The Beautiful Kind

Know what’s hot?

When you’re at a good Thai restaurant with your date and he orders his dish “very spicy.”

God that’s hot.

One more entry about The Colony due to popular demand (OK, one request: “Please tell more of the great show that led to the standing ovation.”)

Nothing too special about it, just your typical fucking for an audience act, only it was cool that the audience was real and not just imaginary, as is so often the case. My usual Colony costume is a tight white t-shirt (for the black lights) and a short skirt over a black lingerie set, complete with thigh hi’s and heels.

The t-shirt and skirt come off pretty quickly, and then the bra and panties are shed when access is needed. The thigh hi’s and heels stay on. You have to remain standing as much as possible so as to not come in contact with filthy surfaces. It went something like this:

We made out and I got naked, and sat on a towel, legs spread, as he knelt before me, licking my pussy (he’s one of the best pussy eaters ever, has the perfect tongue speed and pressure.) It was so arousing to be stimulated in that environment - so dirty, seedy, all those bodies and eyes trained on you. I was the hottest thing there, which is very easy to pull off when you’re slumming it. I loved looking down at him as he focused all his efforts on me. He slipped a finger inside me and that sent me over the edge - I let myself cum loudly, primal, and my cries produced a reverse echo effect - instead of bouncing off things, they were absorbed into the walls and other people.

Afterwards I kissed him, and tasted myself - pungent, bitter, not sweet at all. Then it was my turn to kneel before him. He knew I was in the mood to have his hands in my hair, to work my mouth, for him to push into me. I made all kinds of nasty noises, sucking and gasping.

Then he turned me around so he could enter me from behind. I stood with one foot up on the couch, my hands braced as well, body stretched out and luminous. He kept his jeans and button down shirt on (men are not allowed to wear t-shirts to this godforsaken place, can you believe there’s a dress code?!) He rubbed his head up and down my hot, wet slit, and pushed his way in, halfway at first, then all the way. He grabbed on to my hips and I bucked against him, moaning and electrified. He fucked me quietly, both turned on and self-conscious of those watching. I came again this way, which is rare for me. So animalistic, we were the nature program, the live nude girl, the porn right in your face. His speed increased as he approached orgasm, and he pulled out and came as carefully as he could on my ass. Then he wiped it up with the paper towels in my purse we brought along for just this reason.

Other men came the same time he did. Not sure if they were as considerate as he was with cleaning up after themselves.

Since I’m an exhibitionist, a freak, and have guts of steel, I’ve been to The Colony several times. It’s always interesting, and sometimes it’s even sexy. It’s rare to find people you want to fool around with, but at the very least you get to have sex in public with the person you came with, as well as watch other people fuck.

It’s very surreal to be sitting in a dim room with porn flickering weakly, surrounded by a sea of couches with couples moaning and writhing about. The first time I went, I sat on one of the couches and felt something wet under my thigh. GROSS. From then on I knew to bring a towel with me.

One time I put on a show for a bunch of guys (totally hot if they keep their distance, but the moment they move in too close, fugetaboutit). I got eaten, and I came loudly. I blew my guy, then stripped and got fucked, my pale skin glowing in the dark. A small Latino guy was with his woman the next couch over, and watched intently. Months later, I ran into him again there. He was alone this time, and reported that his woman got pregnant, dumped him, and that he has dreamed about me ever since. How sweet.

We hooked up with a couple once - the woman was hot and the man was a psychologist at one of the local universities. But another time, I gots tricked. A trolly little woman came up to me and my guy as he did me doggy and asked if she could eat me as he fucked me. I thought, oh why not, it’s not like I’d see her face, and he’d probably like his nuts licked as he went to town. But uh oh, it was just a way for her husband, who was trailing behind her, to get an “in.” He was even MORE troll, and he stood in front of me with his small cock out. Talk about an awkward situation. Luckily he didn’t do anything except silently suggest I might want to suck on it, since it was right there and all, and I just turned my head.

One of the most memorable times was when I put on this great show and all these guys stood around and whacked off. One of them looked like Colonel Sanders, an old guy with a beard and white suit. You can imagine how funny it was to watch the Colonel choke his chicken. After I finished, I put my clothes back on and walked up the aisle haughtily. The pervs parted respectfully and murmured in awe, “Thank you.”

Here are some of the things that have taken place at The Colony:

1. A woman flopped down on the mattress at the front of the couples only theater and invited every man in the room up for a go at her (wasn’t me!)

2. Two men sat on a couch as their wives knelt, blowing them. After a time, the women switched places, and blew the other guy. I remember thinking how crazywild that was. Ah, to be young and naive…

3. A man had sex doggy style with a girl friend as two other female friends cheered him on and bossed him at close range: “C’mon man, give it ALL! Don’t hold back, that’s yo’ friend. Don’t shortchange yo’ friend!”

4. Two sexy young women put on a show on the gynecologist table in the middle of the dance floor. It was great until some creepwad came up and copped a feel without permission. That was the end of that.

5. A well-dressed couple entered the dance floor room and took a table by the dance floor. The woman situated herself on the rickety table so that her ass was exposed to the man. He then proceeded to paddle the shit out of her in front of the audience. After they were done, they arranged themselves and left.

6. A man was shackled to the dance floor and got walloped by two women. The crowd cheered.

7. A man had sex with a large prostitute in the couples only room. He finished doggy style, silent and determined, the only sound the thwack of their flesh colliding rhythmically. After he came, he pulled up his pants and walked out. She passed out on the filthy couch, resting up between tricks.

8. A granny in a turquoise Hawaiian print dress, grey bubble cut and glasses got gang banged on a table by the dance floor. She hiked her dress up around her hips and four guys stood in line for a turn. Her husband looked on approvingly.

Next: Oh, The Things I Have Done At The Colony

In my last post I suggested that if you want to have sex in public and get your freak on, you should check out The Colony, an adult movie theater on the east side. But I didn’t really mean it. That is, unless you’re just super curious in an anthropological sense instead of wanting a hot, sexy experience.

First of all, you should never go there as a single man - this automatically brands you as a loser. Then again, it’s virtually impossible to convince any sane woman to go the place (of course I’ve been several times.) The place looks like a dismal, low hanging windowless warehouse, and sits on a gravel parking lot patrolled by a security guard. You can get a good idea of who is inside by the type of cars and trucks parked on the lot.

You enter the front door and there’s a crusty counter with a glass case of old pornography and sex toys for sale. The place stinks like sweat, cigarettes, and desperation. A crusty old man, the owner, is there to take your admission. The price is way too high - like $30 a couple. Single men are allowed in, but they are supposedly not allowed in areas designated for couples only. Of course single women never think to go to a place like this, unless they’re turning tricks. On “party” nights, the price soars to $60 a couple. The difference between a party night and a regular night is that usually there are more people, and they bring a gynecologist table out to the dance floor.

Behind the counter is a theater where everyone is allowed. It consists of two screens separated by a piece of plywood, one screen showing gay porn, the other screen showing straight, so men can stand in the back and play pocket pool and act like they’re watching the straight porn, but are really ogling the gay porn.

There’s a bar where everyone is allowed as well, and you have to get to it by going through this creepy narrow dark hallway barely lit by black lights. The bar is incredibly 70’s with wood paneling, fake plants, an old TV on a stand playing porn, a jukebox, 70’s wall art similar to the kind once found at the Parkmoor, and, inexplicably, a wall of 10 gallon tanks housing horny guppies. As you sit in your booth and sip your drink and fend off perverts, you can watch the male guppies rape the fleeing female guppies.

There’s a dance floor room drenched in red lights that is supposed to be for couples only, but single men often find their way in there. Cheap tables and chairs surround the dance floor, which is slightly elevated and has shackles permanently fixed in the posts.

Finally, there’s a Couples Only theater. Couples get a key for that room. Single men often slip in after a couple, and they gather in the room until enough accumulate to necessitate a bouncer coming in like an exterminator and yelling, “Single men out!” which is the equivalent of turning on the kitchen light and roaches scurrying.

The room is extremely dim, and filled with old couches - not the kind of couches you would get at a thrift store, but the kind of couches you would salvage from condemned buildings.

Very.

Dirty.

Couches.

There’s a filthy bare mattress at the front of the room, and junked furniture piled in the corners, though it’s hard to make out what they are - stoves? tables? The screen in this room is weak and pale, and the sound is terrible, and the porn is very old, so it’s like ghost porn. It’s really not the main point of the room - it’s just there to serve as a prop. The real reason of the room is for couples to get it on. I shudder to imagine what the room would look like in broad daylight.

There. I’ve set the scene. Next I’ll describe some of the things that have gone on there. Granny gang bang anyone?

Dear Slut,
I’ve been dating an open minded woman. The other night we went over to the east side for some fun. I purchased a lap dance for both of us. She watched the exotic dancer perform for me for two songs. The stripper had to take off my belt and open my hands so she could re-position my “friend” since her act included a lot of grinding.

Then she did her routine for my date and she enjoyed it enough to let the exotic dancer kiss her all the way up her thighs and under her skirt. Needless to say, by the time we ended up at my date’s place, we were both ready to release all that built up tension!

So where are other places you would recommend I take girls who are open minded like this?
- A guy who likes fresh ground stripper on his crotch

Dear guy with the well seasoned crotch,
Well aren’t you lucky to be in the company of a date who is comfortable enough in herself and her sexuality to get freaky at the strip club. Sounds like you had the perfect strip club experience - you got to share the sexiness with someone in an open and honest way, had a lot of fun, and then actually got laid after all that public foreplay.

There’s a website called Metro Watch that features all the east side clubs. I’ve been wanting to check out the Hustler Club - I heard they have a high tech peep show where laser sensors separate the patrons from the performers, instead of glass. And Stormy Daniels (MEGA star, according to the flyer) is going to be at the Penthouse Club this week. And Roxy’s has that beloved shower set up so men can watch women get it on with each other or squirt pussy juice on the plexiglass while hanging halfway up the pole.

But as I browse this site, I can’t help but be amused at seeing photos of these seedy night joints in the harsh light of day. They look like clubhouses boys cobbled together using cardboard boxes and neon lighting from Spencer’s. Check out the Chameleon - this is more of a whorehouse than a strip club.

And if you want to have sex in public, put on a show and possibly hook up with other people, I suggest The Colony, which isn’t even on the list, since it’s an adult theater. But omigod this place is not for the squeamish, and deserves it’s own entry. To be continued in the next post.

My friend J asked if I wanted to go see the movie Once with her. I asked her what it was about, and she said it was an Irish, romantic, musical feel good film.

This immediately turned me off, so I looked it up on Rotten Tomatoes. It got a 97%! Because of this and the fact that it was only 95 minutes long, I decided it was worth the risk of paying $6 at the Tivoli to watch.

Sidenote: I get seriously annoyed when movies are over 2 hours long. I find it inconsiderate on the director’s part to take up more of my time than that to get his or her message across.

Spider Man III - 2 hr 20 min.

Pirates of the Caribbean III - 2 hr 45 min.

Give me a fucking break!

I watched the movie, and was successfully cynical at least halfway through, despite the lead guy’s cute scritchable red beard paired with a scarf (I LOVE that combo) and that he worked in a vacuum repair store (I LOVE vacuum repair stores). I sat in the dark theater, arms crossed, thinking, “It’s cute, but it’s no 97%.” Also, I’ll bet some people could have used subtitles. (”Fookin’ bat trees” = “Fucking batteries”)

But then something happened. Maybe it was the great music. Maybe it was the unpredictable nature of the film. Maybe it was the non-American ending. It sure as hell wasn’t the corny playing frisbee on the beach scene. But I got hooked.

As J and I headed to the CD store to get the soundtrack, I turned to her and said worriedly, “I’m not like one of those Rent obsessed idiots, am I?” (Even though I never saw Rent, I know it sucks.)

J assured me, “No, no, the RFT said that Once is SO not Rent.”

Phew.

Aww, just look at cute little blue-eyed Tootsie Roll modeling the sock monkey-sized puppet a friend gave me:

People often mistakenly refer to sock monkeys as sock puppets. This is insulting to sock monkeys. A good explanation comes from the book Sock Monkey Dreams:

Puppets are hollow and are manufactured to serve the needs and the words of another being. They are like parasites, attaching themselves onto the hand of a host in order to spring into personal existence.

Sock monkeys, however, are complete in and of themselves - solid, three-dimensional beings with distinct personalities who do not collapse into undefined flatness because of the lack of a host.

Yesterday I received an email from a fan who generously offered me a link to a slide show of his cock shots, along with the message:

show me your pussy already! I can’t take much more of your panties. Love your blog by the way.

I admit, some of the pics are rather sexy. I wish more guys would send me shots of their hairy chest… Anyway, I returned the favor by sending him a link to this pussy parade.

Seriously, this pussy does look a bit like mine…

From time to time I stand around at my daughter’s school for various events, acting as though I’m shepherding children towards safety and enlightenment, when really I’m just staring at all their nasty little Croc shoes and thanking the powers that be that I didn’t have a son.

So because of this, I was invited to a volunteer appreciation breakfast, which I am pleased to report was vegetarian. Even when they’re meat free, I still have an emotional allergy to such gatherings. I hate mingling with normal people, making small talk, and listening to people stand up in front of a group and read vapid quotes off of cue cards like, “Volunteers don’t get paid…because they’re priceless!” And I hate being told to clap for all the hard work I’ve done this year (”Let’s give ourselves a hand for making this a great school year!”) I’ve already patted myself on the back enough today, thank you.

I always hover at the door when I arrive, trying to decide if it counts towards attending if I at least step inside the room before fleeing. I have to force myself to affix a name tag on my boob, and then I immediately sit down, hunch over, and scowl, judging everyone’s fashion choices and fixating on the paper napkin designs. Then I mentally remind myself to sit up and look neutral, maybe fake a weak smile whenever someone happens to glance my way.

Anyway I’m glad I stayed for 30 minutes, because I got to eat fresh berries, the paper napkins were decorated in my latest obsession, polka dots, and I got to overhear this conversation:

Man wearing business casual attire to man wearing business professional attire, which includes a button advertising the bank where he works: Free marketing, ey? (This is code for: “I can’t openly make fun of you like I used to do in grade school because we are adults now.”)
Man wearing business professional/button, abashed: Well I do have to work today.
Man wearing business casual, possibly realizing that was a douchebag thing to say, attempting to recover: So how was your trip last week?
Man wearing business professional who took a lame trip: Oh it was fine, except for all the rain.
Man wearing business casual, reverting back to douchebag dialogue because that’s his comfort zone: Well what are you gonna do, it’s gonna rain. (This is code for: “You big complaining baby. You should accept the weather God blesses us with stoically. I should punch you.”)
Man wearing business professional, defeated: Yes, without the rain we would all die.

And now their empty conversation, which they hoped would evaporate and be forgotten the instant they turned away from each other, has been captured on a sex blog for thousands of people to read.