The Over-Educated Nympho

Pardon me for being MIA lately, you can blame that on a minor cold and studying for the management training program. I’ve received lots of questions in the comments and emails asking “what happened to ___”, which is the reason for this post.

Jazz Man
Still around and kickin’. He’s the one who left matching hand prints on my ass last week. I see him about once a week for fantastic sex and then we disappear back into our busy lives. Just because I don’t post about every time I see him it doesn’t mean he has vanished from my life. It means I’m too tired from all the sex to write.

The Marine
Post about conquering the superdick is coming soon. It requires extensive research the likes of which no one could ever guess. He is still being sweet and respecting the fact that I already had a busy life before I met him.

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I pulled up in the empty parking lot by Sweetie Pie’s apartment. I called her, “hey I’ve got it. Come down. I’m in a hurry.” While I waited I took the bottle of pills out of my purse and poured it into an empty sandwich baggie.

When I looked up I saw Sweetie Pie walking toward me with a big shit-eating grin on her face. I leaned over to unlock the passenger door but instead she came up to my window. I rolled it down and held up the bag of little blue capsules. Her eyes grew huge.

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“So what exactly is going on with you and The Marine?” asked New Old Friend. We went to grad school together and were friendly, but didn’t start really hanging out until we bonded at a mutual friend’s wedding recently. She ate a forkful of burrito and waited with teasing eyes.

“What? Nothing, we get it on and we hang out, but that’s all.” I dipped a chip in queso. I’m sick of having this conversation with my friends. Why do my friends want a definition if I don’t care?

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Aggie Boss is gone this week, leaving me in charge of our current account. I’ve been left alone on an account before, but it was at a point where all the decisions had already been made. Not the case here.

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I’ve met many guys who have named their cocks. Sometimes the name is normal, or at least not weird, and sometimes the name is very very weird. I shared one of my favorite WTF stories as the Friday Fellatrix on The Fellatrices blog, a site dedicated to all things blowjob. I figured I’d mix it up by throwing in something funny among all the hot and sexy.

Check out my latest post, Marco? Polo!

For those of you have encountered many a strange wang name (or named yours something special), please share it with us in the comments over at the Fellatrix site.

After a lot of anticipation (intimidation, fine, shut up), I finally had sex with The Marine tonight. Or attempted to have sex. No, it wasn’t the Superdick specifically that halted our efforts, it was The Marine’s lack of proper protection.

Dude. They teach this shit in Boy Scouts, and I’m sure they teach it in the marines: ALWAYS BE PREPARED. That means if you have a super-sized schlong, you buy super-sized condoms. DUH. You can’t make the square peg fit in the round hole either, Mr. Midvale School For the Gifted.

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On Friday night I went to a party with The Marine. There he introduced me to all his coworkers and then loaded me up on margaritas and authentic Mexican food fresh out of the deep fryer. Everything was so nice, everyone was so relaxed–this is how I always feel around the Marine. Being with him is easy.

As the sun set over the tops of buildings, I smiled at The Marine and told him, “I like your world. It’s fun. It’s easy.” He looked at me with confusion. “I mean I don’t take myself so seriously when I’m around you. It’s nice.” He smiled and squeezed my hand.

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I think all the naked time is getting to me. Clogging the brain. Blinding me. I can barely function as a normal human being. Of course this also happened when I went long periods without getting laid, so go shut the hell up.

And now I have to go to work? Seriously? I’m sorry Mr. Boss Man, but if you want me to get any work done you’re going to have to pry the cock out of my mouth and I HIGHLY RECOMMEND THAT YOU DON’T DO THAT. You know how animal mothers go all ape-shit crazy when someone goes after their young? I’M THAT WAY WITH COCK. LEAVE ME AND ALL THE PRETTY COCKS ALONE.

Last night I came home at two thirty in the morning with two perfectly defined hand prints on my ass. How can a girl expect to concentrate under these circumstances? IT CAN’T BE DONE.

When I started dating two guys (why yes I AM going to brag about that for as long as I can–consider it payback for the 7.5 months without sex, thank you), I gave myself the “be responsible” speech and talked with each one about the last time we got tested for STDs. Both had tested recently and came out clean, as did I. Phew, relief!, now let’s celebrate by getting our naked on.

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On Monday night I went over to The Marine’s to hang out. Get my naked on. Whatever. It was only my second time at his apartment, our third “date”–not that I’m sure it counts if I show up with fast food and no make-up.

We ate our food and talked with the TV on in the background. The food in our bellies fed the fire in our bodies. We progressed from kissing to boobies (BOOBIES!! [something about the word just has to be yelped with glee]) to bare skin rubbing against bare skin.

On our second date I had sucked him off, and now it was time for The Marine to get his face down in my business.

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