Random Rim Jobs
I swear. True story.I Want My Home to Be Filthy
Posted on March 08, 2011
I want this wallpaper so much! How much fun would it be to have a wall that looks, from a distance, to be a herringbone pattern, but upon closer inspection is a series of guns? A lot, I’m sure.
The company that produces this wallpaper, Filthy Home, is a hoot. The descriptions for each of the items includes a dirty story. The story for this wallpaper named, I kid you not, “Shoot Your Load” has a story about a woman who really enjoys horse riding.
There’s even a wallpaper called “Dick Picnic” that has a series of childish dick doodles. Love it.
The wallpaper is super expensive though, so I don’t think we’ll be installing it in our rented apartment. Our place is plenty filthy, I think.
I swear. True story.
That’s Quite a Big Gun You Have …
Posted on July 02, 2010I like guns. Well, the idea of guns. They’re dirty and they’re wrong. But they’re oh-so-attractive. So attractive that I recently found myself researching the rules to buying a gun in California. I don’t really want a gun … I don’t think.
Actually, I already have a gun. A gun made out of Lego bricks. I love Lego and I’m fascinated with guns so this seemed like a natural thing for me to get. I ordered my Desert Eagle from Brick Gun a few years ago. I’d tried to put it together but fucked up by mixing up two parts, and had given up for a while. I didn’t have time; I wasn’t in the mood to play.
The Viking encourages me to play. After we spent some time in Chicago, where there’s a Lego store, my love of Lego was well-cemented. I custom-made my own Lego people and then made them fuck. The Viking bought me some Lego kits as well. I reminded him that I have a gun ready to be assembled.
So a night in the not-too-distant past the Viking began putting the gun together. I had had some wine. When we ran out of wine I dipped into the liquor cabinet. Due to my alcohol habit, the liquor cabinet tends to contain only liquors used for cooking. I’m not so far gone into said alcohol habit that I need to drink booze meant for cooking. I am, however, so far into said alcohol habit that when the Viking was assembling a gun out of Lego bricks I decided to drink the Mason jarred corn whiskey.
Despite appearances, the corn whiskey is not actually moonshine. It was purchased in a liquor store, or maybe a BevMo, many years ago. The Ex bought it back before he was the Ex. We broke up in 2007, and he moved out, taking the jar o’ booze with him. Then, two years later, when he and his stupid (as in unintelligent and lame) girlfriend moved in, he brought it with him. When, after the stupid girlfriend attacked me and they moved out, the Ex forgot his booze in his haste to get him and his crap (that includes the stupid girlfriend) out of the place.
The Ex was a bourbon drinker. He may still be, but I neither know nor care. Back when we were together he was a bourbon drinker. His everyday drink was Maker’s Mark, but he would drink fancier – and more expensive – bourbons on special occasions. As bourbon is whiskey, he also tried out various whiskeys in his drinking career. On a whim he bought whiskey that was marketed to look like moonshine including being “bottled” in Mason jars. He tried some and immediately declared that it was horrible, and then moved with it on at least two occasions.
I poured myself a shot of the corn whiskey. I’d already been drinking some so it was easy to ignore the rubbing alcohol smell of the whiskey as I tossed it down my gullet.
I poured the Viking a shot. He seemed to think it wasn’t so bad. He continued working on the gun. I poured him another shot. We had a few shots … that weren’t so terrible.
It took a while for the drunken Viking to assemble the gun because the Brick Gun company’s directions are not nearly as clear as Lego’s directions. Lego, however, does not endorse Brick Gun’s products in any way.
Finally, the Desert Eagle was assembled including all the moving parts. HOT! I like guns.
Here is the Viking looking all crazed with a gun in his hand. He looks all dirty and sexy.
I swear. True story.
Gimme!
Posted on June 15, 2010
I want this. In so many ways, I want this. The nice teeth. The body. The tattoos. Especially that gun tattoo. The underwear. I’m going to assume he’s got a big cock since it’s my fantasy. His cock is big and he wants to put it in all my holes, sometimes very gently, sometimes not. I could have a lot of fun with this guy … so long as he didn’t say anything too stupid.
I swear. True story.
It’s Sexy Because It’s Wrong
Posted on February 18, 2010
It’s sexy because it’s wrong. She’s hot. She’s thin. She’s wearing a collar. Her shirt is a belt. A belt with skulls and crossbones on it. She’s got leather wrist restraints on. She’s holding guns. Guns.
So. Fucking. Hot.
I swear. True story.
Tie Me Up, Tie Me Down
Posted on January 25, 2010I recently had a very good first date. Very good.
We found each other through OkCupid. I had seen his photos and thought he was cute. One might think that I only go out with guys from OkCupid who I think are cute, but that is not the case. If the guy seems interesting I’ll go out with him. Looks are not all that important, and guys can grow on me if they’re cool, and good in bed.
We met at Cassanova, a divey Mission bar complete with velvet paintings of nude curvy women with big hair. I was a little early but my date was already there. We recognized each other immediately so there was none of that awkwardness of introducing ourselves. I found us a seat on one of the several couches in the bar and he got us drinks.
The conversation was good. As is my wont we talked about sex. He had gone to Kinky Salon the night before, I had fucked a hot chick. We talked about handcuffs; we talked about gun play. He put both in the same category; I did not, as gun play is way more dangerous, and requires way more trust than simply being handcuffed. But we agreed that they are both absolute turn-ons.
After a couple of drinks we crossed the street and had sushi. Our waitress was curt with us, and didn’t much appreciate that my date wanted to order a sashimi combination, as it wasn’t on the menu. We had sashimi, California roll, and spider roll along with some very tasty sake.
We then walked to his place. He assured me he had more alcohol there. And he did. He had a bar, complete with crystal booze decanters. He also just happened to have handcuffs, red ones.
He put the handcuffs on me, which I liked very much. I liked ‘em so much when he offered to take them off so I could make myself a drink I declined. My hands were cuffed in front of me so I made myself a drink with the handcuffs on.
We fucked. I sucked. He fucked my ass. He had a lovely uncircumcised cock and the smoothest cock head I’ve ever had the pleasure to put in my mouth. I don’t remember the exact order of the fucking, or if we fucked while I was cuffed, but I do remember him fucking me while I was tied up.
Tied up? Yes, tied up. At one point he appeared with rope and manhandled me into a hogtie. It was so fucking hot. I especially liked the feeling of the rope being pulled through as he was tying me up. He got me into a hogtie and left me there. Very nice.
He didn’t fuck me while I was hogtied. He fucked me after he did a bit of rope adjusting so my feet were free and my hands were bound in front of me. I was very much fascinated by the rope around my wrists. It was so pretty I stared it most of the time.
He offered to pay for a cab but I felt like walking home. It was raining but I had an umbrella. It was a pleasant walk in the rain. I probably should not have made the walk though, as it was well after 2am and I was quite drunk.
I was also still horny. So when I got home I made my new roommate fist me. Frustratingly, he refused to fuck me.
The next day I received the following message on OkCupid:
Hi There,
Thanks for coming out last night, and I’m glad you got home ok!
[Shazam's Date]
I really don’t know what the fuck to make of the message. Did he have as good a time as I did? Does he want to see me again? I really hate this part. I can only fuck things up at this point – by being too eager.
Whether he or someone else does it, I most certainly want to be tied up again.
I swear. True story.
gunfucked
Posted on December 21, 2009[I love getting stuff like this from readers. I like knowing that I've sparked a sexy memory, or inspired some sexy thoughts or activities. I gladly accept guest writer submissions at shazamsf@sbcglobal.net. This one is pretty hot.]
So:
I finally dug down in my stack of open browser tabs to find I still had the “Guns are Sexy” story open, which I had kept to remind myself I wanted to write something about it. I’ve done it (fucked someone with a gun): it was really fucking hot, and I didn’t think I could ever tell that story to anyone, so your post made me want to do so. I suppose this could have been a blog comment, but I didn’t feel like posting it anonymously just to get lectured about safe gun handling practices by some Internet idiot. I suppose if you liked it, we could consider this a submission for anonymous posting/story time, but I won’t flatter myself by thinking that’s a gimme.
It was with my longest-running fuck- and play-partner, who has a serious thing for force and nonconsent. (She’ll do scenes like that, every day, happily.) We’d done rape scenes with threat of violence from fist or knives, but it only took about five minutes from when she found out I had a real gun to ask if we could incorporate it into a scene. I was surprised because I thought she felt the same way about guns that you described, and I expected her to be mildly disapproving, but her eyes had the shining look that said, “I’ve fantasized about this, and it’s really taboo to me, and I didn’t think I’d ever tell anyone about it or ask about making it real.” The conversation itself was nearly worth the price of admission.
She normally fusses and fights a bit at the start of a force scene, but having the gun pointed at her temple dropped her into subspace faster than nearly any other thing I’ve done to her. She even handcuffed herself without complaint, and I can’t complain about not having to pin her down and stop her struggling to cuff her, once in a while. After I’d exposed her tits and ass and pussy (she likes that done slowly, to maximize the humiliation time), I picked the gun back up, and made her fellate it while I toyed with the rest of her. (She had initially suggested not covering it with a condom, but I didn’t think she actually wanted gun oil and cleaner residue in her mouth and pussy, and I didn’t really feel like stripping and cleaning the weapon immediately after the scene to promptly get girljuices and lube out of it.)
The mouthfucking was honestly the trickiest part; we were both fine with leaving her pussy slightly bruised tomorrow if it was a bit too vigorous, but nobody wanted to deal with a chipped tooth or three. It was worth the caution, though, as having it shoved in her mouth dropped her even further down into subspace, and got her so wet that the additional lube for fucking her cunt with the gun was largely unnecessary (but still fun to apply). I got her onto her knees, shoulders on the bed, hands still cuffed in front of her, and started working it into her pussy. I was surprised by how vigorously she could take it, both in the moment and the next day’s internal aches and pains report. Grabbing her hair and pulling her head back slightly while fucking her worked well. I only regret not having a full length mirror nearby in those days so I could throw her on her back and let her watch it slide into her, which I suspect would have sent her over the moon.
I wanted to try fucking her ass with it, but after all of the buildup, I don’t think either of us had the patience to work her up to trying, and something that rigid and hard and large seemed a bridge too far that night, though it’s still on the list to be tried next time. My cock had to pinch-hit in her ass for the gun. She didn’t seem to mind, especially when I offered her the (still-covered) gun to her lips and let her suck her juices and the lube off of it while I was fucking her.
True story.
–M
(The one piece of practical advice I might give: put a small piece of cotton on the front of the gun at the sight, and then put the condom over it. If anything’s going to scrape, scratch, and otherwise annoy and shorten your play, it’s the scraping from the gun sights.)
Guns are Sexy
Posted on December 11, 2009
I want to be fucked with a gun. A hand gun.
I finally met Army Guy. He is amazing. So fucking cute. Good fuck. I like fucking guys who are cheating on their wives/girlfriends so long as they don’t talk about them. Army Guy has a cute Southern twang when he drinks.
He was here just one night. We went out to dinner at Weird Fish where he didn’t feel comfortable sitting with his back to the door. Normally I don’t like to sit with my back to the door, but only because I like to people watch. He, on the other hand, had legitimate reasons for being nervous considering the three tours of duty he did in Iraq and Afghanistan.
We went back to his hotel where the hotel bar claimed to be closing. I think they could see that we’d had plenty to drink and didn’t want to serve us any more. We went up to his room and raided the honor bar.
Army Guy was in the Army. He also grew up in Alabama where he hunted and such. Army Guy is very comfortable with guns. He had a gun with him.
He showed me his gun. He let me hold his gun. They’re heavier than they look.
He told me to pull the trigger. I completely trusted Army Guy to be safe with guns and knew he wouldn’t have let me hold a loaded gun. I pulled the trigger. It really did feel amazing.
It turned me the fuck on. I’m a very liberal California girl who really doesn’t see any reason why people need to own guns. No, I’ve not seen Bowling for Columbine. (I can’t stand Michael Moore purely because of his fatness and ugliness; he needs to stay behind the camera.)
Nonetheless, I was fucking turned on holding the gun and pulling the trigger. And that Army Guy knew how to handle a gun was a huge turn-on too.
I have never seen any sort of gun porn. In general guns scare the shit out of me and I think NRA zealots are idiot assholes, but I could not help but be turned on.
We fucked with the gun next to us. I asked him to fuck me with the gun, but I think he didn’t fully understand what I wanted. I wanted to be fucked with the gun.
I couldn’t help it – getting fucked by a gun seemed so fucking wrong, which of course made me want to do it.
I really wish I’d had a bit less to drink on the one night Army Guy and I were together. I don’t remember much but I remember him fisting me. And I unfortunately remember me apologizing for every fucking thing.
I apologized for being too fat and unattractive and shitty in bed and everything else. Vodka can tend to make me a bit of a sad sack. Combined with that, Army Guy and I had had two years of build-up, and I felt like I was disappointing him by not being hotter. No, that’s not sexy, and I hate being like that.
We spent the night in his hotel and then went to breakfast. I wish I could have spent the day with him but I had to go work on a porn set. We talked on the phone later. He assured me he had a nice time and said he could tell I enjoy sucking cock. Well, that’s good.
I swear. True story
