Seedy City, All Smut All Hours' Journal|
[Most Recent Entries]
Below are the 15 most recent journal entries recorded in
Seedy City, All Smut All Hours' LiveJournal:
|Wednesday, November 17th, 2010|
|Tuesday, February 6th, 2007|
Cross Posted here and there...(pardon some tense shifts)
|Thursday, December 14th, 2006|
From a Dirty Girl
Hello, I'm new to the community and new to Live Journal.
I've just started a blog about my perspectives about being a phone sex worker, and the erotic joy I take in it. I'm happy to add anyone that would like to friend me :) Comment away on my entries if you wish! I hope I end up being rather a prolific blogger! Current Mood: bouncy
|Friday, December 8th, 2006|
Everyone should join this community. thepornexchange
Stop paying for porn on websites or buying dvds. Join this community, post what you're into, download movies otherpeople upload, request things you want. this is the only active
live journal community specifically for trading porn movies.
The commnity has been around for a week or so, we already have about 200 members and several videaos have been posted. We would like to keep this up. Stop over, and check it out.
promote this if you wish to, that would be fabulous.
See you there.
|Friday, April 21st, 2006|
subway groping roleplay transcript
i'm crossposting and old subway groping roleplay transcript of ours because Karen's enjoying the comments... happy reading!sudzy_baby: You had just gotten on the subway it is packed and you push as hard as possible in order to get into the car. You are wearing a mini-mini-skirt and a blouse; no underwear, as always, but a bra, very light, which didn't hide much of your chestYou climbed into a car and was pushed toward the back by all the people who wanted to get on behind you; everybody packed like sardines in a can as the door closes. Your arms were trapped against the length of my body and could not make the slightest movement, held fast in front, behind, to the right and the left by other passengers. You were almost against the back door of the car; and there was only one other person, behind your back, between the door and you. Suddenly, you sense a hand behind you, being placed on your ass
|Wednesday, November 2nd, 2005|
Hi, I'm new and wanted to say hello. Now that that's overwith... I really like some of the stuff i'm reading here. I don't know the proper terminology, but i think "bizarre erotica" seems to fit. Hence my inquiry... what do you mean by no "erotica" or "her-otica"? thanks.
|Friday, June 24th, 2005|
|Thursday, January 13th, 2005|
come and see my seedy lips and .. me!
please comment !
also, please please please read my journal, i have not worked one hour today, just wrote down what i did on the train yesterday... i am so hot and dary these days..!
i amaze myself.. lots of licks!
|Tuesday, October 28th, 2003|
As I sit here and watch this dark haired beauty come in and out of my office, I know she's a complicated one....someone to whom I could relate on both a physical and a spiritual level....
She gives me the eye...my wife would find her delicious!
I know she's attracted to the darkness.....
I will update this thing......
I will be making a move on this fair maiden...she will be excited...I know she will...people like us are drawn to each other on a magnetic level... Current Mood: excited
|Monday, October 27th, 2003|
|Tuesday, August 5th, 2003|
As a rule, men outside of my own age don't interest me. The Lifeguard is an exception. Sure, he's a typical eighteen year old with nothing to offer conversationwise beyond small talk about weather and swimming and off-campus living in freshman year and pursuing his dreams of being a rockstar. I hum a droning cocktail lounge tune inside my head when he talks for any length of time, wondering if he ever nicks his head when he shaves it. Wondering if he uses a straight razor over the taut musculature of his nape, tiny fleck of blood welling up and running ever so slowly in a lazy curve over caramel tanned flesh. He's still talking about college, which he undoubtedly will drop out of, and my lips are tingly hot and wetted by tonguetip and breath humid rising against the hills and valley of his shoulder, catching the rivulet on my lowerlip and smearing a trail as I flatten my tongue against the velvet smoothness of his freshly shorn skull, tasting his salty metallic sweat and the peachy musky chlorinated skin scent. My heart is flipping and I exhale and lick my way agonizingly slowly down to the side of his neck, seeking the tendons and jugular for the pleasing *crunch* as he pulls away suprised by the clench of my canines, my hands palm flat against his naked back, hands that shift forward and downward over the hairless chest, the adolescent pecs and bare belly, crashing into the tops of his damp black nylon swim trunks. The pulsing throb from my depths controls our destiny, his uninitiated sexual confusion enveloped by my experienced Kali-like horniness and within minutes this svelte golden man-wall is straddling my chest, deliciously inflamed purple-headed cock constricted in a sweat and saliva slickened 38DD tit tunnel, his broad manual labor-free hands cupping the sides of my breasts, fingertips pointed prayerward with my penciltip eraser nipples sealed between while I pant and inahle and meet the tip of his tit plunging dick with a slurping enthusiastic tongue until his teeth grit and his eyes flinch and my neck and chin and rack are awash in the absolute sticky slick essence of youth. I sit up and pull him down halfway into a forceful kiss, pushing a tonguefull of his teen jism back inside his semi-opened full lips. Hooray for first snowballs of the relentless summer...
|Monday, April 21st, 2003|
Breathe in. Breathe out.
The black cigarette raised to my lips, as my tongue tip darts out to wet the precise spot of my lower lip in anticipation of its sweet sting. Clove soaked black paper against chewed raw skin, my inner tension expressed through nervous lip biting when the desire spills over from my thoughts to almost action. Draw the aromatic smoke in, closing its cancerous passage down my throat and redirecting into smoky tendrils exiting my nostrils, hostile smoking Dragon Lady style. Hoping you're looking from the corner of your catlike eyes as you overly mindfully position the tripod on the patchy lawn, self-conscious and sweating and drip drip dripping rivulets from your temples, past the almond eyes, over the ridge and hollow of the cheek, disappearing slowly over the squared angle of your jaw. I shift my legs in front of each other, pressing my thighs together generating the electric throb through my mons, dampness from my own temples. Inhale. Exhale. Flicker sputter burn. Throb. Damp. Shift. Tongue wiping the clove sting clean until the next burning penetration between lips and sharp balancing teeth. You adjust the flash for best bounce off the headstone and I'm measuring your waistline, wondering how far up my knees I'll be able to trap you, pull you tightly and deeply and wrestling to control staccato upward thrusts into slamming slow downward movement. Inhale. Pause. Dragon Lady estimates leg leverage against bucking buttocks. Exhale. Lean against the grey old oak and walk its circumference halfway, heels driving into the crumbling dirt, hair sticking to the coarse broken bark. Hand to mouth, tongue to lip, thighs together, breasts tingly and heavy, vision blurry grass as mind bends me over the silent stones, ruffled skirt pulled jauntily over my ass, flounce barely concealing the slick labia folds, hands grasping for hold and elbows scraping, heart thudding inhale inhale your palms and fingers on my thighs, smooth pant fabric with its hidden steely zipper and underlying pulsating cock pressing rubbing exhale. Heart pounding dropping sensation, falling arms bound, delighting in the building excitement-inhale exhale-excitement!- as gripping fingers fan out and inward and digits push in dry and swirl out in wetness of infinite sticky smoothness, dipping in, met with moisture and rubbery resilience and a texture like cat tongue matching your cats eyes, painting streaks and splashes onto the pant material as you pull away to lay both hands like a flesh and bone cup to catch the tangy scented flow from my delta, my head dropped so low in delirium that my chin rests against my sweating chest, heart huffing and bursting low panting exhale exhale.
Inhale. Your artist calloused fingertips slip over the glistening slit inward, from ass seam to clit with a teasing pass into the cat tongue valley before -inhale- the insistent pressing of your pink tongue retraces, dips into me with a curl and a divine exhalation first hot then chilling against the wet velvet dampness. Slow, delicious calculated licks inside and outside, up the thighs and down. My hands turned to fists, knuckles grating against the rough grave marker's surface, blood blood on the door blood blood on the floor. Knees buckle and shred smearing crimson against the old stone, exhalation like whining. I am begging, almost on knee, weak for your sting...to be continued
|Saturday, April 6th, 2002|
Bloom of my blood fetish
Blood in an erotic context makes me tingly. Just as all men don't appeal to me, all instances of the red liquid don't make me horny, such as tending to a skinned knee or menstrual blood or the clotted mess under plastic wrap in the meat case at the grocery. Yet a trickle of blood from the mouth or wounded body part of an appealing form, male or female, makes that same tingle happen like a lighting bolt deep in my pussy - an instant bloodrush and hot throb. The only tolerable scene from Moulin Rouge
was the death scene with the bloody kiss, and Milla was to die for as the latex domme in the Zoolander
scene, wiping her bloody mouth with a smug smile. I'll watch any vampire movie in the hopes of a drawn out neck biting scene with close ups of crimson rivulets flowing down necks and chests and arms and over white sharp teeth and pink seeking tongues.
Like all fetishes and sexual interests, there has to be some sort of connection, some defining event between the fantasy and the fantasizer. Mine was the sexual formative years of sixteen or so, usually involving a boyfriend two years older than I was, with the same morbid predilections for biting and blood and animalistic fucking. We knew each other for a year or more before dating, as I was involved with his best friend and he respectfully waited until that was dead and buried before pursuing me in a gently endearing fashion that belied his deviate sexual nature, which I'd like to think I helped to cultivate. We dated for several weeks, maybe even months, before consummating in an upstairs bedroom while my best friend sat, bored and jealous downstairs, endlessly looping the Cult's "Wildflower" 45 single loudly enough to cover the bouncing bed noises above.
We were endlessly fucking in that delicous teen frenzied style and his parents were terribly indulgent by letting us spend hours unsupervised in his room. His lips were soft and his kisses firm, biting my tongue tip until the wet penny taste of my blood would fill my mouth, then I would reciprocate the biting and sucking and swallowing until our tongues were too sore to continue and it would dissolve into fully nude sweaty body worship and wall scraping pounding in that white, brightly lit small room.
He gave me the most delightful love bites, scarlet and purple bloody patches extending fully around my pale neck like a violent collar, a symbol of my submission to his possession and a means of my mother despising him and my badge of obvious eccentric sexuality for all my peers to see. Occasionally he'd suck and bite so hard on my neck and shoulders that the skin would break and the blood would trickle down, often mixing with his sweat as his cock pumped into me, the audible wet peeling of our supple youthful bodies pulling away momentarily in the thrusting. Bruises like winged tattoos covered my nape and upper back after fierce sessions of doggiestyle fucking, usually the most fulfilling when I'd feign unwillingness and fall off the bed naked and crawl across the floor with him in pursuit. he'd grab me by the legs and pull me back into the room, carpet abrasions on my belly and chest as I wriggled and screamed before either escaping again or being roughly penetrated after being dragged back to the bed. My skin would be pink and raw and burning and his tongue would lick away the fire and blood and all would be right again. He was the only guy I dated who enjoyed eating me during my period, lapping up all my pussy fluids and kissing me full on the lips, the copper taste and smell lingering, the bloodstains on the white sheets let as an afterglow memoir and a bane for his mother to wash.
One day he cooked me lunch, as he was fond of doing, and he slit his finger into the rice, dripping his blood in precious droplets and pretending it was an accident while I smirked knowingly that it was some sort of voodou, surely, as he milked the liquid into a scarlet splattered side dish which I quickly consumed before retiring upstairs with his slit finger in my mouth and his swollen cock pressing into my cunt... absolute ecstasy. At some point in our years together, he had a car accident injury on his finger, which was stitched and covered in a cast and our constant rough fucking kept busting the stitches, leaving a red bloody stain leaking through the plaster needing a restitching immediately. He slit his wrists and made a melancholic mess one night, taking him not to the ER but up my skirt. We later began draining willing persons of their blood, but that's a story for another time.
Fucking Unattractive Men
My teen years were full of guiltless hyper-sexuality and selfish yet un-self conscious fucking. The majority of my adolescent partners were lewd punk boys who acted detached in my presence when in public but were alternately whiney/pushy when the opportunity to fingerfuck me in a closet appeared, or morbid artsy types who prefered to be seduced and then wrote odes to your "milky beauty swallowing them whole" on lined notebook paper stuffed into your locker and illustrated with bats and ankhs and Echo & the Bunnymen lyrics. All these boys were beautiful in different degrees, leaving me to feel the need to pleasure them in dazzling ways, to be the "one" they remembered while jacking off daysweeksmonthsyears later... to be whispered about in the school halls or persuded in the underage accepting dive bars. I was an aggressive soul sucker, devourer of purity and swallower of cum.
In my late teens, a particular incident or two involving less than my standard of attractiveness lead me to the realization that I didn't have to use as much wile on ugly men, neurotic men or older men as the effort of attaining a courteasan artistry as with my previous handsome boys. Such men seemed overjoyed that I'd allow a cheap date and a trip back to their meager surroundings to inevitably end up on the squeaking bedsprings, dick deep inside with my full participation. The fortunate reality was that I could drop my seductress/goddess act and concentrate on my own pleasure as he spread my slick labia with one hand and slipped his eager yet untrained tongue over the hollow slit, focusing undue attention on my hard clit until I'd firmly reposition his head to lick repeatively from my ass to my clit until the throbbing became too much and I'd whimper huskily for penetration, the words forgotten or unclear but the message understood and complied to immediately... except for one homely 20-something named Jeff ( I think).
Jeff looked like a young John Lovitz, was a student of something forgetten at Houston Baptist University and a model pity fuck. I had discovered the concept of personals in the alternative weekly paper and sent in my own and Jeff wrote me, sans photo. We met at a Bennigans's and, upon seeing him, I wished that I'd had made a back up plan yet I didn't turn down dinner and a trip back to his clean yet personality deprived apartment. At some point, I allowed him to touch me despite my near repulsion with his looks and boring fucking essence. Jeff was suprisingly deft at foreplay, caressing and kissing and unbuttoning without shaking fingers or unsubtle requests for having his dick sucked right away. Instead, he slowly undressed me and massaged everything, not just the sticky moist supple parts so well that I could ignore his intermittent bragging on how flawless his orgasmic fucking technique was. I kept my eyes shut and ignored his nasal voice, focusing exclusively on his fingers drilling and twisting inside my increasingly damp cunt, my toes curling and uncurling in anticipation, teeth hard on my nipples and the bassline drone of Depeche Mode.
He had an average sized cock, not too long or thick or exceptional in anyway except, by the grace of some sympathetic god, his screwing ability was exquisite. After full foreplay of body rubbing and sucking and waiting until I began pulling at his head or arms in an attempt to have him enter me most quickly lest my pussy slow its upward throbbing spiral of orgasmic fury, he'd pull a pillow under my ass and kneel with his cock in his hand, pressing measuredly against my clit and circling the outside of my slit, pausing at the base of taut skin between my vag and my asshole, causing great uncertainty over which orifice he was going to ram into at any second-- my being so achingly willing at that point to accept any form of penetration with a gratifying trembling moist reception. He'd ease his mediocre sized cock in an inch or so, the first delicious contact of flesh into flesh sending me into shivering, grappling thralls of animalistic pleasure, deep moaning and tugging at his waist and hips to get the bed thumping action going. He never gave in very quickly, consistantly teasing me and promising what a fabulous fuck I was about to recieve, more as a way to boost his own ego than to raise my hopes, surely, as I know he noticed how alienated I was from him, even during the act of putting his dick in me. He'd often request,"Open your eyes", which I'd comply with briefly only when getting an immediate deep dicking was at stake. After several throbbing, blue balled minutes of being dick teased, he'd slip into my positively dripping pussy to the hilt, half sitting up with the pillow lifting my hips to full penetration depth and absolutely goddamn delicious clit rubbing level. Within two minutes or less of his rhythmic press-pump-pause-press-pump, my huffing and panting and catlike yowling would go silent as my coming was unstoppable and it was only me and my rumbling tense clit, spilling over into a spasmic wave of jerking tubular muscle with Jeff as nothing more than a sentient provider of pleasure, although I hardly even bothered with his being sentient or even present once the ferverant throbbing tension took hold, and after the tightening and releasing of my vag faded into a dull ache I would push him away and out with a slickness and a *squish* *pop* and roll over, his wishy-washy disappointment in my lack of concern over his release blocked out by Violator blasting within arms reach as I turned my satisfied back to his ugly mug and pathetic being and clueless cock and fell asleep.
I slept with him for several months until someone more worthy of taking out in public came along, or my army fiance' came back on leave, or I just grew tired of making an effort of disguising my lust as an actual interest in him as anything beyond an extension of my lubed masturbatory fingers or a fleshy bullet vibrator. At the end, I'd enter his apt, go directly to the bedroom, put on Violator and lay waiting with a pillow under my ass, legs spread and impatient as I endured his useless defiance over being used as a fuck toy. All the while his mouth bleated, his cock told the truth.
When I hear "World in My Eyes", I still get a stabbing throb and tightening in my naughty parts. Thank you Jeff, you sad lurching mismatched clothing loud-mouthed magic dicked lug.
|Thursday, March 7th, 2002|
Ok, until suburbangothic
returns from NYC to post some "stranger than fiction" stories, we're going to have to settle for this
to get this community started. Current Mood: randy