WTFWJCVDD – Edition Fifteen

Home Field Advantage

When I get it on with a girl, I like to go back to her place. There are various reasons for this but the main one is that I want her to have as little access to me as possible. I don’t like surprises and my ex-girlfriend found that out the hard way. One night she popped in while I was in the middle of entertaining another girl and I threw a can of beans at her head, thinking she was an intruder of course. Whether it’s a one-night stand or a continuous friends with benefits situation, I want to be able to severe our ties with one another when the shit hits the fan (because no one likes the site of doodie hitting moving wooden blades) because it will – it always does.

By going to her place, I maintain the control and therefore keep the interaction rational and emotionless. I can leave when I want and I don’t have to deal with getting rid of her when she out stays her welcome, which tends to be roughly 10 – 15 seconds after I blow my load. Additionally I don’t have to worry about surprise visits, and replacing my stash of canned beans. If she only has my phone number, the worst she can do is call me, and every girl gets tired of making unanswered calls – eventually.

There are disadvantages to playing as the visiting team though …

A regular in my rotation is this forty-year-old cougar. She’s recently separated from her husband and in the process of a divorce, so she’s very needy – hence the much needed distance and ambiguity I like to establish. The sex is great and she greets me in lingerie with an open, cold beer. People have told me there is no way that a woman does that. I simply say if you can train a dog to shit outside, you can train a female to bring you a cold beer.

Last Tuesday I went over and we started going at it. She likes the lights off, like every insecure woman does, but luckily we’ve had an ongoing thing for a while so I felt comfortable with the terrain and the environment. I worked my way down to give her oral and upon arriving south of the border I quickly became aware that she hadn’t shaved, (maybe ever). She had an untamed bush and it smelled like hot moldy Gouda. While trying to muscle through it I was surprised by a purr and paused to figure out what was going on. This hairy thing that was between the cougar’s box and I began to move and claw at me.

I quickly jumped up and turned on the lights to find her lying naked in the bed with a kitten curled up between her legs. I immediately realized that I didn’t have pubs stuck to my tongue, but actual cat hair so I rushed to the bathroom to rinse and gargle. She said I wasn’t coming over enough so she bought a cat because she was lonely. Apparently she wasn’t the only one in need of more attention. Annoyed and nauseous I got dressed and went home to take care of my blue balls the only way I know how to recover from a night like that – with my left hand, aka the stranger.

Maybe I need to reassess my perspective about playing on the road, or at least stay away from cats for a while …

Until the next Kumate …

For your consideration:
If size doesn’t matter, then explain the origin of the Rambo dildo.