Wednesday, April 30, 2008

CBW #80 Real Rookie Cock


SB says in his email "that he has never done anything like this before"
I'm sure glad you started with Dirty Debbie's blog.
And to answer both questions/comments
Yes, you'll get more stories and Yes, you'll always be good enough for this blog.

Remember guys, CJ's Friday posts will stop if each chapter is not paid for with a CBW.
This our last submission for now. That will pay for the May 2nd posting and that's it.
As I've said, I love his stuff (what's new). It's different than mine and, I think, it's really adding more value to the blog.

Remember to send me your special pic for a Dirty Debbie CBW just click on the button on the sidebar that looks like this:

Sunday, April 27, 2008

Sex News Sunday #2

First things, first. CJ and I are leaving for what hopes to be a wonderful vacation today.
We have used Blogger's draft dashboard to set up some scheduled posts that will appear during the week we are gone. Once we are rested and reconnected we will return to more time postings. Now for the first of these scheduled posts...


This week included AIDS Awareness Day. This year there was a lot of focus on the increase of the disease in children from the age of 13 to 19, this according to Centers For Disease Control
According to the article in the Hartford Courant the day for awareness this year was used to push for sex education. I'm a great believer in education of all kinds, but there is something special about sex education. A lack of education at any time leads to fear and prejudice, two things we definitely need less of in the world today. Why would we want our children to suffer and die from such a disease just because of a lack of education or an unhealthy attachment to the excuse of it ruining morals.
If at all possible, bring truth to young people you know.

Friday, April 25, 2008

Secret Sins: Chapter 3 "Meine Ehre heist Treue"

"Meine Ehre heist Treue" Part 2 of 2



It was about then that Doris arrived with our drinks.
Doris was much older than I thought she was when I came in the front door of On the Rocks, and after looking at her for a moment, it appeared that she had applied her makeup hurriedly, and with a trowel or paintbrush I imagined.
"Fast enough for ya shit head? Got sum fresh meat today, eh" grinned Doris. This comment immediately earned her a backhand bitch slap across the face from my ham handed host. "Shut yer fuck'n mouth and mind yer goddamned business ya drunken used-up whore!" screamed Dagger as the words and spit of anger shot close into Doris' face.
Doris, having seen it all I guess, simple wiped her face off in one fell swoop, put her head back and laughed like a woman possessed by demons (which I suppose was entirely the case in a manner of speaking), turned on spike heals, and headed back to her domain.
"She's a backdoor beauty, but I wouldn't touch her with a 10 foot pole" growled Dagger, "Owns the bar here after she slit her 'ol man's throat with a butcher knife a few years back and blamed it on one of us.
'Points' took the fall for it to save the old bitch, and after a couple of well placed bucks, the charges were dropped. "Insufficient evidence" was the final outcome. That's 'Points' over there." Dagger gestured towards a skinny, older guy with muscles bulging from his sleeveless vest.
"Doris got the place and the insurance money so to thank us, lets us use the place as a clubhouse and drink at cost. Pretty sweet deal if you ask me. Lots of fun too when they have weekend furlough at 'Pendleton - get to beat up lots of those snotty flyboys from Oceana when they wander in all cock sure and spoiling for a fight. Guess they think they're all Tom Cruise or something.
Those other swabbies from the Seal base are motherfuckers 'though. We respect them bud/s, especially those guys from team 6. There was this guy named Snake that we made an honorary Pope after he..."
Dagger's voice trailed off. "Shit. Let's drink", he said as he downed two of the Jack shots one after the other, and chugged a beer even before I could toss mine down. The Jack Daniel's hit pretty hard, but the beer was like sweet nectar after the ride to the bar.

Dazed suddenly as the whisky hit me, I think I crossed my eyes for a second and returned, only to see Dagger whispering to one of his outlaw brothers. The greasy biker leaning into the booth was leering at me as he palmed over something to Dagger and walked away, giving him a 'thumbs up' as he did.
"Heh heh heh. Diablo is always good for some blow, ya know? Want some?"
Dagger then opened his palm to show me a baggie the size of a large white stone, and a powdery stone at that.
"Is that what I think it is?” I asked.
"It sure is baby, it sure is.” said Dagger, his eyes glistening and a bit glazed over as he opened the baggie, then dumping the whole thing out on the cigarette scared table.
A pile of white powder the size a shape of a huge walnut lay in front of me, and I surmised what it was and where it was from, but I just had to ask. "Is that cocaine?" I said innocently.
"You bet yer double D's it is baby. Have some."

Dagger had pulled out his namesake, buried it into the pile, and then lifted the shining blade to my face. I winced a bit, but he reassured me, telling me to snort from the razor sharp edge. ""Gives it a double hint of danger, don't it?"
The coke stung my nose for a second, then everything went all shiny, just like Dagger's blade, and a rush came over my head as it tipped, almost involuntarily backwards. I blinked hard and cleared my nose, blinked hard, again then looked back at Dagger, my eyes swimming in my head from the almost pure powder.

His knife still in front of me, the point outstretched, I saw with sharpened eyesight that the blade had something etched on it.
"What's that on your blade there, the inscription?"
"Oh, that's German. It means, uh, 'My honor is my loyalty'. It's my motto."
Dagger flipped the knife around on his hand in a well practiced move and with one blow, drove it point first deep into the pile of coke, scattering it everywhere. "It's what I live by, my code. It's all that I am." he said again, staring hard at me before pulling his hair back and putting his face on the table to snort up whatever grains and clumps of coke were there.
If I was pretty fucked up by now, that much coke must have put him right over the edge because the next thing I knew, he had pushed back the booth he was sitting on, stood up and with his fists pounding a non-existent enemy in the air he screamed
"Meine ehre heist treue, meine ehre heist treue" at the top of his lungs.

All conversation and movement in the bar stopped for a second. Deadly silence filled the space. No one moved. I almost pissed my pants.
"Ah, shut the fuck up Dagger, sweet jesus fucking christ!" laughed one biker bigger than Dagger, and who I later learned was their club president."
He continued roaring and said "Yo! Diablo! Did you feed Dagger that crap we're trying to sell or the uncut shit? Goddamn-Jesus-fucking-kee-rist!”
About then the entire bar erupted in peals of laughter, the biker brothers hitting and slapping themselves on their arms and backs as they pointed and hooted at Dagger and me.

If I hadn't been so fucked up by this time, I suppose I would have slumped down in my seat in abject horror and humiliation, but whatever the stuff was that he gave me was indeed good, and all I could do was grin happily as my eyes swam around in my head.
"I have to pee." I said, and oh indeed I did, but just then I wanted to get to someplace where I could clear my head.
"Round the side of the stage" muttered Dagger as sat down and allowed his head to hit the table with a resounding thud.

Passing the stage with its blue lights, dirty, carpeted walls, and the well-worn but quite shiny brass poll, I felt my stomach going a bit sour and so hurried to the rear of On the Rocks to find the bathroom. In retrospect I suppose that it wasn’t such a brilliant idea hopping on the back of a passing biker after not eating all day. With Dagger doing a header onto our table, I could feel the heat of many eyes staring a hole in my butt, but no matter – business first.


The ladies bathroom, if you could call it that, was behind a door with a wooden vagina tacked up on it, which I almost hesitated to push open. Inside was what you would expect: two stalls, a sink, knotty pine walls and grimy floors very in need of some attention. I guess Doris didn’t come in here much or didn’t care; I’m not sure which bothered me more.
My head still swimming from the Jack and coke, I sat down hesitantly on the toilet and peed like there was no tomorrow until the waves of nausea hit me again and I hopped off to put my head in the toilet to relieve my aching belly. “Not good Deb, not good” I thought to myself, but wiping my mouth with the sandy toilet paper that was there, I was then startled by what I saw: a cock sticking out of a hole in the wall. Oh. My. God. This must be one of those infamous “glory holes” that I’d read about.


The more I looked away in revulsion, the more I thought of that cock sticking out the hole. Fairly long and skinny, it bobbed up and down as I knelt there, and God help me for all that I’d been through, it looked like a tube steak sandwich – good enough to gulp down in one bite. Sitting on the dirty floor for a second, I gazed back at the cock and thought to myself, “Well, why not. You came down here for an experience didn’t’ you?” Taking a deep breath, I decided to go ahead and just taste it. You know, kind of like just taking the first lick of an ice cream cone.
Like a tootsie pop, one lead to another and soon I was slurping and slobbering all over the cock in the wall like the champion cocksucker I had pretensions of being.
A few minutes later, after the sound of some groaning and moaning from the other side of the wall, I felt the cock head swell, and I knew that my efforts were soon to be rewarded. Pulling the swollen member in as far as I could, I was pleased to finally receive the explosion, almost choking on the size of the load. “Yup, tastes like sweet nectar” I thought as the cum sped down my throat .
A few quick licks and slurps later, and Mr. Happy went limp and withdrew.
Trying to see who it was, I peered through the hole only to see blackness.
Damn! Was it Dagger or someone else? Damn!

Gathering myself together, I washed my face off and gingerly stepped through the door back towards the bar.
The bikers and odd people that were there before were pretty much in the same place. Not expecting me, no one had their eye on me, nor paid much attention that I was there. I was baffled.
Arriving back at the table, Dagger had his head back up off the table and gave me a big grin as I sat down. “Took care of business did ya?” he asked.
“Yeah” I intoned. “But I really need to get back to town, ya know? I’ve, uh, gotta meet my friends for dinner, and I haven’t really eaten anything today.”
“Made an offering to the porcelain God did ya?”
“Yeah.”
“Ok, hows ‘bout we go for a ride? I’ll take ya back downtown”
Not wanting to offend this big biker by asking him to call me a cab, and frankly wanting to get some air and away from whomever I had just serviced (Was it Dagger?) I agreed.
Gathering his leathers, he motioned for me to follow as we made the rounds of his friends and club mates to say goodbye when Doris yanked Dagger by the lapels of his jacket over the bar as far as she could given Dagger’s size, and hissed at him “No charge today.”, then tossed back her head in raucous laughter.
Personally, I thought the big biker was going to pull out his namesake and give Doris a piece of it’s steel, but instead, he grabbed her hand off his lapel and told her to fuck off. This made Doris laugh even harder.

After heading out the door and getting on Dagger’s huge hog (that’s what they call them isn’t it), I hugged him around the waist and as we roared off, I heard myself thanking him. “Wot for kid?’ he asked in his gruff voice.
“For giving in to my adventure, the drinks, the coke.. but most of all, for getting me out of there.”
Hearing no response, I put my head on Dagger’s back as we tooled down the highway back to town, soon finding ourselves back on the main drag of Virginia Beach. Stopping in front of my hotel, he set the Harley down on it’s kickstand and leaned forward so I could get off. The stares of the tourists and townies alike was enough to tease a bit a laugh out of me, and I turned back to Dagger to thank him again.

“Thanks Dagger. I hope I can see you again.”
Dagger pulled out his wallet and handed me a club business card. On it was his handle (Dagger), a phone number, and the club logo: A Pope’s miter rising from a flaming bed of fire.
“If you’re ever in trouble with another biker or need help in an emergency – and I mean a REAL emergency – show them this card or give me a call.
“I really liked the time you showed me, especially in the bathroom.” I said.
Dagger just looked back at me blankly.
“I mean” I said with a bit a blush and taking my voice down a notch or two, “you have a really nice cock and I’d like to see it again.”
Dagger just looked back at me for a minute, drilling deep into my head.
Finally, he spoke. “That wasn’t me. I had an ‘accident’ back in ‘Nam.”
“But, but, but.. who?”
The traffic and sound of Dagger’s bike cut off my voice as he put up the kickstand and cracked it into gear. Giving me a wink and starting his U-turn out into traffic I heard him say something, something that I didn’t quite catch.
“WHAT???” I screamed at him as he sped away.
Then I heard Dagger, his voice fading into the distance.
“Itt …wasss…. D... .. o.... ... .r ... .... ... .i .”
.
.
.
OH.
MY.
GOD!


Maybe it was then that I realized I had an addiction to cock.
Then again, maybe not.

Wednesday, April 23, 2008

CBW #79 A Helper

"T" gives us a new handsome cock to enjoy and was kind enough to say:
"I read you were low on CBW pics, well I hope these help"'?
It helps and keep enjoying CJ's story.

Remember guys, CJ Friday posts will stop if each chapter is not paid for with a CBW. Right now we have enough for three more chapters. I don't know about you, but I love his stuff (what's new) so far. It's different than mine and, I think, it's really adding more value to the blog and part 2 of Secret Sins: Chapter 3 is a doozy!
Remember to send me your special pic for a Dirty Debbie CBW just click on the button on the sidebar that looks like this:


Sunday, April 20, 2008

Sex News Sunday #1

As mentioned in my post on Tuesday the 15th 'My News' I am starting a regular item for Sundays: current events about sex.

The first bit of news involves research coming from The Kinsey Institute at the University of Indiana.
As the newswise site puts it, they have found that:
WHEN IT COMES TO SEX, SOME MEN ARE FROM MARS, OTHERS FROM VENUS
It's research about men reporting a variety of different experiences involving sexual desire and arousal.

The focus groups involved 50 men divided into three groups based on their age (18-24 years, 25-45 years and 46 and older). Below are some examples of the different experiences reported by the men:

* Some factors, such as depression or a risk of being caught having sex, were reported by some men as inhibiting sex, while other men found that they can enhance their desire and arousal.
* An erection is not the main cue for men to know they are sexually aroused. Most of the men responded that they can experience erections without feeling aroused or interested, leading researchers to suggest that erections are not good criteria for determining sexual arousal in men.
* Many men found it difficult to distinguish between sexual desire and sexual arousal, a distinction prominent in most sexual response models used by researchers and clinicians.
* The changes in the quality of older men's erections had a direct effect on their sexual encounters, including, for some, a shifting focus to the partner and her sexual enjoyment. Older men also consistently mentioned that as they aged, they became more careful and particular in choosing sexual partners.
* The sexual history of women also mattered to the men -- but differently for different age groups. Sexually experienced women were considered more threatening by younger men, who had concerns about "measuring up," but such women were considered more arousing for older men.

To read more about this subject and the research go to:
Research and Insights from Indiana University at newswise.

Thursday, April 17, 2008

Secret Sins: Chapter 3, "Meine Ehre heist Treue"





Returning to reality after my all too brief reverie of the past, I shook off thoughts of Joel to see Ben still staring holes deep into my blissful face.
What manner of person was this that would approach me, openly challenging my inner sexual desire with a look that reminded me of a cherished memory while frightening my core with paranoid thoughts? With my mind racing faster as I attempted to grasp just what Ben was asking of me, various words spilled from my mouth in a torrent of petulant rage.
"Who the fuck are you and why do you know so much about me? How in the name of Athena do you know about who or what the fuck I like to do and where in shit to did you find out about what I choose to wear or not wear under my clothes?"

A slight smirk of a smile crossed Ben's face for a millisecond as he starred down towards his shoes, and I could almost see a glimmer of a dimple on his cheek as he began to talk to his feet. "Well, that's kind of a long story, and it is a bit secret, but we think that we can trust you with a bit of information at this point". Shifting his feet from the top of one Thom McAn to another (hey, a girl can tell a lot about a man by what kind of shoes he wears, and these were a strictly Industrial Office type shoes that had been polished a lot) Ben began to vaguely describe a scene from my past, and not necessarily a pretty one that I chose to remember until he brought it back to my memory.
"Do you happen to recall a fellow named Paul Stansfield? Big guy, about 6'6", 230 pounds, long haired fellow?"
Frantically searching my recollections from the hundreds of men that I had met in the past, not all of which I had dalliances with, I just couldn't recall the name in order to associate a face.
"Biker bar called On the Rocks in Virginia Beach ring a bell?
How about the name "Dagger"?
Oh.
My.
God.

Do ya know how some parts of you life stick out like a sore festering thumb while others just get buried farther as time goes on? The mind is like that. It shoves the bad stuff down in to little cracks and crevices and removes all traces of light from incidences that are best not remembered except in a confessional. This was one of them, and it came boiling to the surface as soon as Ben said the words "Virginia Beach". Coupled with the words "biker bar", a sodden beam of wood came careening off my head, forcing me to remember times left forgotten.
The name Dagger then was a brick thrown straight to the center of my forehead, and the whole episode came flooding back.

It was the mid 80's and I was young, and the Spring Break thing was getting into full swing, what with the headiness and pain of the 70's giving way to the exhilarating optimism of the Reagan administration. The greed generation was underway, and Bolivian Marching Powder was everywhere to be found. Knowing this, my freshman college girlfriends and I had saved the dollars we earned at one of the various low-paying slop outlets in the town that employed 17 year old girls, and pooled resources to head to what was then the hot spot of teenage debauchery.



Scoring a room near the beach, we spent our days lounging in the sun or playing bikini beach ball, hoping that our outfits were skimpy enough and our boobs bouncing hard enough to attract some young cock stud out on the make. The beer flowed and the sand flew as we made our choices for the night, a regular meat market affair on a grand and sweaty scale.
The first day in town some of my girlfriends got gluttonous, hankering for the first cock they saw swinging in their face though swim trunks, and began humping like whores in an orgy fuck fest.
That soon gave way to the realization that there were soooo many boys out there that they could actually be choosy. I hope that this doesn't come as a complete shock guys, we girls want to be something more than a cum dump that gets rolled out the door after a few minutes of grunting a groaning.

So I laid back and perused the scene as it flowed by, pulling hard on the joints that occasionally were passed, enjoying the newfound freedom that my pussy was craving in that God-forsaken Midwestern college town. I think it was on the fourth or fifth night that the beer, dope and fucking random boys actually began to get boring (I know! Listen to me!) that I began to crave something different, something more experienced, something a bit more randy with a hint of danger attached.
With this in mind, I began to cruise Virginia Beach's famous Pacific Avenue in search of that something different. What a scene this is with the vendors and bars, but it's more tightly controlled these days with cameras mounted on light poles and policemen quietly sneaking up on you via mountain bikes. In those days, you could just about get away with smoking a joint out in the open as you walked down the street, but I guess thanks to this attitude and Pat Robertson who has his church here, VB has become more "family friendly", and they don't cotton to the open attitude that we so earnestly embraced.
Out here I felt a bit freer, and even though I was surrounded by tons of people I kept my eye out for just that one Big Thing, and there it was. Stopped at the intersection of Pacific Avenue and 22nd street were a group of guys on big Harley Davidson motorcycles, sitting there on chrome beasts vibrating and glistening as the late afternoon sun beat down hard upon them.
Something came over me to this day I don't know why I did it except by virtue of youthful hubris, and I ran over and hopped on the back of the nearest rumbling stallion, grasping the huge guy in front of me around the waist hard as the light turned green and he roared off toward the South side of town.


I thought it strange that he didn't say anything or react in any way to this intrusion of his mechanical solitude, but a mile down the road I heard him grunt "Wot's yer name?" in a rumbling voice that matched his machines motor.
"Uh, Debbie" I said back. "Speak up girl!" the biker shouted again.
"DEBBIE!" I shouted into his ear.
"Name's Paul, but my 'bros call me Dagger"
Dagger.
Dagger danger. Danger dagger. Danger, meet Dagger - Dagger, danger.
It was about then that I realized that he was wearing a vest stitched with patches, the top one with the words "Pope's of Hell" embroidered upon it. I said it before and I'll say it again: Oh. My. God!
As Dagger went zooming hard into a sharp corner, my hands slipped down for a better grip and I quickly understood his nickname.
It was a dagger all right, one I found out later was originally given to the notorious Oskar Dirlewanger by the equally loathsome Heinrich Müller, but then returned to the SS chief to prove that Dirlewanger had indeed been arrested by the French. Dagger was reluctant to say more about his namesake save to say that his grandfather had given it to him before he died.

Finally zooming into the parking lot of what resembled a large, broken down shack with a bent up sign that read "On the Rocks", Dagger put his kickstand down, shut off the engine, and just sat there. One of his fellow bikers sauntered over and addressed Dagger directly. "Hey bro, looks like ya picked up a little baggage in town!" "Yeah," said Dagger, "but I ain't seen her yet. She a dog?"
"Hell no Dag, she's stone cold fox and frum the look of it, she's got a nice rack too!"
"Yeah, I figgered that when I felt 'em press'n into me on the turn back there."
He turned to look at me and said "Well, you gonna get off bitch er wot?"
I'm sure my mouth was hanging open at that point as I climbed off the big Harley's back butt pad, because Dagger's biker brother said to him "Looks like that mouth flapp'n open could suck the exhaust out of my tailpipe any day dude!" Both laughing hard, they each gave the other a High Five and I knew I was in for trouble, how much so I would just have to find out on my own.
"Well," said Dagger, she DID say her name wasss 'Debbie'" and with that, the two men fell all over each other howling and hooting.
My name has given me trouble ever since some boys in 6th grade class snuck into a local porn store.

I had turned around red faced with my back to the bikers and was staring at the empty lot across the street when I felt a hard slap on my ass and a huge, calloused hand grab me by the arm to swing me around. "Lemme look at you girl" said Dagger as I stumbled under his firm grasp.
Looking me up and down, his gaze turned to my bikini-tethered breasts as I felt my nipples stiffen with a combination of excitement and fear.
"Damn! You got some fine tits there little girl, some FINE ass tits!"
A look of fear and trepidation must have crossed my face because as Dagger lead me to the entrance of the bar with his other club members, he stopped for a second, looked me in the eye and asked me how old I was. "How old do you think I am?" I asked. "That's not the point." Dagger hissed at me. "Tell me the truth."
"I'm 18." I said.
I lied, or course.
Perhaps a muscle twitch betrayed me, but cocking one eyebrow in the air, Dagger surveyed me for a moment and with his hand firmly planted on my arm, began to walk me to his hangout. Lowering his voice as we walked he said, "OK, but if you want to leave, you just let me know. You're here with me, and you're safe as long as I'm around, but don't go off anywhere with any of the other bro's or you're on your own." A somewhat sigh of relief crossed my mind, and I lightened up a bit.

It was your usual stereotypical biker bar or at least it was everything I had ever imagined in the Midwest, watching B-movies as I babysat some long asleep youngster.
Loud music blared from a jukebox - I swear to God, it was "Tequila" by The Champs - fairly dark, a long grimy bar with a guy passed out on it, pool tables and pinball machines, and the slightly sickening smell of beer that had been spilled on the floor ages ago. Whether it was out of a glass or out of a stomach was entirely up to interpretation.
Several other women dressed in jeans and leather vests were pawing over some of the bikers we had come in with, and looking to the right, I saw a stage bathed in blue light, bedecked with a large pole going floor to ceiling. Having never seen or been in a strip club before, I deduced from the girls slobbering over the men there, and from descriptions gained reading novellas as a horny teenager that this was indeed, a strip club or sorts, albeit, probably private I thought. After all, who in their right mind would come in here?

"Ya wanna beer?" asked Dagger as he led me over to a side wall booth. Noting the parched feeling in my throat after the bike ride, I nodded my acceptance at the offer. "Doris! Gimmee four Millers, four shots of Jack, and get the lead out bitch!" he screamed at the bartender over the background music.
Turning back to me, he asked me why the fuck I had jumped on the back of his bike back in town, and if I knew how dangerous that kind of stunt was with "his type". More questions came before the beer; where was I from, how many siblings, did I go to school, who was I here with and most importantly, did my friends know what I had done.
Answering quickly and needing that beer desperately, I told him about life in the Midwest, and why I had come to Virginia Beach: cock, beer and drugs.
"Oh yeah, spring break. Lots of pussy, an ocean of beer, and tons of drugs. Ain't America great?"
I had to agree with him that it was.


Next: Secret Sins: Chapter 3 - "Meine Ehre heist Treue", Part 2

Wednesday, April 16, 2008

A New Contributor

A reader known simply as SimpleGifts read my stories on Literotica and decided to visit the blog.
A portion of his email said:
"...read a few entries and really enjoyed it, so I thought I should contribute to your cause...got more angles if you need 'em. ;)"
No need for more angles, you look fine straight on, thanks.

Remember guys, CJ Friday posts will stop if each chapter is not paid for with a CBW. Right now we have enough for three more chapters. I don't know about you, but I love his stuff (what's new) so far. It's different than mine and, I think, it's really adding more value to the blog.
Remember to send me your special pic for a Dirty Debbie CBW just click on the button on the sidebar that looks like this:


Tuesday, April 15, 2008

My News

I've waited a few days to share this good news. The Fellatrix has invited me to become one of her Fellatrices. I was extremely honored, and after being assured that my writing was good enough for her site, I whole-heartedly accepted.
My blow job stories will posted on her site every Sunday. My first post will appear on May 18th.
I will cross post here on Mondays because I've come up with a new idea for a regular subject for Sundays - Sex News Sunday. I subscribe to different sites and Google Alerts to keep up on the current events about sex. It's amazing the different studies, information, self-help, and tips that are out there. I'm not talking about gossip or pornography. I mean news. I really am always keeping the description of my blog in mind:
Some of the random dirty little thoughts that may run through my head on any given day. Fantasy, reality, current events, let's talk dirty. Remember the brain is the largest sex organ.

I think Sex News Sunday could provoke some interesting comments and discussions.
Let me know what you think.

Friday, April 11, 2008

Secret Sins: Chapter 2 - My First Cock

(Don't forget to read Part 1)

During my college days I was a very studious girl, excelling in all
of my classes, and making the dean’s list every semester for four years after exiting High School a year earlier than my peers. Being the product of Midwestern WASP parents meant that a good work ethic and sense of right and wrong had been instilled in me at a very early age, and of course continues to this day. “If you start a job, finish the job and do it right the first time” my father said, and frankly I’ve always found it to be true. I mean, if you decide to do something – anything quite frankly – then you’ve made a contract with your inner self and the outside world that you accept the challenge put forward, and if that’s the case, then why would you not want to put your best effort out in order to achieve the desired goal?
Such was the case with sucking cock I guess.

I’ll never forget my first boyfriend’s, they first guy I ever kissed; his name was Joel Slone and he lived down the street from me when we lived in Indianapolis.
What is it about the first kiss or the first boyfriend that you never forget? Is it the feeling down deep inside, those hormones raging ceaselessly coursing through your bloodstream, or is it the first excited tingle “down there” that you felt but weren’t supposed to talk about (oh no, MidWASP’s almost NEVER talk about sex except after they’re married, and then only to their partner in darkened rooms and in hushed, frightened whispers)
For me, it was Joel’s eyes.
No, it wasn’t the color (hazel), but something behind them that I could never quantify, some deep quality lurking beneath the surface ready to burst forward like an unexpected volcano explosion. Not violent, but creative in a way.

Ah, I miss Joel and have always wondered what happened to him.
It was Joel that introduced me to kissing when we were 12, and three years later to what a hard boy-man felt like. Me, I was scared and quivering at the time, but excited as well as I’d seen pictures of a man’s penis in health class, but never one standing straight up at attention and in full glory before, and being the raging hormone laden young person that I mentioned before, was curiously excited to touch this throbbing part of my boyfriend’s body. And I DO mean throbbing!
Oh God, I remember it to this day.

Joel and I had snuck into the baseball dugout at school to eat lunch alone when I noticed him as he stopped in mid chew and began staring at my well beyond budding breasts beneath my blouse. Something surged through me like fire.
As soon as I had noticed Joel’s gaze and almost unbeknownst to me, my nipples popped up as the rush settled through me and I actually felt Joel’s eyes begin to bore holes though my blouse and cotton bra at them.
It was about that time that I noticed the tent that had arisen in his pants, down in his crotch. “Oh my!” I thought. “What’s that?”
Joel looked at me and I looked Joel in those beautiful eyes and I could see what he wanted, to touch my breasts, so I made the decision that this was the day that he would just get past brushing by them every so innocently to actually seeing and feeling them.
I do so love the look and feel of a throbbing cock in my mouth, no matter for how long. So sue me.

Not averting my gaze from him, I began to unbutton my blouse and show him my Pride and Joys. My P&J’s had come in a couple of years earlier, slowly at first then over the summer of my 12th birthday, bursting forth much to my mother’s chagrin. She kept me in clothing that hid them, just telling me that it wasn’t “polite” to show them off, and NEVER to boys.

Oh, we had “The Talk” in a round about way I guess, strictly the facts, but never anything about the feelings or the act. Abstinence only: and this was the early 70’s! LOL! Talk about abstinence, I almost never saw my parents holding hands, and only on the rare birthday or celebration did I observe them even kissing, but then only a quick peck on the lips. Never in my wildest dreams did I ever fantasize about them in the act of making love, nor did I want to after “The Talk”.
Removing my blouse slowly, I thought that I saw a quiver on Joel’s lip as he reached out tentatively towards by breast. Hesitating a moment, he then grabbed my P&J’s a bit too hard, but quickly finding a happy medium, began to squeeze and caress them.
I know now his hesitation was justified given the size and quality of my P&J’s (I do so love them myself as they are still firm, full and hard), but he sallied on, sliding his hand under the cup of my left breast, hesitating ever so slightly at the feel of my bulging nipple. I knew immediately by his touch that this was the first time that he had felt an actual erect nipple, the touch that of an inexperienced lover. For myself, I had enjoyed making my nipples hard from, shit, almost the first moment I can remember. The feeling of the blood coursing through my veins towards by areolas buried deep in my brain from youth, but now, so much different that someone else was manipulating them.

Again, I noticed the bulge in his pants, but now, some animalistic instinct had come over me and I found myself reaching out to touch his crotch, probably too hard at first similar, to how he had grabbed me but them finding an easy medium as if I had been born to it.
Quickly unzipping his pants to reveal his white briefs, I could see his penis straining at the bit as it were, to be revealed in all of its glory. Stroking it softly but firmly, I could also sense the throbbing lying between scant millimeters of fabric and with almost unconscious knowing, released his shaft from its confines.

Oh glory, the first time I ever saw a hard cock! I don’t know to this day what came over me, but without hesitating, bent over and placed my mouth around his bulge, automatically moving up and down with it in my mouth as my tongue caressed the hard vein-y shaft.
It was much to my surprise (and I’m sure a look of consternation had crossed my face had Joel see it), that something hot and slightly salty went shooting into my mouth.
Quickly pulling my face away from his cock and spitting I exclaimed, “Oh my God, did you just pee in my mouth?”
It was about then that I noticed Joel shuddering with immense spasms, his head slight cocked back at a weird angle, twitching as if he was having a seizure, but with this blissful look on his face.
Momentarily he regained his composure, looking at me with those beautiful eyes, and said “Uh, , uh, no. I think I did what they call cumming. Oh my God, it felt so good!”
Mmmm. I’ll never forget the first taste of cum – Joel’s cum ¬– so sweet yet salty, so smooth, like pudding – yes, Man Pudding – as it slipped down my throat. I was hooked, and I’ve never looked back.

Sure, there were lots of other boyfriends and lovers throughout my future school days, and yeah, maybe I did have some kind of reputation as a girl who gulped a good gob, but I was choosy and it quickly got around that I wouldn’t slurp just any old schlong; I may be easy, but I’m not sleazy.

As to the two of us, Joel looked down at me quite embarrassed and stumbled out an apology as quickly as he fumbled to recover his pants. I’ve never understood men who don’t like to bask in the afterglow as I call it, reveling in the feeling of bliss that accompanies the perfection of orgasm. Mostly it reminds me of seeing the sex films in biology class where one monkey comes up behind a female, mounts here, shoves it in a couple of times, then BAM!, he’s gone onto another butt scratching exercise with his buddies while the female just hunches there looking stoned. I know that we’re supposed to be evolved beyond the animalistic instincts of our poor cousins, but I mean really!
Anywho, I do so love the look and feel of a throbbing cock in my mouth, no matter for how long. So sue me.


Next chapter of Secret Sins: Part 3, "Meine Ehre heist Treue"

PS: We appreciate all comments - good or bad - and remember that I will continue to post chapters to this story each Friday as long as DD receives pix for her CBW.
Thanks,
CJ

Wednesday, April 9, 2008

CBW #77 Better Than A Picture

Folks, this is a first, a movie for a CBW. This will count towards two installments of CJ's story.
Sean sent in a picture in August of last year, this is a great follow up.
The email included the following phrase:
"I did what I could as soon as I heard you needed cock."
What else could a girl want to hear?






Sunday, April 6, 2008

Secret Sins: The Undisclosed Story of my Bad Reputation

Throughout my life I've been and done many things, but nothing as weird and kinky as being an on-call slut for the FBI in WITSEC.Now let's clarify something here: I didn't get it on with every field agent or assistant director, no, I was on call just in case one of their people in the witness protection program or perhaps a snitch, wanted a little relief and comfort.There, I said it, and frankly it feels good to get it out in the open after all these years.
How I became a highly paid confidential "companion" was all by accident or so I thought for quite some time. I was just a normal working girl - get your mind out of the gutter, not THAT kind of working girl - who went to college and was spending time slaving away in the normal workaday world as a secretary, with designs on a masters program at one of the local colleges when one evening I accepted an invitation from some of my coworkers to go to one of their favorite hangouts for a drink or two. Wanting to fit in with my newish colleagues, I readily accepted the invitation.

Sitting at the pub chatting with my fellow office droids was at first exciting as I wanted to fit in with them just a little bit better, but soon I learned that they were just another part of the large percentage of 'droids out here in the business world that are fed up, frustrated, and angry with the direction that their lives have taken, with not a scintilla of ambition to change the situation other than to stab each other in the back as they attempt to kiss the boss's ass on the way up the corporate ladder.

Finding such dreck virtually unappealing, I had just turned around on my stool at the bar when the bartender approached me with a drink in his hand. "This is from the guy at the end of the bar" he intoned in a rather bland I've-heard-this-a-thousand-times-before voice as he set the cocktail in front of me.
I'm sure the quizzical look on my face was priceless as I glanced at the other end of the room, but sure enough, there was your standard young executive giving me a short wave of hello.
"Hmm. Not bad looking I guess, and I like his suit although he sure didn't spend a lot of money on it" I thought. Waving back with a little grin on my face, my next thought was one of excitement that a guy had found me attractive enough to buy me a drink, but then turned a little downward as I winced while thinking of some of the tools that I had met in meat market ventures of the past. Too late, he had left his stool and was heading for me.
I was genuinely freaked but in a kinky sort of way, I wanted to know more - much more.

My mind now racing at a hundred miles a second, I quickly turned back to my coworkers and began chatting with my friend Dawn when Mr. Mystery Man sidled up to me and sat down. "Hi there" he said to me, obviously not caring that I was engaged in
conversation with another girl. Not wanting to be too forward, I twisted my head around and said "Just a second" to him before turning back to my conversation. Dawn leaned in towards me and whispered excitedly "I think he wants to talk to you", whereupon I whispered back "Yeah, I know, but I don't want him to think I'm too eager". "Oh go on!" chimed Dawn, and so I turned around to MMM and said, "Hi, I'm Debbie, and this is Dawn" as I extended my hand. "Thanks for the drink". "Hi there yourself. My name's Ben, and I couldn't help noticing you from across the bar".
Drivel. Poor pickup line. Bleh. Those were the first thoughts that crossed my mind. Not wanting to be impolite, after all, my parents raised me right, I swiveled back around to the bar with a flourish and that's when I noticed Ben's eyes. Deep pools of blue drilled into me like a bullet, and somewhere in my gut, a punch had been thrown. "Uh, yeah, I umm, I mean we're just, uh.." was all I could stammer out. "Yeah I know" said Ben, "Just out with the office, eh"
I heard what he said, but I just couldn't look away from those eyes. I mean, Ben's face was just OK as guys go, but those eyes got to me somehow, they were deep and intense, burning their way into me with a cold fire that I hadn't felt in some time. Pinch me. Hard!

"Soooo, you come here often,” Ben said smoothly, and I just about passed out laughing from such a juvenile come-on line.
"If that's the best you can do, then thanks for the drink and see ya" I said.
"Oh come on, I'm sorry. Give me another chance. I mean, you just looked so LONELY sitting there surrounded by your friends, I just thought that you might be up for an adventure".
That got my attention.
"What kind of adventure?" I asked.
"The kind that you could perhaps, make some money with in your spare time"
Oh God.
"Sorry Ben, I'm not that kind of girl. Maybe you should try one of the decked out bimbos at the other end of the bar".
"Sheesh, I'm sorry, I gave you the wrong impression. Look" he said holding up his hand to show me a gold band around his left fourth finger, "I'm married".
Yeah, I've heard that one before too.
"Look champ, I told you that I'm not that kind of girl, so bug off!"
"Wait a minute Ms. Cooper, what I'm offering you is a way out of boring office drudgery every so often, and the chance to make the kind of money that would allow you to finish your graduate studies” said Ben.
Now, it wasn't the suggestion that I could get away from a boring job, or even that I would be able to finish my Masters degree in record time, but the first thing he said that really caught my attention.
"How did you know my last name?" I asked.
Looking downwards with a little blush on his face, Ben answered, "I know a lot about you - A LOT" "Like for instance that your online chat handle is 'apple1959' or the fact that you prefer to wear lace La Perla underwear, or even that you go out to bars like this one with no underwear on at all"Whoa whoa whoa! Now it's getting intense, bordering on creepy. I mean, stop the presses!
"Like I said, I know a lot about you" said Ben, his eyes boring into mine.

The cat in me was curious, very curious, so I said, "Go on".
"Well, I know for a fact that you would stumble all over yourself to smoke some pipe.
You know, worshiping the big salami. To be quite blunt, I know for a fact that you love to suck cock, almost any cock. You worship at the alter of the big snake and would do almost anything to have the feel of a fat penis in your mouth, sucking the guy off until shoves it in hard and fast and cums down your throat."
His said this with such little emotion or kink in his voice that frankly I was aghast and quite a bit scare, and Ben allowed me to sit there in stunned silence for moment as the thought of what he has said sank into my brain.
Just about then, Dawn came over and asked me if I was all right. "Deb, what's wrong, you seem to be trembling. Ish this guy bother'n you 'cause if heish I can get Stan to come over and pound the shit out him!" she slurred.
"No, I'm fine Dawn. Ben just gave me something to think about all of a sudden. I'll be fine, really".
With a reassuring look that bordered on concern, Dawn said OK, and returned to my fellow workers, leaving me pondering some pretty tough thoughts in my mind.
Who was this guy who was hitting on me, why did he know so much about me? I mean, my inner thoughts and desires, and for God's sake, even what kind (if any) underwear I decided to wear that day.
I was genuinely freaked, but in a kinky sort of way, I wanted to know more, much more.

Next in Secret Sins chapter 2: My first cock

Look for it Friday...

Friday, April 4, 2008

The Dish Best Served Cold

OK, OK In my last post about infidelity I said I would get back to erotic story writing. Obviously, I haven’t done that yet, I’m still in need of some inspiration. While waiting for this inspiration, I came across an interesting article on the CNN.com site. It seemed to be the perfect ending to the entire infidelity series that included these posts:
Topic Of The Day-Infidelity
Commentary On The Comments
CJ’s Thoughts On Fidelity



The title of that article was: When he's a Cheat, Revenge Seems Sweet

It gives many examples of what women scorned do for revenge and why. Before I get into that though, I will make a confession.
I have indulged my need for revenge once.
I was young and stupid and in college. I was a sophomore and he was a junior. His name was Steve. I won’t go into our relationship other than the fact that it ended very badly. I quickly thought of something to do to serve him that dish best served cold, revenge. I easily sneaked into the upperclassmen’s dorm when I knew he wasn’t going to be there. The only tool I had with me was small. It was a tube of Krazy Glue ©. I squirted the acrylic resin not only into the lock on the door, but also in the hinge pins of the door hinges. It felt so good. I then quickly and quietly left. Although I was suspected, I was never caught. I was sick the day there was to be an inquiry in front of the student judiciary board. Then Spring break came along and I never heard anything about it again.

What I did was nothing compared to this:

… She unscrewed the door of her cheating ex's Audi, inserted a marble in the frame, then screwed it back together. It took mechanics months to find the cause of the rattling. At last they pulled out the marble and a note: "You finally found it, you fucker."

But as the saying goes, "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned."

So ladies now that I’ve confessed and given an example of another women’s revenge do you have any stories you’d like to share? Let me know.

Thursday, April 3, 2008

Enough is Enough Already!

This is a wonderful post from CJ, who is my greatest fan and advocate. I must admit I did edit part of his original post here. Originally he asked for money for the story he is writing (I've seen two parts and love it so far). But, money isn't what the site is about so I changed it to CBW submissions instead, please read below for details.


OK peep holes, since there seems to be no one reading this blog or submitting nice hard cocks for my delightful Dirty Debbie to drool over, I am setting my foot down.

Over the next few weeks I will be posting a story that's been rolling around in the back of my head, but the outcome will depend entirely upon you, fair readers.
I will post on an ongoing basis, but how often will depend on how much you donate to the CBW cause.
See, we get tons of hits, but only a few comments and as of late, no hard cocks for Debbie and it's really ticking her off.

Don't let this be us:


I'm asking you to help Debbie's inspiration by saying that yes here's a picture of what your blog does to my cock, you like what we're doing and yes, please continue. In doing so, you will by default be anonymously saying, "Yes, please continue your blog".

This is how it will work:
I post, you donate a CBW if you like it and want more, faster. No one likes a story drug out unless it's good, and this one's a doozy! The finished manuscript totals over 10,000 words, and it's a bit kinky. Strike that: it's REALLY kinky!

We KNOW that there are tons of people not only in the US, but in Europe, Asia, and the Middle East that read Dirty Debbie's Little Diary on a continuing basis, so show us your stuff.

In the words of Bartles and James, we thank you for your support!
CJ

Wednesday, April 2, 2008

CBW #76 - NOT !

No joke folks! I have not received any submissions recently. Last week CJ was kind enough to display his fineness. As much as I think it would be fun, I am not going to turn CBW into CJCBW.
Cum on guys...aren't you up for the job? ;)


Remember to send me your special pic for a Dirty Debbie CBW just click on the button on the sidebar that looks like this: