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

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

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

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

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

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