The Over-Educated Nympho

Today in my department was annual review day, which coincidentally is known as RAI$E DAY. At least that’s how it is known in my cubicle.

I entered The Partner’s office for my review first thing this morning. I brought my big cup of coffee and hoped that it wasn’t too obvious that I was trying not to think about the sex I did not have last night. Many people have told me I can’t lie worth a shit because my eyes give me away. Stupid STUPID eyes. I’d poke them if hadn’t already done a Clockwork Orange number on them.

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This morning we received our end-of-the-year bonuses. I was barely able to speak for the rest of the day. I had been expecting a 30% increase from last year’s bonus, which was not exactly lunch money. Although I was hoping for a 50% increase, I wasn’t letting myself get excited over the thought.

When I opened the company holiday card with my bonus check inside, I damn near dropped the fucking thing. It was over three times last year’s bonus. NO FUCKING WAY.

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This last week at work has been ridiculously crazy thanks to everyone on our big account leaving me stranded at a very crucial time. One by one they apologized for not being at the office to help, and each time I tried not to do a booty-shake and chant I’m gonna be in chaaaarge I’m gonna be in chaaaaarge. Booty-shaking, I’ve been told, is not professional.

For my entire (albeit limited) career I have been at the bottom of the corporate ladder. I hate being at the bottom. I don’t do bottom, which is exactly why I planned on proving to everyone that I belong at the top. Here’s my chance–it’s much easier to shine when there aren’t three bosses blocking the view of your talent with stacks of papers. My cubicle/cage is already plenty crowded, thank you.

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A couple days ago a new reader emailed me and said he heard about my blog on the radio.

The radio. THE MOTHERFUCKING RADIO. And not just any crap radio, but on Sirius sate-fucking-llite radio.

Duuuuuude. That is swank.

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Thanks to the lovely Astryd for nominating me for the following Blogger’s Choice Awards:

But wait, there are more! Three more. I am sooo booty shaking right now. In my underwear. I’m stretching seductively too. And burping. Hey, I make burping sexy, asshole.

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Last weekend I went to visit my family for Easter. I was nervous as fuck because I planned on telling The MOM that I want to be a writer.

I fear the wrath of The MOM. You probably think I’m exaggerating The MOM, don’t you? Nuh uh. I speaketh the truth.

Chuck Norris fears the wrath of The MOM. He tried to roundhouse kick her and she stopped him with a sigh.

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In my former coupled life, I spent most Saturday mornings with my (ex)boyfriend at our favorite coffeeshop. We would languish there for hours, drinking coffee, reading the comics and Best Buy ads, and just enjoy a quiet weekend routine, together.

This is no more.

Upon entering my new single life, I couldn’t continue going to my favorite coffeshop (what if he was there? with a girl? AT OUR TABLE??). Instead every Saturday morning I would gaze at my stack of books and laptop and think about how much I missed the old routine, then proceed to pull the covers back over my head and sleep through the rest of the morning in a quiet desolation.

This is also no more.

After a few weekends in my very own apartment (no Xbox! no dirty underwear in the bathroom! no fighting over who used more space on the TiVo!), I began to see nothing but possibility.

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Unless if something really horrible happens at my company in the next month, I have the (new) position. I start mid-January, after I finish up the big account I’ve been working on for months.

My new boss is a total sweetheart, my new co-workers are cool as hell, and –ack– I get to learn stuff. And I get –oh dear god I may faint– responsibility.

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[if you want to see a full listing of all the blowjob posts, go here]

Only half of what makes a blowjob so great is the technique. What pushes a good blowjob over the edge into sweetmercifulcrapWOW is your attitude, i.e. making it obvious to the guy that you love sucking his cock.Let’s go back and repeat that last part slowly: make it obvious to the guy that you love sucking his cock.

Make it obvious to the guy that you love sucking his cock.

I CANNOT STRESS THIS ENOUGH.

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Today has been a very exciting day. Well, if you ignore the eight hours I was at work.

Because of the much-anticipated threesome my site has already gotten over 500 hits today (100 more than my previous record), and it’s only 8:30pm. Tomorrow will hopefully be just as busy with the final—and best—posts about the really good stuff (which I’m writing immediately after this, don’t get your panties in a knot.) This brings all new meaning to the phrase “sleeping your way to the top.” hee hee.

Which brings us to the juicy news for those of you who missed the one sentence about this last night–it looks like there will now be regular threesome pieces, because everything was so fantastic that Handsome and Pretty Twosome and I have agreed to continue seeing each other regularly. Bah chi chi wah WAAH. It looks like I may be using a lot of sick days in the future.

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I have been tired as fuck all morning. I stayed up until what, 2:30 am last night writing before I finally passed out from exhaustion. Once I caught up on sleep, there was a grand total of six and a half hours of writing last night with only a couple breaks (mostly to, um, you know). And I’m not even done!! I still have the two best courses left!

On top of that I’ve been remembering all sorts of yummy things I left out of the previous two posts last night because I was getting tired and incoherent (on top of the glow of being freshly fucked. it’s really quite phenomenal I could remember how to put nouns and verbs together).

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Tonight I went to the grocery store to pick up some staples. Like wine. Bread. Oreos. As soon as I turned into the wine aisle I saw a nice piece of man-meat at the end. YOWZA.

As I walked closer, I realized I recognized this particular piece of man-meat. This man-meat had a name. It was Nice Guy #2, whom I had not seen since this night when I had yet another by the way thrown in my face. If I get by the wayed one more time it’s getting its own category label on my blog. And then maybe I really will give up on guys until they decide to play nice. And by “play nice” I mean STOP FUCKING WITH MY HEAD.

I eyed Nice Guy #2 up and down as I walked slowly toward him. Mmmmm he did look mighty fine. Those nice dark and frayed frat boy jeans, leather flip flops, and a tight charcoal grey tshirt. MMMMMMMMMM goes The Pussy. Oh dear god. He just raised his arm to scratch his head. Annnnd his bicep is AS BIG AS MY THIGH. AND MY THIGH IS THICK AND MUSCULAR AND OH MY GOD A BIG OL’ CHUNK OF MAN-MEAT BUFFET HEAVEN MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM. be cool be cool becool becoolbecoolbecool…

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