Well, happy birthday to me.
Today is my birthday—thank you very much, Mom and Dad. As I rebounded between birthday blowjobs, I opened my email to discover that I had been nominated for sex blog awards from Dirtyspoke. And not in one category, nor two, but in two-and-one-ninth categories!
I’ve sent my tux to the cleaners and I’m preparing a list of the little people to thank.
But wait—the awards are not yet ready to be claimed. That will come February 1. For now, I look to you—the little people—to vote.
Just click on the graphic above to cast your ballots for yours truly in Best Sex Blog, Best Male Sex Blog, and, under Best Group/Couple Blog, vote for Viviane’s Sex Carnival, where I am one of nine contributors.
Beyond that, I leave you to your own choices. I’m not lobbying for any other candidates, as that deci . . . that deci . . . excuse me, I feel a sneeze coming on . . . ah, ah . . . ah-chelseagirl! Huh, whew. Now, as I was saying, that decision is really yours to make.
I should say a kind word about the other contenders. So let me say it is an honor to be considered among such worthies, some of whom are my dear friends. I very much look forward to seeing their smiling faces in the split screen when I race, tits over ass, to give my acceptance speech.
In other news, I am making some progress in my goal of receiving blowjobs from forty-four individuals during my birthday month—one for every year of my life, plus one to grow on.
In the four days since announcing this goal, I’ve added ten blowjobs to the tally. We are now at twenty-three blowjobs: fifteen for the men, eight for the women.
If I were a younger man, we’d be done. But I am not a younger man. We are just over half way to our goal.
The women held steady as the men surged ahead, in part helped along by the gay men of my boy orgy.
I would like to give special thanks, though, to the straight boys who have arranged private appointments for that rare—or, in some cases, unique—dive to fellate. I appreciate every touch of your trembling fingers, and every enthusiastic gag.
I do want to remind the women that this is not a contest, and it is fine if the men come out ahead in numbers. I mean, everyone knows that women aren’t that into sucking dick, right?
Still, I would like to make a special appeal to Jersey girls. I am new to oral sex in this region, as I moved here when I was in a monogamous relationship that had nothing to do with blowjobs. In the past three years, I have been consistently impressed . . . no wait, astonished, by the Jersey girl blowjob.
I noticed this phenomenon with my jailbait girlfriend Shelby, who gives the best head in North America. (Don’t take my word for it. Ask any of my boyfriends. Or heck, just ask the boys in her high school marching band. She’s blown us all.) Shelby introduced me to her friends Theresa and Meg, and damned if they weren’t talented cocksuckers in their own rights.
And then consider Bridget, who proves the adage that fat girls give the best head (word to the stereotype), and Avah, who would contently break the world’s record for duration, if such a record existed. They, too, are Jersey girls.
So Jersey girls, I encourage you to step forward and drop to your knees. Your blowjobs are the flowers of the garden state.
(By contrast, I don’t know if I’ve every been blown by anyone from Connecticut, male or female, or if oral sex even exists there.)
Now, before you say that getting blown at a gay orgy is about as challenging a task as bumping into a Republican on Wall Street, I have to tell you, it’s still work.
First of all, the recruiting for my boy orgy is done by my co-host, Jimmy. Jimmy knows all the club kids, go go dancers and porn stars in town. So my parties are peopled by some exceedingly hot men, including some who are famed for being exceedingly hot.
I do well for myself, don’t get me wrong, but put me naked next to a muscled nude porn star with a ten-inch dick, and my virtues fade by comparison.
These boys make all the nelly queens go weak in the knees.
But fortunately, I know a secret: the hot guys are also nelly queens. I have no problem fucking someone much hotter than me, and this has worked to my advantage in reaching my goal.
This week, though, I did face yet another obstacle. Randall was at the party.
Randall is a very cute Indian twenty-one-year-old clubber who has taken a shine to me. He sometimes calls me when he wakes up around suppertime to ask if I want to hook up.
I have to keep telling him my life just doesn’t work that way.
“Oh, right,” he yawns. “So, are you going out tonight?”
We always connect at the parties. He’s sweet and incredibly cute, so I’m always glad to swap blowjobs and fuck him real friendly like.
This week, he was one of the first to arrive.
“Hi, sweetheart,” he said, kissing me. “Do you know I haven’t had sex since the last time I was at one of your parties? And that was before Thanksgiving.”
“We’ll have to take care of that,” I smiled, panicking slightly.
Normally, I would like nothing more than to give Randall all my time.
But that would come at some price to my goal.
Randall and I got the party started. He stretched back on a bed, his baseball cap turned backwards, as I sucked his long uncut cock and ran my fingers along his lean, smooth torso.
We switched up, and he blew me, bringing me to fourteen. A crowd had gathered, jerking as Randall’s ass wriggled in the air.
God, if I fuck him, that’s it, I thought. I’ll fuck him and fuck him, and then someone else will want to get fucked, and then I’ll be pounding ass all night. I’ll never get blown.
Luckily, I saw an escape valve.
A cute kid with sideburns, nursing a lump in his underwear.
I squirmed my body to reach his side. With a glance to his eyes, I retrieved his cock and brought it to my mouth. He was thick, filling me as he grew hard.
I liked this. Randall blew me as I went after this new kid, selfishly thinking I might just make him cum.
He stopped just before he blew. He grabbed a condom and made eyes at Randall.
I was off the hook, none the wiser for my sleight of mouth.
I wriggled free and sat back to watch. Soon enough, I was getting blown.
Later, as I stood in a doorway, Dmitri took my cock in his hand and smiled. I nodded, barely looking at him.
He’s a pig. That’s how he likes it.
He kneeled and began to suck me.
I turned and took his head in my hands. I thrust hard and deep, face fucking him like the bitch he wants to be.
Drool ran down my thighs. I heard it splash to the floor.
A hot scene was ending in one room. The boys all filed out, moving on to the next thing.
Dmitri was blocking the doorway, but I held him firm, not allowing him to move. The boys turn to one side, squeezing past us like we were a turnstile.
Now, the whole party knew I meant to get my dick sucked that night.
I thanked Dmitri, and told him to mop up his mess.
My numbers climbed.
I’d like to go on about this, but I’ve gone wall-to-wall this week, so that’s all the time I have.
And you need to go vote.