Is dirty sex overrated? How Dirty have you had it? Do people really want it?

For this discussion, we will define “dirty” as follows: Sexual activity that you probably wouldn’t tell your best friend about – and would give your mother or monsignor a heart attack.

Not to be confused with “naughty” which is: Activity you should not be doing even if it is as simple as holding hands or kissing.

Do you prefer “dirty,” or “naughty?” maybe neither? or, both have their time and place?


Personally, I’ve done more exploration of the “naughty,” and wonder if this is normally the case, or if a lot of people do, or like it dirty?

Actually, dirty comes in handy for masturbating, does it for you? There are some ideas that turn me on in theory – that I am not sure would be so appetizing in reality.

So what is the dirty that I have done? I have had anal sex; but, most people have so perhaps it isn’t so dirty?

I don’t like to talk dirty, usually, but have enjoyed hearing dirty be spoken to me. Okay, I actually like it a lot – when a girl talks dirty – especially when she’s not someone you’d expect to hear such talk from.

Here’s something dirty that I share in my soon to be published volume II of the Sinner Saint Diary. My nineteen year old roommate rim jobbed our ten years older, female landlord. Well, not really rimmed, more like licked and then penetrated while I spread  the older girl’s cheeks.

For those within whom the question has been burning: Yes, it is possible for a woman to have an orgasm, even two, from having her ass tongue-ravaged by a stunning nineteen year old.

That’s about as dirty as it gets with me – I tend more towards the “naughty.”

And you? are you Naughty or Dirty?

or Just no Fun?

Joking, we love you if your pure and wholesome.

Let’s hear the dirty things people are thinking and doing – here’s an anonymous survey –

Privacy note – all responses will be included on this post – anonymously. If you wish to be completely anonymous and not have me know who posted, feel free to leave the name field blank.

All fields are optional – answer what you want. Thank you.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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A Weekend in the Life Part 6: But First a fight

Wait – the story started here with…

Part one: One weekend in my life as a college sophomore.

and then it continued on to …

Part Two: Weekend in the life: wet lips, hard parts, loud coming, blond bush,

and …

Part Three: Anal and More Anal

and …

Part Four: Weekend in the life: Sheryl comes and goes, stage is set

and …

Part Five: Weekend in the life: There is Calm Before the Debauchery.

and then here to …

Part Six

In my cleverness, I figured the occasion an opportunity to sneak some questionable behavior for cheap. I was already feeling sick with guilt from the Sheryl escapade, whatever I might do to feel guilty about for at least the next twenty four hours, would be added to the price I was going to be paying anyway. (wow, perhaps I was brilliant.)

I mainly wanted anything that could distract me from the self loathing. When I drank, in addition to the hangover, I always had the “guilts” the next day. Even when I didn’t do anything very wrong (not likely). At that moment after Sheryl Left, I had the usual guilts for my overindulgence the night before, I had the Sheryl stunt  compounding upon things.

As a matter of surviving my state of mind, I had to engage in something profoundly distracting. The first distraction to come was a big one – but not the sort I was hoping for. My two asshole roommates returned. My actual roommate still hadn’t returned from his girlfriend’s. He was cool and became a good friend; The two that shared the other room were nothing like us – and weren’t fond of us. They were Juniors – had a year on us, and were more down to  business, my roommate and I were more interested to learn about ourselves – or, about women and indulgences The dick roommates are a whole other story – not a very sexy one like this would be.

Just for context, picture the most anally retentive person you know; now, image they were ridiculously arrogant and smug. I was a bit cocky too, but in a very different way. While i may have had confidence in myself, the roommates arrogance involved looking down on everyone.

They couldn’t have paired us all better – my roommate and I were wild and rule breaking free spirits who got along with most everybody – usually too busy judging ourselves to pass judgement upon our school mates.

The other two roommates didn’t hang out with anyone in the complex – except for my neighbor friend Natalia and her roommate. About once a week for a month or two – they’d been having the girls over for a formal, sit down meal. My roommate and I were never invited – we’d often be waiting for Natalia to be done with the torture and come play with us.

The most arrogant and rigid of the two confronted me as I was getting a drink from the fridge. Both of them did – but it was just “Branton” the arrogant douche who did the talking. It wasn’t much of a discussion. I was going to apologize about the morning, but he saved me the trouble – he wanted to bitch and threaten me. He said something about no more having people over after (whatever time) and before (whatever time). I didn’t take note – wasn’t any chance in hell I’d have some douche roommate dictate my behavior or lay down some curfew. I would have listened to his concerns and probably even made some concessions; was never my intention to be inconsiderate.

Branton was worked up. After he laid down his rules for me, as soon as he paused for a breath, I calmly responded, how about you go fuck yourself, I live here, I’d do what I please. I thought it was a reasonable response to such threatening demands. Turns out it triggered him a bit. He charged right at me and plowed me into the refrigerator. Before I”d even decided my next move, his cuck buddy roommate was pulling him off and getting between us.

It was sort of funny actually. Branton pointed his finger and yelled about how he was going to kill me and throw me through a wall. Amazing how strong his small buddy was – keeping this larger, enraged guy from getting to me. I was grateful for it – the issue hardly ranked as something worth fighting for. There’s very few things I will fight for – being offended isn’t one of them. I’d only fought three times since grade school. As hot headed as Branton was, I think it would have ended bad for him as it had for the others I’d’ fought  – he must have thought so too or he’d have gotten around his small friend.

A full on fight was diverted for the time being, but now that the issue was in play, further confrontation was inevitable. I wasn’t going to live another night with the asshole – some maniac who attacks me. He wasn’t worth fighting – it was an easy decision to leave. I left the apartment with my keys – knowing I had to stay away for the rest of the weekend, or fight Branton.

I went straight to the university housing office, told them my roommate attacked me, and needed to be rehoused. They hopped right on it – apparently getting attacked by enraged roommates was high on the list of acceptable reasons to request housing reassignment. They told me to check back in a few hours and they’d find me some options.

Yes, you are right – not very sexy this talk about angry roommates and fighting; it’s a big part of everything that happened that weekend – perhaps not great to read about and not much fun to write about, but the contrast and context is will will hopefully make the next part of this story sing.

We shouldn’t give up on this story just yet, because here’s where the story of the weekend really begins. The darker moments of the weekend were behind me, and it didn’t take an hour before the story changes dramatically.

I did say at the end of the last part, that the next post would be very crazy and hot. The hot part I promised starts with the next part of the story, my word on it.