Friday, August 10, 2012

The Lazy Lover

One online date, I thought I’d hit the jackpot for a perfect fuck. He was immensely handsome with dark hair and a great body. We hit it off, and I took him back to my place that night. I didn’t want to any waste time getting to know him like the good Lord intended.

We were all over each other as soon as we got back to my place. It was incredibly hot. We were on my bed in no time. We ripped our clothes off, and he entered me. Five seconds later, he came.

What the fuck? I thought as I lay there with him coming on top of me. Did I black out and miss all the action? Did I just go back in time to the first time I had sex and didn't feel anything?

He rolled off of me and started to relax in my bed. No worries, I thought. He can make up for it by going down on me, or we can play with some of my toys. Hopefully his meat cleaver would be ready for action again in a few minutes.

…But nothing. He didn’t even budge.

Frustrated as fuck, I reached under my bed and took matters into my own hands. Literally. Thank god my vibrator was always ready and willing to please me. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“Playing with myself. Feel free to join me anytime,” I said.

No luck. He just lay there, limp as his tiny wiener. My ability to come despite my surroundings is almost godlike. I was able to get off despite this stranger lying beside me, not participating.

I tried to give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he just got too excited. Could I blame him? I mean, look at me. Or maybe he’s a little intimidated, inexperienced, whatever. Maybe in the middle of the night or in the morning he’ll be better prepared.

In the morning, he gets his a.m. boner, and we have sex again. It’s all about him. It’s all about what his meat popsicle wants; nothing about me.

“Hey, let’s try this…” I suggested.

“No, I like it like this.”

Are you kidding me right now? You’re in my bed for Christ’s sake! I let him finish because I’m a ridiculously good person (and I knew it would only take a few seconds). After he finished, I told him I’m really busy, and he needs to leave.

I didn’t call him at all for another date. Why would I? My bidet shows my undercarriage more affection than he did. But he (of course) called me. I tell him I’m not interested, and he wants to know why.

“You’re a lazy lover. Sex was all about you.”

“What? How is that?”

“You didn’t please me or even attempt to please me!”

“I’m really sorry, Sienna. Let me make it up to you. Please? We can do whatever you want in the bedroom.”

With an offer like that, how could I refuse?

So we went on another date. Over drinks we really hit it off. I hoped this was foreshadowing for how the rest of the night would play out.

When we got back to my place, I was all prepared to have a good time in bed. After all, he said I could do what I wanted. We got to my bed, and I straddle him. I suck on his cock a little then come back up to ride him. I’m just teasing him at this point; I have other things up my sleeve.

I was determined to make this fuck session last more than two minutes this time. While I’m working my magic, he keeps trying to flip me. He was trying to take control again. My pussy was livid. We deserved better!

“Listen, I’m not going to do this if you don’t let me do it. You said I could have it any way I wanted it,” I told him.

He nodded his consent.

“Good,” I smirked. “You’re in for a treat.”

I reached under my bed and grabbed a black blindfold. I wanted to give him head while he wore it, but he absolutely freaked. You would have thought I had asked him to bend over so I could shove a giant dildo up his pasty ass cheeks.

“Get that off of me!” he shouted. He ripped the blindfold out of my hands and threw it on the ground. “I won’t wear that.”

“Are you fucking with me? It’s only a blindfold.”

Apparently that was him trying to be playful with me. I didn’t bother telling him that jokes should be left outside of my bedroom.

“Go down on me,” I said, trying to keep the mood alive.

“Let’s have sex first,” he insisted.

“I thought tonight was supposed to be about me? If you’re not going to eat me out, get the hell out of my house.”

“Are you serious?”

“Are YOU?”

He grabbed his clothes and left in complete disbelief. This guy was a total joke. How could he demand to be pleasured, but I couldn’t? My pussy has much higher standards, pal. She deserves to be treated like the fucking lady she is.

Afterward he kept emailing me trying to go back out with me, but I ignored them. A few months later, he had the balls to call me. I had already deleted his number, so I answered it by mistake. He said we should go out again because we had such an amazing time together and great sex.

I was in shock and couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

“Maybe the sex was good for you, but it was horrible for me,” I said. “A five-second fuck completely revolving around your little chode isn’t exactly my definition of a good time. If you aren’t willing to go down on me, then you’re not worthy of fucking my pussy. I don’t want to see you again or have sex with you. I’m going to hang up now and please don’t call me again.”

And that was the end to that.

- Sienna Sinclaire® - The Single Girl®: Your Naughty Lifestyle Guide

Thursday, August 2, 2012

Online Dates Gone Bad

The Internet provides the perfect buffet of cocks for any eager beaver. There are plenty of men; dicks of all shapes and talents, all ready and willing to bone. I enjoy online dating, because it saves my vagina and me some precious time. I don’t have a lot of time to meet every cock on the block. My pussy is a work-at-home girl. We’re not always out and about meeting people. The only kind of “bumping into” that I want to do involves my mattress and a cock ring.

So instead of wasting my evenings getting to know someone the old fashion way, I can spend my nights discovering the one thing a man’s online profile doesn’t tell me: The size and taste of his dick.

I’m not looking for “the one” online, just the one for the night. It doesn’t really bother me too much if the guy is shorter than he claims, or is dumb as doornail. As long as his cock works, I’m happy. Online dating has saved me a lot of time, but it’s also led me to some interesting people. Let me share of few of my stories with some real winners.

The Scottish Lad

This guy was even better looking in person than his sexy profile displayed. As soon as I saw him sitting down I was pleased, because he was ridiculously hot… until he stood up. I immediately noticed he was significantly shorter than he had stated on his profile. Usually, this isn’t a problem. After all, he’s still got the main prize dangling between his legs. That’s really all my pussy is interested in. That night however, I was wearing my five-inch heels, which made me tower over him. Men, the only time we want to be able to look over your head is when we’re on top of you, fucking. I quickly learned that anytime a guy claims to be 5’10,” he really means “I’m basically a midget, so wear your flats.”

We decided to meet for drinks to see if we liked each other. Translation: we were going to fuck and maybe head to dinner. When we got to the bar, he ordered me a drink and quickly asked me if I was going to want to eat. Wow, that was fast I thought. This guy may be shorter than I prefer, but he knew what he wanted. His dick and my vadge both had a one-track mind.

The only other problem with him is that he’s Scottish. It was incredibly difficult to understand his accent. Not exactly “ruggedly sexy” as he had described. Rugged yes, sexy not so much. My friends know I don’t like accents. I don’t like explaining what “go down on me” or “titty fuck me” means. You’re in America; if you want me to spread my legs and give you a proper welcome, learn the fuckin’ language. British accents don’t bother me too much, as long as they’re dignified.

As I was sitting there on our date, trying really hard to understand him, I couldn’t help but think about my own profile. Everything I say is absolutely correct. Okay, okay. Except for my boobs, which appear especially big and dapper in my picture. But dating profiles don't ask for you to list your boob size. That night, I was wearing an amazing push-up bra, and I couldn’t help noticing that he was oogling them. Not that I blame him; he was, after all, eye level with my breasts.

I sat through the entire dinner wondering what the fuck this little person was saying to me. I kept nodding like a freakin’ bobble head doll, hoping that when he moaned through sex I’d at least understand it.

Needless to say, I worked for that fuck. His height made it perfect for banging me and sucking my nipples simultaneously. It was glorious. Maybe I should give shorter people a try?

Then again, this little man either spent entirely too much time watching porn or he had a serious case of ADD. He couldn’t make up his mind when it came to sex positions. He would spin me and flip me like I was a fuckin’ rubrics cube. I couldn’t help but wonder if it’s just easier for short people to move like that. Most gymnasts are smaller, right? They can flip around with ease. Whatever it was, I had to tell this Scottish lad to slow things down if he wanted this American girl to come all over his cock.

The Pussy Bragger

I went out with this guy one night. The conversation quickly turned to sex (as it pretty much always does on a date). He couldn’t stop talking about how good he was at eating pussy. If it was an Olympic sport, according to this guy his tongue would win the gold.

I knew he wasn’t.

I’ve learned that if you’re rich, you don’t have to tell people how much you make. If you have a big cock, usually you’re not bragging about it. This guy claiming to be a god at oral sex made me confident that he didn’t have a fucking clue. Though he claimed every pussy he had dated sang his praises, I was pretty sure this guy had experienced a lot of fakers. That or they were just trying to be nice. Two things my vadge isn’t: a liar and a fake.

“Not every girl is the same,” I tried explaining to him. “The technique you used on one girl isn’t necessarily going to work on all of them.”

He licked his lips and nodded his head. “It does if it’s the technique I use, baby.”

Obviously, I had to test his alleged skills. My curiosity was piqued. I prayed I was wrong and the vagina gods in the sky had smiled on me by sending him. If he was some Picasso and my pussy was his canvas, there was no way I wanted to pass up an opportunity to experience a masterpiece. However, I knew, more than likely, he was only a kindergartner fucking up the watercolors.

So I made a deal with him. We decided our next date he’d come over to eat me out, so I could experience his skills. If he did well then we’d have sex, if not then he’d have to leave. I wouldn’t give him any direction down there to how I liked it (normally I help a guy out because I believe communication is key when fucking and I want to get off).

A week later, he came over to my place. We had a few drinks and fooled around to give me lady wood. Then we headed to my bedroom. I laid down on the bed while he went to town on my pussy.

I tried to get into it as he tried all his moves… but nothing. Trust me, if it felt good and I was getting off. I’d have no problem cumming. After twenty minutes, I knew it was pointless.

Eventually he noticed it wasn’t working for me. That or his tongue was tired. He came up to have sex with me.

“No, no, no. That wasn’t the deal,” I told him. “You didn’t get me off.”
He looked stunned. “You’re serious?”

“Pleasing my pussy isn’t a joke.” If you can’t please me then I’m sure as hell not going to waste my time getting your jollies on.

I got up and put on my panties and bra. “It’s been fun, but it’s not working for me.” I walked his stunned face to the door and said goodbye. Guess the vagina expert had finally met his match.

The Wandering Eye

I met one date at a trendy bar in town. He was better looking in person than his photos online, so my beaver was instantly pleased. We were getting along fine, until I noticed that he had a wandering eye. The guy was looking at every girl in the bar, except the one sitting in front of him.

I’m very confident in myself. I know I have an amazing body, so I have no problem going to a trendy bar with other hot women. Hell, I love to look at other hotties, too. Eye candy gets me excited. But when you’re on a date, especially a first date, try to keep your eyes on me.

He faced the door, and I was looking at the wall while we’re talking. He had perfect access to every girl walking in the bar, and there are lots of them that night. The guy would have easy access to my pussy if he could’ve focused on me, but the more we talked, the more I realized he was absolutely not paying attention to me. I could’ve shown him my tits, and he’d still be staring across the room.

You’re with one of the hottest girls in here, and I’m still not enough for you? I wonder. What are you, gay?

I quickly decide to end this. I’ve got a million other guys interested in fucking me; I don’t need to waste any more of my time with this blind idiot. I expect my dates to treat me like I would treat them; if you’re not into me, pretend like you have something else to do and move the fuck on.

I whipped out my phone and texted a guy I had been dating for a while. He worked around the corner at another bar. There was still potential to have a good bang tonight. We’re in an open relationship so didn’t want to cock block him by just showing up. He might have had other plans, or was in the middle of hitting on someone else. (God damn, I’m so considerate.) So, I texted him first. He responded saying that he wanted me to stop by, and that’s he’ll stay the night at my place.

As soon as I get the okay from my lover, I tell my date that I’m going to go meet a girlfriend. He, once again, wasn’t even looking at me.

He walked me to the valet. I got in my car and as I drove off, I saw him head back inside the bar. Screw him, I thought. At least my night wasn’t completely ruined; my sexy bartender sure as hell didn’t mind looking at me.

- Sienna Sinclaire® - The Single Girl®: Your Naughty Lifestyle Guide

Friday, July 20, 2012

How To Leave Gracefully After A One-Night Stand

We’ve all done it. We all thought it was a good idea at the time. In our hot, drunken stupor we thought the guy from the bar was ridiculously good looking. So of course, we decided to spread our legs for a one-night stand. In the morning with our beer goggles off and our hangovers coming in full throttle, we roll over to realize the charity case our vagina just endured. Not only do you not remember anything, but the guy laying next to you looks like a hobo man you picked up on the side of the street.

But how do you gracefully exit?

If you’re lucky enough to find your less-than-sexy man asleep, grab your shit and run. Make sure you don’t leave anything behind, because if you do, you sure aren’t going to see it again.

Before bolting for the door, quickly glance around the room for used condoms. You want to make sure your lady business was properly protected. God forbid, you end up with this sad schmuck’s STDs or worse, carrying his ugly babies. It’s alright to let your pussy go wild, but your head still needs to be responsible.

If your unfortunate fuck just happens to be awake, play it cool. Pretend like you remember everything perfectly and had a wonderful time. If it’s a workday, then tell him you’re running late for work. If it’s a weekend, mention how you have lunch with your grandma for her birthday. No one can get pissy with a I’m-hanging-with-my-granny excuse. You’ll look like a sweet person who’s interested in caring for the elderly.

If the one-night stand took place at your house and you want them to leave without seeming rude, mention how you have to get to work as you have a meeting you forgot. Help them gather their clothes to make sure they don’t have an excuse for coming back over. Be nice and walk them to the door. This will take a little longer than if you’re at their house. It’s harder to get someone to leave sometimes than it is to leave someone’s house. So if you’re out drinking then make sure to go to their house instead.

If your one-night stand is trying to have morning sex with you, and you’re not into it… fake sick. Tell him you have a massive headache and need some water, then get up and go to the fridge. Better yet, run to the bathroom and say, “I think I just started my period!” Nothing shrinks a boner faster than the mention of blood. If you are into having sex with him once more (apparently your beer goggles haven’t completely faded), let the guy know that you have somewhere to go before you start so you can leave. Then you won’t feel guilty for banging and bolting.

As you are getting ready to leave his house or if you’re trying to persuade him to get out of yours, it may come up that he wants to see you again. Obviously, he does. Let’s face it; your vagina was one-stand gold. If you don’t want to see him again, be short and polite. Make something up. Maybe you just got out of a relationship and you’re not really over it. No one wants to be a rebound fuck. Turn the tables on them. Start talking about your ex a lot. Mention how much you miss him and his wonderful penis. Tell your one-night stand that you’ve been thinking about getting back together with your generously hung ex.

If the person just won’t give up on wanting to see you again, casually mention that you need to go to a doctor’s appointment for an STD check. Let him know that he should probably get checked too, just in case. Say whatever you have to, but make yourself seem as undesirable and unattractive as possible. (If you’re as fucking sexy as me, it’ll be a challenge for sure.) Whatever you do, never leave a one-night stand and say, “I’ll call you.” Lie about everything else, but that. Best to be honest even if it’s a lie.

- Sienna Sinclaire® - The Single Girl®: Your Naughty Lifestyle Guide

Thursday, July 19, 2012

The Dominator

Every once and a while, I like to play with an older dick. A young fuck is always full of passion; but a wise older penis has more tricks and experience behind his balls. Ron was just the guy my vadge needed, or so I thought. He was extremely sexy with his salt-and-pepper hair. He had a confidence about him that I knew would be incredible in the bedroom. He constantly turned heads, which of course, made me want to suck on his.

We grabbed a drink at a bar he had suggested, but it wasn’t my kind of place. It was a fluster cluck of young guys, trashy girls, and ridiculously loud music. If I wanted to go back to my high school prom, I would have worn my fluffy ball gown and tiara. Fed up with screaming at the top of my lungs just to have a conversation, I suggested we head to another bar where we could actually talk.

After a bit of reluctance, I finally got him to agree to my bar by telling him my ex worked at the other place he suggested. Worked like a charm.

At the new place, we quickly ordered some food and drinks. We could actually hear each other now. We were having a good conversation, and I was thinking the date was going really well…Until he started talking about his dating style. He casually mentioned that he’s into DS dating.

“You’re into what now?” I said, even though I had heard him loud and clear.

“DS. You know, Dominant/Submissive.”

I nodded my head. I already know what it meant, but I had never heard someone confess this on a date, let alone a first date. I’m not exactly your average American girl when it comes to relationships, but this wasn’t something I was into as I’m the dominant one in relationships not the submissive.

“Basically, I’m the dominate one in the bedroom. Right now, I’m looking for a submissive.”

I almost choked on my Mandarin and Sprite. Was he serious? Clearly, he didn’t know me at all. “I’m not exactly the submissive type,” I laughed. The only area I want you to dominate me is my undercarriage.

“Well, I think you’re very smart and obviously beautiful. I’m just not sure how compatible we’ll be in the bedroom if you’re as dominant as you claim.” He took a sip from his drink. “I almost didn’t go out with you when I read your online profile. You’re very clear in your profile what you want and what you don’t want in someone.”

Guess my photos were sexy enough for him to overlook my insubordinate nature, I thought.

“I also didn’t really like how you responded to my email. I believe you said, ‘Yes, let’s meet up! Do you want to pick the place or would you like me to make a suggestion? That was almost a deal breaker.’”

“Why is that exactly?” I asked. This guy clearly is related to Hitler.

“As the dominant, I like to choose where we go.”

I rolled my eyes. “Well, it’s a good thing I didn’t text you this morning like I had planned because I was going to suggest we head to another bar. I knew the bar we were just at didn’t have a valet and was really loud. But I didn’t because I ended up taking a taxi.”

He fiddled with the straw wrapper in front of him. Clearly, he wasn’t pleased. “If you had sent that to me, I definitely would have canceled our date.”

“So this isn’t just a bedroom thing?” I asked after a few moments.

“On and off the mattress,” he grinned.

My lady wood instantly shrank. It’s one thing to be submissive for a good fuck, another for daily life. I knew this date wasn’t going to end with me on my knees, but I was still curious. It’s not every day you meet a guy willing to turn down a quality fuck.

We both ordered another drink. When the waiter handed my glass to me, I immediately noticed that the bartender had accidently put tonic in it instead of sprite.

“Hey sorry, but this has tonic in it. I wanted a Mandarin and Sprite,” I said.

The bartender corrected his mistake, as he damn well should have.

When I looked up to Ron, he was clearly not happy with me. “If they gave me the wrong drink I would just drink it.”

My eyes grew big. What the fuck was this guy’s problem? Of course he wouldn’t sit there and slurp something he didn’t like. He’s way too dominant. That’s like a guy saying, “I ordered this hot escort online, but when she showed up at my door she looked nothing like her picture. She was flabby and looked like a foot, but I fucked her anyway.”

The rest of the date, Ron talked about how incompatible we were sexually. I thought this was awful presumptuous of him, since I had never suggested fucking him. He was like paradox though. With his words, he told me how we weren’t going to work together… but his eyes never left my chest. It was clear, this dominant wanted to get up in my private domain.

Instead of blowing him off, I decided to see just how dominant he really was. “So do you mind if a girl suggests sex toys or different positions?”

“No, not exactly.”

“Do you like it when the girl’s on top?” I asked.

He shook his head. “I’d probably go limp if she was on top. That’s not being submissive at all.”

Wrong answer, buddy. A girl wants to be able to tell you what she does and doesn’t like. Besides, I love being on top. I also love doggy style, but I sure as hell am not going to cower before your dick like a scared puppy.

“I prefer my women on all fours.” He said with a big grin.

Of course you do. I have no problem letting a guy be dominant in the bedroom and I have no problem getting on my knees to service a guy. But my sex life does not revolve around me being submissive every time we have sex and me being on “bottom.”

I’m all about switching things up every time I have sex but this guy seemed all about himself and his own pleasure not the girl.

“Maybe you should just go online and look for a nice, bendy Asian girl who would have no problem bending over for you.”

“Asian women don’t really attract me.”

I almost laughed. This guy isn’t really in a position to be that picky. You take whatever pussy will submit for you. “So really, what would you do if a girl suggests the restaurant?”

“No, it wouldn’t work. I don’t want the girl to suggest anything to me.”

I nodded. Basically he wants a sexy robot who’ll spread her legs and not say a damn word. Good luck finding that kind of girl, man. I’m pretty sure they’re plastic replicas you can buy on Ebay for that kind of shit.

By that time my drink was done, so was I. So I suggested we get a taxi to go home, which probably pissed him off.

Once we got outside he asked, “So what’s going on tonight?”

This guy was unbelievable. He knew I didn’t have a submissive bone in my body, yet he was still trying to poke me with his (Bone that is). Fat chance I was going home with this freak. God only knows what he would do to me.

“I’m going home, alone. I don’t think it’ll work for us; I’m way too dominant for you.” I went home alone that night and was incredibly thankful I hadn’t gone home with Ron. There are some things even MY vagina won’t stand for.

- Sienna Sinclaire® - The Single Girl®: Your Naughty Lifestyle Guide

Wednesday, June 20, 2012

How to Be A “Grown-Up” in an Open Relationship

"O the things I’d love to Scream at my past lover!"

There are many people out there in open relationships, but many don’t know how to be an adult in one. My number one rule for being in an open relationship is honesty then to respect the person you’re fucking, always. Even if you’re fucking two or three people, you respect each one and treat them how you want to be treated. I truly believe that you treat others how you want to be treated. So when I see someone treating me like shit then they must want me to treat them like shit too.

And remember that when you’re in an open relationship that the person(s) you’re dating are people with feelings just like you, so fucking respect them and be honest.

Here’s what not to do in an open relationship and how to quickly lose the person you’re dating:

- Be Open - In the very beginning be open and honest about the kind of open relationship you want. Meaning, will you be serious with only one person where you swing with each other or only see other people when you’re out of town, etc.? Or do you want an open relationship where you can see as many people as you want and you don’t talk about it to each other? There are many other ways to go about an open relationship, this is why you need to talk about it in the beginning and be open and honest about what you both want so as not to hurt the other person down the road. (That is if you're a person who has a heart). If you just want to be a "player" then don't say you want to be in an open relationship or agree to be in one. Big difference in the two.

- Don’t Lie – The great thing about being in an open relationship is that you have NO reason to lie to the other person. There’s no need to lie about where you were the other night because you both know you’re seeing other people. You don’t have to come right out and say you were out with another girl, just say you were out and leave it at that. But don’t say you were out with guy friends and make up a big story then get caught in your lie down the road. That only shows that you have something to hide when you never did to begin with.

- Little Lies – If you can’t be up front with someone from day one, with something as little as your age and height, then what else are you going to lie about to the person you’re dating? And when someone does catch you in a little lie, tell the truth. Don’t lie again about your age, because then you’ve made the lie bigger and it just shows that if you’re capable about lying about that (3 times), then what else are you lying about that’s big?

- Respect The Person You’re Fucking – I said this before and I can’t stress this enough but you have to respect the person(s) you’re fucking in an open relationship. Meaning, don’t take naked photos of them and betray their trust, along with acting like an immature adult, by texting them to your guy friends. That is so immature!

- Respect The Person You’re Dating – The one thing about open relationships is that they can take a little more work depending on how many lovers you’re dating. Personally, I think it’s always best to just date two people as that’s all I can handle. So when you make a date with one of your lovers, that date should be just for the two of you and about them. This is their time with you. I make sure that when I’m going out on a date I put aside work, my phone, any stress from the day and anyone I’m dating on the side. DON’T use your date with one lover to text your other lover and carry on a conversation with this other person while on a date. If you can’t stand not to talk to her then go be with her not me.

- Don't Bring Up Other Lovers – When you’re out on a date sometimes it’s fine to talk about past (not current) relationships especially if it’s something funny. But don’t be on a date with someone you’ve been dating for a while and mention a girl, that you’ve been having kinky sex with, and ask your date to give you some dating advice on them. Are you seriously kidding me? I'm not your buddy, I'm your lover and the person you'll be fucking later that night.

- Lying To Your Other Lovers – Maybe you’re being honest with one girl you’re dating, about being in an open relationship because it was her idea. But don’t lie to your other lovers about only seeing them. Don’t use your time on a date to befriend some random guy at a bar to take photos of the two of you, so that you can text your other lover showing her that you’re out with "friends." It’s extremely rude to the person you’re on a date with because you’re supposed to be with her not texting your other lover photos and having a conversation with them. Plus you’re lying to her and you’re being rude and disrespectful to your date.

- Caught in Your Lies – When you’ve been caught in your lies don’t try to cover them up by lying more, especially when the person is telling you to come clean about your lies. That’s your time to be honest especially if the person likes you and is giving you another chance. Don’t just sit there and lie to their face again and again. When someone catches you in enough lies, trust me the truth will come out even if that means they have to do their own research. Because when they finally do find out the truth, after you’ve lied to them again (but had no reason too), there’s no trusting you ever again. It’s over after that.

- Be Honest – Being in an open relationship allows you to be honest. You shouldn’t have to worry about hiding other people you’re seeing because you’ve already established that you’re seeing other people. So why lie? Don’t decide to come clean all of a sudden when someone finally confronts you by telling them you’ve been lying to them this entire relationship. And that you owe them at least that by coming clean about all your lies. What you owe them is a fucking apology and to show them some fucking respect!

Open relationships aren’t for everyone, but if you can be an adult in one by being honest and respecting the person, along with treating them how you want to be treated then they can work and last a very long time. Who knows maybe down the road both of you realize that you want a committed relationship and it turns into something more. Just don’t be an asshole and immature when it comes to being in an open relationship.

- Sienna Sinclaire® - The Single Girl®: Your Naughty Lifestyle Guide

Wednesday, June 13, 2012

How to Become an Ethical Slut: Instead of Just a Slut

If you’re like me, you have an insatiable vagina. You want lots of sex with several different partners, but you don’t want to be considered a slut. Well, I’ve got the answer to you sexual conundrum.

The key is how you present yourself to others. Instead of telling people that you’ve got an over-eager beaver in your pants, explain to them that you’re an ethical slut. Remarket yourself as one who’s into open relationships instead of someone who’s into everyone’s pants. Present yourself as a brave pioneer of this alternative lifestyle.

I decided a long time ago that monogamous relationships weren’t for me. I kept cheating on my lovers, and I was tired of getting caught and dealing with someone’s hurt feelings. So I decided I would try out open relationships and loved it. My relationships with men lasted much longer and I wasn’t lying anymore. Most importantly, I could sleep with whomever I wanted.

However, being in an open relationship doesn’t mean you’re sleeping with every dick you find. Licking and fucking my pussy is a privilege, so I’m a bit picky. I don’t just hand out unlimited access cards to my vadge, unless I like the guy… or girl.

I’ve learned that too many dicks in the bedroom is more trouble than it’s worth. My pussy can only handle so much; I can’t be fucked every waking second of the day. My time is valuable, and my girls need a rest every once in a while and so does my ass. I don’t want someone camping out in my orifices. A few hours is all it takes.

If you only tell your lover that you’re dating around and not looking for anything serious, you look like a player or slut. Saying you’re into open relationships and want only a few connections with select people shows your lovers that you’re someone who knows what she wants. It shows you’re responsible with your lady business, and you’re honest.

Ethical sluts, make sure to practice what you preach. Don’t get too attached to someone or jealous of his sexual conquests. You laid out the fucking rules in the beginning, so don’t backtrack into a whiney, clingy lover. Enjoy the limitless sex you can have with anyone you want. Just be sure you’re honest, open, and full of integrity.

Stop being a slut and become an ethical one!

- Sienna Sinclaire® - The Single Girl®: Your Naughty Lifestyle Guide

Friday, April 27, 2012

Creating Your Own Rules For Dating

Variety isn’t just the spice of life it’s the very life blood of my sex life. I’ve never been a “one penis” girl. I tried it a few times, but it didn’t really work. There was something missing in my sweet vagina hole and in my heart; something only one dick would never be able to fill. At 24, I finally figured out why. I had been trying to adhere to society’s “dating rules.” I guess I need more balls to play with.

From then on, I wanted to make my own “dating rules.” I wanted to forget what society, family, friends and other people had to say. There are no universal laws for dating. Not everyone is supposed to get married and produce children (I would never put my lady business through that!). My advice? Come up with your own rules. March to the beat of your incredibly horny lady drum. That’s what I did. My pussy thanks me every day. Here are a few of the rules I follow for myself:

Open relationships – I need to play with other bats. It takes a lot of action to keep me satisfied. One dick will never suffice as there are so many different penises in all shapes and sizes out there. And they’re a swell time for all the holes in my body (except for my nose and ears, gross).

Plus you can’t find everything you like in one guy. One guy may be a wonderful lover, but carries on a conversation like a brick wall. Save him for a late-night booty call. You may have a sexy man as you’re official arm candy. Take him out to make all the other girls drool. Another guy may be incredibly sweet, but isn’t that great in bed. You can teach him but in the meantime keep him around because we all love being spoiled with gifts and flowers.

Bottom line, guys are like Campbell’s soup. They may be put together the same way, but they taste incredibly different. Why settle with just one? Eating tomato soup for the rest of your life sounds terrible.

No kids, no marriage – Enough said. Not for me. I mean, do you know how many kegels I’d have to do to enjoy sex again?

Living alone – I’ve lived alone all my life. Even when I grew up with my parents, I took care of myself. It’s sexual freedom in the best possible way. I can have that variety I need without ever being an inconvenience to anyone. Three a.m. sex craving? Just call one of my guys. No one’s there in the house to judge me, or care that some loud noises are coming from my bedroom (or the bathroom, or kitchen, or…). It’s incredibly hard to have more than one penis when another one is living with you. Just because I like a guy doesn’t mean I want to share a load of laundry or see his tacky 60-inch flat screen TV over my fireplace. I prefer having a man come (in more ways than one) over for a few hours rather than staying for a lifetime.

The sooner, the better - I prefer to sleep with guys sooner than later. Guys love that about me. So many girls want to “get to know” the guy better before sleeping with them. What a waste of some quality humping time. The only knowing I want to do is in the Biblical sense. Nothing is worse than getting to know someone for a while only to realize that he’s about as talented with his dick as a twelve-year-old. I want to know all that up front. I don’t want to waste my time getting to know someone if they suck or don’t suck down there. I mean, a girl’s got needs. Every guy needs to be able to go down on me, and well. If I suck your cock you better return the favor on me! Period.

Sex – Leave work and your problems at the door. I’ve got no time for your lazy ass in my bed. You’ve got to earn the right to be there. My house of love is for pleasure only. Nothing is worse than when a guy gets too comfortable when he fucks me. I want someone who’s going to constantly spice things up. Try something new and exciting, cause you can bet your ass that’s what I’m going to do. When you make a date with me, it’s our time together. If you’re too tired, or if it’s too hard to get hard… reschedule. I’ve got more dicks who can get the job done. A quick fuck isn’t in my vagina’s vocabulary. I make sure I give them my all and I expect the same in return, especially when it comes to sex.

- Sienna Sinclaire® - The Single Girl®: Your Naughty Lifestyle Guide

Monday, March 26, 2012

The Toilet Guy

I was out on the town enjoying a fun night with my girlfriends. We were at the bar ordering drinks, one Mandrian Sprite after another. The club was as busy as my vagina on any given weekend. The DJ was playing some great hits, an eclectic spin on modern day and top 80s and 90s jams. Normally I don’t need an excuse for a good ass shaking, but this disc jockey made it almost impossible to keep my buns from jiggling (in a hot way).

After a bit of dancing, I decided to get a better look at the man who had such excellent tunage selection. If this guy held the secret to get my ass shaking, I wondered if his dick was the key for my vagina. I went over to request some music, and the young guy definitely took notice of me. We flirted for a little bit and I cracked him my best cleavage smile.

At the end of the night he decided to bust a move. As the bar was clearing out, he asked me to come with him. I was immediately game for following him, or cuming…whichever game first. He took my hand and led me away. At first, I was intrigued. Where was this young hottie taking me?

Soon I noticed he was taking me to the restrooms. He can’t be serious, I thought. I’m a classy girl and I don’t mind having sex near a toilet if the dick is right. Location hardly matters to me. But I didn’t even know this guy! Bathroom sex was sacred ground. Only the guys I’m most comfortable with get to pin me against a hygiene-questionable wall and fuck me where people go to take a shit.

I’ve been around enough penises to know that when a guy takes a girl to the toilet, it’s for his own pleasure. Not mine. I’m no Good Samaritan; I’m not going to suck a stranger’s cock just to make his night. If I’m going to let a guy bang me bent over the pot, you better believe I want to get off, too. Besides, I only suck on dicks if they have a return rate later in the evening.

I let him lead me into the bathroom stall. My curiosity was intrigued. I wanted to see what this guy’s moves were. He quickly closed the bathroom stall and started making out with me. Two seconds later, he unzipped his pants and whipped his dick out.

“Suck on it?” he asked. His meat popsicle was already hard.

I laughed in his face. “Thanks for the offer. Really… I’m touched.” I usually appreciate a sexual eagerness in a man, but not when it’s completely one-sided. My pussy has needs to, ya know.

Turning to leave, the bathroom door swung open. It was one of my friends. She stared at me, and quickly looked at the wide-eyed DJ with his dick hanging out of his pants. We burst into laughter as we left, and I rehashed the story in the car.

Later, I realized that I had given him my number earlier in the eveing when I thought he might take me out on a proper date. Didn’t realize our first date would be in a toilet stall. He kept texting me that night, practically begging me to come over. If a girl won’t suck your cock when you offer it up on a silver platter, she’s not going to invite you over. Too bad, this young DJ didn’t know how to please a beaver as well as he knew his music.

- Sienna Sinclaire® - The Single Girl®: Your Naughty Lifestyle Guide

Thursday, March 22, 2012

Taking It To The Next Level...

When most people decide to become more serious and take their relationship to the next level, they usually talk about being exclusive and setting a bunch of rules for their new budding romance. (Gag me.)

My idea of taking things to the next level doesn’t exactly involve picking out china patterns. When I decide to get more serious with someone, I make him my “Number One.” In other words, his dick is getting the most action from my lady parts.
So Brian decided that he wanted to take our so-called relationship to the next level (not exactly a shocker).

Due to my line of work, I get tested monthly. I’m a disease freak, and I don’t exactly want crabs covering my beautiful pussy. In order to take things to the next step, I told Brian that he had to get tested and show me his results. It’s kind of like a foreigner trying to get citizenship in America – his dick had to get a green card in order to set up camp in my vadge. But I already know he’s not “the one” for my pussy but still want to see his results. I’m still testing out others. Hey, I’m a popular girl!

- Sienna Sinclaire® - The Single Girl®: Your Naughty Lifestyle Guide

Monday, March 12, 2012

Why NOT To Make Love Like A Porn Star

Many men want to learn how to have sex like a porn star but that only leads to disaster. They sit themselves on a comfy chair and watch some good ol’ fashioned pornography to “research” all their sex positions. I like my nudies as much as the next pussy, but let’s be real. Porn is about as realistic as Pamela Anderson’s rack. It mostly focuses on men and pleasing the unruly one-eyed snake in their britches. It rarely has little to do with a woman’s sexual satisfaction.

For example, I don’t want to be chocked with a guy’s cock and I don’t want cum sprayed in my face, eyes, or (God forbid) my hair. And don’t even think about slapping your dick against my face! I don’t let guys slap me across my face period so why do guys think it’s okay to slap a girl across the face with their cock?

Somehow through watching porn men got the message that it’s acceptable to treat women like animals. They bang us, flip us, pound us, and bounce us with no concern as to how we feel. Now don’t get me wrong, I like a mind-numbing, meaningless sex session. I don’t need to know your first and last name or where you’re from before I’ll fuck you. But when I do decide to bang you, you can bet your nutsack that I want to get off. It’s not all about you and your joystick; my vagina has needs, too.

Even though porn may be your best friend, men, don’t let it be your sex guide. I don’t want a fuckin’ circus in my bedroom. I’m not a contortionist; so don’t flip my body into positions that even Gumbi couldn’t manage. I know some pornos show women twisted in (God only knows) how many ways, but that’s for all the douches that get their jollies on a woman in pain. That isn’t real life.

I mean, what’s wrong with staying in the same position for a few minutes? I actually like enjoying my lover’s cock; I can’t do that when we’re constantly playing a game of hot potato with your balls.

I never had a guy flip me around so much until I dated this one guy. The first time we had sex, he flipped me around so many times and in so many different positions that my body was sore. My mind was spinning. And my girls were frustrated. My pussy couldn’t enjoy his dick because he was too busy getting in his aerobic workout for the day. I’m sorry but last time I checked, my vadge wasn’t your elliptical.

Our second fuck session, he started moving me all over the place again. It’s like this guy thought I was his dick, he could turn and twist me as much as he wanted. It didn’t take me long to realize this guy had been to Pornography 101. That coupled with his intense case of ADD, and his sexual expectations were as porn-tastic.

I had to slow him and his Johnny Rocket down. He was a great lover, but it took him a while to calm his amped-up dick. Eventually, I had to start taking control to prevent him from fucking me like a jackhammer. I taught him some valuable lessons while we dated. Every woman he fucks seriously owes me.

Take a lesson, men. I know you’ve all been porn-again, but don’t let the fuck sessions on the screen be your guide to sex in the sheets. Let your lady friend actually enjoy your dick. We are likely to fuck again if you just calm the hell down. Experiment with different positions, but be realistic. Remember, we’re only human. Our bodies can’t bend like we’re made of condoms. Take your time; be gentle, and leave the “professionals” to the screens.

- Sienna Sinclaire® - The Single Girl®: Your Naughty Lifestyle Guide

The Anal Lover

You should know by now that I’m not like most girls. Many times women want to feel a special connection with a guy before she’ll allow him to enter her backdoor. She wants to have dated him for a while and have all those warm fuzzy feelings before she’ll open up her keister. My vagina’s not made of stone, but I don’t need those mushy feelings. If I’m in the mood for a good butt fuck, I don’t have to know the guy for very long before I’ll bend over. Sometimes I need to give my vagina a break for the night.

My third date with Seth was pretty standard. We started off our night with dinner before heading to a popular dance club. I drained several drinks to loosen me up (not that my vadge and I really needed it). Little did I know, my ass was about to experience a whole new anal world.

When we got back to my place, we almost immediately started bumping uglies. This was our second time having sex, since I didn’t give it up so quickly on our first date (Girl Scout Badge for me!). Usually if I like someone, I like to make him wait. If I fuck you on the first date, it’s not because I care about you. It’s because I’m horny and you’ve got the penis I need. I don’t actually care if you ever call me again.

Seth started off fucking me vaginally, but it wasn’t long before his one-eyed willie was trying for another entrance. My ass is no Virgin Mary; she has already taken in her fair share of huge cocks. Seth had a big dick, but it wasn’t as wide as some I’d taken up the tailpipe. I knew my ass could handle him.

His cocked slipped perfectly in between my tight cheeks. Anal always makes me come as fast as a thirteen-year-old boy. I quickly came all over his cock, and he followed soon after. God, it was amazing.

“Perfect,” I thought. “It was such a nice night out, and this was a great ass fuck! Now I’m ready for bed.”

After we both get cleaned up, I came back to the bed. His cock rose to greet me. I couldn’t believe he was already hard again. I would expect that from someone in his twenties, but Seth is in late thirties! It was a nice change of pace. Normally my dates’ penises can’t keep up with my horny beaver.

He was hard as a rock, so I decided to reward him for his sexual stamina. I began using another hole he hadn’t yet experienced. I worked his dick in my mouth, blowing him well. I knew there was no way I’d be able to finish him off, since he just came in my ass. But before I knew it he was coming again! Normally I don’t let guys finish in my mouth. Does anyone really like the taste of cum? It isn’t exactly the whip cream on top of a meat popsicle.

Seth, however, was in a league all his own. He had the best sperm I’ve ever tasted. It was clean, clear, and clump-free. I let him fill my mouth and swallowed it with ease.

After blowing him, I passed out. Surely, he was exhausted too. I wasn’t asleep more than twenty minutes before I felt him rubbing against my body, slowly trying to wake me up. This guy was like fucking a twenty-year-old boy. He gently caressed my skin until I started to stir. He immediately noticed that I was waking up so he began rubbing my breasts, letting me know he wanted sex again.

“Holy shit,” I thought. “What the hell is this guy on? Can’t he let me just sleep until the morning?” I am, after all, awesome at morning sex. I always have extreme lady wood.

Instead, I decided I was up for another round. I mean, how many times did I have the chance to fuck three times in the span of an hour and half? This time he went straight for my ass. Apparently his dick didn’t need a map or an invitation. It felt just as amazing as the first round. I started to believe his dick was made of gold.

When we both finished, I hoped it was for good or at least till the morning. I was going to get spoiled on all these orgasms in one night. Thankfully, his dick calmed down after round three. He had to get up early for work so there was no time for morning sex. My ass was happy to see him leave; I needed to recoup before my buns met his powerful bratwurst again.

- Sienna Sinclaire® - The Single Girl®: Your Naughty Lifestyle Guide

Wednesday, March 7, 2012

Mr. Personality

My vagina is like a metal detector. Instead of finding loose change, it’s constantly turning up annoying habits of all the ball-sacs trolls I date. Sometimes they’re hard to find, like the penis of my first sex partner, but most of the time my dates’ irritating habits are staring me right in the face (like the cock of every guy who begs me to blow him).

While I appreciate the effort, if a man has the personality of a brick wall… I’d rather you just shut up and nut up. Otherwise, I’ve got a dildo back home that can get the job done. Unfortunately, those with the worst qualities almost always think they’re God’s gift to vaginas.

I met this guy out at a bar one night. He seemed harmless on the outside, definitely fuckable but nothing my lady parts and I couldn’t resist. But the second I discovered my date was on a first name basis with our bartender and everyone else at the bar that immediately threw up a red flag for me. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like I hate friendly people I just don’t like overly friendly ones. I could barely remember his first name and I didn’t care about learning his last name. The more he talked, however, the more I realized I needed an alcohol-IV pumping in my arm, before I could handle this guy and all his charisma.

It’s a mistake to think that charmers can easily sway my vagina and me. Sure, I may laugh at your retarded jokes. I’ll smile and nod when you pretend like you’re the greatest thing since a six-inch vibrator. That’s only because I want to fuck you. You’re not actually funny. I just want to get in your pants and introduce you to my meat cleaver. One-eyed willies have a much better shot to impress me than the giant hole in a guy’s face that he can’t ever seem to fuckin’ close.

The date proceeded to get more annoying with Mr. Personality when he started using my name in almost every sentence.

“Sienna, what do you do today?”

“How’s your drink, Sienna?”

“Don’t you love this bar, Sienna?”

Listen, I’m not about to blow you because you remembered my name. I can barely remember yours, Einstein. My hair may be blonde, but I know my own goddamn name. You’re not earning yourself any points by reminding me that you know who I am. The only time I want to hear you say my name is in the bedroom. (Cause let’s face it, you totally will.)

For some reason (I blame my vagina) because I let him take me out to West Hollywood a few days later. Every pore on this guy’s body was dripping with charm. He seriously needed to put a cork in it.

When we got to the restaurant, the hostess greeted us. My date smiled and told her the name of our reservation. By this point, I wasn’t really paying attention to their conversation. I knew I was going to have to listen to him for the rest of the night, might as well enjoy the few seconds of reprieve.

All of a sudden, I heard something that didn’t sound quite right. My date and the hostess laughed. She looked super uncomfortable. I thought maybe I had heard wrong. After all, I wasn’t really paying attention maybe I had missed something. Good lord, I hope I missed something. Surely he can’t be that lame…

“What did you just say?” I asked.

“I told her my name for the reservation, but then I said how funny would that be if I said we were here for a spa appointment?” he said, cackling like he had just come up with the best joke ever.

What the fuck? I thought. Here I thought I had missed something, but I hadn’t. That was his joke and he was serious as birth control.

I flashed him by famous “are you fucking kidding me” look. I didn’t laugh or smile. I just turned the poor hostess and said, “Didn’t there use to be a nightclub next door? What happened to it?”

I changed the subject as quickly as I could, but I couldn’t avoid the damage his lame-ass personality had already caused. How embarrassing! For the rest of the night he tried to entertain me with his wise cracks, but I wasn’t amused. I wanted to skip to the part of the night that was actually pleasurable, getting fucked by his huge cock.

After that date, I only invited him over to my house to bang. Cut the small talk. I had to get him to close one hole, so he could open another.

- Sienna Sinclaire® - The Single Girl®: Your Naughty Lifestyle Guide

Sunday, February 26, 2012

The Singer

One night my girlfriend and I decided to treat ourselves to a night out on the town. We hired a personal chauffeur and booked dinner at the Chateau Marmont with bottle service at Voyeur. We were all set to pick up my latest condom flavor of the month, Matt, who dressed and sang just like Frank Sinatra but looked much hotter. Before we picked him up, I felt a strong obligation to forewarn my driver and my friend about him. His vocal chords (like his dick) had a mind of their own, and I needed to tell them that my date would more than likely be bursting into song at some point in the night. He’s an amazing singer, don’t get me wrong, but there’s a time and a place for singing and that’s the stage. I don’t care if you’re a professional singer. I’m a “professional” too but you don’t see me taking my clothes off whenever I go out (that part doesn’t come till later).

We picked the guys up and headed to dinner. Two milliseconds later, Matt broke into song. Singing is one of the most annoying things you can possibly do (when not on stage) – especially when you’re in a car with little space because your voice projects louder. My ears were literally bleeding.

My friend nudged me, as soon as he started singing, trying not to burst out laughing. My driver kept staring at me in the rear-view mirror and I know he was dying to make a smart-ass comment. I did everything I could to keep it together so as not to start laughing. You could cut the awkwardness with a tampon. I mean, who the hell did this guy think he was? It was almost as if Matt expected my vagina to instantly go weak in the clitoris by his voice. Up to that point, I had definitely been turned on by him singing on stage but not in the car.

Finally, his ballad ended and we made it to the restaurant. I silently prayed that he wouldn’t break out into song again while at the Chateau Marmont. After an uncomfortable dinner of trying to keep him talking instead of singing we got back in the car and head to the nightclub. The club didn’t open until eleven, which meant we were gonna have to do some serious drinking in order to get buzzed before last call at two.

We got to the club a little bit before eleven, so my driver suggested driving around the block to kill a few minutes. Matt, of course, had other ideas.

“Why don’t I sing a song?” he offered, as though we were all dying to hear him sing for the millionth time. Before I could intervene he broke out into another song, and we all sat there awkwardly. I stared at the floor, cursing my vadge for being so attracted to this douche bag. I wanted to chop his balls off and stuff them in his mouth. How could he not see that we were obviously NOT interested in listening to him? I thought.

“Encore!” my driver said in his British accent after Matt finished. (There’s a gay joke in that last sentence somewhere.) His voice was obviously dripping with sarcasm.

Before Matt could open his mouth and blurt out another song, I immediately leapt over the armrest. “Let’s turn on the radio!” I yelled, reaching for the dial. The only thing I wanted Matt to open up was my vagina, and I wasn’t even sure about that anymore.

Pretty soon, we got into the club. I half expected Matt to harmonize with the DJ’s music. Last call couldn’t come soon enough.

- Sienna Sinclaire® - The Single Girl®: Your Naughty Lifestyle Guide

Thursday, February 23, 2012

What Could Go Wrong?

If you don’t already know by now, I’m a wanted lady. My vagina keeps the men coming (in more ways than one). So I shouldn’t have been surprised when two men wanted to take me out…on the same night.

Ty and I had already scheduled our first date around 8:30 pm, which I was excited for. Not long after that Brian asked if I could meet him at 7 pm for drinks for about an hour. He said he had a bowling game later that night. (God, do I love a man who can handle balls.)

Why not knock out two cocks in one night? I thought. My schedule is always insane, and I was already going to be looking hot. One drink with Brian, leave by eight, and no one would ever know. Easy enough! What could possibly go wrong?

I met Brian for our first date at the bar of one of my favorite restaurants in Santa Monica. I was all dressed up, and he was definitely looking like he’s about to go knock down some wood at the bowling alley. He must’ve thought he was hot shit, since I got all dolled up for him. Little did he know, I had big plans hidden up my short skirt that night.

The date was going really well. Brian was full of charm and entertainment that night. (I would learn later that apparently he only puts out his personality for the first dates. Then he leaves it up to his dates to do the rest of the entertaining after that. I didn’t really care, just as long as his dick always brought its A game. This was, after all, coming from a guy whose online profile said, “If I’m not laughing, it’s your fault.”)

Eight o’clock rolled around, and I knew I needed to start wrapping this up so I could get to Ty.

“Don’t you have a bowling game to get to?” I asked.

Brian looked at his watch. “But we’re having such a good time. How do you feel about grabbing some dinner with me?”

“You’re not gonna go to your game?”

He winked. “I canceled it. I want to spend more time with you.”

Fuck! I thought. Normally, my lady parts and I would’ve been flattered. But Brian was ruining my fantasy of double dating. His giant penis was actually (in a way) cock-blocking me.

I decided to stay with Brian that night. I liked this guy, and we were having a really good time. What if Ty had a tiny weiner and was terrible at conversation? Not a risk I was willing to make.

I excused myself to the girls’ room; I had to tell Ty that I wasn’t going to make our date. Goddamn the one moral bone in my body: I’m a terrible liar. I texted him that a last minute photo shoot had come up for tomorrow, and I needed to prepare for it. Ty totally bought it and agreed to meet another night. God I’m good!

When I sat back down with Brian, he confessed that his bowling game was just a story he always had ready… an exit strategy just incase the date went sour. It was easier than having to make up some excuse as to why he needed to suddenly leave, he said.
That’s pure genius, I thought. I sure as hell needed to get me one of those exit plans but then again if I don’t like someone I just leave. Seems to work every time.

In the spirit of confessing, I told him about my other date with Ty. He laughed. “Next time, I want to be date number two,” he said. For once he made a funny, but that was the only time.

- Sienna Sinclaire® - The Single Girl®: Your Naughty Lifestyle Guide

Tuesday, February 21, 2012

Is There a Condom Shortage?

February is National Condom Month. You know what that means. If you’re single then safety should be your first priority, followed closely by getting off.

I’m not an idiot. I know men are thinking about my pussy more often than they’re paying attention to what I’m actually saying on a date. That’s fine. I want to get off just as much as they do. But even with all those thoughts about sex, most men still never manage to bring a rubber to a potential fuck session. Which makes me wonder if there’s a condom shortage?

Men can be cheap asses but come on condoms don’t cost that much and they even sell them individually. But a lot of men would rather not splurge on a piece of latex in the high (but stupid) hope that a woman won’t mind that his cock is foot loose and fancy free. Luckily, I always have my own personal stash of condoms in all sizes. So if a guy doesn't bring one, then I’ll donate one. But my bedroom is not a Planned Parenthood even though I’m sure I have more condoms on hand than they do. Men need to strap on a pair of balls and start carrying around some trusty Trojans.

One of my bedroom pet peeves is when a guy asks me if he can just stick the tip of his cock inside of me without a condom on. Get some sex education, for Christ’s sake. STD’s don’t care if your penis goes in all the way or not. When I tell them no and to put on a condom my favorite line that I hear a lot from men is, “But you look clean.” I usually laugh at them then jokingly list about five STD’s I have while keeping a straight face. Just because fun zones aren’t covered in blisters, doesn’t mean protection should become optional.

I know men complain a lot about not liking how condoms feel. But cry me a fuckin’ river and go jump in it. I don’t exactly like a dry trash bag rubbing up inside me either. But who wants eighteen years of hell or a short life with AIDS. So think with the right head for once. Don’t be the idiot who chooses to not use protection. Condoms are the least you can do. So do me (and yourself) a favor and go stock up on them because I'm about to run out.

- Flavored condoms for blow jobs

- Thin condoms for more sensation

- Mint condoms for a tingly feeling

- Sienna Sinclaire® - The Single Girl®: Your Naughty Lifestyle Guide

Sunday, February 19, 2012

The Back Door

Brian and I have been in an open relationship for about a month. We have great chemistry, and we don’t have to mess with the whole commitment thing. He’s a charmer on the streets, but a freak in the sheets. The ideal man for me, well almost.

One night, his giant cock started knocking on my back door. I’m no stranger to a good butt fuck, but I was a little nervous since Brian’s dick was so monstrous. I literally couldn’t fit the tip of his penis in my mouth, so how in the world was anal sex going to feel? I was afraid the girth of his dick would stretch me out. I wasn’t sure yet if I was ready to wear Depends the rest of my life.

Always up for a challenge, I decided to open the back door. Slowly, I started working my ass up and down on his giant cock. I let him in a little at a time, until I finally decided to let him in all the way. It was (surprisingly) the best and easiest anal sex I’ve ever had. His cock and my ass fit together like a weiner in a corndog.

So the next night I went out with a different guy to a popular bar in Santa Monica. We sat down and ordered drinks. All of a sudden, I see Brian waving at me like a giant idiot across the bar. Can’t he see I’m with someone? I thought. It must’ve been embarrassing for him, since his friends were with him and they all know who I was. Apparently, he was like a dog taking a piss on a tree... he wanted to mark his territory. Well, I’ll be damned to let that happen. My vagina (and my ass) only have loyalties to me.

I tried to ignore him, but it was a little hard with Brian staring at me from across the room (not that I could blame him, my tits looked amazing in my tight, black dress).

My date definitely noticed Brian, but we didn’t talk about it. I didn’t exactly tell him that the goober waving at me across the bar gave me the best anal of my life last night and that’s the reason why I’ve been walking funny all night.

When Brian finally left, he texted me and said, “You looked beautiful tonight.” A good sign, I thought. He apparently wasn’t too bothered that he’d seen me out with another guy. Normally the man is the one in the open-relationship to take advantage of the “open” end of the deal, but not me. I was always going out, fishing for other cocks in the sea.

I decided not to take my date home that night. Not that I didn’t want to, I just needed to fully recover from the damage Brian’s meat popsicle had done to me.

The next morning, I woke to a text from Brian. “So did you tell your date about me?”

Shit, I thought. So much for dodging the jealousy bullet. “No, Brian. I didn’t,” I responded.

Brian: “He kept looking at me.”

Me: “That’s probably because you were staring at us the whole night and waving like a moron.”

Brian: “Not really.”

Me: “Besides my date had better things to look at.”

Brian: “Did you tell him that I was in your ass last night? Did you let him butt fuck you?”

Since when does Brian get a say in what I do with my ass? I had a feeling that if I told him that we’d had a normal fucking session he wouldn’t have cared, but he didn’t want anyone else slipping through my back door. Brian needed to learn that my asshole wasn’t his and who was in control here.

“What I do with my asshole is really none of your business.” I responded back. My butt hole doesn’t fuck and tell to my lovers, only to my blog readers.

- Sienna Sinclaire® - The Single Girl®: Your Naughty Lifestyle Guide

Saturday, February 18, 2012

The Kill Shirt

My first date with Patrick started off frustrating. We were meeting at a trendy bar in Santa Monica that I’ve never heard of before. It was small and hard to find (kinda like the dick of the first guy I ever fucked). I ended up circling the block about four times: trying to find the damn place, discovering the parking lot was closed for renovations, and looking for the valet. Apparently this was the only place in all of L.A. without a valet.

Eventually I parked in a garage two blocks away, which meant I had to walk. I was in heels, and looking hot (as always) and wasn’t in the mood to make such a long trek…I didn’t want to break a sweat for my date (though I would later) before he even had a chance to see my hair looking good. I made a promise to my aching feet and to my gorgeous new Jimmy Choo shoes to always make sure the place has valet.

On the walk over, my phone buzzed. Patrick asked if he could order me a drink. What a nice guy, I thought. I finished reading the text, however, and realized there was only five minutes left for happy hour. What a cheap ass. Guess it makes sense now why Patrick changed our meeting from 8 pm to 7:30 pm. I’m definitely not a happy hour kind of girl, unless you’re talking about exciting my beaver for an hour… then I’m on board. I like knowing my date spent some money on me, makes me feel better about giving it up so easily.

I finally get to my date forty minutes later, surprised he was even still there. But was glad he decided to wait it out because not only was he very good looking but a great conversationalist which has been hard to find with some of the dates I’ve been on lately. The more I looked at him the more I realized he looked exactly like Dexter from the TV show, except hotter.

He was even wearing Dexter’s Kill Shirt but in grey. The color complemented his BEAUTIFUL dark hair. I began to fanaticize about Patrick whipping his knife out to kill me. The thought of fucking the look alike of a serial killer gave me serious lady wood. I was ready to take this killer back to my place so he could slay me with his penis.

Once I had made the decision that I was going to fuck my Dexter, I asked him back to my place for “drinks.” We soon got down to business. I ripped his kill shirt off, and waited for him to stick me good.

I was having a great time fucking this guy until his sweat glands suddenly kicked it into overdrive. Nothing is worse than a guy who drips buckets all over you. I had to move my face to avoid being dripped on. “God, my hair is gonna look like shit tomorrow,” I thought. “He might as well jizz in my hair. It’d basically have the same effect.”

Thinking fast, I put a pillow in between us to act as the sweat catcher. Drowning by sweat wasn’t exactly what I had in mind when I fanaticized about getting killed by the gorgeous Dexter look alike.

I quickly decided to doggie style it up. It was the perfect position, the only thing that he needed to touch were the body parts that counted. My solution worked great, until he wanted to get back on top of me. I don’t really blame him for wanting a better view of my boobs, but Christ was he sweaty! I began to pray to the vagina gods in the sky that they would end this wet (and not in a good way) business, and let him come.

Poor kid, he tried to experiment. He tried using his arms to lift off of me, but that just made his sweat drip even more. Then he tried lying on top of my body. I was pressed up against his moist body, slipping and sliding against him.

I definitely took one for the team that night. I’ve never been so happy to have someone come. Cuddling was out of the question and so was morning sex unless it was in the shower.

That night I made a major mental note. Next time, I need to gauge my date’s liquids so his glands won’t have as much ammo to attack me with. And I obviously need to make my room freezing cold to prevent this guy from getting as sweaty as Tim Gunn watching Brokeback Mountain.

- Sienna Sinclaire® - The Single Girl®: Your Naughty Lifestyle Guide

Wednesday, February 15, 2012

The Noogie

My first date with Chad was a memorable one.

When we had agreed to go on a date the week before, I got daily text messages from him; sexual updates, pleas for naked pictures and much more. This guy wasn’t shy about his libido or letting me know exactly what he wanted to do with me.

Normally, my lady parts and I are flattered. We like a man who has a healthy sexual appetite but prefer to actually go out before the guy starts begging me for nudies.

Most people would take this as a sign to cancel, but not me. I looked at this as an opportunity for a great (awful), but freaky dating story. I’m always up to see what a penis will do to get some quality fucking time in, so I didn’t call the date off.

During the week, a radio show asked if I could come in to do a show. They said I had my pick of days but my schedule was already booked with different dates each night. Someone was going to have to get pushed back but who? Just then I thought about Chad and our date for Friday night. Bingo! Since this guy was so desperate to see me, my natural reaction was to make him wait. I had to keep this overzealous horndog on a tight leash. He had to know who wore the pants.

We were supposed to meet at nine, but I showed up a quarter to ten. Chad had texted me during his wait, saying he looked like a loser waiting for an online date. I laughed thinking that even eHarmony had standards that this certifiable sex-addict probably wouldn’t meet. I responded and told him he just looked like who’d been stood up for a date.

He waited forty-five minutes for me. I had a feeling he was doing some heavy penis thinking. He would’ve waited four hours if it meant he was going to get the chance to bump nasties with me.

When I got there, I knew I looked good. I was wearing a super sexy red number. It was tight and short, perfectly accentuating my lovely lady lumps. I could practically see the boner in his pants leap out to greet me.

We started talking, and it was clear this guy thought he was God’s gift. He laughed at his own pathetic jokes (of which there were plenty). He snorted through the gap in his front teeth. And he stared at my breasts like a deer caught in the headlights. God, he was annoying.

I started talking just to get him to shut up. I said something joking about Santa Monica, which was apparently the wrong thing to do. Chad was born and raised in the town (which explained a lot). He was visibly agitated by my comments, and his reaction only made me want to egg him on. (When I first meet people, I like to test the waters out. Especially if the date isn’t going well, I spice things up by lashing out with my smart-ass personality. I enjoy making jerks squirm in their discomfort.)

After a few more Santa Monica–related quips, I finally stopped talking. There was a long, uncomfortable silence. I stared him down like Larry David just to add to the awkwardness.

I decided it was time to leave. I reached for my purse and pulled out my credit card to pay for my drinks. The next thing I know, he gets up and sits beside me. His penis must’ve been talking to him, “Chad, she’s getting away! Don’t let her leave!”

He tried flirting with me. He pulled me close then grabbed the hair on my head and gave me a noogie. Was this guy in fourth grade? I wondered.

“What the hell!?” I said, pulling myself away from him. “You don’t do that to a girl unless she’s your fuckin’ sister!”

I straightened my hair out and got out of my seat.

“So we going to your place or mine?” he asked.

“Have you lost your fucking mind?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “But… I thought…”

“I seriously felt like I was just molested by an eight-year-old with that noogie you gave me.”

“Well, it won’t feel that way in the bedroom if you know what I mean.” He slowly licked his lips as though he was demonstrating his talents to me.

I stormed out of the bar leaving him with the bill. This guy just gave me a noogie for Christ’s sake. I sure as hell didn’t want to discover his idea of foreplay.

When I got home he left me a message, apologizing. He said he wanted to see me again. Needless to say, I did my vadge a favor by dodging that bullet.

- Sienna Sinclaire® - The Single Girl®: Your Naughty Lifestyle Guide

Tuesday, February 14, 2012

The Big Cock

My second date with Brian I decided to go all the way. He was sexy as hell, and hands down one of the hottest guys I’ve ever dated. I melted every time he smiled at me and my pussy tingled just staring at his tall 6’3" build. I had to fuck him!

I invited him back to my place for “drinks," the universal code word for “I want your beef in my taco.” It didn’t take long before we were all over each other. He was on my bed, and I was about to take off his pants. I noticed then just how big his cock looked through his pants. Dear Lord!

My mind started reeling. There’s no fucking way it’s that huge. So I whipped his dick out and…it was even bigger out of his pants. This had to be the biggest dick I've seen in my life and this coming from someone who's in porn. It was not only long but wide as hell, and it looked like it was only going to grow more as he got more excited.

I’ve seen quite a few beautiful, big cocks in my life. But this thing looked like a monster. It was almost frightening. He looked like he had swallowed six other dicks for lunch. So I put my hand around it to test out the width and to see exactly what I was working with here but as I figured my hand wouldn’t even fit around it.

I’m always up for a challenge, so I decided to go ahead with giving him head. I opened my mouth as big as it would stretch and it barely covered the tip of his head. I tried to go further but couldn't as it was way too wide – talk about a mouthful. I would’ve had to unhinge my jaw to go all the way down on him but that challenge I wasn't up for.

I resorted to using my hand job techniques, the ones I save for when my mouth gets sore, when I’m not in a blowjob mood or in this case when it's just too damn big. They never teach you in books how to handle a massive cock when giving a hand job. It’s always one hand on the balls while you slowly move the other down on the shaft in a twisting movement while working your mouth down the penis. But when you're working with a massive cock you need your hands and mouth for balance not for trying out new techniques. Maybe that should be my next book!

While working hard and determined to give Brian an amazimg blow job he mentioned how he wanted me to play with his balls. But Brian’s bad mammajamma needed two hands to work the shaft and to hold it up including myself. His balls were being vastly neglected but I only have two hands and one mouth which were already focused on his head and shaft. If I even tried to move I was gonna lose my balance so I stayed focus on the job at hand.

For that go-round, I wasn’t prepared for the big challenge Brian’s huge penis gave me. But I was better prepared the next time I went down on him. As the load he shot in my mouth was a clear indicator that he loved my half-blow, half-hand job. But lord, if that wasn’t work!

- Sienna Sinclaire® - The Single Girl®: Your Naughty Lifestyle Guide

Saturday, February 11, 2012

Dating Tip: Cleaning up for your next lover

If you're one of the lucky few to have two lovers in one day and need to clean up quickly without leaving any evidence of your other lover then here are a few quick tips:

Lint Brush - Perfect for picking up any hairs your lover left behind on your bed sheets and pillow cases.

Tide Stick - Works perfect for small stains on your clothes but comes in handy for quick clean up jobs to remove any evidence left behind from your lover.

Febreze - Spray this to get rid of that "just had sex with someone else before you came over" smell.

And don't forget to air out your place but simply opening the windows and you're all set for your next sex romp!!! Have fun and be courteous to your next lover.

- Sienna Sinclaire® - The Single Girl®: Your Naughty Lifestyle Guide

The Deal

It’s been another day in La La Land (aka Los Angeles), which means I have another story about a penis to share.

I’ve been out with a guy named Brian about three times. He’s the cliché handsome as hell, smooth talking stud who any girl (especially me) willing rips her panties off for.
Thursday night we were together and he asked me (keywords here) if I wanted to spend SuperBowl Sunday with him. Sports and me are like Vodka and whiskey, we don’t exactly go together. But if he was up for a whole day of fucking, then you bet you’re left butt cheek that I could instantly morph into the biggest Giants fan ever.
We even made up a football fucking game. Every fourth down, he would get a blowjob. Every field goal, we would sixty-nine. And every touchdown meant we would scored too, an orgasm for both teams!
I texted him Friday afternoon to check on our plans. Here's how it went:
Me: If you’re still planning on coming over Sunday it would be great if you could give me a time because going to lunch with a friend that day and need to plan accordingly. :) Thanks!
Brian: Okay, I'll tell you tomorrow. I might go watch the game.

(My thoughts: WTF! I thought we were going to watch the game together? I have a life, man. I can’t sit around waiting for you to make up your mind. My pussy isn’t at your beck and call. She’s not gonna sit up and roll over for you.)
Instead I played it cool.
Me: No worries. I'll just plan with my girlfriend that day. Have fun.
Brian: Okay babe, I'll come over after. K?
(My thoughts: He has lost his fucking mind. There is no way in hell that I will tolerate your wishy-washy shit. Making me wait? Cancelling on me? Yet he still expects me to fulfill his fucking football fantasies? Hell no.)
Me: Don't worry about it. I'm not someone you can make plans with, cancel, then change your mind and say you'll come over after.
Brian: Got it. Sorry. Didn't mean to disrespect you. Won't happen again. Or am I cut off already?
Me: Never said I didn't want to see you again, just wanted to let you know it's not very polite to say you'll get back with me tomorrow (when I need to plan with my girlfriend for lunch), and you might just go watch the game when we already made plans. Then say you will just come over afterwards. Seriously? Think how that would sound if someone said that to you.
Brian: Yep, got it. Sorry very sloppy, and I don't have plans yet. I just don't want to spend too much time with you. Have to watch my feelings around you. You're very powerful.

(My thoughts: What the hell? He’s the one who made the goddamn plans. Now he doesn’t want to spend too much time together because he’s afraid of getting hurt? When did guys become such pussies? Grow some balls.)
Me: That's your call.
Brian: The real good things in life should be enjoyed a little at a time. I won't disrespect you again. Sorry.
Me: I'm not here to play games...if you like someone then you just hang out with them. I don't want to feel like you’re spacing your time out.
Me: I like you Brian, and I would like to get to know you more. But I don't think you’re going to allow me to. I think it's best if we don't waste our time with each other. But I did enjoy our time together :)
Brian: That's ironic.
Me: I know, isn't it? :) But I seriously don't want to play games with someone. If I like someone, I like them and want to hang out with them.
Brian: When did I say anything different than that? I felt safe with someone who says she's never been in love. Wants an open relationship! No strings right?
(My thoughts: Obviously he doesn’t feel safe if he has to watch his feelings around me.)
Me: Well, let's see. You canceled on me then you tell me you don't want to see me too much. How would you feel if the tables were turned? Just because I want an open relationship doesn't mean I can't have feelings for someone.
Brian: Sienna, I'm sorry I changed plans babe. It won't happen again. I do like you and want to see you again.
Me: I'm all for that! But don't put a time limit on how much we hang out. If I want to see you, I want to see you. And vice versa.

Brian: Deal! I still want to see you on Sunday. Hope that’s okay?

Me: I’ll think about it…

- Sienna Sinclaire® - The Single Girl®: Your Naughty Lifestyle Guide

The Beginning...

Lust and love are everywhere in Los Angeles, especially under my panties. On this blog, I’ve made it my sole mission to tell you all about my electrifying sexual experiences: the ones that rocked my pussy’s world and the absurd ones that didn’t exactly give me lady wood.

Before we delve into the nitty-gritties of my sexcapades, there are a few things you should know about me:
I'm a Single Girl by choice (I mean have you seen this ass?). I'm absolutely not looking for a monogamous relationship or marriage. Walk me down the aisle? Gag me. Life’s too short for one penis! My pussy has an insatiable appetite, and I need more than one cock in my life. My motto is the lyrics to Cyndi Lauper’s lyrics “Girls, Just Want To Have Fun.”

I’m not looking for a husband, but I am looking for the perfect partner in crime. My idea of a perfect relationship is similar to Simone de Beauvoir and Jean-Paul Sartre’s (explained in the book Tête-à-Tête). They had an open relationship that lasted over fifty years. They never exchanged vows, had kids, or lived together. But they shared theirs lives together in a different sort of way. The only commitment they made was a commitment to happiness, and however many fucks they could get in.

Is there someone out there who will be my Tête-à-Tête lover? We’re gonna have fun finding out!

- Sienna Sinclaire® - The Single Girl®: Your Naughty Lifestyle Guide