Slow your roll, Stretch.

I am on AFF not to date, but to find a tolerable guy with a delightfully large penis to fuck me now and then – or maybe just once. A relationship that involves brunch, spending the night, vacationing together, or just generally hanging out while not having sex is not what I seek. That’s boyfriend/girlfriend shit and I am not about that life. Maybe someday I might change my mind (I won’t.), but not now. So, then…

A particularly tall guy sent me a message on AFF with a face photo and he seemed to have a grasp of the English language, so I replied. (We’ll call him Stretch. He’s 6’7″. Plane Guy is 6’6″. The tallest dude I was ever with was 6’8″, in case you’re keeping score.) We ended up texting via the app Kik, which seems to be the preferred way to text someone without actually exchanging phone numbers. I rather dig it. It is also possible to block someone, which I have already done. Twice. We seemed to have some random things in person and our conversation flowed pretty well, but…He started talking about taking me out on a date for dinner, him cooking for me, and things of that ilk. Boyfriendly shit. That is not my jam.

He asked to do a video call via Kik and I refused because I had been cleaning out my garage and I was a sweaty, filthy mess. Legit. I had no makeup on, my hair was frizzed out, and my face was red and sweaty because it was so freaking hot outside. Stretch said he didn’t care about me not looking perfect and that he’ll see me without makeup or picking my nose at some point. Whoa. Whoa. Whoa.

Okay, Stretch. No, you fucking won’t see me without makeup or picking my nose. You see, the best part of a no-strings situation is that we see one another at our best. I’m not going to be around you if you are sick or sad or in a bad mood. I’m not your keeper. I will primp and make myself as sexy as I possibly can so that we can engage in nasty monkey sex. If my makeup smudges during the act, please consider that a badge of honor, but there’s no fucking way that I’ll take off my face for you or for any other man (except for my plastic surgeon). I don’t care how good the D is, okay? It is not going to happen. End of story.

He texted me this morning to say hi, but he wrote (after maybe 45 minutes of us texting/talking TOTAL the night before) this: “Good morning I hope you have a great day love you can chat call me” and then a little while later I got “Hey baby”. Can you please not? First of all, the lack of punctuation in the first text vexed my spirit greatly. Do not call me “love” or “baby” when I don’t know you like that. In fact, don’t call me either of those things ever. I seek some good peen for occasional recreational sex, not a boyfriend. Oh – he also asked me if I like holding hands. Um. No, I do not. ABORT! ABORT!

I fear that Stretch has a relationship situation in mind, so I think I had better set him straight quickly. I don’t want to string him along if he is looking for someone to be his woman because…that woman? She is not me.

…and always remember: Ho is life, y’all!

Sluttily yours,
#notesfromaslut #honeytoes #hoislife

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