Baby Steps to Build Trust

Since Roid Douche, anal sex was off the table. I couldn’t bring myself to be comfortable with the idea of letting any guy penetrate my ass again. It took a lot of time and trust for me to even allow any light anal play from my next serious boyfriend, The Man Child (who I dated for six years). In those six years, he asked about anal from time to time because it was something he wanted to try with me, and I kept turning him down. He’d ask why I didn’t want to try it, I explained I’ve tried it before with Roid Douche, but didn’t like it. I didn’t inform him of the rape at that time.

Over the first few years of dating, as The Man Child tried to ease me into the idea by incorporating light anal play from time to time into our sex, he brought it up again, asking if anal sex would ever be on the table. I then explained what had happened with Roid Douche. We had a lengthy conversation that involved me crying about it, him consoling me, and him saying that he’d kick Roid Douche’s ass if he ever came across him. He also threw out there that if anal sex was ever something I would want to try again, he’d obviously be down, but understood why I haven’t wanted to all these years so far.

The Man Child stopped asking about anal since I told him about what happened with Roid Douche, but he still tried to incorporate anal play in our sex. I knew he was secretly hoping he could get me interested in anal. I enjoyed a finger and some ass eating every once in a while, but I was unsure if I was capable of enjoying a cock. I was conflicted. I felt some sort of pleasure from the stimulation of anal play, but I got anxiety thinking about anal sex. I wanted to try it again, but I also didn’t want to relive my experience.

Eventually, probably about four years into dating The Man Child, almost five years after the Roid Douche incident, I told The Man Child I wanted to try anal. He was ecstatic. He did everything right. He incorporated lots of foreplay and oral and warmed me up for anal with some analingus and fingering my ass. He got the lube out and prepped my ass and his dick. He told me he’d go extra slow and all I needed to do was relax.

He got his dick in about an inch and my anxiety kicked in, I started to clench my ass and it started to hurt, and I freaked out, and told him to stop. I teared up and shut down. The Man Child was a bit frustrated, but understanding of the circumstances. He held me, and comforted me, and tried to ease my anxieties. We tried one more time since then, but same thing happened. I couldn’t go through with it and he was ok with not trying anal ever again.


After I broke up with The Man Child, almost three years ago now, I have slept with a lot of guys. Many guys have asked about anal, I tell them it’s not happening because I’ve tried and don’t like it. Every once in a while, a guy will slip a finger in or try to lick my ass and if I show any amount of enjoyment, they push for anal sex. I refrained from telling them what had happened with Roid Douche, but I explain to them that licking and fingering an ass is completely different than having a dick fuck your ass. I say something like, “A finger is much smaller than your dick, I’m ok with and enjoy a finger from time to time, but a dick is a no go. I’ve tried it and don’t like it.” And some of them push it and some of them let it go, but I stayed consistent with my word and wasn’t trying it again.

About a year ago, there was a moment of pure bliss I felt when a guy was eating my pussy and fingering my ass and vagina at the same time. The orgasm was intense and I wanted to recreate that feeling. I bought a small vibe for my ass, not much thicker than a finger, and began incorporating that into my masturbation. Shortly after that, I bought some gradual anal beads, the largest bead was about two fingers thick, and played with those by myself and introduced them with some guys to add to our toy fun.

And then Neighbor Boy came along. He had a good amount of persistence when discussing what is okay under our terms of sexual agreement. He’d push for cumming in my mouth and no condom use, both no goes. He pushed for photos and video, shot down. He pushed for anal, I turned him down. I explained to him that a lot of those things are not for guys I’m just fucking. I have to trust someone before I allow for them to cum in my mouth or go condomless, get photos or video, or before we could even put anal on the table. He then asked how he could build that trust with me. I told him it would take time, communication, and also an eagerness to please me extra in the bedroom.

In those early months of our arrangement, we talked most days and had lengthy conversations about sex, our likes and dislikes, our experiences, our desires, and we communicated when we’re sleeping with other people. We were 100% honest and upfront to one another. He made it a point every time we fucked to try to make sure I was pleased with our sex and we would have discussions usually the day after about it, he’d ask what I enjoyed about it and if there was anything he could have done differently. He took my directions and our sex kept getting better and better.

Over those months, he worked for it. He was eager to build that trust with me so he could get to cum in my mouth, get photos and video, and get anal sex. He was doing a pretty damn good job at it too. The more eager he was to please me and the more effort he put in, the more eager I was to please back. I let him cum in my mouth; something very few guys get to do because I have an aversion to cum. I sent him photos from time to time; I don’t send nudes to most guys, another Roid Douche story behind that one. And then anal… well he still wasn’t getting anal.

We discussed anal sex time and time again, and I told him I’ve tried forever ago but wasn’t into it, but I didn’t tell him about Roid Douche. He then brought up the anal beads and how I like those, and I explained that those are still smaller than a cock, so it wasn’t quite the same still. He kept telling me how he’d make sure I was enjoying it, and I wanted to try, but I still had this intense hesitation.

That’s when I decided to order a large Njoy butt plug. Larger circumference than the anal beads, but still smaller than his dick girth, it would be a good stepping stone to add to our sex to get me more at ease with anal. When it arrived, I kind of got giddy. It was a new toy to play with and I was excited to try it out. Neighbor Boy and I were already planning on hanging out that evening, so I told him I had a surprise for him. When he came up that evening, I unboxed the shiny new toy. I was turned on just by the idea of trying it out.


Keeping it bed side, he got me warmed up. We made out, he worked his way down my neck to my nipples, to my clit with his tongue. He ate me a good while and got my vibe out, getting me extra worked up, and when I was nice and soaking wet, he grabbed the plug. Lubing it up, he inserted it slowly into my ass. A slight tinge of pain hit me, but after the head was inserted, it was all pleasure. He went back to eating me and playing with the butt plug.

I was really enjoying the feeling of the butt plug, but at the same time, I kept getting in my head too much. The pleasure was great, but it was difficult to fully let loose. I repositioned myself and he presented me with his throbbing cock. I took it in my mouth and blew him while I held a vibe to my clit and he played with the butt plug. The vibe and plug sensation while simultaneously blowing him got me extra hot. Soon enough, I was cumming from the combination and trying to keep his dick in my mouth as my body unleashed an intense simultaneous anal/clit orgasm.

Shortly after I came, he grabbed a condom and began to fuck me, butt plug still in. I was double filled and loving it, but it was almost too much. I was still fresh from the recent orgasm and now the butt plug was becoming uncomfortable. Not long of this and I had him stop so I could remove the plug, and got back to fucking.

The next morning, he asked about my thoughts on the butt plug and what I liked and disliked about it. He wanted to know what was working and not working so he could take that into consideration moving forward. I like that about him, he actually asks questions and makes sure what he’s doing is good for me. He doesn’t assume that everything he’s doing works, he wants to learn about what gets me going and wants to make sure I’m enjoying myself.

Since then, Neighbor Boy, although he has been insistent on using the butt plug from time to time to warm me up to anal, didn’t push anal sex any more. He knew that in time, if I wanted anal, I would make it happen. As I told him, baby steps to ease me into it and to build trust and eventually anal might be possible.

Trust, communication, and an eagerness to please are all important elements in any relationship.

Yours Truly,
Kallie Pygus


*** Note: in case you’re wondering timeline, I got the Njoy butt plug about 10 days before I got my Triangle Piercing, so sex and oral were still ok.


Roid Douche: A prick from 10 years ago…

To understand what’s to come, I need to fill you in more on my past. A little over ten years ago, I was dating Roid Douche. When I met him, I was lured in by his muscular build, badass demeanor, and found his sarcastic ass remarks comedic. Over time I realized he wasn’t what I painted him to be and he was really just a fucking prick that I was enamored with because of teenage hormones.

Perhaps one day I will tell the full story of how I met him and the ups and downs, but for now, I’m only filling you in on how he has impacted me to this day and how recent events brought memories of Roid Douche back.

We had been dating a few months. We had been saying “I love you.” We spent as much time together as possible. We were inseparable. That’s how it started, but really my perception was skewed by hormones and infatuation. He was the jealous type. He was controlling. He was manipulative. He was a bipolar mess of rage.

Let’s focus on the manipulative and rage aspect for now; I will go in depth another time about the rest. A few months in, a couple weeks of “I love you” later, and still no sex to be had, he started to threaten to break up with me because I was too prude to fuck him. He started to show his true self, but I was in love and didn’t see it. He kept pushing the “I love you” card trying to get me to spread my legs and I kept saying I wasn’t ready and he kept telling me he didn’t know how much longer he could wait.

For my sixteenth birthday, I convinced my mom to let me rent a few hotel rooms in the city for me and my friends with my sister and sister’s boyfriend as the chaperones. The plan was to go shopping with the girls and then meet up with the boyfriends and everyone else at the hotel to drink and party all night. While the girls and I shopped, we each found little black dresses to wear for the hotel party and got all primped and ready for the night.


We made our way back to the hotel, got started on the drinks, and the boyfriends and more followed soon after. We had all the boys drooling over our dolled up looks and little black dresses. Roid Douche couldn’t keep his hands off me. Maybe it was “love,” or maybe it was his possessive nature seeping out as there were other guys giving me hugs to wish me a happy birthday.

A few drinks in, the party hardly started, and Roid Douche was getting anxious. His hormones caused him to become a raging mess and he became frustrated as I kept trying to hang out with everyone. It was my birthday party after all and I was the guest of honor, why would I leave the party early? He kept insisting, “Let’s go back to our hotel room to slip you out of that little black dress…” I kept denying him the pleasure.

He eventually got angry and walked out. I followed him to the hall. He threatened to leave. He said he thought he’d get some alone time with me in our hotel room, but I was too busy with everyone else. Obviously, the right response to this would have been to tell him to fuck off because it was my birthday and he could suck it, but instead, it turned into me tearing up and us fighting, and him apologizing, and then me finally agreeing to go to the room.

I went back into the room and said goodnight and thanks to a few people, then slipped back out to meet up with Roid Douche in our hotel room. It had two queen beds. We were to share it with my friend and her boyfriend but they were still back at the party. We quickly got to making out, feeling up, and stripping down.

He moved his way from my mouth to my neck down to my nipples and trailed his way to eat me. This was a first. We have made out, he has felt me up and fingered me, I have given him hand jobs, but oral wasn’t something we had done before. Even though there was all this begging and pleading for sex, eating me out was never on the table.

Tonight was different. He wanted to warm me up for sex. It was obvious. He was fine. It was nothing spectacular though; we were in high school and although he wasn’t a virgin, his lack of experience showed. Regardless, I was liking it enough. I laid back and closed my eyes and was taking in every lick and kiss, but only a few minutes in and Roid Douche came up from between my legs all huffy, “What’s wrong? Are you even enjoying this? You aren’t cumming yet!” As if I did something wrong. As if I was broken. As if I was incapable of being pleasured by his almighty tongue.

Trying to calm him, I pulled him in to kiss him and tell him I liked it. Instead of him going back down to keep eating me, we began making out and then he pushed to get his dick wet. I denied him. The brief moment of calm was overruled again by anger. I couldn’t win. He threatened to leave again and I cried and we fought. Finally, I convinced him to stay because it was my birthday and it was 3am and there was no way for him to get home. He agreed but said he was having his dad pick him up first thing in the morning. We went to bed with him angry and me upset and hardly spoke the next morning. He left as he said he would.

As he got up and left early the next morning, my friend and her boyfriend (who must have slipped into the room sometime recently) woke up still very drunk. “Why is he leaving?” my girl asked. I told her he had a family emergency and that his dad came to pick him up. She tried to pry because I was obviously upset, but I tried to play it off as a headache from being hungover. We all fell back asleep and nothing more was said.

After a few days of apologies and I love you’s, we made up and were back to normal. And a few more days after that, I caved. I thought I loved him. I thought that maybe all this tension and anger was from us not having sex. I let him take my virginity, on the beige pleather couch, in his garage (aka his man cave), in the dead of winter, freezing cold.


He kissed me briefly, hardly any warming up or foreplay, grabbed a condom, spit on his hand to rub it on his dick, laid on me missionary style, and pushed his cock into my tight vagina. I laid there, staring up at the ceiling over his shoulder, trying to get my mind off the pain and hoping for it to end soon. A few minutes of him gyrating on top of me, he came. After he finished, he pulled his cock out of me and realized among the bloody mess from my torn hymen that the condom broke. Just my luck. First time in and I already have a broken condom story…. two plan B pills and week or so later, sex became more and more regular in our fucked up love story.

A few months later, all the sex, and oral, and exploring of some basic kinks and fetishes, the fighting never stopped and his bipolar roid rage continued. He kept finding things to threaten to leave me over and kept using how much he loved me to get me back. The newest thing he was pushing was anal. He wanted that new tight thing to de-virgin and my ass was calling his name.

He pushed and I told him no. He told me how much he loved me and if I loved him I would give it to him. I still told him no. He continued to push and threatened to leave because I didn’t love him if I didn’t do it. I didn’t want to lose him. We were in love. I was blind. All I could see was the drops of good moments in a vast sea of abusive misconduct.

I caved. I bent over that same beige couch in his garage, presenting him with my ass as he demanded. He spat on his hand, rubbed his cock, and penetrated my ass. Only one thrust in and I was in too much pain to let it keep going. I wailed an ouch in pain pushing him off me. I pissed off the beast, “What? You let me get started and can’t even let me finish?”

I tried to tell him it hurt and I didn’t want to keep going. He was still angry. “Just let me finish, I will do it slowly. It won’t take long, your ass is so tight.” He pushed me back on the couch, spit some more on his dick, pinned me down and shoved his cock in me and pushed in and out slowly like he said he would. That didn’t help ease the pain. Even as I said stop and no, and as tears ran down my face, and tried to push back, he was too strong, he held me down and he continued to fuck my ass until he came in me. He then pulled out and wiped his dick off.

Still crying, hurt, and shaking, I laid there on the couch withdrawn from Roid Douche. He quickly came to my rescue, wiped my tears with his hands, kissed me, held me, and apologized while simultaneously saying it was my fault he got so wound up and that he loved me and didn’t mean to hurt me and that it wouldn’t happen again.

I should have left him long ago. I should have never let it go as long as I did. I should have never dated him in the first place. I wish I would have seen it sooner. I wish my teenage hormones and “love” wouldn’t have blinded me. If only I could go back and undo the day I met him, I could avoid giving the manipulative prick my virginity. I could have avoided him manipulating me into anal and avoided the continued anal rape.

From the outside, it was obvious to many of my friends and family that the relationship wasn’t healthy, but no one knew how extremely fucked up it was. I hid how shitty he truly was. I loved him. I didn’t want to lose him. I stayed with him for way too long, and 13 months in, I finally got the courage to end things.

I’ve only told a few people about what happened behind the scenes of our fucked up relationship, now whoever is reading this is part of that small few who know. At least you get the gist of things based off those few instances of emotional and sexual abuse, now multiply that by 13 months. Maybe I will fill you in more later, but those details are necessary puzzle pieces before I tell you more about recent events.

Now that the seal on all the feels has been unleashed, there will be more to pour out soon. Until next time…

Yours Truly,
Kallie Pygus

Capture the Flag Boy and MIA Texts #2

May 13th I got a text from Caden aka Capture the Flag Boy. The last time I heard from him, he was trying to hang out Valentine’s Day, then before that, it was December. In today’s casual hookup culture, people come and go. One second, you’re hanging out regularly, the next, the person is MIA and suddenly reappears months later. This is post two of five about Capture the Flag Boy and MIA Texts.

Capture the Flag Boy and MIA Texts #2

After the first date (see Capture the Flag Boy and MIA Texts #1), we texted back and forth for a few weeks trying to make plans to hang out again, but our schedules never aligned. We both eventually gave up and I almost totally forgot about him, that is, until a month later. Capture the Flag Boy added me on Facebook about a month after we stopped texting each other.

I was a bit thrown off. Generally I don’t add guys on Facebook I’ve only been on one date with, especially if we met online. I accepted it, then texted him to sarcastically question the befriending. We then caught up via text and he told me he was volunteering as a stage hand for a theatre and offered me free tickets to the show. I accepted and gave him a date for the show a couple weeks later.

The night before the show, my roommate Andy had a friend over photographing him. I have a bit of photography experience myself, so when I saw the strobe in Andy’s room, I was eager to see what was going on. I watched as they finished up their shoot, then I went and sat to do some work in the living room. Once they tore down the lighting, Andy was getting dressed for them to go out that evening. His friend, David, came out and introduced himself. David is about 5’9″, much shorter than I usually go for, but still taller than me. He’s got freckles, light brown eyes, brown hair, and perfect teeth with a great smile. Very sweet and boyish features.

David told me about his experience as a photographer and how he went to college with Andy. We got talking about all things photo and the conversation was flawlessly smooth. We instantly became comfortable with one another. As Andy came out and saw us talking, he interrupted and said I should come out to the bars with them. I agreed, got dressed, and we all headed out.

Andy was DJing a set at the first bar of the evening, so when we arrived, he went to the DJ booth and David and I were left alone at the table together. We got chatting again and naturally fell into light, flirty conversation. I was trying to be supportive of Andy as he was DJing, but was so distracted by David. When Andy came down from the booth, David and I both congratulated Andy, and Andy stole David away from me for a smoke.


When they came back, Andy said we should all go dancing. I agreed and we were off to the next bar. We walked in, David asked what I wanted to drink and he made his way to the bar as Andy and I made our way to the back dancing area. Andy told me that David liked me, which was obvious. He then proceeded to tell me how good of a guy he is. Caveat, David doesn’t live in Chicago. I didn’t care, I really liked him.

David came bearing drinks. We sat on the couches in the back of the club and sipped and chatted some more. David now sitting right next to me, he put his hand on my thigh, gently rubbing it. He was sweet, but obviously nervous. It seemed like he was unsure of how to navigate the scenario.

Several of our friends showed up. I got up and gave hugs, and then they pulled me to the dance floor. I looked at David and did a come hither finger motion. He followed us to the dance floor. It was soul night, so it was lighter and more harmless than a night of grinding at the club. David and I danced and laughed and danced some more. It was a 4am bar and we didn’t realize the time till lights went up and it was last call.

Andy, David, and I waved down a cab and went home. David, who was planning on crashing on a couch, asked if he could crash on my bed. He said that we didn’t need to have sex or anything, he just wanted something more comfortable than a couch. I laughed and told him of course, I was already planning on having him sleep in my bed.

We got home and I took him straight to my room. I got down to my tank top and underwear and he stripped down to his boxers. We hadn’t kissed or anything at this point, but we were already half naked. I climbed into bed. He followed. We laid there and started talking. If all the talking and dancing wasn’t enough, we continued. After about another hour of talking, he finally made his move and kissed me. We ended up making out for a while and pausing every once in a while to chat more. There was some feeling each other up, but he was very hesitant with every little thing he did. I wanted to sleep with him, but I was also kind of liking the slow pace he was setting.

After a couple hours of this, we realized it was 7am and he had to wake up by 10am. He spooned me and we cuddled then next three hours until his alarm went off. The next morning, we ate breakfast, he said his good bye and told me if I was ever near him in Bloomington, I should call him. He had one more night in Chicago, but already had plans with another friend.

I went back to bed and then several hours later woke up to get ready for the theatre. I brought my friend Geoffrey to the show. It was a hot summer day, I dressed up in a sexy short black, red, and white paisley dress and black wedges. We arrived, got our tickets from will call and found our seats. There was absolutely no cell phone reception in the theatre, so I couldn’t text Caden to thank him and say that we made it, but he found us anyways. He was up in the balcony so he yelled down to say hi. Oh my god, I forgot how sexy his smile was. He black and puerto rican mixed, long maintained dreads, angular facial features, tall, fit, and great eyes.

During intermission, Geoffrey and I went outside to chat and so he could smoke a cigarette. I told Geoffrey everything about David and Caden. I explained I just met David last night, but kind of wanted to see if him and his friend wanted to meet us for drinks, but I also wanted to tell Caden he should join us as a thank you for the tickets. Geoffrey helped me and said I should text David and see what he says because he only has one night left and if he can’t I can then tell Caden. This seemed like a great idea, so I texted David.

We then went back into the receptionless theatre and watched the 2nd half of the show. When the show ended, Geoffrey and I made our way out, but Caden stopped us along the way. We thanked him, I introduced Geoffrey to him, and said I would be right back with them so I could step out to the bathroom to check my phone. Once in the bathroom, I tried checking my phone, but because of the lack of cell reception, there was nothing. I went back out to the boys. Caden was kind of lingering, I then thanked him again and told him we should get drinks sometime next week because I had a friend in town that night and already had plans with him, hoping that David would still message me. We said our goodbyes and Geoffrey and I walked out.


As soon as we got out of the theatre, I got the text. David wasn’t able to make it out that night. I blew off Caden with hope of seeing David, but that failed. I was bummed, but then went and danced my sorrows away in Boystown with Geoffrey.

After that night, Caden disappeared yet again for another month… a recurring theme with Capture the Flag Boy. Boys that go MIA instantly fall into the red flag category, yet for some reason he still had me intrigued.

Yours Truly,
Kallie Pygus

Capture the Flag Boy and MIA Texts #1

Last night I got a text from Caden aka Capture the Flag Boy. The last time I heard from him, he was trying to hang out Valentine’s Day, then before that, it was December. In today’s casual hookup culture, people come and go. One second, you’re hanging out regularly, the next, the person is MIA and suddenly reappears months later. This is post one of five about Capture the Flag Boy and MIA Texts.

Capture the Flag Boy and MIA Texts #1

Let’s back up. I met Capture the Flag Boy on OKC in April 2015. His introduction was just a “Hi :)” which I usually don’t respond to, but I made an exception for him. He was tall, dark, handsome, with a great smile. We messaged only a few messages before he asked for my number. Once again, I usually don’t give my number right away, but I made another exception for him.

As we texted, he asked what my ideal first date is. I told him anything but the typical first date drinks/dinner and the first date interview process. I prefer something where we can be actively doing something fun. With this insight, he proposed a photo scavenger hunt of sorts at the Art Institute. We were to both show up independently and send each other photos of the art around us as clues to help us find one another. Well he wanted to do this on a Thursday evening, but I work Thursday evenings. There wasn’t another day that worked for either of us so we scratched that idea, although I was impressed with his creativity.


Because his idea was great, but flawed in the timing, he said it’s my turn to come up with something. We were both free that coming Friday, which just so happened to be the Pilsen Art Walk, which was perfect to keep the art theme consistent, but with a twist. My idea, we would both meet up at the Pilsen Art Walk and play a game of one on one capture the flag.

On Friday, we met in front of the main building of the Pilsen Art Walk to discuss rules. The rules we made up for one on one capture the flag:

• We were to stay in the main building
• We start at the same place, but the first 2 minutes is hiding/separation time
• The flag must be visible and removable by a swift tug
• Studios and galleries are safety zones, walking only, no capturing of flags
• Hallways were war zones, chasing/hiding/running/capturing of flags permitted
• Once you capture a flag, it must be placed where it’s visible and easily removable
• Capturing the flag back once it was taken is allowed
• To win, you must exit the front door of the building with both flags
• Best 2 out of 3 wins, loser buys drinks

We each put our bandanas in our back pockets and the games began.


Round one, we went our separate ways and found each other pretty quick in one of the galleries. We mingled, I told him about the art, but then he ran for his escape. I bolted in the other direction to hide. After several minutes of chasing, hiding, and playfully trying to capture the flag while almost groping each other, he cornered me on the first floor. I was screwed. I tried reaching for his flag, he turned, I left myself open as I was reaching, he spun, blocked his flag with one hand and grabbed my flag with his other hand. He ran, but in the wrong direction. He put my flag in his back pocket, but kept running without guarding them. I swiped them and booked it in the other direction making it out the front door. After making it out, Caden claimed the only reason I won is because I had the advantage of having been there before. He wasn’t wrong.

Round two, I tried a new strategy. I found a reflective window around the corner and the hall on the third floor. I was in plain sight. I stood there looking out the window, while really watching the reflections, waiting for him to walk up behind me. Nearly five minutes passed and he still hasn’t found me, or so I thought. I went to go look for him, but stupid me, I didn’t approach the corner carefully enough. He was standing there waiting for me to move. I must have missed see him spot me. He grabbed my flag and booked it. I chased him down the stairs and we nearly knocked several people down, spilling one of their drinks. Apologetically, I stopped, Caden kept running. He won round two. We were now tied.

Round three, everything was on the line. This determined the winner and both of us were being extra competitive. We both kicked up our game and slid in and out of galleries, chasing and hiding and laughing. It was beginning to get crowded. It made it more difficult for us to playfully attack each other for our flags. After dodging people all the way down the stairs, we corned each other and started to walk in circles like we were about to brawl. He swung and missed as he reached for my flag. I went in with a right hook to grab his but he spun the other direction. We kept spinning and circling and grabbing without success. It became a dance. As more and more people crowded the space, he surrendered. He was concerned that it was no longer safe. He gave me his flag and I ran out the front door. He followed close behind me. I bragged, and he gave me a congrats.

After his congratulations there was a pause. All I wanted from him was for him to kiss me at that moment, but it didn’t happen. All this sexual tension was built from us chasing each other and then there was a perfect opening and he didn’t take it. Fail. Once the pause became slightly awkward, he asked where we should go for drinks. We went to Simone’s, ordered our drinks, then the interview process of the first date began, but it was light hearted because we broke the ice with our game of capture the flag.

A few drinks later, I realized the time and said I had to get home. I had to wake up in about six hours to go to work and I was exhausted from running around. I told him where I was headed, he realized we lived nearby each other, we both caught the Ashland bus back towards Lakeview. We talked the whole way, his stop came first, he said bye and we went our separate ways. Even though we didn’t kiss, there was still this spark from the date. I had a really good time with him. It was by far the most memorable first date I have ever had.

We texted back and forth for the rest of the month trying to make plans, but it never panned out. I gave up and eventually forgot about Capture the Flag Boy… that is, until the next time I heard from him a month later.

Yours Truly,
Kallie Pygus

Doodling and Stalking

Doodling your crushes name a million times is the childhood equivalent to facebook/social media stalking your crush. Think back to when you were a kid. I remember being in elementary school when I would write my crushes’ names with hearts and writing in my diary about them all the time. It was obsessive. What drives us to do this?


His name was Jeremy. I’ve known him since preschool. Suddenly, in 2nd grade, he was the only thing I could think about. My best friend Kelsey had also developed a crush on Jacob. We both thought it was serendipitous that our initials for our crushes and us matched so we both wrote just the first initials “K+J” in all our notes and hearts to be more secretive.

When I would spend the night at Kelsey’s, there were many hours spent just talking about Jeremy and Jacob while simultaneously doodling away “K+J 4Ever,””Mr. & Mrs. K + J,”etc. We would then stash these doodles and notes in a box that was put under her bed.

At Kelsey’s birthday party, all of the 2nd grade was invited to her place. There was a bouncy house, games to play, and a coloring table with both coloring books and scrap paper. Well I guess some of our doodles didn’t make it into the box because somehow a few of them ended up in the pile of scrap paper. This boy named Brandon found it, and because it was at Kelsey’s place, he announced that Kelsey has a crush on someone with the letter J.

I was relieved that he didn’t assume it was me, but Kelsey was mortified. We were still at the age where boys and girls thought it was gross if someone liked you, but at the same time we were all starting to slowly develop crushes.

I lived in a small town, so there were only about 30 kids in our grade. Surprisingly, though, there were four guys who had names that started with J. Jeremy, Jacob, James, and Joey. Although it was mortifying for Kelsey at the moment, nothing really came from it after that day. No one pried enough to figure out who she had a crush on and life went on.

Looking back at it though, if we were older, would the boys cared more to figure it out? Would it have worked in our advantage for our crushes to find out we liked them? At what point do you reveal to your crush that you like them?


I’m 27 now. Having a crush seems like a weird past time, but in reality, I get crushes all the time. I realize I have a crush (as in I like someone but nothing sexual/romantic has happened yet) on someone or that I actually have emotional feelings for someone I’m sleeping with when I start to pay attention to their Facebook. Not just in my news feed, but I will look them up and look at their photos and posts. The more I do this, the bigger the crush. I’ve recently wrote off boys emotionally, so suddenly, my social media use has dropped significantly. I’m not constantly checking my crushes’ statuses and recent photos. It is kind of a relief to stop thinking so much about boys.

However, during my break from boys, I’ve started to wonder if people should just be straight forward and let someone know that they like them. The worst that could happen is that they tell you they don’t have feelings back. On the flip side, they might feel the same way. I would save so much time and energy if I just asked out my crushes instead of waiting for them to possibly come to me. But then again, is that too forward? Why is it that women are to sit back and wait for the guys to chase them? Maybe once I’m done with my break, I will try to be more honest and forward instead of sitting back waiting for my crushes to chase me.

Just something I’ve been thinking about during this break.

Yours Truly,
Kallie Pygus

Cooties: the STI of the Playground

We’ve all been there. We have all been a child and have played hide-and-go-seek or tag or something on the playground with all your friends. Everyone is running around chasing one another, laughing, having a great time. Then there’s a shift in the game. Someone starts telling everyone that so-and-so has cooties. Now hide-and-go-seek becomes a game of avoid-the-cooties. A stigma is attached to cooties when you’re a kid. No one wants to be caught near the kid with cooties to prevent catching it.


When this started happening, I was baffled. There never seemed to be anything wrong with the people who caught cooties, they just suddenly had it. Confused about cooties, I asked my sisters one day after school. They laughed and told me that cooties weren’t real, just a made up disease kids use avoid the opposite sex.

The next day, when we were all let out for recess, a group of girls and I were on top of this climbing structure of the jungle gym gossiping about who had cooties. I thought this was absolutely ridiculous, especially after my sisters told me cooties were fake. I told the girls, “Cooties aren’t even real!”

One of them replied, “Yes they are! Have you seen Nathan lately? He’s covered in cooties!”

Aggravated, I climbed down and went to find Nathan. He was playing in the sandbox alone. As I approached, he said, “You might not want to get close to me, I have the cooties.”

I then told him, “It’s fine. Cooties aren’t even real. My sisters told me.”

He then said, “Are you sure?

I replied, “Even if they are real, you look fine to me.” Then an awesome idea came to mind and I then added, “Want to give everyone cooties? Tag me, then you and I can go chase everyone and spread our cooties to everyone.”

And that’s exactly what we did. At first, people were grossed out because we infected them, but soon enough, everyone was running around screaming and laughing. We eventually all had cooties. We all survived to tell the story.

Fast forward to adulthood, moral of the story…

I’m not trying to tell you to that if you or someone you knows has an STI you should contract it and try to spread it so everyone has it. That would be wrong. What I am trying to say is perhaps you should consider others’ feelings before telling everyone that someone has an STI. That is their private business. They don’t need the stigma to follow them everywhere they go. That, plus a lot of STIs are curable, and the ones that aren’t, many are still manageable.


If you’re sexually active, especially if you’re not in a monogamous relationship, get tested regularly and use protection y’all.

Yours Truly,
Kallie Pygus

The Quickest Strip Tease

My parents’ friends were going on a vacation for a week, so my parents agreed to watch their two sons Cory and Sam. I was probably six or seven years old and Cory was a year or two older than me. Even at such a young age, I clearly remember liking boys already. I had a huge crush on Cory and this week of him staying with my family was a dream come true, that is if I could get him to notice me.

Cory, Sam, and my two brothers Jack and Dylan were soaked into playing Super Nintendo for most the week. I tried to hang out with them, but they couldn’t be bothered with a girl wanting to play with the boys. It wasn’t fair.

Throughout the week, I tried to play video games, build legos, and shoot nurf guns with them to get Cory’s attention. My brothers kept telling me to leave them alone and I felt completely hurt. After days of this, I was fed up and started to scream at my brothers, “It’s not fair! I just want to play with you guys! Why can’t I play?”

To avoid getting into trouble with my parents, my older brother Dylan finally let me play some Super Mario Kart with them. I was terrible, but Cory laughed at me crashing all over the place. It might have worked a little, but he didn’t really seem interested in me, he was more entertained by how terrible I was at the game.


The week was almost ending and I had very little time to get Cory to like me, so I asked my older sisters Ashley and Sarah to help me, “How do I get a boy to like me?”

Both of them giggled, and Sarah said, “You like a boy? Who?”

“Cory, but he doesn’t even know I exist.” I replied.

Ashley reassured me, “Boys are dumb, they don’t know how to read those signs.”

“What can I do to get him to like me?” I asked.

Both of them whispered to one another, giggled, then Sarah said, “You just have to show him how much you like him and I’ve got just the secret tip to make it happen…” She paused.


“What do I need to do?”

Sarah whispered into my ear her secret tip. I then said, “I don’t know if I can do that.”

Ashley chimed in, “Oh, but he’ll love it. I promise.”

So that night, when I got out of the shower, I found the perfect opportunity to do the secret tip Sarah and Ashley told me. Cory was all alone in the living room playing Super Mario, so now was my chance to get him alone. I waltzed into the living room wrapped in only a towel and stood right in front of the TV.

“Move! I can’t see.” Cory demanded.

I then opened my towel and flashed my naked body to Cory. His jaw dropped. He was speechless. He didn’t say anything. There was an awkward pause and I didn’t know what else to do because my sisters said once I flashed him he’d be begging to be with me, but nothing. I quickly covered myself back up and ran up to my sisters’ bedroom crying.

“It didn’t work!” I was so upset that me flashing Cory didn’t work, that I didn’t realize that I should have been angry about my sisters pranking me. Ashley and Sarah comforted me saying that everything’s going to be ok.

The next day, Cory and Sam’s parents came and picked them up. Since then, I saw Cory a few times, it was terrible every time. Cory would make fun of me for getting naked in front of him, and then I would run off mad that he was making fun of me. A couple years later, my family and I moved away and I haven’t seen Cory since.

Since Cory, I have learned that getting naked, although can get instant results, might also be better to wait for after a date or two. Oops!

Signing off.

Yours Truly,
Kallie Pygus

French Kiss?

Sex, although a very adult action, is something in the back of people’s mind from an early age. We might not be aware of it, but a child’s curiosity inevitably leads to questions about sex.

Why do boys have wieners?

Where do babies come from?

Mom, why do you have hair there?

These are all questions I have asked my parents when I was a young child and it didn’t stop there. My questions went beyond asking my parents, as did the questions my peers had.

Growing up, my family was close with our neighbors. When my parents needed it, my neighbors would watch my siblings and I, and when the neighbors needed their kids watched, my parents would do the same. Between two houses and a duplex, there was 16 kids. It was great, we always had a blast playing together.

One moment I remember in particular was when my older sister Ashley, my neighbor Luke who was around my age, Luke’s older sister Hannah, and myself were watching TV. There was a kissing scene and after the kiss, the guy went to his friends to brag about it by saying, “I kissed her! Not even just a kiss, but a french kiss.”

Being only five years old at the time, I had no clue what a french kiss was, so the curious child that I was, I asked Ashley, “What’s a french kiss?”

Ashley’s response, “It’s kissing, but with tongue.”


The show continued. Luke and I were sitting on the floor waving our feet back and forth. His foot would hit mine, then I would hit his foot back. It was playful. Ashley and Hannah saw this and thought it was cute.

They chanted, “Luke and Kallie sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G…”

“Stop!” I yelled, annoyed that they were making fun of us.

Our sisters giggled and stopped chanting. Luke and I stopped waving our feet and even put space between us. We continued watching the rest of the show. Then our sisters left to go do whatever it is they were doing, leaving Luke and I alone in the living room.

After several minutes passed, Luke broke the silence and asked me,  “Do you want to kiss me?”

“No,” I exclaimed. “Do you want to kiss me?”

There was a pause. Luke then asked, “Do you want to try it?”

I hesitated, then one upped him, “Want to try a french kiss?”

He agreed, then after a bit of deliberating, we decided the right way to french kiss was to count to three then stick our tongues out and touch our tongues together.


We simultaneously counted “One – Two – Three” and both of us stuck our tongues out and touched just the tips together. We both jumped back, scrunching our faces, completely grossed out by  our tongues touching one another. He spit from disgust, I grabbed my juice box and chugged it to wash out the taste of our french kiss.

Whether I knew it or not at the time, my curiosity about sex was blossoming at age five. I might not have been mature enough to know what sex is, but I wanted to know things. Sex is something I have always been intrigued by.

Until next time…


Yours Truly,
Kallie Pygus