Since starting this blog I’ve been selective about whom I share it with. I am not ashamed of the blog, hell no, I am very proud of it, I just worry that some people will want to fuck (or not fuck) the ‘blog me’ and not the real me.
The following tale validates this concern.
It’s the morning after acquiring my first desert tale: Welcome to the Desert, and I’ve decided to tell my new kitchen colleagues about the blog. They are all intrigued, gathering around my iPad to hear Wear A Dress and Don’t Change your Panties read aloud. Mid way through, ‘…banged over a very questionable public toilet…’ Desert Tarzan walks into our stretchie. He is curious to know about the fine literature we are reading, I inform him that it is a tale from my own sex life. It is clear from the look in his eyes that he wants to be the subject of my next tale.
That night we head to our first desert party. There I discover the Rebar – a donation based bar to which you donate alcohol and / or your topless only bartending services. A pretty freakin fabulous idea – except for the ‘no flirting allowed’ sign! There’s just one downside, tonight the bartenders have been donated only whiskey, tequila, and rum… no mixers. Two cocktails later, and I am feeling like a rummed-up, wasted pirate.
From the heart of the swelling party, Desert Tarzan emerges sauntering his leopard print ass towards me. He asks: Is it really true you write a sex blog?
Yes, of course. I explain to him that I am a lover of sex, I have a lot of it, and that it’s a love I’ve always shared proudly.
Over the years I’ve realised that there is far too much taboo around open female sexuality and negative connotations surrounding the word slut. Slut – a word I choose to see in a different light. For me, being ‘slutty’ can be fucking empowering. While living my authentic life, I decided to document my sex tales to show that I am the only owner, the only judge of my own sexuality so if I want to slut around and sleep with seven guys in a week, that’s my prerogative.
Listening intently, Desert Tarzan showers me with compliments, agrees with my feminist beliefs and expresses his own similar views; wishing sex was more freely enjoyed by all. And then, as if casually asking whether we should go and get another drink, he asks: Should we go fuck?
Our stumbling steps away from the party make it clear that we were both victims of the Rebar cocktails. We don’t know where we are headed to do the horizontal shuffle. I share my living quarters with the wifey, Zimbabawia in our intimate kitchen quarters of ten tents, while he lives in the jam packed DPW* quarters of 60 tents. I’m not up for gettin’ my Slutty Jane on in either areas so we decide to drag his mattress out and deep into the scorpion filled shrubs of the open desert.
We get naked under the new moon and crystal clear constellations, and he quickly descends on me, licking his way into my blog. It is hot, he is hot, oh and did I mention he’s German? After a sustained amount of time being eaten out, I pivot my body around to put his cock in my mouth. I truly love 69’ing. It’s the easiest position for me to have a clitoral orgasm. Being pleasured with a soft and wet tongue whilst simultaneously focusing on pleasuring the cock in my mouth, keeps my thoughts from sabotaging me and I can have the Big-Oooooooo.
We get to the condom part of the party and Desert Tarzan explains that he isn’t very into them. I explain that I’m not into STI’s. Unable to argue with this, he slides one on and it becomes immediately evident why he felt that way. His once tall and eager penis has become limp, shying away from its Latex-nemisis. I try to be firm on my stance of always using a condom with new sexual partners. Now that sex isn’t going to be a possibility, I instantly feel finished with the scenario; after all we’d decided to fuck, not to spend the night together.
Walking back to my tent alone, I decide I won’t get with Desert Tarzan again. I loved the spontaneity of the evening but realistically Desert Tarzan was attracted to me because of my blog. I understand this, and am delighted that he shares my feelings of sexual empowerment. However, I realise that I too had gone to fuck because of the ‘blog me’ and not the real me.
I am only fucking for the real me from now on.
Make Love Watercolour by @tinamariaelena
*DPW – Department of Public Works