30-something woman looking for a man who knows how to romance, appreciates candle-light dinners, walks in the park . . .” Stick a finger down my throat and give me a break. This is torture. I’ve been writing demure, sweetly flirty personal ads for 4 months now. Gotten me nowhere. The truth is most of these men really want a whore but just can’t fit one into their lives. So they ask for other things: a spontaneous woman with a heart of gold, good sense of humor, stable job, soft blue eyes, someone who likes to cook, drink wine and watch videos, maybe shake it at the club or impress his friends with her intelligence and big tits. So I write this instead: “Divorced for three years and I cannot get enough dick. Actually, I can’t get just the right kind of dick, often enough, with no strings attached. If I were a man, this wouldn’t be so difficult. Men are expected to want sex all the time and not feel guilty about getting it. Well, who are you fucking? Women like me. And we aren’t whores. Maybe we are but see that’s not a bad thing. You’re a whore, too. And just what I’m looking for. A man wakes up everyday with his cock like a pool stick, so it’s understood, accepted, expected. News flash! I wake up, go to sleep, drive down the highway, work at the computer everyday, cook dinner at the stove everynight with my clit throbbing and rock hard like a smoldering marble. My nipples ache against my sweater, wanting to escape, begging to be pinched and rolled. My mouth needs something really big to suck on. Of course, I can get off right now, writing this to you, just by crossing my legs and squeezing my thighs together. But that’s not what I want. It’s not what I need. We women must pretend we want love. Which is pure and simple bullshit. I want cock, lips, tongue, fingers, teeth, arms, legs, chest . . . pounding, pulsating, probing, throbbing, sucking, licking, squeezing, biting, slow or fast, doesn’t matter. I’m luvjonesin’, cockjonesin’, fuckjonesin’. It’s a simple enough request: Fuck me. Fuck me across your desk, in your 2003 Jeep Cherokee, in front of your friends, on the rough wooden picnic table smack dab in the middle of that abandoned camp site, in the church’s broom closet.” I push the send button. In two seconds, some unsuspecting man is going to get that ear full. And I will have to once again, change my alias on the personals and try one more time like a good little girl to capture some beefcake with a sturdy pole without asking for beefcake or his sturdy pole. These things get around, you know. Whore, slut, she-animal at 2’oclock. Watch your back. She’s got her claws out and her cunt is firewater dripping wet. (It’s tight too guys just in case you’re wondering. I can grip you like a vice. Give you a pussy hickey. Won’t let you go until I come all over your leather interior.)Shazaam!! I got a reply. This guy has got to be nuts. “Meet me at Liberty Park in 15 minutes, I’ll be in a gold Explorer.” I instant message back. “Don’t you want to know what I look like? I could have ugly feet.” He says: “I’m not going to fuck your feet.” Okay, so it’s probably some serial killer who hates women with a sex drive, but I go to the park anyway. Because his profile says he’s 42, the single father of three kids, owns his own business and a web cam. He gave me a preview of his sturdy pole. Nice guy. Didn’t see his face though. That’s okay. Do I care what he looks like? Hell, no. He’s already shown me what I’m interested in. On the web cam, him stroking that tall, dark and handsome penis. The camera showed his strong muscular legs, the color of rich chocolate, and his chest like a brick wall. And right in the middle, being strangled by his man hand, his manhood. Pure, unadulterated male. Masculine. Sexual. Animal. Muscular. I so appreciate MAN. Women are okay, I mean I think we have a certain serene quality, cushy sensuality. But a man. Oh, man, like this one, pumping his cock slow and steady aimed right at the camera like he’s just waiting for me to kneel down in front of him and run my pink tongue around it’s hugely bulbous tip. I would if I could and now I just might. Gold Explorer just pulled up. I get out of my car, wave, smile, and jump into his truck. “What makes you want to skip work in the middle of the day and fuck a perfectly unknown black man.” “You answered my ad,” I reply. “And you gave me a mighty good preview.: (More to CUM …)

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