Looking for fun chats with naughty ladies and wherever that may lead.
me: white t shirt with blue jeans neelima: ok ok what should i wear? me: saree with red blouse deep cut and with knot at the back 27 years neelima: woww married? me: sorry gt disconnected u are married neelima: ok me: with a baby of 2 years neelima: ok shall i wear that saree? I shall take tea for u me: ok i sit and start checking the laptop neelima: I went out to tkake tea me: ok i try to find the problem neelima: I came back with tea in my hands....Welcome to the Frisky “Sex Diary,” in which an anonymous person shares the details of her sex life over the course of a few days. Email [email protected] All entries will be anonymous. He asks for pictures, which I refuse because, hey, you never know where that stuff’s going to end up, right? I’ve had suggestive conversations about likes and dislikes, and I’ve done (more than) my share of flirting, but I’ve never really gone “all the way.” At first I’m kind of awkward, blushing while I type and thinking, “Oh my God, I can’t believe I just said that” every time I hit “send.” After about 10 minutes, though, I kind of get into it. I say dirtier stuff to this Internet Hottie than I’ve ever said to any guy in person. Monday Night: Internet Hottie proves to be a fantastic distraction from my recent breakup. He’s been at a friend’s house since he got off work, goofing off, so he shows up in sweat pants and a T-shirt. A tight T-shirt gets me every time if the guy’s remotely built. Tall, but not too tall, blond hair, blue eyes, glasses …Sometimes these entries are filled with revealing romps, while other times there is nary a naked moment in sight. Diarist: A 22-year-old college grad, still working in retail because “I picked a Liberal Arts major.” Sunday Night: I got dumped recently. If I saw him at a bar, I would never think I had a shot with someone that tall, blond, and well-built, but online he approaches me. Then he asks if I wanted to have a “discussion” about sex. Of course, this also means I spend most of the day kind of turned on. I give him my usual line about how he could be a serial killer and I need to meet him in a public place first. the kind of guy who, had I seen him at a bar, I would have been too intimidated to flirt with beyond a long glance and maybe a smile. He seems intelligent, funny, and with a streak of dorkiness that puts me at ease fairly quickly.He just stopped calling and refused to answer my calls, texts, or messages. I rush home from work and log onto IM practically the second I walk through the door, eager to see if he’s pulled the disappearing act yet. He brushes it off, and then starts asking for pictures again. And it isn’t really a spur-of-the-moment thing, either … We sit on my couch for about an hour and a half just talking before anything happens. I’ve never been kissed like that before: long and slow, like the intent isn’t so much to “kiss” as it is to just be touching me. My eyes, my hair, my skin—he’s obsessed with how soft my hands are—all receive praise numerous times. I really want to give him head, but I also want him inside me, and I decide I’d waited long enough. I really want him to pound into me, too, so I’m disappointed when it’s uncomfortable.So, fresh from a week of moaning to my BFFs and reciting “you deserve better than that cowardly piece of trash” to myself on an hourly basis, I hit up my favorite free online dating site. The fact that I’m so anxious to talk to him again is probably a bad sign. it requires getting up, taking off my shirt — I kept my bra on — taking photos, uploading them, cropping out my face and sending. Kissing leads to a back massage, which leads to the bedroom. He’s bigger than I’m used to, or maybe just more enthusiastic. The best part, though, is that it isn’t awkward afterward. I’m trying so hard not to hope for a phone call or text tomorrow, or any kind of more-than-sex overture.