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I’ve had many emails asking how to successfully approach other swingers. The answer isn’t the same for everyone. Approaching a stranger for sex is awkward at best, let alone incredibly intimidating. What if they say no? What if they don’t like you? How do you know if they like you? Read the rest of this entry »
I’ve schooled you in what constitutes an affair. I’ve listed the rules of having an affair and where to look for a discrete hook-up. Now I’ll tell you how to save money in your search for that NSA(no strings attached) fuck.
Ashleymadison is a website revered for finding discrete hook-ups. Currently the site is running a promotion that puts a spin on the government program, Cash for Clunkers. Their promotion, Cash for Chunkers, saying, “is being married to a chunker weighing you down?” Read the rest of this entry »
After reading Dirty Talk 101 and Dirty Talk 201, you’re ready to turn the heat up.
I’ll admit that a few times while working on a chat line, the caller would actually turn me on with vivid details of what he looked like, at least in both of our minds. I’d react to his voice and start imagining myself what it would be like to fuck him. Men like these made me enjoy talking dirty and making callers cum with just my words. The excitement of making a man with just your voice is orgasmic. When done right, the rush is orgasmic!!
(language below NSFW)
People never cease to amaze me when pushing their bodies’ artistic boundaries. I thought I was daring when I got my nose pierced. I was in Amsterdam at the time, high on mushrooms, and I thought that a piece of metal in my nose was just what I needed. I’m usually too much of a pussy for shit like this, but some people get off on this kind of pain. Below, I’ve included some of the most piercing pictures of painful piercings. I can’t even imagine how these people felt during their artistic voyage of self discovery! My own story of getting my face pierced went a something like this:
After years of dating and love affairs, I’ve realized that men fall into 2 categories: the kind who treat women like they have “Kryptonite Pussies” and the kind who treat women like they have “Crack Pussies.” I came to this understanding one morning when I walked into the office and proudly announced, “My Pussy is Crack!!”
My boss choked on air but my female coworkers seemed less surprised. Read the rest of this entry »
That was one question I asked myself after an incident a few years ago. I met a man in his mid 30s at a bar in South Tampa. He was a well-dressed Italian man with a nice athletic build. We exchanged numbers and that was that. I left the bar and forgot about even giving my number away.
The following week I get a text asking to hang out. I figured what the hell, I’m the adventurous type — why not see what happens. I was a little bit horny anyway, but figured I could probably control myself.
I get over to his place, played with his cute little dog, watched some baseball, and sipped a cran and vodka. We both got a few drinks in us.
Read below the jump for the rest [probably NSFW]:
As the hunt for my next fuck-buddy continues, I’ve expanded my search parameters and raised my age limit. At least I tried to.
When I was younger I vowed I wouldn’t date anyone more than eight years older than me, but as I grew up, my lovers and boyfriends got progressively younger. To be honest, I hadn’t even thought about dating older men until the other night. Read the rest of this entry »
Their dingy, third-floor attic apartment smelled like cigarettes and sexual hysteria. I’d gotten lost on my way over, had somehow found the right street name in the wrong town. Calling from a borrowed cell phone at a Domino’s, I listened to the woman I’d soon be fucking give me impatient directions.
It was a cold night, and I almost turned back. Their place was just off the ocean. Once I got there, the first thing the woman did was place my hands under her sweater onto her floppy tits so I could “warm them up.” My hands, she meant.
Something was wrong with the couple. They alternated between cooing and viciously attacking each other. The atmosphere was toxic, dangerous, with everything on near tilt. The ceiling came at you from strange angles, eating up the space; it was hard to breathe.
After they left her tits, the woman commented on how beautiful my hands were.
“Look at his hands, hon. Like an artist’s.”
The guy lit a cigarette and narrowed his eyes at her.
“In a minute, this asshole is going to totally humiliate me with the size of his dick. You have to praise his hands too? You have to take everything away from me?”
“You don’t want me to take big dicks, baby? You don’t want to see his dick in my pussy?”
That seemed ugly. The guy looked down silently.
“Then shut the fuck up.”
She turned to me.
Here’s the second installment of Michael Troy’s new blog. (Check out Vol. 1.)
Suicide Betty, who we called Miami Betty until she killed herself, was a young woman whose life had been filled with bad luck. She was a beauty — part Seminole Indian, part Cuban, part white trash — who already looked considerably older than her 22 years.
She’d grown up in foster homes around the Miami area. Her foster parents, men and women alike, had spent most of the time that Betty was in their care fucking her and then beating her up, or beating her up and then fucking her.
She would run away constantly. On the streets, she’d turn tricks or sell drugs. Much of her time was spent at Miami-Dade Women’s Correctional Facility. But it didn’t matter what city she took off to; wherever she went she had a near genius for finding the worst part of town, turning the wrong trick, and winding up busted.
During her time in prison she grew to mistrust men and to rely on women. Betty wasn’t big or tough. Her only hope for survival was in being adopted by the roughest of the older prison dykes and the most hooked-up of the guards.
I’ve been single now for six weeks and I need sex. I’m used to getting sex everyday, sometimes twice a day. 
Hey, my ex may have been a big asshole, but he was hot and great in the sack when or wherever the urge struck us. Now that he’s gone, I’ve had to break out the glasscock a lot more than normal.
For anyone who has never tried a glass blown dildo, I highly recommend it. The beauty of the glasscock is that it’s always hard, you can heat it up by boiling it or cool it down by putting it into the freezer. Cleaning it is a breeze, stick it in your dishwasher or wash it by hand. It’s by far the safest material to use for sex play since you can wash the funk off and it’s safe to use for the next time or person, whatever you’re into.
But as much as I enjoy the glasscock, I crave a man’s touch. Read the rest of this entry »
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