Wednesday, February 24, 2010


That word ... just sitting there alone in all caps seems so ... harsh and ugly. What is a slut? A bad thing? A good thing? Is it shameful to enjoy sex? To seek it out? To have it with others? Should a woman live her life avoiding that title?

Those questions have very obvious answers to me. But then again, even I use the word in more than one way. I call myself "The Secretive Slut" in a teasing sex-positive way. I imply that I present an innocent face to the world, but in private I am a sex fiend. I like it, and yet I have to ask myself why even I feel compelled to hide the extent of my sluttishness from the world. Why, when glimpsing the fake-titted bleach blonde bimbos in Hollywood do I quietly call them a "slut" with a negative intent? How does that differ from what I am? Why has this word become so convoluted?

I think we need to devise a way to differentiate the two ... the good slut from the bad slut. The slut it's fun to be, and the slut you hope you never are. I call myself a slut because I have a raging libido. I can have sex multiple times a day and not be sated. I'm ready to go anytime and all the time. I'm happy to let you wake me up for it. I love sucking cock. I love being fucked. And I'm the kind of girl who will quietly go out of her way to take care of this need when stuck in "single mode." Just like my friend whom I'm about to mention.

Three of our friends share a house. Two of the roommate are guys and one is a girl. The girl is one of my dearest friends on earth. The guys are very close with Cane. One (we'll call him Z) has a crush on my girlfriend ... or should I say "had" a crush. Till he heard her have sex two nights in a row (the walls are thin) ... with two different men. He was disgusted and revolted by the idea that she was sleeping with several men (who don't know about each other). He was incensed that she was not even embarrassed in front of her housemates by it. She hadn't mentioned these hookups to me ... and probably because she knows the prevailing attitudes of the world toward women who have a lot of sex with random partners. Z sheepishly admitted the unfairness of his sentiments, but also confessed he couldn't help it. His crush has vanished ... all he sees when he looks at her is a "slut."

I pointed out that while I am not sure why she hadn't wanted to be a little more clandestine in her hooking up, the fact that she had done what she had done only put her in the ranks of most guys I know (Z included--he has some stories). I think most men (even if it was only a brief youthful period) have experienced fucking lots of women who were unaware of one another. I've heard countless war stories about dudes who got head in a bar bathroom from one "bar slut" only to leave with a different girl, have sex with her ... and then go out on a date the next night and fuck that girl, too. And don't forget how many men have at one point or another cheated on a girlfriend--that means sex with more than one person at a time. Even nice guys don't always see anything wrong with dating a lot of people at once and having sex with all of them (individually). But men get high fives for such behavior. People think it's funny when a dude is managing to juggle a lot of tail at once. Women get branded a "SLUT"--and not in a sexy fun sort of way.

But we women are just as guilty of having these attitudes. I'm disgusted sometimes by male friend's really bawdy tales ... and yet at the same time, I don't find it half as revolting as knowing some girl who falls in bed with a stranger every time she has a little too much to drink. I'm just as guilty of having a double standard as my male counterparts. Women should in essence be allowed to openly enjoy and seek sex--just like men do. If I enjoy sex and love it ... I can call myself a slut. If you enjoy sex and love it ... you can call yourself a slut. If I'm being fucked by Cane, he can call me a slut. But somehow any other use just carries a negative connotation.

Do I think my friend is a negative kind of slut? No. Do I think she is entitled as a single woman to date who she wants and have sex when she wants? Absolutely. Is she making foolish decisions at the moment? Probably. But not because she's tarnishing her reputation with her housemates. It's because I know her and I know what she really wants and all this hooking up is really more about her need for a relationship than a desire to have crazy sex. She's in the process of trying to make several shoes fit in hopes of one sticking. Sex isn't the smartest way to accomplish that. But she has every right to get laid, and as frequently as she would like. I'm of the mind that dating/sleeping with multiple people at once isn't kind or smart--unless you have told everyone about each other. She isn't telling her dates about one another, so these guys are likely assuming more is at play in terms of relationship. Someone could get hurt ... or an STD. But that is the only thing in this situation I frown upon. Her having sex two nights in a row with two different men ... well, I just don't think that makes her some horrible slut as opposed to guys who would happily do the same thing. If I'm totally honest, I'll admit that I've given a BJ to one guy one day ... and turned around and slept with another the next. These things happen. To fuck is human.

Z sees the double standard. He knows it isn't fair, either. He just can't mentally get past his own idea of her ... she fell off the pedestal in his mind and he can't do anything about it. But the truth is that he's probably revolted not by the fact that she was behaving like a slut, but that she wasn't being a slut WITH HIM. Hooking up with your housemate isn't necessarily smart, but he wouldn't have frowned upon that occurring. Once again, double standard. The worst kind of slut is not to be slandered, rather, pitied instead. She sleeps with men seeking affirmation because she has zero self worth. She isn't seeking the pleasure of sex ... she's seeking validation. Sex doesn't validate, it just stimulates. Therefore, this is a tragic and misguided reason to be a slut. Men seldom stick with a girl with no confidence or value in herself ... so such women often drift partner to partner on and on. Pity those sluts. They are the slut you don't want to be.

The other night, Cane had a lot to drink. He was having a good old time. Several of our friends were far too drunk to drive, so they crashed in our living room while we went to bed. To my surprise, Cane was raging horny. He was all over me with everyone right outside our bedroom. I'm loud. He shocked me by holding me down, ripping my legs open and ramming his fingers up inside of me. Every time I gasped he would push his elbow into my neck and whisper "Don't you fucking make a sound. You fucking slut. You love this don't you?" Wow. He rarely brings out the dirty talk and I LOVED it. I loved being called a slut. I loved being treated roughly. He bit my lips so hard I've got cuts on them. I was dripping into his hand and he surprised me by shoving his fingers into my mouth and making me taste myself. "You're a good little slut aren't you? You enjoy tasting yourself on me." Um, YES! When he joined me in tasting it I think I came. I'm not sure. I was in a state of bliss. This was the GOOD slut. The kind you would happily be called over and over. More please.

Too much is wrapped up in this four-letter word. Too many pre-conceived notions and ideas about what it means and how it is defined. No woman, open with her sex life and sexuality, is free from it's brand and negative connotations. So I suppose I remain a slut of the secretive kind ... until the day being open about it doesn't bring unfair scrutiny.

All images Copyright: The Secretive Slut, 2010

Saturday, February 20, 2010

Music to Fuck By

by Jez
Music is a mood setter. Life is always more exciting with a good soundtrack. When looking at homemade porn I'm always a little giggly when a couple is fucking while something as poppy and UN-sexy as Ricky Martin or Beyonce are belting in the background. Then again, to each his own. But I do believe I have excellent taste when it comes to music worth fucking to ... and Cane and I have definitely enjoyed more than one roll in the hay to our own personal favorites. So, below find our own recommendations for the "Ultimate Sex Playlist"---and feel free to comment with recommendations of your own.

1. ANYTHING BY PORTISHEAD. Ok, if forced to pick a track try "Glory Box."

2. "Hanging on a Curtain" by Morphine

3. "Your Joy is My Low" by IAMX

4. "Paradise Circus" by Massive Attack

5. "A Rapture" by Stereo Alchemy

6. "Lovely Head" by Goldfrapp

7. "I'll Carry You" by Halou

8. "The Fuel" by the Sneaker Pimps

9. "Pretty When You Cry" Vast

10. "Plague Burial" Teargas and Plateglass

12. "The Body is a Stairway of Skin" Over the Rhine

13. Something's Burning" 12 Rounds

14. "Lovesong" by Snake River Conspiracy (ridiculous name ... but trust us)

Friday, February 19, 2010

Pic-Fridays X

Jez Says: I have a weakness when it comes to panties left on during intimate moments. No idea why. Cane has zero interest in lingerie--rather, he likes a girl stark naked. But I still love pretty underwear ... and seeing these images of them with hands reaching into them or roughly tugging at them turns me on in such a fierce way. I go crazy in moments of passion when the urge to fuck is so intense that there is no time to even remove them. Ask Cane about how I react when he just rips them to the side and has his way with me while they remain on my body. It's a bizarre little turn-on of mine that even I don't fully understand. These pictures summon up that feeling for me in both a sweet (picture one) and aggressive (picture two) way.

Cane Says: Decided to change things up from the usual hetro and/or lesbian-friendly to some dude-on-dude action. Again, I'm going to save my general rant about the hypocrisy of the non-vanilla community shunning bi/gay dudes for proper entry. So for now, I submit this scorching hot portrait of bondage and masculinity. The stark black and white, the motion-blur, the obscure faces contribute to the power this picture emits; the thick, throbbing cock of the bound, seized and teased by his captor stirs inside of my a submissive side rarely seen (Jez/strap-on action withstanding).

Wednesday, February 17, 2010

Web-Vid Wednesdays: A Call for PORN!

Merry Web-Vid Wednesday dear readers:
Porn is time consuming. I'm assuming most of you have done your own searches from time to time. If so, then you recognize the vast and endless rabbit hole one winds up falling into. You can literally spend HOURS rabbit-trailing into endless realms of web-clips. And the worst part? You still might not find what you are looking for.

Anyone who has followed this blog for long knows that I (Jez) tend to be a bit of a porn snob. I like porn to feel real, like I'm a fly on the wall of something actually happening. I HATE pretense (especially because it's handled so badly and cheaply in most porn). I admit my standards can be a bit ridiculous. But occasionally you do find those lovely little gems ... relatively attractive people engaged in intimate, hardcore or just sexy moments. Cane is not as demanding as I am, but even he admits that there is a lot of really bad porn out there. I just can't get turned on by a 35 year old porn star with fake tits pretending to be a 17 year old birthday girl preparing to lose her virginity. I just can't. I CAN laugh my ass off, however, every time she chirps in a baby voice "Oooooh, baby, this is the best birthday present ever!" while looking at some juice-head's dick.

So instead of trying to find things that appeal to just us ... let's try something new. This entry is a call for submissions from you readers. Come on now ... I'm willing to bet a lot of you have favorite and well loved clips bookmarked or hidden on your hard drives. Share it with us! Tell us why you like it, even if it's just one aspect of it (because we all have to make concessions when it comes to free porn). We'll give the clip our own review and post it here. I think it's interesting to see the different things that appeal to different people and honestly it might start a good dialogue on a variety of subjects. So send us things you like and have found out there in the free porn universe.

Please email us; our email address is in our profile. I'd post it right here, but "spider-bots" will find it, then we'll start getting spammed relentlessly. Or, you can use the formspring box in the side-bar and submit anonymously.

....Because good porn should be shared. xo

Sunday, February 14, 2010

My Horny Valentine

Well readers, it is time for me to admit that I do like "Valentines Day." Some tout it as a commercial cash-in on consumer's need for affirmation. Others simply look to it as a source of validation, an annoying obligation to their spouse or lover ... or even angrily view it as a stupid holiday that presumes it's not important to express love to a lover every other day. I even have girlfriends who staunchly refuse to acknowledge it--disgusted by a day that reminds them of their solitude. I always liked it--even when I was single. I am of the mind that any day that reminds us to reflect on the gift of romance (or even the absence of it) is a good one. I love to be challenged to be introspective and self-examine. I love a good excuse to heap extra doses of romantic goo all over Cane. I love LOVE.

This is a sex blog--and while (as Woody Allen so delightfully said) "Sex without love is an empty experience, but as far as empty experiences go, it's the best"--I have to say that I have always found that sex without love is never as precious or meaningful as the sex I have within the confines of it. Today I am grateful for Cane--for a man who truly loves me. He fucks me silly. Treats me like a dirty whore in bed. But outside of it, he brings me cupcakes when I have a bad day. He cooks for me when I'm sick. He holds me when I cry over some of the more painful experiences in life. He doesn't yell "GROSS!" when I am puffy and without makeup. He makes me laugh when I am cranky. He has been willing to grow and become more of a Man for me--letting go of his single wild-boy ways. His company outside of the bedroom is just as wonderful as in it--he makes me laugh and enjoys the same nerdy things that I do. I can't imagine my world without him. I love him in ways that words only serve to cheapen. I love him unconditionally.

So today I reflect on love. There are two kinds of love in this world. Selfish love and unconditional love. Selfish love is far more common than unconditional love. Most of us don't naturally grow up able to love unconditionally. It's a kind of love that has to be striven for ... worked for ... grown into.

Selfish love is the kind that seeks its own validation and edification. Those who practice it will choose to enforce their own ideals in a relationship ... to push their partner to say what they need/want to hear ... they will ignore or try to alter that which scares/disagrees with their own desires ... they will require that their lover conform to their own standards and balance is always off when things don't measure up to their expectations. Selfish love is a fantasy love. You have to live in non-reality and you prefer to survive on half-truths. You deny your partner the ability to speak freely. You force your partner to hide parts of themselves. You actually build a wall of lies between you over time ... one which you happily built for your own security, but then become resentful of.

Unconditional love is the kind that seeks the chance to pour itself in full completely into another vessel. It longs to know all there is know of the other person. It craves truth and disclosure because these things allow the love to be fully unconditional--the lover is like a book that must be read in full over and over--cherished like a treasure. It suffers at the idea that the other would need to hide any part of themselves like a scholar who grieves the absence of an answer to an essential formula. It wants to love both the beauty and the flaws. The pure and the profane. It longs to merge in full in such a way that it no longer is identifiable as an individual ... but instead becomes like a tributary that flows into it's lover ... helping it become the mighty river or ocean that he/she knows it can be.

So today I celebrate the beauty of loving someone the way I do Cane--and the way he loves me. This is why we are able to communicate the way we do--the reason we are able to have this blog. May all of you be so fortunate. Happy Valentines Day ... may you love someone the way you wish to be loved in return.

Saturday, February 13, 2010

Her: V

My V for the eve of Valentine's.

All images copyright: The Secretive Slut, 2010

Friday, February 12, 2010

Pic-Fridays VIIII

Every Friday, we present choice-cuts of photo-erotica, as discovered in the dark depths of the abyss that is the internet.

Jez says: It's Valentine's Day week so I'm not going to apologize for my somewhat sappy selection. I think this photo is pretttttttty. I love the way she is kissing him. It's obviously hot that they are both naked. There is something sensual about the juxtaposition of his tattoos and hairy legs against her smooth silky skin. But the best thing about this image is the way their bodies fit together. It looks to me like they were perfectly made to fit against each other in this way. There have been many times while straddling Cane, bent forward with my head on his chest or locked in a kiss where I've mused (both out loud and to myself) that our bodies are like puzzle pieces that fit together perfectly. I love the way that notion feels physically--it's both sexy and sweet.

Cane says: Indeed it is Valentine's Day... but this day of love is not limited to traditional couples only. So, that's why I've chosen this picture of these two people-- who just so happen to be both female-- in the throws of love and intimacy. Yes, I want to show my support and recognize that love knows no gender, color, or sexual orientation. Yup. That's the only reason I'd post this picture... and NOT because it has oiled up lesbians. Pffft, please people... I totally have more integrity than to just post two lesbians, naked and making out, for exploitative means. How dare you.

Thursday, February 11, 2010

A cherished photo ...

With Valentine's Day right around the corner I thought I'd share with you a treasure of mine. It's not expensive. It's not as salacious as most might hope for ... and it's not even that unique in terms of what it is and how it's composed. But what makes it precious is that it is MINE and was made for ME and depicts something I adore.

Cane sent me a series of photos when we first started seeing each other a number of years back. This is the tamest one (I will never share the others--those are all mine). I love the image because it reminds me of how crazy I was about this man I was just getting to know. I love remembering how insane I felt because it was being sent to me across country during the holidays when we couldn't be together. I remember touching myself right after I received it. I remember thinking that I couldn't be any more attracted to a human being than I was to this man.

I was so wrong about that. He hasn't sent me a naughty cell phone photo in a long time. We live together and we know each other inside & out. His country has been completely discovered. I know the language. The mystery is gone in a conventional sense. And I love him more than ever. I love his heart, mind & soul even more than I love his body.

But ohhhhh how I love that body. My treasured cell phone picture is a good reminder of that.

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

Web-Vid Wednesday VIIII

This week’s selection: A man’s hot-wife is Hot-Wife’d out to a stud who pleasures her for her hubby’s viewing pleasure.

CLICK HERE (but come back!)

Jez Says:
I chose the video this week ... mostly because Cane and I had a conversation prior about his hotwife/cuckold blend of fantasies. This led to me looking up videos of such scenarios out of curiosity. I love Cane. I love turning him on. Since this turns him on, I want to understand it more. Simple enough, right?

I chose this one because the husband is actually there--and I liked the fact that they cut to an interview with the couple a few times. It made the idea that this was a first time experience for the two feel more believable. You could hear the husband moaning and responding to what is being done to his wife as well. And she kept talking to him and asking him how he liked what was going on. This particular clip was the best example of what Cane has described to me--the turn on of watching your wife/girlfriend get pleasured by someone else, while she tells you how amazing it feels and encourages you to stroke yourself, etc. The way the husband reacts ... well, I just wish there was video of the pounding he gave her later.

I also chose it for a personally amusing reason. Cane told me last week that he knows I love it from behind, but our bed tends to make it difficult to really pound hard. He laughingly suggested that he wear his gym shoes pound me on the couch, using the shoes to get better traction on the floor. We both giggled hard at the idea of him naked in his running shoes. The stud in this video is TOTALLY wearing running shoes (while naked) as he pounds the wife from behind. I absolutely started giggling when I noticed it.

Cane Says: Really delving into this fantasy is probably better suited for a separate article, but the long-short of it is, yes-- I truly desire to see Jez get fucked by another man.... and this video is an absolutely perfect example of what I’m talking about. Well, not so much the totally gross juiced-up, overly-geled, orange-skinned douche with a soul-patch; nor the florescent-lit room with the cheap leather couch. But talent and backdrop nonwithstanding, watching Jez be pleasured from the point of view of an observer, topped with the should-be reverent fact that I’M supposed to be the only one doing such carnal things with/to her... well, just the thought of that will get me hard no matter where I am, what I’m doing, or what time it is.

I know it sounds a little twisted, but I’m so touched that Jez is making the effort to research and to try to understand the appeal cuckolding and hot-wife’ing holds to some people, myself included. It’s something that she didn’t really understand and was very unsure of from a moral standpoint... but after having a LONG conversation where I broke down each fetish to their (for lack of a better word) “psychological” roots, she began to understand what I find so very hot about it and why I long to see a big dick plunge into her, while I sit back and watch.

As far as the video goes... yeah,’s not very good. But it’s
the scenario... putting myself in the place of the husband, Jez in the place of dye-job McGross-Boobs, and some amazingly gorgeous man in the place of the Jersey Shore reject, that I truly get off on this vid. However, like Jez mentioned, I do like the fact that they interview the couple; it makes you connect to the scenario so much more than if it was just set-up with a line or two, then went straight to fucking. Who thought a porn would ever have character integrity?!

Send Neuds Pleaz ...

Jez here ... just a quick observation. The internet is an amusing place. If you want to see a dog that is best friends with an elephant a quick google search will give you exactly that. If you've ever wondered what a hermaphrodite's genitals look like--well, google will give you great examples. Not sure if the rash you have is poison ivy? Wondering if the spider you found in your closet is a deadly black widow? Google, google GOOGLE. Images and websites abound for about any need, desire or query you might ever have.

Which leads me to what I find so amusing and annoying. Who are the people who come to a blog like this and submit requests via email & formspring along the lines of "send neuds pleaz" or "wud you look at my dick?" Aside from the lack of spelling or grammatical skills, what is truly appalling is the lack of any attempt at communicating anything beyond a basic demand/request. You say nothing complimentary. You don't even TRY to butter me up or connect with me. You aren't even TRYING at all.

If you want to see nude pictures, our blog has quite a few and will likely produce many, many more with time. If your need exceeds our current offering, well ... go google up some nudes. I assure you there are a gazillion out there. If you want someone to look at your appendange, then start a blog and post pictures of it. Soliciting me on this blog isn't really the best way to meet your exhibitionist needs. I'm too busy laughing at bad spelling and making fun of moronic messages to respond to them.

That said, if you take the time to compose an actual message ... say something of substance ... or at least craft a well written question that sounds like more than some depraved porn addict demanding "pussy" ... you will more than likely get a good reply. Cane and I are nice people. We love to interact with you. But we do have standards (though we have been known to forgive bad spelling if the message is awesome).

As always ... you can email (use the link on our profile page) or hit us up anonymously through our formspring. But make it worth our while. The Secretive Slut is a privilege, not a right.

Monday, February 8, 2010

Q/A Part 1

Where do you live?
Milky-Way galaxy. Right next to Andromeda.

How old are you two?
Old enough to legally post naked pictures of ourselves; young enough to still be vain about our body image. Oh so vain.

What are you alter-egos?
We both have big corporate jobs. That said, we'd get so fired if they found out our bits and pieces have been posted on the internet. So, while you won't see either of our faces anytime soon, I’m sure you're coming to our blog to see “other parts”. But we’re preeeeeeetty.

Are you really a whore?
I do this shit for free.

Are you swingers?
While we whole-heartedly embrace our swinger brethren (they have some of the best blogs), we are not currently active in “The Lifestyle”, as it is generally defined. However, we would LOVE to get into MGS (monogamous group sex) with one or many couples. Also, Jezebel has a fierce exhibition streak, and is on an ever-quest for the right venue for us (she's such a snob).

As for Cane's fantasies becoming reality, as well as other carnal things that dwell in the shadows of our bedroom... loyal readers, keep reading.

Have a question or comment? Feel free to use the Formspring box in the side-panel, or you can drop us an email anytime (email address found in our profile). And there are such things as dumb questions, so please don’t be an idiot.

All images copyright: The Secretive Slut, 2010

The Jez Files: The Fireman

Cane enjoys my regaling him with tales of my past exploits. I'm always obliged to give him what he wants (because he then gives me what I want!). So, dear readers, today I'm going to tell you about one of his favorites ... the Fireman. Please feel free to insert all obvious jokes about hoses, etc, here. Har, har.

We've all seen the episode of "Sex and the City" where Samantha sets out to have her fantasy fulfilled of getting it on with a fireman. Personally, I've never been one to get off on vocation scenarios. The job doesn't turn me on. The "outfit" doesn't turn me on (I'm not a uniform fetishist by any means). But I suppose it's safe to assume that most men that pursue that particular profession are very physically masculine ... the job does demand a masculine edge, right? (Before anyone grows offended and thinks I am implying that women don't make good firefighters, just relax. I'm talking about archetypes here.)

I was going through a period of frustration--recently having broken up with a musician. Musicians are not the most masculine men in my book. Even when physically ripped they are such emotional creatures. They spend a lot of time looking in the mirror or wrestling with self-loathing ... or both at once. You can talk philosophy, religion, art and culture with them. They'll write you songs about how you make them feel. They feel. Deeply. Sometimes it is inspiring ... sometimes it's too much. And after the allure wears off you will occasionally find that your musician lover has managed to force you on to their own emotionally manic roller coaster. Where's the virile man who can build things with his hands and throw you over his shoulder? I'll tell you one thing ... he isn't sitting in a dark room writing a song about a girl that broke up with him when he was 17. Sheeesh.

So as you might infer, I was a bit over dating creative types. I wanted a cowboy ... someone who knew how to take care of himself ... and me. Someone who wasn't a crybaby. I think in my own bitter haze I was obsessed with dating men who I thought would never need prozac ... or wear jeans smaller than my own.

Enter the fireman. I met him on a fluke through a job. He was a few years younger than me ... and very handsome. He was of spanish descent and had golden skin ... dark wavy hair ... and rugged good looks. I had watched women throw themselves at him--and I proceeded to do what I usually do when attracted to someone. I ignored him.

I don't think he was used to being ignored. He began a campaign of seeking me out. Waiting at the coffee shop where he knew I'd get my morning coffee. Insisting on sitting with me and chatting. I was amused because he was so obvious ... there was no pretense about this man. He would beam at me and tell me how beautiful I looked, offer to lift heavy things for me, and always opened doors. I watched one afternoon as he jumped to the aid of a man having a heart attack. Turns out he was also trained as a paramedic. Hot. Upon returning to my table after the heroic deed was done, he blushed and insisted it was nothing. And I realized he didn't even KNOW how much more attractive the situation had made him.

I did the girl thing of telling myself he was too young. I enjoyed his attention and flattery and kept finding sly ways of avoiding going on an actual date with him. I forgot that being manly also meant having courage. He called me one night and essentially called me out. "You know I want to take you out." He might be young, but he was man enough to be direct. That deserved a chance in my book.

He was shy all evening. It was adorable seeing this big, muscular man peering sideways at me and grinning like a kid. His dimples were precious. But I liked him better silent. The truth is that we had very little in common and very little to talk about. He had insisted on cooking dinner for me at his apartment. Clever man. Makes it so much easier to get laid.

We ate and drank. A lot. The burden of conversation was entirely on me. But he was such an eager audience that it didn't bother me at the time. I could tell my artistic nature fascinated him--I was like some strange creature to him. He complimented me to the point that it almost became hilarious. Eventually we both realized how late it had become.

He leaned and kissed my cheek ... drifting to my ear to whisper "Please stay." It was the most interesting thing he had said all night.

His eyes were heavy from the alcohol. I leaned forward and kissed him deeply. He had successfully made me feel worshipped all evening ... my willpower was gone.

We made out like school kids on the couch. He joked that he would give me a hickey and when I laughed he took it as a challenge. We wrestled wildly as he pinned me and gave me a junior high sized suck-mark on my neck. I was laughing, but also turned on. He started kissing me hard and I kissed back. He ran his hands up and down the side of my body. I loved the way his large hands grabbed me, clenching on to my ass and upper thighs.

Suddenly, without warning, he stood up and picked me up off the couch in one move. Like a true fireman, he carried me up the stairs.

Once in his bedroom he placed me on his bed. He lay down on top of me and continued to kiss my neck. He kissed down to the space between my breasts and whispered against me "I've been lusting after you since day one. I think you are so perfect." What girl doesn't melt at a compliment like that? Well played, fireman, well played. My shirt came off in seconds. I ripped his off. I finally got to see the abs all the girls were oogling through his uniform t-shirt. They were lovely. But he didn't give me much time to admire him ... he was ripping my bra off and struggling to unbutton my jeans.

He trailed his fingers down into the top of my panties. He began to massage my clit gently. I heard him exhale deeply. I wondered what his cock was doing ... if it was growing in his boxers.

He slipped a finger in and I gasped. I struggled but he firmly held me down. "I'm not letting you get away" he laughed into my ear.

With that he slid down my panties and lowered his face to my pussy. The lights were on. He stared at it for a moment (long enough that I got self conscious--having thoughts like "Oh great. He must prefer completely bald"). He grinned up at me like a kid on Christmas. "I have to take a second and get a good look. I've been wanting this a long time." Whew ... I guess the situation down there met with approval.

He dove in with his tongue and I squealed. He didn't take his time and build momentum ... he just went at it. He lapped at me like a cat and then stiffened his tongue and used it to fuck my opening. I was screaming almost immediately. His roommate was wide awake by now.

It was too much and I begged him to stop. He resisted, but when I told him I needed his cock in my mouth he was off me in seconds. I pushed him onto his back and straddled him. His erection was already huge through his boxes. I slowly pulled them off to reveal a very healthy dick. Standing at full attention it must have been at least
8 and a half inches. His balls were tight and he lay there motionless ... I realized just a breath on him might send him over the edge. This would be fun.

I started with his balls ... lightly licking and nibbling. Swirled my tongue across his perineum. And then out of nowhere sucked the tip of his cock for a mere second. He gasped and tried to reach for me. I shoved his hands away and told him he wasn't allowed to touch me. He grinned and promised he'd try. I slowly took his entire cock into my mouth and pushed it far back into my throat. He moaned and cursed softly. I started slowly drifting up and down the length of his penis. When I would reach the head I would swirl my tongue on it for a moment before pushing his cock quickly back into the recesses of my throat. "FUCK!" he screamed.

I worked his dick for a while before I used my right hand to begin tickling his balls. He was writhing and moaning like a girl. This manly man. Occasionally I would have to push his arms forcibly away and back onto the bed. I was in control.

Suddenly he grabbed my face and took over. "I could have come 13 times by now. But I don't want to yet."

He flipped me over and onto my back. "I have to be inside of you." I was so wet at this point that I was hard pressed to disagree. I could still taste his precum as he positioned himself and pushed his way inside.

It hurt a little ... in a good way. He gasped again as he made it all the way in. I could tell he was fighting the urge to orgasm. He began thrusting ... going slow until his cock was 2/3rds in ... and then slamming into me with the last bit. I couldn't make a sound I was so overwhelmed. I realized he was gazing at me as he thrust and I felt shy. He leaned down and kissed me fervently. He whimpered against me. It felt amazing.

"I want you to do me from behind." I begged. I love being taken in that position. It feels so submissive.

He flipped me over and I found myself on all fours. I felt him gently navigating himself and demanded "GIVE IT TO ME HARD." In a flash he was pounding me. My cervix was taking a beating and I lost my breath as my entire chest exploded into tingles. He pounded away for several minutes while I screamed like a banshee. Then he proclaimed "Oh ... I'm going to come!"

I jerked away and said "No ... not yet." He looked shocked as I threw him back onto the bed and took his cock in my mouth yet again. I worked the shaft violently, echoing the rough thrusts of moments before. He made animal noises and bucked wildly while I gagged on his dick.

"Oh ... God ... Oh ... FUCK ... AHHHHHHHHHH." I ripped my head away just in time for his cum to shoot all over my chest. He wasn't expecting that. I wasn't expecting there to be so much of it. His eyes rolled up in the back of his head and I thought he had passed out.

After I cleaned myself off I lay down behind him--in a spoon. He murmured "That was a dream come true."

I whispered back teasing "What if you found out I used to be a dude?"

He replied "I'd still say that was the best fucking blow job I've ever gotten." The last thing I remember is laughing ... the rest was sleep.

Saturday, February 6, 2010

Her: Crest

Cane captured this rather lovely portrait of my ass, before he fucked it.

All images copyright: The Secretive Slut, 2010

Friday, February 5, 2010

Pic-Fridays VIII

Every Friday, we present choice-cuts of photo-erotica, as discovered in the dark depths of the abyss that is the internet.

Jez says: I like this picture's composition. The tones/lighting/color. It looks like it feels ... that lazy hazy time in bed with your lover when you are both touching one another ... before things get fully heated and wild. The slow build you start to feel from grasping one another's parts and feeling the other become.

Cane says: I definitely like this pictures for its depiction of wanton submission; it seems like the girl is being fed her daily dose of semen, only too hungry and eager for it, like a baby-bird chirping at the arrival of a meal from its mother. But actually what impresses me most are the technical aspects of the composition. In other words: This is just a cool-as-shit picture.

Thursday, February 4, 2010

Back In the Saddle

an ode to Reverse Cowgirl
by Jezebel
[enjoy these pics of me riding my favorite stud!]

There is something to be said for switching positions, trying something different or new ... or just changing up the routine in bed. But when it comes to giving Cane a sure-fire super-awesome orgasm, I always know what position is golden. Reverse Cowgirl.

Confession time: I'm one of those girls who didn't enjoy being on top in her early days. It was a combination of insecurity (every girl imagines herself flapping and jiggling awkwardly while trying to balance and not break some hapless guy's dick) and just not comprehending the power one has when on top. Since men are not all the same, I'd met some who wanted it fast and furious and others who acted like their cock was going to shatter if I didn't move in very specific controlled ways. Sure, I occasionally did it when asked, but it was never my favorite. Plus my hip does this really weird popping thing. Seriously ... it sounds like I'm a geriatric with a need for hip replacement. "Oh yeah ... feels so good (*pop*) ... Ohhhhh (*click*) ... " Decidedly not sexy in a 22 year old's mind. But because I am awesome, no guy ever KNEW about my paranoia. I was smart enough to act all into it ... but you never heard me ASKING to be on top.

Then somewhere along the way age, maturity and a sense of sexual confidence kick in. Who cares if my hip clicks sometimes? Sure my boobs look weird due to gravity's pull ... but who gives a damn?! This feeeeeeeeeeeels good. When I move just right there are thrusts that hit deep parts of me that I had no idea existed. And the exhibitionist in me loves seeing Cane laying there, all prone and vulnerable watching me ride him into the orgasm land.

So I got over my aversion to being on top. And that is when I discovered something truly fantastic. Reverse Cowgirl, a position I had long heard revered by other women that I had simply tried half-heartedly but not really paid attention to ... was FUCKING AMAZING. Holy hell. I don't know that it's possible to explain fully what makes the position so mind-blowing. I think it encompasses several things: namely that in this position the cock hits at a totally unique angle inside, I get off knowing Cane is getting an eye-full of what he loves most (ass), Cane gets off staring at his beloved rear-view (which means he gets deliciously carried away and delivers slaps and pinches that show he's excited which in turn makes me MORE excited), I get to pay more attention to his balls while fucking him, and the orgasm that Cane has from this position is like the 9th wonder of the world. His orgasm is so intense and so VOCAL that it often ushers my orgasm into happening. I cannot stress how amazing it is to hear the man beneath your legs gasping, shuddering and moaning like that. I instantly feel like some sort of sex goddess--"Yeah. I did that."

And now that I'm aware and secure enough not to be shy about it, it's fun to try leaning and adjusting my torso to have different effects on the angle his cock hits me at. The noises he makes are good indicators of what feels the best. It's unbelievably strange and hot to feel him hitting my stomach. MY STOMACH. How the heck is it hitting there? (Insert Cane: "Tell them how big I am! Tell them that I almost perforate your stomach! My dick is dangerous!"----Ok, Cane ... they get it ... can I please tell this my way?) And you know what else makes it fun? The fact that the boy now has his hands free to touch me. He isn't leaning on anything or having to prop himself up. He can grope my breasts ... slap my ass ... grip my hips. These are things I really get off on.

Why is it so wonderful? Well ... technically it is said: "It serves to stimulate the most sensitive parts of the man's penis as a result of the way it is forced to bend while at the same time rubbing on the female G-spot and clitoris simultaneously." Oh, ok. That makes sense. I think Cane explained it like this "I LOVE THIS POSITION!" and mine is more like "Oh fuck yes!" But that one is far more articulate.

So, this is my ode to Reverse Cowgirl. I'm sorry I didn't give you the chance you deserved initially, but like the plain girl in high school that graduated and blossomed into a knockout ... you have my attention now.

All images copyright: 'The Secretive Slut", 2010