Sex is for Losers (shut up)

We are the Unfukd. We have no sex, and it's not our choice. If we could be getting some hot, sweaty ass, we totally would be doing so. But we can't, so we're bitching about it.
We know you understand. And if not, go fuk yourself -- because God knows we can't do it.

two virgins

I have been a virgin all my life (which still makes me cry in fetal position at night from time to time), and when I started school and met a young man who was interested in me, I thought to myself "This is it...my virgin days are over!"...boy was I wrong! Not only did this "buddy" of mine decide that we should only be "friends with benefits," but he also goes on to announce to me that he was in fact a virgin as well!

This came as a surprise to me because he didn't have the "look" of a virgin...AND he's 19 years old! The average age that a guy usually experiences his "first time," is 16 or 17, and here's this bmx/hardcore looking dude who hadn't even SEEN a vagina yet!

One night, we actually tried having some hott n' heavy sex. He actually proclaimed to me that he'd like to "...slide it in for two or so minutes." Now, I was horny as hell so I agreed.

Now picture this; two virgins who have no fucking clue in the world as to what they're doing, slowly taking their clothes off and nervously staring at eachother. Got it? Good. Now, picture the girl (aka me), nervous as hell cause she's thinking to herself "Is this going to hurt...I think i'm going to die." And the boy pulling his little weiner out and holding it in his hand like it is a foreign object.

"You ready?"
says the girl

"ok."
says the boy

Now, try to picture the boy slowly "sliding it in there," and the girl, with no satisfaction whatsoever on herface, for she cannot feel anything, screaming "In more! In more!"

*1 minute later*

boy: sorry I couldn't get it in there
girl (me): It's okay. I really wasn't in the mood anyway.

hmmmmm...And to think that I lied to my roomates about no longer being a virgin.

this post courtesy of kittiefan17

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close call!! Phew!!

I got my new birth control shot Friday and then ended my new fledgling relationship Sunday! Yay me! And to think I was on the verge of possibly losing my Unfkd status.

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Laid Lately..

guess that it would be more appropriate to wait for a time when I am truely unfuked.. but I guess that for now I can try to relate and discuss my future of potential self-loving.

I'm living with a girl right now, but more or less, she's sexing-it-up more with different guys rather than with me. I'm not totally unfuked.. just mainly unfuked. Considering the fact that she's so in to the "swinging singles" lifestyle, maybe it's a good thing that I'm not getting laid all the time by her.

I had more of a point with this, but I guess that I forgot what I was really aiming for.

Well, no worries -- I have a deep-seated suspicion that I will be back on track soon enough and I will truely be worthy of being a part of unfuked in the near future.

this post courtesy of asthmaust

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A Lifetime of Kisses Lost

The doctor told him we had to start using protection. Until my chemo works, at least. Like we used to in the beginning all those years ago. It’s to his favor actually. They give him another minute. Or two. And we have TIVO, so it’s not like he’ll miss anything.

But I reminded him that they bother me – most of them.

He didn’t really care. He just stopped by the drugstore and bought the cheapest brand. “They’re all the same, what difference does it make.”

So I put him off – and shopped for my own. The ones that cause the least amount of reactions.

Tonight there were no more excuses I could make. Because he never sees the tears in my eyes, and he never hears me crying late at night when the house is dark and I sit in the big chair alone watching the moon. So I pulled out what I had purchased and replaced the one he made ready. He looked at me funny but accepted it.

And somewhere in the suspended seconds between him removing my clothes and ramming it home, I realized this may be all there will ever be. This may be all the intimacy anyone will share with me for the rest of my life. Perhaps I should be more grateful that he wants me at all. And oblivious to the truth, he took the silent tears for pleasure.

Me. Needing, wanting the touch, the electricity that passes between two lovers, the tension, the passion, the hearts of desire. Me. That could spend hours just stroking and playing and cuddling, practicing and perfecting the art of love. Me. That can share a lifetime of emotion in a single kiss. Me. That could make love in a different way every night for a year, waking up content every morning with strong arms holding me, protecting me, wanting me.

I wish I didn’t know how wonderful it could be. Then I wouldn’t miss it so very much.

this post courtesy of nicim

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the pink microphone

Last weekend I went to this musical called "Menopause: The Musical". Of course it was right up my alley since I'm 48 and experiencing all the crap associated with menopause. Emotional highs and lows (and I'm bipolar already! So double treats on that one!!). Night sweats. Chin hairs. Feeling undersexed. Feeling oversexed.

Well, there's this one number in the show about the usefulness of a vibrator during these trying times. The woman singing the song had supposedly never used a vibrator before, but by the end of the number was singing "Glory Hallelujah" to our favorite B.O.B. (battery operated boyfriends). And her microphone, I guess, in a tribute to good old BOB, was pink and rather phallic shaped.

Of course, all us overheated, undersexed/oversexed ladies knew what THAT was. Like d'uh. And the way she used it in the musical number. It was so obvious and really funny and very delightful.

But what was really funny to me, was afterwards I was walking out behind two ladies who were talking about the show, and about that number in particular. The one woman was laughing about the phallic shaped microphone and the other woman? Totally clueless. She had no idea that the pink microphone shaped like a freakin' penis was supposed to be, well, a freakin' penis.

Honestly lady. Come to my house. I'll show you a large collection of my (ahem) "pink microphones". Sigh.

this post courtesy of awittykitty

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sex for soldiers?

You know, someone should start a Sex for Soldiers drive. There's just too many horny male soldiers out there, and they just end up harassing female soldiers. Who are not interested. At. All.

Just a thought.

this post courtesy of bassclargrrl

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I did my duty...

I did my duty and proved to the Army that I'm not pregnant.

Which isn't that spectular considering that I haven't had sex for, gee, eight months?

Stupid Army.

this post courtesy of bassclargrrl

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not cutting it

You know, webcams and microphones just don't cut it.

I WANT THE REAL THING.

Please?

this post courtesy of bassclargrrl

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I deserve it

I turned down sex from a really hot guy Tuesday night.

I DESERVE to be unfukd!

this post courtesy of cdnfoxygirl

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You better be glad you didn't pass that on to me!

Oh, joy.

He wanted to "kick it old-school" last night.

I. Think. Not.

Excuse me, sir, but I find it hard to be intimate with someone who (just a few hours ago) defended one of the tarts he used to run around with...whilst sleeping with me.

Yup, the one with the incredibly nasty snatch. That would be otherwise known as a STD.

Don't bring any of that crap home to Momma thankyouverymuchasswipe.

Jeez.

this post courtesy of d1mndn3r0ugh

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Why me?

I've been going through one hell of a midlife crisis since I got laid-off from my job. I'm battling depression and frustration and loneliness. I met a guy recently who managed to pile a whole new shitload of head games on me before I realised what was going on. Thanks to my current bout of unemployment-induced low self-esteem I went out looking for a one-nighter a couple of weekends ago. Instead I met this really cool guy and we spent most of the weekend together all the way through that Monday and he treated me like a queen and ... it was simply wonderful. I mean he was all over me, cuddling, spooning, stroking my hair, rubbing my feet, taking me out to nice restaurants, etc. Before he left, he insisted on making plans with me for upcoming social time, promised to call me from work later that night ... and I haven't heard from him since. That was almost two weeks ago. WTF? I wasn't looking for a lifetime commitment, just a continuation of the fun we were having.

this post courtesy of danjerus

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A love doll for his taste

ah, i see it's been a while since this lovely place has seen an update. let me welcome you all back and ask - how are you doing?

you already know my story. it bears no repetition here and if you want to tune in, there's always the other site.

but let's talk about what we talk about here.

it's been thirteen months since a muscled figure curled round mine, holding me in strong arms. thirteen months since a heartbeat merged with mine. thirteen months since anyone moved the hair from my face, kissed my lips and said i love you. thirteen months since my body was anything more than NiciM, a real-as-life human sex doll, to be poked and prodded at will in the most emotionally degrading ways.

they say the opposite of love is not hate. it is indifference.

"i wanna have sex tonight", he demands. at least it's only four minutes long.

this post courtesy of nicim

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in bed with a boy, but not the boyfriend.

I crawled into bed this morning with a half-nekkid boy.

We didn't do it. We didn't even kiss, touch, or snuggle.

Grr. If he was the boyfriend, I would have been ripping clothes off.

this post courtesy of bassclargrrl

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Three hundred and counting?

Yes, poppets - STILL UNF*KED. My beautiful Findlay is still a no-show and although Mr. Lucky informed me recently he has an RX for Cialis (wink, wink) I can only say EEEWWWW.

There was almost a ray of hope and light when my best friend called. I'm going to Tampa in mid-March to teach a class for her country club members (why couldn't it have been in January I ask myself frequently as cold winds howl). It seems there's a fella who wants to meet me. He is on her bowling league (now, now, don't pre-judge...after all, she's on the league too and quite a hottie). He's about 46 or so, muscular, and quite attractive.

Apparently, a few days ago, having had a beer or two or three, he made a pass at my girlfriend. She turned him down flat, then suggested he could take me out for dinner when I arrived. After a few questions - he proudly suggested that he would be a good catch....after all, he's made love to over 300 women in his life.

"300?" Bobbi questioned, "how do you know...do you keep count?"

"Well" he sheepishly replied, "sorta."

Only 300? Sorry, Bobbi. I don't do amateurs.

this post courtesy of nicim

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He won't do me

So I was a little pleased that when I was given permission to post here I actually started getting laid again. A lot. For a few weeks. And this was way back in November.

The first weekend was my jacuzzi bus party weekend where I was able to get it on in said jacuzzi with several people all at once. tee hee. (ok, ok. truth be told there was only actual sex with one of the men in the tub)

Then with one of the people that was on the bus for the ride during the bar party (oops, not supposed to do that in a public place!) and again when we got to where we were spending the night.

The next weekend was my birthday where I got to play with one of the boys I had met the weekend before but didn't get to play with. And oh did we play.

The weekend (or maybe two) after that found me with some one nighter from a local bar. He was one of those never quit boys. It was nice, but tiring.

Since then I haven't gotten anything at all save for what I've given myself. And seeing that I'm working midnights and completely exhausted, even that isn't much at all.

I should be pleased since I will be seeing my EnglandBoy soon. We'll fool around loads, but not have sex. It's just habit now. He won't do me. So insulting, but true.

I'd rape him but as soon as the actual intercourse bit comes up, he falls down.

It makes me feel so great.

this post courtesy of cdnfoxygirl

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OUCH!

First, a little recap of what I posted in another forum:

Last April I was chatting with the son of an English friend of mine at our pub. My friend lives here, his son lives in England and was just visiting. It was his last day in Houston. The son tipsily confided in me late in the evening: "I'm 23, I'll be 24 this month . . . and I'm still a virgin! How SAD is that??" I smiled gently, took his hand, looked into his eyes, and said simply: "That changes tonight." That popping sound later in the night? his cherry.

With me thus far? good.

So, the young man was back in Houston over the holidays and, of course, he was dying for Round Two. Let me tell you this: sex with a drunken 24-year old who cannot climax can be REALLY painful. And expensive in terms of changing condoms every time you think he's finally going to give up and let you get some sleep. And now, I think I have a bladder infection due to his over-enthusiastic attempts.

Yes, this IS as bad as not getting fucked.

He'll be back in April ... I think maybe I should leave town.

this post courtesy of danjerus

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Tis Better to Give, and Up Yours Santa

Betcha didn't know you could be quite f*d being unfukd.

Santa started in on me months ago. He's in collusion with the rain gods, and the wind gods, and the fire gods, and pretty much every other god there is. They got together and decided NiciM has obviously been a very bad girl the last year.

Some people would have said being bad is good. But these gods? Puritanical farts that they are, started in on me in August. And I remain unfukd (or is that f*d - sorry I keep getting mixed up)and will probably remain so for all of 2006 as well.

And Christmas? Hey, I would have welcomed even a lump of coal in my virtual stocking, because it would at least have been something.

Oh yeah, the joy of the holiday is in giving isn't it. Must remember giving. (Hey, wait a minute. Mr. L receives....I give. or am I confusing taking with giving....oh, never mind.)

Well, gotta go cook Mr. L's holiday ham and wrap the presents Mr. L bought for other people and won't wrap himself. ("can't i just put a bow on the plastic bag they can in?").

And listen to him brag to the dinner guests about how he's creating a trust for his son and grandson and putting everything he owns into it - including the business I helped build that pays my salary and the house I live in and pay half of. Well, well, f*d again!!

And I really hope Santa's not gettin' any from Ms. Claus so I can honestly say "Go F*K yourself, Fat Boy." And that's just the mood I'm in.

this post courtesy of nicim

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no one fuked Santa

Dear Santa,

There is no Latino named André under my tree. I'm very disappointed.

Bad Santa. Did no one fuk Santa?

this post courtesy of bassclargrrl

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Merry Christmas to who?

I need to get laid. Desperately. I'm starting to have dreams about it. Two nights ago I dreamed that I was having sex with a black man, we'll just say it was VERY satisfying. Oh but then I have to wake up to reality.

It's been since the middle of JULY. 5 months. 5 whole months of no loving. And it's not because I haven't recieved offers, I have indeed, but I don't want them. I want MY man. You know, the one that's stationed in Germany right now. He keeps sending me pictures of himself, and I keep staring at them and remembering the good times. This does not help as I have another YEAR if I wait for him...

Santa, could you please bring me a ticket to Germany? I'll be a VERY good girl when I get back.

Signing out as unfukd, still.

this post courtesy of soxconfused

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my Christmas wish

Dear Santa,

Since I know you bypass customs and immigration and all that visa crap at every country you visit every year, I was wondering if you could do me a favor.

See, I know you visit Brazil before Ohio because parts of Brazil are three hours ahead of Ohio. And it only makes sense to visit Brazil first, if you're going to travel the entire globe in one night. Anyways, while you're there, if you could pick up André and take him along for the ride until Ohio, I'd be forever grateful.

The whole visitor visa thing and the airplane thing are just too much of a hassle for this Christmas. And the only thing that either of us wants for Christmas is to fuk like little horny bunnies. And go to the movies, or something else semi-normal. But the three-month wait for a visitor visa is kind of annoying.

So, Santa, could you do it? Please??

this post courtesy of bassclargrrl

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Dear Santa, This year I want...

It's been so long since I've been one of the *lucky* ones hat I can't even count that high anymore...

Maybe Santa will be nice to me and bring me a lil' piece o' a$$ for Christmas... I'm not even asking for a marathon here...

Just something more than the 2-3 minute jobbies that I've been relagated to getting lately -- that is when I get it at all -- ...

Soo... That's what I'm asking Santa for this year...

Damn... I sure hope it's not too late...

this post courtesy of fluttrbykiss

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useless greenery

The most useless thing in my house right now:

the mistletoe.

'Nuff said.

this post courtesy of bassclargrrl

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40year

Hey you unfukers, You guys have got to see The 40 Year Old Virgin. That is the funniest movie i've seen all weekend.

this post courtesy of freefall74

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phone sex != sex

Although it still counts as being fuked, phone sex is nowhere near as satisfying as being fuked.

Man. I want fuked. For real.

this post courtesy of bassclargrrl

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if he gets any, so help me...

I believe there are few things worse than hearing your boyfriend say "I'm dressed to kill!" right before he announces that he's going out to a club.

We're not even on the same side of the equator.

Which means that my boyfriend is dressed to kill, and I can't even enjoy it. Or nice *ahem* after effects.

Fuk!

this post courtesy of bassclargrrl

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I've come to share my tale of unfukd woe.

I broke up with my boyfriend a few weeks ago, so obviously there's
no fun going on around here. There wasn't much fun going on before the breakup either. I'm a mom and it's just bad form to have your b-friend over for some fun times when you've got the perfect unfukd combination of paper thin walls and children.

However, me and the man have somewhat gravitated back towards each other
due to a pathetic lack of other people to hang out with.

I've always had an open door policy with the man because he works crazy
hours. Since the breakup, he's taken advantage of it a couple times--not to have SEX, but to talk and other boring unfukd activities.

Which brings me to the other night.
The man got in my bed at some ungodly hour. I don't know why exactly--maybe
he had a bad night, or maybe he was hoping to talk to me, couldn't wake me
and fell asleep.

It doesn't matter why he was in my bed. The fact of the matter is, when I woke up in the morning, HE WAS THERE. I was walking on water I was so happy. A man! In my bed!

Anyone who knows me, knows that I am not a morning person. There's nothing
that can cure my morning crabbiness other than two cups of coffee and
maybe a clove cigarette, if I'm lucky enough to have one lying about
and it isn't ten below freezing outside. Just picture the worst monster ever and that's me in the morning.

But this morning? This morning I was clicking my heels and swinging around
like Ginger Rogers in glee. While the man snoozed, I packed up lunches lickety-split, tamed bed head with a smile on my face and glee in my heart.
I've never been happier to drop those kids off at school.

I returned home and went up to the bedroom. I stripped down to a cami
and my panties--no, screw the panties, we aren't messing around here.

I AM GETTING LAID! Wooooooo!

So I get in bed and snuggle up to the man in much anticipation of the wonder that is ex sex. There's nothing in the world better than ex sex. It's having someone who knows you, knows how to get you going and get you to your happy place, combined with that slightly taboo feeling of doing the nasty with someone you might not should.

But, I'm not thinking about the ramifications of ex sex. I'm thinking about sexual fulfillment. That's what matters here, right?

I worked it. I snuggled and I caressed and I massaged.

I'm not saying there weren't obvious signs of positive response. But, when the man rolled over to look at me, he noticed a zit on my chest and said, "Ohhhh!" before digging into it with lots of disgusting satisfaction.

I couldn't believe it. There I was, naked and ready, and he wants to pop a zit?

Unfortunately, the story does not have a happy ending. Which is obvious, because otherwise I wouldn't be here.

I remain unfukd.

this post courtesy of dandydandy

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Bad Sex is worse than No Sex

My sex drive is officially AWOL . . . which is probably an oxymoron of some kind, but fuck it. I broke up with my last boyfriend roughly 6 weeks ago and I haven't had sex since. Not because I can't or haven't received offers that normally I could/would have taken but because I simply don't feel like getting laid. This last guy? he was way younger than me and had the perfect cock. He was also the.worst.fuck.ever. I'm talking no kissing, no cunnilingus, no doggie style!!! Foreplay consisted of him laying on his back, getting an erection, putting my hand on it, and then literally rolling his dead body weight on top of me and humping for 3-5 minutes. Now and then I'd get on top which is my least favourite position but I had to try to shake things up. But there was NEVER any doggie style. This guy was 28-years old and all he could say was "I'm old-fashioned" when I would try to do anything that did not follow the specific description above. I kid you not. I also was not permitted to initiate the sex act, ever, because then he'd whimper and say he felt pressured. Fun times.

After you get emotionally battered by somebody you truly liked for a while and you witness them do some truly disgusting things while drinking (like shit themselves in your bed), your sex drive tends to take a sabbatical without bothering to ask if you mind.

this post courtesy of danjerus

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have a spanking christmas...

Ooh! It's my first entry in the unfukd arena! *steps gingerly into the spotlight*

Okay, introductions over *camp wave* I will now tell my story.

It involves a nice girl, me (Mr. Smash) and me (again) being such a very stupid, idiotic, thoughtless twat.

Picture the scene: Mr. Smash in heavy metal club, moshing to some tunes, finds himself being given the eye by a babe, who I must admit, was certainly one up from your average gum-chewing fifteen year old slut dressed in ripped jeans with a very bad black-dyed hair cut. (Not that I had any objection to them when I was fifteen myself, mind, but I think at 27 that would be more than a little tacky. And also illegal.)

I buy her a drink, and we get talking, and basically, without any further messing about, we go to the bathroom of the club and she gives me some attention of the open-mouth-round-love-truncheon variety.

We go back to her place and get down to real business, a situation that has been repeated several times over the past two weeks.

Now, you may be thinking, "how is this being unfukd?" Wait for it, people. It's coming. Or not, as is now the case.

I went to see aforementioned babe yesterday, and we sat and had a chat over coffee, (no we didn't fook) and, though any readers of my diary might not believe this, I said that as neither of us wants anything serious at the moment, (she has recently split from a long term guy, and I'm just too fucking lazy to consider anyone else other than myself) we should just remain friends, as I didn't want her to be uncomfortable and think that I was just using her for sex.

Where oh fucking WHERE did this moral stance come from all of a sudden? Past entries of mine tell of being given blow jobs in tacky bathrooms of clubs and that type of thing. Hell, I even (nearly) had a relationship recently, and when it ended my thoughts were "well at least it provided some good fucks."

So now I am sat here, writing this entry, when I could so easily be round at a babes and giving her a seeing to with no strings, but I can't because I decided to discard alley-cat morals in favour of a halo.

I could have backtracked easily, but she texted me to say that she was really happy with the fact I decided to be friends with her rather than just be a "typical" dude looking for casual no-frills sex. So now I can't.

BUT I JUST WANNA BE A "TYPICAL" DUDE WHO WILL FUCK SOMEONE AND THEN DISREGARD THEIR FEELINGS WITHOUT A CARE!!!

I've let down my brothers, the world over.

I deserve nothing but coal and shitty warm beer for Christmas this year.

I suspect I will welcome 2006 in by spanking the monkey sadly in front of the Christmas tree. Though perhaps not while my grandmother and other relatives are present.

this post courtesy of smashthegas

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Does this mean I'm still unf*ked?

Less than 18 hours after he leaves town on business, I arrive. Just what do you suppose are the odds that two people, 3000 miles away can miss one another for the third time in as many months because they are crossing the country on different flights. Yep, f*ked again.

So, seeing as how I had three evenings to spend alone, I thought it would be fun to invite a very interested party to this whole relationship to have dinner with me - or at least coffee. You know, so they could at least see that I wasn't a prison slut with an IQ of 20 weighing 700 pounds with twenty I Love Jesus tattoos across my forearms. (Hey, I could be sending pictures of my cell mate's sister, after all) After all, if one of your loved ones said "hey, the girl I'm in love with is coming to town and I can't be there, how about dinner?" wouldn't you take them up on it? Yeah, me too...in a heartbeat.

Did they? Nope.

I think that's called a double f*ck and a half.

this post courtesy of nicim

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No one gets married for the sex

You'd think that having Hubby home for 14 days on vacation would mean sex. Wild, frolicking sex on the furniture, in the kitchen, rolling down the hallway...but no. It does not. And why does it not mean sex?

Because Hubby is lazy, and I am tired.

I chase after two active (HA!) boys all day, get them ready for school, pick up their messes, do the laundry, cook the meals (including Thanksgiving Dinner) and what does Hubby do? He picks Jr up from school.

Yay.

And yet this tiredness is all my fault. Never mind that I tell him if he helps me get the boys into bed and ready for sleep by 9 pm I'd give him a little. Never mind that I announce to the boys (in front of Hubby) that they have to go to bed early tonight because "Mommy and Daddy need some alone time". He doesn't help (mostly) and doesn't get frisky until after 10 pm. I am SO ready for sleep by 10. "How can I get you in the mood?" he asks. "Pick up a toy!" I say. "Put away some folded laundry! Empty the dishwasher! Lighten my load so I'm not exasperated by 9 o'clock!" Does he listen? No. The total amount of sex had this particular vacation so far: one BJ on the couch (but not while the game is on; you don't interrupt sports!). Yes, he actually said that. Moral to the story: No one gets married for the sex.

this post courtesy of warcrygirl

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Second verse, same as the first.

I need to get laid.

BADLY.

Unfortunately, I am way past the point of counting in weeks since my last partner-induced orgasm, and I am now talking MONTHS.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

The worst part is, all I have to do is make a phone call, and in ten minutes, I'd have a naked man in my house and I could end all of this. But I won't do it. Why? Because I'm a suck-ass loser who's sprung on some guy a bazillion miles away - something I swore I could never allow to happen. But it did. And now all I want to do is have this man in my bed, and I know that's not going to happen until after the new year. God. Damn. It.

Fucking feelings.

It was so much easier to be a no-strings girl. Ok, that's a lie.

But at least I'd be getting some.

this post courtesy of yeahimadork

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I Heart My Self-Sabotage

(Note: This is borrowed from my entry tonight. It was so fitting, I had to re-post.)

Have you ever pulled on a pair of sweatpants, only to realize they're saturated with dog piss?

Mighty fucking unpleasant.

Have you ever been IM'd by a local guy, been completely resistant to a chat because you 1) aren't in the mood, 2) have an entry to write, but found you liked his profile, said a few words to be polite and almost ended it, then discovered you both had many shared interests (including: The Doors, SNL, cussing, no religion, dogs, and beer) then gotten his picture, was turned off by the goatee, but still willing to make an attempt, only to get shut out when you mentioned you were a smoker?

HAVE YOU? TONIGHT? Because that would be pretty goddamn freaky.

For the record, it wasn't only the goatee I disagreed with. The general faceage was not to my liking. Then there was the whole "ex with two near-teenage kids" thing (and he's a year younger than me). Overall, I'm pleased the smoking turned him off before my picture/admission of actual weight sent him running for the hills.

The good news is that my barriers are working PERFECTLY.

The bad news is that I'm never getting laid again.

Bring forth the donuts and beer. NOW.

this post courtesy of haloaskew

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get it fixed!

Note to all men: pain makes you to not want to do the nasty. So, if you want so ('cause we all know you do) go get whatever is causing you pain, fixed.

Because some of us girls like to be fuked every once in awhile and the "I'm in pain" routine is getting old.

And I want my phone sex. Dammit.

this post courtesy of bassclargrrl

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Menage a moi; sex in expensive cars

Votes are in! The winner of the euphemism contest is ramblin-bill, whose prize is ... I don't know! But I'll think of something!

So, that's it, our new page title. If any of you can think of a better way than I did to incorporate "menage a moi" into a catchy title, let me know, because I'm a little tired and blah and also uncreative.

And whoever knows which song is being referenced in my subject line, you will earn my undying '90s-rap-loving friendship.

In other (more unfukd-related) news, Husband and I had a little chat the other night wherein he said the ACTUAL WORDS:

"Maybe we should try to be celibate for a while after you get back. We could spend more time hanging out and not worrying about sex."

To which I replied:

"Are you smoking that free crack again, sweetums?"

I'm not even going to waste any energy trying to figure out what put this "celibacy" idea into his head right now, but I'm telling you all right now -- if I find out that he's just trying to keep me from finding out that he somehow got a disease from a hooker in my absence or something insane like that, it will be ON.

By the way, if anyone I happen to know personally is reading this (and you know who you are), please be aware that I have no qualms with causing you intense physical pain in one of your favorite bodily regions, if you ever even daydream of sharing this with anyone else. Ye be warned.

As it looks right now, I will be home soon after the New Year -- if Husband knows what is good for him, his Number One New Year's resolution will have as little to do with celibacy as Ashlee Simpson has to do with talent.

this post courtesy of unfukd

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"Happy" Birthday to me. Meh.

Today is my birthday, I'm 37 but I've got the kids trained to tell anyone who asks that I'm 25. Of course, I'll have to up that by the time Jr is 10; we don't want the neighbors to talk, now do we?

So far the only present I've gotten was from Mother Nature herself. Yep, you guessed it. I woke up with it after suffering from Hell Week the past week, along with a kind-of-sort-of-quasi headcold that never seemed to make up it's mind whether it wanted to fuck me or not.

Too bad, as it would have been the only action I've gotten in about a month. But of course that's all MY FAULT according to Hubby.

I'll vote, but I didn't realize you were all taking submissions; I personally like to call it "tuttin' the button", or 'touching' for all you non-Southerners out there.

this post courtesy of warcrygirl

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VOTE! Over there --> !

It's voting time!

I've put together a nice little poll made up of your contributed euphemisms for what we here at Unfukd call our FAVORITE ACTIVITY -- at least, our favorite these days.

So vote for your favorite female (top ten) and male (bottom ten) nickname for, haha, getting to know yourself a little bit better, and the winner will get ... something. Which I haven't decided on yet. And also, the winning phrase will become the new title for this page. Woo hoo! Come on, get excited! Since this is the most action we're getting lately.

If you need me, I'll be here ... dipping into my stash of toys.

Love,

Meany

this post courtesy of unfukd

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Our little show stoppers

Oddly enough, when hubbins and I were dating (which coincidentally is the least societally appropriate time for the uglies to bump), we were like rabbits.

Not just rabbits, but rabbits who hadn't had any contact with one another for years and just found out they only have moments left to copulate before a crabby alien race, pissed off that we have Jerry Springer and microwave ovens, has decided to blast us all into nonexistance.

My...that's a vivid mental image, isn't it, children?

Anyway...

Time marched on here at Chez Goth, we had two babies and found ourselves with an abundance of other things to do that unfortunately do not include one another. Adding to this is that fact that darling hubbins works 8-16 hours a day in a place that is approximately 90 minutes from where we currently reside and relocating is not an option at the moment. Equity. Heh.

Our sex life consists of a quick romp every few (as in three-sixteen or more) weeks, which is just often enough to not declare it legally dead. I'm a big fan of Dr. Phil, and according to him, six times or less a year is a sexless marriage. Not only do we have that beat, I think we're actually working toward regaining our collective virginity.

'Cause it's hard (hee-hee...I said hard), to get busy when you have two toddlers in the next room screaming for Mommy and Daddy.

Even through a locked door...it's a bit of a show stopper.

this post courtesy of gothique

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and so it goes

You know how tennis players get tennis elbow? Well I think I have masterbater's wrist.....

Dh is slowly getting better....but still now well enough to get down and dirty..

He has been so frickin' grumpy latley that if by some stroke of luck he WAS up to bumping uglies, I would turn him down. So I told him if he didn't stop being such an ass, I would knock him into next week....so for the last week he has been all lovey dovey touchy feely snuggly wuggly which makes me soooo horney worney.

Hence the sore wrist and pile of dead batteries....

this post courtesy of chefmom30

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ode to B.O.B.

How do I love thee, oh battery operated boyfriend?
Let me count the ways...
You are always there for my enjoyment and pleasure....as you should be.
You never complain or tell me I look fat.
You never look over my shoulder at the TV when we’re in the throes of passion.
You never check your text messages when I’m trying to make a point.
You never notice if I forgot to shave my legs.
You’re always as frisky as your 3 DD batteries will allow.
You’re warm, you’re pliable. You come in different shapes, and sizes.
Oh battery operated boyfriend, you are so cool.
You always do as I say and say as I do.
You never tire of my jokes or my need for more.
I can ride you like a buckin’ bronco or slip you in for a quickie.
My wish is your command.
And I know you’ll never cheat or run off with the male gardener to start your own floral shop, or even take me to court to sue me over custody of the golden retriever.
Oh B.O.B. you’re the best. Of course, the only problem is...
You can’t hold me in your arms and say, “I love you.”

this post courtesy of awittykitty

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It's Smed, Believe It.....Or Not.....

Well, as you may know, I’m Smed, proprietor of Smed’s corner, giving you non-stop drivel, nonsense, and essays about good tunes and good times since…oh…May 13, 2005.

Anyway, for those of you following the Smed Home Game, you know I’m married to a wonderful angel named Liz and we have two darling adopted kids, Katie and Kristin.

Liz and I love each other dearly, and we are affectionate and all that.

However, there’s been a dry spell in the boudoir.

One reason is that Liz has had a cold and snuffles for about two weeks.

Another reason is that Liz, being a stay at home with a 3 ½ year old and a five-month old, is pretty much tuckered out at about 10.

She needs 8 to 10 hours of sleep, while I normally get by on six. So she’s long in bed before I’m thinking about it.

But you can work around that, you all are thinking. There’s always the morning time.

Well, that would be the case, if’n Katie didn’t barge into our room at 7 each and every morning.

Once, it was about 6:30, and Liz and I were both awake and feeling amorous. There was our usual prerequisite of kissing, licking, swirling, touching, grabbing…then….

“Mommy! Daddy! Time to get up!”

“Ok, Katie…uh….stay right there for a minute! (Liz, where are my boxers??)”

We really don’t have locks on our doors, and if we did, Katie would cry and pout outside. That’s kind of a buzzkill in the romance department.

So for those reasons, it’s been quite a dry spell. When will it end??

Hopefully before 2020 (the year, not the TV show).

this post courtesy of smedindy

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one way love

Another (bad) joke:
Q: what's the difference between me and a rubbish bin?
A: the bin gets picked up once a week

this would be funny, if it weren't so damned true...

~ i am Sam's twisted, cynical, broken, fucked up heart

this post courtesy of spinster

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Are you fucking kidding me?

670 days. Yes, six hundred and seventy. DCLXX.

How do i know? Have i been counting? No. It's because it was New Years Eve. Two years ago. I don't think i even know how to do it anymore.

(My name is Rik, btw. Most of you probably don't know me, however, it's nice to meet you all and wallow in misery with you.)

I had a naked chick in my bed two weeks ago, and i didn't feel like it, so it must not be that bad. Oh, shit, what am i saying? Has it started already? Celibacy really does make you insane.

this post courtesy of freefall74

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**Pseudo-sex...**

And so it goes....

Does a 5 minute sexual romp in the hay, still qualify me for the title of one of the *unfkd*??

I believe it does... Cause it's not like I actually had any pleasure... It was basically just a *do it and get it done* sort of thing, as dh was reallly tired...

I miss the days when ALL we did on the weekends was stay in bed, sleep and get busy...

WHY oh WHY can't it be like that anymore... *sniff**sniff*

TaTa...

this post courtesy of fluttrbykiss

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A contest!

Hey everyone!

I'm announcing a contest wherein we will find a better name for this site. "Got ass?" is beginning to wear on me, because, NO, I do not got ass. Yet. Two months, one week and counting!

This is how it goes:

1) Think of your favorite euphemisms for male AND female masturbation
2) Leave it in the Notes section
3) After, oh, how about a week, I will figure out how to make on of those little polling-thingies, and we will vote on our favorites
4) The winning euphemisms will be the incorporated into the title of the page

Get crackin', my fellow celibates!

P.S. Credit for this idea goes to Fifi, who has no diary but devotedly leaves comments on mine anyway. Thanks, Fifi!

this post courtesy of bluemeany

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All foreplay......no payoff.

So imagine the scenario. A long-distance relationship with an extra set of limitations. Individual schedules that just aren’t matching up for personal visits. Telephone calls limited to weekday, daylight hours – and a time difference that puts the real window from about noon to five.

Add the burden of pressing work commitments during the available hours.

And, finally, the crushing to-do list of knowns and unknowns associated with an unconfirmed cross country permanent move in less than ninety days.

Suddenly – a break!! The calling window is expanded to three full days and nights. Time enough to talk about stuff that is inappropriate for conversations that could be overheard – and STILL have time for love and kisses. How to prioritize……

So I began by asking the gnawing at my gut until I can’t sleep question. Trying to clear the mundane cobwebs from my mind that we’ve both been too busy for. It took over an hour, but with that out of the way I was ready for the good stuff. The foreplay of sweet nothings, plans, wishes, dreams, kisses and whispers. The orgasm of romantic, reassuring, loving, put me to sleep singing in my ear stuff.

“Well, I gotta go finish some work.” Damn. Where did the time go?

Unf*kd again.

this post courtesy of nicim

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Can I bang my head on the wall now?

Last night was horrible. I should know better than to drink when my guy isn't around. Though I suppose now I don't have "a guy", but that's beside the point. Me and drinking, see, we get along great but only when there's a guy around. Drinking seems to be a great aphrodesiac (sue me I can't spell it).

The thing that sucks so badly about my situation is that I get offers. And they are from people that I know, or that I meet, and they are very nice offers. But I don't want them, I want My Guy. And what am I supposed to say to these guys? "Yes I'd love to but not with you"?

I think this no sex thing is making me depressed. I haven't shaved my legs in about 3 weeks. What's the point if no one's going to be feeling them? Wow, I'm getting pathetic.

this post courtesy of soxconfused

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not getting any from the pseudo-boyfriend, either

So, I'm going to go on a roadtrip tomorrow to see a friend. A good friend. A I-have-seen-him-in-his-boxers friend. But we have never dated -- oh no, never dated. I made out with him a few times, but never dated him. He is so not my type.

But when we're in public together, people mistake us for a couple. Although we are so not. No no no.

So we've come to the conclusion that he is my pseudo-boyfriend and I am his pseudo-girlfriend. Which means, ladies and gentlemen of the Internet I am so not getting any.

Because I'm way too good of a friend, and an even better girlfriend.

I hate that whole my-boyfriend-lives-in-Brazil and I can't get fuked. Not by boyfriend and not by my pseudo-boyfriend.

Dammit!

this post courtesy of bassclargrrl

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**Unfukd In The South..**

Does anyone know what it's like to be married for 14 years??? To the same man?? Both of our bodies have shifted from the athletic military thin, to the non-athletic, no exercising, fat blobs that we have become...

Anyway, when we first met... Ahh... Those were the days... We were both in the military and 20-years-old... It took me about 3 months to even DO IT with him in the first place... But, when we FINALLY did... WOW!!! It was amazing!!! and it stayed that way... We were non-stop sex fiends.... We did it sometimes up to 8-10 times A DAY!!! I know, right??

Then... our 3rd child came along and shortly after I had my insides taken out...

That was the END of our proverbial nymphoism... Soo... For like 8 years now... No, let me rephrase that... We were still doing it on a regular basis, because I was a *good wife* and did what HE wanted me to do...

And as recently as 2 years ago, I had another surgery on my insides... I swear that stupid doctor screwed me up for life... Now I have absolutely NO desire to do it... And when I do... Dh is too tired...

We go sometimes 10-14 days inbetween... To say the least, this current situation has reduced my once virulent stud-muffin into a 3-minute man!!! Then it's like when is it MY turn??? Right??

At last count it was about 10 days sice I've been fukd!!! I am in my mid-30's shouldn't I just be hitting my *prime* about now?? It's not that I haven't *TRIED* to get fukd... It's just that he is soo tired all the time... Yeah, he works many hours and is tired when he comes home...

But, the thing that gets me is that I'm ALWAYS blamed for our current state of UNFUKD-ness... He ALWAYS tells our friends that he's been cut off... What is with THAT?? It's not like I don't try...

To end I would like to say that I need to not be unfukd soon!!! This is driving me crazy!!!

Ugghhh...

this post courtesy of fluttrbykiss

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Still unfukd – are you listening God?

Yesterday morning, being Sunday and all, seemed to Mr. Lucky an appropriate time to attempt getting lucky. I successfully avoided him (without seeming petty or ungrateful for his pitiful attempts at seducement) for at least a week. Unfortunately, having finally drifted asleep at 4:30 am, I was still in bed when he assailed me with his freezing feet and witty repartee. Rats.

Round One.
“Come over here so we can have some sex.”
(I’m sorry, where did that “we” come from?”

Round Two.
“You wanna be on top or bottom?”
(Hey, at least he asked. But do I look stupid to you? Ya can’t hide the distaste while on top.)

Round Three. One-one thousand, Two one thousand, 60 one thousand
“OH GOD!!”
(What’s God got to do with it? If there was a God I would not be laying under the dead weight of a 180 pound 60-second wonder right now. I’d be 2682.10 miles away getting properly f*cked.)

Round Four.
“So, what’s for breakfast?”

Did you know that nutmeg, injected intravenously, is a deadly poison? One of those factoids you pick up surfing the internet for….(shit, did I just say that out loud?)

PS: I am so f*cking UNFUKD!!

this post courtesy of nicim

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Where is the testosterone fairy when you need him?

I used to have a sex life that even the gods were jealous of. Which is precisely why I assume I no longer have said sex life.

I always imagined living with a much younger man would mean many romps in the proverbial hay for at least the next ten years or so. You know, until he was old like me.

I can't remember the last time I was properly laid/layed/leid. Ok. Maybe once. Four months ago.

I don't give a crap how stressful his job is. I don't want to hear about low testosterone levels. I honestly don't give a rip how tired he may be.

I just need some dick.

this post courtesy of d1mndn3r0ugh

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AND GOD SMOTE THE HELL OUT OF HER

This morning at church the pastor said a few things that made me automatically think of unfukd. Not his intention I'm sure since it was more in the vein of "Don't have premarital sex or any sex unless it's to make babies". Okay they aren't that backwards, at least...I hope not. Anyway. He said that we now live in an oversexed world. Unfortunately none of that over-sexing is happening in my pants. I'm currently following God's No Sex Rule against my will. I'm an extra in this world’s giant porno and all I get to do is watch. I am unfukd and I am pissed.

Who are these oversexed people? Where do they hang out? I suppose it is not Barnes and Noble and I guess quickies in the handicap stall don't happen as often as I imagine they should. That sounds pretty sexy to me though.

So I'll leave you with his final thought [Much like Jerry Springer but again without all the sex]

See Suffering as a gift from God.

• Suffering produces Rewards


• Suffering produces Perseverance


• Suffering produces Righteousness

Hmphff!!

I'd still rather be swimming in post-coital.

this post courtesy of geeked-out

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Bad liver and a broken heart

I'll start with a joke:
Q: why are wombats like men?
A: because they eat, roots, and leaves
heehee
So sorry, but I couldn't help myself being an Aussie and all. If ya didn't get it, then I'm guessing that there's a slang language difference goin' on...
Aussies call having sex ROOTING
Example: a bogun (for all the Yankees out there, this is kinda like a jock, but in a more bush pig, less brain cells kinda way) will come up to a girl and say: "hey there, wanna root?"
Doesn't this line sound soooo enticing?????
Like, you would soooo totally take anyone up on this classy offer???

That’s the trouble with Aussie men: they have no class (or tact, or manners, or sensitivities...)
or at least any of the ones that my shit magnet hones in on anyway...and if they do have any (class, that is) then they're batting for the other team, if ya know what I mean...
and no, there's not anything wrong with that
I'm just saying ...
(this line is blatantly stolen from Andria, sorry)

Anyway, I s'pose I should introduce myself...
my name is Spinster and there is a very good reason I choose to take this old-fashioned term that was used in a derogatory manner to describe unmarried old maids like myself.
You see, I have RECLAIMED it to represent a positive thing, and I wear the label with pride.

I also bat for both teams, so to speak, so my miserable existence is further quantified by the fact that I AM NOT GETTING ANY from the MALE or FEMALE species...(yay!)
I'm not entirely sure what has prompted my TWO year (and counting) stint of ASEXUALITY
but it's not from complete lack of offers...
These offers could be taken up by some skanky ho with no standards, boundaries or morals, but I have always been a bit picky in this area.
The last relationship I had was to an Irishman and he has now been sent packing back to Dublin town. He wanted to stay in Australia at one point and asked me to marry him.
I said no, despite the fact that I could have done it purely for the EU passport.
Sex with him was okay: when it happened...
dating an Irishman has it's merits, but most of the time my time with him revolved around him getting shitfaced and spending weeks on benders, then recovering, then swearing to stay off the drink, then doing it all again...
I don't think I need to explain what sex with an alcoholic is like...or a junky...or anyone else with substance abuse problems that I attract myself to.
Herein lies my problem: I'm attracted to these sorts of people, because I find them "interesting" or "creative" but I never count as number one to them.
Competing with a bottle or a shot is very soul destroying, plus it completely fucks with your sexlife. (no shit, Sherlock)
Which leads me to where I am now:
jaded, cynical, mad as fuckinhell and funny as a dose of the pox...
I'm sorry: I know you're probably thinking
"I thought this unfukd blog was going to be full of witty, hilarious descriptions from a bunch of unconventional unfukables which will leave me rolling on the floor in fits of instant recognition and laughter."

I blame my current state on the fukdpeople of this planet.
Their smugness, their pathetic, cutesy pie nicknames they call each other, the way they look down at you in that pitiful
"glad that's not me" way...[ugh]

Makes me want to go out on my skates with a big stick and go couple-busting...

this post courtesy of spinster

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Gonna wrap you up in my love (in my lo-o-ove!)

The lovely soxconfused summed up my sentiments in three simple words: damn the Army.

But even though the Army is what took me away from my fellow nymphomaniac (aka "Husband"), the Army is also what brought us together.

When I first met Husband, we both lived in the same barracks; he was four doors down from me. Of course, this became so very convenient.

Before long, we had each discovered the other's ravenous sexual appetite, and had experimented with just about every position we could think of. One night we were bored, and I let him Saran Wrap me, just for the hell of it.

I miss him.

And sometimes when I get lonely out here in the evil nastiness surrounding the great city of Baghdad, I pull out a piece of Saran Wrap, and take a nice, big, sniff ...

No I don't.

But wouldn't that be sad?

this post courtesy of bluemeany

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This Really Sucks

I was with my man for 3 months before The Day. He was 7 years older than me, and he was great in bed. We would have sex anywhere from 2 to 5 times a week, for these 3 months together. We usually ended up making love, which I think is totally different than sex. He was The One in my life, the one I wanted to be with forever and it still not be enough.

Then The Army happened. Yes, that horrible celebate place. I haven't gotten laid in THREE MONTHS. He ruined me from all others, yet I can't be with him. You know, unless I want to wait another 16 months.

I'm starting to get cranky. Everything anyone says to me is taken dirty. My mind is creating things out of nothing, like I saw a penis in the clouds today. I was always the one that never slept with anyone, so this boy REALLY ruined me of that. I always thought those people who said "I havent had sex in a month! woe is me!" were so annoying, until this. And here I am.

Damn the army.

this post courtesy of soxconfused

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Don't know what you've got 'till it's gone

Sex with my ex-husband was goooooood.

Really really good. I had him trained, yo.

Of course, the sadly ironic part is I never wanted any. I mean, c'mon, as a working mom of three, who really wants to take time out for sex?

::looks around at sea of raised hands::

Yeah, maybe I'm talking to the wrong group here.

Anyway, so yeah, he complained, I gave in and always, afterwards, I wondered why I was so disinclined to begin with. And then I remembered. Laundy. Always fucking laundry. Laundry takes the passion out of life.

So moving on, I left the husband for reasons totally unrelated to sex.

Or laundry.

I ended up dating a VERY hot bodybuilder for three years. Except...he was lousy in the sack. He took steroids, see, so he could never get it up. Or keep it up. Or, on the rare cases he could do both, he just couldn't get off.

Do you know what it's like have a 250 pound man on top of you for forty minutes, thrusting away whilst you struggle for breath?

And he had a teeny tiny weenie.

Add all that into the fact that we had a long distance relationship and we usually ended up having sex maybe once every three months.

Thankfully, that relationship ended a couple of months ago. Now I'm looking for...and may I be blunt here? Now I'm looking for a fuckbuddy.

Or so I say.

Except, I had some hot young (17 years younger than me) college kid who was hot and willing but...eh, no. Just...sex with a stranger? Ewwwww.

And yet, I don't want to get "involved" again. Not until I'm sure that I have the self-knowledge to choose the man who is right for me, and not just let myself be chosen by whatever man will have me.

I'm better than that, durn it.

(Although....if that hot boy in my office would give me the time of day, all my problems would be SOLVED!)

this post courtesy of workcrush

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still not getting any

It's Friday night. I'm a college girl.

You want to know what's NOT happening? THE SEX. And I want THE SEX. I mean, I'm not even getting THE SEX by phone tonight.

And that sucks.

this post courtesy of bassclargrrl

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What, Me Worry?

Well, I honestly wish I knew what was going on with my lack of love life. I sleep next to Hubby every night. It's just that...that's all that happens.

A couple of months ago, we had a hospital scare that had to do with Hubby's leg. Go ahead and click on the link if you want. I'll wait.

So, anyway, I thought for a while that the leg was sore, and that was the cause for the lack of "motivation". I'm thinking that I was pretty wrong, because nothing continued to happen. I mean, there was a super cool 2 minute boink the day of our anniversary, but as it was only about 2 minutes long, it's difficult for me to remember.

So, I then started to surreptitiously smell my armpits for some secret Wife B.O. that only my Hubby could smell. No clues there, either. I did a quick "bitch check" to see if I was such a bad person that I wasn't worthy of a little nooky. I decided that I was slightly annoying, but not even close to bitchy.

I've tried begging, whining, hinting, and all sorts of tactics, but nothing.

Here's the thing that kills me the most. Have you ever heard the old adage that the WIFE is the one that goes frigid immediatley after marriage, and that she's the one responsible a married couple's sex life becoming extinct? I think it's a huge pile of b.s., because the EXACT OPPOSITE is happening at the Clipchick homestead.

In a way, I think my story may be the saddest (or at least most pitiful) of all, since I have no excuse whatsoever for getting some. I see my husband every day, sleep in the same bed with him every night, neither of us is experiencing health issues. It's really difficult not to think that it's my fault, but honestly, I've considered raping the man in his sleep.

I kid you not!

Thanks for listening....

this post courtesy of clipchick

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fleeting membership

I am just past a year of unfukèdosity due to Fear of Herpes and also Not Being A Bastard.

But this weekend you may have to kick me out of the club.

'bout time's all I can say.

this post courtesy of porchlife

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Wuss Wussy Wuss-Wuss

OK, I'm a wuss. A big smelly hairy wuss. I was going to post something incredibly personal but I'm chickening out. At least for right now. Carry on.

this post courtesy of danjerus

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married and not getting any

I'm married and have been for 11 years. (Insert married *no sex* joke here). Actually last fall dh blew out a disc in his lower back so thrusting and such is no longer pleasurable for him. Apparently he doesn't get off on pain. Who knew? I think the last time there was any rocking of the marital bed was in April right before he had a minor surgery. That surgery didn't go well so 3 weeks ago he had a major one where they put rods and screws in his back. The good news is he should be fixed. The bad news is he is still in too much pain to get it on. It wasn't so bad when he was working during the day because by the time he got home, I was too ill and wound up from the day to really be in the mood. But now he is home all the time and showers regularly and smells so nice and the kids are happy to watch movies for hours but all I get to do is look at him and wish and remember how good he was at making me scream in ecstasy. Right now he isn't even up (no pun intended) for a BJ because the muscle spasms might kill him.

My kids have no batteries in any of thier toys because I keep stealing them in the middle of the night for my own personal use.........

this post courtesy of chefmom30

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You ain't gonna get any from long distance

Why, oh why, you ask would Nicim possibly need to post here when obviously she has the most imposing fabulously fabulous man in the world in dear Findlay. Why, poppets, it's very simple. HE'S 10,000 F-KNG MILES AWAY.

Instead, once a week (if I'm unlucky and the goddess is not on my side), I get the 3 minute wonderman workout known as Mr. Lucky. Oh Joy.

After years of conjoling him into improving his technique he finally decided to take Cosmo's Gettin' Some in Six Easy Steps to heart. To wit:

1. Listen carefully for the verbal cues that indicate her interest ("we'll be back right after these messages from our sponsor")

2. Make sure you provide a little foreplay to warm her up (press gently with forefinger to activate the TIVO mute button)

3. Move in gently to maintain the mood (grab hold of the closest ass)

4. Take your time, provide a memorable experience (thrust-2-3 OH GOD)

5. Tell her how good she is (Mmmmm good - lemmo go wash up)

6. Cuddle afterwards (caress the TIVO un-mute button before the commercials end so as not to miss any of the show)

Urp.

this post courtesy of nicim

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Off to bed ... but not in a good way

Hey, Unfukd world! I decided to make this thing weblog-style, because more than one entry a day will probably be posted.

Off I go to sleep now, to cuddle up with B.O.B. and dream of some hot doggy-style action.

Anyone who wants to be added to the guest list to post on this diary, leave a note and I'll hook you up as soon as possible. When you're added, your diary will be linked over there on the right, so that's how you'll know if I've gotten to you yet.

Horny as ever,

Meany

this post courtesy of bluemeany

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Moon's not getting any why?

What really blows for me, the guy that I would like to get fukd by, has to tell me all about the 22 year old "I want you to pay for bigger boobs for me" bimbo that he's getting it from. It's been well over a year for me, and at this rate, I just might hit my all time high of 5 years going fukless. Go me!

this post courtesy of moonfaeryy

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