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

V For Victory

I was running errands (probably getting a new vibrator), when I met him. A tall drink of water with an impeccable ass. I was sure he had the dick to match. He was new to the city, therefore new to my vagina. Being the hospitable gal that I am, I was ready to show him all the sites, including a grand tour of my pussy! A good fuck is always the best souvenir, isn’t it? After some chit chat, we decided to go out.

A few days later, we met at park for an intimate picnic one afternoon. Not my typical scene for a first date, but I enjoyed the mix up. It’ll be nice, I thought, to not have to wear my stilettos or get grinded on in the middle of the dance floor… as much as this ass loves some manly dick.

We sat down on a plush blanket and opened our picnic basket. I made us sandwiches like I was straight out of Little House and the Prairie. It was a little weird not having a glass of wine in my hand, but I knew I didn’t the extra “push” to get down and dirty later on.

Pretty soon, it was obvious to me that this guy didn’t need alcohol to get his jollies on either. Maybe it was the soft blanket, or how short my skirt was … but this guy was all over me. He kept trying to make out in the middle of the park. I get it, dude. I’m hot, and you’re as horny as my grandpa on Viagra. But let’s keep our privates, private. I enjoy the tease, the mystery – not a guy who’s easier than my 15-year-old beaver was. Treat me like a lady in public, and I promise I’ll go all Cirque du Soleil on your dick in the bedroom.

We planned another date; this time, it was at night. We met at an Italian restaurant. Luckily, he sat across from me so he couldn’t attack me in public. We headed back to his place afterwards where he made me another drink.

He put on some music. He was definitely setting the mood for sex. I appreciated the effort, even if he was obvious.

To get the evening started, I teased him by doing a little strip tease. I slowly took off my clothes one by one. Once I was completely naked, he asked if I wanted a lap dance from him. Sure, I thought. It’s about time the guy starts doing some of the work.

But as he started to strip for me, I knew I should have said no. He looked like a gay Orka whale trying to hump in sync with the HHH. My pussy was getting as dry as sandpaper in the middle of the Sahara watching him try to seduce me. I’m surprised my eyes didn’t bleed.

Then it got worse. As he took off his boxers, I noticed that he was groomed…like really groomed. I love when a guy takes care of his unruly pubes, but if he has a design shaved into his man beard… that’s a little troubling.

“What is that?” I asked. I knew what it was but I had to make sure I was right.

He looked at me with a smile, “It’s a V, baby. V for Victory.” As if I didn’t know what a V looked like, he also showed me with his fingers by making a peace sign.

“I know what a V is but why did you do that?”

“My waxing lady said I should do it, so I did.”

“Of course she did,” I told him. “ She just wanted some idiot to fall for it… and you did.”

“Wait, so I shouldn’t have done it?”

“No man should ever do that.”

It was awkward. There we were, both naked, both with our Vs hanging out. I knew I had gotten myself into this mess, I probably had to take one for the team. This guy, although a little gay, might rock my world in bed. Besides, I was already naked. Waste not, I thought.

That was an excellent decision, because he made me cum three times. But making him cum was a different story. He was very specific about how he wanted it. It’s one thing to tell someone how you like it, but it’s another to have specific instructions. I tell men all the time how I like it when they go down on me, but I don’t say: “Turn your head to the left at a 45 degree angle, now flick your tongue 10 times. Now flick it faster 20 times while holding my pussy lips with your right hand twisted to the left.”

That’s exactly how it was when giving him head. Very specific. He had no problem demanding away, too… pretty ballsy for our first time in the sack. I felt like I was reading a manual, not having sex.

We were using a condom, and he, of course, mentioned that he never gets off with a condom. (He’s not the first or last guy I’ll hear that one from.) So instead he said if you give me head I can come. So I start to give him head, and he tells me to be careful because his shaft is very sensitive. (But it’s not with a condom on?) I mean so sensitive to where it was freakin’ Tickle-Me-Elmo, but with a condom on he felt nothing.

He twisted and pushed my head to the position he wanted it so I can suck his cock at the right angle.

“Don’t push my head like I’m a fuckin’ rag doll,” I told him. “Just tell me where you want me to move my head.”

“It’s just easier to put you where I want it.”

“That’s not how I work if you want to get off.”

So he had me sucking his cock at an angle so that I wouldn’t go too deep on his shaft. My head is on his left leg while his cock is going sideways into my mouth. It was a fuckin’ Geometry problem to get this kid off.

Normally when it’s late, I have no problem staying the night especially if it’s someone because I love morning sex. But no way was I going to do mental math early in the morning just to pleasure the guy with the ridiculous pubes.

After he came, I quickly got my stuff, told him it was fun and left. He called me to get together that weekend with some for a foursome, which normally I’d be up for… but not with this guy.

I told him I had fun, but that I wasn’t interested in seeing him anymore. I felt that he was up front and honest with me about exactly how he liked his cocked sucked, so I thought I’d return the favor with exactly how I felt about his specific dick-sucking needs.



- 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

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