Making the world a calmer, happier place, one orgasm at a time.



Closing the Vortex

Vortex Boy,

The thing is, I’m trying to distract myself from Lionel.  I need something other than him to think about when I touch myself.  But his moves were so masterful, its hard not to got there, to that memory, which is now nothing more than fantasy.

I’ve reached my tolerance limit with Lionel and don’t want him “in” my bedroom any more.

New imagery to bring me to climax, new juice.  I had thought that you might quench my thirst.


This is my account of you and I over the last few months.

Mid July – I drove home from the east coast determined to break the Lionel spell, determined to take a lover, which I hadn’t done in a LONG time.

One Week Later – I found him, Mr California, AKA Cristoph.  He was only in town for a week, which made him more appealing. That, and other circumstances told me he wasn’t looking for a girlfriend. Perfect.  I’d met him a few times before.  Conversation was easy. He was hitting on me and I rolled with it, determined to break The Fucking Lionel Spell.

We had sex for days. He was a good lover, with one glaring flaw.

….. Sure, he’d heard of the Clit, but he had no idea where it was.

No idea.

I met your friend (Zane, was it?) about five minutes after one of these romps.  I remember being a bit self conscious, not wanting to give him the wrong vibe, since I was quite literally, oozing with sex.

A Few Days Later  – Zane introduced you and I at the health food store.   My impression was that you weren’t interested meeting me (not a sexual thing, just that you didn’t seem interested in meeting me in general)

A Few Weeks Later – Mid August
At the brewery you said “Kess!!!”, as if we were old friends. I said “Hey!” back, and rolled with the big hug you gave me, and the friendly conversation.

I had no idea who you were.

I went to watch the band from the side so I could smoke and listen. You walked over, making eye contact, smiling and wanting some of my spliff. Cool.

We hung out, talking for quite awhile.  I was super tired from drinking beer all day, but I eventually figured out who you were and how I knew you.

You suggested I come see your place. Your growing operation.

It seemed you were hitting on me, which made me a little nervous, not only because Mr California was coming back in a few weeks. But, because I thought ‘I could fuck this guy’.

This is highly unusual for me. In my eyes, 99.9% of all men are un-fuckable.

When I meet someone who is fuckable, I’m surprised.

Fucking two guys in the same time frame doesn’t work for me, so I decided to stick with Mr California because it was easiest to roll with the familiar, AND most importantly, the guy who I was certain didn’t want a girlfriend and won’t be showing up at my door.

I could school him on the Clit.

Sounds harsh, but I truly don’t want a boyfriend.  Though, I’d like everything else that goes along with that. Connection, chemistry, respect for one another, and lots of delicious sex.  I want exclusivity as well, just without the traditional catches.

I’m a one-guy-at-a-time kinda girl.

My lover rule is this: While we are fucking it’s exclusive.  Unlike a boyfriend/girlfriend situation, you can fuck anyone you want, any time (without my being upset about it, or your being upset about it, if I take a lover) but if you take another lover, you can’t fuck me afterwards. Or maybe ever again.

The fucking of another, ends the fucking of each other.

Does make sense? Great sex, exclusively with each other, but only while it works.

Anyway, there you were making suggestions for us to get together.  I don’t know why I said “next time we run into each other we can exchange info”, rather than doing it then. I was tired, those microbrews are strong and I’d started the day at 1:00 with tequila, then moved on to the beer fest.

But before I left you said “why don’t you just give me your number now”.

FYI when you act really excited to see someone, say their name, strike up a conversation for the second time in one evening, repeatedly invite her over, make suggestions for future plans…..and insist on her number….. it tells a girl you’re interested …. in case you didn’t know.

When I got home, I realized I’d given you the ‘no’ vibe. I hadn’t meant to do.  But I hadn’t fully decided ‘yes’ yet either. I guess I’m not good with that gray zone. It’s easier to ‘say’ no than to mislead someone.

I texted you the following week.  I was heading in your direction for flooring; I could stop in.

No reply.
NO Vibe

One Month Later – Mid September:
I text you, instead of my x-boyfriend (who has the same first name and same last initial), about CDs.

You replied with an invite to your place.
YES Vibe

We made a plan.
I came over.
You meet me in the driveway, cool. YES Vibe

You high-fived me when I pulled up,
Hmmm? Vibe

I hugged you when I got out of the car. It was weak, not a hug from someone who wants to fuck you. NO Vibe

Okay, I can roll with that. Fucking is not required, new friends can be good.  In hindsight though, I think it put me in a space of being overly self-conscious, I didn’t want to be flirty with someone who isn’t interested, yet I didn’t want to give you the no vibe again if I was reading the whole thing wrong.

You took me on the tour. I loved tromping around in the dark, especially the greenhouse with fig tree. The tour ended back at my car and I thought ‘okay, well, I read that wrong’ but then you kept walking up to your yurt. YES Vibe

You offered me a beer.  YES Vibe

We hung out and talked, looked at the stars. It was nice, but I wasn’t getting THE Vibe.

Then you asked me about my plans for the weekend, said we should hang out again soon. Go get a beer, listen to some music…..  YES Vibe, but I wasn’t paying attention.

On the way home, while reflecting on our visit, I realized that I hadn’t given you the yes vibe when you were trying to initiate our next meeting.

So, I texted you that night because I wanted to remember the funny thing you had said (“Verbal judo for combating conversation hogs”) and to give you the YES Vibe.

You replied, and followed up with saying you’d had fun and “let’s do it again soon”.  I made sure to say YES definitively.  YES Vibe

Two Days Later – Saturday
Since you had mentioned us getting together again, twice, and I failed to give you the yes vibe both times, I decided to invited you to watch my friend Deb play.

We talked about the details, but you never said yes or no.  At the end of the day you texted  that you were in the canyon for the night, but did I want to get coffee in the morning?


Late Afternoon you texted that you were in the vortex…. and gave a vague “let’s hang at some point” reply. NO Vibe.

I’ve no time for the YoYo. I let it go.  Let you go, done.  Time to find a more attentive lover.

Two Weeks LaterSaturday:
YOU texted me, asking if I wanted to party with you.

I replied “you know I do”. Thought we were getting somewhere. YES Vibe

An hour before the party you canceled, because your folks had arrived unexpectedly.   You asked if I had time later in the week.


I was sorry not to party with you, but it wasn’t the best night for me either, so later in the week seemed great. Still a YES Vibe, but raises my hackles a bit, because it sounds like bullshit

I texted you. Come join me for a fire out back.

You called me “celestial being”, then yoyo-ed, then vortexed;l followed by another vague “drop in sometime this weekend”. NO Vibe.

I told you that celestial beings didn’t crash other people’s vortexes.  (Hoping that you’d catch my drift, that I wasn’t going to show up, like some school girl with a crush. You’re not THAT fuckable!)

You called and invited me to meet you at Fahrenheit, but when I replied a short while later you’d go the way of the vortex.  In your message you’d also given me a solid invitation up to your place that Sunday.  You said you DID want to party with me. YES Vibe.

I came over. We hung out. Your hug hello improved some. We had a nice time. I enjoyed your friends. You’re right Kevin is awesome. At the end of the night we walked back to your yurt.  I wanted to spend the night in there, ravaging you, but I didn’t get that vibe at all, so I went home. NO Vibe

YOU texted me. You were driving through, could stop by if I wanted.  We hung out, had a nice time. No real vibe, no big chemistry, but some how you were still fuckable.

Now, don’t go getting yourself too inflated about this being fuckable business, but it is highly unusual for me.  AND you were a good candidate because you’re leaving town soon, and didn’t seem to be looking for a girlfriend, which is why I put up with the YoYo.

I had just told my X-beau that there was only one fuckable guy in Mancos, and that was his best friend, so yeah, I was basically screwed – or not!

SO, you came over. We hung out, smoked some weed, I massaged you for awhile. I wanted to see if there was any chemistry if we were actually touching.

You had to go.

That night I texted you about my blog, no reply.

I texted you about needing weed

I came over, got some herb. We hung out, drank tequila, smoked herb, and laughed a lot.  You enquired about my plans as if you wanted to make some plans.

When we were walking back towards my car, I put my arm through yours. I figured it was a yes vibe, but not a come-on, something I would do freely with any friend.

I was surprised when you pulled your arm out from mine and put it around me instead. You worked on warming me up, very sweet.

At the car there was another hug, but nothing that said yes. NO Vibe

As I was driving away I had an overwhelming urge to turn around. Crawl into bed with you.  But alas, I am a coward; not wanting to play the fool.

I invited you to hang out with me in the cottage.  You YoYoed.

I decided that enough was enough.

YOU texted saying “I do wanna party…thanks for the invite 🙂 ”

11pm I was just leaving the brewery, and was a little shit-housed, and texted

Good, pony up mofo 😉

8am Sunday
Sheeeit…that makes my pussy hurt

Mine too

Down to parte…will make it happen…just gotta pad up

Aww, no need for padding. I’ll be gentle with you… if you’ll be rough with me 😉

Damn girl…gotta get through my first cup of joe know where to find me

Ha! I’m not that forward though, so you’ll have to find me and take me to the party

….no reply.

We texted about flooring

You texted about weather
Later you rescheduled flooring

You come over and tell me something, which I can’t remember now. You were spewing some bull “that’s what I meant about ‘you know where to find me’”

Yeah, okay

We did the floor.
You inquired about my weekend plans.
You had to go.
A girl you’ve been spending time with was coming down for the weekend.  “We’re going to do it”


I’m glad to know, but this was your best way of telling me?

When you drinking tequila and smoke weed with a girl all night on a Thursday, and then Saturday tell her you DO want to party with her, it implies that your interested in more than tequila a weed.  So, what kind of party were you talking about?

This is a small town, and if we’re going to be friends, or at least on truly friendly terms, then you need to hear all this.  And I need to say it.  You’ll find the only time I’m not straight up is when I’m flustered as to whether or not someone is interested in me; then I’m flustered.

Now I’m not flustered, since you’re no longer fuckable.

You must be aware of what you’re doing; which is uncool.

I mean really, what else were you referring to with “I want to party with you”?  Please.

On the off chance you’re oblivious, then I’m here, as your friend, to tell you to Wake the Fuck Up

Want a Bigger Dick?

This is FREE penis enlargement advise.

There is no product.

No contraption to suck and pull yourself to a longer weenie.

No matter your size, she’ll remember your dick twice as big, if you’re touching her Clit at the same time.

If you neglect the Clit, she’ll remember it as twice as small.

Simple, FREE and effective.

I PROMISE you, she cares WAY more about you touching her Clit than she does about the size of your dick.

Step One, First Ya Gotta Find it

It’s only a mystery if you rush.

It’s easy to find.

The Clitoris has NO hair.

It is not shiny since it has no moisture of its own.

The clitoris is covered by a hood, which makes it possible to touch.

     Okay, well yes, the clitoris itself (under the hood) is shiny, but you don’t want to touch that. 

The Clit under the hood, is way too sensitive and does NOT create pleasure. Always touch the clit via the clitoral hood.

The Clit has NO hair.  It is not shiny.

There is only one spot in this region with both of these qualities, and that is the Clit.

There will be hair covering her Clit, just not growing from the Clit itself.

Part her hair while her legs are closed.

The clit is way up top and is accessible with her legs still closed.  Brush her hair to the side, and find the bald spot.

Now that you’ve found it, touch it.

Be firm, but be gentle.  Sending her flying off the bed is not what your looking for.  An orgasm looks more like intense muscle contraction, not her ‘hitting the ceiling’ because you’re going too fast.

Okay, touch it.  Firm and gentle, until you know what makes her contract, moan and eventually explode.  Pay attention to how she’s reacting.

The Clit in the picture here is colored blue, so you can get an idea where this little treasure hides.

Whatta Man

“Yes, my man says he loves me, never says he loves me not
Tryin’ to rush me good and touch me in the right spot
See other guys that I’ve had, they tried to play all that mac shit
But every time they tried I said, “That’s not it”
But not this man, he’s got the right potion
Baby, rub it down and make it smooth like lotion
Yeah, the ritual, highway to heaven
From seven to seven he’s got me open like Seven Eleven…”

                                                          Salt ‘N Pepa, Whatta Man

That’s not it …………. meaning the men she’s usually with don’t know where the Clit is, but this guy knows how to “rub it down, make is smooth like lotion”.  If you want your girl open like Seven Eleven for you learn the ritual, the highway to heaven

Watch the video, what do you think? Does she look like she knows what she’s talking about?  She says this guy gives her REAL loving…… 

“My man gives real loving that’s why I call him Killer
He’s not a wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am, he’s a thriller
He takes his time and does everything right
Knocks me out with one shot for the rest of the night”

And in return she gives him some memorable shit.  So guys, if you’re not making her cum, she’s going to be way less motivated to choke on your dick.  Just making her cum – for real – will make you feel like a man, never mind what she’ll do to show her appreciation.

“So I give him stuff that he’ll never forget
He keeps me on Cloud Nine”

Featured image

The Bald Spot, Uncovering the Little Jewel

Last night I found myself in a room full of marijuana.  A bud trimming party.  A typical Colorado fall scenario, everyone hanging out, laughing with their sticky fingers.

It was just Vortex Boy and myself at this point in the night.  I asked him how to go about trimming the small buds that were left in my pile, and held up a skinny bud that was about an 1 ¼ ” long, skinny, and a bit curved.  It reminded me of the anatomical drawings of the clitoris.

He took the bud from me, held it up, admired it.

His scissors flashed about, exposing the pretty little bud that was hidden under the leaves.  The Edward Scissorhands, of weed.

“You’ve got to uncover the little jewel” he said as he lifted it to his nose.  As he inhaled its odor, he exhaled a long moan.  A primal grunt.

I imagined him gently brushing away my hair , revealing my little jewel.

I wanted to drag him – by his hair – back to his fucking yurt, and give him the throw down.

………….but was it worth the risk?  Does he know where the Clit was?  Did he know how to touch it?  What if I make a move and get rejected, all for someone who doesn’t even know where it is?  Hmmm  I think I’ll need to develop a questionnaire.

What kind of questions could a girl ask, without being insanely forward, to find out if a guy knows what’s what?

Who is Kess Jones?

I’m Kess Jones and after years of holding out for the celibate love-of-my-life to change his mind, I decided to take a lover.

I’ve been thinking about doing this for a long time, but the right subject never showed himself, and Lionel’s hold on me was still strong.  BUT, this July I drove back east and confronted Lionel, all the while texting my BFF “you have make me fuck someone when I get back.”  She replied “okay” but I knew she was shaking her head because I’m picky and find almost no one attractive.

Plus, I want to actually connect with someone before having sex with them.  The sex is better that way, but how do you connect without the whole ‘relationship’ thing coming up.  I don’t want a boyfriend, and I don’t want meaningless bar sex where an STD is more likely than an orgasm.

Two weeks after returning from the northeast Christoph surfaced. He’s a friend of a friend, in the middle of a divorce, lives hundreds of miles away in California, and was going back home at the end of the week.  Perfect.

I’m not looking for a boyfriend, just a lover.

I watched his fingers as he played the guitar, and thought if he can play me with that same attention to detail, I’ll be in heaven.

He was flirting with me, or so I thought, I’m so out of practice it was awkward at first. I doubted he was interested in  me….  maybe he’s just a super nice guy talking to – what he sees – as some old lady.  Maybe the idea of flirting was so far off of his radar it never even crossed his mind…. Ahh, insecurity.

On the way out of the door one evening he grabbed my arm  “Do you want to stay here tonight” he asked

I did want that; yes please.

His touch was fantastic, he whispered sweet things, he told me my ass was perfect – who doesn’t love to hear that? He was just what I needed except for one small problem………  this grown-ass man didn’t know where the clit was!

On our third and last night together, I begged him “Please touch my clit”

…. nothing changed.

After a while, and after I’d given up hope, he said “is that it?”

“Is that what?”

“Your clit”

I laughed.

I felt bad about it before the all air had left my lungs, but was he serious? He was about three inches south of the destination.

What a waste, an otherwise fabulous lover, clueless.

I desperately want to school him, but he wasn’t the best student.  Since that ship has sailed I’ll school everyone instead.  Making the world a calmer, happier place, one orgasm at a time. 😉

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