Sex and Death

Posted in Role Play with tags , , on January 21, 2010 by sexwars

No, not necrophilia.  Geez.  Although I admit, given what else I’ve written about, it’s not that far from possible.

This is about a man who has unresolved issues with his brother.

Opinion of me, not in any way a trained mental health professional.

However, I don’t think it’s a big stretch, considering that he talks about his brother’s funeral–nearly 11 years ago now–and wants me to describe having sex with him on top of the casket.

So far, so good.

No, really, that’s easy.  Pretend it’s a table, right?  I can fuck on a table.  I, personally, can fuck on a table, not just my alter ego. THAT’S how easy it is.  And I could probably get the extremely vanilla sex loving boyfriend to go with it, too, which says something else about table sex.  But that’s not where it ends, of course.

Because it’s NOT a table.  It’s a coffin.  A coffin containing the body of his dead brother.

No, I don’t know how he died.  I can’t imagine it was a GOOD death, given that the guy is probably mid-30s, now.  His brother was probably in his 20s when he died.  None of which is relevant, of course.

So we’re talking about wardrobe–sure, I always wear short flippy black skirts to funerals, sans underwear–and then we’re on top of the coffin, fucking.

“What would you say to him?” he groans, clearly getting close.

Well, fuck.  I don’t know.  The wrong thing could totally ruin his groove and I don’t want that.

“Mmmmm,” I murmur, buying some time, “Your brother is fucking me so good right now.”

“Yes, yes, yes!” he groans.

“And you’re never going to get to feel it.”

Apparently, the sibling rivalry thing never really goes away, because that did it for him.


Hair or Not?

Posted in Body Type, Uncategorized with tags , on January 20, 2010 by sexwars

I’ve been working under the impression that shaved pussies are the desirable thing now.  As such, my alter ego answers all questions to that effect with an emphatic “shaved.”

Although, technically, the way to do that routinely does not appear to be shaving so much as waxing.  Not the point.

I’ve been surprised–pleasantly, I might add–at the number of men that have recently begun to be disappointed by that.

Please, GOD, let that phase be running its course.  I’m just saying, the expectation of that kind of upkeep is kinda a pain in the ass, more or less literally.

So, for your own amusement and edification, I’m sharing with you what a nice man shared with me.  A collection of sites dedicated to the furrier ladies.

I’m not sure, actually, as I review these sites, that I’m willing to go quite that far.  I still support an end to fully shaven pussies, of course, from a purely lazy point of view.

Thoughts?  Shaven or unshaven?

Doggie Style

Posted in Bestiality with tags , , on January 19, 2010 by sexwars

This was my introduction to the wonderful world of bestiality.

In retrospect, I should have been far more cagey when he asked if that was my dog he heard in the background.  Having never had a bestiality call, I didn’t realize that answering yes to that question would lead to a situation where he would spend 20 minutes fantasizing about fucking my sweet little pup.


I know that people fuck animals, I do.  It doesn’t creep me out when it’s random animals, just when it’s my personal dog, that I’ve had since she was a puppy.

“Would you be jealous?”  he asked repeatedly, “If I wanted to fuck her?”

“I wouldn’t be jealous,” I responded, completely truthfully–there’s no implied competition with a dog, after all–“but I don’t want her to be hurt.  If she seemed like it was hurting her or that she wasn’t enjoying it, then I’d not want you to do it.”

“But if she was into it, then I could fuck her?”

Question: how do you determine that a dog is “into it”?

“Sure, if she was into it, you could fuck her.”

“Every night?”

“Um…sure….if you like.”

“Except when she’s in heat, or is she fixed?”

“She’s fixed,” I reply, slightly more wary this time around.

“Oh, good, you never know.”

Um…ok.  Never know what?  Because my memory of bio classes indicates that no, she’s not getting pregnant from him.  Granted, not everyone has taken biology, but if it was me, I’d do a fast google search before ejaculating in a different species.  That’s just me, though.

I couldn’t take it after a while, I had to ask.  “Have you fucked dogs before?”

“Not dogs,” he says, almost abashed.  “But sheep, I’ve fucked sheep.”

“And what’s that like, what makes it better than pussy?”

I’m genuinely interested, it’s not that common to fuck animals and I’m wondering what the appeal is.

“They are MUCH tighter than a pussy,” he says, as if that explains it all.

Oh.  Well, then.  Carry on.

Bukkake fun

Posted in Oral Sex with tags , , , on January 18, 2010 by sexwars

I kinda really like the bukkake crowd.  I mean, it’s not for me.  But they’re a fun group of people, in an “invest in high quality face wash” kind of way.

This guy, he kinda rocks my world.  He says (of course, I believe nothing on faith) that he likes nothing more than to have his face covered in come.  And so he asks his friends to bring THEIR friends and will have massive bukkake sessions where 30-70 guys will cover him in come.

The first time he said it to me, I was HIGHLY skeptical, simply because that many men should produce an alarmingly large amount of, um, fluid.  And so I asked him, how does that work?  Do they all blow at once, or what?  Because that seems like a suffocation type hazard.

“No, no, not all at once, OBVIOUSLY,” he responded, as if I was an idiot.  “They go one at a time, there’s no, like, mass orgasm or anything.  I have to suck each one just till he’s ready to come, so there’s no way they’d all be able to come at once.”

This seemed like a vast undersell of the general male ability to achieve orgasm with practically no stimulus whatsoever.  I mean,  I’ve known men to come from much, much less than just watching someone else come.

I suggested that to my caller, that perhaps the other men might occasionally be so turned on by watching him suck cock and get covered in come that they have no choice but to shoot their load.

He pondered it for a minute and then said, “Maybe they do, you know I close my eyes when I’m sucking cock, I might have missed the entire thing.”


Adventures in Masturbation, Part 3

Posted in Masturbation with tags , , on January 15, 2010 by sexwars

Note: So sorry this wasn’t up at the usual time.  Apparently I’m an idiot.  Movin’ on.

This is the very, very gross masturbation post that I have warned you about.  If you can’t handle grossness, walk away now.  You have been warned.

Men use many things to masturbate, of course.

Their hands, girls’ underwear, oils, lotions…all perfectly normal.

This one, not so much.

“I love to masturbate,” he says, as if he’s the only one in the world that has discovered it.

“Mmmm…really?”  I murmur, “tell me how you do it.”

“Lots of ways,” he says, “I don’t know if I should even tell you.”

Men say that to me a lot, and I always encourage them to tell me, because generally it’s not as bad as they think and besides, that’s what they’re paying me for.

“No, really, tell me,” I urge, “I really want to know.”

“I like to touch myself,” he says, “coat my cock in oil, like cooking oil, you know?”

Well, ok.  I would have invested in actual body oil myself, but whatever.

“Mmmm…and what else do you do?” I ask.

“I really love–do you like golden showers?”

Red flags go up.  Danger, danger, wackiness approaching from the east.

“Oh yeah,” I say, “I love that.”  But the thing is, I’m thinking true golden showers have no real application to masturbation, so I know this is not the end of this revelation.

“Well…I like golden showers, and I like shit.  So sometimes, I’ll take my shit, rub it all over my dick and use that to masturbate.”

Clearly, this is time for my default response.

“That’s so hot,” I say, “you cover the entire thing in shit?”

“Oh yeah, it’s so awesome, I just smear it all over and it’s warm and a little sticky and I come all over it.  It’s amazing.”

Yeah.  I know.  I could not make these things up if I tried.

Swingin’ low

Posted in Swingers with tags , on January 14, 2010 by sexwars

I love swingers.  I really, really do.  They are so much fun, so harmless.  No pedophilia, no incest, no animals.  Just consenting adults having hot sex.  May all the swingers specifically request to talk to me.

Among many fantastic callers that were swingers, I had one I especially enjoyed.  He’d call periodically, update me on he and his wife’s adventures, the things they were doing.  We had a friendly little relationship.  He’d share his–theoretically true–encounters, and I’d share my wildly inventive ones.  It was a good gig.

Then one day he called me, urgently whispering into the phone, “I just got home, and my wife is fucking someone else.”

Yawn.  Yeppers, that’s how that works.

“And?” I say as the pause lengthens. “Hasn’t she done that before?”

“Not like this,” he hissed into the phone.  “This is breaking the rules.  I’m not here for it, his wife’s not here for it, no one knows what they’re doing.  She’s CHEATING ON ME GODDAMMIT.”

I ponder this for a moment, because seriously, this woman has fucked half the state from all accounts.  Fidelity is NOT one of the major by-words of this relationship.  But at the same time, I can see his point.  Infidelity in a highly structured way is not the same as infidelity committed randomly.  I can see that.  I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do about it, since mostly my job is moaning and whatnot.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” I say, figuring, well, hell.  I’m his friend, of sorts.  Probably one of the few people he talks to about this that doesn’t know both parties.  I’m probably the closest thing to a therapist he has at this point, god help him.  “Do you think if you go in and join them, it’ll be ok?  Or will that make it worse?”

There was a long silence as he watched them fuck.  “Worse, I think.  I don’t know what I’m going to do.  I don’t want a divorce, but she’s CHEATING on me.  I don’t even know how long she’s been doing this, or who else she’s been fucking.”  He sighs heavily.  “I didn’t know who else to call,” he says at last.

“It’s ok, baby,” I say, as gently as I can, “It will be ok, I promise.  I’ve been cheated on, and I know how much you’re hurting.  But it will get easier and it will get better.”

“I guess.  Thank you for listening to me,” he mutters, clearly dispirited.  And then he hung up.  And I haven’t heard from him since.  I feel like I failed him in some way.  But it is what it is, I did the best I could in the moment.  I think of him from time to time.  He was a basically good guy, as all swingers seem to be.  I hope he’s doing all right.

Blood and Glory

Posted in Anal with tags , , , on January 13, 2010 by sexwars

So, here’s the thing.  I’m not really ABOUT blood.  I prefer not to experience it.  I don’t have an issue with it–I’ve been both a blood and plasma donator in my time–but it’s not something I seek.

I’m the one that when her OB/GYN said, hey, this has a few risks but you’ll stop having periods, said, YES.  Sure, fine, I’ll sign whatever waiver you like.  Sign me up immediately.

I say this because this is a serious WTF I’m about to lay down.  And if you’re very squeamish about blood, look away.

I am aware there are men that are not opposed to blood.  These men will gladly have barebacked sex during heavy flow days.  Some of these men will engage in cunnilingus during those days, although that’s less common.  These men are sissies compared to this guy.

“I pay a high school girl to masturbate for me,” he says, “and today she said she was on her period and couldn’t, so instead I paid her to give me the used tampon out of her pussy.  I put a little cream on it and inserted it in my ass.  It’s still there now.”

WTF?!  No, that’s not strong enough.  WTF?!?!  Closer.

“Mmmmm….that’s so hot,” I murmur.  Thinking, that’s SO fucked up.

“When’s your period coming?” he asked.  This is not that subtle.  Not like my friend that enjoys bestiality who worked in a question regarding pet ownership way in advance of asking to fuck my dog.  *shudder*

“Next week, maybe the week after,” I say, not wanting to enter into a discussion about my birth control and why I don’t get periods and that nonsense.

“Will you send me your used tampons?”

“I can’t have contact with you outside of the phone line,” I say.  Which is true.

“I wouldn’t tell,” he pleads.

“Hmmmmm,” I say.

“That sounds like a no,” he says, all petulant.

“They MONITOR these calls, you know,” I tell him, which is true.  I’m not sure how frequently or how, but technically, I know that every word I say could be heard again by my bosses.  “There’s no way to arrange a thing like that.”

“I bet you could if you wanted to,” he says, still petulant.  This is true, of course.  I could probably find his information and track him down online.  I do not wish to do so.

“What ELSE do you like?” I ask, in desperation…but that’s a story for a different day.