Why I Locked Them All Down

Back in the Saddle

Photograph by Daniel Dolpire

I think I made a huge mistake.


I jumped the gun when I locked down Boy Toy. Oxy is a helluva drug.


I wasn't wrong in locking him down. My mistake was thinking I'd want to lock him and only him down.

Slut Shaming, Miscommunication And Amazing Sex

Back in the Saddle

I saw George again. A week had passed since we'd last been together when I received a text from him during rush hour which read, "You must be in need of a massage later".


I will never decline his invites (as long as I'm free) due to his track record of sexing me down and his actual massages. We settled on the when and the what I should bring with me:  massage oil -- and condoms.

I'm working with a good stash so that wasn't an issue. The issue came moments later.

The Oxy Made Me Lock Him Down

Back in the Saddle

The "him" I locked down is in fact my Boy Toy. The entry  --"The Oxy Made Me Lock Him Down" -- from my Back in the Saddle series has been published in Senshēǝnt Magazine!

Senshēǝnt Magazine is for the 'sexually empowered woman' and allows access to a wealth of experience and information. Check out the magazine here! 

Join us on Facebook to share your personal experiences and expansion! 

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The Brief Wondrous Life of My FWB

Back in the Saddle

Our view from the water

Before George, before my Boy Toy, there was Fuddy.


To be really honest, our hookup was more for him than for me. I'd already vowed I was done providing the warm, healing embrace of my vagina to men who were going through shit, had issues, not up to par etc. Once you state something, it is so. I was also off the heels of the man I said I'd never do and had no intention on settling for sex of a lesser quality.


It turns out with Fuddy, once was enough. We can look back on it as the way we commemorated his 3-year anniversary of coming to NY and we have a hysterical memory to boot.

Doin' It In The Park

Back in the Saddle

Looking for the tale of how Boy Toy and I got acquainted in the park? 

That entry -- "Doin' It In The Park" -- from my Back in the Saddle series has been published in Senshēǝnt Magazine!

Senshēǝnt Magazine is for the 'sexually empowered woman' and allows access to a wealth of experience and information. Check out the premier issue here! 

Join us on Facebook to share your personal experiences and expansion! 

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The Man I Said I'd Never Do

Back in the Saddle

To the one who started (or ended) it all

Source

We met during the FIFA Confederations Cup. Unfortunately, I wasn't in Brazil for the tournament. I watched the host country battle Uruguay on the big screen, broadcast in Portuguese, while I ate linguiça frita mandioca. A few days later, I watched Spain and Italy go to a 7-round penalty shootout, ginger beer in hand. On the day of the Brazil v Spain Championship game, I met a Mexican.


Juan Manuel Francisco Javier* didn't look "indigenous" (his words, not mine) and he was at least 5'10". Immediately after he told me he was an Afro-Cuban drummer (he broke down batá to me) and a saxophone player his hands and lips stood out even more; his hands screamed power, his lips fuller.

On Letting Him Come Over To My Place

Back in the Saddle

Chivas and condoms: After

It was like fucking Manuel Ferrara. Not that I've fucked Manuel Ferrara but I've watched enough of his movies and have been left exhausted by own French Manu in the past to get a pretty good idea what it'd be like.


While I was on top of my Italiano-Portoghese boy toy he held onto my breasts like handlebars. And the eye contact was the most intense I've had in a long time. I was afraid to blink! When he felt my body close around him he pulled me down on top of him and I was on the receiving end of those forceful upward thrusts I'm a sucker for. MS MR sang Bones while we boned.

Lay Your Hands On Me

Back in the Saddle

Source

Yes, this encounter includes a massage, just like my story of the same name, but this one ends differently. It begins differently too.


On a Sunday night, I, minding my business, checked my phone and saw 3 new text messages from George*.They'd been sent almost 2 hours prior. I was in another room yucking it up with friends and hadn't heard my phone ring.


I turned down George's invite to go over to his place. It was late and I had settled in to do some writing for the night. He revealed he was alone and figured he'd ask anyway. No harm, no foul. I teased him that he was gonna guilt me into saying yes but I really had to do my writing. If things were different on my end I would've just invited him over.


Text from George: No problem. just come here :)


I told him I wouldn't get much writing done at his place. For one of the few times in my life I didn't mean that with any adult or sexual undertone. I figured it would be like the first night George and I met and I went over to his place -- we'd sit and talk, he'd play his instruments, we'd sip on orange juice, he'd light up, we'd discuss art and the artist's life...


That's not what he had in mind this time.

He Only Plays with Pussies

Back in the Saddle

The first pussy he played with that day

It all started with his question: Want to meet? I was down. It'd been about a year since we'd last seen each other.


Wait, here's a little backstory:  I read an article about Bushwick and they mentioned his cafe. I sent him the text: Bonjour! Ca va? It's been a long time! I told him about the article I'd read, asked how he was, he asked if I wanted to meet, fast forward to:


I wasn't up for meeting him that Sunday night. He text me:  It will be hard to wait until tomorrow... I wanted to kiss you everywhere, to lick you everywhere...


Well, that's one thing he didn't lie about. I said I could meet him halfway, that I wasn't going to Bushwick etc. especially if it's late. He suggested brunch on Monday because that's his day off. I was game thinking it'd be at a restaurant. He text: We can have brunch at my place, I'm a cook, remember... Yes, i will pay for your cabs.. (I told him I wasn't taking the train out there). He asked me if I "prefer a shaved face or not". I told him I like facial hair to which he responded: So, I don't shave...

Timing is Everything

Back in the Saddle

"Imagine if that had happened five minutes earlier," he said to me. My eyes widened as I considered the possibility.


5 minutes earlier, I was on all fours. He was on his knees behind me making a ruckus. I hushed him and told him to stop slapping my ass because the sound was reverberating off the bridge nearby and would attract attention. He bent over, resting his torso on my back and whispered his raunchy comments and commands in to my ear.


We sat in the field with the majority of our clothes back in place. My fuck buddy or Fuddy, sat to my left. We made small talk enjoying the breeze against our skin that remained exposed. I showed him something on my phone and happened to look to my right and could make out a figure in the dark approaching at a high rate of speed. Not a five or six foot human form -- but a small furry figure only a few inches tall -- hurtling towards me in the grass. My mind barely processed what was happening. I exhaled and screamed while scrambling over my belongings and Fuddy. All the while I was bracing myself for the brush of fur or a bite.

He Made Me Do It

Back in the Saddle

I had an intensely charged encounter with a gorgeous man. We got as far as fingers and mouths. Lucky to even get that far, we continuously reminded ourselves not to get our hopes up. It quickly became our inside joke. We were parting ways when he told me he wanted me to email him what would happen the next time we saw one another. I protested that he was giving me homework and I didn't like it. He told me to include pics to help get my story across. I chuckled to myself because he had no clue what I could do with only words. What if I don't write it I asked. He didn't have a definitive response.

"No punishment?" I asked. 

Armed and Protected

Back in the Saddle

My current condom stash with your occasional lube thrown in

I'm a condom-carrying member of the sexually active.


As I packed my bag before heading out for the night, I made sure my chapstick and lotion were accounted for, business cards and gum, threw out old receipts and flyers and made sure I had regular and extra large condoms, lubricated and not or ultra sensitive as Lifestyles like to call theirs. I also throw a couple Durex in there to give my Europeans a piece of home. The signature Magnum gold is a given. I haven't mastered female condoms yet (those things are slippery!) so I leave those home for now. I carry condoms in the same compartment with my pads and tampons. Just makes sense to me to keep all the Kitty products together.


Since I started having sex, I've always carried condoms. During my recent drought, my condoms taunted me in my bag, but they stayed put. I remember the sideways comment an ex made about why I was still carrying them even though we were together. "Dude, because we're fucking," I wanted to say but the young Abigail just screwed up her face and rolled her eyes.

Back In The Saddle

Back in the Saddle

How many of you remember this post: Random Musings on Empty Vaginas? Yes, that was a long time ago. The struggle was real. There were fits and starts.


The struggle is over.


In true life fashion, resuming relations with men has come with its fair share of blog-worthy, smile-inducing, cringe-worthy, WTF and oh, Oh, OH! moments.


On my HowAboutWe profile, I answered the question -- For me, a first date no-no is: with "giving me something to blog about instead of something to text my friend about". Oh, my adventures have consisted of both.

One Woman's Struggle with Celibacy.

How I got My Groove Back.

She's Gotta Have It... and How She's Getting It.

(Pick a subtitle... any will do)


I will share those tales and lessons in my Back in the Saddle series. I may not have the life years under my belt that Sophia Petrillo has but I've got anecdotes for days. Picture it...

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