I met this Dutch guy at a Mexican hostel. It was a great holiday fling; he spoke lots of languages and had a really big dick. We never saw each other again, but we’ve been sexting for five years—even though he got married in 2010. When he says he wants to shove his cock down my throat … I don’t like that one. For one, it’s too big.
I was in an LDR: Boston to San Fran. He was great at using emojis to create dirty images. Like: eggplant + doughnut = splash; bananas, cherries, and lots of finger signs into a doughnut. And he could really write: “Let’s go hump in the park”; “You ready to get peed on?”; “I need you to drink from my furry faucet”; “Not one, not 2, but 3 fingers in your ass”; “You watchin a movie? My nuts hurt.”
I lost my virginity at 16 to my best friend’s dad. She found out when she called me a “fag” once, and I told her I had her dad bent over her kitchen counter for three years. Not long after, the parents divorced.
I was about to graduate from high school a virgin and was pretty annoyed with myself for holding out so long. So I called up my friend, who was a total dog. He’d slept with, like, 30 women, so I figured there was a chance he might not suck in bed. It still sucked.
I was on a kibbutz and it was my 17th birthday. I was madly in love; I called him my Jewish Kurt Cobain. I brought over peach iced tea spiked with cheap vodka, and everyone knew what we were up to. It hurt a little, of course.
I lost my virginity to my now-husband. We were high-school sweethearts, and he’d only slept with one girl before me. It’s weird how people feel bad for me, like I’ve missed out on so much. But I love sex with him. I always have and probably always will.
We had a same-sex marriage and felt quite celebratory. During the wedding, we pretended we had more photos to take outside. No one noticed.
We had like two hours in between our wedding and the reception, so we came back to our place and my man aggressively tried to impregnate me. Then he took a nap. He was coming down with the flu.
I was just as tired as my wife, but there was no way I was letting us just go to sleep. So I drew us a bath, with candles and rose petals, and told her sex was nonnegotiable. She got a second wind.
We had sex in the limo from our wedding to our party. I was in my white Vera Wang dress. My only regret is that I think the limo driver saw and heard everything. I wish we gave him a bigger tip.
It was 4 a.m., and it was in our own bed. We got married at home, so it was me in boxers and a T-shirt and him in the same, having a quickie before passing out. At least we had a fat wad of cash on the nightstand.
It was my first job in the film business, and my boss would take me around to places I “had to see” … but no action. He was an Ironman guy, so I called him “Mr. Run-Bike-Swim” to tease him. One night, he went on a long training session. When he came back late in the evening, I was reading scripts at my desk. He called me into the office and, just like that, I had his ass bent over his desk. Now he is an executive producer on one of the most successful shows on TV.
One time, after my boss had been an asshole all day, I fucked my girlfriend hard all over his desk.
At 26, I started working for a rich, powerful, married CEO. My position required a lot of travel with him, so the majority of our sex was inside lavish hotel rooms. Early on, he told me to pull on his dick really hard and tell him it was small and ugly. Soon, he asked that I call him a slut and a whore. His favorite was when I teased that he got his period and was a bad, bad girl (this, followed by tampons inserted into his ass). We’d meet in an office bathroom so that he could “clean” my vagina. He loved the degradation of licking me front to back, as if he were the toilet paper. He’d have me meet him in crowded elevators to hand off my dirty panties—the dirtier the better; he’d beg that I pee a little in them. Then he’d wear them while giving interviews and presentations. I fell deeply in love with him and have never been quite the same since.
My boyfriend had an office with a glass window and a little curtain shielding him from his colleagues. We’d shut the curtain and do it under his desk. Afterward, we’d have the munchies; he’d go to the vending machine in the coffee room and get cookies and chips.
I got a BJ in my conference room at my office two times by two different people. It’s the only place that doesn’t have security cameras. The first was my intern, and the other was a guy who needed my help fixing his résumé.
My ex was a dermatologist. I’d visit him at work. He’d tell the nurses I was getting Botox.