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Stories from 15 years of being naughty and lovin' it. Not for the faint of heart.

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Just Fucking Fuck Me, Already… I quite enjoyed this.
Rhythm pumping in a nightclub somewhere near Barcelona. Sweaty bodies with no names, no personal ties, no responsibilities but to have fun.
I ditch my constantly churning mind, absolve any worries, and give my body and soul to the music. My current flavor of the month, a sweet enough American guy who dotes on me but wouldn’t know existentialism if it bit him in the ass, waits for me back in Germany. (Later I will feel guilty for my exploits, because he’d had my car spruced up and detailed and presents it to me with pride when I arrive home).
For me, the night is young. I’m being whatever the moment demands of me. But not a good girl. Oh, anything but that.
My girlfriends have long headed back, but I’m like an animal let loose from her cage, heat-seeking, not ready to end the party. Just one more drink. Just one more song. I know I’m getting action. It’s just a question of who from.
A guy with a cheesy grin who I vaguely recognize as one of the other Soldiers on the trip with us seemingly appears from nowhere in the crowd. As my veins now run with nothing but Smirnoff vodka, I let him lead me without even the slightest of refusals. He wouldn’t be my first choice. But I’m blissfully tanked, and haven’t had any other takers. I don’t even pretend he has any real audacity to judge my willingness so quickly.
Face it. He knows a slut when he sees one, and I’m all too happy to oblige and prove him right.
He takes me to a pebbled beach just outside of the club. I stretch out like a cat. I wear denim capri pants that look painted on they are so tight, platform heels and a summery pastel camisole top. We kiss sloppily. In some nearly vacant corner of my mind I recall that he arrived with a wife in tow, pregnant too. But my reasoning is hard to latch onto at this point, and I easily cast it aside, only thinking of the present.
The rocks are irritating and the beach is a bit too public, even for me.
We move on, searching for a quick spot to fuck. This is the most banal of urges – the need to pump his unsatiated cock into a wet and willing host who also craves release. Pulses pounding. Nothing more.
Good, yeah, a dark back alley. This could work. Hurry though. The sounds of cops in the background fuel our urgency. We can hear them talking loudly somewhere nearby.
He pushes me against the rough brick wall. I stand there. His free whore for rent. I hurriedly help him unzip the back of my capris. I didn’t wear them for this purpose, but wow, I’m prepared like a naughty Girl Scout. The perfect quick access portal for us as we fumble about. With one swift movement, he unleashes my rear from its confines.
“Nice ass,” he says, summing up his view of me, as if he’s commenting on a football pass on television. He deftly cups my buttocks, runs his hands across the smoothness of them, squeezes, and then jerks my thin thong aside. No time for anything else. Mmmm, he plunges inside, hard, ramming until he comes. As he does so, he pulls up my shirt, gropes and pulls on my tits.
He tells me it was fun and even thanks me.
That night a black guy who’s a local there, who I don’t even know, is kind enough to flag me down a taxi. Were he to know I was so eager for a good touch-my-toes kind of workout, would he have propositioned me too? Took his turn with me in the back alley too? Who knows.
I arrive back at the hotel safely, and, still awake, search for another married man I know who had put the moves on me the day before. I awaken him, crawl into his bed and fuck him for the second time that weekend. I look over to see that his friend hasn’t missed a beat of what we were doing, in the dark from his vantage point. I’m sure we gave him a good visual he could capture for a rainy day.
The next day I see my first fuck from that night. He says hello. I feel disinterested. His wife stands next to him.
Yes, it’s good to have a pussy and the free will to use it.
I am a reformed slut, and I admit that without a shred of the guilt that I guess society would expect me to feel after 15 years of fucking all sorts of men, women and groups, in places exceedingly public and private.
15 years of party girl fun and a lot of uninhibited experiences later, I’m in love, and I’ve given my heart and my pussy to this one special man who means the world to me.
Mostly, I don’t regret a moment of it. If spreading my legs and arching my back to satisfy the needs of 10 guys at a time from whom I was getting a whole lot of my own mutual enjoyment is bad – well, then I’ve been a VERY BAD GIRL.
I’m not suddenly perfect or virginal, and I know that. I am who I am. And I won’t deny that I don’t still hunger deep inside for those mind-blowing sensations and the rush I used to get from that all powerful drug called sex, especially the rough kind or the one-night-stand-with-handsome-strangers kind. I still have my own private visuals that I keep to myself, as I frenetically massage my clit to that climactic end. I’m just trying to detox these days though, one step at a time.
However, don’t mind me. Stay a while and enjoy my reminiscences of good lays past.

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Mar 14th, 2018

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While leaving the bar a woman bumps into a tall man she mumbles a sorry as she continues on compleatly destracted by the days events. Her long time boyfriend told her he wanted some more kink in the sexual part of the relationship hence why she was out at that bar, he had texted her 2 meet him there but never showed. So cought up she didnt hear the foot steps behind her, it was only as she passed old turnoff for a closed gas station that she kniticed she was being followed. Hands reach out and grab her pulling her 2 the side of the building.
Before she could see anything a rag was tied around her head. She fought as hard as she could almost breaking away a few time. For all her struggles he mannaged 2 pin her 2 the wall and somehow mannaged 2 get her panties down and her shirt up around her hips. It was then that she knoticed he had pulled his pants down and was alining himself up with her cunt. He thrusts into her hard rocking her into the wall with each thrust.
Time seemed 2 stop fot her as she felt him geting rougher knowing he was about 2 cum inside her.
“Please dont cum in me.” she pleaded “I’m not on birth controle.”
His only response was a deep groan and slaming into her harder. Finaly thrusting in till his entire langth was inside her then spilling his cum into her cunt.
Finaly he pulled out and turned her lifting the blindfold. She looked up smiling into her boyfriends eyes as he whispers. “Bet ur going 2 be a mother never came so hard in my life.”

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использует защитную технологию, которая является устаревшей и уязвимой для атаки. Злоумышленник может легко выявить информацию, которая, как вы думали, находится в безопасности.

I worked as an office manager once, and it was my job to open and sort all of the mail, including packages. It was a pretty boring job for the most part, but every now and then there would be a wave of excitement when my boss’s crazy ex-wife would come in and scream at him in front of all of his employees.
So I’m doing my mail duties when an odd looking package arrives for my boss, the CEO of the company. I open it as part of the standard office procedure. I pull out some packing materials, then an item wrapped in plastic wrap.
What is this? I think to myself. Oh, a leash. Must be a leash for his dog. What’s with the metal things? This is kind of weird, I think, so let’s pull out the invoice:
“Dog collar with attached nipple clamps.”
Dogs don’t need nipple clamps, so what the shit.
I throw everything back into the box as if *I’M* the one who has just committed some horrible sin against nature. I hop onto my computer and pull up messenger and message my boyfriend. “QUICK. I NEED TO KNOW HOW TO TAPE UP A PACKAGE AND MAKE IT LOOK LIKE IT WAS NEVER OPENED.”
Tons of totally rational and then totally fucked up explanations are going through my head. Halloween is coming up soon, maybe this is for a crazy party. Or maybe my boss is just seriously kinky and doesn’t have the foresight to send these types of packages TO HIS HOUSE. I got mental images, playbacks – not pretty.
I carefully tape up the box and pack it neatly. Voila! It looks as though it was never opened! No one will touch this stuff! I sneak it into his office and put it on his desk with the rest of his mail.
So for weeks, I can’t make eye contact with my boss, and at one point, I almost greeted him with a “Good Morning, Mr. Nipple Clamps” because that’s all that would go through my head when he walked in the door.
We go out on a business trip and at dinner, he tells us about how an old secretary is sending packages to his work and picking them up from his office, and he’s DYING to know what’s in them, but he never opens them.
Having had like 4 glasses of wine, I raise my hand.
“I know what’s in them,” I say, my face turning more purple than the merlot I’m drinking.
I have everyone’s attention now, and at this amazing restaurant in downtown Chicago, I blurt out, way too loudly, “NIPPLE CLAMPS!”
I tell them the story of the accidentally opened package. (We found out what the deal was weeks later because it turns out this lady who used to work for him was running a sex service behind her family’s back and making good money at it, but she couldn’t let her family know she was a dominatrix for hire so she had the boxes sent to her old work. How bad would that screw your teen daughter up, anyway?)
After I tell the table, including investors and business associates (glug glug glug) about how horrified I was and how deftly I re-taped the package to look as though it had never been tampered with, and how proud I was of my handiwork, the table falls silent.
So this one guy looks at my boss and says, “Your secretary has been walking around for weeks thinking you’re a sick pervy bastard! She must have been terrified to fly out here to Chicago with you!”
Hey man, sometimes I was paid in wine. Nipple clamps or no nipple clamps, that’s a good deal.
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