Tag Archives: slut

Take You Home And Make You Like It

So, in the story of Amy and Shannon, the “Sisterhood” sort of has a problem. If you happen to sympathize with Shannon, you’ll blame the narrator character for being into “skanks” or “sluts.” But if you sympathize with Amy, you’ll blame the narrator for being exploitative, a rapist, or even a pedophile.

The Church Ladies might say, “you all should have waited until you were married,” but the Church Ladies are actively against young marriage anyway. So all they are really saying is “no sex!” Wait until you’re “ready” – which is a decade after you hit puberty. “And no foolin’ around, no porn, no nothing!”

What the Sisterhood and the Church Ladies agree on is that girls should not marry early and not have children early, but to keep their options open. In theory, they might tell the girls to avoid sex, but they know full well they can’t enforce that, that it is unnatural, so they will forgive the girls if they do, and just assume the naughty boys pressured them into it anyway.

Please notice that it’s women, not men, who slut shame. And women slut shame their sexual rivals. While Shannon was far too sweet of a girl to be overtly hostile to Amy, she most certainly slut shamed her in subtle ways.

teen-pregnancy-posterstop-teen-pregnancy-publish-with-glogster-kb0pifs3

And I’ll never forget the wistful, vaguely sad and disappointed way Shannon mentioned that all three of us – her best guy friends – we all went for a round with “Amy’s type.” I do think on some level, she realized that we were “saving her for marriage” – like I said, later her and I dated for a while and had sex, and she very well may have with one of the other guys, but while we were white hot sexually for Amy, we treated Shannon with kid gloves. We were saving her for marriage.

For Shannon, in some ways it was a compliment, but in other ways it was an insult. I mean, what did Amy have that Shannon didn’t have? Shannon was a bit better looking, certainly smarter, way more “classy.” But again, no one was talking about marriage here – we were “too young.” Neither girl wanted to be a teenage mother – that’s “too young.” So what else was there?

Well, there was “romance” – meaning, doing sweet things for Shannon, paying for dates, maybe writing her love letters.

Or, there was hot sex, blowjobs, kinky things, dirty things – on demand orgasms – from Amy. And since Shannon wanted in on the game too, eventually from her as well – a little less enthusiastically, a little more reserved, a little less dirty – but it all ended with us ejaculating somewhere in, or on, her body – just like it did with Amy.

I mean, what do you think was going to happen?

Marriage and family formation was not an option for at least another five years – and quite possibly ten years.

But it’s important to not miss the subtlety here.

I said Amy was the Bad Girl – the Whore. And she was – for me. Not necessarily for you. You may have had to buy her dinner and give her romance. But I didn’t. I was the guy she wanted to make come, I was the guy she wanted to see writhing in pleasure and I ejaculated down her throat, on her face, on her tits.

And I said Shannon was the Good Girl – the Madonna. And she was – for me. But I remember this one time, some guy friend of hers comes over, not part of our group. And this guy? 5 inches taller than me. Way better looking, way more “alpha.” Obviously from a rich family, drove an expensive car.

And the way Shannon looked at him? Shannon looked at this guy the way Amy looked at me. While Shannon may have been my Madonna, it’s quite likely that she was his Whore. Just like “alpha” and “beta” are situational, so are “Madonna” and “Whore.” I have a feeling that Shannon didn’t mind if this guy treated her like we treated Amy. I have a feeling that Shannon would do things just as dirty – and just as quickly – for this guy as Amy did for us.

So, again, the Sisterhood and the Church Ladies have a problem here. Because it’s been 50 years since birth control, and it’s been 50 years since the Sexual Revolution, and the secret’s out.

“Gotta be looking pure, kiss him goodbye at the door, and leaving him wanting more.”

That probably worked 50 years ago.

And you’ll also notice, no one – certainly not me – is saying anything hateful about either Amy or Shannon. These were both girls that I have fond memories of, along with a little tinge of heartbreak. They were just girls, they liked sex as much as anyone, and we all did just what came naturally.

But the third wave feminists are right, and in a sense, the Liberated Sluts were right. Because Amy and Shannon were using us sexually no less than we were using them. Amy and Shannon got off on the sex just as much as we did.

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And while a lot of people paid lip service to the idea of chastity, in reality the “conservative” and Christian types were just being cruel – forbidding the girls to marry and have children when that is precisely what their bodies were ready for. And the liberal types – they said, have at it, have as much sex as you want – as long as you don’t actually marry and have children. And the liberals were waiting right there to “take care” of any pregnancy if it did happen.

You have to wonder if the adults – both sides – were sadists.

It was probably easy to figure out when she was 15 that Amy wasn’t going to go to college and become a lawyer. Boys who likely weren’t going to college were steered into vocational school to learn a trade at 16. With the right social support, Amy could have become a mother at 16, and raised a few white children. But everyone – right wing, left wing, conservative, Christian, liberal, secular – were all agreed.

According to all the adults, the WORST thing that could happen to Amy would be her becoming a teenage mother. That would “ruin her life” and “ruin her future” and she would be branded a failure and a loser.

So, she became a stripper instead.

These things are easier to predict than people are letting on. Looking back on it all, I don’t think either the Church or Planned Parenthood really gave a shit about girls like Amy. And while the church ladies and the feminists read something like this and demonize me, I can almost guarantee that I’m the only one actually taking Amy’s side in this situation.

Because the women, right wing and left wing, slut shamed Amy not because she was all that different than any other girl, they slut shamed her because they were her sexual rivals.

Let that sink in for a moment.

In the guise of preventing her from becoming a “teenage mother” what they were really doing is cock-blocking guys her age – or older than her – from having her. The Christians and the church ladies did so because they didn’t want a man to sexually enjoy a girl like Amy – out of sheer jealousy – and the left wingers didn’t mind Amy being a whore, as long as she didn’t actually reproduce and have children.

Don’t believe me? Just read this article. Let what this woman is saying sink in.

http://www.xojane.com/sex/30-is-the-new-50-old-age-is-killing-my-dating-life

For a man, age brings success, wisdom, and the Hollywood-approved wrinkles of Robert Redford. And, while I too find that my career is on the up, it doesn’t matter, because time, for a woman, is hardly as kind as it is to a man. My career successes, my triumphs as a human being, are trumped by the fact my looks — and my ovaries — have a shelf life. Biology and Sociology 101.

You get that? It goes back to point number one, in the first article.

It’s this logic that has most of my 30-something guy friends dating girls fresh out of college. Girls who, in my experience, are less impressive, less striving, less volatile, less successful, less intimidating, less questioning, less pressing, less complex, less damaged, less opinionated, less powerful, less womanly. They are less, and, to a guy not ready for anything — like most of the guys I have dated in New York — less is more.

You see, men are valuing the wrong thing. While men really value youth and beauty – a proxy for fertility – the old, aging women are upset. They sure as hell weren’t going to settle down with some BOY who hadn’t established himself in his career. So they postponed marriage and family as long as possible. But then, when the men DO finally “make it” – well, the men with options go for a young, fertile girl.

But – what about all those old women? How come men aren’t MORE attracted to them the more “mileage” they have on them?

Next installment, I have a real life story of the Church Ladies – old wenches who pretend they are for marriage and family – doing their best to STOP a marriage and a family from forming, all due to sheer sexual jealousy.

Some-Teenage-Girls-Logic

And contra everything both the right and the left were telling us – one thing we all quickly noticed, both the boys and the girls. The more *unequal* the situation, the *hotter* the sex. The higher the status of the man compared to the woman, the stronger the orgasms for both. Some study once showed that you can predict how strong a woman’s orgasm will be by the price of the bed sheets. More expensive = stronger orgasm.

In fact, “equality” in the bedroom is about the least sexy thing ever, for the girl and the boy.

This fact leads to all sorts of interesting places.

But it’s one of those hilarious things, most women feel a strong need to pretend that isn’t the case. Women will usually keep that pretense up until the second their panties hits the floor.

“Power is the ultimate aphrodisiac.” — Henry Kissinger

teen mom

Flowers – Liz Phair

Every time I see your face
I get all wet between my legs
Every time you pass me by
I heave a sigh of pain

Every time I see your face
I think of things unpure unchaste
I want to fuck you like a dog
I’ll take you home and make you like it

Everything you ever wanted
Everything you ever thought of is
Everything I’ll do to you
I’ll fuck you and your girlfriend too

Your face reminds me of a flower
Kind of like you’re underwater
Hair’s too long and in your eyes
Your lips a perfect suck me size

You act like you’re fourteen years old
Everything you say is so
Obnoxious, funny, true and mean
I want to be your blowjob queen

You’re probably shy and introspective
That’s not part of my objective
I just want your fresh young jimmy
Cramming slamming ramming in me

Every time I see your face
I think of things unpure unchaste
I want to fuck you like a dog
I’ll take you home and make you like it

Everything you ever wanted
Everything you ever thought of is
Everything I’ll do to you
I’ll fuck you ’til your dick is blue

Marry Fuck Kill

Henry Kissinger was asked what his job really was, what did it mean to be a “consultant” to the ruling class. Kissinger said his job was simple, he took the needs and interests of his clients, and articulated those needs and interests into an agenda that could be enacted.

Read it twice, it is a bit more subtle than it might appear on the surface.

I’ve always thought of myself as a natural negotiator. I was always the guy stopping fights and arguments, always the referee making sure people played fair. I like to think I have a fairly high level of emotional intelligence and I have an overabundance of empathy. Some of the women commenters are probably rolling their eyes, but if I sound like some mean misogynist online, trust me, in real life I’m considered quite charming.

So once, Ryu claimed that I was “the best White Nationalist Pick-Up Artist in history.” It’s always hard to tell exactly how to take Ryu, but I’m just going to take it mostly at face value, and as an obvious backhanded compliment.

Now, being that I am a guy, I implicitly understand “the men’s side” when it comes to the battle of the sexes, but the fact I have an overabundance of empathy and have been so “successful” with women shows I must have a sort of intuitive understanding of the other side as well. So, in a sense, it makes me a kind of objective observer, or at the least, a judge or a referee that may not be completely impartial, but at least can look at both sides. And like Kissinger, I am going to attempt to take the needs and interests of both sides and articulate that into an actionable agenda for my clients – white men and women of childbearing years.

If you are a woman that is not having kids, or any more kids, and are not interested in what your kids are doing reproductive wise, this isn’t directed towards you. Don’t read any further. If you are a man that has no interest in ever having kids, a “Man Going Their Own Way” or a player that got a vasectomy or something, or if you’re already a father and aren’t interested in more kids – go away. This isn’t for you.

On the other hand, if you’re a young white man or a young white woman, I can honest to God help with this problem, because it is sort of my specialty, in a sense.

So, in the last installment, I told the story of two girls, one that I just wanted to bang, and one that I just wanted to marry. So what is the difference? The other part of the previous installment discussed the technological advance of birth control, and how that sparked the Sexual Revolution, collapsed white fertility, and changed the previous cultural institutions that regulated the relations between men and women.

So, first, let’s look at sex. Why the hell would Amy, the 15 year old girl, want to have sex with a 16 year old hipster? Why would Amy be so easy, at such a young age, for a guy that was clearly only using her for sex?

The obvious answer is that Amy thought I was a “bad boy.” You see, I was the kind of guy you bang, but not the guy you marry. The manosphere types call this being the “alpha fucks” not the “beta bucks” and it’s clear by that terminology alone that they are more interested in being the “alpha fucks” rather than the “beta bucks.”

However – what made me the “bad boy” was not that she just wanted to fuck me, but would marry a “better” guy, it’s that she knew full well that I would never take her seriously, that I was, in a real sense, “out of her league.” When I did start to “take her seriously” and when I did start to develop some romantic feelings about her – she dried up, quick like, and moved on. When I was just using her for sex, I was a hot sexy bad boy. When I started to take her somewhat seriously, I lost a lot of the sexual appeal, because there was a possibility that I would settle for a girl like her. For no other reason that I was getting laid on a regular basis, I started to have feelings for Amy.

Amy knew perfectly well that I was “out of her league” when it came to something that, at the time, I didn’t have a clue about. And it’s also why I had that urge to “save Shannon for marriage.”

It was a combination of sexual maturity and social class.

http://www.xojane.com/sex/30-is-the-new-50-old-age-is-killing-my-dating-life

You see, Amy was kind of trashy. Her parents were divorced, her father was an alcoholic, her older brother had been arrested several times, and her mother didn’t have any college education. I came from a solidly middle class family, intact, church goers, both parents college educated.

And Shannon was even one class above me; her parents were also married, college educated, church goers, but lived in a nicer neighborhood and her dad made more money than my dad. Her mother was more “sophisticated” socially than my mother.

And, while Amy was likely at her very sexiest, and her best looking, at 15-19, Shannon – although by anyone’s standard a very attractive 16 year old girl – really hit her strike in her mid 20s. When I saw her the very last time, when she was about 24 – wearing this little black dress – yeah, my eyes popped out of my head. I immediately thought to myself – how the hell did I let that one get away?

The last time I saw Amy, when she was about 25, she had horrific tattoos, a nose ring, a fucked up haircut, and worked as a stripper.

So at the time, even though I really didn’t have any conscious understanding of this, I was at least subconsciously aware of the “status” game and did what all men have done, throughout history. I used the girls beneath me in class as concubines, and the girls equal or above me in class as potential wives, or “official girlfriends” the kind you might introduce to your family.

But, you see, there’s another sort of paradox here.

The hottest sex is often the kind where there is more social distance between the two people. That’s why women will turn into instant sluts for a Hollywood celebrity. Sort of like how electricity works, the more potential difference there is, the greater the current. And sex with Amy was super hot because she was fucking me because of my status, as a slightly better looking, smarter, more popular, more educated guy than she could “keep” as a boyfriend. She knew that if she was just a super-slut, she could land me temporarily at least, and have bragging rights. It’s really no overstatement to say that Amy “serviced” me sexually.

And the second I turned even slightly “beta” – the second I showed the slightest bit of feelings for a lower class slut like her, the second the heat went away. A year or so after we stopped fucking, she went and fucked – only one time – a friend of ours that looked kind of like me, but he was slightly better looking, slightly taller, slightly more popular, slightly more masculine.

Amy admitted to me, she always wanted to fuck that guy, and she got to fuck him just one weekend, and all she did was pleasure him, but she got what she wanted and was quite happy that she did.

I, of course, took rigorous precautions with Amy, and I always used a condom when I ejaculated in her vagina. But it was usually more fun – for both of us – for me to ejaculate in her mouth. Because that’s where the power exchange came into play. That’s the kind of birth control you used before the era of BC pills and condoms, right?

Before BC pills, before condoms, and before Roe vs. Wade, neither Amy nor I would have risked some affair, because she might have wound up a single mother and I might have wound up with a bastard kid. But now that sex was decoupled from reproduction – and now that the Sexual Revolution had loosened the standards of acceptable sexual conduct, we were able to slut in up all through high school, with nary a worry about an unplanned pregnancy. In the case it ever happened, we had a highly visible group of upper class, educated women that ran Planned Parenthood and existed precisely to make sure that girls like Amy didn’t actually reproduce.

Now, while Shannon did have sex, she just wasn’t as slutty as Amy. She was a lot more selective and didn’t want to just “service” some guy. She wanted to be an official girlfriend to someone. She wanted some romance. She wanted some status. And – in the era before birth control – I would have lined up to marry Shannon because I could only get sex from one girl – my wife – and it would result in children.

But, of course, Shannon – being a smart, ambitious woman who did not want to be a teenager mother, didn’t really want to settle down or have children until at least the age of 22, maybe even 25.

Well, in the meantime – in the first DECADE of Shannon’s sexual maturity, at the height of Shannon’s beauty and fertility – from 15-25 – Shannon was hoping to get romance and sex from a few different boys until she picked the best one and got married.

But, you know, what really happened was while sex with Shannon was reward enough for the guys she wanted, the guys she wanted – being naturally polygamous – already had access to a whole, lower strata of girls quite willing to be sex toys. It didn’t matter for the boys, because neither Amy nor Shannon were interested in settling down and having children. Girls just wanna have fun, and now thanks to birth control, the boys and girls could.

So, when choosing between different girls – since family formation was off the table – it became, you know, which girl sucked dick better.

I actually don’t think that’s what Planned Parenthood and the Birth Control movement had in mind.

But consider this saying from the Necronomicon:

“Each Thing Evokes Its Opposite.”

Fuck, Marry, Kill is a party game in which the participant is presented with the names of three individuals, each of whom he or she must choose to kill, ask to marry or have sex with.

Move Over, Duke Porn Star – Columbia Has a Gigolo

http://nypost.com/2014/04/29/columbia-student-reveals-secret-life-as-a-male-gigolo/

Duke may have a porn star – but Columbia has its very own male escort.

A strapping Columbia University student stepped forward to reveal a secret life as a male gigolo – who offers wealthy New York women the “boyfriend experience.”

In a steamy tell-all, penned in the Columbia Lion, the Ivy Leaguer dished about “dates” that often include dinners and sex in hotel rooms for $300 an hour.

His clients range from a kinky lady who paid him to pop balloons in the bedroom – to a mom who simply wanted his company at a Justin Bieber concert, which she attended with her daughters.

“I’m a Prince Charming … I remind middle-aged women of that popular guy they liked in high school,” the student dished in the campus paper, anonymously.

“The trick is to talk them into leaving the lights on [during sex] and then spend the whole time telling them how great they look, even if it isn’t true. That’s how you get big tips and regulars,” he wrote.

One woman paid him $15,000 to sunbathe with her in Tuscany; others wanted to play with sex toys or go on double dates.

Most of his clients are neglected wives, divorced moms and shy gals, he wrote.

High School Harlots 5

I told you I was a huge slut. I never thought about it. You just met some girl, flirt, kiss her, and start fucking. We all did it.

I don’t remember where or how I met Rena. That’s sort of disconcerting to me, as I’m sitting here racking my brain trying to remember where and how I met her. It must have been a mutual friend or something. Considering the way it typically worked, I guess we just met and started fucking. She had a fucking amazing body. She was a lifeguard. Blonde hair, blue eyes, 19, almost two years older than me. A total bitch. Really, a nasty piece of work. I just liked fucking her. She had a waterbed, her mom bought her condoms because she wasn’t on the pill. I guess her mom had the idea that it would be better for her to be fucking at home rather than somewhere else. She would pick me up, drive me to her house, we’d spent the weekend fucking all day. I used to love eating her pussy. She had a great rack too. Her pubic hair was blonde too which I had never seen before.

The main thing I remember about her is how we broke up. So there were these three NSA agents that used to swim at her pool and we all became sort of friendly. There was a husband and wife, and their friend, the Air Force officer that stole Rena from me. Talk about getting AMOG-ed – how is some 17 year old boy supposed to compete with a 24 year old Air Force officer? He had an ugly face, but of course was fucking built. It took me all of ten minutes watching their interaction to realize Rena was going to be fucking this guy sooner or later.

So we’re at her house, fucking, when the doorbell rings. Literally, my cock is in her mouth. She pulls it out and says, “oh shit, I forget Lt. Biggus Dickus is taking me to a movie.”

I couldn’t fucking believe it. I said, “what you’re going out on a date with this guy? What the fuck?” She said, “oh no, it’s not a date, we’re just going to the movies!” I’m thinking, whatever. That was pretty slutty, even for her, to fuck me an hour before she goes out on a date with this guy. We were supposedly boyfriend and girlfriend, but neither of us really liked each other all that much. Just the fucking. So she yells down to the guy to wait and starts getting dressed, tells me to hang out at her place if I want. I figure it’s over anyway, so just leave.

So one totally random thread with her – she reintroduced me to a guy who would become one of my favorite musicians – David Allen Coe. He was essentially the king of rednecks. I first hear about him from my cousin down south, who listened to his “dirty songs” – these funny obscene ditties about fucking and drinking. Then, Rena played me one of his albums, and I remember the song, a biker tune, that started out “I got my red wings today.” Uh, look it up if you want more details, it’s pretty fucking gross.

Years later, when I’m in New York City, drinking at the dive bar with Aisha, she says, “oh my god you have to listen to this new album we got in the jukebox. It’s so funny!” She then proceeds to play a song:

“I was drunk the day my mom got out of prison. I went to pick her up in the rain. But before I could get to the station in my pick up truck, she got runned over by a damned old train.”

High School Harlots 4

So Betty and I had long since broken up but we still hung out every once in a while. At some point she told me, “do you know that waitress at the diner? With the brown hair? She asked me about you. She thinks you’re cute.”

I had no idea who she was talking about but we go to the diner and hang out and have coffee. So Betty introduces me to Marge. Marge was really, really hot. She had really light brown hair and amazing, beautiful, captivating blue eyes. Thin, with sort of smallish boobs and a fucking hot ass. She loved wearing skirts with no panties.

I basically thought she was totally out of my league, but since she had asked about me, I figured I’d give it a shot. Honestly I was a little bit shy, but managed to talk to her, and got her number. I took her out on a date.

We went to sushi – I had never had it before. I was trying to use the chopsticks, and the waiter came by and put a rubber band around them, turning them into some sort of lever thing, and said “try that.” Fuck it was humiliating, being AMOG-ed by a waiter on my first date with Marge. She didn’t talk too much, but she smiled a lot. I really didn’t know if this date was going well or not. At the end of the night, we kiss. It was pretty long and passionate. Well, the next day she calls me up and invites me over to her house. So I drive over there. She lived in a really, really expensive neighborhood, in a fucking mansion, maybe the biggest house I had ever seen. Right on the water, and they had their own private dock. I walk in the door, she smiles, I kiss her. We walk over to the couch, sit down, and start fucking.

We would date for I think three years. Right after high school, we got a place together downtown. $450 a month, this tiny little studio apartment. We had no furniture. The second we got the keys, we go into the bedroom, lay down on the floor, and fuck for like three hours straight. She got on top of my and rode me for hours and hours. She had rug burns all over her feet from rubbing them against the carpet while she was riding me. Good lord, this girl liked to fuck. We had sex three or four times a day, pretty much every single day for years. She just never, ever, ever got enough. I was totally, head over heels in love with her.

She used to do that thing, when we were fucking missionary, she would rock her hips back and forth. Good lord, I could barely stop myself from coming too soon when she did that. She became friends with the girl that ran the apartment complex, this raver chick. So one day, we’re hanging out, doing ecstasy, and Marge and this girl start making out. So, my first threesome. It was fucking hot, watching this girl go down on Marge. Marge was just a sex fiend, she never, ever, ever got enough.

She was the kindest sweetest girl. Always happy. Bubbly. She used to do this totally endearing, charming little thing. Whenever she got excited about something, she would do this hilarious impression of Mr. Burns from the Simpsons, rubbing her fingers together and say “excellent!”

God I miss her. We should have gotten married, but shit happened. By the end of it we were fighting all the time. When Betty and I broke up, my heart broke. When Marge and I broke up, I was devastated. It’s funny, just a few months ago my niece and I were watching old home movies, and Marge was on one of the tapes. We were about 19 I think, in front of my parents house, playing with my niece who was a baby at the time, totally adorable. Marge was so beautiful, and so kind, and so loving – and fucked like a champ. But, she was crazy, honestly, crazy as a loon. I think I still love her a bit.

I hadn’t talked to her in years and years, but she was one of the first people to call me, in a panic, when The Event happened.

High School Harlots 3

The first rule of Slut Club is: you don’t talk about Slut Club.

They say confession is good for the soul. All the names have been changed to protect the slutty. So these made up names are different than the ones I used in the New Years Resolution post, and I can’t be bothered to look them up, so it’s a new set of fake names.

So anyway, I was working as a cashier at this mall. There was this 16 year old girl, Betty, that bought something from me and liked me. Later she told me she went to this store all the time to buy stuff from me. I never noticed her. But at some point, a friend of mine, who was friends with this girl who was friends with Betty, told me about this party. She said, “do you know Betty? You know, this girl. With long brown hair and brown eyes? You met her at the mall.”

Honestly, I didn’t remember. But she strongly, strongly implied that Betty liked me, had a crush on me, and was interesting in doing something with me. She didn’t come right out and say, “Betty wants to fuck you” but I got the message.

So a friend and I went to this party. My friend’s friend introduced me to Betty. She was 16, cute, and I sort of remember seeing her around the mall. We chatted about whatever. She told me she liked me.

I don’t remember much of the build up here, but what I came to find out is that Betty was a virgin, and wanted me to deflower her. This entire thing had been an elaborate set up, between her and her friends, to invite me to this party and have me “break her in.”

So we wind up talking a lot, go off someplace quiet and kiss a few times, make out a bit. Then everyone starts passing out and going to sleep, and she and I lay down on a couch, in a room with about 10 other people asleep on other couches, the floor, and curled up in chairs. We make out, things get a little hot and heavy, and we start taking our clothes off under this blanket we have. I had condoms with me – don’t remember if I brought them or someone gave them to me – and I get some last minute assurances that this is really what she wants.

So, we’re naked, I’m hard, I’m on top of her, and I start to stick it in. I remember she winced, grimacing in pain. I stop. I ask her, “does it hurt?” She has her eyes tightly closed, and nods her head up and down, “yes.” I ask her, “do you want me to stop?” She shakes her head back and forth, “no.” So gently, slowly, I keep pushing it in. I go really slow for a bit, then start going in and out, a bit harder and faster. Soon, her face relaxes, she starts moaning. I’m kissing her, biting her neck, biting her earlobes, and this goes on for, I don’t know, ten minutes? Hey – I was 16! She was something like my third! Give me a break. At some point I come. I keep making out with her, pull it out, and put the condom in the ashtray on the table next to us. We fall asleep together.

Well, the next morning, her friend decides to razz us about this. I guess she wasn’t sure if we were going to go all the way or not. She says, loudly so the other couples can hear, “oh my god they did it! Look, there’s the rubber in the ashtray! Naughty naughty!” Betty is a bit embarrassed, but not really that much. But the trouble came when word got back to her older brother who was at the party as well. Some guy tells me, “hey, her brother is fucking pissed. He’s in the other room, pacing around, saying, ‘that hippie dude fucked my little sister! I’m going to fucking kick his ass!’

Considering her brother was definitely tougher than me, and a guy who had already had his car torched over cocaine debts to gangs, and was rumored to carry, I was fucking scared and expecting a fight, one that I could very well possibly lose. But someone convinced him to leave, so Betty and I and her friends hung out for a while, I got Betty’s phone number, we all went to the local diner for breakfast, and I told Betty I’d call her and we would hang out again. We would “date” for about a year, on and off, after that. My parents didn’t allow me to fuck at their house, and her parents wouldn’t let her fuck at her house – she actually was not supposed to be having sex at all, and was not on the pill (yet) – so she would drive her stepdad’s truck to my house, we’d drive over to the local park – which doubled as a “lover’s lane” for the neighborhood, and fuck in the back.

Once, for whatever reason, the cops decided to knock on the window right while we were fucking. She quickly puts her shirt and pants on, while I’m covering myself with my jeans, and she rolls down the window. The cops says, “ma’am, is everything all right in here?” She says, “yes, it’s my boyfriend.” The cop asks, “is there anything happening here you don’t want to be happening?” She says, “no, it’s ok, it’s my boyfriend. We’re just, uh, hanging out.”

The cops says, “ok ma’am. Stay safe,” and gets back in his car and drives away.

See, consent is sexy! Where’s my fucking ally cookie, feminists?

High School Harlots 2

One summer in high school, my parents took a two month trip and left me at home, totally unsupervised. It was a very, very interesting summer, and by the end of it, by some miracle, the only damage was a broken ashtray that my parents – who didn’t smoke – had from 20 years prior for guests, and a stain on the carpet. As I said, a miracle.

Amy was number five or six, depending on how you count. She was dating my friend Tom. Well, “friend” may be stretching it. “Weed dealer” is probably more accurate. I was over his house doing some business and she was there on the couch. She was this tiny little thing. Blonde hair, blue eyes, pale skin. Um, 15 years old. Depending on how you count, I think I was her third or fourth. I don’t remember too much about our first meeting, but somehow she got my phone number, and called me up. She said, “hey, it’s Amy, Tom’s friend. We met yesterday. I have some pot, you want me to come over?” I told her I didn’t have any money. She said, “don’t worry, we’ll just smoke out.”

So, she comes over, brings an eighth of pot. We sit down on my bed, smoke a joint, then start fucking.

She loved adventure, so I would come up with crazy sexual things to do and she would enthusiastically participate. Sex on the roof of my parents house in broad daylight. We tried every position. On a few memorable occasions, she gave me head while I was driving.

Never do that, by the way. We’re lucky to be alive.

I think she was the first girl I fucked doggy style. There is something interesting that happens to me when I’m fucking a petite girl. The fact they are so tiny makes me objectify them more, and I sort of naturally handle them a little rougher that I might otherwise. I guess it’s just the large different in power, physical strength and size. I’ve noticed it, and it just happens automatically, without me thinking. I tend to throw them around like a rag doll, flip them this way or that, and just manhandle them.

Since I barely knew Amy, in fact, had known her for a grand cumulative total of about 30 minutes before we were fucking, I totally, utterly, sexually objectified her. I didn’t know anything about her, her personality, her hopes, dreams, or interests, and she didn’t know mine either. We mostly kept it that way. The fact she was so easy, had thrown herself at me, and was basically a stranger, made me treat her pretty much just as a piece of meat.

Which, of course, turned her on a lot and made her come many, many times.

So at some point we had spent the weekend fucking at my parent’s house, and we’re getting ready to do it again, and for whatever reason, I told her I wanted to fuck her over the desk. I remember the look in her eyes when I said that. I might describe it as “smouldering.” I remember looking at her and literally objectifying her, as I sort of plotted what I wanted to do to her. She loved it when I came up with new and interesting things to do. Now, you might think fucking a girl over your desk is not particularly new or interesting, but you have to remember that it was for us, as we were basically kids. Teenagers.

So, over the desk she went, with her tiny little white ass. I don’t even remember where I got the idea, but I would slap her ass in that position, and pull her hair. If you had told me then that nearly 20 years later I would remember that day with such clarity I could write about it, I’d have thought you were mad. People are strange.

On school nights when she wasn’t allowed to stay out, so she would wait until about midnight, call me to tell me her dad was asleep, then I would drive over to her house, she would let me in through the basement door, and we’d fuck on the couch. Then, at about 2 am, I would drive home.

Anyway, I don’t remember when or how we “broke up,” I think she just went chasing after some other guy. But afterwards, we stayed “friends,” and I do remember wanting this other girl, Shannon, a friend of hers, which made Amy jealous. We were on the way to a party, sitting in the back of the car. I wanted nothing to do with Amy, as I was interested in this other girl. So she made it her mission to seduce me. The entire car ride, she kept grabbing my leg, tickling me, and whispering obscene things in my ear. I made an honest, good hearted effort to ignore her, but at some point, whatever she did just got me fucking hard.

Later, at the party, Amy, Shannon, her friend, and I were falling asleep, passing out on a sort of makeshift bed on the floor, two mattresses pushed together and lots of blankets and pillows. I’m still ignoring her, but at some point she says, “come on, just let me suck your dick, that’s all. Come on.”

Well, the other two girls were asleep, and she had been doing this sort of thing to me for hours now, so I just gave in. She sucked me off, then I just pulled her legs around my shoulders and fucked the hell out of her. We tried being as quiet as possible, but at some point, Shannon wakes up and sees us, then just sort of drifts back to sleep. I was so pissed. Because of that, I wouldn’t actually get into Shannon’s pants for another year.

High School Harlots 1

The first one was Chrissy. I was brand new to this high school, and she was the school slut. I had been to “third base” a few times with a few girls before that, heavy petting, making out, but nothing serious. No girl had ever made me come before. I had jerked off a few times, saw a few Skinemax movies with topless women on cable, but I was a typical 16 year old virgin.

Well, Chrissy told me she had gotten drunk at a football party and blew half the football team, in what amounted to a “ritual.” Guys lined up, she blew one after the other. I also knew she had a reputation from a few other girls I had met.

She was cute, long brown hair, an amazing body, I guess a “7.” So we’re working together on this after school activity, alone in a classroom, and we sort of accidentally bump into each other. My crotch sort of rubbed across her ass. There was a “moment” where we were both sort of turned on.

Then, I made my move. I sort of brushed my hand across her crotch, gave her a smirk, and was shocked – totally unprepared for what happened next. She said, “you made me really wet. I’m really turned on. Want to mess around?”

A hour later, she was blowing me in the band room. I came in her mouth. She would blow me two more times over the course of the week.

Um, that’s it. She just wanted some sexual attention. But I’ll always remember her, because she was the girl that “turned me out.” She was a slut that recruited me into the slut lifestyle.

Well, I would write about my babysitter who used to rub me under the dinner table, barely able to contain her laughter because my mom didn’t notice, but it would probably be illegal to write about it, as she was 17 and I was 12. Remember, it’s only child molestation when men do it.