Happy 6th !

Today is the 6th anniversary of Debbie's Dirty Little Diary.
Even though I went on an extended “sabbatical”, I’m back, better than ever, and ready to celebrate.

The modern gift for the 6th anniversary is wood. In light of that I thought I would be able to pick and choose some CBW’s to show off their wood. That was impossible, so check out all that wood here and choose your own favorite.

The final part of my celebration is a bit selfish. I've decided to make a list of my top three stories in different categories. Check them out for the first time, or enjoy them all over again.

Please help me out and vote for your favorite genre at the end of the list.  Remember you have to ask for what you want or Dirty Debbie can't give it to.


Blowjobs
Debbie Does You #3
Fuck Me Like You Fuck Her – Part Two
Now It’s Face to Face (Delight Part Two)

Masturbation
The Unlocked Door – Part One
Tell Me
Bath Time For Debbie

Bondage and Force
You Are Mine! (Part Two-The Maid Gets Made)
Is It Safe?
Give It Up Woman
 
Threesomes
Debbie Does You #2
Let’s Enjoy The Buffet
The Unlocked Door – The Finale

Fetish and Kink
Winter Storm
You Are Mine –  Part One
Strapping It On For Him – Part Two




A thank you to all my readers, new and old.

#95 Hard Choice

David sent me lots of yummy picture, four to be exact. In was a "hard" choice, but you know I had to end up and pick the one with a handsome cock escaping from a pair of jeans, just a small fetish of mine.
Yes D, I like all of them, and obviously can use it on this website. Thanks again.

There's never enough CBW, so send me your special pic for Dirty Debbie to feature. Just click on the button on the sidebar that looks like this:

CBW #93 Contribution

'J' gave a pic of his wonderful hard cock and included a line I read often in my CBW submissions:
'Hope it's all right'.
I don't know what you guys are thinking, but I can't even imagine a bad CBW submission. J even knew about my special kink: cocks pulled out of pants.
Very sexy J and thanks again


There's never enough CBW, so send me your special pic for Dirty Debbie to feature. Just click on the button on the sidebar that looks like this:

Secret Sins: Chapter 9: "Seats of Power"

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Secret Sins: Chapter 5 "Justice"

Be sure to read Secret Sins chapter(s) 1, 2, 3 (part 1),(part 2) and 4

So after Ben had informed me that he had a pretty good idea what kind of girl I was like in bed and out, I decided to take him up on his offer of working for the 'company's' program, and found myself garnering a pretty decent second income since I started out pretty low on the totem pole. Those of you reading who understand such things may ask why I didn't start at say, xxxx, must also understand that my talents are very specialized and since the position was classified, my handlers wanted as few questions asked as possible. Not bad work if you enjoy it, and I most certainly did!

After the tedious hiring and security processes one must go through in order to gain entry to the highest echelons of government were complete, I began to have access to numerous high level contacts that would get me into deep doo doo if I were to mention any names, so I won't. Let me just say that I became aware of the semi-secret hidden tunnels between many government buildings, most very deep underground and with security that would make Mulder and Scully wince.
Oh yes, I sucked a lot of cock: big cock, small cock, misshapen cock, long short and everything in between. Famous and infamous, the spooge ran down my throat like liquor down a wino and I began to get a reputation around high-level circles in DC as a girl that could keep her mouth shut except when giving head.
You'd be surprised how much stress there is to be relieved in our nation's capital on a weekly basis, and to say that I gulped gallons of goo during the 80's would be an understatement.
But I digress. The story is about my adventures in the 'company' now isn't it?

My first assignment came about a week after I had undergone some training in Virginia - how to properly identify myself, what to say and more importantly what not to say.
The early days of my indoctrination introduced me to some pretty sleazy characters, some of which were in clients because they had testified at mob or drug trials, and who were now located in the sticks of America under assumed names. They let you keep your first name for obvious reasons, unless of course it's odd, and then they located you somewhere that the name is common. So for example, if your name was Sammy Gravano then you became Sam Deletori and someone like Max Mermelstein becomes Max Blomstein or some such name.
Then of course I was able to travel to such lovely locations as Otisville, Ny, Sandstone, Mn., Phoenix Az, Allenwood, Pa., and Fairton, Nj just to name a few. See, this is where the company has built high security facilities for special risk people, people who are already in prison that they may not want out on the streets or those that need special protection that a quiet cottage up in the hills surrounded by armed men cannot afford. And these aren't just prisons per se, but more like secure condominiums where the inmates can make phone calls whenever they please, along with eating food that most people can't afford.

This is a time of my adventure that I'm not proud of since most of these men where little more than low intelligence thugs who would just as soon beat your head to a bloody pulp as look at you, but I had a job and damn it, I was taught to finish it right the first time.
Bordering on mouth rape at some occasions, I would smile sweetly then hurry out of the facility or hotel room just so I could find a bar to wash the taste of angry sex out of my mouth. These guys were terminally pissed for the most part, even when they were happy.
I remember one rainy day when I was given an address to show up at, and so made my way down a side street of a certain American town to knock upon another anonymous door to give “aid and comfort” to another anonymous prick.
Ringing the bell on the brownstone, a voice barked out “What?!” loudly from a speaker, and I gave my code phrase “Hello”, I said, “I’m Debbie from Lone Star Realty”. That was my cover in most cases if anybody asked; a realtor.
A long pause.
“It certainly is lovely weather we’re having” came the voice in return.
Remembering the daily code phrase my contact had given me earlier I replied, “It’s lovely on Kent Island this time of year”.
The door buzzer startled me at first, and then I had the presence of mind to push the door open and walk into the vestibule, where I was immediately set upon by a very large man who threw me up against the wall. Once there, he proceeded to run his hands roughly all over my body, into my bra then down my legs, stopping at the crotch to feel my pussy through the gauzy dress I had chosen to wear on this occasion. Damn! I had had some rough sex before, but this was certainly an interesting way to start things rolling.
“Hey lover, let’s take it a bit slower, eh?” I was able to gasp out.
“No offense ma’am” grunted the ogre, “just do’n my job. Yous can go true dat dah over dey.” Pointing at a door on my right, I gathered myself together the best way I knew how, and started off towards the portal located halfway down a bland hall.
Opening the door I was surprised to find myself in a room with no lights, save the one inset in a soffit, pointed at a couch that held a rather non-descript package.
“Sit down” came the gravel toned voice from the corner shadows, “and take off your clothes”.
Harrumph. Straight to the point ‘eh?
Stripping off my raincoat, I struggled awkwardly with the zipper on the back of my little black slut dress I wore as a uniform until it sleekness slid slowly down to the fuck me pumps I always showed up wearing as well.
I dunno, but sitting there in just a sleek black panty and sheer bra set sent a quick tingle down my spine until the voice spoke again. “Open the box and put it on”
Withdrawing the string from the package, I opened it up to find two objects: one strange, one familiar.
“Do you want me to play with myself using this first?” I asked as I held up the pliable and very lifelike dildo in my hand. It was one of those veiny ones, you know – the ones with the large mushroom head on it, about 7” long and 4” in diameter. It felt like it had a battery inside it, but I couldn’t see an on/off switch.
“No. I want you to put it inside you, then put on the pants.”
Ooooooh kayyyyy.
The pants in question still remained in the box, and at first glance I thought they were red leather, but upon removing them, found them to be latex instead.


“You might want to put some baby powder on first” said the voice.
Following his commands, I lubed up the dildo with my best Cherry Popper imitation, and slid it gently into my pussy. Hmmm. Feels pretty good.
After kicking off my slut pumps next came the baby powder, then the red rubber pants. They were full-length pants, and I guess the size doesn’t matter, because they’re designed to fit like a glove, which they did. Hmmmm. Kinky.
“Now get up on the sofa and feel yourself as you dance”. Soft jazz began to play from hidden speakers in the still darkened room.
Again following instructions like the good little cum slut that I am, I wobbled up on the sofa and began to dance my best shimmy in the middle of the erstwhile spotlight while feeling my breast to and fro, back and forth, paying special attention to my hardening nipples and areolas. Feeling a bead of sweat roll down the back of my neck, I moved to intercept it so I could rub it slowly around the tip of my nips to give them that special glow.
“Very nice, but I think you’ should explore further” said my director.
Having never been in rubber pants that clung to me so tightly before, his wish was my command and so I began to use the music to my advantage in order to stroke myself through the latex.
Did I mention that I was getting quite turned off by this time? No? Well I was.
Did I mention that all that dancing and gyration moved the dildo in my cunt back and forth like a train going across a rough patch of track? No? Well it did.
Faster and faster my hands traveled up and down my body, touching here, exploring there. Latex, skin, breast, swirl, turn, tuck, elbow, breast, butt, thrusting pelvis outwards then back and forth, soft smooth, oh my god I’m so turned on just thinking back to it all now. My eyes closed now as I found myself moving closer and closer to orgasm.
It was all of it – the heat, the dildo rubbing on my clit, the latex pants, the sofa in a darkened room, the mysterious stranger ordering me around like a chess pawn, the secrecy of it. It was all building towards the surface, much like the music that had morphed from a jazzy blues to a more trance-like drone. Swirling, twirling faster and faster, my hair whipping to and fro as I swung it down between my legs towards my butt.
Droning onwards and whipped into a frenzy, I didn’t realize that I had begun to moan and squeal with each passing thrust, my head and hair whipping wildly as the feeling of clitoral ecstasy swept over me.
“You can get off the couch it you’d like,” said Mr. Mystery. I complied, wanting to get a better grip on my orgasm as it were, and ended up bent over the arm of the sofa thrusting my pelvis and kegling so the dildo acted as a live snake inside me.
Unable to hold my orgasm back any more and with one mighty push and scream, I drove my groin into the armrest as hard as I could and was treated to a shuddering explosion of colors and feeling in my body and mind.
It was then that I felt it: a pulsing in the dildo. Perhaps it really did have a hidden switch to turn on the vibrator inside, but this was different.
Racing thoughts flew through my head as the dildo tingled, and suddenly I felt it swell inside me as if it were a real penis. Goo. Sticky man goo. That’s what it is! Mystery man had pressed a button on what looked like a remote control and the dildo obeyed his command as well. Damn! This guys gets everything done for him!
I wasn’t imagining it, but my orgasmic trembling began to slow as did the music. Panting from the excitement and draped over the sofa arm, it was then that I notice the feeling of what I thought was warm spunk running down the inside of my leg, obviously from MM’s toy still deep inside me.
Without noticing him, Mr. Mystery had moved over beside me to whisper in my ear. There was something vaguely familiar in this man’s voice, some accent.

“Very nice, verrrrry nice. Tell 'Scorecard' and 'Sheepskin' that 'Gladiola' gives his approval, eh? But we’ll just keep this little fun time between us. Just us.”
Just us.

Shit! I just figured out after all this time who 'Gladiola' was! It was..

(Tape ends abruptly)

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

CBW #66 Happy New Year

As promised I'm starting back up my CBW's.

A while ago I had the honor of receiving a submission from the Pagan and the Pervert.
I'm finally giving him the attention he's due. Of course it's satisfying my 'pop the cock' fetish, but it's different with a head on view.
So the Pervert looks as though he's diving in head first.

CBW #56 - But I Need More !

I held off on posting this fine specimen as long as I could, but it was submitted over a month ago and I couldn't hold back any longer.
Chuck did a superior job because of how well he understood my fetish. I could easily take a long slurp from those tight balls to the tip.
My problem guys is that this the last submission I recieved.
I know I can find examples out there on the web, but I really enjoy seeing my readers at their best.
Read below for what I'd like to see. If it sound good to you, email me (it's on my profile page) and show yourself off.
Show Dirty Debbie what you've got.
I don't care about size or whether you're shaved, or anything other physical feature.
What makes me wet is the site of a cock popping out of the confines of pants or shorts and ready for fun. Chuck's picture is a perfect example, but you can be creative.
I look forward to staring down your one-eyed monster....yummy!

CBW #54

Too bad Calvin Klein doesn't advertise like this submission for my CBW.
For me, there's nothing like a cock at attention right out of those shorts. Too bad that's not me on the computer screen, but maybe next time.

By the way guys, this is the second to the last submission I have in my inbox. I'd like to have some more from my readers. It's even better if you satisfy my cock fetish: your hard cock popping out of your pants or shorts. My email is on my profile page. So don't be shy guys.
I may be on sabbatical, but I'm not dead.

CBW #53

This cock is a fantastic submission on a couple of levels:
1. He is satisfying my fetish by having the picture of his cock out of his pants.
2. That cock has such a bend to it that it looks like it's sniffing out pussy.
3. He was kind enough to say in his email "I thought you might enjoy these - after all, you did this to me! Hopefully you'll notice that I have a leaky tiki"

TTT #2

I thought this picture did a wonderful job of showing how delicious tits can be.
To me it looks like a perfect flesh dessert. I'd like to taste that cherry on top, yummy!

Terrific Tittie Tuesday (TTT) - #1

I have started a new feature in honor of CJ's love of tits and nipples.
Every Tuesday I'll have an artfully done picture of that special piece of the female anatomy, the universal fetish.
I think I'll call this one Chained Delight