Shortly after Letting Go, I got my Vertical Clitoral Hood repierced. Neighbor Boy missed his small window for anal sex, at least for 2-4 weeks while my VCH was healing. I refused him anal sex without oral sex first, and oral was off the table while my piercing was healing. We still fucked, but less than usual due to my healing piercing.
This worked just fine. My friend Ana was in town for a week, then it was Thanksgiving, so not much time to fuck anyways. On one of the last days before I left for Thanksgiving with the family, Ana and I went to breakfast and she swiped away on Tinder. Ana isn’t on the market per se, she has a boyfriend, but still enjoys swiping through Tinder. She uses it to meet potential models for photoshoots, find fun things to do whenever she’s traveling, meet new friends, and the occasional side piece for her open relationship.
While we were eating, we were talking and I was joking about how my ideal guy would either be a chef or a massage therapist. Moments later she right swiped a chef and matched. “Want me to give him your number?” She asked. I laughed, agreed, and then she said she would give it to him after chatting with him some.
Later that night, I got a text from my brother. He needed me. The boy he used to date that he’s been talking to again was supposed to join us for Thanksgiving, but the boy canceled. My brother was devastated. While I parked by the bar to meet up with my brother, I saw the name “Alex” flash across my notification bar on my phone. I opened the snap, there was nothing significant, just some people hanging out. No one I recognized. Kind of weird for Alex to send it to me. I just shrugged it off and moved on. I went into the bar and hung out with my brother to let him vent over a few drinks.
I was driving, so I only had one while he ordered a couple rounds of shots. He had already been drinking, so it didn’t take long for him to get fully drunk. Once it seemed like he was too drunk to get home, I offered to drive him and his friend Mel to his apartment. When we got to my car, the name “Alex” flashed across my screen again, I opened it just before I started driving them home. Same thing, some random people hanging out. No one I knew or cared about.
Once I dropped my brother and his friend off, I looked through my friends’ snap stories and saw my friend Alex… but his full name was listed just below the other “Alex.” Who the fuck is this “Alex” that’s been sending me snaps? I looked at his story and a few snaps in, I heard his voice, he’s Australian. I figured it out. He and I matched a year earlier on Tinder but never exchanged phone numbers, but did exchange snapchats. Nothing ever came from it then, but he decided to come out of the woodworks for some reason. I let it go for now. It was late, I was tired, I wasn’t looking to start snapping him back yet.
The next day, my family and I were off on our road trip to Virginia for Thanksgiving. I wasn’t intending on filling the long weekend with boys, but somehow it just happened that way, at least talking to boys all weekend. First, The Chef began to text me. This was a weird setup being that he matched my friend Ana and had no clue who I was, so first thing first, he asked for photos. I sent him a few, he sent a few back. We got texting, very basic “What do you do for fun?” “What are you looking for?” “Are you originally from Chicago?” Etc. The texts were fine. Nothing exciting, but he was cute and met my chef requirements.
Later, my family was mostly calling it a night and I was intending on doing the same. That’s when The Australian sent me another snap, this time a selfie with a Happy Thanksgiving sticker. This is the first he revealed himself. Finally, a face to refresh my memory of this tinder match a bit more. Up until this point, I haven’t responded to any snaps he’s sent the past few days. This one though finally prompted a response; a selfie and “Happy Thanksgiving to you too.” He responded with heart eyes and the flirting was on. We messaged back and forth continuously for the next few hours. As I realized that it was nearly 3am and we have been snapping for about four hours, I wrapped up the conversation and gave him my number telling him to text me sometime if he wants to continue this conversation.
The next morning, I woke up to a “Good morning” text from The Australian and the texting was on. The next few days of Thanksgiving break he and I texted basically non-stop. During this time, I hardly heard from The Chef, which was fine, I wasn’t fully into him which was unfortunate because he met my chef requirement. As the week wrapped up, I was more and more excited about The Australian and nearly forgot about The Chef, but once I was headed home, both asked to set up dates, I accepted both. I had to still give The Chef a chance because Ana was excited about him, although I was really only interested in The Australian.
The Chef was easy, he asked for a date and time and that was it. The Australian and I have already formed a strong dialogue with extremely flirty banter and even inside jokes… he wanted to see me the second I got home, but that was when the catch was revealed, he was leaving to go back to Australia for three months two days after I got home. Now I’ve become conflicted; The Australian seemed super sweet and genuine and really wanted to meet me, but then if I meet him there’s already a pre-conceived end or at least a pause while he was back in Australia.
Is it worth meeting someone of romantic interest (not just sexual interest) if you know you would only have two days together? Is two days enough to build any type of foundation to keep us in touch while he’s gone for three months? Is it worth it? I’ve told myself I would never do long distance relationships, but now I’m being faced with a guy who will be living on the other side of the world for three months. Shit. I reluctantly/excitedly agreed to meet The Australian.
I’ve set up two tinder date for when I got back without having to sign onto or swipe on tinder in months. Funny how that shit works out.
Shortly after I bought my njoy butt plug (See Baby Steps to Build Trust), I got The Perfect Triangle… piercing which was not so perfect. I had 8-10 weeks to heal. That meant 8-10 weeks of no oral sex, and being extra cautious of my new piercing. During this time, Neighbor Boy insisted on using the plug regularly. If I was blowing him, he’d tell me to “Grab the plug.” If we were fucking, “Grab the plug.” If I we were taking out my vibes, “Grab the plug.” If we were sexting, he’d tell me to get out my favorite vibe and “Grab the plug.” He didn’t quite push for anal, but he was eager to get me into the sensation and the idea of anal.
Almost 8 weeks of this and it was working. I was really getting into the plug so much so that I started using it on my own time as well. Sometimes, I would get wet and worked up just thinking about it. I craved the full feeling the weighted plug gave me. As 8 weeks came to a wrap, I started to bring up anal to Neighbor Boy, telling him we should try it when my piercing is healed.
There was only a short window of time anal was going to happen. I wanted my triangle to be healed, but shortly after my triangle was healed, I was getting my VCH repierced. Having oral sex on the table pre-anal was important to me. I wanted to make sure I was fully satisfied and at ease before letting him penetrate my ass.
It was late November. We were messaging as per usual, probably even sexting some, almost like our foreplay before we were supposed to hang out that evening. I brought up that we should try anal that night. He was excited, but told me he expects me to have my plug in and vibe going before he got there so I was extra worked up already.
Although I was excited, I was also anxious about the situation and him telling me to get myself ready before he got there was a huge turn off and quite aggravating. Him telling me to start playing with myself before he comes to fuck me can usually be hot, but this time, because it was to prep for anal, it was more upsetting than a turn on.
I told him I wanted him to come eat me and crank up the foreplay and ease me into it. I explained to him I’ve had a bad experience with anal before (kind of alluding to what happened without directly saying I was raped by Roid Douche yet) and that him helping me be comfortable and relaxed beforehand would be very important.
Well… this conversation quickly went south. I was getting more and more anxious and upset and kept pushing what I wanted and he got frustrated and said that “It’s starting to sound like work and I’m not really feeling it for tonight anymore.” Which of course pushed me over the edge and the night was canceled, at least for the moment.
Because of this, I met up with my gay hubby. We went and got coffee and I vented. The more I vented, the more I realized how stupid the argument was. Yes, he was being an asshole, but my anxiety and frustration wasn’t fully explained to him. I was basically freaking out and he (unaware of what actually happened to me) was responding poorly to my unexplained pushiness.
It was an unseasonably warm November day for Chicago. Although anal was off the table, I texted him to say we should take advantage of the nice weather and fuck on the roof because it was probably our last opportunity before Spring. We put our anal argument on pause to talk more about it later and agreed to finally have the roof sex we’ve been talking about since day one.
When he came up, I grabbed a condom and we went straight up to the roof. I locked the roof door behind us, a cautionary measure taken to buy us a little time if someone tried to come up. After some brief making out, he told me to turn around, lift my dress, drop my panties, and bend over on the edge of the roof. I complied. He kissed my inner thighs and made his way to my pussy with his tongue, teasing me, getting me worked up, just barely tasting me.
Right when I thought he’d lick my clit, he stood up, dropped his pants, and put the condom on. He started out slowly inserting his dick little by little, making me want to push my hips back into his. With every thrust he went a little deeper and a little quicker until he was fucking me at that perfect pace. As he fucked me, I looked over the ledge, my heart racing, partially because a slight fear of heights, partially because the adrenaline rushing thinking about how anyone could look up from the street and see me bent over the ledge.
After a few minutes of this rush, he pulled out, laid on the roof and told me to ride him. I listened, straddled him, and rode his cock. He finished, I didn’t. I kissed him softly, then stood up and put my panties back on. He took the condom off and put on his pants. As we walked back inside and headed down the back stairs, he tied up the condom, and shoved it in a pocket of the drooping ceiling. I didn’t realize this until we got back to my room and he told me.
Once back in my room, after he divulged the condom ceiling information and I scolded him, I told him a little more about Roid Douche, I didn’t go into detail, but gave him enough to help him understand why I was upset about our earlier anal discussion. He told me he understood and wants me to be comfortable and wants to make sure it’s something I enjoy.
I want to trust him. I want to be able to get over this fear I have. I want to let go of the past. I want to move on.
Since Roid Douche, anal sex was off the table. I couldn’t bring myself to be comfortable with the idea of letting any guy penetrate my ass again. It took a lot of time and trust for me to even allow any light anal play from my next serious boyfriend, The Man Child (who I dated for six years). In those six years, he asked about anal from time to time because it was something he wanted to try with me, and I kept turning him down. He’d ask why I didn’t want to try it, I explained I’ve tried it before with Roid Douche, but didn’t like it. I didn’t inform him of the rape at that time.
Over the first few years of dating, as The Man Child tried to ease me into the idea by incorporating light anal play from time to time into our sex, he brought it up again, asking if anal sex would ever be on the table. I then explained what had happened with Roid Douche. We had a lengthy conversation that involved me crying about it, him consoling me, and him saying that he’d kick Roid Douche’s ass if he ever came across him. He also threw out there that if anal sex was ever something I would want to try again, he’d obviously be down, but understood why I haven’t wanted to all these years so far.
The Man Child stopped asking about anal since I told him about what happened with Roid Douche, but he still tried to incorporate anal play in our sex. I knew he was secretly hoping he could get me interested in anal. I enjoyed a finger and some ass eating every once in a while, but I was unsure if I was capable of enjoying a cock. I was conflicted. I felt some sort of pleasure from the stimulation of anal play, but I got anxiety thinking about anal sex. I wanted to try it again, but I also didn’t want to relive my experience.
Eventually, probably about four years into dating The Man Child, almost five years after the Roid Douche incident, I told The Man Child I wanted to try anal. He was ecstatic. He did everything right. He incorporated lots of foreplay and oral and warmed me up for anal with some analingus and fingering my ass. He got the lube out and prepped my ass and his dick. He told me he’d go extra slow and all I needed to do was relax.
He got his dick in about an inch and my anxiety kicked in, I started to clench my ass and it started to hurt, and I freaked out, and told him to stop. I teared up and shut down. The Man Child was a bit frustrated, but understanding of the circumstances. He held me, and comforted me, and tried to ease my anxieties. We tried one more time since then, but same thing happened. I couldn’t go through with it and he was ok with not trying anal ever again.
After I broke up with The Man Child, almost three years ago now, I have slept with a lot of guys. Many guys have asked about anal, I tell them it’s not happening because I’ve tried and don’t like it. Every once in a while, a guy will slip a finger in or try to lick my ass and if I show any amount of enjoyment, they push for anal sex. I refrained from telling them what had happened with Roid Douche, but I explain to them that licking and fingering an ass is completely different than having a dick fuck your ass. I say something like, “A finger is much smaller than your dick, I’m ok with and enjoy a finger from time to time, but a dick is a no go. I’ve tried it and don’t like it.” And some of them push it and some of them let it go, but I stayed consistent with my word and wasn’t trying it again.
About a year ago, there was a moment of pure bliss I felt when a guy was eating my pussy and fingering my ass and vagina at the same time. The orgasm was intense and I wanted to recreate that feeling. I bought a small vibe for my ass, not much thicker than a finger, and began incorporating that into my masturbation. Shortly after that, I bought some gradual anal beads, the largest bead was about two fingers thick, and played with those by myself and introduced them with some guys to add to our toy fun.
And then Neighbor Boy came along. He had a good amount of persistence when discussing what is okay under our terms of sexual agreement. He’d push for cumming in my mouth and no condom use, both no goes. He pushed for photos and video, shot down. He pushed for anal, I turned him down. I explained to him that a lot of those things are not for guys I’m just fucking. I have to trust someone before I allow for them to cum in my mouth or go condomless, get photos or video, or before we could even put anal on the table. He then asked how he could build that trust with me. I told him it would take time, communication, and also an eagerness to please me extra in the bedroom.
In those early months of our arrangement, we talked most days and had lengthy conversations about sex, our likes and dislikes, our experiences, our desires, and we communicated when we’re sleeping with other people. We were 100% honest and upfront to one another. He made it a point every time we fucked to try to make sure I was pleased with our sex and we would have discussions usually the day after about it, he’d ask what I enjoyed about it and if there was anything he could have done differently. He took my directions and our sex kept getting better and better.
Over those months, he worked for it. He was eager to build that trust with me so he could get to cum in my mouth, get photos and video, and get anal sex. He was doing a pretty damn good job at it too. The more eager he was to please me and the more effort he put in, the more eager I was to please back. I let him cum in my mouth; something very few guys get to do because I have an aversion to cum. I sent him photos from time to time; I don’t send nudes to most guys, another Roid Douche story behind that one. And then anal… well he still wasn’t getting anal.
We discussed anal sex time and time again, and I told him I’ve tried forever ago but wasn’t into it, but I didn’t tell him about Roid Douche. He then brought up the anal beads and how I like those, and I explained that those are still smaller than a cock, so it wasn’t quite the same still. He kept telling me how he’d make sure I was enjoying it, and I wanted to try, but I still had this intense hesitation.
That’s when I decided to order a large Njoy butt plug. Larger circumference than the anal beads, but still smaller than his dick girth, it would be a good stepping stone to add to our sex to get me more at ease with anal. When it arrived, I kind of got giddy. It was a new toy to play with and I was excited to try it out. Neighbor Boy and I were already planning on hanging out that evening, so I told him I had a surprise for him. When he came up that evening, I unboxed the shiny new toy. I was turned on just by the idea of trying it out.
Keeping it bed side, he got me warmed up. We made out, he worked his way down my neck to my nipples, to my clit with his tongue. He ate me a good while and got my vibe out, getting me extra worked up, and when I was nice and soaking wet, he grabbed the plug. Lubing it up, he inserted it slowly into my ass. A slight tinge of pain hit me, but after the head was inserted, it was all pleasure. He went back to eating me and playing with the butt plug.
I was really enjoying the feeling of the butt plug, but at the same time, I kept getting in my head too much. The pleasure was great, but it was difficult to fully let loose. I repositioned myself and he presented me with his throbbing cock. I took it in my mouth and blew him while I held a vibe to my clit and he played with the butt plug. The vibe and plug sensation while simultaneously blowing him got me extra hot. Soon enough, I was cumming from the combination and trying to keep his dick in my mouth as my body unleashed an intense simultaneous anal/clit orgasm.
Shortly after I came, he grabbed a condom and began to fuck me, butt plug still in. I was double filled and loving it, but it was almost too much. I was still fresh from the recent orgasm and now the butt plug was becoming uncomfortable. Not long of this and I had him stop so I could remove the plug, and got back to fucking.
The next morning, he asked about my thoughts on the butt plug and what I liked and disliked about it. He wanted to know what was working and not working so he could take that into consideration moving forward. I like that about him, he actually asks questions and makes sure what he’s doing is good for me. He doesn’t assume that everything he’s doing works, he wants to learn about what gets me going and wants to make sure I’m enjoying myself.
Since then, Neighbor Boy, although he has been insistent on using the butt plug from time to time to warm me up to anal, didn’t push anal sex any more. He knew that in time, if I wanted anal, I would make it happen. As I told him, baby steps to ease me into it and to build trust and eventually anal might be possible.
Trust, communication, and an eagerness to please are all important elements in any relationship.
*** Note: in case you’re wondering timeline, I got the Njoy butt plug about 10 days before I got my Triangle Piercing, so sex and oral were still ok.
To understand what’s to come, I need to fill you in more on my past. A little over ten years ago, I was dating Roid Douche. When I met him, I was lured in by his muscular build, badass demeanor, and found his sarcastic ass remarks comedic. Over time I realized he wasn’t what I painted him to be and he was really just a fucking prick that I was enamored with because teenage hormones.
Perhaps one day I will tell the full story of how I met him and the ups and downs, but for now I’m only filling you in on how he has impacted me to this day and how recent events that brought memories of Roid Douche back.
We had been dating a few months. We had been saying “I love you.” We spent as much time together as possible. We were inseparable. That’s how it started, but really my perception was skewed by hormones and infatuation. He was the jealous type. He was controlling. He was manipulative. He was a bipolar mess of rage.
Let’s focus on the manipulative and rage aspect for now, I will go in depth another time about the rest. A few months in, a couple weeks of “I love you” later, and still no sex to be had, he started to threaten to break up with me because I was too prude to fuck him. He started to show his true self, but I was in love and didn’t see it. He kept pushing the “I love you” card trying to get me to spread my legs and I kept saying I wasn’t ready and he kept telling me he didn’t know how much longer he could wait.
For my sixteenth birthday, I convinced my mom to let me rent a couple hotel rooms in the city for me and my friends with my sister and sister’s boyfriend as the chaperones. The plan was to go shopping with the girls then meet up with the boyfriends and everyone else at the hotel to drink and party all night. While the girls and I shopped, we each found little black dresses to wear for the hotel party and got all primped and ready for the night.
We made our way back to the hotel, got started on the drinks, and the boyfriends and more followed soon after. We had all the boys drooling over our dolled up looks and little black dresses. Roid Douche couldn’t keep his hands off me. Maybe it was “love,” or maybe it was his possessive nature seeping out as there were other guys giving me hugs to wish me happy birthday.
A few drinks in, the party hardly started, and Roid Douche was getting anxious. His hormones caused a raging mess and he became frustrated as I kept trying to hang out with everyone. It was my birthday party after all and I was the guest of honor, why would I leave the party early? He kept insisting, “Let’s go back to our hotel room to slip you out of that little black dress…” I kept denying him the pleasure.
He eventually got angry and walked out. I followed him to the hall. He threatened to leave, he said he thought he’d get some alone time with me in our hotel room, but I was too busy with everyone else. Obviously the right response to this would have been to tell him to fuck off as it was my birthday and he could suck it, but instead it turned into me tearing up and us fighting, and him apologizing, and then me finally agreeing to go to the room.
I went back into the room and said good night and thanks to a few people, then slipped back out to meet up with Roid Douche in our hotel room. It had two queen beds. We were to share it with my friend and her boyfriend but they were still back at the party. We quickly got to making out, feeling up, and stripping down.
He moved his way from my mouth to my neck down to my nipples and trailed his way to eat me. This was a first. We have made out, he has felt me up and fingered me, I have given him hand jobs, but oral wasn’t something we had done before. Even through all his begging and pleading for sex, eating me out was never on the table.
Tonight was different. He wanted to warm me up for sex. It was obvious. He was fine, nothing spectacular though as we were in high school and although he wasn’t a virgin, his lack of experience showed. Regardless, I was liking it enough. I laid back and closed my eyes and was taking in every lick and kiss, but only a few minutes in and Roid Douche came up from between my legs all huffy, “What’s wrong? Are you even enjoying this? You aren’t cumming yet!” As if I did something wrong. As if I was broken. As if I was incapable of being pleasured by his almighty tongue.
Trying to calm him, I pulled him in to kiss and tell him I liked it. Instead of him going back down to keep eating me, we began making out and then he pushed to get his dick wet and I denied him. The brief moment of calm was overruled by anger again. I couldn’t win. He threatened to leave again and I cried and we fought and finally I convinced him to stay because it was my birthday and it was 3am and there was no way for him to get home. He agreed, but said he was having his dad pick him up first thing in the morning. We went to bed with him angry and me upset and hardly spoke the next morning and he left as he said he would.
As he got up and left early the next morning, my friend and her boyfriend (who must have slipped into the room sometime recently) woke up still very drunk. “Why is he leaving?” my girl asked. I told her he had a family emergency and that his dad came to pick him up. She tried to pry because I was obviously upset, but I tried to play it off as a headache from being hungover. We all fell back asleep and nothing more was said.
After a few days of apologies and I love you’s we made up and were back to normal. And a few more days after that, I caved. I thought I loved him. I thought that maybe all this tension and anger was from us not having sex. I let him take my virginity, on the beige pleather couch, in his garage (aka his man cave), in the dead of winter, freezing cold.
He kissed me briefly, hardly any warming up or foreplay, grabbed a condom, spit on his hand to rub it on his dick, laid on me missionary style, and pushed his cock into my tight vagina. I laid there, staring up at the ceiling over his shoulder, trying to get my mind off the pain and hoping for it to end soon. A few minutes of him gyrating on top of me, he came. After he finished, he pulled his cock out of me and realized among the bloody mess from my torn hymen that the condom broke. Just my luck. First time in and I already have a broken condom story…. two plan B pills and week or so later, sex became more and more regular in our fucked up love story.
A few months later, all the sex, and oral, and exploring of some basic kinks and fetishes, the fighting never stopped and his bipolar roid rage continued. He kept finding things to threaten to leave me over and kept using how much he loved me to get me back. The newest thing he was pushing was anal. He wanted that new tight thing to de-virgin and my ass was calling his name.
He pushed and I told him no. He told me how much he loved me and if I loved him I would give it to him. I still told him no. He continued to push and threatened to leave because I didn’t love him if I didn’t do it. I didn’t want to lose him. We were in love. I was blind. All I could see was the drops of good moments in a vast sea of abusive misconduct.
I caved. I bent over that same beige couch in his garage, presenting him with my ass as he demanded. He spit on his hand, rubbed his cock, and thrusted into my ass. Only one thrust in and I was in too much pain to let it keep going. I wailed an ouch in pain pushing him off me. I pissed off the beast, “What? You let me get started and can’t even let me finish?”
I tried to tell him it hurt and I didn’t want to keep going. He was still angry. “Just let me finish, I will do it slowly. It won’t take long, your ass is so tight.” He pushed me back on the couch, spit some more on his dick, pinned me down and shoved his cock in me and pushed in and out slowly like he said he would, that didn’t help ease the pain. Even as I said stop and no, and as tears ran down my face, and tried to push back, he was too strong, he held me down and he continued to fuck my ass until he came in me. He then pulled out and wiped his dick off.
Still crying, hurt, and shaking, I laid there on the couch withdrawn from Roid Douche. He quickly came to my rescue and wiped my tears with his hands, kissed me, held me and apologized while simultaneously saying it was my fault he got so wound up and that he loved me and didn’t mean to hurt me and that it wouldn’t happen again.
I should have left him long ago. I should have never let it go as long as I did. I should have never dated him in the first place. I wish I would have seen it sooner. I wish my teenage hormones and “love” wouldn’t have blinded me. If only I could go back and take the day I met him back I could avoid giving the manipulative prick my virginity. I could have avoided him manipulating me into anal and avoided the continued anal rape.
From the outside, it was obvious to many of my friends and family that the relationship wasn’t healthy, but no one knew how extremely fucked up it was. I hid how shitty he truly was. I loved him. I didn’t want to lose him. I stayed with him for way too long, and 13 months in, I finally got the courage to end things.
I’ve only told a few people about what happened behind the scenes of our fucked up relationship, now whoever is reading this is part of that small few who know. At least you get the gist of things based off those few instances of emotional and sexual abuse, now multiply that by 13 months. Maybe I will fill you in more later, but those details are necessary puzzle pieces to tell you more about recent events.
Now that the seal on all the feels has been unleashed, there will be more to pour out soon. Until next time…
I’m about a week late on this. A year and some odd days ago, I started The Boys I Encounter. First and foremost, thank you to all of my followers. You have liked and commented and supported my blog, and I am grateful you have been there every step and through my ups and downs. I know that sometimes I go weeks without posting and sometimes I post every day for several days straight. Very inconsistent, but that’s life.
A little over a year ago, I opened my blog with my Introduction and quick follow up to declare I’m Taking a Break from Boys. What sparked this urge to write a one year post was actually a boy I was just beginning to forget. This boy is Sexy Six Pack Boy, he re-added me on snapchat today and I realized it has been just over a year since I spoke to him and that he was the pivotal point in pushing me to my boy break and thus the starting point of The Boys I Encounter.
When I saw his name flash on my screen notifying that he added me as a friend, my heart skipped a beat. I knew from the start when I met him that he wasn’t Mr. Right, but Sexy Six Pack Boy, although this masculine sexual being that I met on Tinder, he was actually genuinely sweet. I am generally good at hiding my emotions and not opening up especially when I know there is no potential for more, but he broke me down, and I began to like him.
Maybe eventually I will write in detail that story, but for now, I will leave you wondering what actually happened. How long did we date? What was it about him that wasn’t perfect? Why did my emotional wall break for him? Why did it end?
Right now, although I liked him back then, if he snapped me or texted me, I don’t think I would go back to him. He already fucked that up and it’s too late. He pushed me into my break from boys and got me writing. So for that, I want to thank Sexy Six Pack Boy. Thank you for getting me expressing my views on sex and life and dating. Thank you for making me realize that it is ok to be completely single sometimes. Thank you for helping me break my emotional wall even if that made me vulnerable. Thank you for making me vulnerable and in turn, I am now stronger. Thank you for teaching me what I really want isn’t you and I shouldn’t settle for something that isn’t right for me. And thank you for adding me back on snapchat a year later so I can be strong enough to turn you down.
I don’t need any boys in my life, for the boys I choose to keep around, keep that in mind. You are a part of my life because I want you there. Even if we just met, even if we are just casual, even if we’re just fucking, even if we’re just talking and have yet to fuck… you are someone I want. You have something I desire. You are someone I like.
Once again, I don’t need any boys in my life, for the boys I decide not to see anymore, keep that in mind. If you hurt me, if I don’t want to see you, if we grow apart, if I tell you to fuck off… please leave me alone. I no longer want you. I no longer desire you. I no longer like you.
Through writing The Boys I Encounter for the past year, I have been able to use my blog as a point of reflection, a way to learn more about myself. I know I am not perfect. I know I go through phases of fucking and taking breaks and phases of writing and not writing. I know I open and close and reopen dating apps. I know what I want with sex and what I don’t want. I know I sometimes get in crazy situations, but I also know I can always walk away and have walked away even mid-fuck. I know that I love sex.
The biggest revelation I have found (maybe not associated with my writing, but still important) is that I am leaning more and more toward non-monogamy or polyamory. I don’t think I can be with one person for the rest of my life without the freedom to fuck whoever I please. I am realizing that I crave sex with various people. I am realizing I am good at understanding the difference between sex and intimacy and am capable of separating the two. I am realizing I want intimacy with someone who I can be this open sexual being with. I want someone who can accept me and my sexual needs. I want someone who doesn’t want me to change.
I want intimacy, sex, and freedom. I want to be unapologetically me.
I was trying to get caught up chronologically with my encounters, then got too involved with Turning Fantasy into Reality with J Reed…. so let’s rewind a few months. Not long after the Exclusive Fuck Buddies? conversation with Neighbor Boy, my other guys in rotation were falling off and becoming less frequent. Not because of Neighbor Boy, just a natural progression. I decided this was perfect timing to take a bit of a break and not look to rebuild my rotation.
Several months earlier, I got a vertical clitoral hood piercing (VCH), and since then, I have been dying to get another genital piercing and I’ve become obsessed with the idea of getting a triangle piercing. A VCH is a piercing that goes through the clitoral hood skin and sits vertically with the jewelry resting on top of the clitoris, and can be a very stimulating piercing if done properly. A triangle is a piercing which goes across behind/beneath (placement depends on your anatomy) the clitoris from side to side, and is said to stimulate the clitoris from a spot which is never stimulated, literally the back of your clit. With a lack of boys, this was the perfect time to get my triangle piercing. No boys (aside from Neighbor Boy) means it would be easier to avoid sex for the initial healing period.
I got to researching the triangle piercing more looking up stories and information and videos. As I did my research, I found a diagram of proper placement of the VCH piercing. I instantly felt the need to look at my own VCH piercing. I got my hand mirror out and stripped off my pants and panties, spread my legs, lifted my clitoral hood and examined my piercing closer. I quickly panicked as I saw how low inside my hood my piercing was done. I grabbed a cotton swap and poked inside my hood more to see how much space there was above the piercing and came to the conclusion that my piercing was too low and to the left. Think diagram B below.
Because of the website I found this diagram through, I decided to get in touch with Elayne Angel, genital piercing guru. She literally wrote the Piercing Bible. I sent her photos of my VCH and additional photos to get a consultation to see if my anatomy is built for a triangle piercing. She confirmed, my VCH is too low and I am built properly for a triangle piercing. Yay!
Elayne has a list of piercers she recommends, I originally got my VCH done at the studio she recommended, but by a different piercer. I’m not sure if it was the piercer’s fault that I got pierced too low and to the left, or if it’s because I nearly kicked him in the face as he pierced me. Being that the kick came from the pain, I’m guessing it was him and not my kick. To avoid having this piercer, I called the studio and asked when the other piercer is available. I was told only Sundays and Mondays.
I made note of the piercer’s availability, looked at my calendar for work, my period, plans, and figured out I should get it done in two weeks. I was pushing to get it before my next period and also before it got too cold to wear just leggings as jeans would not be ideal for a healing genital piercing. As I planned this, I also realized that the triangle piercing has a minimum of a 2-3 month healing time, but could go longer. Fuck!
The VCH was only a 2-3 week healing time, so moderately easy to not care if I wasn’t getting eaten or fucked for a few weeks. However, 2-3 months is a long time to not get eaten out or fucked properly. With healing genital piercings, you definitely can’t have oral sex, unless you use a dental dam, but that’s not happening, doesn’t seem fun. You can have protected sex, but only after the first week or so once the piercing isn’t tender anymore, and even then, it has to be super gentle sex to avoid harming the piercing. Boring.
This was going to be a tough few months, but I was determined to get the piercing, so I texted Neighbor Boy and told him we have only two weeks to fuck and I called in a few nights of convenient oral. Some really good oral was necessary, it’s my favorite part about sex and I was giving it up for 2-3 months. Neighbor Boy complied and made sure I came and came again before my set piercing day.
At the moment, I already had 14 piercings including my VCH, so a genital piercing isn’t new to me, but this piercing definitely got me more anxious than any other piercing. Like my VCH was nerve wracking because it was my first genital piercing, but after reading up on it, it seemed to be the easiest and least painful of the genital piercings being that it’s such a thin piece of skin. The triangle is a more intense piercing. It is a greater amount of flesh, plus it’s very close to the clitoris, so if it’s done wrong, it can fuck shit up. Further, based on the placement, it needs a custom piece of jewelry to fit your anatomy so it isn’t too loose and moving a lot, and so it isn’t too tight and pulling on the piercing. It should lie flat against your body between your inner and outer labia.
Going in, I was already nervous, but when I told the receptionist I was there for a triangle piercing, she asked what that was, I had to tell her it was a genital piercing. Obviously she isn’t the person piercing me, but it’s not reassuring that she didn’t know what it was when she works at a tattoo and piercing studio. I had my gay husband with me, he tried to distract me. We gossiped and waited over an hour. It was a busy day for the studio, there were a few people ahead of me. The longer I waited, the more nervous I got, but I wasn’t walking out. I was determined.
As the piercer came out and called my name, my heart sped up. It was about to happen, I was about to get my triangle. My gay husband came back with me, and before I stripped down, the piercer asked if I wanted him to be in the room. I hesitated, although it was nice of my hubby to be there, I thought being alone would be best. With my VCH, Ana was there, and I actually think having her in the room made me more nervous. Being alone, for some reason, was less nerve wracking.
My gay hubby left and waited in his car. I stripped off my pants, and as I sat up on the piercing bed, I told the piercer about the VCH piercing and said I think it’s too low. He looked at it, said it looked fine and said it’s where the lower ball hits that matters, but if I’m not satisfied, he would re-pierce it for me at a later date. I told him I have consulted with Elayne and that she even agreed that it’s too low and to the left.
In my head, I was a little concerned about this comment that it only matters where the ball falls, the diagram and text from Elayne’s website fully explains that it’s how much of the bar touches the clit, you want as much contact with the jewelry to the clit as possible. The ball isn’t the only part of the jewelry. Perhaps it’s that he is a guy and doesn’t have a clitoris so he doesn’t fully understand the importance of the placement, I let it slide as Elayne recommended him.
Without asking, he grabbed his cellphone and took a picture. I was a little offended by this, he didn’t even inform me that he was taking a picture, I didn’t say anything. After the fact, he then explained that he is sending the picture to the other piercer to inform him I want it re-pierced. He said either of them could re-do it for me and then he took out the jewelry. He also sent me the photo so I could use it as a reference if I came back and had the other piercer pierce me.
We then moved onto the triangle piercing. At no point during this did I feel like he was unprofessional, but he didn’t seem to talk or explain much. He began examining my anatomy and as he was pinching behind my clitoris with his fingers he confirmed that I am built for the piercing. All seemed good. On the tray next to the piercing bed he had already prepped the needle, the piercing clamp, and the jewelry.
He clamped the skin behind my clit, took some time repositioning it to make sure my clit was fully above the clamp, told me to take a deep breath in and out. As I exhaled he swiftly pushed the needle through my skin. I tensed up slightly, but didn’t flinch or nearly kick him in the face like I did for my VCH with the other piercer. He examined my piercing and said it might be the most perfect triangle he has done yet. He handed me a mirror and I looked at it, I was still on a bit of a head rush from the adrenaline of the piercing. If he said it was his most perfect triangle, then why wouldn’t I be happy with it? It appeared to be right, so success.
The first day was tough, I was extra careful every time I sat down and walked all bull legged for the rest of the day. Day two, the tenderness was significantly less and I was able to even cross my legs. I was pretty pleased by this, however I noticed something was off. When I went to wash it on day two, I realized I could feel the bar through my skin. In my research, from what I read on Elayne’s site, it clearly states that the piercing is behind the clitoris, so being that I could feel the bar, it must be too low. I also realized that the balls of the jewelry were too tight on my labia and basically holding my labia shut making it difficult to wipe after peeing.
I quickly went to my room took photos of the fresh piercing, wrote basically a novel about my experience and what I think was wrong, and sent it to Elayne. She assured me that the piercing looks good, that sometimes the piercing is pierced lower if it can’t safely be pierced behind the clit, but that this would be what she calls a biangle and that she usually consults her piercee about this before doing the piercing. My piercer didn’t say anything, he just went ahead and did it, so this now added to the frustration. She did agree that the jewelry was too tight and I should get it widened, but that was all that was needed.
It was Tuesday, I had planned on going in on Sunday to see my piercer so he could widen it and so I could inquire about the placement. I wanted to know why he didn’t pierce it higher. I was sure I could pinch behind my clit and there should have been a significant amount of space to pierce up higher.
A couple days past, I caved. The pain of the jewelry being tight on my labia was too much. It felt as if the balls were pinching so tight that the jewelry was pulling the piercing. Not fun at all. I went in on Thursday and had the other piercer widen the jewelry. When I went in to get the jewelry widened, I spoke to the other piercer briefly mentioning my concern of how low the piercing was, but he said it looked perfect and that the piercing is meant to be at the base of the clitoral hood where it meets the labia. Based off this description, yes, the piercing was correct. He loosened the jewelry, the pain and tightness was instantly relieved, but I still left unsure about the piercing.
I did more research and found the description he gave me on bmezine.com stating, “The triangle piercing is a piercing that passes underneath the clitoral shaft…The piercing is so named because the tissue at the point where the inner labia and hood meet feels like a triangle when pinched.” I compared it to Elayne’s site, and she clearly states, “A triangle is a horizontal piercing behind the clitoris, at the base of the hood tissue where it forms from the body.”
So I got a triangle, in accordance with the first definition, but I wanted it based off Elayne’s definition. Elayne wrote the Piercing Bible. She also was taught the triangle by Lou Duff, the inventor of the triangle piercing. Of the two, I believed Elayne’s definition is more accurate. This was frustrating because now I knew that even if I fought it, my piercer was right in some manner. He did the piercing I asked for, how was he to know I wanted it pierced by a different definition of the piercing?
Frustrated, I sent the bmezine link and diagram to Elayne and said that it seems like there’s another definition of the triangle piercing and perhaps I wanted what bmezine calls a deep hood piercing. She said she has never heard of a deep hood piercing, but she says it is closer to where the triangle is meant to be pierced and sent back a revised triangle diagram with a dot of where a triangle piercing should be pierced.
After a bit of consulting with her, she told me that my piercing was fine and it is possible that my piercer just couldn’t safely go higher. Although I sent her photos of my fingers pinching behind my clit, she said she couldn’t confirm it via email, that it is something she would have to feel in person to confirm. I arranged to get a proper triangle with her if I could safely get it done and decided to keep the “triangle” I got done by my piercer.
I spent the next few days examining the piercing and over thinking it. I wasn’t happy, but I already went through the pain of getting it done and I was already planning another piercing with Elayne. As I examined it, I noticed the piercing didn’t lay flat against my vulva like it should. I also noticed a small tear. Was my piercing moving? I went in, talked to my piercer, explained I thought my piercing was migrating. He looked and told me that was a natural crease, not a tear.
He then realized that when the other piercer widened the jewelry, he bent it, it was no longer a flat ring, it was warped. He swapped it out for a larger piece of jewelry. I started to explain my concerns about the piercing placement, and he said that the placement is perfect, but if I’m not happy with it, the piercing is guaranteed, but he wouldn’t re-pierce it. He said if I wanted, the other piercer could re-pierce it. I wasn’t going to let that happen. So at that moment, I retreated. I agreed to just keep the piercing. Once again, I was already talking to Elayne to get a second triangle higher up. I was frustrated, but I was also tired of obsessing and arguing about the piercing.
Looking back at it, I should have thought it was weird how the piercer described the VCH saying it was ok and it is just based on where the ball sits. I should have been concerned when he didn’t discuss the placement of the piercing. I should have been concerned that he already had a piece of jewelry waiting, he didn’t measure my body at all to custom fit the jewelry resulting in too tight of jewelry. I should have known something was off, but I didn’t go with my gut. I went ahead and got the piercing because it should have been right. Elayne recommended him. He said it was the most perfect triangle he has ever done. It should have been perfect, but it wasn’t.
All of this pain and frustration just in the first two weeks. I was upset and a bit deterred, but now it was time to be optimistic. I will be getting pierced by Elayne, genital piercing guru, come summer. She will do it right. Now it’s time to heal. Now I have to avoid oral and sex. Fuck! This was going to be a long couple months.
P.S. A short post from a few months ago you might like, I had an Orgasm Dream as a result of refraining from all things sex the first few weeks of getting my Triangle.
Yesterday The Boys I Encounter got 208 views with only 19 visitors. Not much going on in the likes or comments department, which makes me feel a little unloved compared to the number of views. Either there is a glitch, or someone in France really likes my blog. I’m going to pretend that it’s the latter of the matter and wonder… who is The Silent Observer? Are you a voyeur? Maybe a secret admirer? Are you shy? Why no likes or comments?
If it’s not a glitch, and there really is someone out there in France who viewed The Boys I Encounter 185 times, please say hi next time you want to stalk my blog. I don’t bite… much. 😘