Once a week, Daily Intel takes a peek behind doors left slightly ajar. This week, the Woman With Two Lovers Trying to Hide Bruises From Rough Sex: female, fashion buyer, 24, Williamsburg, straight, single.
DAY ONE
11 a.m.: I get a text from Always Horny Guy. We make plans to meet at 12:30. I purposely eat before meeting him because I know we are going to either (1) have sex first or (2) be stuck waiting for a table for Saturday brunch.
12:30 p.m.: AHG greets me at the door in a towel. I knew it was smart of me to eat beforehand. I blow him on the couch and he brings me to the bed and fucks me. He starts using what he thinks is dirty talk. It’s been a while and I forgot that he’s the absolute worst at dirty talk. All he does is throw the words “slut” and “whore” around. I nearly burst out laughing when he says, “Be sluttier, slut.” Worst instructions ever! I’m biting my lip smiling pretending to quiver when really I’m trying not to laugh at the words coming out of his mouth an the sexy face he has on. He’s a bit boring and only likes me on my back but I come, and he comes, so I’m happy. We clean up and go to brunch.
2:30 p.m.: After brunch we go back to his apartment to hang out before I meet a friend for a movie. He’s still horny and I’m running late, but we see how fast I can give him a hand job before I have to leave. It takes me twelve minutes. He tells me to call him after I’m done with movie.
5 p.m.: Movie is over. I contemplate texting AHG, but he’s been kind of selfish the whole day, so I decide against it and head home in the rain.
DAY TWO
8 a.m.: I go to spin class and run six miles on the West Side Highway. Cute men are everywhere but they all look very focused on running. How do you approach someone when they’re running anyways? I don’t think I’d like to be approached. I’d probably have saliva all over the place should someone stop me.
11 p.m.: Bad Tattoos Guy, my ex from last year who now has a girlfriend, calls me. I tell him I’m not meeting up with him tonight. He calls me lame and calls back five times. He offers to get me a car service, tells me he’ll fuck my brains out. He tells me he’s in the mood for Chinese. He tells me I still have twenty minutes to change my mind before he starts to help himself. He asks if I got what he meant by “helping himself.” No shit. I got it. Why do I only go for men who are terrible at talking dirty? And no, not leaving the house. You live in Queens!!!
DAY THREE
10 a.m.: Day at work starts. Nothing terribly eventful. I flirt via e-mail with my gay but straight-looking friend. We’ve made plans to partake in running club tomorrow morning at 6:30 a.m.
DAY FOUR
5:30 a.m.: Wake up, snooze for fifteen minutes, head to track. So many good-looking men trying to catch my eye! How am I not out here more often at 6 a.m.?? I find my gay straight-looking friend. Clearly there was false advertising since everyone is faster than the publicized pace. I get frustrated and leave after three miles since I’m in the dust anyways.
7:45 a.m.: Catch train to spin class. I text gay straight-looking friend to apologize for copping out. Text from AHG to see what I’m doing. He asks if I can come over. Hells no! Booty call at this hour??
9 a.m.: More texts from AHG asking just to talk. He tells me he’s in pain like he was last year when he contracted chlamydia. I start fuming at the idea of him blaming me. We had sex only three days ago and we used a condom. I’m pretty sure symptoms don’t appear that fast, and I got tested recently and came back clean. I tell him I’ll meet him after work.
2 p.m.: BTG starts texting me and tells me he’s free either tonight or tomorrow. I entertain him and tell him how horny I am and start getting descriptive with how rough I want him to get with me. He writes back, “Wear nice undes. I’m in mood to tess you and dominate you.” I hate that he’s dyslexic and a terrible speller. Sexting with spelling errors does not turn me on … although my mind starts wandering and I’m wet pretty fast and am biting my lip. I remember I’m in an office with several people around me so I compose myself.
6:30 p.m.: I meet AHG at his apartment. I’m surprised he actually wants to talk. He’s been feeling pain in his right testicle, which extended to his abdomen, and went to the doctor earlier. They told him jerking off might relieve pressure and help the pain. He pulls his pants down and asks if I can help him.
6:45 p.m.: I did not see this coming. I give him pity hand job. The same terrible dirty talk comes out. I get called a whore and a slut and am asked to “be sluttier, slut.” He throws out the word “bitch” and I stop him there. He apologizes immediately. I don’t know why “bitch” gets to me.
7:15 p.m.: AHG and I are eating pasta. I ignore text from Bad Tattoo Guy asking me to blow off date and go blow him instead.
DAY FIVE
5 p.m.: Text BTG telling me “Ironically I had Chinese food last night”; I don’t think he’s using irony in correct context. His cheesy Chinese references are getting boring. But he’s making an effort, so I humor him and tell him that I’m probably tastier.
7 p.m.: Shower quickly and pick out trashiest underwear I own. BTG gets aggressive and rips everything. He doesn’t appreciate expensive lingerie. It’s not very trashy. It’s still Calvin Klein.
8 p.m.: Trek to Queens to meet BTG.
8:30 p.m.: BTG greets me at the door and tells me he’s paid his roommate to stay out until 10:30 p.m. We get started right away. He takes off my shirt and sees a bruise on my collarbone and asks who else I’ve been fucking. It’s actually a scar from an allergic reaction I had to a mosquito bite a few weeks back, but I don’t bother correcting him. I pout and tell him no one as good as he is. He turns me around and gives me a good spanking. He doesn’t allow me to touch him yet. He starts teasing me mercilessly by only slipping his pinkie in me. I beg him to put another finger in me and he tells me never to tell him what to do. He yanks my hair from behind and tells me he’s going to make me sorry that I fucked someone else. I love it. He eats me out and bites my thigh and my ass really aggressively. I start screaming because it actually really hurts. He finally pushes himself inside in me and starts pounding hard.
9 p.m.: He comes. We shower.
9:17 p.m.: Round 2. Not so rough this time. We are spooning and his hands are wandering up and down my body. He slows down near my neck and holds it tight. He knows I like to be choked. He tells me that his penis really loves my pussy. He tells me this every time.
9:45 p.m.: He comes. We clean up. I start getting dressed to leave and he asks that I stay a bit longer because he wants to talk. I’m hesitant to stay but agree. Out of nowhere, skeletons are coming out of his closet. He starts confiding in me about his fear of his relationship with his girlfriend, the new company he’s starting, and the pressure he is feeling from his family to start a family. I’m getting bored. I cut him off and tell him I’m not giving him babies. He tells me he doesn’t want my babies. He goes on to tell me he’s not able to have conversations like these with anyone else. He calls me his sexual psychiatrist. He finally stops talking and starts fingering me.
10 p.m.: I don’t know what’s going on, how many fingers are in me, near me. I don’t really care, either; I’m squirming around with delight. He flips me over, bites my nipple hard and I finally come. We hear the roommate come home. Fuck me. My window for leaving unnoticed just closed. We start talking about his first sexual experiences and he tells me that the best blow job of his life with his first one when he was 15 and she was using her teeth.
10:30 p.m.: Round 3. Sort of. Ten minutes in he loses his erection. We doze off.
DAY SIX
5 a.m.: We are both sort of awake. We are spooning and we start rubbing against each other. It’s not working. We doze off again.
5:30 a.m.: We try again. Still not working.
6:40 a.m.: The alarm he set for us to wake up so I can leave before his roommate catches me goes off. I’m determined to get another round in. I did not spend the night in Queens for no reason. He sleepily tells me he thinks it’s broken. I ignore him and start jerking him off and he gets hard. I get on top. Twenty minutes in he loses his erection and dozes off again. So close.
7 a.m.: I get dressed. He gives me a high-five from bed and I leave. I don’t bother scanning the room to see if I’ve left anything. I secretly want his girlfriend to catch him. I also take a lot of pleasure knowing that he has to clean up his room with painstaking attention to detail after me to make sure that there are no traces of my hair or anything else left behind.
8 a.m.: I’m home and looking in the mirror. I’m totally fucked. Fucker totally marked his territory. I see small bruises starting to form all over from playing so rough. The skin around my mouth is dry and peeling from making out with his hairy face. I look disgusting. I shower and lather on moisturizer and head to work.
8 p.m.: Looking in the mirror again. I’m totally fucked. The bruises are darker and I find more. I can’t see AHG this weekend looking like this.
DAY SEVEN
8 a.m.: The snooze button is going off every ten minutes. I reach around for my vibrator but I’m too tired to bring it close to me.
8:45 a.m.: I turn on my vibrator but the damn thing is running low on batteries. I squeeze really hard, willing it to work. The motor is going as slow as a turtle. I go to the living room and take batteries out of the remote control and go back to bed. I replace the batteries.
9 a.m.: I come. I get up, make breakfast, and go to work.
5 p.m.: Text from AHG. Wants to know if I’m around. Why on earth would I be around? I don’t live or work near you. I pretend to be busy and make mental note to text him later in the evening. I can’t meet right now anyways. I need to go home to drop off my Alexander Wang bag because it might rain tonight.
7:45 p.m.: Another text from AHG checking in. I’m in a food coma and don’t feel like meeting anyone. I just want to sleep it off. I tell him I’ll touch base with him later.
9:30 p.m.: I find a cage bra from Kiki de Montparnasse I like on Shopbop. I e-mail link to BTG. I hope he doesn’t buy it for his girlfriend instead or pull some type of sneaky regifting shit.
10:30 p.m.: I set my alarm for 6:30 a.m. and fall asleep.
TOTALS: 1 act of oral sex received, 2 acts of oral sex given, 2 hand jobs received, 1 pity hand job given, 1 proper hand job given, 3 actual acts of intercourse, 2 failed attempts of intercourse, 2 half-successful acts of intercourses, 2 acts of masturbation, 2 bad sexts received, 1 therapy session given, 3 big bruises received.
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