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Archive for May, 2011

I feel strange recounting this story. At first, I didn’t want to do it, but my  therapist suggested that I write an account of my early childhood, thinking that  it might help me with my emotional problems. Although, I’m an adult woman now, I  still have unusual sexual fantasies that I can’t let go of. And I’m not even  sure that I want to be rid of them. Actually, my name isn’t Amy, but I decided  to use an alias because I fear people might find out who I really am.

I had my first sexual feeling when I was nine years old. I remember riding on a  see-saw with my best friend Judy and feeling a kind of ‘itch’ between my legs.  It was a good itch, and I wanted to rub it to make it feel better. But being a  girl, I was taught that touching “down there” was a naughty thing to do. I kept  my feeling a secret from everyone, even Judy. At night, I would lie in bed and  crumple the sheets into a ball and insert it between my legs. I had my first  orgasm that way.

When I was twelve, my brother showed me some dirty videos that he had gotten  from his friends. We locked the door to his room played them on his VCR. I saw  my first naked man on a video. I pretended to be disgusted by it, but my eyes  were glued to the screen. I remember thinking how odd it was for a boy to have a  piece of flesh hanging between his legs. And it was so large too! How could boys  stuff it in their pants without it being noticed, I thought. My brother had some  other really weird videos too; like women peeing on each other. At first I  thought it was sick but as I watched further, I couldn’t help from getting  aroused. I guess my kinky nature came from watching those videos. I also got off  by looking at my parent’s history book of painting; I called it “The Treasury of  Filthy Art Masterpieces” because it had pictures of naked men and women in it.  Boy did I get turned on by them. I would masturbate by inserting strange objects  into my pussy, but only at night, in bed of course. I lost my virginity, so to  speak, and broke my hymen by inserting a roll-on deodorant bottle. You know, the  type that has a rounded end? Of course I performed my vaginal insertions when no  one was around, usually when my parents were away on a trip or something. I  would get hot just thinking about sticking something new in my cunt. I remember  seeing a cucumber in a grocery store and an idea struck. I thought about it for  weeks. When the time came and my parents and brother were away, I heated up a  cucumber in a pot until it became warm, about as warm as a real cock might get.  Then I sat in front of a mirror and pushed the cucumber into my cunt and  pretended it was a man’s cock. God, it felt so good and hot in there. I wanted a  real cock so bad. (more…)

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Marge and Betty, both 40, were getting ready for their afternoon delight.  In the living room, with shades drawn, they began disrobing after their showers.  Each woman was shaven clean in the pubic area and both still had beautiful breasts.  As each garment revealed more of their naked flesh, the other would caress this particular spot with silken fingers.  When they had removed all their clothing, they went into a full, grinding kiss which lasted a full thirty seconds as tongues probed each others mouth.  Then taking seats, Marge rang a bell, which was a signal for Tamara to come into the room.

Tamara was a lithe 20 year old girl with dark hair, almost jet black that hung in waves down her back.  She was dressed in a maids costume (with no underwear) and walked right over to the coffee table. Picking up a champagne glass, she placed it right up to her pussy lips and began urinating into the glass.  When she had it about 3/4 full, she sat it down on the coffee table and picked up the other.  This she urinated into also.  Setting the glass down, she turned her back to the coffe table and squatted over a big plate.  Slowly, she deposited a big, fat turd on the plate.  Straightening up, she opened a box of fresh Ritz crackers and began to spread them around the turd on the plate. Once she had completely circled the crap with crackers, she left the room.

Marge looked at Betty as she picked up her glass and took a sip of the warm, salty drink.  Then, setting it down, she took up a knife and a Ritz cracker and sliced off a chunk of the turd and spread it on the Ritz.  Handing the knife to Betty, she placed the cracker in her mouth and began chewing it up.  Betty did the same, popping the turd-laden cracker in her mouth.  Both women chewed the crackers up and swallowed and took up their glass and washed the slimy food down.  Sliding over to one another on the couch, they again went into a kiss…. “Tamara sure puts out some sweet shit, doesn’t she?”

Both women began talking which soon led to a dialogue of love words and phrases.  As they were doing this, they each sliced off pieces of the turd and popped it onto another cracker before popping it into their mouth.  This had been going on, shit-feeding and kissing and the turd was about half finished when the door from the kitchen opened and Nicole, Marge’s 14 year old daughter walked in on them. (more…)

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He stood towering above me as I knelt before Him, and I smelled his chaps, His crotch, His asshole, intoxicated.  His dick was half hard in front of my face, framed by His chaps and His balls and I heard Him speak and knew what I must do.

I took the meat in my mouth and held it there, waiting, and then it began to dribble, hot and salty, then as His dick softened the piss flowed, then shot out against the back of my throat, and I drank His dark yellow piss thirstily.  I was His.  His toilet. His dog.  His whipping boy.  His and nothing else, and nothing other than the knowledge that I was His invaded my awareness. Nothing but this knowledge had any relevance to me.  Nothing but this knowledge made my dick hard and my hole wet.  I was nothing but His and I drank, thankful that it was His Will that I taste his hot, stinking piss …

I felt His fingers under my collar, pulling me to my feet.  My collar.  His collar.  The thick black leather that marked me as his to use as He saw fit.  The collar I could not, would not, would never remove unless it was His Will, the collar I wanted more than anything else to feel around my neck, wear around my neck, until I died.

I wore other marks, other badges of His ownership.  The tattoo on my arm.  The ring through my dick.  And I knew that should He decide to keep me, should I train to His ultimate satisfaction, I would wear the ultimate mark of His ownership: the knife scar on my empty bag.  I wanted nothing more than that, for Him to claim my sex, to seal His ownership, to permanently make my only sexual satisfaction His hard-on by feeling His glittering steel blade cutting me from my masculinity forever. (more…)

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I arrived in L. A. about a week ago. I was hoping to turn my life around with a big move from the Big Apple to Tinsel Town. Life on the east coast wore me down and things looked brighter already. I was very low on funds but was lucky to land a job on the set of a movie that was being filmed in the desert of Southern California.

The set was a little far out of town to comute, so we were all staying in trailers at the location. My trailer was rather small and I had to share it with several other “goffer” type guys. I didn’t care because the rent was free. This job would let me save lots of cash so I could spend the time necessary to land a real job. I was a few pennies from skid row, but I was well educated and hoped to make a splash in my new town.

My job on the set was to be available to the young teen star of the movie. She had recently made a big splash in her first filck and her picture had been plastered on the cover of numerous national magazines. She had that innocent, irresistable, pure beauty that graced one person in a hundred million. Unfortunately she knew it, and around the set she was known as the “Teen Bitch.”

It was always “Get this,” or “Get that.” Never so much as a “please” or a “thank you.” Sometimes she was right next to whatever it was she wanted. Alicia always gave me these condescending looks. I, in turn, had grown to hate the aire of superiority she always carried with her.

The long, hot, dusty day of filming in the desert was wraping up when one of the other guys said there was cold beer waiting for us back at our trailer. That was just to good to pass up. Just as I arrived and grabbed a cold one, someone walked up and said:

“Hey Don, teen bitch is throwing a tantrum. She says she needs a few things.”

I said I’d be back as soon as I ran her errands and headed off to her plush trailer. I tapped the can on the door. (more…)

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 Skinny chicks sharing fresh piss in scat sex

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Fat whores leaving shitty traces on men

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