My Daily Miseries and Sex Experiences - Bad Girl

Where are the limits?
One of the questions that I have never been able to get an answer from other people is: where are the limits between 2 persons (wife-husband, girlfriend-boyfriend, sex partners) when it comes to things like privacy and how we let the other see us?

I know what my limits are. But they are not static; they vary depending on who I’m with. I remember when I was still a teenager and one day I was in a motel with my ex-boyfriend and went to pee and left the door open. It was natural. We had just had sex! But he freaked out. What was so disgusting about it, if he had just had his dick inside me? It was ok for him to lick my pussy, but it was not ok for us to pee in front of each other. And I’m talking about somebody who, at the time, I had been dating exclusively for 3 years.

I’m not going to pee in front of a person the first time we have sex. But relationships, even casual or non-committed relationship, evolve. Nobody acts the same in the first date that in the fifth. We get more comfortable with time, start talking more freely, and seize the boundaries. We grow!

Now, there is a stop-point. No matter how close I am with my husband I don’t care for him to see me when I’m waxing my pussy, sitting on the little bench in my bathroom, with one leg on the bathtub and the other on the counter, trying to reach the hairs up in my ass. Or when I cover my face with the brownish mascara that dries and breaks like my skin is falling apart. Oh yeah … the beauty of having to look good.

My limits are dictated by my feelings, I let the other see me if I don’t feel embarrassed by the situation. Now, the other person’s feeling also count; since the day my ex-boyfriend freaked out because I pee with the door open, I didn’t do it anymore. But somehow there is a direct relation between the things you feel free to do in front of somebody and how close your souls are. I feel that with my husband I can do anything, and I mean anything, that he wouldn’t freak out. And again, not that I care for him to see me in some situations. He is the most open and understanding person, when it comes to privacy, that I ever met. That’s one of the reasons we are married!

My best friend, my adventures's mate
I “met” my best friend, and I said “met” this way because really we already knew each other but had never actually put any attention; after I broke up with my ex-boyfriend. Then, he was always around and we became friends, we were single, young and curious and started experimenting.

I remember how it happened. We were in his baseman, having a conversation about music and he was getting closer and closer as we spoke. At some point he tried to kiss me. I was shock, although I saw it coming, it was all written in his man’s face that he was going for it. At the moment I thought it was good and bad. Good because I was ready for some fun, after ending a long, bad relationship; and bad because I didn’t know exactly which were his intentions and we were co-workers. I was not looking for a commitment, I needed some space. My thoughts were occupying too much my mind in that moment and I didn’t go for it. I said something stupid about being late and left.

Our group of friends planned a trip to the beach the following weekend, everybody left Friday after lunch; and he and I had to work late. We agree to share the ride and met and his house after work. He got there first, and then I got there about 6:00 PM and ringed the doorbell. I was ready for some action over the weekend but didn’t expect the reception. He opened the door and I stepped inside, he closed it and pushed me against the wall right there and started kissing me madly. I had a very short sun dress, so he put his hand on my leg and went up very slow, but firm. I couldn’t resist this time. No words were spoken; he undressed me slowly, touching every inch of my body, saying over and over how much he liked my breasts and my butt; and for how long he had fantasized at work seeing me walk back and fort with my small skirts.

We didn’t leave for the beach until midnight. And we even stop on the way, on the side of the road to get some action again. We got to the beach around 7:00 AM, got some breakfast and went to the house. Everybody was there, even the bosses; so our hands were tied for the rest of the weekend. We spent the whole weekend teasing each other with furtive touches and looks across rooms. Even with another 2 female co-workers chasing him around … oh, yes, because he was the hot boy of the office and had almost every woman in love with him.

We never felt in love with each other, and that made us free to experiment sexually without feel any attachments or inhibitions. We had amazing role-playing sex, he is a very creative person and I’m good at going along. All his friends were in our fantasies and we went together to the swinger’s club. And that’s how I got my adventures's mate and my best friend.

Virtual Sex
A long time ago I was one day working very late. About midnight everybody in my floor left so before I went home I made a quick stop in one of my favorite chat rooms, which it was forbidden by policy in the company.

As in every chat conversation, some guy was obsessively asking sex questions, but nobody would answer. Well, you know I’m a sex-addict, so I started talking to the guy. We went into a private chat room and after a while he went into the typical “what are you wearing” and “what color is your panty” and so on. I was wearing a black suit and normal-every-day cotton underwear. You know, the kind you use to go to the office and not in a hot night of sex, but I thought it wouldn’t be fun to say so, so I started telling about my black lace tong, my no-bra wearing policy and my 3 ½ heals.

The guy got really heat-up and amazingly I discover it felt good! I mean good for me that had never had virtual sex. It was just typing and being creative at the begging, more to see the guy’s reaction and his own creativity that for my own pleasure; but we kept doing it for a good half hour and I started to feel heat-up myself.

At the beginning I figure he was probably doing the same, just typing and being a nasty boy, but later, I wasn’t so sure. How could he? And more being a man, he was probably naked in his room, as he stated, whacking out while reading my lines!
Wow, wow wow … it was a different kind of feeling. And more, I wanted to, actually, touch myself and enjoy it too, not just type out of curiosity. But I was at the office and didn’t dare to go any further, so I kept typing until the guy had an orgasm so well described that I could see it with my own eyes; or was, maybe that I was so horny by then? Who knows? I said good bye after that, it was around 1 AM, and went home. I couldn’t wait to get home. I was decided to get on-line and find somebody to do it again. But this time … for ME!

The drive home was a good hour and by the time I got home I was deadly tired and more willing to hit the bed than the computer, so I did. But that night I discover virtual sex. I discover it was actually exciting. I had always had the idea that I would feel nothing and get bored, and had never tried before.
But I was wrong, our minds are a powerful thing and I had lots of hot-computer-nights after that.

Sex and swingers
I went to dinner with some co-workers last night and somehow our conversation went to the big topic: SEX. At some point I commented I had been to a swingers club before. Oh well … one of them was so shocked he left the table, other couldn’t look at my face anymore for the rest of the night.

Why people are so afraid to say what they really think? They wanted to know more but didn’t know how to ask; instead they asked me how that kind of experiences relates to moral. Well, long answer short, I told them moral is something every person can move the line a little. Is like talking about normal or abnormal. Not all of us agree. I’m at peace with my experiences and what I consider moral. Like they were interested in what I think about moral!

After some came and go on the line, I asked myself which ones were their wildest experiences and just one of them admitted that he had had sex with 2 girls. The others refused to say anything that incriminates them. Still one admitted that being married is tough because he *looooooves* women, which it wasn’t a surprise to me, I’m pretty good at judging characters and I didn’t need him saying so. Needless to say, at the end of the night somebody remarked, just in case, that “what happen on the road stays on the road”.

As for my experience in a swinger club … I loved it. It was great. I went with my best friend; we share our vision of pleasure and love, and having such experience together has given us some closeness that it hard to get with any other person.

As a human being I have fantasies and desires as anybody else. As a woman I think I have more than other women. Or at least I’m more willing to admit them. Because I don’t believe there is a woman on this earth that haven’t fantasized once in her life about having sex with 2 guys, having sex with another woman, being a prostitute or having sex for money, or being rape. Not that any of them would want to be a prostitute or be raped, it is just a fantasy!!!

But if denying their own feelings make them feel better … then there you go. I think that comes from the old genes, still present in some women of our generation, when pleasure was something reserved for the men and feminine orgasm wasn’t even a word in their language. So they repress themselves to pleasurable sex and they fake the orgasms instead of working on having a real one by talking about what they like.

A misterious woman
There is a woman at work that always inspires me. I don’t know her; we just exchange “good mornings” and “hellos” along the days, and just a few conversations mostly work-related. But she se seems so nice and sweet.

Her voice is calm and she speaks slowly, but not to slow to make me inpatient. She dresses very well, always with suits and the colors always matching. She usually doesn’t wear any make-up, I saw her just a few times with pink lipstick. But her skin always looks bright and perfect. She is blonde, with this perfect blonde, not to bright, not to dark. And her hair is straight. She used to have long hair, but yesterday I saw she cut it just below her shoulders and it looks great. She has deep blue eyes and white-blonde eyelashes and eyebrows; I think that makes her look younger.

She is always quietly sited at her desk, working. I rarely see her in the kitchen, and when I see her, she is usually getting water. I don’t think she drinks coffee. I have heard her talking to other people and she always seems to know very well what she is talking about. And she is very formal and careful to choose the words. I don’t know why, but every time I see her I want to be like her; be better. I want to learn more about my job. I want to speak that slow and nice. I want to have that sweet voice she has. I want my hair to look perfect, and my clothes and my shoes to match.

She awakes something in me, inspires me. I don’t know anything about her or her personal life. She doesn’t seem the kind of person that talks about herself. But somehow I imagine she has this perfect life, and she lives in a perfect house. And everything in her life is organized. And she is always on time for her appointments.

Funny how some people give me certain impressions. And how I act based on those impressions. I don’t even know if they are real but somehow they are good for me, they make me want to be a better person.

Something about courage
I have always been very adventurous and courageous. That fact brought me many troubles when I was younger. I was never willing to give up on anything I wanted to do or I had set my mind on. And those things weren’t always of my father’s will. Thankfully my mother was always backing me up and encouraging me to do whatever I wanted within certain limits. As she use to say, “I do what my mother did for me.”

When she was young, in the 60’s, she wanted to travel to North America by herself. This is something that seems simple nowadays, but was a big deal for women back then. She had her fights with my grandfather and finally left for North America in 1968. She learned English, got a job in New Jersey, met my father, got married, had a baby, me, and returned with her new family to Argentina in 1972. She has many stories about those times. I have heard those stories since I was a little girl. They inspired me and I dreamt to grow up and make my own journey. I wanted to have my own stories to tell to my children one day.

My mother has always encouraged me and my sisters to follow our dreams, to find our way and meanings on life. She is not a feminist but she just believes in equality and having the same opportunities that everybody else has. She has taught us to act responsibly, but freely in the search of our destiny.

In early 1998, I decided to move to Brazil. I packed a few clothes and a lot of pictures and arrived in Sao Paulo with nothing more than a lot of courage. It was hard and the toughest times of my life. I needed a place to live and I needed to learn the language in order to get a job. I made it and in a year I was working as a Software Consultant and traveling all over Brazil. After two years I didn’t feel like I had reached the bottom of my dreams; I didn’t feel I had all the stories I wanted, so in November of 1999 I packed again my same old clothes and pictures, and maybe a few more pictures, and came to North America; I was at last at the country of my mother’s stories and at my country too: after all I was born in New Jersey.

I went to New Jersey to see the city that I have seen on pictures so many times and I went to New York and Boston, all cities that my parents visited when they were in America. I took my own pictures of the old places. Then I got a job, met my husband, got married and … here I am. I’ve walked my mother’s story, or at least most part of it. My husband and I are planning on having a baby soon. And I am already rehearsing the stories I’m going to tell them, and looking at the pictures I’m going to show them.

I’m proud of the women of my family, of my mother, of my grandmother and I’m lucky because they understand the need of finding our own stories, they understand the meaning of supporting and encouraging our dreams. I hope I have a girl to continue the story.