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Down Boy

thepleatolosemyv:

No, I don’t see you in that way.
No, I don’t ever want a boyfriend.
No, I won’t go on a date with you.

Those sentences are pretty clear right?
It doesn’t really leave much room for interpretation. And yet last week my words fell on deaf ears as i experienced the single most awful night of my…

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Time To Get Some 2 months since my last post - and in that entire time i have not so much as kissed a boy. I’m well aware that i’d be considered sexually frustrated most of the time but not having a single tongue down my throat in the last 60 days has made me delusional. Yesterday, i found myself actually wishing for a boyfriend! Luckily i was able to snap myself out of that ridiculous desire. I shudder at the thought. But that’s the problem with going too long without something, you find yourself planning the strangest things and sometimes i can’t tell if it’s what i really want or not. I’ve gone 21 years with no action, so naturally in that time i’ve managed to imagine everything about my first time. I kid you not, i’ve gone through the details with a fine toothcomb. However, these aren’t your ordinary details. I’m not dreaming about a romantic setting with cheesy music in the background and a buff man who can lift me up like a feather. No. Instead i find myself obsessing over: how much pain i’ll be in, will the pain be enough to bring tears to my eyes? whether or not there will be blood, and if there is blood should I be embarrassed or not? What if i need to piss during? if he’s awake before me will i have to wander around naked searching for my pants in front of him? As if this isn’t bad enough, i have the most nerve-racking question constantly burning in my mind: Will he think my vag looks weird?! Let’s not forget, this would be the first person EVER to see it (other than myself - and even i don’t spend much time eyeing it up). The thought of someone’s face being that close to my junk makes me want to join a nunnery. Sometimes i wish i could go back to my 14 year old self and just tell her to quit worrying and spread her legs. At least then i would have just laid back and let it happen - rather than spending a Wednesday night planing which angle i should lie in order to make my butt look smallest. Tragic.

thepleatolosemyv:

2 months since my last post - and in that entire time i have not so much as kissed a boy.

I’m well aware that i’d be considered sexually frustrated most of the time but not having a single tongue down my throat in the last 60 days has made me delusional. Yesterday, i found myself actually…

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It's a Blowjob. Simple.

It’s a Blowjob. Simple.

A couple of weeks back i received an anonymous message from a girl asking how to give the best blowjob.

Ah! Finally. The sole area i have experience in. 

I wish I could reel off a whole list of magical steps, from how to make him praise you to all of his friends, to getting it over and done with in the bathroom stall in under 5 minutes. 
Sadly, i have absolutely no clue what i am doing when i’m down there. I desperately wish i had the answer to this, but there are no rules to this thing. Just because i do it often enough doesn’t mean i have any idea as to what works best.

I DO know a pretty important part is that i genuinely enjoy it. How often do you get to be in complete control of a man? You may be the one on her knees but when you’re in that position it is YOU whose in charge.
You decide if and when he’s going to get his happy ending. 
You get to call all the shots. 

Because the truth is when he’s in that position there is nothing he won’t do to make sure you carry on. I once stopped half way and had a guy run down to the ground floor to bring me up a drink because i was slightly thirsty. I could have 100% waited, but i quite liked having him wrapped round my finger - you know, as opposed to me being wrapped round his dick.

What i’ve found is as long as you keep your teeth reeled in, then there isn’t much that can go wrong! If you want to do it, then you may as well just get stuck in, hands, tongues, the whole lot!

And hey, don’t forget, there will be a pretty big sign that you’ve done it right!

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Turns Out I'm The One Who Gives a Fuck.

 

Turns Out I’m The One Who Gives a Fuck.

In my last post i was really giving it the biggun’ about how i could act as shamelessly as possible and i could still hold my head up high. And yet, it’s a week later and i cannot stop thinking about the events of last weekend.

No matter what i’ve done drunkenly in the past, the extent of my feelings the next day was embarrassment. It never went any further than that. I suppose this is the first time when i’ve really experienced regret over my drunken behaviour.

Not to mention my confusion as to why no one stepped in. I was in a room with a small group of my friends witnessing my hands down a guys boxers and his hands between my legs. They watched as my head (in their own words) “rolled around backwards” clearly showing my disorientated state. And still, none of my friends so much as asked me if i was too drunk to go home with the lad.

Everyone seems to be fine with gossiping about what happened and passing judgement, but am i wrong in thinking that by witnessing this they were just as responsible in what happened? Not a single one of them was anything more than tipsy. Surely as my friends they should have felt obliged to check that i was okay?

Don’t get me wrong, i’m not one of those lame girls who can’t hold their own. I can only ever remember one time when i have had help when drunk. Otherwise i leave when i should, i throw up as discreet as possible and i don’t expect people to end their nights because of me. I just always thought that if i ever really needed help my friends would know when to call it, especially as i have taken care of them countless times.

I know i put up a front. I’m a virgin who loves to suck guys off and doesn’t believe in relationships - but i can’t help feeling ashamed that people had to see what they did last weekend. The fact that i can’t remember what we did at his place terrifies me. I’m sure i’d of remembered if we had had sex, but anything below the waist is still a big deal for me.

Im embarrassed of how i acted.

Im ashamed that all my friends saw.

Im hurt that i wasn’t important enough for anyone to worry about me.

Im angry that everyone is gossiping, regardless of whether they were there or not.

Im confused as to how a couple of my friends can be so closed minded as to have actually stopped talking to me?!

I have always stuck up for girls when guys judge them on how many people they’ve shagged or where they have had sex or even with who. I have outwardly defended my friends with situations such as abortions and sex tapes. If they aren’t making their opinions known to the boys then it really means nothing to me that they are on my side.

You can’t defend someone by staying silent. They may as well just call me a whore themselves. 

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You're from where? Oh, let me just spread my legs.

 

You’re from where? Oh, let me just spread my legs.

The other day i received an inbox saying “your life revolves around sex and that’s so sad”

I thought this was obvious but apparently i need to clear something up - my life does not revolve around sex, my blog does. Difference.

Anyhoooo, on with the show boys and girls!

So i’ve started noticing now that i live away from my home country, whenever i bump into lads from back there i find them twice as more interesting over here. 
I pay significantly more attention to them, i laugh uncontrollably at their otherwise twatish jokes and i am much quicker to dismiss their mediocre looks in order to get off with them.

This exact thing happened last week when i bumped into one such group of guys. I was instantly hooked. I heard the accent and i knew i would search no further that night.

Now in hindsight, not one of them was actually good looking, nor can i remember any of them saying anything of value - yet, at the time, i was the luckiest girl in the club. I was the chosen one. The one that had the honour of being in the presence of these “dashing” men. 

I ended up making out with one of them and going back with another (despite the fact he lived an hour away).
We ended up making out in his bed, all pg stuff, so i was pretty pleased. UNTIL, his dick was out.
I had gone through my specific ritual of explaining how nothing would be happening tonight because it was “that time of the month” as was always the case with me. Therefore, if someone wacks out their dong without my permission i’m always displeased. He hovered that thing above my mouth for a couple minutes trying to prod it in until he realised i was not having any of it. 

It ended with him jacking himself off whilst i whispered sweet nothings in his ear.

After this extremely cringe moment we were rescued by his friends who came bolting into the room. After about an hour of smoking up and chatting i decided to grab my shoes and excuse myself quietly so as not to cause a scene. As i did this, one other lad left with me saying he wanted to go home too.

I honestly didn’t plan for this to happen but… we were both waiting for a taxi, he was better looking than the previous 2 guys i had already got with and i felt like cuddling up to someone for the night. SO off to his we went.

I was now at my second house for the night with lad number 3. We were making out again and grinding profusely, so when he gave the hint, i didn’t mind sucking him off. 
What i DID mind however, was his constant questioning of “where should i cum?” - i had made it clear it wouldn’t be in my mouth and yet he kept repeating the question. What was i supposed to say? Would the words “anywhere but on me” have been too harsh? The reasonable place would have been in a tissue, but i decided against being a buzz kill and landed on “on my tits”.
This exchange of words went back and forth for about a minute or so until he jizzed in his own hands. 
I’m still not sure what the point of him asking was.

When i woke up i felt a little embarrassed about what had happened the night before and so quickly snuck out before he awoke.

I felt this was the right move for me, I had no intention of discussing the fact that i had pretty much just got passed around their group of friends that night.

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The Plea to lose my V: A Whore-ish Halloween

thepleatolosemyv:

A Whore-ish Halloween:

After my antics during last halloween I can tell you I 100% did not imagine myself to still be a virgin this year, and yet, here I am.

Let me explain exactly what happened… and by that, i mean, what i have pieced together from other people as i have very little memory of it. Up until recently it has always been my most drunken night. aka. my sloppiest of nights.

It was of course a last minute decision to head out, so at around 2am me and a girlfriend start walking to the medschool party to meet our other friends. 
Being the only non med students we knew we would need to be double as drunk in order to feel comfortable, especially as they had a huge head start on us. I can safely say if anyone was uncomfortable that night it sure as hell was not me.

We left the building with 1 goon sack to drink between the two of us as we walked over. This involved stopping in our tracks every so often, pulling out the sack from my bag, in order to tip our heads back, tongues out and pour the alcohol into our mouths - Yes. Classy right from the start.

After half an hour of walking we had reached the party and coincidently also finished the goon sack between the two of us. Not surprisingly we were pretty trashed by this point.

The party had started to wind down given that we had left at a ridiculous hour and so we joined the others walking towards a grubby nearby pub. I ask a boy his name, he answered in an irish accent and so naturally my mind was made up. We stopped and made out. Unfortunately i was so plastered I couldn’t handle both our bodies pushing against each other and end up on the floor. We continued to make out on the ground for a little longer until even I realised this was a little too embarrassing for my liking.

As we continued on the walk i discovered someone had put a goon sack in my bag - JACKPOT!! We all continued to drink it until we arrived at the pub where i proceed to hide the sack in the girls toilets so me and my girlfriend could finish it off there.

After numerous more drinks and getting off with another lad whose name i didn’t care for, i discover…ready for it…ANOTHER goon sack in my bag. I kid you not. If anyone ever needed proof that miracles exist then you needn’t look further. 3 goon sacks in ONE NIGHT - that shit doesn’t just happen to anybody!

I don’t even understand how i was standing up by this point. OH WAIT. I wasn’t. I ended my night rolling around in the bushes in front of the pub with a guy. I’m not sure if we were actually making out or if i had just dragged him down with me as i fell to my shame.

What i can tell you is once i got to my room i projectile vommited all over the bathroom floor and proceeded to scoop it into the bowl.

A very very messy night, but nothing a hot shower and fry up can’t rid you of the next morning.

Given the amount of tongues i shove down my throat and my constant intoxication I am dumbfounded as to how my hymen is still intact.

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The Plea to lose my V: Turns Out I'm The One Who Gives a Fuck.

thepleatolosemyv:

Turns Out I’m The One Who Gives a Fuck.

In my last post i was really giving it the biggun’ about how i could act as shamelessly as possible and i could still hold my head up high. And yet, it’s a week later and i cannot stop thinking about the events of last weekend.

No matter what i’ve done drunkenly in the past, the extent of my feelings the next day was embarrassment. It never went any further than that. I suppose this is the first time when i’ve really experienced regret over my drunken behaviour.

Not to mention my confusion as to why no one stepped in. I was in a room with a small group of my friends witnessing my hands down a guys boxers and his hands between my legs. They watched as my head (in their own words) “rolled around backwards” clearly showing my disorientated state. And still, none of my friends so much as asked me if i was too drunk to go home with the lad.

Everyone seems to be fine with gossiping about what happened and passing judgement, but am i wrong in thinking that by witnessing this they were just as responsible in what happened? Not a single one of them was anything more than tipsy. Surely as my friends they should have felt obliged to check that i was okay?

Don’t get me wrong, i’m not one of those lame girls who can’t hold their own. I can only ever remember one time when i have had help when drunk. Otherwise i leave when i should, i throw up as discreet as possible and i don’t expect people to end their nights because of me. I just always thought that if i ever really needed help my friends would know when to call it, especially as i have taken care of them countless times.

I know i put up a front. I’m a virgin who loves to suck guys off and doesn’t believe in relationships - but i can’t help feeling ashamed that people had to see what they did last weekend. The fact that i can’t remember what we did at his place terrifies me. I’m sure i’d of remembered if we had had sex, but anything below the waist is still a big deal for me.

Im embarrassed of how i acted.

Im ashamed that all my friends saw.

Im hurt that i wasn’t important enough for anyone to worry about me.

Im angry that everyone is gossiping, regardless of whether they were there or not.

Im confused as to how a couple of my friends can be so closed minded as to have actually stopped talking to me?!

I have always stuck up for girls when guys judge them on how many people they’ve shagged or where they have had sex or even with who. I have outwardly defended my friends with situations such as abortions and sex tapes. If they aren’t making their opinions known to the boys then it really means nothing to me that they are on my side.

You can’t defend someone by staying silent. They may as well just call me a whore themselves. 

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The Plea to lose my V: Slightly Out of Control - but who gives a fuck?

thepleatolosemyv:

So, the other night i may have got a tad out of hand.

It’s like a common rule that the nights you don’t plan to go out always end up being the craziest ones.

Embarrassing highlights include:

  • Falling head first out of multiple taxis.
  • Making out with my girl friend in the middle of the group.
  • Being offended with my failed insistence that my friend and the lad i had just picked up make out.
  • Jacking off the lad in FRONT of my friends as i casually spoke to them. That’s right, i literally wanked him off while having a conversation with my mates who were sitting about a meter away.
  • Leaving the mystery lad with my mates so i could give a blowjob to a friend of mine.

Not to mention i didn’t remember ANY of this the next morning, these are all horrendous acts that my friends have informed me of.

Needless to say i might try to control myself a little more next time, purely so i can hang onto a shred of my dignity when i leave university.

But you know what really gets me is when my male friends have the audacity to look down on me. They fuck whatever they can every single weekend without fail, but the second i do something they class as “too outrageous” they have the nerve to say i’ve gone too far?

Yes. I was absolutely, out of my mind, completely, blackout drunk.

Yes. Thinking about that night makes me cringe to the point of tears.

But so fucking what? No one has the right to tell me what i can do with my nights out. If i choose to act like a dirty whore when i’m drunk, then i sodding well will, it doesn’t actually make me one.

I love getting completely off my tits and having a funny story the next day. It keeps both me and everyone who was there amused. As far as i see it, i’m pretty much performing a public service.

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The Plea to lose my V: Not as classy as I like to imagine I am

i love thepleatolosemyv. Always puts me in a good mood!

Not as classy as I like to imagine I am

There seems to be a stereotype around virgins. I can feel it every time one of my friends remembers i’ve never had sex. I can almost feel them becoming more guarded as if they need to watch what they say a little more, or sit me down and hold my hand as they explain their sex lives to me. 

I had the birds and bees talk just like everyone else. I don’t care which bird is fucking which bee - the science is all the same. 

Although it rarely comes up when i’m chatting to strangers, if it ever does slip out that i’ve never had sex, 1 of 2 things will most definitely happen:

  1. They reduce their use of cursing, to my dismay become significantly less crude and treat me like a stepford wife terrified of living in sin.
  2. OR, they make me their target for the night. Repeatedly serenading me with romantic words such as “i’m going to ruin you tonight”

This is why i tend to stay away from giving away too much detail to people i’ve just met. I mean no one else is shouting out their number so why should i be any different? Granted my number is zero, but still!

I’ll give you an example to show what i really like to do on a night out:

When: A few months ago

What: A friends’ birthday

Where: A dirty pub, with a cramped dance floor and grubby toilets where plenty of mistakes can be made.

The theme of the party was “fun hats” so obviously i show up in a beer hat. that counts, right?

Needless to say after the first hour things start to get a little blurry. I couldn’t exactly be caught wearing a beer hat with no beer in it - i do have SOME standards.

The first guy i end up making out with was a randomer on the dance floor whose name i didn’t care for. In all honesty i think we were just dancing too close so our faces collided, but we both decided to just go with it. No words were required.

Soon enough i got that all too familiar feeling. I was going to be sick. I had no option but to run through the crowd in order to not make a mess. By ran i mean i literally tore away from his lips and legged it to the closest toilet. But of course, having my luck, there was no lock on it. I slammed the door behind me and flung myself at the toilet bowl where i continued to projectile vomit. Once i was finished making room for more alcohol i turn around and to my shame see the bouncer standing there waiting patiently.

After being escorted out and having a chat about how i am “allergic to alcohol” and most definitely not too drunk i am allowed back in to continue the show.

A few more drinks in me and i make my way back to the dance floor. At this point i return to my group of friends and push through people in order to find my usual make-out friend. We do our usual thing until we are both bored of kissing.

Dancing with the group i start noticing the birthday girls brother. I’d never spoken to him but his increasingly aggressive grinding was doing something for me. Between the blurs i was able to make out his tall height and blond hair. In my mind i had found brad pitt. We both lunge at each other and progress to lock lips in the centre of our dance circle. In my drunken state even i could tell this was not a pretty site. Tongues were flying everywhere, butts and boobs were being grabbed and my chin was getting more and more wet. That may have been my sign that i had embarrassed myself enough for one night. 

I may not hold my alcohol well, and i may get with almost any guy in site but that’s EXACTLY what i enjoy on a night out. Virgin or not.

I like to get sloppy, have meaningless conversations with people i will never meet again and taste the tongues of numerous men.

And, to be frank, I cant bloody wait to add shagging to that list!

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