Confessions.of.a.NYC.Lezie

I call her phone when I get to her Murray Hill Apt doorstep.

She answers quietly, but I hear footsteps on the stairs inside and the door opens to me.

She lets me in, and I kick off my stilletos.

I grab her shirt in my fist, and pull her behind me up the stairs to her room. I have yet to say a word.

We close the door behind us, and she swoops in for a kiss. Her lips hit mine, then part and let her tongue flick into my mouth.

I pull myself against her; urging her to open her mouth wider, force her to kiss me harder, deeper. We’re groping at each other, but I step back, breaking the kiss.

I walk backwards a few feet, and start pulling off my work clothes. first, I unbutton my shirt and yank it off. Next I pull my tank top over my head, followed quickly by my bra.

I hear her sharp intake of breath... she wants to touch but I’m not done.

I unbutton my pants, let them fall to the ground and then kick them away. My thong is the last thing to come off... I peel them down, away from my hot body.

She closes the distance between us quickly, and i'm caught up in her embrace... her hands run over my bare skin, yearning to touch everything at once and frustrated that she hasn't the patience to take her time.

In a blink, she's down to her bra. I push her lips from mine and push her backwards onto her bed. As she sits on the edge, I sink between her legs and pull off the last of her clothing; the only thing between the meeting of naked flesh.

I stare up into her eyes right before I start a luscious rhythm I play out with my mouth. She moans

I feel her tensing up, and she tells me she is close. I speed up my movements.

I could feel the movement of her climax before it comes, and then I feel her release with a groan.

I got up, kissed her gently and said that I had to go back to work.

"I need to iron my shirt. I have a meeting in 1/2 hr" I said.

She stayed there motionless with a smile of satisfaction.

I understand I have been MIA. I actually don’t have a valid reason so I wont lie and come up with the biggest bullshit.

Since yesterday I have been in these lectures/meeting kind of things. It takes up my entire day, I am forced to eat lunch with assholes and laugh at corny jokes. BFF NYU is obviously not here today to keep me busy while talking to some CEO/Editorial staff fuckers. So since I was stuck in a lecture hall talking about the upcoming international affairs and editorial pieces for the fall, I decided to text BFF NYU and find out what she is up to. Come to find out, she was getting a Brazilian.

And so I thought of this – sex and Brazilian.

I can seriously count on both hands good things about not having sex on a regular basis. Besides not catching any STDs (which I am extremely careful about) or getting pregnant (not in my case) or kick the person out of your house the next morning, or having to explain to them that you really have to be somewhere at a certain time.

I remember back in College when I went for my Brazilian. It was a huge phenomenon that practically everyone heard of or had it done. So me, little ole’ me went downtown to a spa where my mother frequents. I was obviously scared shitless. 1) Because I always shaved my lady parts and that was that and 2) no one gets close to my Vag with hot wax and strip of fucking cloth.

Call me ignorant. I don’t care. But once I started college, I heard that every girl did it. So shaving was so passé and the new hit thing to do was the Brazilian. My girls are all from NY, and so I thought they were all like me, only breaking out their Gillette triple blades to do the magic work or for others trim it down to prevent a bush and cause some Amazonian wilderness.

Not so.

My roommate back in college was the first one to try the Brazilian. Because I was clearly a pussy. For those of you not in the know, a bikini wax is simply a wax around your bikini line. A Brazilian, however, removed every inch of hair from your lady parts. And you better believe those lady parts include the two hole. All the they leave behind is a little landing strip, that let's face it, could have flashing lights and a big arrow and most people couldn't find my clitoris. I recently went back for my Brazilian at the same place downtown. I was actually more nervous than the last time – maybe because I knew that it fucking hurt. But why do It you may ask? Because it’s sexy and smooth. Obviously, NYC.Lezie’s private lady part enjoys a smooth ride.

The host sat me down, I watched carefully for any sign of facial expression that told me that “hey, do NOT go in” but alas, none. They were all happy. There was no screaming. I thought to myself “if these little skinny ass bimbos JAPS can do it, why can’t I? First of all, totally forgot to mention, when you make your appointment, they ask you not to shave for like 2 weeks. – geez.

Finally a cute lady calls me into her chamber of vagina death. She asks me to undress from the waist down (hey lady, you going to at least buy me a drink first?), and then climb up on the table that’s only made for tall girls. I am not kidding. I had to use some major deltoids muscles.

I lied and told her that it was my first time, and to please be careful cause I liked my lady part very much. I figured she’d go easy on me if it was my first time. She applies the very hot wax the front of my bikini line, applies the paper, pulls my skin taught, and !!!!!!!!!!!!

Holy fucking hell that hurt. She applied more wax, puts another strip down in a location near where she removed the hair before, and [insert all the cuss words in the foul language dictionary]I started to tear. Not happy tears fuckers. More like shit, I just fucking broke my arm kind of pain.This goes on for a few minutes, and it's agony.

Then she applies the wax a little farther back. Oh no no no no lady. Not there. Not there. Not there. Rrrrrriiiiiiippppppp!And there goes my vulva. I swear to God no one's labia was as attached to its pubic hair as mine was. I just shivered thinking about it.

Oh no, but it's not over yet. She keeps moving farther back. Oh you know where this is going. she applies the wax to my 2-hole. And I wait. And wait. And wait. Nothing.I relax a little and [insert all the cuss words in the foul language dictionary]

Oh.my.god.Once she is done with the longest 3-5 minutes of my life, she rubs powder all over me, but what I really want is a shot of morphine.

And believe it or not, just writing that just got my Vag hurting and throbbing. Not in a good sexy way either.

Text from an ex (Let's call her Bible - she's the girl next door, hallelujah praise the Lord Amen church kinda girl but fucks like a pornstar):

"There's a bit of me that thinks we should have one big night and then call it a day and delete each others numbers from our phones."

Who the hell does she think she is? I hope she was high on crack, because she obviously has no idea who she is dealing with. what am I... a piece of meat?

First reaction: So all this time we've been having "pleasant" conversations about our lives, you've been wishing I'd shut up and/or initiate a bout of text sex? Well isn't that just lovely. You know what? maybe we should do that. Or maybe we should skip the sex and I'll just delete you anyway.

Second reaction: But then again, she is hot , in a serious i'mgettingmarried relationship, and she has balls to talk to me that way - it kinda turned me on - just a little.

This led me to the other thought and I have encountered plenty of these situations. The writer and I have this inside joke about sex, we have both dated someone where damn, the sex just fucking sucked. Usually it was because the other person was droning. You can only put your best foot forward so much before you eventually lose all interest and fall asleep.

Which led to our catch phrase: If the appetizer doesn’t look good, then skip the dessert.

For a long time, we would use this in front of potential daters and they would have no idea what we were talking about. After a couple of times of bad sex with this one girl, The Writer had an opportunity for a threesome with her friend. I was like NOOOOOOOOO, the appetizer is no good! I witnessed the friend slobbering someone in the face like a bulldog salivating at the sight of fresh meat.Her reply and an amendment to the previous rule: But perhaps if combined with another dish, the dessert will be better.

I think we have all had those situations where the appetizer’s not that good. I mean if the girl’s going to treat the appetizer like an object, ignore the dessert, then roll over and not finish it, why even eat at all?

Bad appetizers/desserts has gotten me on the verge of anorexia.