Girls With Guns

Mildly Successful Small Penis

In my limited experience of online dating I have but one memorable story. I met a cute guy on gay.com. Funny, mildly successful & horny. His profile checked out alright so we had a light dinner & went to the movies. We made out in the theatre & that was nice I guess. We decided to walk back to my place & fuck. So we’re in my room, making out, blah blah blah & he takes off his pants. No underwear. Classy. Smallest penis I’ve ever seen? Scary! Nothing could have prepared me for this! Au contraire, if I’d had the balls to ask him how big his dick was on gay.com then I wouldn’t be in this, ahem, little situation. It was like a cocktail sausage people. A runty cocktail sausage that had escaped the factory & hitched a ride with this guy. He motioned for me to blow him & I was horrified. I decided to humour myself because crying was out of the question. With tears welling up I slowly lowered my head over the cocktail sausage & regretfully started to do what these lips were made for. Sexually abusing a twelve year old boy has never been on my ’to do’ list so it surprised me that here I was in that very predicament, or what at least looked & felt like. If it weren’t for the pubic hair I don’t think I could have lasted the twenty seconds that I did. This was circus fare, bad circus fare. “Roll up, roll up! See the thirty year old man with the genitalia of a child! No smoke & mirrors here folks, just good old fashioned freakery!”
Needless to say I told him to put on his pants & get out. 
If I’m to leave you with a moral from this literary mess it would have to be that size really does matter. Don’t snort into your flat white you dithering fag. Don’t throw your head back & bray like a dirty donkey young queer. No amount of Chronicles Of Never Jewellery or swathes of Romance Was Born clothes will redeem you if you have a finger puppet posing as a penis. We’re not asking for cockzilla, no, no, just more than two inches. To be honest we’re asking for between six & eight. Somewhere between the two lies a snug fit.

Psychic Sue

Dear psychic sue,
I can’t find my favourite vibrator. I last used it on my front lawn when the neighbours were away & I haven’t seen it since. I’ve been eating Lindt chocolate balls to tie me over but I fear by the time I find it I’ll be too fat to stick it in me. 
Get Me Off
South Yarra

Dear Get Me Off
Your personal toy is still inside you. You fell asleep on the lawn & the batteries died. A gynaecologist or brave partner should be able to fish it out. Good luck. 

 

The Single Life

Last night I had the pleasure of hearing my neighbours fucking. It was around midnight that their TV was switched off and the love-making began. My initial thoughts were ‘here we go, they both finished work at 5pm, maybe they even catch the same train home. She probably cooked some pasta while he watched the news then checked his e-mail while giving encouraging words to her such as “that smells great baby”. They eat while watching Masterchef. She comments on how easy the cooking tasks are, fishing for compliments. He dutifully obliges her. This is followed by Two and a Half Men (his favourite show) then he does the dishes while she watches a home renovation show and checks her e-mail. They settle in and watch a film, maybe He’s Just Not That Into You followed by a crime show, perhaps CSI Las Vegas before hitting the sack by midnight. He’ll pound her for 7 minutes with intermittent blow jobs, will finger her but won’t eat her out, blow his load and kiss her goodnight. Oh life is bliss.

I was completely wrong. They got a decent 45 minutes to an hour. Not bad for a chilly Monday night. And do you know what I was doing? No, I wasn’t furiously masturbating with my ear to the floor. I was in bed reading a book and I’d just finished watching The First Wives Club (Goldie Hawn at her best) being a single loser. Here’s the kicker. The next morning I got woken up at 7am. They were having a quickie. Fuck my life.

Gay Sauna

I kinda went to a sauna recently. I’ve not been to one for a very long time, maybe 2 years and nothing has changed. But why would it? Sex will never change. How I got there is not surprising. As always I was drunk. I went to a gay bar. I went to the sauna. I paid, was given a small white towel and a key with an elastic band attached to put around my wrist. The key is for the locker to put your clothes in.

I did all this and then went to the showers. It’s sauna etiquette to shower before fucking but the showers are truly a god-send when you’re leaving and you’re smeared in a mix of jizz, lube and shame. Wash that come right outta your hair.

I wandered around the corridors, stumbled a few times because I was drunk and it was dark. A few guys did their sort of mating dance thing, giving me the eye, grabbing my butt. I felt grossed out so I decided to go into a group sex room. I sauntered in like the Queen of Narnia and cast off my towel like it was a royal cloak trimmed with ermine. The room was pitch-black. You can’t see anything in front of you. All you can hear is moaning, blowjobs and penetration. I fumbled around me and could sense I was surrounded by bodies. Before I knew it I was getting a blowjob. I was agitated (read:

grossed out.) and decided to leave. Whoever was blowing me stood up and said something like “I want you to fuck me”. Through the light at the exit I could see a guy turning around and bending over. I placed my hands on either side of his ass and just as he was expecting me to stick my cock in I pushed him aside and ran out the door leaving my cloak for dead.

 

More sauna etiquette: Though you’re practically naked anyway, it’s expected that when you’re walking around a sauna trolling for sex, you should have your towel around your waist. It’s more dignified.

 

I dashed out of the room, still with an erection and pulled myself together. I found a towel, showered and left. It really is hypocritical of me to say that I was grossed out. Can you imagine what the people who saw me exit the group sex room thought? Some wild beast with a hard-on bolts out in their direction, all blood-shot eyes and flailing limbs. I would’ve shot me with a tranquiliser dart.

 

First Time Anal

First time anal.

I tend to have a lot of things that happen to me in life that never seem to escape my friends as being funny. The time I fell on someone in a movie theatre. The time I went shopping with dried toothpaste around my mouth. The time in primary school that I had diarreah, sharted, ran to the toilets to find no toilet paper, waited for my friends to find me, got me some toilet paper, wiped my arse then lined my jocks with toilet paper like a make-shift jumbo pad. 
It’s funny that I remember that toilet incident because my first time anal experience is funny and almost involves shit. 
I was 20-ish, living in Wellington, massively awkward and almost completely sexually inexperienced apart from a few hand jobs and blow jobs. At the time, as far as I knew, the only bar in Wellington for people like me was The Pound. Such an eloquent name. The Pound was much like The Peel. A poor cousin of the Peel. Disco lights, terrible music (Grease megamix!?) and hideous fags. 
Naturally I was drunk and at that time in my life I believe it only took about two or three vodkas before I’d fuck anyone. Now I don’t even need vodka to fuck just anyone, I’ll take what I can get. 
So I’m sure you all know what it’s like when seeing people through beer goggles. It’s like ‘whoa, where have you been all my life? I love you vodka!’ I was swaying, propped up against a wall when I glanced over at the bar and saw a hot guy. 
I lurched over and straight out told him I thought he was cute. Now at the time, remember I was 20 and it turned out this guy was maybe 32 from what I can recall so he’s probably all like, mmm fresh meat. Ohh vomit. 
So then he buys the lady a drink and we danced then went back to his hotel room. Actually, it was a motel. 
Why isn’t it until you leave a bar with a hot guy that you realise he’s wearing leather pants? Hang on, where the fuck did they come from? And why are you bald? 
Ugh, I’m still drunk though and ever so willing to be fucked in the ass. I laid on the bed, he walked up to the edge, undid his leather fantasy pants and flopped out his donkey dick, dripping with pre-cum. Gross, I can still smell it now. 
So kissy, kissy whatever, clothes off blah blah “I wanna fuck you”
GULP
I’m like “okay”
Leather pants puts on a condom and needlessly tells me the following: 

-He’s in an open relationship. Don’t care buddy, stick your dick in me.  
-Unlike me, he doesn’t have to wax his chest, he’s smooth (cue rubbing his hand over his chest). Don’t care buddy, stick your dick in me. 
-A lot of guys can’t handle his dick because it’s sooooo big. Yeah it was big but I’ve since had bigger so fuck you arrogant leather pig daddy and stick that fuckin dick in me. 

He starts fucking me, very slowly. Then he suspects I’ve never had anal before. FUCK! The jigs up. Of course I lie. Nah man, I’m a massive slut. 
The fucking continues and despite having a frig with my fingers and shoving what not up there in the past, I still wasn’t quite prepared for a dick. The fucking gets more intense, I’m enjoying it but at the same time it’s uncomfortable. 
I then stop him. 
“What’s wrong?”
Drumroll please……………..
“I think I’m gonna shit”. 
I don’t think I’ve since seen anyone pull out that quickly in all my life. Leather Daddy whipped out his dick then ripped off the condom and threw it across the room while I dashed into the bathroom and sat on the seat waiting for an epic crap to bust the porcelain like a hand grenade. But it didn’t happen. As I’d so bluntly said to Leather Papi, I think I’m gonna shit. 
I was secretly relieved in a way because as the drunkenness wore off, he became evidently hideous and the situation more ugly. I napped for about an hour then walked home. 
As a sex tip I think that’s great. If you ever end up in the sack being fucked by the crypt keeper just sing out those magic words I think I’m gonna shit and watch them fly. 

Swallowing Jizz

When it comes to love, we’d do anything for that person who there for you at all times. When you’re sick, when you’re happy, when you’re sad. The same could be said for sex. While there’s enough that you have in common to keep a relationship on all fours there’s always those little things that you have to let go because you realise no one is perfect. It could be anything from not liking the way they make your coffee to the awful truth that they don’t like one of your friends. It’s all part of the deal you make when you first say I love you. Within that equation is sex and sexual compatibility. 

Having a perfect sex life is like having a perfect relationship. It’s unattainable right? When you’re fucking you’ve got in your mind what’s right for you and what’s gonna make you bark like a dog yeah? What happens when you’re fucking and the other person does something you’re not down with? Is it the way they kiss with not enough tongue or too much saliva? I’ve had some situations where it’s like, uhh I don’t think so buddy. Like this one guy that I was fucking. Often he’d blow me and I wasn’t gonna say no because he gave really good head. The problem with this was when I’d come. He obviously liked me coming in his mouth but he never swallowed it. No, what he’d do was keep it in his mouth and try and kiss it back into mine. Call me a prude and call me boring but for me, I don’t want my jizz in my mouth. I’ll have your jizz in my mouth, I’ll have Zachary Quinto’s jizz in my mouth but my own? I had to fight this guy off and push him away from me until he realized I wasn’t up for some home made cream pie. To make matters even more weird, once he gave up he went to the toilet and spat it out. It’s like what the fuck, why let me blow my load in your mouth if you don’t want it? If you’ve ever given a blow job then you’d know it’s much easier to swallow it than to hold it in your mouth, gargle then rinse. WHo knows, maybe he thought he’d catch something from me if he swallowed. Maybe he likes spitting it out. Maybe it tasted nasty. Too many variables now that I think about it and really I should’ve just asked him at the time. 
So apart from that the sex was great. It was one of those things I had to politely look over. 

Fuck Buddy

My all too long thing I had going with my fuck buddy is finally over. What nipped it in the bud for me was when he told me he’d just got back from Malaysia and had fucked a hooker while there to prove to his brother that he’s straight. 
It was too much information. Like when you ask someone how they are. A simple ‘good, how are you? is all that’s needed, not ‘oh yeah well my mum is back in hospital for more tests so I’m really tired coz I’ve been up all night blah blah’. Stop right there, don’t need to know. It’s the same with a fuck buddy. Come over, minimal pleasantries, fuck, leave. I don’t need to know about how you’re so fucked up that you’ll fuck a hooker because you’re so knee fucking deep in the closet. 

Date

Very recently I had a date. It wasn’t really confirmed as a date because that just seems too formal these days. A drink, a coffee, a movie, dinner. Call it what you will and I’ll call it a date. It all started out with a few messages here and there on a dating website and before you knew it we’d exchanged numbers and arranged to meet for coffee. 
Now I don’t do the whole dating thing very often and I stupidly suggested we have dinner instead of coffee. He agreed. Why was I upping the stakes here? It wasn’t until after I’d done this that I realized just having coffee is a good starting point for a date. You see, if the person is all Melanie Griffith types of ugly then you hastily sip a flat white and make a dash for the door. Over, home, safe. The night will only drag on further if you’re having dinner and then you’re struggling to eat that Japanese pancake and make conversation with Melanie whilst trying not to chuck. That’s only if they’re ugly too. Let’s not forget irreparably fucked-up. I mean, being ugly is one thing but it’s nice to get through at least a coffee with someone and not have the fear of a steaming flat white thrown in your face when you comment on their shoes. 
I decided we’d meet in the city. Another bad mistake according to one of my friends. Apparently I could’ve avoided awkward chit-chat whilst walking to the restaurant and just met at the restaurant. It wasn’t that bad though. 
We bought a bottle of white and went to a nice little place in Chinatown. Another dating tip I’d remembered from one of my friends was if you’re not into them then just get drunk and obnoxious, they’ll be so turned off that they’ll leave. The conversation was polite. I was nervous and couldn’t stop chatting until I realized there was nothing else to say. By this stage we’d drunk the entire bottle of wine or I think I’d drunk most of it. I was pretty wasted and agreed to go to a bar for more. That was even worse than dinner. The conversation was dull and I was throwing back glass after glass of house white. 
We left the bar and then he decided he wanted to go into a bear bar with an upstairs sex den. Just to check it out. We walked around then went upstairs. We wandered around and I considered taking him into a cubicle but thought it was too weird and didn’t quite fit the fantasy first date I had in mind, but does it ever? Thinking back now I should’ve done it. We left and he checked the tram timetable. I was now thoroughly wasted and he’d become slightly hot so I invited him back to mine. He seemed hesitant or embarrassed but said yes. It wasn’t like I was begging, I just don’t know how to call it a night. In a way I almost felt obligated to at least give him a hand-job in a secluded alley. So why can’t I just have a date where I don’t fuck? 
The sex was much like our bar conversation: dull and awkward. I was a bit over it and he asked me if I wanted to come. I was like, yeah I s’pose. So we jacked each other off and he left. 
This is why I don’t date very often. Oh, to top it off, he had a small dick, like a Twirl bar or something. 

Wasp

One day I went to the toilet. I was in a rush because I knew there’d be some explosive diarrea and I’d need to take a shower afterwards. My ass was like a dam, cracked and ready to let the swamp mud flow.

I darted upstairs, whipped off my trackies and jocks then let hell tear me a new asshole.

Done, relief. Then I pissed. While I was pissing I felt a soft tingle on my right elbow. I lifted my arm towards my face to take a closer look and there nuzzling my skin was a wasp.

I yelled. I have a tendency to do this when I get a fright. It’s always a short burst of fear lunging outta my throat. If I were one octave higher I would sound like Drew Barrymore in a b-grade slasher flick.

Without thinking I swept the wasp off my elbow and he was shot across the floor and landed in my undies.

I was still pissing while this happened and I was so startled I’d lifted my ass off the seat and piss started going everywhere.

I was left sitting in stinking piss and shit.

The wasp propped itself up on the edge of my underwear and looked at me.

“Set me free” the wasp said. “If you do, you will be rewarded”.

“with what, honey?”

“No you fool, with riches beyond your comprehension”

“New shoes?”

“Look, set me free and your life will be filled with treasures and beautiful women”.

“I don’t think so buddy, you tried to kill me”

“It was an accident” said the wasp “I thought you were a tree”.

“I have piss running down my thighs, can we talk about this later?”

“If you don’t set me free I will place a curse upon you!”

“Ugly shoes for the rest of my life?”

“OK I don’t know who you are, I just want to get out of this bathroom, it stinks in here, what’ve you been eating, crap? I will place a curse upon your first born child if my demands are not met!”

“Listen Mr Wasp I..”

“My name is Phinneas”

“Whatever, I’m taking a shower, the window is over there, get out”.

“So be it human, a curse upon your first born has been placed! Now where’s that window?”

The wasp ambled towards the window and hit the glass. Insects can be pretty stupid when trying to get out of a house, they always seen to fly into the closed windows.

The wasp eventually died of starvation and the curse was never fulfilled as I am gay and will never have children anyway. 

FASHION LINGO: Relaxed Fit

TRANSLATION: You fat gurl, face it. I guess nothing says comfort like an elasticated waist band & I s’pose nothing says lonely & depressed like sleeping pills and brunch at KFC.