Dear Mr. X,
I want you! I want you! I want you! I feel like one of those dolls with a string you pull, those dolls that say something every time. Me I just say “I want you!”, and then the string probably gets me stripping and makes my legs fly wide open. I am that kind of doll, which I guess you could call a sex doll.
So thanks to you I had a big adventure. Last Thursday night I went out to my favorite bar with a gay friend of mine. You can probably guess where, but every Thursday night is ladies’ night there, and shots are free. We go most Thursday nights, sometimes with a bigger group. We dance and get a little intoxicated, and sometimes somebody picks me up, or I pick up somebody, and either we rent a room in the hotel upstairs or we go back to my place or his. I have had some crazy encounters in there. One time a man took me up to a room where his wife was naked in bed watching television and waiting for us. They kept calling me “Cristal” even though the man knew my name was Mona. Anyway, that is another story and if you ever meet me in a bar do NOT call me Cristal (not that it was boring, but twice is boring, and I would never want you to bore me).
I don’t usually have to use a pickup line on these Thursday nights (I dress and they drool, baby!), but when I see a really yummy man I will sometimes go over and ask if he is gay. It is the perfect pickup line. Either he wants to prove to you that he is not gay, or he is actually gay (my friend went home with a man one night after I asked him this and he said Yes!). Also, if he does not laugh right away, or at least smile, you know he is an asshole.
Continue reading Mathematical Stripping: Mona’s response to her Pick-up Experiment
Dear Fearless Flirter,
I am attaching my résumé, since after your office fantasy I don’t think there’s anyplace I’d rather work. You will notice that I have no previous experience at “Ravaging the boss on her desk alongside a co-worker”, but I assure you that I am a fast learner. I’m willing to work long hours, stay late. Weekends. Company picnics. Hell, I’ll even pick up your dry cleaning. Just get me on staff, you sexy beast (a term I don’t know that I’ve ever applied to a woman, but in your case it’s deserved), and we’ll take it from there. I look forward to my first performance review.
In the meantime I want you to do some recruiting. No, I’m not afraid of competing candidates. I want you out in the world interviewing, shaking hands, undoing another button, etc. I want it to be at night, I want drinks to be involved, I want you to be dressed even sexier than usual, and I want your job interview to consist of just three words: “I want you.” Continue reading Mona’s Pick-up Experiment
One of the interesting effects of anonymously giving your hot wife sexual dares (over which you both privately obsess), is that the thrill often sends your libidos off the charts, and then neither of us officially has any clue as to why the other is so hot to strip. We’re living private adventures, which is thrilling, but they’re really the same adventure. And the hotter those private adventures get, the more extravagant we are in the bedroom. All of which seems to be leading us towards some cataclysmic fuck as apocalyptic as the Bomb in a science fiction movie.
A few last remaining survivors wander the streets in a daze, in lingerie, urgently seeking more sex.
Human civilization has been destroyed by the Great Fuck, but only more fucking will save them…
…from a strain of Sex Zombies who want to fuck them…to death! Continue reading Sex Zombies: the result of Mona’s Sidewalk Experiment
Dear Mr. X,
Where were you, baby?! I waited for you in a dark alleyway, so wet because I wanted you to lick my nipples and let me taste your cock. I want it in my mouth, and I want to take it very deep. I have practice in cocksucking. I know how to take it so far back in my mouth that you won’t last a minute. Just consider that an invitation, sexy boy. Name the place and the time, and I will be there with lipstick on – on my knees! Continue reading Open Door Policy: Mona’s response to her Sidewalk Experiment
Dear Sultry Shaven Seductress,
I dream of you from many directions now – I dream of you naked on your balcony in the night, and I dream of your shaven pussy being adoringly licked through your pantyhose. You’re a wild one, and I only wish I could be wild with you.
So this week we’re going to focus on that wild pussy of yours – because I’m focusing on it, and because I’m convinced that you focus on it much more than the average woman does (which is one of the qualities I most admire in a woman). So take off those hose – it’s ridiculously warm out right now – and wear a skirt or a dress that makes you feel like fucking. Also: wear high heels. Also: wear a g-string, a teeny bikini, the skimpiest, sexiest pair of panties in your arsenal. You might also want to make these panties a pair you’re willing to lose, because you’re going to lose them. Continue reading Mona’s Sidewalk Experiment
A few days after Mona conspired to have herself masturbated through sheer pantyhose at a party, my wife and I went to a party, too. I will admit that I was hoping to find Mona there: for a glimpse of her fabulous tits, at the very least, and maybe for a private bedroom fondle of her shaven pussy through sheer hose? Well she wasn’t there, although the crowd was fun, and drinking a lot. We didn’t know a lot of the people attending, which is rare in a smaller town, and which tends to turn us both on. Nothing’s healthier for a marriage, as far as I’m concerned, than a bit of across-the-room flirtation, a hint of possibilities. And my wife does turn heads, and my head does enjoy a good turn or two. Continue reading So Sunk Down in the Fuck: the result of Mona’s Party Experiment
Dear Mr. X,
You make me so horny, and I love your whole mystery man thing, but I also hate it, because I really want to fuck you. I want to take off all my clothes for you slowly, not all at once like that night on the balcony, and show you my tits first and let you kiss my nipples, then show you my pussy which will be shaven in a strip, and put your hand between my legs to feel how wet I am. I just imagine the look on your face, and I imagine unzipping your pants and putting your yummy cock in my mouth. I could definitely show you things. You want to fuck me now, don’t you? Continue reading I bet you want to fuck me: Mona’s response to her Party Experiment
I can’t tell you how much I miss gazing upon your naked body. Could we maybe make it a weekly thing? Say, I come around to the clump of palms beneath your balcony every Tuesday at 11 P.M., and you take off absolutely everything? Think about it. I know I do, regularly, and my hand starts creeping, and I dream of all the naked things I could do with your naked body. The neighbors would never be the same. Continue reading Mona’s Party Experiment
Daring Mona is unlike daring my wife. It is unlike daring other women on this site, who take their cues from my wife’s e-mails, perhaps, and invariably respond with paragraph after paragraph of elegant prose. I hoped that that this blog would give me hope for human sexuality in the year 2011. Surprisingly, it has also given me hope for English grammar.
Compared to the literate ladies on this site, Mona is more like a series of tweets. With her a dare is an extended process. She requires clarifications (I know she’s just flirting). She wants to know if she could just strip for me again and skip the sex fantasy part (flirting). She wants to know my real name, wants to know if I went to the glitzy party on Friday, needs to know if I play golf, and if so, at what club (flirting). What Mona wants more than anything is to communicate, and to feel herself at the center of a discussion, preferably one held by strapping men. She is unstructured and anti-grammatical. Her tits destroy all rational thought. She is tapped into a force more powerful than mere intellect, and she knows it. Cocks stand at attention. She could start revolutions, and nobody would know exactly what they were fighting for, and nobody would care. Continue reading Fore/play: Mona’s response to her Sex Fantasy Experiment
I have admittedly been spending a good portion of time fondly recalling images of Mona’s body. Can you blame me? As I wrote when she first approached me: yes, I’ve had several women write in asking for sexual dares, and the results have often been fantastic, but actually knowing the woman has changed the game dramatically (of course I know my wife, but this blog was specifically founded on the idea of inserting more adventure into our lives). There are advantages to this, to put it mildly: I get to see Mona standing naked on a balcony, for instance. Yes, the possibilities are overwhelming, but I’ve also come to realize that if this is going to be anything but a disaster, I’m probably going to have to stay as completely anonymous (and distant) with Mona as I have with my wife. What does that mean? Likely no more balcony scenes anytime soon. I’ll be a good dirty Mr. X and propose adventures from behind a computer screen. I’ll discover my own adventures away from that connection.
So what to do with Mona? She seems eager to do absolutely anything, so I figured I’d start her off with a sex fantasy, as I did one of the first readers who wrote in: Lisa. To my mind that experiment was a big success, not only because of Lisa’s daring, but because it allowed me to see into her fantasy mind and understand what made her tick. And if Mona and I are going to become anonymous friends, that’s a secret understanding I could use. So I wrote her a letter not unlike the one I once wrote Lisa: Continue reading Mona’s Sex Fantasy Experiment