What I Learned From Online Dating

I’ve learned a lot of things from dating online from guys profiles and their photos. And I’ve learned that dating online makes for amazing stories for my blogs. 

Drinking: Guys who show photos of themselves with a drink in their hand means that they always have a drink in their hand. Leave the photos of you drinking out of your photos. I’ll find out later if you’re an alcoholic. 

Kids: Guys for some reason think that girls want to see them with a kid in the photo. Gag me. You don’t need to grab your friend’s kid to make it look like you like kids. Nothing is worse than the best photo of you is with a kid, it’s hard to masturbate to when I’m thinking of you.

Sex: Don’t take a picture of just your bed and post it, leave some mystery. I want to be surprised when I walk into your bedroom and only find a bed with one pillow and a blanket as thin as an airplane one. 

Photos: I don’t care about your travel photos. It’s fine if you put up one but don’t have 10 photos and only one showing your face. Also, take off the sunglasses so I can make sure you’re not hiding any bags and take off your hats just in case you’re covering up a comb over or no hair. Or if you have no hair don’t cut the photo off at your forehead so I can’t see what you have going on on top. And try to show a close-up of your face that isn’t blurry or with you wearing sunglasses or a hat. And leave the hot girl out of the photo, I know it’s just your sister or your guy friends girlfriend. No girl wants to see another girl in your photo. And leave your friends out of the photo, nothing is worse than having to guess which one you are.

This is a dating site not your Facebook page so show your best photos that actually show YOU and only you. 

Height: I’ve quickly learned that anyone over 6’0” is usually telling the truth about their height. And that 5’10” on a dating site really means 5’9” or even 5’8”. So I make sure not to date anyone who’s 5’10” because I know I will show up and it will be some short dude. I remember the first time this happened. I went to meet this guy wearing my 5 inch heels which made me 5’10” so I knew I’d be right at his height. I got to the bar excited to meet and as soon as I saw him sitting down I was pleased because he was very good looking. But it wasn’t until he stood up that I realized that he lied about his height. He was looking at me thinking how hot I looked and thank god she’s better looking in person and who she says she really is. And all I can think about is how he lied about his height and next time I’m going to have to only wear my 4 inch heels or maybe just my flats. 

Accents: People who know me know I don’t like accents or people that I have to explain what something means because they speak another language. But I have no problem with British accents as long as they are proper. So I decided to go out with someone who put that they had a “ruggedly sexy Scottish accent” on their profile. This was coming from the same lad who lied about his height. Rugged yes, sexy not. As I’m at dinner trying to listen to the little person sitting in front of me it’s hard to understand this little man when I can barely understand his Scottish accent. Had to ask him to speak slower a few times as if I’m hard of hearing and he’s a retarded little person.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

www.NaughtyLifestyleExpert.com

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

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

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

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

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

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

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