Can Incompatibility Be The Problem?

He’s giving me that look again, rubbing on my leg and talking dirty to me.  I know what he wants and don’t know if I can stomach another round with him. In fact, the last time I almost reached towards the nightstand to get B.O.B. and this was while we were having sex.

I have been fortunate enough to have had some marvelous sexual conquests in my life. However just the same, there have been a few men who have fallen short (pun intended) in the bedroom and if this was just someone I was having a little fun with, I would chop it up as a loss and move on.  But when the sex isn’t so great with someone you really care for, in a relationship with or even married to, it’s a very big deal.

If you have ever found yourself being sexually frustrated or even repulsed at the thought of being intimate with someone, go on over to Digital Romance, Inc.* and check out my Guest Post about sexual compatibility:

Until there’s a cure…

Carmen Jones


*Digital Romance, Inc., one of the best sites for dating and relationship advice.

Breaking the Rules

Rule #1 of having a friend with benefits – don’t catch feelings.

Rule #2 of having a friend with benefits – don’t catch feelings.

If only there was a manual for how to successfully carry on with this type of thing.  Too bad I never thought to read 10 Simple Rules to Maintaining a Successful Sex Buddy Relationship.

Here’s my deal.

In an effort to minimize my slut factor throughout the years, I have kept the company of two male “companions” whose sole purpose in my life was to dick me down.  No drama, no dating, no regular telephone calls and no questioning of each other’s dealings or actions in anyway.

Each of these men held their positions for extended periods of time (one beginning in 2007, the other dating back to 1998) which is good in theory because we became used to each other and knew exactly how to satisfy one another.

One of these “companions” by the name of Good on Paper started off as just the cut buddy. At some, I allowed him to try and be more when he thought he wanted more than just sex.  Against my better judgment in spite of my gut saying no, I didn’t all object when he began breaking each of the rules that make this type of situation successful.

HE caught feelings.

GOP started calling more often, sending me those daily “good morning beautiful” messages that most women are suckers for, trying to make plans for things outside of the bedroom and more – basically, trying to court me.

I was completely open to the idea but there’s just one thing about certain men who think they know what they want but aren’t sure if that’s what they want.  They will always fuck it up in the end which is exactly what GOP did.  He fell off slowly with one thing here and something else there until he eventually did the unthinkable – planned a date and nevershowed up.

Needless to say, none of that went over well and quickly, I nipped any further interactions in the bud.  My tolerance from the kind of bullshit that men can dish out is pretty low and I quickly became so frustrated with his inconsistent behavior that I no longer wanted to deal with him on any level – not even for sex and the way he put it down (see my top ten ever) you know I had to be pretty pissed.

We should have left well enough alone because we had been carrying on for years with the “I’ll be home shortly, bring the condoms” kind of situationship and had pretty much pissed all of our good vibes away in a matter of weeks.  The dynamics had been changed from how they began – no, ruined and my stubborn as was never able to get beyond and his place had been fully secured in the hangovers wall of shame.

So now there’s the second “companion”, Papi.

If you go back and read through the moments I’ve shared with this man, you can easily see that we have been consistently inconsistent. We have taken the phrase on again/off again to the extreme and any gaps in us communicating and getting together were never due to any bad vibes, issues or any arguments.  It’s as simple as one person falling off or being too busy and we each just went on with our lives until one of us resurfaced and re-ignited the flame.

We have remained friends with the benefits of not having to deal with all of the extras that come between men and women.  It has worked for so many years and now something has happened.


WE caught feelings.

My last post was really about me having to admit to something that the alpha in me doesn’t want to do – that I had somehow lost my bearings and wasn’t handling the more consistent dealings with Papi very well.  The fact that I actually told him is even more confusing for me and the fact that he responded made that whirlwind effect of thoughts and emotions even worse.

“We can discuss that… I’m in crazy production mode right now, but we’ll get some clarity. Emotions aren’t mutually exclusive to you.”

I wasn’t completely sure what he was trying to say here, so the pessimistic side took it as being something bad.  Very bad but when realizing I wasn’t too confident in the meaning of mutually exclusive I went to look up the meaning which quite honestly, only added to the confusion.

As a woman, you know we can take the same message that was delivered to a man and dissect, inspect and interpret a million different ways.  Seeing this in a text message as opposed to having talked about it makes this analysis paralysis even worse.  So what do we do?  We take a couple of screenshots and then enlist the support of a friend or two (or three) asking them to try figuring out what is being said because of course, this is sooooooo much better than talking to the man directly, right?

Two of my girlfriends took it the wrong way and were trying to soothe my bruised feelings, encouraging me to just accept that he’s saying he doesn’t give a shit about your feelings and keep it moving.  Fortunately, a third friend interpreted it another way suggested I just pump my brakes and discuss it further which is exactly what I did.

Let’s fast forward a couple of days…

We’re laying in my bed hot and sweaty, trying to gather our bearings from an intense session and I commented how refreshing that was and referred to him as Mr. Mutually Exclusive.

I asked him clarify what the hell that meant and he says “What I was saying in my message is that you’re not the only one with emotions.  I’m in the same position and what’s so bad is that it isn’t MY first time being here trying to figure out what, if anything to do about it.”

Well I’ll be damned.  I’m not the only one who’s been holding out,  but now I feel like a soap opera cliffhanger.   What now???

Until there’s a cure…

Carmen Jones


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That One Connection


I’m addicted to him.

I realize this addiction after my latest encounter with Papi just a while ago, and while we have been at the sexual affair for almost 20 years, the unthinkable seems to be happening.

It just keeps getting better and this feeling is what frightens me the most.

Incredibly sensual and the chemistry is always intense.  The kind of interactions that most people will never experience in a life time.

We continue to explore and no take each other’s bodies to another level.  So tonight, it was my turn to be the dominant as I talked and nanny instructed him through each and every touch, kiss and stroke.

This man is truly my 50 Shades of Grey and this isn’t quite a sexual addiction, but an addiction to intimacy with him.

Oh, and what about dating?   Nope, nada, zilch.

I’m not even interested in trying to date and would be lying if I said it was solely due to the lack of quality men.  Instead,  my real issue is the “what if”.

What happens if I meet someone that I like?  That would force me to do exactly what I’ve done for years- pack him up and store him like some old discarded toy that had no use.  It’s like dating would be an unwelcome distraction or something.

Scary yet again, this all we have been for each other over the years and we know it is what it is, though each of us have done a few things outside of our boundaries as of late.

Him, with an invite to see him and enjoy a little music threw me for such a loop, I totally missed that he wanted to see me OUTSIDE the bedroom.  It never happened.  Totally out of character for him.

But I also stepped outside of my boundary a few days ago.  Texting him, saying how I couldn’t wait to see him when he returned from a trip.  Totally out of character for me.

Still….this isn’t us.

We know why I’m single and slowly but surely, I’m figuring out why he’s divorced and single and may likely have that status for the rest of his life.

Messed up situation that literally feels so good and so right.

I guess the cure I’m waiting for isn’t from the dating hangovers- maybe the cure is for him.

Carmen Jones

The 18 Year Situation

There’s something that happens when a woman is feeling really sexy and it could be something as simple as that dress fitting just right around her hips, those new stilettos or that new red lipstick.

We feel as if we need to be seen by everyone and it could mean a night out with the girls or a night in with a man. This evening it was just the thought of him and since I was feeling particularly frisky before getting dressed, the bad girl in me decided to take a photo or two. It wasn’t anything sleazy or something I would be ashamed of if that text message I was sending to him ended up in the wrong hands, but it was just enough. 

A simple message was attached asking “What time are we off work tonight” and when he replied “Damn, not soon enough but on time tonight without any curve balls.  I can’t wait to bathe in your hormones”.

Papi always comes back with the right answer and as he reminded me several days ago his “moves are usually in synergy” with what I like, hence the reason we have never had a falling out or disagreement in our 18 year history.

We have been consistently inconsistent with one another and while it doesn’t seem as if it’s been that long, I remember our first encounter right after graduating from college in 1998. I was the young and mouthy chick who thought she was pretty experienced, but he quickly and effortlessly showed me that I was a glorified amateur. Whatever it took to satisfy ME when it came to intimacy has been this man’s goal from day one and when I say he has never failed me between the sheets, I mean never. 

How many people can honestly say they’ve been with someone who can satisfy you with mind blowing sex each and every time? Go ahead and think about it, I’ll wait.Sexual_Chemistry_cover0So while I’m telling my girlfriend over drinks about my needing to sneak away from the group a little early she asks the same thing several others have asked – why haven’t we tried anything else besides the fucking?

She could tell how much respect I have for him and knew I had to care for this man in some way, but couldn’t understand how he could seem like the completed package and we haven’t progressed to anything else.   I replied that we gave it a shot at something else during a daytime outing (and only once) many years ago, and it was one of the most awkward dates ever. Uncomfortable silence among two great conversationalists is just mind blowing but that’s what happened. We just stared across the table at each other and finally started laughing before “we tried, back to business as usual” and that we.

After hearing all of this she just shakes her head in amazement and tells me “That’s your husband; you guys are in a sexual marriage”.

Hearing someone clearly define this situation using words other than friend with benefits or fuck buddy was pretty damn amazing to me. I would have never thought of it that way but realizing the extent of history (and not just the sexual exploration over the years) I’ve had with Papi I realized she’s right and at the same time, remembered that NO other man will ever be able to do the one thing he has done – he was involved with me before I had a child (flawless body), while I was with child (it was over with the father sooner than later) and now after my child (stretch marks and some extra pounds).

Throughout all of the life experiences he has never wavered or broken his pattern of consistency with me when it came to the intimate moments. 


Now we can fast forward to the last two months and now Papi and I have been more on than off, mainly because I haven’t really had any interest in finding someone for anything more meaningful. Sure, there’s the occasional date here and there but these men just don’t seem to do it for me so the desire and effort is minimal at best. While this seems as if my existence in the online world is nothing more than something to do, the bigger concern I have is whether I’m just really messed up and confused about what I really want and may have turned into one of those women who doesn’t care about anything else or I’m in denial.

Is it possible for you to have relations with someone for this long of a time without having any desire for anything more or better yet – not have strong feelings or even be in love?

What’s wrong with me or what’s wrong with him?

Guess I’m going to need to let those thoughts marinate a bit but just a little because we all know that once a woman starts thinking about things, she normally changes the dynamics from stable to chaotic.

Until there’s a cure…

Carmen Jones

P.S. If you’re subscribed to emails and want to view images and anything else, go on and click this link for more of the hangovers!



The Familiar


When the sex is so good, you’re ready for bed by 9pm on a Saturday night.

It’s been 7 months and after a disappointing random encounter with someone new, I decided it’s best to stick with what I know.

After nearly 20 years, he has never ever let me down.

Mmm, Papi.

Until there’s a cure for the dating hangovers, I will not be starved of multiple orgasmic episodes.

Carmen Jones

Ignoring the Limpness

It’s late at night and the two of you either made plans for a happy ending or figured a hot and steamy make out session is what a 2am visit would eventually lead to.

An intense round of tongue wrestling ensues and next thing you know, any clothing you were wearing has been strewn throughout the room.

The kissing and touching gets pretty intense, nipples and other body parts are now out and ready for some action but there’s just one small problem – the man’s penis isn’t cooperating and not willing to participate in the fun.

This just happened to me last night and I’ll be damned if I start my new year off with yet another dysfunctional penis.  Remember my last experience with the two minute man who swore the type of alcohol he drank caused his premature happy ending?

What the hell is going on with these men and why are they putting themselves in situations knowing there’s a possibility they won’t be able to follow through on the foreplay?

Fortunately, these are experiences with men I’ve not dated regularly and thank goodness, am not in a relationship with because I hear far too many stories about these broken penises.

Friends who adore their boyfriends and love their husbands complain all of the time about how the sex is just unbearable because his morning wood is more like stale string cheese or his inability to get beyond 5 struggle pumps.

Too drunk, medications, too tired, nervousness or any other reasons that may exist, you (men) will be embarrassed and we (women) will be pissed, so I’m really curious about the best way to handle this.

Are we supposed to gently tap little Willy on the head and murmur “There, there… it’s okay” or try to ignore the elephant in the room.

What say you?

Until there’s a cure (for dating hangovers and penis problems)…

Carmen Jones

The Come Back Charlie’s

Hangovers aren’t really feelings you ever want to return but every now and then,  I just might entertain the idea of being entertained.  It’s been several years since I’ve been seen the one called The Black Russian,  but we have both been in and out of the online dating scene so we have chatted briefly a time or two.

Yesterday he decided to reach out via telephone and before I share the how his life has been since we met, here’s a little throwback post to reintroduce or introduce him to you.  If you want to read about how that first encounter ended, click here.

And now on to The Date with The Black Russian, Part 1…



Okay, do you want the short version or the tale with all the goodies because Friday night’s date with the one I’ll call “Black Russian” ended with a few laughs, moans, a few groans and quite possibly a few tears.  In fact, this  guy’s name should really be “Almost 10” or “Ovary Killer” and by the end of this post, you’ll understand what I mean.  It is not my intent to be a writer of erotica but hey, the purpose of the blog is to share my experiences so boys and girls, here we go!

                                                                                    The Guy  

A few details about my latest hangover candidate include the obvious – this amalgamated specimen is the product of a black father (the black man  is always tapping into other oceans) and a Russian orthodox mother.   I joked with him that he was the first his kind for me and was the first person I was meeting off of Plenty of Fish this second time around.

Yeah, I know I said I’d given up online dating months ago but I really just signed up for this service with no intention of meeting anyone.  Honestly, most dating sights are pure comic relief with the photos and profiles alone, but I signed up to get articles and thread posts for blog material.  Anyway, back to our guy.  He’s quite handsome, towering over me with 6’4, thin to medium build frame, with beautiful teeth and has a complexion of a latte with two tablespoons of cream. I hate hate hate having a type and as much as I try to escape from it,  he was my typical looking guy.

                                                                              Setting the Date  After a few phone conversations and texting, Black Russian finally said how it would be cool if we finally met up so we agreed on Friday; the destination was up in the air.  Now let me say this – I normally like a guy to do all of the planning and just give me an idea on what attire I should consider, I like to be surprised but understanding that has probably backfired a time or two, I was okay that we didn’t have a “where to” set in stone.  The plan was to meet up at his house, though I made it clear I would wait for him OUTSIDE his place and we’ve go from there.

                                                                                 The Meeting   

Hooray!!!! He looks like his profile and the follow up picture and not like a ninja turtle and yay!!! He wasn’t dressed like he was going to shoot pool with the homeboys (remember Ghetto 2Pac?).  Dressed in a date-appropriate outfit consisting of a dark v-neck, jacket, jeans and black shoes and smelling great he drove us to our destination for dinner and drinks.  Black Russian’s a nice guy, converses well and has manners so I enjoyed our time out.  Fireworks, moments of WOW and thoughts of this might be a connection?  No, I didn’t feel any real chemistry and it was likely mutual so if anything, we both had probably figured we could become friends at best.  The night was going well until we did the unthinkable on a first date – started talking about sex.

Sometimes you meet a person and you have absolutely nothing in common.  Sometimes you have many things in common but you just don’t like the person.  Sometimes you are so-so, nothing that knocks your socks off about the person and you make do. Sometimes you meet a person and find you are on the EXACT SAME PAGE, especially when it comes to something you both really enjoy.  Sex.

                                                                           Bragada & Carmen  

Alright, so dinner and a few drinks combined with talks about past relationships, what worked and what didn’t.  Does size matter, conversations you should not have after sex, crazy women and all that good first date stuff is how we closed out dinner.   Once I’d mentioned the inadequate size of an ex’s tool, Black Russian seemed shocked that a woman could tolerate such a small, pitiful, disappointing piece of—  okay, I digressed.  Anyway, he asks me with the grin of a Cheshire cat “8+inches enough for you?”

Needless to say, while waiting for our pitifully sorry waiter to come with the check I don’t think either of us was ready for the night to end.  I know this is really an invitation to get some booty, but when he asked me if I wanted to come back to his place and “chill” for a bit over some drinks, I really didn’t care.  I did not PLAN on things happening the way they did, but after the vodka (what else would a Russian drink!) and cranberry, small talk about friends and living space, reminiscing over old slow jams we loved and agreeing that a Prince concert is a must see, as we sat on the sofa he went in for the kill.  My neck.

Ladies, I don’t know how many erogenous zones you may have but you know that one really gets you going and for me, it’s my neck.  It seems like it is the most sensitive area at times, because I’m extremely ticklish in one way but the right touch, kiss or lick sends me well – not laughing, that’s for sure.  So the kiss on the neck goes to the cheek, to the lips and oh, the lips.  Soft, succulent, moist, full, powerful.  Black Russian had made this comment about his mouth days ago when I asked him if his bong and cannabis hobby left him with dry, chaffed lips.  Not only did he fire off an adjective laden reply, he topped it off by telling me those same lips could elicit orgasm after orgasm.  How’s that for a little pre-meeting foreplay?

So after a really intense necking, kissing, nipple sucking & breast massaging session he comes at me with what is probably the cheesiest line EVER – “Come on, I want you to see how soft my bed is”.

Really?  We just this heated you’re-making-me-moist grinding session and that’s the best line to get me in your room?  Well I’m sorry, you must think I’m the most naïve, just got off the turnip truck type of girl you can say anything to because…. Because… It worked!  LOL!!!!

Through the black curtains and to the bedroom we go and shortly after I met Bragada.  Slow down pervs, not another woman or anything but the bed – this guy wasn’t kidding because this memory foam with a dash of heaven was the most comfortable bed I’ve ever laid my body on.  We lay there talking and laughing about me now being a believer when suddenly he says he wanted to show me what else was the softest.

Enter the “Hey, what are you doing” as he pulls quickly manipulates through the belt loops and zipper of my jeans, followed by the “oh no, you’re not doing that” as he’s telling me exactly how he’s going to get multiple orgasms out of me ending with the inaudible “Oh my GOD” and some other things I said that I simply cannot remember.

The Black Russian delivered.  Orgasm after orgasm, back to back.  Knee shaking, spine tingling.  Damn, and this is after just the first date?  I felt weak, pleaded for him to give me a break but he was relentless.  So of course, you know what happens next…..

To be continued…

Until there’s a cure…

Carmen Jones

The Selfish Fucker

hititThey say it’s best to try everything at least twice and that’s exactly what I did with this latest hangover who as of Wednesday, so it seems like this was a mutual agreement to hit it and quit it.

Our initial encounter went pretty well  and if  you recall, the sexual interaction was a little strange and not very satisfying with me because it felt like I was in bed with Roger Rabbit who was doped up on some type of enhancement drug.  He just couldn’t get enough because as he said over and over again, “your pussy is just so damn good” and it seemed to me as if I was expected to just give in to his raging appetite.  During our post-sex wrap up, he asked again if it was really that bad because we had gone on for so long and said it was because he had consumed so much Vodka and swears the drinks gave him some super powers which explained that crazy marathon sex.

Seriously?  Of course I had to do a little checking on the benefits of Vodka myself and learned that some types have potato byproducts but guess what?  Didn’t find shit that said libidos are being extended by having a dirty martini or two so I’m sticking with him having popped a pill before we went to dinner.  This guys ego was something else because it was almost as if he was expecting me to give him four gold stars for our encounter but instead, I had to admit that because of the chaffing and just exhaustion it wasn’t such a great experience for me and in the end it was because he’s a selfish fucker.

With the exception of a brief moment of me straddling him before being tossed over on my back like a rag doll, the duration of the night was with me being trapped in HIS favorite position which for men who have smaller or thinner penises, love it since it allows for optimum penetration.  I then reminded him that having my knees pressed to my chest with his former football physique on top of me was tantamount to having someone sitting on my chest.  Now that I think about it, he came across as having some serious expectations for that having been our first time because he not only was asking “Who’s pu$$y is this”, he kept begging for a blow job and at one point even had the nerve to get me to try anal sex with him.  No boundaries for this man, none at all but he obviously thought the same applied to me which is the furthest from the truth.

Needless to say, I wasn’t excited about anything else along the lines of intimacy with him but he is a decent enough guy so I at least agreed to a second date with him and figured hey – he might even get a second chance but my mind and body were in a completely different zone than that previous week.  In fact, everything was different with me to the point where I didn’t want to hold his hands and and when he went in for a kiss, he was met with my cheek.  Since we live so far apart we had already decided that he could crash at my place and be gone by checkout time, so we arrived and as I was in the bathroom washing up, he had popped open a bottle of wine and by the time I walked into the bedroom was butt naked in my bed – waiting with glass in hand.  This entire moment was pretty damn comical to me because it reminded me of the scene from Waiting to Exhale and there is something about a cocky bastard just knowing he’s about to get it that infuriates a woman.  So I did the ultimate – started wrapping my hair up in a scarf,  threw on my pajamas and turned onto my side before telling him “Nighty night”.

Have you ever been laying in the bed and felt someone’s eyes burning a whole into your back?  Yep, this is exactly what I was feeling and was tickled pink when he kept telling me the clothes and panties had to come off because he was definitely getting some before he went to sleep.  Again, the expectations of this man were incredible and it was because of his attitude that having sex ready and available at his beckon call that I lay there telling him it just wasn’t going to happen.  He asked again and again “Why” and “Why not” before finally saying that he had to respect my decision and would “handle things” accordingly.

Now he’s pissed because he can’t get his way and can’t understand how I was so willing the first time and unwilling the second.  Interestingly enough, I sometimes wake up in the wee hours of the morning if I’m with a man and have an intense craving for sex so this night was no different.  All it took was a couple of rubs on his bald head and shoulders from me to awaken him and within a few moments, we were both ready to go and then within about TWO minutes, it was over.  Yes, three minutes and what’s the first thing that comes out of a man’s mouth when he comes too quickly?  “This has never happened to me before”.

I can’t win for nothing with this dude – it’s either too long or too short so he either didn’t have time to take something, was so excited that I finally gave in or maybe it was the rum and coke he had and not the Vodka.  No hard feelings here and at least I tried something new and did it  more than once.  There weren’t any expectations of him other than the exploration of sex with a new partner and for him this woman wasn’t willing to deliver whenever and however he wanted so this just means I’m back to my Ladysgasm or sticking with the regular players with proven track records of consistency and satisfaction.

Until there’s a cure….

Carmen Jones


Too Much Continued….Minus the Spam!

For the first time in the years I’ve been writing this blog, a post was sent out loaded with Spam content including everything from naughty messages to Cialis recommendations.  Could it be purely coincidental since “erectile dysfunction” was one of the tagged phrases?  I don’t know but apologize profusely for any confusion.  While there were quite a few dirty birds who were still able to read through the muddle, here’s the post again without the Spam:


I’ll just cut to the chase and say that this weekend was a bit of a whirlwind and no – this has nothing to do with that nice fella I went camping with a few weeks ago.  That poor guy still remains stuck in that same zone after about three months now and although he was a perfect gentleman, treated me like royalty and loved that I got along so well with his group of friends, his status hasn’t elevated not one bit. Strictly platonic and even after sleeping in the same bed inside our tent he got nothing more than a kiss on the cheek.  At least I tried and tried to feel something for him but I just can’t force the physical attraction felt for any man and as a woman, when we’ve made up our minds about who we’re having sex with and how soon, it will happen.  In fact, just a few days earlier during the week as I sipped my key lime martini while chatting with a girlfriend I told her about my upcoming date, adding how it was time for some fresh meat so my mind was made up about how the date was going to end.  I knew that he was a good guy on paper and really has his life together, but his purpose has been defined based on him only being in California until his kid finishes school.  Sounds like a fling-material for sure so by Saturday that same friend received my update saying  “Grrrrrrrreat date, sore pu$$y and tow yard”.

There’s a lot going on in that last sentence, right?

The date itself was exactly what we both expected because our conversations leading up to it told us so.  We’re equally yoked. Smart, confident,  focused, sarcastic, funny, stable, direct, and sexually charged.  This guy is a straight shooter who loves to take charge and is willing and most importantly ABLE to afford life’s little luxuries.  He is the type of person who knows a little bit about everything and even though I joked a few times that he was borderline cocky, his ability to keep me engaged each time we speak is a definite plus.  If no one believes that how a man talks to you can be incredibly sexy, you heard it here and if he has a deep, soothing voice with crisp words of clarity, that is like the icing on a cake. Perhaps it’s the first date in months where I was actually attracted to the man on so many levels, or maybe it was the combination of alcohol and the booming beats at the bar we visited after dinner that had me so riled up.  I can’t really put say what made me so hot and heavy but my little kitty was ready for some action.  The way he stared at me from across the room with eyes that said he could just devour me was a turn on and  when he would touch me ever so gently while guiding my pool stick for that perfect shot, I was turned on even more.

Suffice to say that when we made it back to his place, it  was time to release a little tension.  Now here’s where things get a little interesting and for the life of me, I absolutely love a man who has dick control and doesn’t reach his peak and need to release too soon though I understand sometimes it can happen if it’s just that good.  On the other end of the spectrum is the man who takes a little while longer to get to the end which can be a little annoying to a woman but for the life of me – I have never ever ever been with a man like this whose appetite for sex and fellatio was continuous.  Hours have passed by and my legs are aching from being pressed against my chest, which has caused my breathing to be a little shallower from the pressure, combined with multiple orgasms so everything just felt really sore.  The only reason we actually took any periods of break is because I had tapped out and please believe it was enjoyable but damn – at what point does it become annoying when you’ve been going at it for so long?  Especially for a woman.  I told him where I could see a problem with us carrying on any further because intercourse seemed to be never ending for him (I even asked if he had popped a magic pill) but for me, I’m quite satisfied after about an hour in the same setting.  Am I alone here or is there really such a thing as too much of a good thing?

Fortunately, the minute man has only frequented these sugar walls once or twice in my life but I know of far too many women who deal with this in their relationships and marriages.  It sucks when you’re just getting started and the man is already done (the average length of sexual intercourse is about 5 minutes according to this article) but ladies should be careful what they ask for because the opposite end of the spectrum can be just as bad and anything beyond about 45 minutes at a time is crazy to me.   Let me repeat – we were going at it for hours and while my juices are definitely flowing pretty well, just as with anything else the wetness doesn’t last forever and after a while marathon sex just becomes frustratingly painful.  I think this woman sums up my feelings perfectly when this guy asks her what’s the problem and why she doesn’t like going a long time:

Because my internal organs are being repeatedly rammed with a nine inch long pole, and the outer bits get rubbed raw from simple stretching and chafing. I have extremely sensitive skin and a tiny vaginal opening, so even short sex sessions can leave me achy and feeling a little torn.

Here’s another comment on how marathon sex feels to women:

It’s not about how wet you can stay or how much lube you’re using so I think everyone gets sore after some time no matter of much lube you got.  Imagine shoving something big up your nose that stretches out your nostril for a long time;  Even if you had lube you would still get sore after a while.

Yes, that’s pretty much what I was feeling and a swollen and chaffed vagina serves neither of us any purpose.  Just to think – it’s been one whole year since I’ve had a new sexual partner, there’s no fear of me getting emotionally attached to this one and he truly has it together making him an ideal to date for a while but his appetite may be too much. Hopefully he’s taken heed to our post-sex discussions and realizes that going on and on until the break of dawn isn’t the way to go for me.  We’re going out again this weekend so we’ll see how things go and oh – about that tow yard?  Well….when we finally gave the bed a break and I sent him to fetch my overnight bag, something told me there was a problem when he hadn’t returned after almost half an hour.  It turns out that the area where he suggested my car stay parked was NOT an overnight parking spot so at some point between my first and last orgasm, my little red caboose was towed away.  A few telephone calls later, several miles down the road and $350.00 out of his pocket later, I was on my merry little way with my hangover, achy thighs and chaffed lips.

All things considered, it was a good date.

Until there’s a cure…

Carmen Jones


Fifty Shades of…


Last night’s date with a man I originally met over two years ago was painstakingly boring and from the moment we walked into a local spot for a few drinks, my mind was already wandering to the dirty limits.

Who was I going to fuck once I get rid of this sappy dude?  Sounds pretty bad to think about a man while in the presence of another but it is what it is.  The night (finally) came to an end with a church hug and as soon as this ass hit the seat, I was looking at my phone wondering who would be the suitor of choice.

The first person that came to mind was  a definite no, off limits, do not contact for sex or anything else, not ever.  Feeling defeated at having to dip back into the coffers for a little nightcap sex, the mission was abandoned and I went home and settled for giving my pillow some head and my sheets a little ass.

But not tonight.

After sharing my latest dating experiences with my girlfriend Me So Single, I was feeling pretty frisky and told her it had been a few months now since my last encounter with Out of Sight and it was time for some action.

She went through the same checklist of former flings with me and we narrowed my options down to two – Papi and Good on Paper.

I always had great times with the two of them, and each had his special skills in the intimacy department so within a matter of minutes, the bat signal was sent to each of them with some of the most sophisticated wording possible after 2 Mai Tai’s – “I’m HORNY”.

We sat there giggling at the message and nearly fell out of our chairs thinking about the comedic reaction had I sent a group message instead that allowed ALL of them to reply.

So damn tempting, but I didn’t and instead just sat back seeing which fish would bite first.  Papi responded saying he was on his way home and would meet me there.  Me So Single already knew this meant whatever time we had remaining at the restaurant to shoot the breeze was coming to an abrupt ending.  This is what great friendship is all about – no one standing in the way of another when it comes to a kitty call.

Papi is truly my fair weather friend  with benefits and the only reason I stopped dealing with him last year is when I was trying to focus on that other guy but hey – I’m very much single and ready to tingle.

Lovely indeed how this man never seems to disappoint and when I walked into his house, and he immediately began to undress me with his eyes.

I knew we were about to indulge in some pleasurable grown up fun.  The man has always been an entertaining lover. Making it his mission to ensure that there are multiple orgasms had before I leave and we have played around with toys and even handcuffs, but tonight was quite different.

When he pulled out some type of chord for the television to stream music I jokingly asked “Oh, is that chord for me” to which he replied “It can be if you want”.

A sly smile crept across my face and when he started playing around with the video record feature and grinned at my sexy faces and poses to watch myself, Papi asked “Would you like to experiment with this one day as well?” to which I replied yes, some day but for now….he can just get ready for me.

He’s so methodical with his movements and talks to me with a firm and steady tone.  Instructing me to get on the bed on my knees with my back towards him then asks me he doesn’t have his cuffs but can improvise if it was okay with me.

Trying  to respond with words proved to be a little difficult because by now his tongue was making its way to my g-spot but while he’s working there, I suddenly hear the sound of velcro followed by something being wrapped around my left ankle.

Of course my reaction is to look behind me to see what he was doing, but as soon as I moved my head, he dove deeper inside of me with his tongue.  Okay bad girl, keep my head straight ahead is what came to mind until a few moments later, I hear the same sound and can feel the same thing being placed on my right ankle.

No other connection was made other than something being strapped to both ankles but I was still free and soon, was told to turn around and lay on my back.

Staring this man in the face and going up to run my fingers through a mass of tight, black curls, I’m now noticing how his expression has changed to one that gave me an idea of what was about to come from fifty shades of Papi.

Literally and figuratively.

He leans in and begins ravishing my mouth with his tongue, going to my breasts then back again to my mouth and suddenly there’s that sound again and the same contraption on my ankles is now on both of my hands.

Nothing more to think about since both my feet and hands were still free but then things get interesting as he stops to link the two hand cuffs together and for a minute, my mind is trying to make the connection.

Are my hands going over my head clasped together?

Is he about to flip me over on my back so my hands end up behind me or something else?

The answer was neither because in a matter of seconds, my hands AND feet were bound together in front of me and for one brief moment, there was a little trepidation about what was to come next.

I know for a fact that “Oh my God” was probably said over twenty times as I shook, shivered, convulsed, moaned and whatever other voluntary and involuntary actions my body went through.  This man devoured, touched and explored EVERY part of my body and I do mean nothing was left untouched.

We definitely tapped into areas that had never been experienced in the 15 years that we have known each other and let me tell you – if you have never experienced any type of kinky sexual experiences involving anything from blindfolds to vibrators to bondage, you have absolutely no idea how heightened your libido and sensation can really become.

You might be wondering how is it that the sex with this man can get even more interesting.  The fact is that he always keeps it lively and out of curiosity, I even asked him how was it that he was so damn good.

His response was that he ready books and a lot of them, starting back in high school with a 300-page vignette on the anatomy of women.  Papi takes the time to know and understand the woman’s body which in turn, means he is focused on her ultimate pleasure and satisfaction.

Damn does it show and I joked while getting dressed that I felt as if I should be paying him.  Now that’s some good shit.

My hormonal cravings have been satisfied for now and oh – as I was driving home, guess who responded to the bat signal?

Good on Paper asking if it was too late or if I had already moved on to the back up plan.  The lack of response should have answered this for him so sorry, the early bird gets the worm.

Until there’s a cure…

Carmen Jones

Small World


So far, so good with Out of Sight and while I think the crack in his foundation has been clearly identified based on our conversations, my focus will be away from the negative and more on the potential that he’s offering.  Unfortunately for his friends and family, the relocation date has been pushed ahead by over a month and I’m not ashamed to say that I’m elated to hear this.  It’s all about me for right now.

Funny thing is that I’m quite nervous at the same time because the expectations that Out of Sight has for a woman he would even consider dating are quite demanding and while unrealistic isn’t necessarily an accurate statement, let’s just say it is now very apparent (beyond him being a workaholic) why this man is single. Still, things seem to be progressing fairly well so far as the two of us getting to know one another and I’m really thinking the distance apart enhances the types of conversations we’ve been having.

I mentioned in my last post that Out of Sight is the closest you can get to being the male equivalent of me; that could be a bad thing because we both have very extreme points of views but it’s our ability to be open with our communication that seems to balance everything out.  We tell a lot of stories and share experiences – both the good and the bad, so last week during one of our discussions I learned to hate a particular phrase that we tend to use – it’s a small world.

Allow me to explain how we have learned that we have more in common that we originally knew or cared to know…

A few weeks ago me and Out of Sight were having one of our usual telephone gab sessions while I was en route to a birthday gathering and something the two of us seem to have in common (to a fault) is the reference of a person’s name when sharing a memorable experience or story.  Without recalling all of the specifics that morning, I do remember saying how the birthday honoree was a really great guy and because of his personality, seemed to know so many people all over the country.

Out of Sight happens to ask why was it that this guy so popular and my reply was “Maybe because he’s part of a large fraternity or maybe it’s just that he’s amazingly entertaining and compassionate person”, and then he asks what was my friend’s name.  It turns out we know the SAME person very well with me having worked with him and developed a close friendship over the years, while both he and his ex-wife are intimately familiar with this same guy. You better believe the itch is certainly there for me to let our mutual connection know that one of his boys was on my hangover radar to start probing him for some information whether good or bad surprisingly,  I’ve continued to resist doing so.  Instead, I’ll continue learning all about Out of Sight on my own and let things flow with naturally.  This instance of it really being a small world after all isn’t bad and in fact, ended up being pretty comical once we shared our thoughts about the secret life this mutual friend is probably engaging in.  The second example, however hit a little too close to home.

In case I haven’t made it clear enough, we converse pretty often which can range from several times throughout the day or depending on how crazy our schedules may be, once or twice but nothing too extreme in either direction. The lovely part about this blossoming friendship is that nothing is left off the table, absolutely nothing.  We talk about everything from credit scores, favorite pastimes, whether it’ll be a hug or a long kiss when we meet, to my thoughts on someone using the bathroom while I’m showering and best of all – we share experiences and funny stories.

So a few days ago during one of our mid-morning sessions, we were talking about his upcoming move as well as the vacation he’s taking to the land of silicones and fat-injected booties – Miami and he asked if I wanted to come along.  I remember making a comment about the wild and crazy partying that would surely take place, which sparked a flashback in his mind that began with “I remember one time I was messing around with this one kinky chick named __________; man, let me tell you she was a f-r-e-a-k and the things we did and what she let me do….”

Initially, Out of Sight didn’t hear me when I chuckled and said “Shit, I KNOW her!”, and he continued telling the tale of how he was a 22 year-old in his sexual prime meeting up with a woman who was in the same place as he was in sexual curiosity.  Down to try anything, ready to explore everything.  The more he talked in this amazingly animated tone, the quieter I became as I started going through my photo gallery to find a photo of her.  Suddenly, it hit him; he pauses saying “What? You don’t know her, let me finish telling you this story because there’s no way we’re talking about the same woman.”

As soon as I began quizzing him on the physical appearance and he mentioned one very specific part of her body, doubts were quickly being eliminated.  SILENCE.

Now just picture this for a moment – A woman is happily running through a field of beautiful sunflowers, the wind is blowing through her hair and she doesn’t have a care in the world.Suddenly, she starts sinking slower and slower into the ground until finally – her entire head is covered in cow manure. Is the picture pretty clear? This is exactly how I was feeling at the realization that this uh…sexually liberated woman was the same person, a former fling of his and a very, very good friend of mine.

Saying that it is a small word is an understatement and really – what is the likelihood of the person you found online, are anxiously waiting to meet, lives thousands of miles away AND happens to have had some kinky, sex toy filled threesome encounter with one of your closest friends?

I have to give him credit though, because he’s obviously got great taste in women, because we are so much alike.We’re quite similar in appearance and stature, personalities are the same hence our friendship, and are both pretty darn smart. That’s the bright side, I suppose.

Still, I couldn’t help feeling a certain kind of way.   Regardless of how long ago it was the thought that me getting to the point of kissing this man and engaging in any type of intimate encounter will always be in my mind as him having once been one of her conquests and me taking on her………leftovers. Alas, I am pressing forward and will just have to think like a man; they are entirely different creatures when it comes to certain situations like this and couldn’t give a flying fart about a friend or even a relative having dealt with the same woman.

There’s also a part of me that is resisting the urge to ask her a few pressing questions such as: how was he in bed, was it any good, did it stay hard without having to work hand or mouth miracles, would she do it again, does the jizz smell okay, was he able to satisfy both her and the other woman, is he wild and passionate, can he kiss, does he have good bedroom talk, is he a minute man?

Dating is hard enough without little glitches like this!

So many things I’m wondering about as I realize that there are now not one, but two aces I’m holding in my pocket; two people who are very near and dear to me who could really shed some additional insight on Out of Sight.

I guess I’m okay with not probing and will let things ride as I look forward to meeting the man who seems to have captured my attention for all the right reasons.

 Until there’s a cure for the dating hangovers…

Carmen Jones

The Crymax Experience


“Move your arms again and I will punish you and go harder, do you understand? Keep them up just like that.  I told you when I saw you again; I was going to make sure we parted ways with you being extremely satisfied.”

I can remember nodding followed by some kind of inaudible sound coming out of my mouth, which wasn’t good enough so he responded with a devilish grin and a deep thrust.   The reaction to that was a loud yelp and “Okay sweetie, I’m sorry” which turned him on even more as he began to rhythmically drill into hidden corners inside of me.

Soft whimpers of pleasure escaped my lips, my eyes closed and just as my hands were about to leave the wooden slats on my headboard, he slowed down the pace; whispering a reminder in my ear, while licking my lobes in between words.  I have several erogenous zones and this man seems to affect each and every one, so my body is going crazy with this overload of sensory stimulation.

I enjoy it when my men talk to me in the bedroom. Not the lame “Whose _____ is this” or “Does it feel good” type of banter, but real talking. Telling me what he likes, how he wants me to work it, when to slow it down or when to pump it back.

Even more, I love the role of the submissive and as I bite on my bottom lip playing back the events of that day, realize how long it has been since I’ve been this turned on.  The regular trysts with Papi are always exciting and full of energy but this was different, this was new.

Dripping with sweat, sheets all over the place, headboard loose, hair matted, thighs and arms achy, voice is hoarse and body is severely dehydrated.

Ladies, have you ever had an orgasm and fellas, do you know what it feels like when a woman is having one?

Some women may not understand what it means to have one either.  I’m talking about a really intense sensation, where you can feel the build up of your release starting from the bottom of your feet, moving through your toes and to your groin like an electric shock dancing through your body.   You find yourself clenching your teeth, breathing becomes shallow and uneven and whatever is near your hands at that moment is going feel all of that energy.

This is the best way I can describe it and when your partner is noticing all of this, experiencing all of the ebbs and flows from your body, if he’s in tune with you will be turned on even more. Mmmm…..

So as I’m nearing my moment, I could feel my walls squeezing, getting tighter and tighter like a vice grip.  What is he doing?  He’s stroking my face while telling me to stop holding back and let it go, enjoying every moment. I’m no longer breathing faster, grabbing him tighter and feeling like I’m in a daze until finally, I couldn’t hold it any longer.

That moment came when I had to succumb to that sweet joyful ending, leading to me yelling, moaning and yes- even crying. This is what is meant by a crymax; not streaming tears or sobbing but the results of being overcome by emotions because it’s that good.

I just laid there for a minute, in amazement, thinking how I had thought his kinky fetish for toys like the Flesh Light would have left him incapable of performing with the real thing.   Meanwhile those same walls just kept pulsing and pulsing and more pulsing.

Ah…..this was my Hope Experience.

I can’t make this shit up if I tried and for the life of me have NEVER placed a man in the “best I ever had” list based on the first experience. This man has definitely been placed in the top three just based on the number of times he was able to will my body into releasing over and over and again and again.  I stopped counting how many after six.

Many of you may not realize this, but it has been over two years since I had a completely new sexual encounter. All of the time my escapades had been carried out with former flings or hangovers, so to say that I couldn’t wait for something new is an understatement.

Hope is a good guy, but he is damaged goods. A man whose heart had been completely open to love a woman with everything and instead, the same heart had been abused two times in a row. He admitted he’s in no place for anything more which is why he’s been single over two years. So when I reached out to him several weeks ago, my intentions were purely selfish.  Just as I had told one other man (Good on Paper) years ago, I told him there was no reason for me to try dating him and instead asked “When are we f_______g?”.  A date was set, we had an enjoyable lunch filled with pre-sex talk to uncover our likes, dislikes and limits and the results were… well, you know.

Until there’s a cure for the dating hangovers, my needs will not be ignored.

Carmen Jones

The Other White Meat


Remember a few posts back when I was getting all jungle fever with it?  I mentioned that I was finally ready to start paying attention to men of a different persuasion and get my swirl on.

For my slow readers, I’m a black woman who has dated nothing but black men (unless mixed races counts for anything).  I have resisted the trend of interracial dating for a few reasons, but figure it’s time to start tapping into a wider pool of available men.

I’ll share my theories on the types of men that are attracted to different types of black women later, but for now I must say- since changing my preferences to “open” in terms of interracial dating,  the  responses have been interesting.

It’s been almost a month since getting back online and maybe going to the melting pot of dating sites (the one where every one seems to be on it! ), that explains the TYPES of messages I’ve been receiving from all types.

There are the geriatric white men, middle-aged Shahs of Sunset, twenty-something Latino stud muffins, Vanilla Ice knock offs and thirty plus Asians with flavor.  The rainbow coalition of men is all over the place which definitely makes for some interesting chats, BUT it’s the Adam Levine looking hottie with all the right qualities that has left a bad taste in my mouth.  It seems like (and this is just my observation) the white men on this site between the ages of about 30-50 are sexually charged perverts.

It isn’t just me, because my friend Kimora is experiencing the same thing based on her brief interaction with a man whose screen name was A Hard Nine, but it’s the context of the messages to me that seem a little uh…specific.

I’ve never really wanted to embark on the interracial journey out of curiosity or to satisfy some secret fetish for wondering if non-black men could really hold it down or all pink or tan tips.  Okay, I’m exaggerating with these examples but….  instead,  I have a genuine interest in trying something new, period.

These douchebags referenced above?   Without a doubt are going for the fantasy/fetish/sexual approach and here’s why I say this:

“Your lips are so full and beautiful. ..”
“I love your skin, it would look good on..”
“Your mouth looks inviting…”
“Would love a bj from you, you’re pretty.”

Just examples of the messages from this week alone, but there have been some that were just out of pocket.   Most are ignored,  some I reply with “Thank you, good luck” and others?  Well…. it really depends on the mood and since I’ve been under the weather, this handsome asshole was in for quite a surprise.

The funny part?  I think my reply turned him on because he messages FIVE times afterwards until I eventually blocked him:


Until there’s a cure for the hangovers and douche bags…

Carmen Jones

Thoughts & Achy Nipples


I’m not sure what it was that jostled me out of the bed this morning, because it sure as hell wasn’t the chime of my alarm.  Memo to self: Pressing “Save” is a critical step when changing the time of your wake-up call.  Was it the sound and smell of the horny neighborhood skunks getting it in under my bedroom window the reason I nearly fell onto the floor?

Nah, probably not.

It was more like my brain having mercy on me because that dream I was having was really fucked up.  It seemed as if it lasted for hours, and had me feeling all types of emotions from horny to surprised to confused!

Here’s the abridged version:

It  was myself  and one of the hangovers, having a potluck style dinner in the living room, on the floor at that with candles. I guess that was the mood lighting?  We are feeding each other (more like forcing food) then the two of us sneak off to the back bedroom.  Why are we sneaking?  Well, because someone’s Mother was in the room next door. Ooh yeah, this was a sophisticated encounter for sure.

I remember talking dirty to him and he was really feeling the moment, but then I must have said a buzz word that translated into “Get her!” and the dude went berserk!   I mean really changed into Mr. Hyde himself because soon after,  some truly kinky and sadistic shit started happening.

Before you start shaking your head, I know I’m not alone in having sexually charged dreams nor am I alone for trying to guess what this all means.  Waking up checking your mouth, neck, butt and knees for bruising and scars isn’t right.  Process all of that however you want.

So… I either need to take a break from the third installment of “Fifty Shades or Grey”,  my brain is confused between a wet dream and a sexual warning OR this is a sign that a man I’m dealing with has a different side to him.

The kicker is that it was the words spewing out of the mouth of this hangover that stood out the most- “You shouldn’t have gotten rid of those other ones because now you have me, and I’m far worse”.


I could pretend that I did absolutely nothing to pull the triggers that activate dreams, but there was a little thought that crossed mind- the infamous “What if…”

Those types of musings should be avoided at all costs, because the likely result is going to be disappointment about what you did or didn’t do with someone you dated in the past, but we still do it.

So, a couple of days ago a few of the hangovers from my past, including some men from way back when crossed mind,  which likely this explains the strange dream/nightmare described above.  As a result of my “what ifs” I did something completely out of character and actually reached out to one- Hope.

I liked him, I can’t front.

A quick checking in message and soon after, he has planned a dinner date.  That’s about all that is being expected because as one of my readers mentioned months ago, just because a man isn’t good relationship potential doesn’t mean he can’t be in my life if he’s enjoyable.

Bottom line is this- our minds have the amazing ability to deliver messages in the form of a dream. This instance is just a matter of figuring out if the subliminal message is (1) I should have stuck it out with someone from the past who had flaws or some undesirable traits or (2) continue taking risks with new prospects with the possibility of having a nipple chewed off.

Pick your poison.

Until there’s a cure for the dating hangovers…

Carmen Jones

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The Importance of Stretching

I just returned to work from a last minute, and very much needed doctor appointment.  In exchange for a $10 co-pay, twenty minutes of waiting, an assistant who couldn’t stop gushing about how much he lovvvved my name, and a doctor who kept using Kobe Bryant analogies?

A diagnosis of thigh or abductor tendonitis, two prescriptions for a muscle relaxer and inflammation and the following post-visit instructions:

Exercise Prescription for Healthy Adults

– Warm up
– Do your aerobic workout
– Stretch after your aerobic workout
– Cool down
– Invest in equipment
– When ready to increase exercise, increase by 10% from previous workouts

I’m silently dying inside, trying not to pee on myself and I’m sure you’re wondering what the hell any of this has to do with dating or a hangover.


About a week or so ago I began noticing a little twinge of pain in my groin area.  Since I’ve been on a bit of a hiatus from working out and hadn’t fallen or anything, I was stumped as to what it was from.  Then a few nights ago while talking to Hope, I joked that I may have pulled a muscle or something when he was uh… indulging in a little meal.

Several days later, the twinge turned to pain if. I moved a certain way then moved to my thigh and hip and I’ll be damned, on Sunday while Hope and I were out, it intensified.  So bad to the point of me limping a bit to take some of the pressure off of my right side.

Last evening, I was planning on walking with a friend but when I experienced several instances at work of standing and damn near collapsing, I nixed that idea and tried stretching a little.  Once I tried the knee-to-chest stretch, the location of the pain was found and then it dawned on me- it WAS the Hope experience!!!

When I say that night was a marathon of him pleasuring me, I mean it.  Climax after climax until finally, I literally tapped out by pounding on my sofa because I was dehydrated and my legs were cramping. I guess I was either tensing up too much before each explosion or needed to stretch.  Is this considered getting injured on the job?

Needless to say, when pain gets serious enough to affect your mobility,  off to the doctor you go.  So knowing this, just imagine my attempts to explain to the assistant and then the doctor what happened to cause all of this.

I told them “I was doing the knee-to-chest stretch and must have overdid it” and just about died when the doctor said not to act like Kobe.  He told me “Kobe goes hard, he’s experienced and has been playing and stretching for years.   You can take your time and not stretch as hard, you keeping your legs that way so long can injure yourself.”

Who thinks about stretching before foreplay or sex?   But hey, at least I can say it was worth it and will refer to those helpful tips above.

Don’t judge, it’s my life.

Carmen Jones

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