Hawk was a bad boy, and just looking at him made my pussy gush. That was the first time any person had that effect on me, and it changed my life. Although his name was Dale, everyone called him Hawk, a truncated version of Hawkson, his last name. I’d become something of a serial girlfriend in my quest to find love, and I was, as usual, between partners at that moment. I’d gone for almost three weeks without hooking up, no...

In my youth, my home life was filled with love and acceptance. Perhaps the nature versus nurture debate is further confounded by my upbringing; the two intertwine to become almost one and the same. Looking at my life through one lens, the fact that I am exactly like my mother, despite my fullest efforts to the contrary, is starkly evident. Likewise, another snapshot would reveal that I am most definitely a product of my e...

Knowing why something is never changes the fact that it is, and, when cause and effect become intertwined, the topic or question becomes convoluted and mind-boggling. For instance, if one knows why Johnny Quarterback is an arrogant, self-entitled douche, it doesn’t change the fact that he truly is a feminine hygiene product that one might use on a Midsummer’s Eve. Causality just adds self-spiraling repetition. One can, by...

By the time I’d turned twenty-one, I had blossomed into a major, horny slut. With glacial slowness, I began to realize that I wasn’t the ugly duckling I’d been led to believe. That slow epiphany came through constant attention paid to me by every heterosexual male in a thousand-mile radius. It further confounded my inner turmoil; I had several identities that included a socially-acceptable, quirky but normal young woman,...

As serendipitous as unleashing my slutty powers of sluthood was, such a momentous step was not without a dark side. While I no longer seemed to care as much about other’s opinions of me, the emotional and spiritual carnage of my formative years not only still remained, but it was exponentially bolstered by taking those steps. My duality, a Jungian archetype, possessed me and shredded my soul. Acting like a dirty slut was...

The word, “slut,” holds a life-defining impact. The monosyllabic phrase has power over me, you, men, and women. No matter how one disguises or makes light of it, the negative connotations remain. Even in today’s culture of tolerance and acceptance, being labeled as a slut is the death knell of society. Women use it as a word of condescending judgment or, sometimes, to mark an impassable barrier, the territory beyond which...

Naked or not? Should I put something on or go naked? I couldn’t decide. It was almost noon on the second day of our two-week vacation at Club Hinaloa (not its real name) on the beautiful island of Moorea in French Polynesia. I was looking forward to a relaxing day naked on the beach, working on my all-over tan. I was speaking on the phone with Emy, the resort’s beautiful and ultra-sexy co-manager. Her call was about to ch...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I thought of being spit-roasted and roughly fucked by two guys at the same time, and my pussy started leaking again. Through the front window, I could see Charlie chattering away with a Black kid who was taller than he was but thinner. They weren’t looking at me, but talking excitedly to each other. And Charlie was right. Jaden was gorgeous! I still didn’t know what I wanted to do – but my body did. Feelin...