Secrets // 0:40 – 0:58

You know the thing that sucks the most about living in modern times? It’s not the constant threat of climate change or the assholes who claim to run this shit show. It’s how aware we’re made of ourselves. This shit would be so much easier if I didn’t know I was bipolar and just thought I was possessed or had demons in my blood and I should do cocaine about it. It’d also be a hell of a lot more entertaining for you, dear pervert.

On one hand, it’s incredibly helpful to be aware of and be able to manage it. On the other… it’d be a lot easier to be able to just say “Ooops, sorry ’bout it. Head ghosts are acting like assholes again.” Instead, in order to maintain the guise of being a responsible adult, I have to make speeches like this every time the fat glob operating this flesh sack decides to have a bad day/week/month/year/existence and someone new has been brought into the fold. There’s a lot of new mother fuckers strolling around my little circle lately so…

I’m writing about this completely unslutty topic with the hope that anyone reading it can (kinda?) understand why I might disappear in spurts. Or be totally different one day to the next. I’m out here living in the same shitty existence as everyone else while trying to lasso my own brain into behaving with only good fucks, caffeine & pot. The ability to take myself out of the equation without taking myself out is necessary sometimes.

So hi, I’m fuckin’ (certified, all organic, free-range) crazy. To the surprise of absolutely no one with any life experience.

Lucky you for fucks, I’m just middle ground enough to write up some new entries AND start looking for someone fun to inspire even more. Also, the proof reader’s cock is a sonnet.

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.

ART IS DEAD // 1:12 – 1:17

I guess this is a Meet the Slut sort of post? If that (understandably) isn’t your thing, feel free to skip it, but I feel like maybe I haven’t accurately represented all of myself, which I’ll be honest bugs the fuck out of me. I’ve told you guys little to nothing about myself in order to maintain some small sliver of ever-fading anonymity. At this point all you know is I’m a fairly attractive (maybe) female with a pretty healthy appetite for fucking, who is married to a fairly slut-loving guy and maybe for some of you that’s enough. But I have a sneaking suspicion some of you out there on this beautiful invention we call the internet might like to see me as a fully fledged person instead of a easily choked out fuck toy.

This won’t be a life story type of spiel. More like a proper introduction and what to expect if you’ve been foolish enough to make it your quest to find and fuck me. A warning if you will, whether you take it as that is up to you.

I have recently learned to sum myself up as a sentient void that can only be filled with sex, affection and attention. Which is extremely accurate, but I also (obviously) love writing. Reading weird shit (bizarro fiction for the win). Head diving face first into anything that seems relatively occult. Horror. I fuckin’ love horror and sci-fi. One of my favorite things to do is to have access to a pool to jump in totally naked at night in the summer & just look up at the sky, trying to spot constellations & quietly hoping the aliens finally feeling generous enough to come take me & mine off this hellrock.

And I’ve made independent, amateur porn for 99% of my adult life. I think it’s partly what led W & I down this path and why we were able to skip a good portion of what couples embarking on this type of journey consider necessary testing of their relationship. Sometimes I feel like I brought all of this on by force of by having/demanding to keep the job I have. We were playing with toys in the bedroom by 4 years into the relationship, I had him ask to watch me play with someone else on cam (at “work”) by year 5. We’ve (for better or worse) successfully dealt with jealousy, mutual distrust, general bullshit most couples spend a lifetime focusing on and trying to get passed. And he’s spent the majority of this relationship being intimately aware of just how badly people want to fuck his wife and not just in my job.

I vaguely remember one time, extremely early on in our dating that was the exact moment I demonstrated to him exactly who I was. We stopped at a local gas station to grab smokes & snacks, he went in and left me in the car alone, keys in the ignition. Two idiots in the truck next to us, for whatever reason decided to try to talk me. When I ignored them they got out of their truck and with all the audacity only two drunk white dudes in the Midwest could have, got into W’s car. With one in the drivers seat, the other in the back I sat there annoyed and fairly shocked as an inexperienced-with-the-assholes-of-the-world kid. Bad pick-up line after bad pick-up line flew out of his ugly, idiot’s mouth while his friend laughed at his weak attempts to fuck me from W’s backseat. I anxiously eyed the door and the second I saw W step out, I gave them a heaping helping of bard-like Vicious Mockery, laughing in their faces at the pathetic attempts to woo me just as W came within listening distance. He stood absolutely dumbfounded as they spat back weak venom about what an ugly bitch I was, then noticing W slinked back to their truck to rev it in defiance of my rejection. I’d like to think that’s the first W realized, I don’t need him, but I definitely wanted him.

I’m regaling with you this story, dear reader, to do two things: show you I’m indeed a real human with thoughts, feelings (aside from horny) and a very big personality & to give you a little piece of insight: W isn’t the one you have to worry about in this hellish little match up you may stumble across if you’re lucky enough to be within fucking distance: it’s me. I’ll make you give up & cry long before he has to kick your ass.

Now back to your regularly scheduled slut stories…

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.