Living Wicked

Honest Tuesday’s: I <3 (rhymes with) Corn.

Mar 29, 2010 Completely Hypothetical and Generally Specific, Creative Writing/Poetry, Honest Tuesday's, Masturbate-able, Random, Sex

Welcome to Honest Tuesday’s! A place where you can come and be totally honest about shit that you normally would not be honest about.

This is probably not a surprise, but I <3 Porn. Like big fat <3.

Because I love it so much, I decided to write it a love letter. Wanna hear it? Here it goes.

Dear Porn,

I love you.

If you were a human, I would marry you. I probably wouldn't have your babies though… cause I think telling people that I was pregnant by "porn" is kinda nasty… and I don't think my family would really understand that "porn" is my baby daddy.

By the way, since I am now professing my undying horny devotion to you, can you do me a huge favor? (actually… a few favors to be realistic)

I thought so.

I want to see more dirty porn. Porn stars need to be choked, spanked, hair-pulled, and called sluts and whores until I and every other porn lover climaxes. I am sick of this foo-foo crap where all the females are super delicate and they squeal, and stare all up into the camera while they are face deep in some ball sack. I don’t want it obvious that the slut knows she is on camera. It takes away from my experience.

I also would prefer that these bitches stopped talking. I am not interested in what she or anyone has to say at that point. It in fact, unless you are telling the “dirty slut” to put it in her mouth, or unless you are asking that “whore” if she likes the big cock in her ass… there really shouldn’t be much conversation at all.

I personally have had enough of the scenario porn. “Hot college blonde gives her professor the ride of his life” really is some old dude and strange chick. Neither one of them is in college 9 times out of 10. And the dude ISN’T her professor. So for 10 minutes, I am stuck listening to them try to act (which if they could actually act, they probably wouldn’t be in this business) out the corny fucking scene. Sorry porn, but that is a total turn off. At least make the scenario believable. Just start the shit mid stroke. No commentary is necessary. I don’t need to hear dialogue about her fucking his old ass for a better grade on her essay paper. I just don’t.

Sorry if I am too needy, but I would also like to have my own feature porn series. It can be on DVD only, or on some random pay-for-porn channel… or both.

This is my preferred criteria:

Lots of hot chocolate boys.
Simultaneous hole penetration.
Lots of “slut” and “whore” reference to me personally
Clit and ass spanks; hair pulling and some choking.
Face fucking.
No facials. I don’t think that cum dripping off anyone’s chin is hot. Cum on tits, ass, and tummy are totally acceptable places.

I don’t think that this is too much to ask.

Love always and forever,
WickedCourtni

P.S. Please stop torturing me with the pee porn. Not all of us are turned on by that like R.Kelly.

Nuff said.

Do you have anything to be honest about this week?
To porn or not to porn?
Is there anything pink within 10 feet of you? What is it?
What’s your favorite day of the week and why?

Tags: open letter, porn, R.Kelly, Sex

Whatever Happened to Wednesday’s: Subtle-ty

Mar 23, 2010 Completely Hypothetical and Generally Specific, DUH, I Forgot to Tag, Random, Relationships, Sex, Thoughts and Perceptions, Whatever Happened to? Wednesdays, Wicked Wisdoms, bitch

Yeah bitches, I just made up my own word right there. I need to start a Wicked-ictionary.

Anyway.

Welcome to Whatever Happened to Wednesday’s!

Today’s WHtW was inspired by a story told to me today by a co-worker. In re-living this story with Tarable and sharing a “daaaaaaaaaayum that is fucked up” laugh about it … My blog light bulb went off.

Wanna hear it? Here it goes:

Picture standing in line at the grocery store, minding your own business. You are standing behind a young couple, but the observation of them in front of you was simply that. An observation.

Until ….

The couple unloads their basket. The guy nonchalantly drops a box of Magnums on the counter.

(Lets freeze this moment for a second. Have you ever bought any sort of unmentionable at the grocery store? Condoms, lube, monistat … tampons … all of these come paired with just a little bit of a “I hope no one notices that I am buying this” knot in your belly. Some of us try and cover it with another product. Some just throw it in last minute. Whatever. We all have been there. Are you there with me right now? Good.)

So the guy. He drops the condoms. The “My dick is monstrous” condoms. That right there is a statement.

Then the following conversation (if that is what you want to call it) happens:

Girl: “Why do you keep buying these? They always fall off.”

Um. So. Yeah. I was not there but I am pretty sure that THIS is what my face would have looked like if I had:

And then like this:

And lastly like this:

This leads me to the topic at hand: Subtle-ty.

Her saying that would be like him saying something to the effect of “Why didn’t you grab that Vagisil, babe? Your vagina smells and tastes like cheese!” in the line at the grocery store.

You ladies just cringed right there, didn’t you? See!?

It is broads like this that give us women a bad name. Right here. I mean, having a Magnum-worthy penis is rad. Believe me. I know this. But it is like the Michael Phelps of the penis. Not everyone is gonna win Gold medals. Average is average. Shit even ABOVE average.

but there were a couple of ways to handle this situation that would have not stripped this mans balls from his body:

1) A simple whisper. Not a God damn broadcast.

2) Simply saying “I will be right back babe.” And walking the box of manhood detrimental condoms back and getting an appropriate box instead. Maybe ribbed for her pleasure or something.

Subtle-ty. It is important in life. Not just in regard to penis size or manhood. In life in general. Maybe this phenomenon comes with age or maturity or something … but I am just saying. Think about who else might be affected by your thoughtless broadcast of their faults.

Can you think of another situation where subtle-ty might be super important?
What would you do if you were him in that situation?

Tags: condom, magnum, megaphone, monistat, penis, safe sex, subtle, tampon, trojan

TMIThursday: Rhymes With Perp.

Mar 17, 2010 Completely Hypothetical and Generally Specific, Etc., Sex, TMI Thursday's, Yum... or Lack There Of., bitch

Welcome to TMIT! Lilu is the founder of the awesome awfulness … so go show her and all of the other TMIT contributors some pukeinyourmouth trainwreckyoucantturnaway love.

Our guest TMITer is a brave man. A noble man. Because reading this story makes me stabby.

Say hello to Vic!

Andddd … Prepare yourself to want to punch a bitch in the face.

Welcome to my triumphant return to the blogosphere! As a guest blogger for TMIT, I thought I’d share waaay too much information with you all. Because, well, I’m like that. And you’ll laugh. You fucking better, ‘cuz I went through a lot to bring this little story to you:

God, it seems, is not without a sense of humor.

And it seems as though I am at the butt of his jokes way too often.

Several years ago, I wrote a blog posing the question as to whether or not the actors and actresses in the Valtrex commercials could ever get a date. There was simply not enough money to get me to be in one of those commercials and run the risk of this scenario playing out:

“I like you, and I’m really attracted to you…. But I can’t shake the feeling that I”ve seen you somewhere before.”

“I get that a lot. Err, I must have a familiar face.”

“Wait, I know! You’re in commercials! Yeah! Wait… which one was it?”

“Don’t worry about it gorgeous, I think you must be confusing me with someone …”

“NO! It was the Valtrex commercial! The herpes medicine, right? Umm, I have to go. My dog has to be dry cleaned… or something…”

Flash forward 4 years. I’m single, out of a long-term relationship. A monogamous one. The number of women I had been with in the past five years could be counted on Dennis Hopper’s hand in Speed. But the time had come to add another one to the list.

It was… not bad.

And then it happened.

There was a look on her face, and she said, “I need to tell you something.”

Me, being the smartass that you all know and love, replied with, “What, did you give me herpes or something?”

“Uhh… yeah, well about that…”

God, it seemed, just pissed his pants laughing. The first thing I thought was that I was getting payback for that blog. The second thing I thought was that it just. fucking. figured. Here I am, cautious, monogamous, and the first time out of the box after being with only one woman the past 3 years, my dick craps out.

(the Herp)

Turns out, after 2 weeks of hell, testing, and waiting, that nothing was wrong. That she got retested and it turns out she had a false positive. Really, I swear, I’m clean. Tested twice, and once again 6 months later.

But FUCK! Why the hell wouldn’t you tell me that beforehand? Give me an option here… let me make my own educated decision on the deal! I’m not saying it’s the same, but I understand how it feels to be violated… to have your choice taken away.

Needless to say, I “lost” her number. Nothing is worth that insanity.

Not even the A-T-M.

(and not the A-T-M that you get money out of.)

So there you have it. Meet Vic ladies! Wanna date him?!

Who else would have punched her in her face or dirty vagina?

Please email your own TMIT’s to wickedcourtni@gmail.com

Tags: commercial, herpes, tmithursday, valtrex

Cuz Mommy Says Eat

Mar 9, 2010 Completely Hypothetical and Generally Specific, DUH, Friendship, Masturbate-able, Out of Wicked's Mouth, Relationships, Sex, This Thing Called Marriage.

So the question has been directed my way…

“How do you retrain the wheel… in the oral department… when the other person just isn’t as into it as you would like them to be??”

Specifically referring to “dining out”.

I call this oralsexophobia.

When it comes to oral, there really isn’t a retraining. I think oral sex is like sushi. You either like it or you don’t. It isn’t really an acquired taste/talent/fetish. I know several men who just do not prefer to put their face in-between ANYONES legs. I don’t care if you have the prettiest most famous vagina on the planet. They just are not gonna go there. On the flip-side, I know several women who not only refuse to suck a cock… but DEMAND to have their coochie knife and forked regularly.

Um. What?

Granted, I haven’t been a regular Blow Job Betty lately… (not because I am not in a giving mood by any means..) and usually the snatch to cock ratio favors my pleasure… but I don’t demand head if I am not willing to reciprocate.

“So,” you ask… ” what am I supposed to do if I want it, and he/she just doesn’t want to give it?”

There are many different layers to this loaded question.

1:Are YOU giving oral with no reciprocation?

If yes, I would stop. Period. Give ‘No McOral’ a taste of their own medicine. Why should you be the only one giving presents. (yes, I understand that most of us who DO give oral, actually enjoy doing so… however it is absolutely unethical to have Mr. Man in ElBoat-o stranded in lake neglect when Penis McBall is being coddled like a 7 month old infant.)

2- Have you talked to Neglector 2010 about their oralsexophobia?

If you haven’t, PLEASE do. Find out why. Talk about your needs. Tell them how important it is to you to not only receive it, but to give it as well. Explain why it is important in your sex life. Communication is SO key in any relationship. ESPECIALLY the sexual part.

3 If N-2010 is not receptive to your needs, and cannot get past whatever it is that turns them off………

Then you as the needy one, has to decide exactly the level of importance oral sexcapades are to you.

Personally, I would tell D to go take a long walk. I absolutely MUST be the main course on a regular basis. I need frequent stimulation. Period. Need it. Like life or fucking death. There is nothing better than a fantastic tongue fucking related o-face.

Dining out, in my opinion, is more than just a luxury. It is as important as cock penetration. Period. If your ball-and-chain cant get it together… I would tell them to kick rocks, OR find someone who WILL do it on the side.

On a side minirant…. if I catch wind of another bitch that doesn’t swallow…. I am going to fucking scream. Giving head and not at least letting him cum INSIDE your face is like giving him a hot fudge Sunday without the fudge. If you don’t want to digest his seed, fine. But don’t make him tell you when he is about to cum so you can move out of firing range.

He.Might.As.Well.Whack.Off.

Nothing irritates me more than a half-assed Betty. DON’T give them then. DON’T get a mans hopes up and then shaft him at the end.

DON’T make us full BJ givers look bad. We give 110 percent, so you need to as well.

K? K.

IF you were to name the emotion that you waste the most time on, what would it be?
Name five songs to which you know all the lyrics.

Tags: blow job betty, cunningulus, fellatio, oral sex

Pillow Talk — 7

Mar 2, 2010 Current Events, Relationships, Sex, This Thing Called Marriage., Wicked & D Quotables, pillow talk

Yo! Yo! Yo!

I always give love to Ms. Lilu for inspiring my Pillow Talk blogs because she posts The Shiz My Boyfriend Says. And I love her so you should read her. Word?

(while watching SNL…)

Me: “Jlo is both the artist and the guest?”
D: “I dunno…”
Me: “What in the hell is she singing tonight?”
D: “I think she sings some mexi stuff.”
Me: “Mexi stuff? Really?”
D: “You know what I meant.”
Me: “So racist.”
D: “Yeah. That’s me. A closet racist.”
Me: “Like mexi fries? Mexi melt?”
D: “Shutup.”

(20 minutes later …)

Me: “Damn Jlo has ass.”
D: “Somethin’ has to make up for her lack of voice.”
Me: “Seriously. Enrique Iglasias needs to tell his wife about herself because dude. She sounds like a dying cat.”
D: (laughing)
Me: “What?”
D: “Jlo’s husband is not named Enrique.”
Me: “Huh?”
D: “You called Jlo’s husband Enrique Iglasias.”
Me: “Oh whatever. Enrique Iglasias … Mark Anthony … sounds the same to me.”
D: “The names sound absolutely nothing alike.”
Me: “You know what I meant!”
D: “You are the closet racist, not me.”
Me: “Wow.”

(in response to a discussion about a husband wanting an “exercise pole” in the house against his wifes will)

Me: “Any man that wants a stripper pole in the house and the wife doesn’t … that just screams infidelity.”
D: “He SAID it was an exercise pole.”
Me: “It is an infidelity pole.”
D: “I am gonna put a stripper pole in the man cave.”
Me: “You have a motherfucking death wish.”
D: “I have hella seating.”
Me: “I will kill you.”
D: “There are tools down there to install it.”
Me: “You are joking.”
D: “There are MIRRORS down there.”
Me: “There will be no pole ala stripper in my house.”
D: “That is why the man cave is in the garage now.”
Me: “Die.”
D: “I am just saying. OH! There is MUSIC out there too!!!!!”
Me: “I am going to poison you.”
D: “Babe, it is all for you.”
Me: “Yeah because I am gonna walk out to the “Man Cave” and use the fucking stripper pole.”
D: “Why cant we have one?”
Me: “We can have one when we have our own wing in our house.”
D: “Really?”
Me: “Yep. Because if we have a pole, we need a swing and one of those rocking chair dong ride thingies.”
D: “I really love you.”
Me: “Duh.”

If you could only listen to one song for the rest of your life, which song would you choose?
If you were asked to choose which time you would like to live in, which century would you choose?

Tags: love, marriage, pillow talk, Relationships

TMIThursday: A Hole Surprise

Feb 24, 2010 Sex, TMI Thursday's, love, pillow talk

Welcome to TMIT! Lilu is the founder of the awesome awfulness … so go show her and all of the other TMIT contributors some pukeinyourmouth trainwreckyoucantturnaway love.

Do it.

Speaking of doing it … Ms. DC Princess has the TMIT floor today. She is my blog partner in crime. If you read me, then you need to read her blog as well as her regular editorial on relationships.

Don’t make me cut you.

Who doesn’t like to be woken up by the soft touch of your man’s hand on your boobs? Or ya know, when spooning turns into forking when you’re in that beautiful state between being asleep and being awake?

I kind of love that.

You know what’s better?

Waking up as you’re about to cum. Best feeling EVER.

The Boy and I like to sleep naked on the nights when we think we’re going to get a little frisky after we’ve slept a little and wake up for a surprise attack initiated by either of us.

Usually…this isn’t a problem. If spooning leads to forking, there is usually some feeling around involved so he doesn’t go near the “UHOH” place but we’ve had some pretty nice wake up calls in the last 5 months.

Then…

A little slip-up.

I’m pretty sure we were both sleeping for 90 percent of the following events:

We were spooning and I could feel that he was about to sleep-attack me and I let myself relax more. The next thing I remember is thinking “Ow…” as I tried to tell him that HE NEEDED TO MOVE HIS PENIS. “Ow…baby, not there…OK…no…”

I don’t think I said it loud enough and there was a little bit more prodding before we both got conscious enough to fix the problem, and ya know, bang it out. And it was gooooood.

A couple of hours later, when we WERE awake, the Boy told me that he was having a dream where it was our first time and I was trying to get away from him while consciously thinking: “Hmm…she’s drier than usual.”

So yeah. THAT happened.

I’m just glad this incident didn’t coincide with my NOTBUTTSEKSRELATED that I got in the first month of our relationship…

Could you imagine the theories?

Still…late night sneak attacks are my favorite for sure. Just…NOT IN THE BUTT.

There you have it folks. Feel free to email me at wickedcourtni@gmail.com with your guest TMIT postings. You don’t have to be a blogger or identified in the post. I am looking for any and all TMIT postings.

Carry on.

Tags: buttsecks, dc princess, live it love it, pqnation, tmithursday

TMIThursday: Barfy Valentines Day, Honey!

Feb 10, 2010 Relationships, Sex, TMI Thursday's, Yum... or Lack There Of., love

Hello my gluttons for TMIThursday punishment!

As always — check out Ms. Lilu for making this recurring day of nastyness that we all kind-of look forward to possible. She rocks, in case you didn’t know.

This TMIT posting comes from Ms. Squishy over at squishisms.com. She is not only one of my besties, but a kick ass blogger. You should read her because she exudes awesomeness.

It’s been 361 days since it happened. I had plans for a girls night with the Teridactyl. This, of course, meant Irish had to find something to do. Luckily for him a friend of ours got laid off that day. Or maybe it was the day he found a new job? I don’t really remember, and it’s moot. The point is – I went out with my girl and our coworkers, and Irish went out with the boys.

It was our first night out without each other since we started dating, a little over eight months. My night started with happy hour – to celebrate 30 Days of NonSmoking with a CoWorker who had quit smoking the same day I did. (Tho, he didn’t really quit, just quit where I could see him – but I didn’t find that out til later.) My drinking began at 4 PM on the dot.

At 11 I was ready for karaoke. It. Was. Time. I could handle anything, including that smoke-filled dive bar full of temptations I’d sworn off – cigarettes being nowhere near the top. And I thought it was time to bring the groups together. Irish’s boys and my crew could all meet at Rags.

But when I called, Irish slurred that he was heading home. He was “shhhhhleeeeeeeeeepy.”

/shrug

But… the longer we drove, and it’s at least a half hour from South Austin, where we were, to North Austin, where my car was, the more tired I grew. My buzz was wearing off and I wanted out of my clothes and into a warm comfy bed…and preferably wakeup wellsexed to boot.

SO I skipped karaoke and came home. Before midnight on a Friday night.

CanISayHowAwesomeItIsToNotHaveToStayOutAllNightToGetLaid?

But when I got home, all the lights were off. This was before the dogs or the roommate, so the house was CREEPYQuiet. Irish was passed the hell out. Didn’t even twitch when I came in and turned on the bedside light. And he was on his stomach, which is odd for him. I undressed, kissed his shoulder, resigned myself to sexlessness, contemplated masturbation, rejected it, climbed into bed and went to sleep…

For all of a few hours… and then something woke me roud about 4 AM.

Quick shallow breathing.

Quiet grunts.

And right as I opened my mouth to alert Irish to the fact that there was someone in the apartment, something hit the back of my head. Something warm and something that DID NOT smell so good.

Yeah. My fiance vomited IN MY HAIR. IN HIS SLEEP.

On Valentine’s Day.

Our FIRST Valentine’s Day.

I rinsed my hair off quietly, made sure he was on his side so he didn’t die…and went to the couch.

And then I knew what love is…

Yep.

(To be fair: (And because he says I have to include it) He did make me steak and cheddar potatoes for dinner. AND AN ICE CREAM CAKE. While Hungover. <3)

Would you rather…

* Be handcuffed to a bed, naked, in the middle of a highway?
* Have pictures of you being handcuffed to a bed, naked, on the Internet?

Tags: karaoke, love, tmit, tmithursday, valentines day