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10 Best Things About Being Single And Living Alone

Posted by Rachel Hangover in sex

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Ahhh, February.  The shittiest, and thank God, shortest month of the year.  And to make this horrid month even more heinous, the assholes in charge dropped the worst excuse for a holiday right smack dab in the middle of it.  I hate Valentine’s Day.  Even when I was in a relationship with a man I was actually in love with, we both knew this ‘holiday’ was bullshit.  Instead of going out or exchanging stupid gifts, we would light every candle in our home, eat a bunch of magic mushrooms, drink red wine, and make love and fuck for hours.  We refused to ever give money to the bullshit corporations that feed off the lonely and insecure.

Now that I’m single, Valentine’s Day is only a minor annoyance, since I usually have to bartend on that day and plaster on a smile for the couples who are faking it even worse than I am.   But at least I get to go home and get off with someone who knows exactly what they’re doing (myself).  And I get to go to my favorite place in the whole world: my tiny studio apartment in Venice Beach.  That’s mine; my sanctuary; the only place I get to be fully ME.  So in honor of this fake corporate money scam holiday, and the absolute joy of being alone this February 14th, here are


10)  MY SPACE IS MY SPACE – My apartment looks like the color purple exploded all over it.  It’s decorated with a mixture of classic vintage pieces, punk rock pieces, and 80’s/90’s nostalgia.  Why?  Because all of those things make ME happy.  Gone are the days of staring at my ex’s ugly baseball painting.  Or that horrific chair he was obsessed with.  My space is mine completely and filed with things that bring me specific joy.  And that’s fucking delightful.

9)  BED ALL TO MY DAMN SELF – Holy fuck I love my bed.  Bed bed bed bed.  My bed is the most expensive thing I’ve ever bought myself and that includes cars I’ve owned.  And unless I choose to, I don’t have to share it with anyone.  No fighting over blankets.  No encroaching on my side (or arguing about sides).  No debates over the fan on or off or when lights out happen.  No getting kicked or whacked in the middle of the night.  No SNORING!!!  Just sleep whenever the fuck I want and for however long I want.  Which brings us to….

8) SLOTH- I can stay in my exquisite bed all goddamned day if I want to!  No one is even going to know, let alone judge me.  I can nap eight fucking times a day if I feel like it.  I can eat in bed.  I can do my taxes in bed.  I can write this fucking blog in bed which is exactly what the fuck I’m doing right now.  Being single means you get to be a lazy as you want to be.  And laziness is so gorgeous.

7) INDULGING IN DEPRESSION- While we’re on the topic of staying in bed all day, occasionally that goes hand in hand with depression.  Maybe not like clinical-you-need-therapy-or-meds depression but like the old melancholy-and-the-infinite-sadness.  You can wallow in it if you so feel like it.  You can listen to old Cranberries tunes and cry it out.  No one is there worrying about you or trying to cheer you up.  As a very depressive but also very creative person, I sometimes relish my dark moods.  A lot of creative energy comes from the sadness as much as the joy.  Being able to Just Be Sad is a fucking gift.

6) BEING A WEIRDO OR HERMIT-  It’s not just about staying in bed all damn day if I want to; it’s also about not having to leave the house for days if I don’t feel like it.  I can hole up and watch 36 uninterrupted hours of Netflix if I choose.  Or I can have an 80’s dance party in my underwear by myself.  I can work on my weird art projects or talk to myself or make up corny songs or do the billion other things that I secretly love to do that I’d be mortified if anyone ever found out.  And I can do all of it whilst I’m

5) BEING BUTT NAKED- When you are single and live alone, your nudity is your prerogative.  And I personally love being naked.  Fuck clothes!  Adios pantalones!  I love waking around my apartment naked.  I sleep naked.  I cook naked.  (Watch out for grease splatters!)  I work out naked.  I do just about everything naked because no one is around to judge my body.  I don’t have to look sexy or suck in my belly.  I can revel in my pale, cellulite and stretch mark ridden glory.  I am ready for my own jelly and I love every inch of it.

4) SEXUAL INDEPENDENCE (aka)  FUCKING WHOEVER YOU WANT WHENEVER YOU WANT – I mean, this is pretty self explanatory.  I’ve been deeply, deeply in love before.  But that sure as shit didn’t stop me from wanting to fuck other people.  Monogamy is so grossly overrated.  In fact most of my relationships end right around the two and a half year mark because I get an itch that only someone new can scratch.  Singledom means fringledom.  Ooops I mean freedom.  You can have as much (or as little) sex as you want.   You can have threesomes or eightsomes or whatever without worrying about jealousy or other pesky bullshit feelings.  And you can masturbate all day day to whatever weird porn you’re into.  You can leave all your weird sex toys all over your place if you so feel like it.  Your partners and your pleasures are entirely up to you.  Being your own sexual boss is legit.

3) GLUTTONY- Just like sex, food brings me great pleasure and it’s so so lovely to not have to have a fucking powwow before every meal.  Half hour conversations about where or what WE are going to eat are so tiresome.  My most recent ex hated the smell of broccoli so I as not allowed to cook or eat broccoli in his presence.  Fuck that shit.  Now I can eat whatever the fuck I want and whatever amount I want whenever the fuck I want.  Girl scout cookies for breakfast?  Fuck yeah!  If I’m on my period and I want to eat an entire box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch, there is no one to stop me or judge me.  Ain’t no one gonna eat my leftovers.  And if I wanna eat some weird shit like putting sriracha on a tortilla and taking it straight to the face well then I can and I WILL!  Gordita feliz all day errrrrry day muthafukkas!!!  Which brings us to…

2) BEING A DISGUSTING PIG- you wanna pig out?  Do it.  Don’t feel like doing the dishes?  Don’t.  Don’t feel like cleaning?  You never have to unless you want to.  You wanna pick your nose or pick your wedgie?  Fucking go for it.  You can be as utterly disgusting as you want.  Ain’t nobody’s biz.  And while you’re at it your nasty ass can be

1)  FARTING up a storm.  Farting is vastly underrated.  Farting is actually delightful.  When I was in a relationship, I tried my best to Keep Things Nice.  In the mornings I’d creep into the bathroom and try to fart as quietly as possible.  But now, I can just let er rip.  I can blow ass like a trumpet if I feel like it.  I don’t gotta be ladylike.  Fuck being demure.  I can exorcize those butt demons whenever I want.  And what a release.  What freedom.  And really, that’s what it’s all about.  Love is great.  But freedom and self love are pretty fucking great too.


Happy Valentine’s Day, ya filthy animals.

I Ain’t Afraid of No GHOSTS

Posted by Rachel Hangover in advice, awkward moments, pussy contract, sex


Just in time for Halloween, today we are going to talk about that spooky phenomenon that has been the bitter taste on the tip of everyone’s tongue lately: GHOSTING.  You know what I’m referring to: you meet a guy, you hit it off, you go out maybe once or twice. Maybe you sleep with him, maybe you don’t. You think things are going well and then all out of sudden, he’s nowhere to be found. You try to text/call = radio silence. It’s like he’s disappeared into thin air. He’s vanished and all you have left is the memory of what could have been, haunting you. You’ve been ghosted and it fucking sucks.

It happens to everyone. It’s even happened to me and I know for a FACT I’m Totally Awesome. So instead of screaming “WHY?!?!?!” (it’s simple) and “MEN ARE THE WORST!!!!!” (well, that might be true) let’s go over some inconvenient truths.  The reason why you were ghosted is because He’s Just Not That Into You. It doesn’t matter how deep a connection you felt or how great a time you thought y’all were having. He’s just not that into you. If you call him out, he may give you some excuse like work has been crazy, or he’s dealing with some family shit, or he just needs time to figure out what he wants. Those things may all be true. But what he doesn’t want is you.

The fact of the matter is, men who love someone and want to be with that person, will do everything in their power to make that happen. If he’s not putting in the effort, he just doesn’t care. And he doesn’t really want to explain to you why you’re not the one.  He probably doesn’t even know why. He’s just not feeling it, and he wants to avoid an awkward or potentially painful conversation. So he just peaces out and leaves you wondering if you did something wrong. You didn’t. You’re fine. You’re lovely in fact.

Which brings me to my second point. Ghosting is lazy. It’s tacky. It’s rude and inconsiderate. It is not how a gentleman behaves. So why in the fuck would you want to be with someone who is not a gentleman and doesn’t want to be with you?? Never spend any time or energy on someone who doesn’t spend the same on you. Stop worrying about why it happened or whining about the fact it happened it all and move the fuck on. In the immortal words of two chill dudes named Wayne and Garth: “Get over it.  Go out with someone else.” Put your big girl panties on — hell, even go out and buy sexy new ones — and get to swiping, girl.

Because the unfortunate thing is that it looks like ghosting is here to stay. In a world where we can order up a person on an app and find out everything we need to know about someone online without actually having to get to know them, we just don’t need to waste time on someone who isn’t right. There are just too many other options. So explore those other options immediately. There are good guys out there. You’ll find one.  (You’re gonna need some extra luck and patience if you live in Los Angeles.  Godspeed.)

P.S.  The guy who ghosted you might try down the line to get back in your life. Suddenly he’s back from the dead.That’s when a ghost becomes a zombie.  And we all know what to do with zombies: aim for the head and destroy that motherfucker before he fucks your shit up or infects your friends. Happy Halloween, my Depraved Ones.  Do your tricks and get your treats.


Rule #64: Suck Harder

Posted by The Girl's Guide to Depravity in advice, blowjobs, sex


They say blowjobs are like pizza, even if they’re bad, they’re still good. But “they” have never gagged on an errant hair and ended up puking all over their partner.  Besides, why settle for giving a “good” blowjob when you can give a fucking fantastic one?

I usually hate giving BJ tips because it’s all subjective. What makes one guy shoot off like a rocket may leave another guy with failure to launch. However, there are a few things that will make any guy fall to his knees … in order to return the favor with some head for you! Because isn’t that really what it’s all about?

1) Fucking ENTHUSIASM! Go to town like a diabetic with a lolly and no matter how much teeth you accidentally use, you’ll still be a champ. There’s no bigger turn off than a girl who’s choking on a dick every five seconds. Except for a girl who refuses to choke on a dick at all.

2) Not every guy likes a finger up the ass, but they all like a little pressure above their treasure trail. Press down with an open palm just above the dick, make eye contact (if their eyes are even still open then) and slurp away.

3) Take your time! I know, ugh, it’s already hard work, why would you want to make it last ten minutes when you could make him cum in ten seconds? But most guys like to savor a bj, cuz they never know when they’ll get one again.

Happy blowing!

P.S. I’m A Squirter

Posted by The Girl's Guide to Depravity in awkward moments, sex


Way before I realized that there are literally over a million porn videos dedicated to the elusive female ejaculator, I was a confused middle-schooler who thought she was pissing her NKOTB sheets when she decided to explore her lady parts with the business end of an electric toothbrush for the first time.

Now, I’m not exactly known for having a strong bladder. Just ask the bike cop who busted me for Molly at a Groove Armada show. He had to throw those urine soaked shoes away and pedal barefoot the rest of the night. At least I assume he did, I don’t know, I was too busy grabbing my ankles and coughing in jail. Point is, it wasn’t crazy for me to assume in the pre-youporn days that I was giving myself a golden shower every time I had an orgasm.

Cut to my first sexual experience. I was so afraid of peeing all over my v-card puncher that I barely opened my legs. Finding out from my older, dangerous cousin who had already been in 3 rehabs at 19 that it was actually something called FEMALE EJACULATION didn’t make me any more relaxed. Like, what guy would want something like that to happen on him?

Turns out, EVERY GUY.

As I got more comfortable exploring my sexuality (and half the guys on my study abroad program) I started being upfront about my ability to get wet and wild while getting it on. When the clothes came off and the condom came on, I’d whisper “P.S., I’m a squirter.” They fucking loved it. They couldn’t get enough of my squirting. It’s not like you can fake an orgasm like that. Having sex with me was like buying a season pass to Raging Waters, but with less dirty diapers on the ground.

It was great for a while, but then the pressure started to get to me. I couldn’t perform every single time. With one guy, to whom I confessed my sitch early on, I couldn’t perform at all. He tried so hard that I started to feel bad for him. Then I started to feel bad for myself. Oral is no longer fun after an hour of rug munching. One night, after I had a little too much to drink, I just wanted it to end. So as soon as he put his finger inside me, I just let go.

Unfortunately, I let go of my bladder and peed all over him for reals. To this day, he still says it was the most intense orgasm he ever witnessed.

The Morning After

Posted by Rachel Hangover in awkward moments, sex, Uncategorized

HangoverUgh.  That feel when you wake up and you know you shouldn’t have kissed him last night but you did.  And it’s done now and you can’t undo it.  And who knows if you even want to.  Who knows anything?  What the fuck WAS that?

The fact of the matter is you wanted him to stay.  Even though you were the one who pulled away and said it was weird and incestuous, you wanted him to stay.  And maybe it’s just because it’s December, and you both just really needed someone to snuggle and make out with.  And maybe it’s just because it felt so nice to snuggle and love on someone you actually give a fuck about.  Someone whose opinion matters to you.  Someone who roots for you and who – oh, goddamnit – makes you better.  Maybe it was just really nice to spend some time with someone who is more intelligent than you.

And maybe it IS weird and incestuous.  But who really cares if you hooked up with his brother?  That was years ago and you don’t feel anything for him anymore other than loving the fuck out of that whole family.  And who cares that he’s hooked up with more than one of your friends?  That’s what happens when you know someone for over ten years.  Maybe it’s not weird at all and you’re making a bigger deal out of it than you need to.  You are DEFINITELY over thinking it, like you always do, but you can’t help it because the contact solution and lens case that you got out for him last night are staring you in the face, forcing you to be honest with yourself:  You tried to get him to stay.  You really wanted him to stay.  But he didn’t because he’s more intelligent than you.

And you just feel weird because you don’t know what, if anything, you want from him.  All you know is that you want to create art with him and even though one of your best friends thinks you should also create babies with him, you don’t know if you want that ever and it’s all just very confusing.  So it goes.  It is what it is.  And you must remember this: a kiss is just a kiss.  And it’s been a long December.  Maybe this year will be better than the last.  The feeling that it’s all a lot of oysters but no pearls.  And the days go by so fast.  Who knows anything?  Snuggles and kisses are just the best, so no regrets.

Fuck Your Rockstar

Posted by Rachel Hangover in sex

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So, my rockstar was in town for a spell. Holy Mother Fuck, it has been so fucking lovely; it’s been so lovely fucking. I encountered this particular rockstar for the first time over three years ago. He sang me a song looking deep into my eyes. I fell desperately in lust. Later, smoking a cigarette together, I was drunk enough to tell him: “Your voice is so beautiful; I get emotional every time I hear you sing.” He replied: “Aww, well aren’t you just a little sweetheart. Do you wanna come back to my place and get in my hot tub with me?” Obviously my response was an enthusiastic YES.

So that pretty much ended my relationship with the guy I had been living with for two years. And that was hard and it really sucked. But it is a decision I do not regret. However, a few weeks later, my rockstar promptly moved the fuck to New York City. Now it is three years later, and my rockstar texted me to tell me he’s back in town for a bit, and I should come over. I was offended; how dare he think he can just hit me up three years later and I would just come running. I told him I was busy fucking someone else. At first he told me to have fun, but then continued to beg me to come over anyway. So the next night, I went running over to his place. FUCK YES.

The thing is, he’s THAT GUY. It’s not just the great sex. It’s that he feeds me whiskey, cigarettes, and cocaine. He sings me songs. His voice sounds like the angels fell from heaven and are having a drunken orgy on your eardrums. His band is the tits. He introduces me to the coolest of the cool. His house is ridiculous. We go running naked back and forth from his hot tub to his enormous pool. We make love in the moonlight. And then we fuck all night in his big fluffy white bed. He eats pussy like it’s his calling. Oh, and he has a goddamned PUPPY for chrissake.

And I know I’m not the only chick he’s fucking. I don’t care. He’s hooked up with two of my friends, that I know about. I don’t care. He has dozens of model chicks and actress bitches at his disposal. I don’t care. He texts me at four in the morning. I don’t care. If I text him, he rarely texts back. I don’t care. He still has a pair of my earrings that I will never ever see again. I don’t care. All of my friends think he is a total dick. I don’t care. And in fact, his dickishness is exactly what I love about him. He doesn’t give a fuck about me other than to fuck me, and it’s amazing. He will choke me, spank me, pull my hair, and I fucking love it. He will also be sweet and romantic and tell me all sorts of things he won’t remember in the morning and I don’t fucking care.

Lots of girls get bent out of shape over dudes like this. Who don’t ‘respect’ them, who ‘treat them bad’, but keep sending them late night texts. And to this I say: Fuck It.
Who cares? Chances are he is not disrespecting you or trying to treat you poorly. He’s just not thinking about you at all, unless he wants you to come over right that instant. And I say, go over right that instant. When it’s good, it’s good, and when it’s great, it’s great. And don’t fucking worry about it. Get it while the getting is good and you will always have the memories of all those times you fucked that fucking rockstar and how much fucking fun you had.

He’s back in New York now. I might never see him again. Or maybe, in a few weeks, or a few months, or a few years, I might get a text thats says: hey its me come over. And I will fucking go. Because I love fucking him and I always will and I don’t give one single fuck about anything else. So go do it. Fuck your fucking rockstar. It’s worth it; I promise.

Just don’t leave anything at his house.

News Flash: Dudes Have Feelings Too

Posted by Rachel Hangover in depraved guy, men, sex

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Crazy talk, right?  I know, I know. We ladies are so used to sexism, so used to the idea that men are just trying to fuck us, that we don’t realize that sometimes we act just like them. But it turns out that boys have feelings, and they can get hurt, just as bad as ours.

This all came to my attention because of a recent blog I posted entitled “Know the Difference Between Fuckable vs. Dateable”. In this blog, I referred to certain types of men as ‘Human Dildos’. Now, I still think that’s funny; just like I think referring to certain females as ‘Cum Dumpsters’ is funny. But it’s not so funny when you are on the receiving end of such a reference.

Dudes catch feelings for the girls they are banging just like girls. Maybe not as often, but maybe that is just what we are conditioned to think as a society. We are told to protect our daughters; that men only think with their dicks; that women are weak and emotional and men are strong and stoic. Well, guess what? That’s a lot of bullshit. Women can be douchebags, too. And men can be total sweethearts who just want love. And both genders can be trifilin’ hoes.

Now we here at The Girl’s Guide to Depravity like to make a lot of rules. But the most important thing to remember in love and war and dating and fucking is the most important rule of all: treat others as you would like to be treated. Be honest. Be real. Don’t hurt other people lest you hurt yourself. Don’t treat a good man like a dick because you wouldn’t want a man to treat you like a cunt. Keep it sexy, keep it safe, keep it classy… but also keep it kind.

Rule #60: Know The Difference Between FUCKABLE vs DATEABLE

Posted by Rachel Hangover in sex

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Not all Goslings are created equal.

Not all Goslings are created equal.

Ladies, ladies, ladies.  It is time for us, as women, to figure out something that men have known forever: just because someone isn’t your ideal mate doesn’t mean you shouldn’t fuck his brains out whenever you want to.  You just need to differentiate between who is worthy of your time, energy, love, and commitment, and who is worthy of just your pussy.  I’ve seen so many of my girlfriends get their hearts broken because they didn’t know this very simple rule.

Now, while everyone is different, the main thing to think about is the criteria you need met.  For me personally, if a dude is dateable he must meet all of the following criteria:

1.  He is attractive and leads a healthy lifestyle

2.  He has a good job where he is successful or making the world a better place

3.  He has a good relationship with his family/friends and compatibility with mine

4.  He’s smart, funny, compassionate and shares my political, social, and spiritual views.

For a guy to be fuckable, he has to meet the following criteria:

1.  He’s hot

2.  His dick works.

(And in fact, I can be lenient with the second one.  I was “fucking” a little rockstar at one point whose nasty little coke problem made it impossible for him to get it up no matter how hard we both tried.  However, his enthusiasm and skill when it came to cunnilingus made that a moot point.   *sigh*  I miss that guy.)

So many women are out looking for The Perfect Man, that they blow off a perfectly good Fuckable Man.  They are pining away, waiting for an imaginary ideal, using up the batteries in their vibrators, dreaming of Mr. Right when they could be getting their ass pounded to the wall by Mr. Right Now.  What a fucking waste.  What should be happening instead, is that women take advantage of a good/easy/convenient fuck while still on the lookout for the guy who has it all.  MEN DO THIS WITH EVERY GIRL THEY MEET.  We need to learn it, love it, live it, NOW.

The problem is that a lot of women have trouble separating sex and emotions.  GET OVER IT.  Don’t ALLOW emotions to get involved until they evolve naturally.  If he’s not the perfect man for you, why in the fuck would you waste your emotional energy wondering how he thinks of or feels for you?  Why would you want or expect a man to start a relationship with you when you barely know him and he barely knows you?

Of course, most men fall somewhere in between The Perfect Man and a Human Dildo and sometimes things can get confusing.  I’ve fallen for fuck buddies and I’ve realized a guy I thought was perfect on paper was nothing but a dick.  When this happens, separate yourself from him immediately and give yourself a little time.  Find out what you both want.  If you caught feelings and he doesn’t feel the same way, GET OUT IMMEDIATELY.  And if the opposite is true, break it off with him.  Its only fair.

Since most of the men you meet aren’t going to meet your criteria for boyfriend material, have fun and keep it casual.  Don’t let a good dick go to waste.  Don’t get caught up in the feels until you’re sure its something real.  Get some good lovin’ while the gettin’ is good because nothing makes you look hotter than being a confident woman who is obviously gettin’ some.  And all that sexy afterglow might just attract the one you’ve been waiting for.

Rule # 58: Just Because He’s Paying For Dinner Doesn’t Mean You’re Not A Booty Call

Posted by The Girl's Guide to Depravity in fuck, men, sex

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Up until my mid-twenties, it was pretty easy to draw the line between a guy who had boyfriend potential versus a guy you’d bang at 2am after drinking too much tequila. But as I’ve gotten older, I’ve found it trickier to determine whether a guy is serious about me or simply using me for sex.

To me, there’s three types of guys: a fuck buddy, a guy you date non-exclusively (that is, until someone decides to end it or stop seeing other people), and a committed boyfriend. Fuck buddies don’t always snuggle with you or spend the night, and you seldom have to worry about who’s paying for dinner, because the only thing you’re eating is each other’s genitals. At the opposite end of the spectrum, guys who want to settle down let you know you’re the only one they’re sleeping with, so the real grey area is the guys you’re dating.

Dating can encompass everything from being a fuck buddy to being close to settling down, and if a guy thinks there’s a chance he might like you as something more than a piece of ass, he’ll put in a minimal amount of effort until he figures out what he wants. And even if he finds that he only wants to fuck around, he will still take you out to dinner if he knows it’s a surefire way to get in your pants. If he knows he can get away with booty calling you at midnight, he’ll do it, but as we get older, we’re willing to put up with far less shit, so as a result, guys are willing to do more shit to make us believe that they’re not total scumbags.

Are You A Thrill-Fucker?

Posted by The Girl's Guide to Depravity in sex

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Do you like to have sex in public places?

I never thought I was into thrill-fucking, mostly because I’m not into getting caught. But then I realized that I do love to engage in more than a little PDA: Public Displays of Ass.

Being inducted into the mile-high club usually takes place in a tiny plane bathroom — but have you ever done it right there in your seat? Fucking SARS foiled my favorite plane position when they took away the free blankets but next time bring your own, wait for the seatbelt sign to go off and then get off.


My little Prius has seen more action than Roman Polanski at a sweet sixteen party. This is an all-time favorite of mine, I’ll do it in the backseat, in the front seat, parked in the parking lot of a mall or off the highway in the middle of the desert.


Although I have done it a few times before in the bathroom of a Thai food place (gross), and the Hotel Cafe, I continually fantasize about higher-end places to have sex in a public bathroom. My top two must-dos are the bathroom in the SLS hotel lobby (mirrors from floor to ceiling) and the frosted glass stalls at the co-ed Crunch Fitness bathroom.


I’ve come close but have never actually come outside, either on the beach or in the park. I really don’t want to wash sand out of my naughty parts for days and grass gives me a rash that my partner may suspect is the herp, so I tend to stay away from those two areas But if you’ve got a blankie, I say go ahead and get some spankie.

Where else have you tried/fantasized about sex in a public place? And how did it (or you) go off?