Guy What Takes His Time // 1:31 – 2:00

I fully admit we haven’t been “in the lifestyle” very long. But I’d like to think we’ve already experienced the full spectrum of what’s out there on a small-scale. Or I did before we met Mr. Taurus.

If you can’t tell, I’m pretty used to get what I want, when I want it. I’m lucky (and smart) enough to have maintained this level of spoilt/bratdom through out my life. So when someone tells me I can’t do something or have something, all it does it make me dig my heels in. I’ve come to find its something that’s a core personality trait and one that can totally be used against me in rare instances when I *really* want whatever it is I’ve set my sights on.

With that said, in walks an extremely sexy 38 yr old with experience in non-monogamy, a hard-on for/knowledge of horror, video games AND a set of culinary skills that make me look like a little kid playing cook in the kitchen. You could have knocked me over with a feather when I realized just how much I wanted to keep this one coming back to us.

After talking for a couple of weeks and finding out I actually liked him as a full human being & not just for that sweet, sweet trouser meat, we finally coaxed him out on a date. With one catch: the complete and total understanding that he didn’t want to actually fuck. Just meet up, feel each other out & see if he was interested in going past that. Now, I’m sure some perverts out there are screaming at their screens or smirking to themselves thinking who would pass up an opportunity for free pussy. But hear me out on this…I have very rarely in my life been as turned on as when I left that date.

We met him at my favorite dive bar and started out the evening as naturally & comfortably as I ever remember a date going. Sat down next to him & instantly felt like this was someone I could vibe with on most if not all levels. He properly introduced himself, set his boundaries clear as day and explained a couple of things that had come up in the weeks we’d been talking over text. I did my best not to stumble over my words as I tried to do the same, but my mind kept drifting to the thought of how fun it would be to kiss him.

At some point during the evening I finally just interrupted the flow and asked if I could. Out of all the fun we’ve had in the last couple of months, for not dropping any dick on me, this guy absolutely blew me out of the water with that first kiss and each one after. Shortly after that he got comfortable enough to move in & rest his hand my thigh. Of course my devious little ass kept trying to push it further and further up. He didn’t seem to mind or protest, as we sat there with his pinky, rubbing ever-so-fuckin’-lightly over my pussy through my skin tight shorts. I couldn’t help letting him know with a whisper in his ear just how badly I wanted all of him, right then and there.

A few more kisses and bit of chit-chatting later, we said our goodbyes. I walked out of that place with my pussy one teasing away from soaking through my short-shorts. W & I made it back to our car and had barely closed the doors when we both started pointing out reasons we’d like to meet up with him again that didn’t surround finding out how good he can sling dick. But definitely also that.

We pulled into the driveway, did our normal post-date night routines & met up in the bedroom where I all but sat on his chest & demanded he glove up & finger/fist fuck me in between breaks from me getting face fucked and choked. Three hours of me getting violated in such an amazing way literal tears are streaking down my face, my pussy is throbbing & my throat feels like a Mortal Kombat fighter got ahold of it. I greedily chased one more orgasms & finally felt like I can finally drift off to sleep to dream about the night I actually get Mr. Taurus all to myself behind closed doors.

This Hurts // 0:23 – 0:38

Let me start off by saying, there’s been no real system or list of boxes to check with who we go out on dates with. If they trip my trigger enough to want to fuck them, for whatever reason AND they can stay within the boundaries we set, it’s all but certain I will be scratching graffiti into their back eventually. And with that loose, literal “Fuck the World” attitude we found Good Christian Boy. Or rather, he found us.

After making a post to a certain front page of the internet that had a local forum on it, he was one of the first to take real interest and initiative. A 24 yr old from a tiny town in the Midwest with a small masochistic streak who was the first genuine freak we’d met, even if he didn’t have much real world experience under his belt.

After chatting for a few days & showing him we are very real and I am very fuckin’ horny, he offered to drive an absurdly long way to fuck my brains out. What actually happened was me fuckin’ his brains out, but if I’m honest is totally fine too. The whole thing was like an all you can Chinese buffet, even if you get full there by the time you get home you’re fist deep in a bag of Lucky Charms.

After seeing some pictures of what he had to offer, it quickly went from the on-site messenger to text & Snapchat. Eventually leading to a video chat where W laid in bed next to me as we discussed all number of ungodly things. I showed him my toy collection (cackled at his recoiling from my crucifix dildo) & let him pick my dress for the night we were meeting him. Of course he picked the most conservative dress I own, rightfully dubbed the Easter Dress. I have nothing but curiosity for people who find and keep religion & he was definitely playing into that whether he knew it or not.

The night finally came and I had to find a way to sneak an entire small child sized purse full of dildos, vibrators & lube out of the house and into the tiny car sitting in our driveway. If it wasn’t for W being my partner in crime with the sexual shenanigans I’ve done (and he’s watched), there’s no way I could successfully pull this off.

We piled ourselves and our equipment for the evening into the car & started towards our date for the evening as I sent him some texts to try to make sure he made it to the bar in one piece and gotten himself comfortable. Once we walked in, it was pretty clear he had. I walked up and following through on (almost) exactly what I said I would do planted a big, lip gloss filled kiss on his confused face. We made our way to a booth, dragging him along with us & sat down to get the night started.

Now that I’ve rudely set the tone for this entry, come with me if you would to a dimly lit dive bar (again) somewhere in South Lite™, USA. I had spent the last 36 hrs or so sans panties or a bra (harder to get away with in my house than you’d think) and showed up to our little date still abiding by the rules set before hand. Understandably, he wanted to get to know us (explain himself?) a little before we did the deed. Nervous small talk & drinking go hand in hand after all. All I could think to do is try to keep teasing his hand up my skirt.

This is where I got to really *meet* GCB, a truly heartbroken, repressed slut who really, really needed a good distraction. As it so happens, that’s my main talent. I had decided on maybe my second drink that if he agreed I was going to give him (almost) everything he’d asked for in the last few days leading up to our meet up. I made it my mission to reign good sexual karma down on him and get out some of my pent-up aggression from the last week of being someone’s digital fuck toy.

We headed to the hotel & I quickly jumped on top of GBC, letting W figure out what to do with all the stuff we’d just hauled up here. I was on top & riding his dick like I’d wanted to all night within a matter of minutes after the room door closed behind us. I started getting close to cumming for the first time pretty quickly as I felt my nails dig into the soft flesh on his chest. I pumped myself up and down on his cock, feeling my cum build up on his balls in a little puddle until he came. I rolled off & tried to sort out exactly where I’d thrown my dress so I could grab my drink & go out for a smoke with W to gaze cum drunk at the sunset.

This is generally how the rest of the evening went until I had completely worn GCB out and drained his balls to the best of my slutty abilities. But a few notable firsts were: he was the first *male* ass I’ve eaten, finger & plug fucked. While I’ll admit I probably came at the opportunity that is similar to the same blind enthusiasm a teenage boy has when presented with a consenting hole for the first time, but I maintain that my ass eating skills has only gotten better with age.

And riding someone while knowing they have roughly the same sized plug in their ass (although notably less profane in design) is a lot hotter than I imagined it would be. And how much guys can CUM with someone or something playing with their ass is another thing I wasn’t aware, but am now in total awe of. Mother Nature really played a sick joke on y’all when she put your g-spots in your assholes and then set you up to have the mind frame that playing with it was bad or weird.

His choking skills were what impressed me the most & his love of doing it probably what got me to cum so many times. He fell somewhere between “he knows what he’s doing” & “this is totally the move Ted Bundy used to incapacitate women…” Which, come to find out for me is the perfect Goldilocks zone of breath control. Turn me into your’ human squeaky toy by wrapping your hand *just like that* around my throat & shoving your cock as deep into me as you can, fuck yes. That’s as close as my sinful ass will even get to Heaven.

After fully exhausting my Good Little Christian Boy (who is actually like 6ft something), we left him to guilt scroll through his phone & sleep it off in the room for the night. We headed back home, earlier than usual to the surprise of The Old People™ & I hopped in the shower. I got all myself (and my toys) all squeaky clean and we headed upstairs so W could fuck my sloppy little pussy to sleep for the night.

Make Me Cum // 0:12 – 0:19

After the dizzyingly good experience that was B, I was anxious to see what else was out there. If I could find one of him, I could find more just as easily, right? God, I’m a fucking idiot sometimes.

Enter the very big dicked Mr. Mackey. We met him on our usual site & chatted for an evening the same week we were due to meet up with B. Set a meet up date for the following weekend & once the day came I got all prettied up and we headed out the door. No real communication or interest shown on his part (or mine really). Big dick meet eager, free pussy. You know the drill.

After the first person to random ditch out, I was nervous. I knew that was just part of doing this, most people talk a big game and very few can back it up. Not everyone can fuck a total stranger while her happy husband watches and that’s okay, we’re not expecting everyone to. But let me say this now, if it isn’t something you think you’ll be okay with or even get into, do not fuckin’ do it. You’re gonna have a bad time even if you are able to cum and I think Mr. Mackey is a prime example of that.

The first half of the night is honestly the most interesting or it was for me at least. We showed up at the spot he was meeting us a couple hours early & had dinner and drinks. Eager to test out my new found freedom and not thinking Mr. Mackey would actually show, I stumbled my way to the brave/stupid level of being drunk and started to eye fuck anything in the room that seemed of interesting. But I’m sure it came off more Ted Bundy than Peg Bundy because I’m a little rusty from years in monogamy. Up until a month or two ago, I didn’t even pick up on when I was being checked out in public.

The night wears on, I realize to my dismay I’m bad at IRL hitting on men AND women & Mr. Mackey keeps pushing us off. He’d been at work all day before and then was meeting us so we tried to cut him as much time slack as possible. Finally, he shows & seems…completely unsure of what he’s doing there with us. I ask him what has become the standard test questions: who is your favorite comedian and least favorite serial killer. He gives me what I’d now consider non-passable answers, but I’m drunk enough & he’s cute enough to where I don’t care.

We move from the original bar to one that’s has extremely unique décor that I love. Dollar bills stapled everywhere & a dive bar vibe to die for. I sip my drink occasionally looking up into a sky full of capitalism and excess while we exchange some awkward small talk. The night wears on, he tries his best to keep up in conversation, but extremely apparent (to me) if we were meeting up for a normal date, I’d have called it quits by now. But I’m more than willing to put aside almost any personality flaws for a big dick or pretty lady. I’d like to say this isn’t a mistake I’ll make again, but I think we both know that’s a fuckin’ lie. To put a spin on the immortal words of John Waters: sometimes boring & cute is enough.

Sipping on the last of my Screwdriver from the Dollar Den, I ask if he’d like to get a hotel & have some fun. That was the whole point of this exercise, wasn’t it? He agrees and we stumble out the door. I pull him to the side and step up on my tippy toes to make out with him while W walks off to get the car ready. I’ll give Mr. Mackey props, personality wise we were the non-attracting kind of opposites, but the way he kissed made me dripping wet. Any apprehension I had left my head & off to the hotel we went.

He was gentlemanly enough to stop by & grab some more booze for him and me. And decent booze at that. We meet up and crash into the room, W getting his normal spot ready and turning on the TV. After the first experience W had, he knows now that every hotel I’m in is going to get the full vocal effect of me getting my brains fucked out if it’s done right and he wants to make sure none of our temporary neighbors think I’m being murdered. He wisely turns on the TV to Comedy Central a.k.a. The South Park Channel & cranks the volume. I was so ready to finally be fucked senseless that I didn’t even notice at first.

Clothes were thrown to the wayside, & I finally got to see what I was working with in person. It’s glorious. A fat, long, meaty cock for me attempt to wrap my holes around. Wrapped & ready to go I climb on top & squish it into me. I start riding away, grinding my hips until I get closer and closer to cumming. I’ll admit, at this point, I’m not really paying attention to him. It’s very clear, this is a O.a.D experience, but if you’re this far into it & the only problem is the guy seeming vaguely uninterested, you got to see that shit through. I pound my way to loud, orgasm on top, thumping my ass into his thighs while cartoon Mr. Mackey lectures the boys about some dumb thing or another on the TV. I feel the familiar wave of good brain chemicals sweep down my spine & into my needy little body and I start urging him to cum. Begging for it. He grabs my hips & pushes into me, I can feel the little condom nub rub against the bottom of my clit. I giggle & climb off, out of breathe after having given my thighs the work out of their life.

I collapsed on the bed besides him, took a sip of my drink and realized: this guy is definitely out of his element. Post-nut clarity as it’s finest. I do my best to work another play session out of him, but either the beer he grabbed hit him harder than he thought or the fact another dude was watching him pound a chick finally crept it’s way inside of his head and took root. Maybe it finally dawned on him that he was balls deep in a girl who’s test questions had been: his favorite comedian and least favorite serial killer & maybe, just maybe, post-cum he realized that was definitely not his bag.

After a small break, I had him gloved up again & back on top. From W’s account of things I was moan-yelling at him to go harder/faster (which with that cock, he definitely could have) & he just sorta…didn’t. W thought it was hilarious, my pussy on the other hand did not. After that I threw in the towel & accepted my fate of a single orgasm. I mean, it was a good one, but I’m greedy. Even if he just wants me to use him like a human dildo & starfish the whole time, I’m still down to try and get mine more than once.

Playtime ended disappointingly fast after that. I gave him one more regrettable kiss goodbye & made an attempt to make nice then we got the fuck out of dodge & snuck back into the house around 3-4 am. The next day I went to send him a thank you message & found us blocked. Everywhere. I laughed my ass off and went about the rest of my day secure in the knowledge that while he may not have said anything, I successfully picked up on the vibe that he was not interested. Kudos to my socially delayed ass on that one to be honest. From the being a woman who can’t pick up on when men are hitting on her to being able to vibe check a casual sex encounter, I’d like to think I’ve come a long way for such a short time.

Like I said earlier, now a days I try to look less for dick size & more for personality. Try being the keyword, I’m still a dirty size queen slut at heart. However the knowledge I had before this still stands true: sex is so much better when you can at least tolerate each others company outside of fucking. And casual fucking is way more fun when both people are completely totally into.

Darling Nikki // 2:09 – 2:17

I won’t lie, now adays I’m well aware that when I’m in a room with B I’m even more easily distracted than usual, so this part is no surprise to me, but the only thing I remember between walking up to the room and getting started is smiling. A lot.

Once inside the room, W sat in his usual position: whatever chair the hotel/motel/temporary fuck haven has provided & I made drinks with the ugly purple-ish pink & green cheap cups I’d brought, clunking the vodka bottle clumsily back into the shitty little mini fridge after I was done. I gave B his drink and sipped on mine.

Now to get get from point A to point B, I’d honestly have to have W or B sit here with me while I write this and help me accurately remember. Because of the absolutely enjoyable combination of substances being used, the time between now – the night in question & the general excitement of the whole thing it’s all pretty fuckin’ blurry. We’d found someone exactly as advertised AND who knew his way around. It all resulted in a avalanche of orgasms & being especially obsessed with worshipping his giant cock. I came again and again all over his almost-perfect cock. It worked and worked EXTREMELY well for almost everything he wanted to do to me/have me to do him.

He dirty talked like a pro (and is the reason I realized I LOVE dirty talk), made my pussy wetter than a water fountain with little to no effort, fingered like an especially seasoned lesbian in a back alley at PRIDE & completely ruined damn near all of me in the best possible way. There’s (well edited) video footage of all this out there on the internet so if you really wanna see it for yourself…you’ll find a way.

I’ll admit, what really impressed me with B wasn’t his dick or how he knew his way around my pussy like he’d fucked it dozens of time before. It was the way he reacted to things, his personality & his general outlook on stuff. Easy going isn’t accurate enough a term to describe how well he rolled with everything thrown at him that night. I looked that man dead in his eye and threatened to fuck his mom (though I can’t remember why) with his dick buried as deep inside me as possible and he didn’t even flinch. I’m 80% sure he said something along the lines of “And I’d let you.” Needless to say, he left my pussy, myself & even W (a little bit) impressed. At some point he made me cum so loud W had to turn on the TV and blare some stupid comedy show to try and drown out my moans. 10/10, would fuck again material.

And after the surprisingly shy, vanilla & straight laced Mr. Martini the weekend before, B was a hurricane force gale of fresh air. His sense of humor matched mine, if not W’s, his dick was absolutely nothing short of something created for me to play with & worship and he made me cum in a ways that left me sore for days afterwards. I admittedly left that hotel room on shaky legs and it wasn’t from the vodka.

As we rode home, I think I was the one who brought up asking B to be our regular. The person who we can trust to come over & maintain discretion. Someone we could both trust to take me out alone and still obey boundaries. Someone we both actually liked and for more than just fucking (although, especially that). We both agreed to test him out a little more & see where it led.

W and I got home. I stumbled out of the car, still smiling and trying to adjust my clothes. We got into the house and no sooner than we had walked upstairs I was naked, riding W’s dick on extremely shaky legs, trying (and failing) to keep my moans contained to our little would-be studio apartment. I came hard more than a few more times, climbed off & licked my favorite flesh toy clean then passed out in pure bliss.

W & I knew one thing for sure: B had gotten me addicted to his cock in just one night.

Wolf Like Me // 1:34 -1:49

When we started this slutty little adventure, I’d made one thing I wanted out of it crystal clear: someone we could text/call up & trust to come over to fuck me without making a scene or causing suspicion. Someone who could take me out alone if W was busy/uninterested in sexual shenanigans that day. Our permanent living situation isn’t exactly ideal for our now-permanent lifestyle so someone I want to keep around long term is a pretty tall order.

Have I mentioned I’m weirdly lucky yet?

In waltzes B. A 23 yr old who I was so sure was actually 25 (spoiler, he isn’t) who was just my type. He pops up in my messages with a screenname I can’t resist (and won’t post here since it’s very much one he uses other places) and one of the most perfect dicks I’ve seen in my entire life. And doing camming/porn for over a decade, you see a LOOOOT of dick so I won’t claim I’m an expert yet, but I know pretty, fulfilling cock when I see it.

We meet up with him at some overpriced college bar after our first choice of venue turned out to be WAY too overpopulated with children for a Saturday night & have a couple drinks as we a watch an overpriced soon-to-be bride walk around with a bouquet of lollipops asking people if they “want a suck for a buck”. The whole game being that her and her fiancé race to see who can con the most money out the people in the bar to pay for dinner.

Life has a weirdly funny way of showing me things at just the right time for them to be genuinely hilarious.

I made a comment to our new friend B that the last bachelorette party we saw on *our* side of town, the bride and her friends were taking turns drunkenly swinging around a foot long dildo as they hit on/harassed the various bartenders and loudly screeched with joy.

“Yeah, that sounds a lot more fun than whatever this is. How can you even have a bachelorette party WITHOUT a foot long dildo to whip out and helicopter?” is one of the sentences that came out of B’s mouth that made sure my pussy would be the next thing in it.

He was so sweet, extremely cute, a little goofy and little bit of an asshole. Turns out, that’s the perfect combination to make me drip. The next thing I knew we were running to the store to grab more vodka for me & after that a hotel for everyone.

We walked into the grocery store and I quickly grabbed everything we’d need to finish off the evening with a bang. I ran around quietly giggling like an idiot while W trailed behind with a smirk on his face. We meet up at the hotel with B waiting patiently outside. We stood back as W booked the room, talking shit about whatever we can come up with to pass the time. I stood there with a stupid grin on my face, mentally undressing him and deciding what I wanted to do with him once we got up to the room.

I had absolutely no fucking idea what I was in for.

Left Brain, Right Brain // 1:47 – 2:21

We quickly (and excitedly) made our way to the dive bar Mr. Martini had in mind for the evening & took our seats towards the back. I anxiously waited & sipped on my Screwdriver while eye fucking the gorgeous waitress and complimenting her/her tattoos any chance I got. After 10 minutes inside with the music & drunken yelling, I realized I wasn’t tipsy enough to be exist in the dimly lit booze den so we made our way to the patio to finish our drinks and wait.

After sitting out in the sunshine for a few minutes, admiring the sheer amount of dogs people bring to this place we see Mr. Martini strolling up, looking fairly determined and confident. Quite the change from the puppy dog I saw in his car at the gas station parking lot a few evenings before.

He walked up, found us & got himself (and me) a drink from the bar. We sat as the sun sank down behind the shimmering, ugly buildings surrounding us, shooting the most casual of shit considering the intended outcome of the evening. W & Mr. Martini discussed work, I made dick jokes whenever the opportunity presented itself & went on a full spiel about how if Martini wants a dog & can afford a dog, why not get one.

Dusk drops around us as I suddenly put the night’s most important question on the table: are we getting a hotel room or can he host? Because I’m mostly certainly down to fuck.

Mr. Martini pipes up that he can host & his apartment is just down the street from where we were sitting. We gather ourselves together & head his way as he does the same.

We pull up to what I can only describe as something that looked like dozens of aluminum shipping crates stacked on top of each other to make a building with windows & sliding glass doors installed. We make our way through the lobby & up to his place, my eyes burning at the sudden and intense brightness with which everything inside this opulent abode is lit. A quick knock on the door & we’re inside being greeted with the perfect thing: an offer of a dirty martini (with delicious jalapeno olives) & the sound of quiet music.

I slip off my shoes and marvel my way to his living room, noticing YouTube music playing some John Popper (ew, but whatever) jam session video. I take my seat on the couch as W spies a big, single seat chair & plops down in it, taking it as his own.

Mr. Martini brings me my drink & sits down on the couch next to me with his own. W being the smart man he is realizes, not a lot is going to start with him in the room. Both of the people expected to fuck are pants shittingly nervous & while there’s no real tension in the room regarding his presence, I’ve been monogamous for well over a decade – I had no idea where to even start.

He excuses himself for a cigarette & the next thing I know, I’m kissing and groping on Mr. Martini, pulling his pants down/off. I don’t even hear W come back in, but after we take a quick breathing break from stripping down and sucking face I notice him sitting in that big, poofy chair, watching the night unfold & smiling ear-to-ear. I took this as a big, beautiful green light to proceed however I wanted to…and I did.

Most of what happened next has been lost in a blur of time, excitement & alcohol.

I remember hearing him (Mr. Martini) gasp as I took his dick in my mouth, sucking & licking it like the last popsicle of my favorite flavor from the freezer.

I remember riding him and trying not to laugh because he was very much trying to bring male porn star energy and very much had no clue how to do that.

I remember cumming at least twice. Both times from his awesomely attuned hands.

I remember taking a smoke break & having him play with my pussy as I looked out over the balcony railing to the two big, gawdy Catholic churches that faced his place. I laughed at the lovely coincidence of it all and pushed his hand deeper into my cunt.

I remember him licking my armpits & sucking on my toes. My first fetish fun in forever.

I remember him asking (very nicely) for a spit-covered handjob and realizing he’s found the ONE thing I’m not at all skilled at sex wise.

And I remember us both deciding mutual masturbation was the best way to end this night. I laid back on his couch as I cranked his cock, fingering and eventually fisting my pussy as I watched. Having done live cams for years on end, I always wondered how I’d feel if someone was to give me a show in real life and as it turns out, it makes me cum just as hard if not harder than being on cam.

Mr. Martini and I collapsed in a pile of sweat and cum, opposite each other on his fancy couch. I played with his feet & traced his birthmark that looked a bit like Orion Belt sans the belt as the music played in the background & I finished the last drink he’d made.

We said our goodbyes & made our way back to the car, W & I all too excited to get home and jump all over each other again. I got him home and immediately let him dive into my ass, bouncing up and down on his cock, trying not to scream-moan the whole house awake.

The first one’s always the hardest, but Mr. Martini made it pretty damn easy and fun.


There was supposed to be an order to how we do these types of things. A long list of rules for how we approach it. We’d sat down the same day we’d decided to go on this adventure & made up a comprehensive way we thought we could make this work & maintain boundaries. A month in and I can successfully say, most of them have been left at the door as arbitrary, unhelpful or as a needless complication.

We have four rules that seem to have stuck around and evolved. And Mr. #1 helped created one of the big ones: no second chances. Flake on the first date and YOU’RE OUT, regardless of what your excuse is. The others I’ll go through another time, but right now lets talk about why I’m so goddamn merciless when it comes to canceling meet-ups last minute.

Mr. #1 got his name because he was our first choice to actually meet up for drinks/whatever comes later. But I honestly can’t even remember his face or dick (I’m pretty sure I saw both, it’s just etiquette) so maybe what happened next is for the best.

We’d scheduled Mr. #1’s meet up for the first Saturday after we’d dove into all this. That night I excitedly got all slutted up, threw my panties to the wayside & walked out of the house with W in tow to go meet what was supposed to be my first dick date.

I send him a text saying we’re on the way to the bar we agreed on right now, telling him how excited I was & get an almost immediate response back of…

“Oh wow, I totally forgot about our date (??). My mom has been in a serious car accident (?!) and I’m working out of town the next few days (!?!?!) so I can’t make it.”

Needless to say, I didn’t really buy it. Now, fuck me with a smiting if his poor mother did suffer some sort of accident, but the way it was typed (almost exactly how the above quote is) reeked of “the dog ate my homework” so I left him on read.

My disappoint & annoyance swelled until I remembered that Mr. Martini was close by where we were going to meet Mr. #1 and with a few quick text messages, date night was saved.

Me and My Husband // 1:15 – 1:32

Almost immediately after we’d both cum harder than either of us had in awhile (look at me, making assumptions about his orgasms like I have a dick or something), I dove into the depths of the internet researching/signing up for these sites he’d listed. AdultFriendFinder this… FetLife that… Fling. Tinder. Feeld. A whole list of sites who’s names I’d heard over the year, but never had any real reason to give a second thought to.

I dipped between creating these shiny new slut accounts & drunkenly reading and re-reading the article that had spurred him into talking to me about all of this.

It was a woman describing her own situation with this lifestyle in a way that I’d never heard before. Where you can do this type of thing and no one has to take any humiliation from it they don’t want to. W is not into insults for pleasure. Something, something Vixen/Stag/Buck vs. Cuckold/Wife/Bull. The terms being used to describe things took on a new importance that I hadn’t considered while searching up the porn I had been for the last couple (few?) years. You can put whatever fantasy you want on a cuckold clip, but when it comes to real life, words definitely matter.

After more talking (it seems huge amounts of honest communication seem to be key to doing this without hurt feelings) he proclaimed he had no desire for these dude’s to shit talk him, he just wanted to equivalent of live, personalized porn. And I wanted to be the world’s slut. It was and always has been a match made in an especially colorful level of Hell.

With his okay & confirmation that this was something he actually wanted to go forward with, I signed up and picked a name that I figured no one else would find me under. Since I already have a quite infamous and sexual presence on the internet (yes, I’ve conveniently skipped over that part, gimme a minute) I decided to go with something totally out of left field to (at least temporarily) hide the fact that my day job for the last 10+ years has been making independent fetish porn.

For the first time in my adult life I was just a silly slut on the internet looking for easily accessible dick that would obey boundaries & fuck me senseless. We weren’t even sure there would be any interest. I’m over 30 & I’m not exactly what the picture of the local beauty standards. Or beauty standards anywhere really. I’ve curated my look over the years to read “GET AWAY OR I MIGHT STAB YOU” not “Please socialize with me”.

The next morning we woke up to 20+ messages on the main site we’d chosen to fuck around on & dozens of messages everywhere else. Overwhelmed is an apt word to describe how it felt reading through those, but so are powerful, elated, surprised & horny.

Hell And You // 1:27 – 2:18

I’m never sure how to start this part. Every encounter we’ve had so far is amazingly easy to sum up. Like every other big revelation in our relationship over the last 15+ yrs, it happened during sex.

W had been making a weirdly large effort to get me more fucked up (drunk) than usual & I figured it was for our usual game of “of course you have permission to fuck said sleepy drunk girl”. I was wrong. It started out like that until in the middle of one of my moaning bouts I hear a very quiet, very intense voice come out of my favorite person & it whispers “I wanna share you”.

Que the simultaneous feeling of confusion and extreme elation. I would really say I stopped him, my pussy was waaaay too into what it had just heard to do that, but I did ask him in between gasps and groans if he was serious. Like really serious. He whispered back in my ear that he was and I had one of the best orgasms of my life.

Afterwards, hoping that his hard on wasn’t the one doing the talking I asked what the next step was. Where the fuck do we (safely and sanely) find people to “share” me with? How the fuck does this process work? How long had you been thinking about this? How long had I?

In the midst of doing crossfire style questions on each other, I had an epiphany of something that happened a couple months prior. I flashed back to a very “Spiderman points at Spiderman” moment where in the middle of me lamenting how we don’t have access to cloning technology so I could be properly fucked in a threesome, W randomly asked if I wanted to fuck other dudes. Through narrowed eyes I simply answered with a question of my own: did he want me to fuck other dudes? No, of course not.

Apparently, we’re both terrible liars.