Naked New York's Finest

I joined a dating service called Happn and what it does, is to connect you with people that you've crossed paths with. Let me tell you, the premise sounded super cool to me, 'cause in all honesty I have at least 3 crushes a day with dudes that I find delicious.
(As I am writing this entry there is one sitting in front of me at this coffee shop.)

On my first week of having the app, let's talk of one of those Fridays when I came back home at 2am, with maybe one too many Jameson's on my body, I decided to check out the app and see what up. Well, what was up was this police dude who contacted me and immediately during our 2 minute text exchange, he proceeded to send me the picture that 'adornes' this post. My reaction was -huh?- even though I was drunk I still thought of the following:

1- Is he hot or not
2- Wait. Weren't we just texting for about just 2 min+
3- This is a police man. Police man. Police man. Yum... maybe?
4- Indiscretions like these, are great writing material.

I did reply. with a: Is this you right now? (code for: Perhaps I will be the equivalent of Samantha at FDNY's station... I wouldn't mind...)

He said no. He was on duty and driving on a car patrolling the streets of the very dangerous Upper East Side. Right after, he sent me a dark pic of him while he was working. Didn't like his face very much. He was wearing glasses and seemed a bit off, kinda insecure. Mmmm.

I kept on drinking tequila and we continued our conversation escalating into the very sexual.
I gotta admit I was pushing it, and being really flirtatious because I really wanted to see, how far this will go.

In every sense.

...It was already very late and I started to feel drunk-leepy (yeah, you know, the drunk the falls asleep on the couch 'cause he or she just wanted to the rest the eyes for 5m) He said he was going to take a break.

I fell asleep (I think in the couch) and woke up to see more messages of him pushing me to send him a picture: I. Don't. Do. That. And with the morning light he sent me another pic. still looked not hot, insecure and ... just not my type. I also remembered the naked picture and said: What the fuck was he thinking?

Unlike our Congressmen, Senators, public figures etc. I am somehow careful when it comes to this. God forbid it ends up at a blog like mine.

Sex is my trap

It is the truth. I have tried what I would like to call my own 'sex-hab' which is some kind of rehab for sex addicts, like me. Before we continue, let me explain a little bit more about my addiction: mine consists of adoring the way sex makes me feel, and the more I know myself, it is even more intense. I feel free. I reach the highest altitudes of mind: so much, I need to meditate afterwards to come down. It can also take me hours to 'recover'. And my favorite part, it makes me worship every inch of my body as I would do, with yours. I am addict to watch and why not since we are at the accepting part of it, I am a total slave of my senses.

Just now writing these lines -I think- this doesn't sound bad.

What is bad is, because of these myriad of sensations that transform me into a heavenly creature and a beast -making me love and get deeper into every stage of it- is the fact that I get trapped in those, so what happens is that I make of myself my own object of 'feeling' and I do the same with you, which greatly limits any capacity to see anything else beyond that. So when I lose you, I lose me.

And I hate to fucking lose.

...Then the cycle starts and ends, once again.

My addiction is my perdition and I KNOW IT. It is because of that reasoning (and also because I feel like shit) that I have decided to surrender to these thoughts on an honest attempt to come out of this cyclic and sweet trap with a lovingly open heart,  because I also know how he is vast in love and immense, the second component to this sex-hab: is accepting the power that my physical self has over me with my head as the commander.

And the third part is: I am writing these lines because is the only way I know, to let me out of this.

Husband!

I recently joined Tinder to see what the 'excessive excitement' was about. These are the words that come to mind after my 3 week stint: Douche Bags and Interstate Love. I would react with a resounding NO to the first and I would definitely  consider the other but, my dudes: Help. Yourselves.

Now let's take a look at your profile.  Are you guilty of any of the following? Right below you will see exactly how my brain reacts to it.

Do you appear with an earpiece? 
My Brain:
Miami Vice. Or Secret Service (yumm...but no) perhaps if you were in fact Secret Service you wouldn't be on Tinder to begin with. Hiccup. Sorry, my bad. I just remembered the discreet affair with the screaming 'lady' in Cartagena.

Are you holding a fish?
My Brain: Huh?


Do you exclusively have pictures with Asian chicks?
My brain: Mmm. Swipe.

Do you appear on pictures with friends that are hotter than you?
My Brain: (I think)
The risk of me wanting to meet you, so I can meet them, is 98%

Do you only have your height as the best line you could come up with on your profile? 
Do me a favor, at least show a bit of an effort and you may get laid. (two lines or less will do for me, I swear.)

Do you have more than one image when you are drunk beyond recognition? 
My Brain:
Dude, spring break 1989 revival... every weekend?

In your gallery your 'pecs' look bigger than mine?
My Brain:
Pleeeease. We haven't met and you made me feel bad already? Sad Face.



Is your name Knut?
My brain:
I would have  sued my parents and then I would have lied. All my life. Everywhere. What the hell.

Do you have an altered picture using any of those photo editors, where you appear with two heads and thought: 'Shit, this is so awesome!'
My Brain:
Is not. And where the fuck were your friends?. Swipe.

You have a photo of 'A' bicep, blurry as hell, no filters could have ever saved it... and that's it?
My Brain:
HUSBAND!

I am game

The One Night (5 Minute) Stand

It was one of those nights when I wanted to fuck or fight. I felt feisty, fiery and primal. I was standing by the bar sipping a mezcal, when suddenly a boy that  I saw earlier outside smoking a cig, introduced himself. He did spoke Spanish. I heard him before. So I went ahead and started a conversation with him. We were openly flirting and after two hours talking about I don't know what, he kissed me and I kissed him back.
He was visiting and was in hotel in Midtown.
We jumped into a cab together with my apartment as the destination in mind. Meanhwile in the cab, we were all hands over each other and lips that hardly were able to separate. Only from time time, just to breath.

The night looked promising. I could only visualize this beautiful blue eyed man, 6' 2, slim, and with that Latin American fire, playing with me, under the sheets.

We got home and came straight to my room and immediately we were on my bed. He stripped me off of my clothes in seconds while I would try to find  moments to undress him slowly. Finally we were naked. He was beautiful, soft, well built and strong. I was only contemplating how to start tasting this delicacy.

Tangled in my bed the moment of truth arrived. He was ready, I was ready.

I wanted him.

To my disgrace or fortune while I was about to begin, he already had finished. But wait.
It gets better. He made up a leg cramp and in a quick move turned, laying on his chest. He was there for a good 10 minutes complaining and saying that he was very sorry that It was a shame that something like that, would happen that night. 'Let me go to my hotel, get my pills for the pain and I will be right back'

Sure- I said.

He walked out.

I locked the door, turned the phone off and had a wonderful night of sleep.

Bite Me

Striptease

From the cheap locals in Bogota, to the upscale clubs in New York and to the raunchy in New Orleans.  As a confessed striptease lover, I have seen many strippers in all shapes and forms and have witnessed a wide range of strip-tease shows: classy, elegant, sloppy, creative, impressive, hot  -one of them involved fire on someone's nipples- (I swear)

I have often wondered how it would be like to be the stripper. So I did it. I stood firmly in front of him,  and immediatly, I felt the power of me: of my body, my skin, my softness, the shape of my legs, the perkiness of my breasts and the roundness of my ass. The way I move. All of my feminine qualities.
...And there he was: staring at me, hungry. Completely surrendered and defeated while my eyes shouted: 'I'm a teaser. I'm a virgin. I'm a one night stand. I'm a dream to find' 

NOTE: Now, play this song. I promise. You won't regret it.

http://snd.sc/16IqCcK