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Fun with a normal white guy...
Sharing experiences in the world of debauchery.
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Damn That's Hot! - Part Deux
Posted:Jan 4, 2015 11:35 am
Last Updated:Oct 4, 2022 7:9 pm

The continuing saga of attributes that I find crank the most heat into a sexual experience.

2 – Be open to new experiences – this is kind of a follow-on to number 1, particularly if you’re a slut in training. The hottest example (those who have read previous posts might remember this one) I can offer is with a lover who I asked, while she had me in her mouth, ‘do you want to touch yourself while you’re sucking my cock?’ She reached back and began to play with her clit and orgasmed almost immediately. Then she asked me if I’d like for her to move so I could have a better view of her touching herself. Yes please! One of the reasons the experience was so hot was that, afterward, she shared that she had never done anything like that for another partner and found the act very exciting. In fact, she yelled at me for exposing her to the variation; ‘Every time I think about doing that to you, I wind up having to pull out my vibrator!’
My point is that the great thing about sex is it’s an experience that evolves the more you do it. Or at least it should! Doing the same thing, the same way, over and over, rarely holds my attention.

3 – Tell me what you want – This is probably the one trait that stands above the others as a turn on, for me. It’s an attribute that is shared by all the women who have rocked my world in the sack. To be sure, I’m not saying I want someone who will guide me through the entire process like a rookie. I think I’ve graduated beyond ‘insert Tab A into Slot . And trust me, I’ll figure out rather quickly how my partner’s wired (i.e. does she respond more to stimulation of her clit or g-spot). What I’m referring to are things that even the more attentive men might miss or not be comfortable initiating. Two examples that remain prominent in my ‘damn, that was hot’ memory happened to occur with the same woman.
The first might seem a bit tame, but it should be taken in context. After our second date, she came back to my place for some high quality making out. I really liked this woman and, surprising as this may sound, I’m somewhat old fashioned during the ‘getting to know you’ phase of what seems to be a genuine romantic relationship. She didn’t strike me as being the kind of girl who would appreciate being pawed on the second date, so I was sticking to the kissing agenda. Turns out she wanted to be pawed and let me know by grabbing my hand and placing it on one of her breasts. I know it sounds silly but I found that to be pretty stimulating. And a good time was had by all.
The other example is quite a bit hotter. I’ll recount the entire evening at some point but the highlight was her telling me, before we finished undressing each other, that watching a guy stroke his hard cock until it exploded turned her on. She asked if I would do that for her and cum all over her tits. This is the perfect example of what I’m talking about. Sure, it was hot…damn it was hot, but that act was not something I would typically suggest to a partner. So, had she not asked, her lovely breasts would have remained unglazed and her fantasy wouldn't have been made into reality.
Damn That's Hot!
Posted:Jan 1, 2015 5:08 pm
Last Updated:Jan 4, 2015 11:37 am

Time to be a little more upbeat and fun, with my blog. Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about lovers who were fantastic in the sack and what made them stand out. Maybe it’s because the last two I’ve experienced left me a bit unsatisfied, for lack of a better word. I know that sounds a bit harsh but perhaps I’ve reached a level of maturity where quality truly does matter more than quantity. Although it makes for fun conversation to brag about racking up numbers, with my married golf buddies, it just doesn’t cut it for me, these days. No, you’re not taking away my man card either. What I’m trying to say is that, from a pure sex perspective, I want my partner to bring something to the party beyond her vagina. I want to have my socks at least jostled, if not rocked, when I get into the sack. Let’s face it, life’s too short to spend a bunch of time playing the game to find out he or she is a dud in bed.

So, what makes a woman good in the sack, to me? (obviously, the following babble will apply only to me but perhaps others will find insight from the points I’ll make) After giving the topic some thought, I’ve come up with the following list (guys love lists!). The best lovers I’ve experienced all have certain traits in common. Some are amazing for different reasons than others. But they all possess two or more of the below attributes in spades, along with a healthy ‘competency’ in most of the remainder.

I realize I’ve, once again, penned an epic post. In the interest of maintaining a manageable post length, I’ll break up the list. Also, I’m only proofreading this at arm’s length so there might be some spelling and grammar catastrophes.

So, in no particular order…

1 – A willingness to be slutty – If you’ve read my previous entry on sluts, you’ll understand where I’m coming from. Some of my most memorable encounters have been with women who allow themselves to embrace their slutty side. They unapologetically need to be fucked and get off in as many ways as possible. I’m not looking for a complete slut, per se, but things like dropping to your knees and taking me in your mouth, while standing on the deck, is always a nice surprise. Tell me to fuck you like a dirty slut from time to time. Beg me to pull out and shoot my hot cum all over your ass, tits, face, or belly. Skip the underwear, occasionally, when we go to dinner; then tell me about it at the restaurant. And let’s face it, what guy (other than the insecure ones) doesn’t get turned on watching a woman bring herself off for him?
1 comment
Part II – She Threw a What???
Posted:Dec 29, 2014 9:07 am
Last Updated:Apr 21, 2020 8:09 am

BPD’ers have a great deal of difficulty controlling their emotions, often ‘losing their shit’ on perceived transgressors, many times to the point of becoming physical. C was unusual, for a Borderline, in that she rarely went ballistic and never got physical. But when she did freak out, it was usually in a context one would least expect.

My favorite example almost invariably blows the minds of everyone who hears it. In fact, even the folks on the BPD support message boards (a community for those living with, or trying to escape, a Borderline) were impressed with this one. It involves cured meats.

We were hosting Easter, and my parents were visiting from out of state, along with my grandmother. The morning of, my mother and I were in the kitchen, both finishing breakfast as well as prepping some sides for Easter dinner. Somewhat out of the blue, C began an argument with me over something I’ve since forgotten. Suffice to say it was something trivial and I defended myself. The argument escalates, as one might expect when it’s over nothing of significance.

And then, it happened. Out of the blue, she threw the ham at me!!! I was accosted by a projectile of porcine smoky goodness!

Needless to say, things got ugly after that. After all, you don’t throw smoked pork at me and get away with it! Nothing physical but there was a ton of screaming and yelling from both of us. My parents were mortified and left (they later told me they never liked my wife).

And here’s the best part of the story. I apologized!!! God, she was an artist. The logic went like this: She had (allegedly) told me the previous night, to try to vacate the kitchen early so she could get the ham prepared. It was because of my mother’s and my loitering, in the kitchen, that she had no choice but to go ape shit and throw meat at me. Yeah, I guess it was my fault you had to throw the ham at me. I’m sorry; I don’t deserve you.

Attempting to project blame is a common theme in most relationships, so nothing new there. Most people try to deflect blame at some point. But she took projection to new levels of artistry. Here are two quick examples of her projection artistry, both relating to her wrecking her cars, which she did regularly.

Once, she slid on ice, during a big snow storm, while approaching a stop light, and hit the guy in front of her who had already stopped for the red light. Whose fault was that? The dude who stopped at the light, of course.

The other one, that was quite inventive, was when she backed into a truck. We had moved into our home a few months earlier and the builder was there to knock out some punch list items. His truck was parked in front of the closed garage door. C had to leave, opened the garage door, and promptly backed into the contractor’s truck. Whose fault was that one? It was mine because she was late and rushing to meet me. If it weren’t for me wanting to treat her to a nice dinner out, she wouldn’t have wrecked the car.

Her refusal to take blame for anything became a source of resentment for me. I wanted her to take ownership for something; anything. I tried to explain that I don’t care if someone makes mistakes; everyone does. But, if you screw the pooch, in your marriage, you take ownership, apologize, and work through it together. Didn’t do a bit of good.

C would often utilize a certain manipulation technique that I later learned was called gaslighting; a common tactic among those with BPD. Gaslighting is a form of manipulation that is considered torture, in some contexts. An excellent description can be found here:


C demonstrated some serious skill at gaslighting. There would be some sort of disagreement between us, followed by her returning (from work or a family ‘meeting’, etc.) with the message that other people with whom she’d discussed the topic with agree with her perspective on the matter. To top it off, invariably, someone she spoke with would allegedly make a disparaging comment about me. Sometimes, there was only a disparaging comment about me; ‘my friends think you’re an asshole’. But the underlying theme was that I was wrong and a piece of shit but C wasn’t the one saying I was a piece of shit. She remained blameless. (I’ll revisit that theme in a later story)

A quick example of her gaslighting: we’d had a non-yelling disagreement over a topic which has been lost to history (which I’m sure I apologized for). The next day, she returned home from work and informed me that she’d spoken with five coworkers about what happened. All five had said they never have arguments with their spouse and one said I had an anger management problem. Pretty powerful stuff, if you trust your partner, which I did at the time.

However, as time went on, she got sloppy (desperate) with her gaslighting and make more and more outrageous claims. I used to joke she would claim her colleagues advocated killing puppies, if that’s what her position was. She would tell me her position was supported by people who she had no way of casually speaking with (i.e. were out of the country, people she had vowed never to speak with again, those she admitted she hadn’t spoken with in years, etc.). In one case, she tried to convince me she’d just discussed ‘whatever’ and gotten support from someone who I knew had passed away a few months earlier. Yep, even those pushing up daisies agreed with her!

To top it off, she was a compulsive (yet talented) liar; a typical trait of those with BPD. I’ve never met someone who had such an aversion for the truth as C. It wasn’t just me she lied to. After we had been married for a few years, each one of her three siblings shared stories of how her compulsive lying had caused a rift between them. Of course, my response was ‘and you couldn’t have told me this before I married her???’ Honestly, I missed most of her lies until later in our relationship or after we separated; she was that good at it.

After we separated, I called her out on the lying, citing various examples where I had concrete evidence (i.e. changing the locks). She admitted she had lied to me quite a bit, over the years, but explained ‘I didn’t feel as though I could be honest with you’. She was afraid I’d go bat shit over the truth. Huh? I asked her whether she felt the same way with – and proceeded to rattle off names of her family and others. I don’t recall the fabrication she came up with and it doesn’t matter.

I have since come to understand that she was attempting to manipulate me into her own storybook version of the perfect marriage. Instead, the only thing she accomplished was to drive me away. But, to be clear, she was incapable of rational thought in many instances. In most cases, a Borderline truly believes their version of events because their brain can’t process the reality that they may be to blame for something. It’s called dissociative behavior and it creates a new reality of a situation that the Borderline mind can accept. There were many occasions where she’d recall a recent situation / conversation / whatever and I’d wonder whether we were discussing the same thing, because I certainly wasn’t part of the event she was describing.

We tried two go ‘rounds of marriage counseling. However, in both cases, I was in the mode of accepting ‘things aren’t working out because I’m a bad husband’. And she certainly wasn’t going to admit to lying and manipulation.

I’m ashamed to say the lying, manipulation, turned me into a bitter, selfish man. I had an affair at the office (she never found out) with another married woman who gave me what C wouldn’t; the feeling that I was a desirable man. Time went on and I made a couple serious efforts to regroup and be the best husband I could be to C. When I asked for some sort of positive feedback on my efforts, she responded with the message that I’d likely go back to being ‘worthless’ soon. So, I truly became a bastard because why bother trying not to be?

I absolutely tried to be the best step-father I could. This was very important to me, as their own father wasn’t in the picture and C was incredibly erratic as a parent. On that, I believe I succeeded but that’s another story.

The ultimate tipping point was my taking a job in Richmond. She agreed to the move and was excited about my promotion. But, she wasn’t being honest with me or herself. As her sister later told me, ‘regardless of what she told you, there was no way C was moving down to VA.’ I’ll spare you the blow by blow but suffice to say that dynamic ripped what was left of the fabric of our marriage apart.

And as the marriage finally disintegrated, I never once heard her tell me she loved me and wanted to save our marriage. Instead, she would berate me about honoring my commitment; or if I was going to abandon her and the .

In all honesty, I didn’t see the lying, manipulation, and emotional abuse for what it was. My motives to end the marriage were purely selfish at the time. I was tired of being told how horrible I was as a husband. I wanted out. I had to get out. My self-esteem was shot to hell and I figured no woman would want a horrible man like me but I didn’t care. I’d rather be alone than continue to listen to my wife bitch about me constantly.

And then it was over. I became an enemy in a heartbeat and she wouldn’t allow me into the house. It had nothing to do with fear of me taking things from the marital home; just that she didn’t want me in ‘her’ home, being the traitor I was. She told me, flat out, that she was going to punish me for not living up to my commitment. She was so petty as to change my contact in her phone to ‘Dickhead’. It should go without saying that she dragged out the divorce as long as she could, milking me for spousal support the whole time. She wanted to keep our house, and belongings, and have me walk away with nothing.

I can’t say I was devastated because I wasn’t. Sure, it hurt like hell that my world was turned on its head overnight. I was in a new city, in a new job, going through a divorce. Stress much? On the flip side, four days after I asked for the divorce, C had signed up on an internet dating site. I found this out later; her was appalled.

Changed the Locks
Funny story about that and the ongoing manipulation theme. She and I were working on a day for me to come up to PA and collect some belongings. She had commitments come up on the day I had free. No problem, I said, I have the key and I’ll get what we agreed to. She then told me that the locks had been changed. I asked why; I hadn’t threatened her in any way, had I? No. And I lived four hours away, so it’s not like I could pop by to serve some ulterior motive. She said her brother-in-law (who I got along with very well) did it because he ‘just thought it would be best’. I said it had to be an expensive proposition, considering what we paid for the custom finish on our door hardware. Yes, but he wanted it taken care of.

I was visiting my parents, during this email exchange (she wouldn’t talk on the phone and I was glad for ‘paper’ confirmations of what she’d agreed to) and it hit me. That common theme: I was being screwed, it was by some other entity, and C was blameless. I said to my parents, ‘the locks weren’t changed, she just doesn’t want me there.’ I tried to get my dad to take a $1k bet that the locks weren’t changed, but he’s a smart guy.

So, the day arrived, and I pulled into my driveway, walked up and rang the doorbell. C opened the door and, after some small talk, I asked about the locks. I told her the finish matched really well to the original equipment. She took the bait and told me all about the process and how she didn’t want to change the locks but her brother in law did it without asking, etc. etc. etc. I let her dig the hole for ten minutes or so, then pulled out my key and said, ‘I guess this is trash and won’t work now.’ I stuck the key in the door, sure enough, it worked. The look on her face was priceless and all she could say was ‘whoops!’ I’ve never seen her so uncollected. She then began berating me about how useless I was and how I betrayed her and the . Broken record…

The Escape
One very important thing to remember about Borderlines is that it’s tough to get away from them. Even though I was the enemy, C continued to reach out to me. These little pings took various forms. She would yank my chain to get a reaction; ‘I’m throwing out you’re X (that I wouldn’t allow you to collect) that you like so much.’ Or, if her new boyfriend went out of town, she’d act like I was her friend again. You see, even though we were divorcing, she was desperately trying to prevent my final abandonment. And that’s the fun gift that keeps on giving with a Borderline. Unless you find a way to make a final break, they’ll keep bouncing back into your life. You must escape, period.

How did I get C to leave me alone? Simple, I shared my assertion she had BPD. The short version is that, once I determined without a doubt, she had BPD, I sent her a letter detailing how her behavior was perfectly in line with someone with BPD. That even her was a textbook example for behavior of a with a BPD parent. I (stupidly) offered to reconcile in order to get her the help she needed. Thankfully, she refused (it was easier to stay with the poor guy who didn’t realize how fucked up she was) and denied she had BPD (as Borderlines do). When she’d try to manipulate me, or exhibit other typical BPD behavior, I’d point it out and tell her I understood it was her BPD driving her. She’d attempt to suck me into an argument by insulting me and I’d respond calmly that I’d be happy to discuss my shortcomings with her and her therapist. Ultimately, she stopped communicating. I’m sure there were two factors involved in her backing away. She was freaked about being identified as having BPD. In fact, she was freaked even more when her own therapist pointed out some unrelated corroborating evidence. Plus, she realized I had become impervious to her manipulation so there was no longer a payoff for the behavior. In fact, it became dangerous to because she kept receiving a stronger message of her illness.

There’s obviously a whole lot more I could share but those are the high points. There are some who might ask how the hell I could be so naïve not to see all the warning signs. Well, as I mentioned above, I’ll throw a beautiful, smart woman in front of you, have her extoll your amazingness to the world, and see how long you last. And, once you’re in, it’s tough to break away because you’ve been convinced you’re not worthy of a good woman. It’s a slow, insidious process. Truly, the nut jobs who have their act polished are incredibly seductive. I wound up dating another girl who made the same noises (she didn’t seem to be a Borderline though) and it wasn’t easy to walk away from, even with the knowledge I’ve gained.

While some may read this and think otherwise, I’m not bitter over what happened. The truth is that C wasn’t in control of her actions and, as a result, I can’t blame her.

Ultimately, what came out of the whole episode? Well, I learned a lot more about myself. When I looked in the mirror, after we separated, I didn’t like what I saw and made a sincere effort to change the things that I didn’t like. For some time after, I overcompensated for missing what I felt I should have caught by ‘chasing shadows’ in other women. OMG, she likes the same type of apple C does; she’s gotta be nuts! But, I’ve settled down and moved on to be what I would like to think is an emotionally healthy state.
They Walk Among Us - Yes, I'm Talking Nut Jobs
Posted:Dec 16, 2014 11:51 am
Last Updated:Oct 21, 2016 3:11 pm

In the time between , in my consulting business, my mind begins to wander, well, all over the damned place. Lately, it’s been drifting toward past relationships and, in particular, my one and only marriage. I’m over the marriage, put it in the past tense, and moved on, blah, blah, blah. But you see my ex has undiagnosed Borderline Personality Disorder. In fact, I’m the only one who truly recognizes her condition, being in the unique position to see her current and past behavior.

For those who aren’t familiar with borderline personality disorder, you can read more here:


But the short version is that those with BPD do everything they can to prevent abandonment. This includes manipulating (i.e. lying, gaslighting) their partners in order to keep them from leaving. Their emotional state is in constant turmoil.

I’ll preface by saying, despite some parts of the story appearing to be, this is not a ‘woe is me’ story. Rather a precautionary tale for those who don’t realize that true nut jobs walk among us and can damage you in ways you’d never believe possible. I certainly didn’t have a clue this was the case, when I met my ex. Hell, I didn’t know what the hell BPD was. Surely, those people would be locked up or labelled or something, right? Anyway, I’ve thrown in some amusing (in retrospect) instances that will likely blow your mind.

What sucks about BPD, is that it’s incredibly difficult to diagnose. In fact, I was dating a therapist who had been married to a BPD’er and didn’t figure it out until after the relationship ended, which is what happened with me. She also shared that when a patient at her practice is suspected of having BPD, they are interviewed by multiple therapists because of how adept they are at manipulation.

My first somewhat humorous story revolves around confirmation of the presence of BPD. I figured things out by good old digging around. I found the DSM and compared to my ex’s behavior; BPD was the landslide winner. It was solidified by research on the effects of of Borderlines, which seemed as though they’d just written a description of my step-. I compared notes with the aforementioned therapist I dated and it was as though we’d been living the same lives. The humor comes into play when I talked to the therapist I’d been seeing during my divorce. I kept throwing supporting information at him but he refused to diagnose C as a Borderline. Not seeing her, ethics, blah, blah. Then, toward the end, I wound up having a rather lengthy email conversation with her where everything she wrote screamed ‘I’m a Borderline’. I showed that to my therapist, who blurted out, ‘Wow, she’s a high functioning Borderline.’ I looked at him and said, ‘gotcha!’

The Courtship
When I met C, she seemed like everything I wanted in a partner. Admittedly, I’d never experienced a true partner in previous relationships so I really had zero clue what I really should be looking for. But C was beautiful, smart, and thought I was the best thing since sliced bread. I was her savior from the other horrible guys she’d dated. And she’d dated a lot of losers, the most extreme example being her second husband who had done time for armed robbery. (Under the heading of ‘some people don’t change’ this would be the same scumbag who I, later, wound up showing the business side of a Glock to convince him he shouldn’t be following ‘our’ to their bus stop.) Truly, these should have been warning signs (not almost shooting her ex; that came later) but I defy most men to have a gorgeous woman praise them as their knight in shining armor and think ‘hmm, something ain’t right here’. It’s just not gonna happen! Hell, most guys are insecure to begin with, so they eat that up like a fat wolfs down cake. I know I did.

The relationship progressed incredibly quickly. On her side, the BPD was forcing her timeline. On mine, I was at an age where I decided it was time to settle down and C was amazing. It was almost as though I said ‘yep, you’ll do nicely’ and that was that.

The Relationship
So, all was right with the world. As time went on, there were little warning signs. I caught her lying to her in order to manipulate them. Hmm…she wouldn’t do that to me though, right? Her treatment of me changed over time as well. In the beginning, I could do no wrong but, seemingly overnight, I developed a dizzying array of character flaws. Every misstep was categorized and thrown on the pile. The general message from her to me was ‘I love you regardless of how useless you are’. Pretty effective at making someone feel really lucky they have such an understanding spouse. As time passed, my self-esteem dropped precipitously.

When there were differences of opinion, with respect to our relationship, I would try to be accommodating. There was a part of me that thought ‘she’s been married twice before so she knows better than me’. Hah! Dumb shit!

In general, every disagreement we had was seemingly my fault. When having a disagreement with a partner, my preference is to sit down, as soon as possible (sometimes one or both parties needs to let the steam vent before they can have a productive discussion) and have a frank and respectful discussion. But she wouldn’t discuss differences of opinion between us, ever. And when I would become agitated at her avoiding the discussion, I would somehow find myself apologizing for yelling at her. To be clear, I raised my voice less than half a dozen times, during my marriage, but apologized for yelling no less than fifteen times.

And she was the master at this type of manipulation.

She was also a black belt of the ‘I told you X’ to cover herself. I thought I was the worst husband in the world for not paying attention to my wife (adding to the shame). This was until I wound up taking notes from our conversations (for reasons too lengthy to get into here). Sure enough, her story (in this case, our relocation from PA to RVA) would change almost daily, yet she’d claim that whatever today’s story was had been her position the whole time.

More manipulative fun in the second installment, coming soon.
Posted:Nov 8, 2014 2:08 pm
Last Updated:Jan 24, 2017 2:51 pm

Alton Brown performed live here in Richmond earlier this week (he's all over the place so check your local listings) and he did the usual trying of various eating establishments while in the area. During his show (he tweeted this too), he mentioned that Proper Pie made the best pumpkin pie he's ever had, bar none, and the coconut cream pie was damned good as well. When someone like AB says something is the best he's ever had, I tend to take note because I'm sure he's had a lot of good pie. And those of us who truly enjoy coconut cream pie recognize there are two kinds; really awesome and utter crap. There's not much in between. And finding the former can be a challenge. I make my own, which is pretty awesome (if I do say so myself), but rarely feel like going through the trouble just for me. Plus, I don't NEED to have a whole pie sitting around the house. Really, it just leads to trouble; and no, I don't have much in the way of willpower when it comes to certain foods.

So, today I trekked to the other side of RVA and made a purchase; okay, a few purchases. As I predicted, there was a line out the door and they had sold out of pumpkin pie. Fortunately, there was coconut cream so I grabbed the last two pieces and made my escape.

Not a big fan of the graham cracker crust but yeah, it's good.

What's your weakness when it comes to difficult to find delicacies?
1 comment
You're a Blogger? Really? How Nice for You
Posted:Oct 31, 2014 7:10 am
Last Updated:Oct 21, 2016 3:11 pm

So called bloggers are an interesting breed, particularly here on Senior Sizzle. Despite doing a bit of writing myself (some of it published in various print outlets), I tend to view blogging in a negative light or at least with a bit of suspicion on certain topics.

I was dating a woman for a while, who was a prolific blogger. Her work was engaging and I considered it a bit of a window into her past and present mind. A good chunk of her work was on previous relationships and how she had been emotionally beaten by so many of them. Long story short, we eventually broke up and, sure enough, she ripped out a blog about the topic in short order. What surprised me was how little resemblance there was between her self-serving drivel and what actually happened. Had she broken up with another guy that afternoon as well? Since then, I tend to dismiss a good chunk of ‘I’ve been wronged’ blogs out of hand; right or wrong.

Certainly opinion blogs may be taken at face value whether they’re on target or not.

That said, it’s time for me to launch into my own holier than thou tirade. Regardless of whether the content is absolute horseshit, most bloggers tend to be quite proud of their writing. They convey complete thoughts using complete sentences and know the difference between your and you’re. I’ve lost count of the number of profiles on Senior Sizzle that state ‘I’m only here to blog’ but their writing wouldn’t pass a third grade English class. Truly, if you want your content to be taken seriously…

Also, if you’re merely posting pics you found on the internet that you found funny/titillating/interesting, you’re not a blogger. You’re an internet message board.
Women Are Sluts
Posted:Sep 26, 2014 2:03 pm
Last Updated:Sep 26, 2014 2:51 pm

At least the good ones are.

I’ll admit this post will likely ramble a bit, hell, it’s just as likely to be utter garbage. But that’s seemingly par for the course with most blogs; spout massive volumes of erroneous self-serving drivel and pretend it’s important. But I digress. I’ll also preface by stating that the garbage coming from my keyboard is based upon my own experiences and conversations; your mileage may vary. Being a student of human nature (you become quite adept at understanding what makes people tick when you’ve been married to someone with borderline personality disorder), I enjoy the differences in how each partner I’ve been intimate with over the years interacts with me. What used to surprise me, when I was younger, was what I guess could be considered the slut factor, specifically how many women have a higher one than one might guess. Growing up in puritanical middle of nowhere PA, I was raised to believe that slutty women were not desirable for anything beyond a quick fuck. Women who spontaneously flash their boobs to you, touch themselves while on the way home from dinner (or touch themselves for you at all), or blow you in public were considered undesirable. But as I’ve matured, I’ve found that more women have a slutty to them than not. And it’s a beautiful thing! Slutty being a descriptor and not a value judgment term, btw.

As I think of companions I’ve enjoyed over the years, I begin to think like a guy and want to categorize them. While the slut factor is obviously a sliding scale with no absolutes, in my experience, women tend to fall into four different buckets. A bit of clarification first. The observations I’ve made were in the context of ‘traditional relationships’ with women who were potential long term relationships. All bets are off with one night stands and random hookups, which completely change the dynamics below.

The first two are the easy ones. There’s the uninhibited slut. She enjoys being dirty, regardless of the partner(s), setting, or law enforcement present. She thrives on being nasty and it gets her off. She doesn’t care who knows she’s a dirty girl and it may even excite her further the more people who do know.

On the other end of the spectrum is the non-slut. Regardless of how ravenous or nonexistent her sex drive, she wants a traditional and vanilla fucking. Fuck her, go down on her, she might blow you, and that’s it. Don’t even think of tying her up because she isn’t into it. (I’ll explain why later.) I’ve experienced a few of these women but I usually don’t maintain any sort of ongoing sexual relationship with them.

The middle groupings tends to get a bit squishier; call the first closet sluts. These are women who love being slutty, but want to keep it under cover. She’s tried it all and knows what she likes. The code word to unlock the fun for her is trust. Her sluttiness (which spell check hasn’t recognized yet) is solid but tends to only come out when she’s confident there won’t be negative consequences as a result. She needs to know her partner won’t recoil when she unzips his pants in a parking lot or screams like a banshee when she orgasms. ‘Is he going to freak out when I ask him to tie me up and spank me?’ Once that trust is established, she goes from zero to delicious dirty girl in a heartbeat. In all honesty, I haven’t run into too many women who fall into this group.

Most women I’ve encountered fall into the category I refer to as the slut in training. Those that live in this realm have some experience being slutty but they still have plenty of exploring to do. They would enjoy being sluttier but aren’t always sure how to go about it. They are a bit more self-conscious about pushing boundaries with their partners and will require the right kind of motivation to expand boundaries. Hell, even at 40, I’ve run across women who are afraid to let me go down on them. Anyway, this woman can be a willing pupil but requires guidance and the proper encouragement to reach slutty perfection. In short, sluts in training love sex and are open to trying most things to enhance the experience, but the road to (greater) depravity for them is more of a boulevard than an autobahn. Trust is even more important to sluts in training than closet sluts.

I love hearing a woman tell me ‘I want to be your dirty little slut.’ And that’s the thing, most closet sluts and sluts in training want to be your slut and your slut only. When they want to push boundaries, they want you to take charge and shove them on their knees to suck you, to spank them and pull their hair while you take them from behind, to find a quiet place in the park where you can pull their skirt up and fuck them knowing you might get caught. They want to fantasize about being fucked by multiple guys but they only want you inside them. I’ll circle back to that dynamic in a moment.

But don’t try to lead with ‘I want you to be my slut’. Most women, who want to be sluts, want you to ‘prove yourself’ first. Even closet sluts, in the context of a relationship, may want you to make your first time together somewhat special.

That leads to the question of what drives many women to enjoy being sluts for their partners.

Women have come a long way in terms of respect in society and the workplace. They’ve worked their asses off to gain parity with men and have no time or respect for those who blatantly and consistently view women as subservient second class humans. They spend most of their waking hours having to work so hard (harder than men, in most cases) to maintain their standing and keep it together that they may begin to doubt their own femininity. They rightfully demand a partner who will value them as an equal and afford them the respect they deserve. Yet, they still want to feel like a hot and desirable woman. Inside, there is a part of them that wants to be objectified and controlled; they want their trusted partner to ‘stake their claim’ and take ownership. But only with a partner they trust (or one night stand). I’ve had more than one successful woman share this sentiment with me.

One told me, almost verbatim, ‘I spend all day running my business, maintaining a household, making decisions, being a good mother, and all that other garbage. So, in bed, I want my guy to take charge, spank my ass, pull my hair, and make me his fuck toy. I want to feel like a woman.’

Insert applicable commentary on traditional roles between the sexes as you see fit.

While most of the above isn’t necessarily new, I’ll throw out an observation that may incite some controversy. It’s a corollary of the above and it’s that intelligent women with high self-esteem make the best sluts. If a woman is secure in herself, knows she’s respected by her partner, peers, etc. it makes her more comfortable stepping out of that persona, into being a fuck toy. She has no fear that she’ll be stuck in that role, knowing she can easily slip back into her ‘confident side’. ‘Spank me, manhandle me, use me like your in bed because I know, once we’re done, you’ll respect me for the confident woman I am.’ She’s more willing to take the risks that might be involved in enhancing her sexual experience.

Conversely, women who are less secure might be more concerned about being respected regardless of the context. They have difficulty divorcing being a fuck toy in bed from being seen in the same light elsewhere. They are less likely to be able to ‘let go’ because, again, they don’t want to universally be perceived as someone who doesn’t deserve respect.

My own experiences support the above, time and time again. The women who are confident and almost domineering with their clothes on are the ones who most want to be treated like a dirty (quoting a few women with that, btw) in the bedroom. In fact, the more confident a woman is, the more dirty and submissive she’ll be; again, based upon my own experiences. It’s always been the really confident women I’ve heard screaming ‘I’m a dirty little ’ for me. Conversely, I’ve dated women who were the poster for insecurity and I couldn’t even hint at trying something they considered degrading in the sack. Obviously, there are exceptions to every rule but I’m talking trends here.

There does come a point where a woman’s self-esteem drops low enough that she becomes more open to being a slut for you. That one’s pretty obvious; she wants you to not reject her so she’s willing to push boundaries to maintain your approval. Again, exceptions, rules, etc. Then again, I’m not claiming anything I’ve written resembles anything so constrictive as a rule. As noted, these are trends based upon my own observations.

You’re sitting there saying to yourself, I’ve been with a few confident women and they weren’t slutty at all; what’s up with that? The most common reason I’ve heard from women as to why they aren’t sluttier is because so many men are insecure. There are a couple of dynamics at play here. First, there’s the ‘why does she need me around?’ factor. This one comes out when a woman pulls out some toys or brings herself off while with her partner. Side note of irony as these behaviors are turn on’s for guys; until they happen. One told me about having to stroke the ego of a previous boyfriend after he freaked out when she pulled out her favorite toy and it was bigger than he was. ‘That thing gets her off so why does she need me around?’ That’s how some guys think, unfortunately. The other factor that brings out men’s insecurity is their partner’s ‘dirty past’. They want their girlfriend / wife to be a dirty for them. But if the gf/wife suggests dirty things that turn them on, they risk their partner going into the mode of ‘damn, she must be a real to find out that turns her on.’ Followed by ‘someone taught her that thing that I’ve never thought of so why would she want to be with me?’ So many guys still secretly harbor the ‘I want to be the first’ feelings toward women that they have serious issues when confronted with evidence to the contrary. ‘Just how did she learn she liked to be DP’d? What a !’

My ideal partner has to be the slut in training. This has nothing to do with insecurity and not wanting a woman who’s experienced more than me. What it does have to do with is how much I enjoy exploration and, if I’m honest, my competitive streak. Very little gives me as much satisfaction, in the sack, than helping a partner discover something new that completely trips her trigger. Hearing ‘oh my God, I never thought I’d like that’ is an amazing feeling! Okay, maybe there’s some insecurity there and likely other pettiness too, knowing she’ll pull out a trick I taught her with her next partner and having him wonder how she learned she liked it.

Probably my favorite experience of helping my partner discover new things was with a girl I dated a few years ago. We had just started dating; in fact, I think it was the second time we slept together when this happened. She had me in my mouth and I asked her if she wanted to touch herself while she sucked my cock. She hesitated for a moment then her hand went between her legs. This girl was a complete g-spot girl but she started cumming almost immediately from her touching her clit. After a few moments, she looked up and asked if she should move so I could see her fingering her clit better. Uh, yep! She just kept cumming over and over, moaning and choking on my cock. Yeah, it was hot. What amazed me was how afterward, she gushed (literally and figuratively) over how hot doing that made her. That she wouldn’t have thought much of it since she never got off that way. After that, any time she performed oral on me, her fingers went right for her clit. Again, I relished hearing her discovering new ways to enjoy herself, even into her late 30’s. She told me the new trick turned her on so much that she’d have to pull out her toy every time she thought about it. BTW, she was one of the girls who claimed to be a complete closet slut. I taught her a few more new things but that’s another story.

One final thought. Don’t for a second think that a true blue slut will automatically be good in the sack. More on that later.
I Want to Be Special!!!
Posted:Sep 14, 2014 8:42 am
Last Updated:Nov 11, 2019 4:58 pm

Lately, I've been seeing more and more ladies' profiles with comments that leave me a bit amused / baffled / pick your own adjective. The thread they have in common is the desire to not encounter any evidence of men's previous partners. They spell out that they won't be interested in a guy who has pictures of him with another woman on his profile or if he has any testimonials.

Uh, last I checked, this is a sex site. Yes, there are many of us (men and women) on this site with considerable depth but again, see previous sentence. Even if the terms of usage permitted it, one could be expected to be turned off by a photo of a guy with is johnsonrod balls deep in another woman's mouth on e harmony. But we tailor our marketing content (which is what a dating profile is, really) to the audience at hand.

Perhaps it's insecurity. 'I don't want to think of this guy's man meat in some other bitch's bodily orifice.' I'd love to hear the rationale from one of these women.

All I know is I tend to think a different way and many women do as well. For example, one of my on again, off again, FWB's was over for dinner one night. It came up in conversation that I had taken a few pictures with a couple of partners. Her immediate response was 'I wanna see!'
The Reference Fuck
Posted:Jun 11, 2014 2:07 pm
Last Updated:Sep 14, 2014 9:28 am

A few weeks ago, a friend of mine sweet talked me into making her dinner. It had been awhile since we’d seen each other and I knew she’d been looking for a genuine relationship. She and I had tried that but circumstances I won’t go into here prevented things from progressing. But the sex had always been pretty great (I’ve got a story to write about her) so we occasionally get together for some evening fun. Anyway, after dinner came the messing around on the sofa (she’s an incredible kisser btw) and one thing led to another. As we headed toward the bedroom, she told me I didn’t have to have sex with her (???) but she’d been with a few other guys since we’d last been together and none of them had been able to give her an orgasm through intercourse. She said that she was concerned that something might be wrong with her but wanted to make sure. Since I’d always been able to make her orgasm during intercourse, she wanted to have sex with me to find out. I’m happy to say that there was nothing wrong with her and we both had a great night.

Afterward, I got to thinking about the experience. In engineering and other pursuits, an example of the original item is kept to refer to when comparing items produced later. They’re often called reference examples. I realized that I’d just been categorized as a reference fuck. Fee free to use that term as appropriate but credit me as the originator!
The Lost Weekend - Conclusion
Posted:May 27, 2014 2:41 pm
Last Updated:Oct 4, 2022 7:9 pm

After I made her breakfast, we spent the following morning in various states of messing around with one another. Eventually, our conversation migrated toward what events were planned for the evening. I told her it would be such a turn on to see her in a hot and slutty outfit for that night’s festivities. She responded enthusiastically by saying ‘I want you to dress me up the way you want; I want to turn you on’. She was standing against the bed, facing away from me at the time; probably putting something away. In any case, I walked up behind her and whispered in her ear that she turned me on all the time. Not being able to resist a beautiful neck, I began to kiss hers, reaching around to cup her breasts from behind. Her breathing began to quicken and after a few minutes, she abruptly pulled away from me and said ‘fuck me like a slut’. With that, she unbuttoned her jeans and pulled moved them down around her knees, bringing her panties with them. I brought myself forward and shoved my hard cock inside her already wet pussy. This was no time for tenderness or romance, she wanted to be fucked like a so I did. I grabbed her hips and fucked her hard and deep. I looked down at my cock disappearing inside her and then smacked her ass quite hard, receiving a response something between a whimper and a scream.

‘You want to be a dirty little slut, I’ll fuck you like one. You really are a slut. You need to have a hard cock in you all the time, don’t you?’
‘Yes, sir…..’
‘Do you like that hard cock fucking you?’
‘Yessss, sir……’
‘Good, I like fucking your slutty pussy….deep, hard….it’s my pussy now, isn’t it?’
‘Fuck yes, it’s your pussy to fuck whenever you want. Please pull my hair…’

Reaching up, I gathered up a handful of her long blonde hair and pulled.

‘Harder; pull my hair harder!’

I pulled her hair harder and harder as she whimpered and moaned.

‘Is that what you want, you fucking ?’
‘Oh god yes….fuck me baby.’

Her moaning became louder and I could feel her start to tense up under the brutal fucking and abuse.

‘Are you going to cum for me?’
‘Yes sir…..’
‘That’s what you wanted…my dirty slut wanted to get off and cum all over my cock.’
‘That’s it slut, fucking cum all over my cock!’

With that, she let out a loud moan and screamed that she was cumming. That was all it took for me to cum myself, blowing a massive load in her battered pussy.

After pulling ourselves back together, we left for lunch and some shopping. Both of us were excited about the purchases we’d made that afternoon. Rather than wasting valuable debauchery time on going out, I made dinner for us. Of course, dinner conversation tended to lean toward what we were going to do to each other later. Knowing how enamored Amber was with herself, I asked her if it would turn her on to make love in front of the huge mirrors in my master bath. Would it turn her on to watch herself being fucked, seeing her face while I was inside her. She thought that was a great idea, so I kept that in mind when I set up later (candles, etc.).

Dinner was followed by some light chatting on my sofa and was accompanied by more wine. After it became clear that we were both interested in ‘getting things underway’ I asked if she wanted to go slip into the things I’d bought her that afternoon. She readily agreed and headed off to the bedroom to change.

About ten minutes later, Amber emerged and looked amazing. I’m pretty sure my jaw physically dropped at the vision in front of me; a gorgeous young blonde wearing a silky black negligee, a matching thong, black thigh high stockings, and a pair of stilettos of ‘I’m a dirty slut’ height. I asked her to do a spin for me, so I could take all of her in.

‘You look amazing, baby!’
‘I really like the outfit. Thanks so much!’
I noticed she was a bit flushed and asked her ‘Does the outfit turn you on?’
‘You took awhile to change; were you looking in the mirror and touching yourself?’

She sheepishly replied that she had been.

‘I don’t blame you, baby. I want you to show me how you were touching yourself.’

Her face suddenly showed a sense of panic. She still wasn’t comfortable masturbating in front of someone else. So, I decided that she needed some guidance. I looked her in the eyes and, very firmly, said ‘show me’. The way I said it made it clear it wasn’t a request. Slowly, she moved a hand up and began to cup her breast, sliding the silk across her nipples. They instantly became erect and poked at the black silk.

‘Good girl; that’s so hot, baby.’

She slowly moved her other hand down, across her silk covered belly, and into her thong. She gasped a bit when her fingers made contact with her clit. I kept encouraging her, saying how beautiful she was and how hot she was making me. After a few minutes, her self-consciousness gave way to pleasure. She was pawing at her tits and whimpering every time her fingers strummed across her clit.

‘I need to have you inside me soon, baby’
‘Come over and prove how much you want my cock. Show how you love it.’

Without hesitation, she walked over to where I was sitting and roughly unbuttoned / unzipped my pants. I stood up so she could pull them down, then returned to my seated position. She lunged forward and instantly devoured my cock. She sucked it like she had something to prove; that she was worthy of having it inside her. Normally, I would have toyed with her a bit before giving her what she wanted but I was so turned on that I couldn’t wait to fuck this beauty in front of me.

‘Do you want to ride this cock right here?’
‘Mmmhmmf’ she muttered, still sucking for all she was worth.
‘The get up here and fuck it if that’s what you want.’

She stood up, turned around, and I began guiding her onto my rock hard shaft. With as wet and in lust as she was, she didn’t bother working up to anything. She simply dropped herself into my lap, impaling herself. She began moaning immediately, as she worked herself up and down on my pole. I loved seeing her ass moving around on my lap. I reached out and began pawing her tits from behind, using the leverage to drive myself as deep as possible. It didn’t take long for her to cry out that she was cumming. As she collapsed back into my chest, I asked her if she wanted to go into the bathroom and watch us make love in the mirror. She readily agreed so I took her hand and led her into the soft candlelight.

As she was looking at herself in the mirror, I walked up behind her and began kissing her neck, cupping her breasts in my hands.
‘Do you want me inside you?’

I gently bent her over and guided my cock into her pussy. We moved slowly at first, enjoying the scene that was playing out. She was transfixed on the image in the mirror in front of her, an almost dreamy look on her face. Seeing her face in the mirror, as it twisted slightly with pleasure, looking down at my hard cock disappearing inside her, the curve of her exquisite ass, her thong pulled to the side, her nylon covered legs; I have to admit it was one of the most erotic moments in my life.

Slowly, I picked up the pace of my thrusting and began talking to her.

‘Do you like watching yourself being taken from behind? Seeing your beautiful face as it twists with the pleasure I’m giving you’
‘Oh god yes…this is so incredible…I love how I look.’
‘Good baby, I want you to see how you look when I’m fucking you.’

With that, I picked up my pace. At this point, I’d learned about where her threshold was. She started moaning softly as I continued to fuck her. I could tell she was just on the edge but needed a bit more stimulation to cum.

‘Does that feel good, baby?’
‘Yes sir.’

Picking up the pace a bit, I could feel her getting closer. But I wasn’t giving her quite enough to make her cum and I could feel her frustration as she started to shove her ass back to make me fuck her harder.

‘Do you want to cum, slut?’
‘Yesssss, I’m so close.’
‘Tell me what you want.’
‘Make me cum; I need to cum.’
‘You need to beg for it, like a good girl.’
‘Please make me cum! I want to cum so bad, baby.’

The dirty talk was getting her even more worked up but I held back just enough to keep her from cumming. Finally, I increased my rhythm a bit, edging her closer to the orgasm that was building inside her. After making her beg just a bit longer, I thrust hard enough to give her the release she desperately wanted. She came with a scream and a shudder so violent I had to hold her steady to prevent her from falling.

Without giving her much of a rest, I grabbed her hair and pulled her so she was parallel to the large mirror. I wanted her to have a ringside seat to see me entering her. With some additional humiliation and pain, I was rewarded with another intense orgasm that gripped my cock inside her pussy.

After the mirror interlude, we took a short break for some much needed wine and other sustenance. Once we were both refreshed, our debauchery resumed in earnest as we worked our way through various positions, sweating, moaning, spanking…

Finally, I threw her on her back at the edge of the bed with her ass just at the edge, allowing me to stand on the floor and penetrate her while her legs were over my shoulders. I grabbed her hips and thrust as deep as I could; slow at first. Picking up speed, Amber began to moan and thrash on the bed. She groped at her breasts, twisting her nipples to maximize the intensity. Soon, her legs locked around my shoulders and she screamed that she was cumming. I kept fucking her and began telling her what a good little she was, laying on the bed, with her legs in the air, and taking my hard cock deep inside her. I kept fucking her and reached down to play with her clit, causing her to thrash even more wildly.

‘Fuck, I’m cumming, baby. I love your cock inside me…OOOOooooohhhnnnn….’

Seeing this gorgeous blonde writhing on my bed and watching my cock battering her pussy was finally getting to me. I told her I was going to cum soon.

‘Cum all over me. I want to feel you shoot your load all over my belly and tits!’
‘You want me to make sure you know who owns you?’
‘Yes, I’m YOUR dirty little . Cum all over me and make me yours.’

Well, that was all it took. I pulled my cock out of her and came. After fucking for almost two hours off and on, I shot a huge load all over her belly and tits. She rubbed my cum all over her tits and promptly passed out. I even had to take off her stockings for her.

All in all, a pretty fun weekend.
Posted:Mar 7, 2014 8:24 am
Last Updated:Oct 4, 2022 7:9 pm

Since I’ve gotten little encouragement from those reading my previous posts, I’ve decided to do a real blog. That means spewing whatever comes out of my head, with little regard for grammar, truth, or structure and, most importantly, call myself a writer. As a warning, those who expect political correctness should attend a democratic party fundraiser instead of reading further. I wont mince words and insult both sexes equally.

People fascinate me in how they interact with one another. Their actions and what drove them to that action, that kind of thing. This fascination probably came from having been married to someone with undiagnosed borderline personality disorder. Having gone through that, which I wouldn’t wish on most people, I’ve become much more in tune with the whole mental process of a + b = c reaction. This skill has annoyed the hell out of some. For example, I was chatting, one day, to a woman I was dating about relationships and realized she had abandonment issues. When I shared this with her, she naturally said I was out of my mind. Well, later that week, she saw her own therapist who, she told me, agreed with me. There are times I should probably use this skill more but, in some cases, I don’t give a shit why you did what you did. You’re a dick and go away.

This insight has also served me well on occasion, allowing me to spot the insanity in some women I’ve dated. Unfortunately, it’s not always been heeded because, since my divorce, I’ve wound up dating a bi polar, a closet alcoholic, and someone with borderline tendencies. However, there have been times where I’ve seen the signs and run. However, being able to explain to people why they do things did get my ex-wife to stop bothering me, which if you know anything about BPD, is a real accomplishment. What makes things challenging, in the dating world, is that the crazies tend to be the ones that draw you in with their siren’s song. They’re usually the most interesting (at the beginning) but I can tell you from personal experience, the old adage that crazy chicks are better in the sack isn’t always true. And nothing sucks worse than being involved with a nutcase who’s also a bad lay.

So, where is this leading? In a roundabout way (okay, not really but see first paragraph regarding guarantees of quality writing) it dovetails into what’s been rattling around my head the past few days. That topic is why men don’t get laid and/or why women think men are pigs.

It probably makes sense to put what I’m about to toss out into some perspective. First of all, I’m talking about the general dating world, not necessarily Senior Sizzle. I’m also writing in the context of meeting women on dating sites; meeting someone randomly is so 1990’s. So, we’re talking about when you’re just meeting someone and the potential relationship is new. Also, a bit about me. I’m pretty much an average guy. Average height, decent body but will never have a six pack, average size package. However, I get laid more than I probably should. This isn’t to brag but to establish where I’m coming from. I’d be (more) full of shit in writing this were I a virgin or a male model with a massive unit.

Despite telling myself I wouldn’t, I’ve come back after writing most of this piece to provide some further context. This mass of words should be taken the context of two people meeting with the possibility of having a relationship of some sort. This could be anything from fwb to long term. My goal is not to provide a ‘guide to nail chicks’ but rather how not to shoot yourself in the foot before you get started. It will probably progress, in later blogs, how to better please your partner. I hold zero expectation that guys will read it because we all think we’re the bomb in the sack.

Furthermore, in the interest of full disclosure, I’ll be the first to admit that I haven’t been all that successful on this site. As noted, I have neither a set of rock hard abs nor a massive schwanz, so trying to compete against a hundred guys who do for the few worthwhile women on this site doesn’t make for good odds. Sure, I’ve gotten laid a few times as a result of being on here and probably could increase that number if I actually put some effort into interacting with the female contingent. But, in all honesty, the sex I have had from here wasn’t all that great. One nighters tend not to work for me for reasons I’ll get into later. Plus, at the risk of going into a rant mode, it’s tough to get motivated to reach out to women whose profiles have a close up of their tits and ‘just looking for some fun’ as the only text in their profile. I’d rather go elsewhere, for the most part.

So, in somewhat random order, I’ll spew some of the insight I’ve gathered in the dating / sex realm, beyond Senior Sizzle.

Guys, first of all, learn to kiss. I’ve heard more than a few women tell me that they know whether they’ll sleep with a guy after the first few kisses. Why? Because, for the most part, men fuck like they kiss from what I’ve been told (haven’t given much thought to the female side of the equation; I’ll get back to you on this one). If you show zero finesse, immediately shoving your tongue down a woman’s throat, she figures you’re going to do the same in the sack. ‘This guy’s gonna stick his dick in me and cum before I can get off.’ On the other hand, if you’re too timid, well you can figure that one out.

Second, don’t mention sex right off the bat. Most women I’ve dated complain that men start talking about sex before they’ve even met in person. Guys actually ask a woman they haven’t met how soon they’re going to get laid once they do meet. Some apparently ask to meet immediately to have sex. Anyone who’s that clueless deserves to spend Saturday night with some hand cream and internet porn as his companions. The biggest secret that guys need to keep in mind is, in general, women want sex just as much as men; more in some cases. But they don’t want to feel like you’re just looking for somewhere to stick your cock and they happen to be handy. They don’t want to think you’re out fucking anyone you can. Reversing that, guys generally don’t want to think the girl they’re with (regardless of relationship status) is banging a bunch of other guys. That’s because of insecurity. And in general, guys are much more insecure than women. Guys may be more inclined to want a no strings relationship but they also want to be the only one in her bedroom. I’ve been surprised to find that women are less likely to care about multiple partners. The dynamic probably has to do with guys not being confident they’re good in the sack and women figuring they rock. We’ll revisit that topic later. Anyway, I make it a point not to bring up sex first.

True story to emphasize the point: I was chatting on the phone, for the first time, with a woman I’d met online. She asked me point blank when I was going to bring up / solicit sex from her because that’s what most guys do (she obviously hated that). I told her that I know the secret that women want it as much as guys do and that I’ve never had to bring up sex first because women almost always do it for me. Next thing you know, she’s got me telling her what I’d do to her and could I come over tonight?

What I’ve found to be a great way of finding out whether a woman is fun in the sack (and opening the door to chatting about sex) is to talk about kissing her; wanting to kiss her. In general, women love to have their necks kissed and even talking about it can get her mind into ‘sexland’. Knowing how to do that can start a launch sequence that provides a really hot ride. You start talking about that (slowly, knowing when the time is right) and the next thing you know, you’re having really dirty phone sex with a smoking hot blonde who wants to call you ‘Daddy’. Your mileage may vary though.

Also, find out what women want from you as a person. I would never advocate pretending to be something you’re not in order to get laid but you should be able to tell what part of you appeals most to the woman you’re with. And that will vary for the same reason ice cream makers have more than two flavors. Be perceptive to the signals she’s sending when you talk about different things, whether that be loving animals or shooting a guy in Reno just to see him die. Do more of the stuff she sends signals that she likes. Less of what she doesn’t. Pretty easy but some people (men and women) don’t get it.

I’ll stop here for a sec to harp on the women and the complaints from men. First of all, women who treat sex with her as a prize should be shown the door. Sex is not a reward for convincing you that I’m a good match, rather part of finding out if we’re a good match. I’m not going to know whether I’m truly interested in you until I find out if we’re sexually compatible as well as compatible in other ways. Sex is part of the getting to know you phase. And personally, I’m not going to date you for two months only to find out you’re horrible in the sack. Yes, this has happened to me. That’s not to say I want to jump right in the sack with a woman. I need a date or two to figure out if we enjoy spending an evening with each other before we head to the bedroom.

Oh, one more thing I’ve found, with very few exceptions, is that those women who say they love to give head and are really good at it aren’t. I’m not saying this to insult anyone. It’s just an observation. And they’ll never know because what kind of stupid would a guy have to be to tell a woman she gave mediocre head. You gotta be careful about that shit. But there are ways to modify behavior, which I’ll cover later.

Since we’ve turned out attention to the women for a bit…I hear from women that most men aren’t good in the sack. Well, sorry to tell you this, women, but a lot of women I’ve been with ain’t all that great, themselves. That prize they think they’re holding isn’t. Like the blowjob claim, the women who say they love sex and need it a lot tend to be not very good at it. I was dating a woman who made the ‘I love sex and need a lot of it’ statement and it was all I could do not to respond with ‘why? You’re not that good at it.’

This was a bit longer than I figured it would be but, hey I was on a roll….
Lost Weekend - Part 2
Posted:Jan 29, 2014 12:50 pm
Last Updated:Jul 17, 2021 8:41 am

Part 2
This is the second installment of the true story about my Lost Weekend. While everything I’ve written actually took place that weekend, I reserve the right to abbreviate or where I think appropriate. As an example, the story becomes a bit redundant, sharing my partner’s third or fourth orgasm in any one position. Likewise, there were several ‘interludes’ that weekend and I honestly don’t feel like writing a novel, so some things I found to be interesting may be combined. Hope you enjoy and leave feedback.

After a bit of a break, for more wine and a snack, the heat between the two of us began to build again. We were nowhere near being done with one another on that first night. While the heat was intensifying, she reached down and wrapped her hand around my shaft, a small moan escaping as she stroked it. I asked her if she wanted it inside her again. As she leaned in so her lips were all but touching my ear, I heard ‘mmm,hmm’.

I told her to bend over on her hands and knees, that I was going to take her from behind. Positioning myself, I gazed down appreciatively at her perfect, tight, young ass. Moving forward, as I penetrated her once again, she moaned in appreciation. Starting with slow movements, I gradually began picking up both my speed and intensity, grabbing her hips so she could feel me deep inside her. She began to moan more loudly as I fucked her harder. Remembering what she had told me earlier, I raised my right hand and slapped her ass. Her breath caught from both the surprise and pain. I told her she was a dirty girl who needed a spanking and proceeded to slap her ass a few more times, each swat being progressively harder than the one before.
“Do you like that?” I asked.
She half panted, “Yes, I deserve to be treated like the slut I am.”
“You like having a hard cock fucking you and your ass spanked, don’t you?”
At that point, she didn’t respond; I knew from the way she was moaning that she was going to cum soon.
“God, you’re such a . Taking a hard cock from behind and being spanked like a slut. Are you going to cum for me? Cum all over my cock, like the you are.”
At that moment, her walls tightened up, gripping my cock like a vise, and I knew she was cumming.
She began to moan loudly as her orgasm ripped through her. I said ‘that’s it, scream like a for me. I want to hear how good my cock makes you cum.’
She continued to moan even louder and her hips made sharp, involuntary jerks as her orgasm peaked and began to subside. Without giving her any time to recover, I began to fuck her again, this time pounding her right off the bat. I continued to spank her ass, then reached up and gathered a handful of her long blonde hair. I began pulling on it, as she had asked me to do early on. I asked her if she liked having her hair pulled, like a dirty slut. In between short moans and pants, she breathed ‘harder’. I pulled harder, harder, harder. The sounds she made as I fucked her hard from behind and pulled her hair alternated between whimpers of pain and moans of pleasure. I knew she couldn’t keep this up for long and, sure enough, I could feel her begin to grip me tighter. As she came, I once again, told her how much of a dirty she was. The more I told her how good of a slut she was, the louder she moaned.

During this interlude, I felt an almost involuntary transition in both of us. Watching this young girl seemingly become more aroused the more I dominated and degraded her raised my lust to the point where I truly became her ‘owner’. Likewise, I felt that she had become to trust me enough to allow that dynamic.

This led to me looking at her and saying ‘you’re going to prove you’re completely my slut; I want your ass. You need to feel me everywhere.’
I have to admit to being a bit surprised by what came out of my mouth. Anal sex tends to be something discussed, and agreed upon, by both parties (mainly the woman) before it takes place. I’ve had partners who ranged from ‘no way, no how’ to ‘if you get me drunk enough’ to ‘stick it wherever it’ll fit’. While I assumed a role in the bedroom, I’m still a gentleman and would have stopped at any point she told me to.

Anyway, she looked at me with panic in her eyes.
‘I’ve….never done that.’
Okay, here’s the line that she’s going to draw….
‘You need to go very slowly…..’

Even though my cock was drenched from Amber cumming all over it, I decided that a copious amount of lube was in order. Applying it to all the necessary areas, I began to slowly push myself against her tight hole. I could tell she was still tense so I talked to her in an attempt to relax her. Slowly, could feel her relaxing and I began to probe a bit further. Finally, the head of my cock slid past her ring; that’s where I held it for a moment, asking if she was okay. Eventually, I slid my cock deeper to which she responded with a few whimpers. I continued to talk to her, saying how hot it was and how good of a dirty girl she was being.
As my cock hit bottom, she turned around and said ‘Oh my god, you’re in my….ass.’
I said ‘yes, it’s my cock that’s in your ass’.
I began to fuck her slowly at first.
‘Fuck baby, your ass feels so good around my cock. Thank you for giving it to me.’
We settled into a rhythm as I fucked her tight ass, watching my cock disappear with each thrust.
Eventually, I realized she wasn’t getting as much pleasure out of things as I was, so I told her to reach down and touch herself. ‘Show me how much of a dirty girl you are. Finger your pussy while I fuck your ass.’
She played with her clit a bit and began to moan softly.
‘Put your finger inside your pussy baby.’
Following my orders, she slid a finger inside and immediately gasped ‘god, I can feel your cock from my pussy. Oh fuck, every time you thrust it shoves my finger against my g-spot.’
‘Stick another finger in.’
Amber obeyed and gasped again. ‘Oh fuck, I feel so full. This feels amazing! Keep fucking me baby.’
‘Good girl, Amber. You like feeling full, don’t you? I bet you’d like to have two cocks inside you.’
‘Unnhhhf’ was all that came out of her mouth.
‘One hard cock in your pussy and one in your ass. You want two cocks, slut? You want to be a fucking with two cocks in you? Maybe another one in your mouth?’
That was all it took to trigger her to a massive orgasm.
It took all I had to hold onto her as she thrashed in front of me screaming, ‘Oh fuck I’m cumming!! Owwweeeww!!!!’
Finally, I decided it was my turn and said ‘I’m going to cum inside you. Shoot my load deep in your ass so you know who it belongs too. Oh fuck….’
My cumming seemed to trigger a smaller, second orgasm for Amber. She thrashed a bit more and then collapsed on the bed, where she stayed until the next morning.
The Lost Weekend
Posted:Jan 4, 2014 2:50 pm
Last Updated:Oct 21, 2016 3:12 pm

Regardless of whether you remember the night before or not, you can generally tell how good it was by examining your surroundings when you wake up. It must have been a pretty good night because, scattered around my bedroom were empty wine glasses/bottles, lingerie, and a digital camera. Of course, the dead giveaway of how great the night had been was the young blonde sleeping next to me. This was the culmination of three days of almost non-stop debauchery that I’ve come to refer to as ‘The Lost Weekend’.

The blonde occupying the other side of the bed was named Amber. She was gorgeous, petite, and about a dozen years younger than me. I had met her a week before and things had gotten hot very quickly. There were a few things that I noticed about Amber early on. She loved her own reflection and that she was a drama queen. Having been around the block a few times, I knew these attributes would make for some noteworthy moments in the bedroom; and I wasn’t wrong.

When I sat down to write the narrative of the weekend, I became surprised at the amount of time required to do a story justice. I refused to write a typical guy account of ‘I fucked her a bunch of times’ but didn’t want to devolve into excess flowery exposition. I’ve tried to frame it in such a way that I would get turned on by reading it. This is Part 1 of the story of the lost weekend. I’ll do my best to provide additional installments as time allows.

As Amber and I got to know one another, the topic of sex inevitably came up. Amber shared her desire to be treated like my dirty little , complete with spanking and hair pulling. She truly was a drama queen and very submissive.

The first evening of The Lost Weekend was also the first time she and I were intimate. The sexual tension had built to a fever pitch in the preceding week so we both considered a night of passion a ‘done deal’. After eating the dinner I prepared, we sat down in my living room with some wine. Small talk quickly gave way to kissing. The romantic soft kisses didn’t last long and quickly became more urgent, with our tongues as if in some battle to the death. I slowly brought my left hand down and brushed the back of it across her breast. One of the most erotic things for me is when a woman’s breath catches and Amber’s did that in response to my touch. My touch on her breasts became more aggressive as my lips trailed their way down to her neck, exploring, cupping, groping. Feeling like a , I reached up under her top, undid her bra and released her breasts. Fondling at first, flicking my thumb across each nipple. Then I began rolling her nipples between my thumb and forefinger. Remembering what she’d told me, I became a little rougher with my touch, pinching her erect nipples harder and harder. She communicated her appreciation with a series of whimpers.

After a few more moments of playing with her breasts, I slid my hand down and onto her thigh. She responded with a receptive sigh. Sliding my hand around the outer side, slowly moving to the top. Then I slid my hand down to her inner thigh and slowly stroked back and forth, each pass moving further up than the other. Past her stockings, under her skirt. At that point, all pretenses were gone as she opened her legs to allow my touch. I could taste the anticipation in her kiss. Lightly brushing my fingers across the front of her soaking wet satin panties, another catch, this time with a little shiver. Her hips began to rotate forward, wanting more of my touch. More pressure. I began working little circles with my fingers across her panties. Her breathing continued to deepen and become more ragged in response to what I was doing with my lips and hands. She began to moan softly into my mouth while holding onto me for dear life. Finally, she whispered in my ear ‘I need you inside me’. I asked her if she still wanted to be my dirty little and she breathed ‘oh God, yes’. I took her hand and led her to my bedroom.

Inside the bedroom, I finished the job of removing her clothes and set about making her my dirty little . Grabbing her shoulders, I pushed her down to her knees and told her to suck my cock like a good little slut. She responded with a submissive ‘yes sir’, unzipped my pants, and pulled out my hard cock. Wrapping her hand around me, she began by kissing my engorged head, licking the shaft, eventually taking all of me in her mouth. I decided a true slut would want all of me in her mouth so I grabbed her head and began fucking her mouth, shoving it all the way in and down her throat. She began to gag and cough so I asked her if I should stop. She responded ‘no, this is what sluts do for their man’. I told her she was a good little and that she sucked my cock so well, that she must have sucked a lot of other cocks to get this good. After another few minutes of devouring me, she looked up and said ‘please fuck me, sir….I need your cock inside me.’

I pushed her onto the bed and lowered myself on top of her. Making her tell me one more time how much she wanted me inside her. I put my arms around her and slowly lowered myself, my cock just beginning to penetrate her now dripping pussy. I looked her in the eyes and asked ‘is this what you want, slut?’

‘Yes, sir. Please give it to me.’

With that, I drove my cock all the way into her. I started with slow thrusts and she began to moan in response. I would speed up from time to time until I could feel her begin to tighten up and her breathing stop. Then I’d back off just a bit barely preventing her from cumming. After about ten minutes of this, I could sense her frustration and asked her if she wanted to cum. She responded with a feeble ‘yes’ to which I replied ‘Tell me what you want. Do you want me to make your pussy cum? Is that what you want? To cum like a dirty ?’

‘Oh God yes! Please fuck me and make me cum. I’m a dirty little slut and need to get off.’

I began to increase the speed and intensity of my thrusts. Her body responded immediately and I could tell she was moments away from an orgasm. I looked at her again and asked ‘are you gonna cum for me?’

‘Yes, I’m so close.’

‘Then cum all over my hard cock. Show me how good I’m fucking you. I want you to scream like the cheap you are. Cum for me, Amber.’

That was all it took to trigger her massive orgasm. She started screaming that she was cumming but I already knew because her pussy gripped my cock harder. Her body thrashed under mine as her orgasm ripped through her; she continued to scream as I fucked her harder. When I didn’t stop thrusting my cock into her, I could tell she wasn’t quite sure what to do. When I sensed her apprehension, I looked at her again and told her I was fucking her pussy until I was done with it. ‘Isn’t that what whores want? To be used and fucked by a hard cock over and over?’ As expected, this triggered another orgasm for her. I could tell it was even more intense by the way she was clawing at my back and drenching my cock. I didn’t need to order her to scream this time because she did it on her own. After her orgasm had subsided, I gave us both a short break.

After the break, I told her to get on top of me so I could watch her hips rotate on my cock.

‘Put my cock where you want it, dirty girl. I want to see you fuck it and get yourself off like a good slut.’

She climbed on my cock and began moving her hips, looking for it to touch her the way she wanted. I moved my head up and gently licked her left nipple which increased her quiet moans a bit. When I stopped, she looked at me and said ‘suck my tits. Put them in your mouth. I want you to bite them so I can watch.’

I did as she asked and after a few more minutes, she announced that she was going to cum again. I truly enjoyed watching her face contort as she orgasmed. Before that one completely subsided, I grabbed her hips and roughly pulled her down on my cock as far as I could, driving me deep inside her. Again, she looked a bit panicked but I continued to work her hips on my cock. It was then she started to moan like a good little slut. I looked up at her and said ‘is this what you needed? Fucked by someone who knows how to treat a slut like you?’
‘Fuck yes! I love the way you fuck me like a ! Keep fucking me…please! I want to cum again.’
‘Do you want me to make you cum? You want to get off and scream like a dirty slut again?’
‘Oh fuck yes! I’m your dirty little , sir. Fuck me however you want. Play with my tits.’
‘No, I want to watch you play with them. Pinch your nipples nice and hard for me. My dirty girl needs to feel some pain to cum.’

From her hesitation, I could tell she’d never touched herself in front of anyone before. I told her again to play with her tits, ensuring she knew it was not a request.
Those next few moments were amazing to watch. As I began to fuck her from underneath, she started to caress her breasts, pinch her nipples, harder, harder…. And then she completely let herself go, no longer caring about having any control, reveling in being my dirty little . Riding my cock as hard as I was fucking her, a look of pure euphoria in her eyes.
It didn’t take long for another orgasm to rip through her but I didn’t allow her to take a break. I maintained my grip on her beautiful hips and worked her on my cock. She screamed as another orgasm ripped through her. Spurring her on with more talk of how good of a fuck toy she was, she came again, this time, digging her nails into my chest. I released her hips and she collapsed on top of me, her breath remained ragged as she recovered from my efforts. After a few minutes, she picked her head up, looked at me, and said ‘no one has ever fucked me like that before. I can’t believe how many times you made me cum!’
I gazed deep into her eyes and responded ‘and I’m nowhere near done.’
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