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Love Walter:  The Lost Art of Casual Sex

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Dear Walter,

 

I’m a little embarrassed to admit this but, I’m just looking for someone to hook up with for the holidays. Yep, I’m single and I want to stay that way. So a no strings attached situation would be ideal. Have you ever done it?

 

-No Strings Attached


Dear No Strings Attached,

 

Of course I have. What kind of sex columnist would I be if I haven’t had a few in and out sessions with some strangers. It’s cuffing season, now is time to find a man. Winter is coming! You get extra points if you’re within a five block radius. The cuddle buddy, the fuck buddy, the weed man, the DVD man, whatever you want to call him—you know when you find him.

 

I found mine for the night. His name was Daniel. He was dark, handsome and equipped with a magical penis that grew at night like Jack and the Beanstalk. Or so I thought?

 

We kicked it on the Kik Messaging app that helped streamline communication—a half step above Grindr but haven’t graduated to text messaging.

 

   DaddyDaniel:  “Boy you better stretch because I tend to wear dudes out,”  

 

   Walterwriter:  “Lord Jesus”

 

   DaddyDaniel:  “Yup, but he won’t save you from me, just so u know. Lol”

 

   Walterwriter:  “I guess I’m gonna sin again. Lol”

 

Four hours and 40 messages later, I was getting dressed and walking the four blocks to meet Daniel. I arrived at his apartment in leather pants and a sweater while chasing down my Bacardi chaser.

 

Our opening act was the most overrated position of all, the 69—it lasted sixty-nine seconds. It was particularly challenging, to be bent over, sucking my stomach in while my face is being stuffed. Halfway through a half-dozen positions, I pondered how little I knew him. I realized this was only a moment, so there was no room for regret.

 

My best sex ever.

 

We bounced to Beyonce, rolled around to Rihanna, and gyrated to Lady Gaga for over an hour.

He wasn’t as big as he advertised, but he contained magical properties. Unfortunately, that small fact regarding his standard size made him upset. He asked me to leave in the middle of the night like a hooker in a bad wig. How did I go from putting out to getting put out?

 

I grabbed my bag, bottle, and Beyonce, while still lubed up like a used car. With little gas in my system coupled with being on the verge of passing gas, I slowly walked home.

 

The next day, my body ached from my intense workout session. I’d become an addict. It was like go-go-gadget dick. So I rushed to my iPad to hit him up to reschedule another appointment for this week.

 

   DaddyDaniel:  “Well if you hadn’t been like dat last night, maybe we could’ve had round 2 but dats the worst thing u could do…tell a nikka dey dick not big enough.”

 

Damn.

 

Love,

Walter


Make sure to also checkout previous Love Walter columns here

Got a question? Email your letters at [email protected] His advice column will appear on Wednesday.

Walter Reed

Walter Reed is writer and advice columnist on love, lust, and life. Romance is his day job. Read more at LoveWalter.com. Follow him on Twitter @ LoveWalterHQ

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