In an effort to catalog the mass sexual dysfunction in the District of Columbia, we bring you BYT’s Below The Beltway series. 1 week. 1 person. 1 city. Total Anonymity guaranteed.
A 23-year-old female from Arlington with a steady (but new) boyfriend and no time for sex or work, but she somehow manages to get herself several cuts per week.
7 a.m. Awake in a tent. Boyfriend is stealing all the space. He’s hungover. Smoochin. Hot, hot, hot and quiet sex. I hold him tight, claw at his back desperately, biting, furious kisses. Not faking to make this hotter. Who doesn’t fake the claw thing? Somehow he’s really got the moves down that make me O. Beautiful, hard, deep. Mmm penetration. Per the use. Roll out of the tent and wonder if the neighbors heard or saw.
noon: Arrive at some resort hotel place. Snooze. Caught in bathroom mirror with Boyfriend behind me. Presses his hard-on into me. Desire. We’ve got to gtfo. Other ppl around.
midnight: Aww Boyfriend has arranged a pallet on the floor for us. Zonk.
7 a.m. An old-fashioned telephone is ringing. Shoulder aches. Lying … on the floor? Damn, it’s not that nobody answers the phone around here — it’s my phone, alarm. Kiss boyfriend. Mmm, morning wood.
7:15 a.m. Shower sex. He likes to look me in the eyes. Face-to-face and showers don’t mix well. He buries his face in my pussy. I beg for cum on my face. We have yet to perfect this — always ends up on my neck, at best. Neither of us can finish standing. Mutual sexual frustration.
8 a.m. Hot smooches at an intersection. Quick change from shorts to jeans in the car. He’s looking.
10:15 a.m. Climbing a mountainous overlook. Smooches. Body-hugs. Smooches on camera. Hey look at us on toppatheworld smoochin pix. Descent. Driving. See BYT invite to write sex diary. Boyfriend not amused in the least.
1 p.m. Discussion of very hot sex (with noise!) before bed after a week of awkward sex in other people’s space.
12:30 a.m. Boyfriend cooks. Smoochin foreshadows impending sex. I love him. He feeds me. He’s fumbling around with something. Damn, his quads always look that defined? Melt. Clothes off. Boyfriend dives, says it tastes amazing. Really? I’m even more smitten beyond belief, as always. We fuck. He hits that spot, where nobody ever has reached with any length or girth or anything. He has … JesusDick except tonight it’s too much for him, too. He holds back. Damn, JesusDick. I’m squeezing it to hell, bucking, trying to come first. He does. Jealous, I keep grinding on it and somehow come too. Poor thing asks if it’s OK to roll off me. Duh. I say some cute stuff about marriage.
9 a.m. Breakfast with coworkers. Mention of an office affair from the ‘80s. Dream about doing Boyfriend in my office. Then outside the office but nearby — parking lot? Apparently the mistress in this affair wore boleros and puffy sleeves. Sign me up!
Noon: Talking to Boyfriend on gchat. Talk about using my upcoming conference to have hot sex in a swank NYC hotel. Mention I’ve been approved to write a sex diary. “I dunno. I feel like it’s going to be different if we know that it’s going to be published,” he says. I pretend to consider this. He links me to Wikipedia’s Uncertainty Principle page. I begin to write my sex diary, relive last night’s sex. Ugh, frustration, wet panties at work.
6 p.m. Boyfriend finally rolls in. Kissing. Joking about whether he’s about to bang my brains out better than usual due to the sex diary. Wild fucking. I mean that. On top of him, I don’t feel like some discombobulated doll bored to death wondering how much pistoning it takes to be flipped over. He thrusts back wildly. I squeeze, hard. Hair pulling. Breast cupping. Squeezing his head between my forearms. Squeeze my legs together, he helps me thrust. I cum. I make him cum. Have we ever done this before? All me on top? He’s still hard. JesusDick. I ask if I can be on my tummy. He figures out this new way to choke me and it works so well. Chokehold? I’m gasping for air, literally, like I might die. Omigawd. He likes it too. My vag is exhausted. He fucks me frontwise, legs up, down, around, etc. We give up. I use my “blender.” He’s all into it. Love that, too. Must not be afraid of the blender. We’re in love, srsly. Real srsly. Met-the-parents srsly. Told my friends I’d marry him if he asked tomorrow, srsly. Weird srsly. 1.5 months and srsly!?
9 p.m. Pizza. Researching heroin and LSD on our JesusPhones at dinner right under the snobby waitress’ nose. Hah. Decide I’d be an uncontrollable nympho on Molly. Not even enough Alice D to see stuff and I was trying to frottage random strangers, gawking at TnA on chicks in tutus and bikini tops.
4 a.m. Awake. Laptop wedged between us. He’s in boxers. I have all my clothes on, even my hoodie. Camera is still attached to laptop, which I’d planned to transfer pix to. Hah. He barks at me to shut that shit off.
5:45 a.m. Awake. Want sex. Against his pleas, decide to sleep another 15 mins.
7:15 a.m. Damnit. Both latish for work. No sex. Hot smoochin in the shower though. Real hot smoochin in the elevator of his very Arlington hotel apartment.
10 a.m. Explain acid trip to a friend. Explain nonsexual but delicious touchy sensations. Explain rubbing against random strangers, wanting to feel lots of skin, but not sexually like hop hop and bass. Want to be back on Alice D. Tell Boyfriend I called his dick “JesusDick” in sex diary. He’s warming up to this idea, I think.
7:30 p.m. Really hot kisses. Deep, mouth-exploring kisses. Again, this would be creepy with anyone else but it feels incredible. “You told me we’d do it in 15 minutes,” he says. “What?” “Yeah, and I’ve waited 12 hours to do this to you.” I make him wait some more, but I grind on his wood.
11 p.m. Almost forgot the laundry. Isn’t this how all bad sex diaries begin? I throw the load in the dryer, hop on top. Kissing. He reaches up my skirt. Surprise, no panties. He unzips, pushes it in. There’s a very bright light and we’re right in front of a basement-level window. I hop down, face the dryer. He’s messing around a bit, pushes the tip up against my ass, on purpose. “Can I?” I’m confused. “Do you really like that?” “Sometimes.” “It hurt like hell last time.” (The night we met he accidentally hit the wrong hole – owww.) “I can do it without hurting you.” I love this boy. It does hurt, and he’s eagerly trying to thrust. Goddamn SatanDick. It hurts. I love him. I want to do this. Upstairs, try some more, me on top. Still hurts. No lube. Find Aloe Vera. It works! He’s able to slide in and thrust without it being so bad. I kinda like. He flips me under him, goes in deep. Jokes about me wishing his cock wasn’t so big. Agreed. He cums hard in my ass. I squeeze tight. He looks like he just died. He starts making all these sweet little confessions about how he’s never finished in a girl’s ass, barely tried with anyone really. He says he knows I love him as much as he loves me. It’s after 3. I ask if I can finish with my blender. I try to be quiet. Roommates and power tools don’t mix. And he did hurt me. Something’s swollen and bleeding. Try again in two weeks?
6:45 a.m. Delicious morning sex. Straight up. Boyfriend on top. Orgasms all around. He’s still got that twinkle from last night. I know it’s the same one.
8:15 a.m. My day off. Boyfriend jokes about how I’ll spend it masturbating. He leaves. I get out my blender, write up last night’s sexcapade. Masturbate. Wonder how many more places he can put his spunk today. Find my dildo but it hurts. Wtf. Look at porn. Think about Boyfriend instead.
noon Masturbate in the shower.
5 p.m. Boyfriend comes home. I had plans; he others. Pushes me onto my bed, seduces me. Mmm sweet beautiful sex. Him on top.
1 a.m. After dinner and margaritas, Boyfriend falls asleep on my couch watching Always Sunny. I screw around on my laptop in bed until he joins.
9 a.m. Boyfriend jokes that I was sleeping with my mouth open and he was tempted to stick his dick in my mouth. Happens now. He’s got one hand all over my pussy. I squish my teeny titties together so he can titty fuck me. Some 69 position. Invites me to sit on his face. Never done this. Amazing. We do something that might be called the pink dragon? The crab, fucking face-to-face? Outlandish, feels great. Never been able to do these things without lmfao and being slightly bored. We’re so organic. He tries to cum on my face (still working toward this goal). Misses, gets my chin, neck. Barely done and he’s inviting me to suck his dying hard-on. It grows in my mouth. I ask for a massage. Ends with him prodding me with his hard-on. Mmm. Sex again. JesusDick! He tries again to cum on my face. He has to fuck me some more. Cums a teeny bit into my mouth. We have too much sex for this to work.
11 a.m. Suck on him slightly soft again. I really like this. End up on top, eventually he’s helping me thrust, hottest thing ever. I stay on top for a long time before we switch, me on bottom, legs spread apart. He cums hard as a result of it being so hot, he says. Wow, serious JesusDick. Three times, one morning.
noon Shower. Messing around. He sucks my tits so perfectly.
Afternoon spent at various thrift stores. Start to feel sick again. FML. FM(allergic)L. Stay in with Boyfriend.
8:40 a.m. We both come to and end up fucking. I’m on top, wet as anything. He helps move me to cum. I’m about dead, so he flips me over. Soooo deep. Nobody gets this deep. Must be the love. He cums. We’re adorable. Stay in bed a while longer. He gets it back up. Fuuuucking JesusDick. I’m not wet this time. Fluke. He says he’ll go down, he loves the way I taste. I love him. It’s amazing. I invite him to fuck me. He wants me on top. I almost get him to cum. I’ve got him so deep, and I’m thrusting so hard into him. He eventually flips me, makes me cum, longest he or maybe anyone’s ever held me at the edge. Epic orgasm. Spread my legs, he cums. We spoon and snuggle and act cute a while.
noon Showers, Safeway, discount wine in bulk. Teasing him with a too-short skirt.
6 p.m. I’m writing sex diary. Boyfriend jokes that maybe he’ll just write it since I’m asking him so many questions about this morning’s activities.
10:40 p.m. Dinner and a serious heart-to-heart. I use men. I’m a bitch, but not to him. Not … yet? He knows the things I’ve done. I told him. Why do I have so many former fuck buddies still on the friendship Rolodex? I want nothing more than him. I’ve never known so definitely. I tell him I’m so sure I told my mother (to whom I tell nothing) and my best friends (who know me as an evil bitch in relationships) that I would marry him if he asked tomorrow. It’s true. I mean it. They all know I’m absolutely serious. I looked at wedding dresses on a whim. We’ve picked a venue (mostly)! He says he thought about asking me a few weeks back. I tell him we should wait at least a few months. Never ever talked this way with someone. He’s it.
Body count: 13 works of intercourse, 1 serving of anal sex in two acts, too many kisses to tally, all with the same boy.