Thou Shall Not Steal

From one of the Rough Sex videos from the turn of the century. This stuff was so controversial at the time that the series was pulled after two releases. Now this sort of this is so commonplace, this one seems almost quaint.



If Rough Sex accomplished anything, it was to being the long process of desensitizing the audience to the spectacle of whores being beaten, choked and slapped to the point of tears while they're being fucked. We've got a lot to thank these guys for.

One of the dicks in this clip, Jon Dough, hanged himself a couple of years ago. I wonder if Keanna Bradley, the whore he's smacking around here, smiled just a little bit when she heard that.

Candy's Pain

Faces

Sophie Evans gagging:

Laycee gagging:

Misc jizzmops:

What Matters

Apprently, these creatures have been endowed with brains, but they just can't be as important as the tits, based on proportional size.

I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas

What Bad Girls Get

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Monica Belluci Love Scene from Irreversible

Silence Is Golden

Scenes from a Gangbang

I went to Kelli's gangbang a couple weeks ago, held in a cheap hotel suite on the East Side of New York. Kelli fucks for fun and profit, of course, so the first order of business was handing my money over to her pimp at the door. Her pimp is also her husband, of course, and though he's a greasy, weaselly little fuck, it's hard not to admire a guy who sells his wife's holes to an interracial gang of non-disease-tested strangers for 200 bucks a pop.

I was a little late to the party, so as I was undressing off to the side, I stood there for a minute watching these five guys standing in a circle like a basketball huddle, knowing that sweet little Kelli had five dicks and 50 fingers - or some combination thereof - probing her orifices.

At one point, I was sitting back against the headboard, Kelli on all fours in front of me with her mouth on my dick. Behind her, a well-muscled black dude with an enormously thick (though not really long) cock was pushing it into her ass. Kelli let out a little gasp and buried her face into my thigh. I very firmly, but gently, took her hair in my fist, lifted her head up so she could see me, and pushed her mouth back down on my cock.

Her eyes, during that brief exchange, flashed at me in a kind of apology, because she understood completely. I'd paid my money at the door for the right to use her mouth, her cunt and her ass; I wasn't the one that invited the zucchini-dicked brother; If she had more cock in her ass than she was able to handle, that's too bad, but that's not my problem, so you don't stop sucking my dick. It was a total rookie mistake, but she seemed genuinely sorry - and was, let's face it, under a bit of duress at the moment - so I let it pass.

Kelli's the kind of whore who can suck all the way down, then snake her tongue out to lick your balls. You give a girl like that some leeway now and then.

Crybaby

So far, life hasn't worked out the way she'd imagined it. Boo-hoo...

Emphasis

This one just wouldn't listen.

Kelli

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ID

This is just sloppy, but it happens a lot. A porno tgp for some reason publishes the "ID" shot, in which the slut is photographed holding up her identification to prove she old enough to play. I guess being outed is just another indignity heaped upon a girl like this.

Here's Hungarian harlot Krisztina Szegedi, dob Nov 29, 1981.



Papa's got to be proud to see her on Budapestbukakke.net.

Dolly

Here's a fascinating British documentary about men who live with Real Dolls, which are these absurdly expensive, realistic sex toys.



A number of feminists have complained about these "creeps" who "wish real women were like these dolls," but that misses the point. With these guys, it's just the opposite - they want their dolls to be like real women, because real women want nothing to do with them, so they've got nowhere else to turn. I feel that way sometimes, and it's sad.

(If you really do want your real woman to be like a sex doll, you might try here.)

With only the most tangential hook to hang this on, I'm posting the picture below because the model has the words "DOLL FACE" tattooed across her knuckles.



It'd take minimal time under the laser to change it to read "FUCK DOLL," thus making this real woman feel much more like a sex toy. And as you can see, she's already tightly secured and ready for shipping (biting and scratching is a danger during transit, but this setup should prevent that.

Making His Point

Feminine Ideal

This photographer really has a grasp on the ideal position.


On the knees, which, obviously, puts the mouth at the right approximate level. Legs slightly apart, for easy access. The arms behind the back - a good idea, in general, to keep them from getting in the way - but specifically, with the hands holding on to the opposite elbow. This improves the posture, arching the back and pushing the tits forward, while shifting more weight onto the hamstrings, which causes the buttocks to tense.

Wardrobe-wise, this is also the right idea. Thigh-high stockings highlight the lack of panties. Topless is, in fact, optional. (Fondling a pair through clothing can be exquisite as long as the fabric is soft enough. It also helps if she's just moments past her 18th birthday, as above.)

And, yeah, I cropped her head off. That's the way meat's usually delivered, isn't it?

Georgia

Georgia was a friend of a friend, a terrible flirt, and ultimately all talk. Okay, not all talk. One night we got to kissing somewhat passionately in the back of a darkened bar, and found ourselves headed, alone, back to her place. Unfortunately, Georgia had a real weakness for alcohol. She loved to consume it but could in no way hold it. By the time we got back I had to practically carry her up the stairs, and she was snoring by the time I laid her on the couch. I stood over her while, like the scene in Animal House, the two sides of my conscience fought it out. Except in this case, the Devil was screaming "Fuck her!" while the Angel was whispering "Oh, just play with her spectacular tits."


I listened to the Angel, not just because that's what you should always do, but because it seemed better than even that the physical business of actually fucking her was a lot more likely to wake her up, setting me up for an unbelievably awkward confrontation. He soft cashmere blouse unbuttoned soundlessly, however, and her bra was the kind with the hook in the front. Thirty silent second later and, in the low moonlight of her living room, I was staring at six or seven pounds of grade-A sweatermeat. Plump, firm, with small brown nipples and a heartbreaking constellation of freckles in between them, her nipples hardened as I brushed them with my fingertips.

Quietly I unzipped myself, my right hand (always my right hand) on my dick and my left on her left breast, I stroked her very gently and myself considerably less so. My mouth dry and my legs shaking, I felt myself rapidly building to a climax. I was having a truly enjoyable time, but for some reason the malicious impulse overtook me and, taking my hand of her tits, I aimed my dick straight at them and ejaculated a half a dozen or so streams of thick, white seamen across her chest. I exhaled silently and, dripping with sweat, looked at it glimmer in the moonlight for a moment. Gently I fastened her bra shut on her cum-covered tits - an exercise which took several minutes - scooping up the excess with my finger and pushing it unto the soft lace-trimmed cups. I buttoned up her blouse and slipped out the doorway, locking it behind me.

I personally believe that, hungover or not, it would be hard to wake up wearing a bra soaked with jizz and not be aware of it, but I really don't know. I never heard from her again after that. Today she's a married mother of three, and an attorney working for the state. I see her on the local news from time to time.

MILF

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Less Is More

Maybe you'd call this "getting jaded in reverse," but after years of deluging my brain with thousands, possibly millions, of images of increasingly vile pornography - young women being slapped, spit on, humiliated, practically gang-raped - every now and then I get brought up short by a vanilla image like the one right here. Beautiful, young, fresh-faced, seemingly intelligent, and with her perfect little tits peeking ever so lightly out her her cotton sweater. It's a reminder that sometimes a fleeting glimpse of the forbidden is considerably more exciting than having it ground into your face.

Of course, let's not over-think this. A few frames later, and she's spread-eagled and shoving a dildo into her shaved and tattooed cunt, but it comes off as a desperate effort compared to the little nip-slip above.

Good Parenting

There's a great little moment of reality in "Rough Sex", a 1999 video that was extremely controversial at the time but, given the way standards have changed in the last eight years, seems positively quaint now. Jon Dough is methodically breaking in a whore named Cheri Doll, a tattooed 23 year old piece of Arkansan white trash who was making one of her first videos (101 more would eventually follow). The great thing about watching one of these whores early on is that you get to see them making the worst mistake of their lives in real time. During the boring stretches of hydraulic in-and-out-pumping, you can try to imagine the events in their lives that led up to this moment, on her knees in a dirty hotel room getting fucked in the ass while three other guys stand around filming it.

Dough is standing over her, while her head bobs up and down on his cock. In what must've been a pre-arranged signal, he grabs her by the hair, pulls her off his dick and turn her face towards the camera. "Say it," he says.

She hesitates. He tightens his grip and shakes her head, pushing her face closer to the camera. She looks down at the carpet, avoiding the lens (avoiding you, the viewer), and speaks in a meek, quiet voice.

"Proud of me Mom? Proud of me Dad?"

"Good girl," says Dough as she turns back to his crotch. He slaps her twice in the face and guides his cock back into her mouth.

Doll changed her name to the equally stupid Autumn Haze, cranked out another hundred gonzo tapes, and quit the business after four years. In 2006, Dough hanged himself in a closet in his home, leaving behind a wife and a four-year-old daughter (left). His wife, a former pornstar named Monique DeMoan, had retired from porn in order to raise her little girl. Now, broke and widowed, DeMoan returned to the business a few months after Dough's death, where she is currently being ass-fucked and jizzed on for your amusement.

Goddess Trina

I found Goddess Trina via Her website, when I was hunting around for a new Domme. The pictures (which have since been changed) were incredibly hot, albeit a bit misleading. (In person She has a slight underbite which gives Her sort of a simian aspect, and She's very, very short - but Her body is as tight and hard as Her pictures suggest.)


But what got me hooked was not Her physical attributes, but rather something She wrote:

There are a few things which I would like you to know about MY sessions. First of all, I am not doing those sessions to fulfill your dreams and wishes, leave alone to follow a script of yours: a session is done to please and amuse ME and your are there to fulfill MY pleasures.

The question which I will drill into that nonsense mind of yours is very straight forward, even the most stupid oaf should be able to remember it: don't ask what I can do to please you, ask what you can do to pleasure ME.

And that theme will carry through the entire session. When you enter the room I want you on all fours, your ass up high in the air with your legs apart, I want to see your balls that I can squeeze them whenever I want.

Here was a woman who understood the psychological aspects of servitude. I booked a one hour session with Her in the studio She rents in SoHo, and received very specific instructions: I was to bring Her a bottle of spring water, have the tribute ($250 cash) in a plain white letter-sized envelope, and purchase a pair of women's stockings - not in Her size, but in mine, since I would be wearing them, and nothing else, during our session.

I had of course never shopped for stockings before, and had no idea what my size even was. I went to one of the smut emporiums on Eighth Avenue, where they sold whore lingerie up on the second floor, and eventually settled for a pair of fishnets with a built-in garter belt. I took them back to my office and put them on - without underwear - under my pants. The effect was like a pair of crotchless panties with feet in them.

When I arrived at the studio I was told that the Goddess was dressing and would be ready in a few minutes, and was shown into the dungeon room by a young Asian woman. She was cheerful and smiling, but when we got into the the room she told me, very sternly, that I was to strip down as quickly as possible, put on my stockings, and right...here - she pointed to a spot in the center of the room - get down on all fours, legs spread, ass stuck up, face pressed down, on the oriental carpet, and wait for the Goddess. I was to face away from the door, so the first thing the Goddess would see when She entered was my ass in the air. The assistant (possibly a Domme in training?) took my envelope and left without another word.

Stripping off my shoes, shirt and pants, I caught a glimpse of myself in the full-length mirror wearing nothing but a one-piece fishnet garter-stocking, and immediately felt both silly and embarrassed. Humiliated would probably be a better word - which is of course exactly the effect She wanted. I massaged my cock to make sure it was good and hard (not much of a challenge at that point), walked to the middle of the room, and got down on all fours. When I looked down between my legs, I could see the dungeon's closed door - upside down and partly obstructed by my own balls. I pressed my chest and face down into the synthetic carpet, and scooted my knees up closer to my chest, widening my legs and inadvertently spreading my ass open even wider. The cool air felt almost drafty against my asshole, and I could feel my balls start to tighten.

I stayed in that position almost ten minutes, my eyes closed, listening to the sound of my heart pounding against the floor - a sound that suddenly mingled with the slow click...click...click... of Goddess Trina's boots coming down the hall. The key fumbled a bit in the lock, and the door slowly opened. The Goddess stood there for a minute without saying a word, and I wondered if it were even Her, or, if it was, if She was alone. The door closed, the lock snapped shut, and Goddess Trina bent down, and ran her long red fingernails slowly across my ass.

Sex Site Schadenfreude

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That'll Do, Pig

Poor little Russian whore discovers that she's not quite up to the task of being cast as an Elite Pain slut.

Diana's Face

Diana's angelic, 20-year-old face was the first I ever came on. It was an accident, meaning I didn't really do it on purpose, but since it was something I had wanted to do since I first laid eyes on her, I didn't regret it, either. Diana was my first truly horny girlfriend - horny in the sense that she really liked fucking for the sake of fucking, not just because she was "supposed" to do it with her boyfriend. Even though she had a real "anything goes" attitude, deliberately shooting a wad into a girl's face seemed a somewhat hostile thing to do, and almost impossible to actually ask permission for. (Imagine if she says no - then what? You've exposed yourself as the kind of creep who wants to treat his girlfriend's face like dirty Kleenex. Enjoy your evening!)

I felt vaguely ashamed, in fact, that I even harbored such a desire, but the truth, which I couldn't admit to myself then, was that I didn't love her, I just loved fucking her. She was my real-life porn star, and porn stars always ended the scene with goop-splattered faces, so why shouldn't she?

But the event itself happened in a cramped twin bed, in the wee hours of the morning, as her sloppy, drunken blowjob had turned into an impromptu tit-fuck. In part because I was a little drunk, but mostly because she had just truly magnificent D-cup tits, I came faster than I had expected, thrusting my dick up just as her face looked down, and sending several ropey strands from her chin to her forehead. She recoiled as if she'd been hit in the face with acid, banging her head against the plaster wall, before collapsing in a fit of giggles and wiping it off with my pillow.

That was the last time I ever had sex in to completely dark room, because I never actually saw Diana's lovely cum-covered face. I've been relying on imagination ever since..

Beating the System

It seems to me that there are very few good porn blogs out there. Most of them are just fronts to drive you to subscribe to certain sites (and, no, this blog does not intend to fill that niche, which would surely be a lot of work...)

One of the better paysites out there for fans of black cock is Blacks On Blondes, but it's hard to find good-quality free sample content. I'd thought that BlondWitches looked like a good source, but in fact it just pushes you to the "Join" page of BoB. But here the deal: if you click on any of the sample pics (except the fourth [and usually best] one)you can then, in the address bar up top, manually change the "pic" number, from 01 to 30.)

Big dicks, little brains.