Keep score along with her as Ondra, a 28 year old slut in denial, graphically catalogs every ounce of semen and every drop of vaginal fluid from her sexual exploits in her remarkably descriptive sex chronicles. She discloses everything to her readers, from photographic details about past and present fucks to her own quirky personal hygiene and grooming habits.
*****
I once heard a comedienne say that she keeps in touch with all of her ex-boyfriends so that she can always go back and have sex with one of them without adding to her overall "number".
SHEER GENIUS, and a point of view to which I too subscribe.
Although it won't necessarily help the environment, I always try to employ this brand of "sexual recycling" and it helped me reduce my overall "vaginal footprint" by at least 1 in 2011.
Guy #1: Feb - Apr 2011. Tim - Made fun of the way I fuck.
Although he was never really a boyfriend in the classical sense, Tim is the one guy I was with in 2011 to which the taste, feel and aroma of my pussy was not new. It was Tim whom, as I've mentioned in the past, called me greedy for rubbing my clit during sex. He just couldn't figure out why I felt that I needed to masturbate even though I was presently being fucked.
His ribbing me about that is a bit frustrating, but as I've said before, Tim is a really, really nice guy. He's just a good person. Why do you think I keep recycling him? My most recent three month fling with Tim was about my fourth or fifth go-round with him over the past several years.
He's kind of a nerd that's cool at the same time and being a nerd, he hasn't been with many women in his life. In fact, I think I'm one of only four for him. I don't "know" but I "know of" one of his other girls and I'm relatively sure she also comes back to Tim from time to time.
Ordinarily geeky guys like Tim don't get chicks like us, pretty (I'd rate myself an 8.7286145 on a scale of 1 to 10) and bit on the racy side. That other girl actually reminds me a lot of myself and I'd love to know what the remaining two look like. Tim tells me I give the best head, however. By the way, he may be a geek, but he happens to have a fit and naturally lean body, so no one should feel sorry for me for getting repeatedly fucked by him.
Tim says he's been called "safe" his whole life. I agree with that, but to me safe doesn't mean harmless or boring. Usually when a woman tells a guy he's harmless she's really saying, "You'll never see me naked." Well, Tim has probably seen me naked as much if not more than any guy I've dated in the last ten years and he doesn't seem so "harmless" to me when his balls are slapping against my clit as he's thrusting his dick into me from behind.
As far as him being boring, I'll say this:
Orgasms Aren't Boring - and I've had more of them at the bequest of Tim's fingers, tongue and rock hard cock than I could even begin to count (or could I?).
To me safe simply means familiar.
I know that watching me work out on my elliptical machine gives Tim a hard on.
Tim always seems to be able to figure out precisely how I want my pussy eaten on a given day.
I know the way Tim likes his balls cradled as he's having an orgasm.
Tim can tell how horny I am just by the sound of my voice, even if we're talking about pomegranates.
Although our familiarities have made for some pretty rockin' sex since we've met, I can't single out one signature moment that defines our union. So, since Tim's dick has been inside me more than anyone's recently, I decided to attempt to quantify just how much fucking we've actually done over the years. I've never sat and figured out something like this before and I'm dying of curiosity to see the results!
Now, let's assume an average fling between us lasted about eight weeks and that we've had five of them. So that's forty total weeks for the Tim and Ondra Show. We'll say that we had sex ten times a week, with a "time" equalling one orgasm for Tim and, of course, one load of cum. But let's not ignore my own orgasms either and estimate them at triple Tim's total.
We'll go on to assume that one-half of Tim's loads ended up in my stomach, twenty percent ended up in my vagina, ten percent ended up on my tits, five percent ended up solely on my face with minimal swallowing involved (an outright cum facial), five percent ended up in my colon and ten percent ended up somewhere else on me, like on my back or stomach. We'll forget about the ones that went straight down the drain in the shower after a handjob and those random ones that went into my coffee or some meal I was eating (yeah, we're into that too).
I'll designate an outright blowjob as a time when a cumshot from Tim was produced absent of any intercourse and came strictly from me giving him head (I was going to say: "...came strictly at the hands of my mouth", but that sounded too strange), and we'll set that number at fifteen percent of the "one-half in my stomach" number from above. Granted that's a loose estimate, because I didn't swallow every single one of the loads that I generated by outrightly blowing Tim, but for the overwhelming majority of them I did.
So, after crunching the numbers we find that Tim has achieved 400 orgasms through the use of my body in some way, shape or form and I've gone to the moon 1,200 times thanks to him.
Through a combination of the 30 outright blowjobs I've given him and his finishing off in my mouth after sex, I have swallowed 200 loads of Tim's cum.
Tim has given me 20 outright cum facials and dumped 40 loads of spunk on my tits. I've received 80 vaginal and 20 anal creampies from Tim and he has deposited his product somewhere else on my body 40 times.
Doesn't seem like such a geek now, does he?
Okay, I need to warn you guys up front that June was a very busy month for me (and my vagina). I saw a statistic somewhere that said June is the number one month in which teenagers lose their virginity and I believe it. I mean, with proms, last minute flings before graduation and spring fever, how could it not be?
At any rate, I am also a part of that statistic and to this day I'd be willing to bet that since I started having sex, I've fucked more NEW guys in that month than in any other month on the calendar.
That said:
Guy #2: June 2011. Brian.
I met Brian through a dating group veiled in the guise of a hiking and outdoor fitness club. I called it the - "Oh yeah, well if you're so into hiking, then hike your ass over here and fuck me" - club, because that's primarily how people treated it. They basically used it to find sex partners. I wasn't any different, but at least I actually hiked when I showed up. Sometimes people would just meet in the parking lot at the bottom of the trail and then carpool it over to Starbucks from there.
On my first hike with the group I started walking with Brian because he was the only one who seemed serious about it. We immediately developed a mutual respect. Well, by the second hike I realized that respect wasn't the only thing Brian had for me, as I repeatedly caught him staring at my tits as they jiggled and bounced up and down when I walked. On hikes I would wear these tight, white cotton t-shirts that clung to me and closely contoured themselves to the silhouette of my breasts, so who could blame him?
Only halfway through the second hike I was already pretty relaxed around Brian and was comfortable enough to tell him I had noticed him checking out my tits. We joked about it for the rest of the walk and by the time we got back to our cars, I had made a bet with him over the amount of support I would be donning under my t-shirt the next time the group met.
If was wearing a bra for Saturday's hike, I owed Brian a dinner, but if I had the guts to show up bare-breasted underneath my t-shirt, then he would have to treat. Kimberly's printer was acting up, so she happened to be over using my computer Saturday morning.
"Ondra! THAT'S how you're going hiking?"
