Tag Archives: hookup

Photoshoot debauchery: the final installment

Before I describe the sexytime, I’ll briefly mention this funny shit:

After we’d decided I should stay over, I was giggling “We weren’t even drinking and it was still daylight; it was 3pm when we started. So we haven’t got any excuse – we’re just sluts!”

And, “You’re easy. I just met you and in less than an hour I had you by the balls.” “Yeah, LITERALLY!” said Donny.

Later, he joked about closing the window in case a rapist got in and came after me. I said it wouldn’t matter because Roland is not a virginity fetishist, so if I sent him copies of the police reports proving that it was rape, he probably wouldn’t cancel our deal and I’d also get Criminal Injuries Compensation for the rape so I’d end up even more loaded.

And I’d also made Donny strip and do a dance with his thing flopping about while I lay on the sofa and giggled a lot.

Anyway, back to the sexytime:

(Sexytime was the best word Sacha Baron Cohen ever coined. Just sayin’.)

I’m not going to give a blow-by-blow account like I do with Roland.

The first couple of times the bottle ended up pointing at Donny, to my great delight. I had him stick the Smirnoff bottle up his bum while facing and watching The Ring as Rachel held Samara’s skeleton in the well. I made him keep watching. It brought me pleasure just forcing him to watch it. At other times I pissed on him (iun the bathroom), discovering that I actually do enjoy watersports after all. I also rode him like a horse, spanking him with the hairbrush to make him go and strangling him with a belt to make him stop. I also got to spank him but only briefly because he didn’t enjoy it.  I also tried to make him wet himself but he said he wouldn’t be able to do it. Of course, roughly 50% of the time the bottle pointed at me. So, I ended up doing stuff like cock worship and having a belt tied around my neck and having to be a dog. Donny dragged me around the room on all fours and made me roll over and beg. At other times he made me stick a screwdriver up my bum and do forward and backwards rolls with it in. He also made me stick the other Smirnoff bottle up there. I also got my first taste of anal fisting, which hurt A LOT and I kept screaming and thrashing around, but was utterly determined not to ask him to stop. I can bear a lot of pain, but only sometimes. He did get five fingers in. I also sat on the sofa and made him present his bottom to me, saying “Queen Tut, you have the authority to spank me.” Of course I couldn’t resist smacking the two round cheeks. Then he had to kneel in front of me with arms outstretched and say “Hail Queen Tut.”

So basically I found out that I like being dominant in all aspects of BDSM except spanking, where I’m a switch. Then we went into the bedroom and did anal, which hurt a lot and was just painful with nothing good about it. He never got all the way in. Then we slept as the candle burned. I woke up many times during the night, always aware of where I was.

The next morning, the clocks went back. Donny wouldn’t tell me what time it was, teasing me that he knew something I didn’t. He said I should go round to Roland’s house and see what he says. I pointed out that Roland lives a distance away. We went out for breakfast and somehow got talking about US oral sex laws in Louisiana that had been made to catch gays in the 1990s but sent a 17 year old to jail for 10 years for oral sex with a 15 year old – despite repeated efforts to get him pardoned. He’s still there. Donny said imagine what we’d get for what we did last night – probably the electric chair! Back at the flat, his radiator caught my eye because it was so hot. I asked him to push me onto it. Donny was brilliant – he started interrogating and strip-searching me for drugs, then pushed me onto the radiator. It burned and I yelped; I got a red swollen bit on my bum that was sticky. He said he’d never met a girl as openly kinky as me. We went out on a few business calls, then back at the flat he spanked me, but only for a while because he was tired. Then he drove me to Princes Street, saying he would respect my privacy and not post the photos, and likewise he didn’t want me to put his real name on this blog. He kissed my cheek before dropping me off, saying I could stay over again or call if I wanted.

I wish I wanted to see him again but I don’t. I don’t know why. I enjoyed doing it with Donny more because he’s more attractive than Roland and I actually fancy him. But Roland is sexier – his voice and the way he oozes perversion, and the way he spanks. The spanking and roleplay is better with Roland. I wish I did want to call Donny but I don’t. It’s like, the challenge is over; I won, I had sexytime with him, so now let’s move on to another guy and see if I can get him, too.

But you never know – if Roland doesn’t call me soon, I just might get sexually frustrated and call Donny. Who knows?



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Photoshoot debauchery III

I was so happy and excited that I was going to stay over at Donny’s apartment; I just LOVE spanking so much! Donny took a couple of business calls while I changed into a corset over a t-shirt and black skinny jeans. Then Donny drove us to get a couple of drinks before we headed out; I wanted WKD but was happy to get two Smirnoffs; then Donny got his money off the guy and we headed back to the flat. We sat drinking, the Smirnoff tasting really good as Donny illegally downloaded The Ring and then it played on the TV. I hadn’t seen it on a TV since I was 13, though I watched it on my laptop at uni when I was 18. As soon as it started it was pretty sexy; horror and violence in films can turn me on. I asked Donny if he’d seen the scene in the new Conan when Conan puts his hand up this guy’s nose and the guy pees himself. Which is super hot and so funny. Then Conan forces him to eat the keys, takes him outside and tells his slaves: “The key to your freedom is inside this man’s stomach! FREE YOURSELVES!” And they cut open his stomach, which is pretty hilarious. Although they could’ve waited for him to poop them out. I wish Conan was a girl -Conina? then I’d probably enjoy it even more.

“How did you feel, when you saw it?” I asked.

“Shocked,” said Donny.

The Ring played, and I was remembering what would come next. He told me The Grudge is also all hair and asked me if I have an aversion to hair (because of my trichotillomania). As the film played I started going “Die, bitch!” at appropriate times and wanking to it and Donny was looking at me, which was pretty cool. He giggled when I said “Die bitch!”

Then we got ready to go out, me leaving half my second bottle. While Donny got ready, I sat in front of the TV. Donny came back in and said I looked like I was actually in The Ring, “you know, when they get right up close to the TV.” I’ve always liked being very close to the TV; film has far more effect on me than music. Especially films about the ancient world.

Donny said he felt like he’d known me forever and he was totally letting go in my presence. I felt the same, and said so; and yes, I was certainly giving free reign to my weird side too.

We got a taxi and went to a great chippy in Bruntsfield; the chicken supper was so yummy. Chicken suppers are my favourite food apart from KFC, my second and third favourites being venison and salmon. Donny paid for my food whic was nice, and it was so delicious. The X Factor was on the telly over our heads and we watched it in the reflection in the glass.

Then we walked to the Grassmarket and went into a pub; I had a blue WKD (Donny bought me drinks all night; he’s a gentleman). He told me about his friends; this girl and her boyfriend who’d go into pubs and the girl would flash people and pretend it was an accident. They did that all the time. A two-man band who obviously were just drunk and not an actual band were playing, one guy drumming on the box he was sitting on. We headed out into the Grassmarket and I asked Donny for a smoke; it was my first cigarette. I know you’re meant to cough the first time but I actually liked it and puffed away. “You’re such a bad influence on me,” I giggled.

We’d brainstormed sexytime ideas back at the flat, and were going over the shopping list as we walked. Flavoured condoms, lube, a paddle…though Donny said we wouldn’t find a paddle this time of night. We went into a corner shop where Candlemaker’s Row slopes steeply down to hit the Grassmarket before it tapers into the Cowgate. Donny piced up some condoms but they didn’t have lube. He said baby oil would do it; by the time I rememberd that baby oil eats away condoms (cos we were going to do anal too) we were in earshot of the shopkeeper so I didn’t say. (Turned out he bought lube at the counter but not condoms because they weren’t flavoured, which necessitated the Great Edinburgh Condom Hunt of ’12, which I’ll write about in due course.)

We headed to Opium on the Cowgate and Donny found a tenner on the floor. I had some vodkas and Donny gave me a vodka and Red Bull; he said it keeps you full of energy instead of being tired at the end of the night. At 11 the dancefloor opened and Donny wouldn’t dance but he watched me dance; I was doing my usual wild bellydancing stuff and nearly getting onto the floor then leaping back and bending backwards. Sometimes everyone else would form a circle and watch me. They said I danced good and so did Donny, which is true. I’ve always been good at it since I was 13. It was because people always told me my dancing was like bellydancing that I decided to learn bellydancing for a while at uni. But I was careful not to over-exert myself though, and kept my movements more minimal and less crazy; I didn’t do rolls on the floor and kept it mostly to hip and torso  movements. I knew I needed to conserve my strength for sexytime.

Every now and then I would plead with Donny to dance but he said he was content just watching me. I danced with this really tall guy and he lifted me up a couple of times; I waved at the crowd. He wanted me to go home with him. Then three hot sexy young things started chatting me up; they were all delicious. I was like, WHAT IS IT WITH BOYS?? I ONLY EVER GET CHATTED UP BY GUYS I DON’T LIKE AND SUDDENLY THEY ALL COME AT ONCE – THE VERY NIGHT WHEN I ALREADY HAVE A GUY???!

After an hour or two of dancing, I asked Donny if he wanted to go. I was worried about exhausting myself as I find it difficult to dance slowly for long. It is as if my body wants to whirl. Sometimes to dance slower I will dance like a snake, with fluid movements.

We walked back to the flat, being unable to find a taxi. We talked about the club and Donny said he was thinking ‘If she goes home with that guy [the one I was dancing with] that’s fine, I’m happy she’s happy’ and I said that’s what’s so good about not having relationships; you are free and can feel happy for the other person instead of upset or wanting to punch the other guy.

Donny said he got the lube but not the condoms, and maybe we could go to Tesco’s to get some. I pointed out he was too drunk to drive but he said Tesco’s was only round the corner from where he lives so it’d be okay. I hoped he wouldn’t get caught cos I don’t know how big a fine or how many points on your licence you get for drink driving; I think it depends on how over the limit you are. Anyway at least he’d be doing it deliberately, not like those unlucky people who didn’t remember to have a designated driver (especially if they didn’t plan on drinking or drinking much) so have no choice but to drive drunk and are then criminalised for it. (But then I suppose we have to be criminalised for it, otherwise everyone would drink drive and claim to “forget” to have a designated driver, or to “forget” the buses don’t run that late.) We passed the lesuire complex so we went to the casino in case there were any in the mens’ toilets. So I got my first ever membership card to a casino. They were out of condoms; I said I could check the ladies’ but Donny said if there weren’t any in the mens’ there wouldn’t be any in the ladies’.

Then wewent into a bar and had a drink each; it was nearing closing time (1pm). I had a Sex on the Beach. Donny went to the toilet and came back saying the condom machine wasn’t working, then rembered it said £3 but he was only putting £2 in. Then we finished our drinks and got out.

I’d felt sleepy inside the bar, whereas previously I’d been absolutely wired from all that Red Bull, and probably the Lucozade from earlier.

We got into the flat and Donny made us coffee. I was feeling sleepy and I’d only had 8 drinks; I can have 12 drinks usually with no effect. Maybe because the first two were on an empty stomach and I hadn’t eaten much or had much sleep the previous night.

“You’re not going to party out on me?” he asked.

I was fine after the coffee (The Ring playing softly on the TV) and the rest of the Lucozade.

Then we started playing Spin the Bottle…


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Spanking and anal at photoshoot with a guy I just met

Well, dear readers, this sexytime post does not feature Roland! But it still deserves its place in my Diary, because it is an experience I’m having while selling virginity, and we did talk about this blog and Roland. He even offered to make a website for me so I could auction off my virginity for a much higher price. I turned him down because a) I wouldn’t necessarily get more – Rosie Reid only got £400 more than me and the girls who got loads, such as Natalie Dylan, have never been verified to have sold it; b) I have a verbal contract with Roland, c) I prefer it to be someone I like and d) it’s harder to vet bidders online and I want to be safe. And of course e) – I want a kinky person.

I’m sure that this blog post will convince you all that I do ‘put my money where my mouth is’ – in other words, that I am indeed a slut.

It certainly convinces me, because I never saw myself as doing something like this. I guess you don’t know who you are until the opportunity presents itself. A few short years ago, I would’ve despised a girl for doing this and said she was a slut, a tart. But I changed shortly after going to university because I saw no point in judging people and comparing peoples’ sex lives to other peoples’ sex lives, especially when I realised I couldn’t draw up a slut table (ie is being married to 5 men less bad than cohabiting with 5 men just because she’s married? Or even worse? Is 2 one night stands in a month better or worse than 3 in 5 weeks? If it’s with someone you know is that better than with a stranger? Having 3 casual boyfriends in 6 months better or worse than 1 one night stand?) There are no answers to these questions – at least, none that aren’t debatable and controversial and probably case-specific.

The guy has requested to be called Donny on this blog, which he will read because he thinks it’s interesting.

I don’t know what Roland’s reaction to this will be, if he sees this post.

I was waiting outside the Festival Theatre, Southbridge, Edinburgh. This was on Saturday. Donny was going to pick me up to do a photoshoot. It was a mostly fashion shoot with some lingerie and artistic nude. He was taking me to his home, which I’d agreed to because I’d seen his portfolio and knew that other models had worked with him, so he was a real photographer and not a serial killer posing as a photographer. Heh.

Anyway, Donny picked me up. He had black hair – my fave hair colour on a man – good looking, maybe late twenties (I found out later he’s 30). He drove us to his flat in a fairly affluent area of Edinburgh. Donny told me he’s a computer guy although his degree was in something totally different.

In his house, he started taking fashion shots, and a couple of implied nude shots, and I changed several times. They were all fashion poses. Donny seemed very happy with how good the photos were. He said I have a natural talent for modelling and that I photograph very well, both of which is exactly what Roland said. So god knows why I hardly ever photograph well in ordinary pics. Then, after about 45 minutes he took a few implied nude shots and told me to look shocked and like I was screaming “Nooo” and covering up. He said I did this really well. It made me giggle though, and I said it was just like my fantasies and it was weird.

He said he needed a break cos his arm was tired, and I drank the Lucozade he’d bought me at the corner shop before arriving at his flat. He went into the kitchen to smoke. Then Donny asked me what my fantasies were and I told him, very briefly – spanking, government torture, rape, etc. He wanted to know how long I’d had them, I told him they arrived fully developed when I was 9 years old. I asked if he ever had any fantasies. Donny said he had to think about it for a bit, because I’m so open-minded that he thinks nothing will shock me but he wants to shock me. Then he came back out of the kitchen and told me about a dream of going into a van full of naked ladies in it when he was 7 which made him really happy, and backl then he “didn’t even know what naked ladies were for”. Sounded like a mobile brothel (like a mobile library) to me!



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Slutty dreams

Ah, ‘slut’. The perfect word. I am a slut. What kind of disgusting slut would sell her body? And not only agree to such a thing, persuaded by a much older company director, but actually go to a nude modelling shoot to see if this is the right man to sell her virginity to. It’s absolutely disgusting. Dirty. Sordid. Unseemly. Naughty. Bad girl. Obscene. Licentious. Libidinous. Perverted.

I hope by the end of it I feel used and dirty. I tried to cry when I ran away from Roland and he cornered me, demanding that I could either give him a blowjob now or do it “with a sore bottom” [back in a sec]

Right, where was I? Oh, yes. I wanted to cry, but I cannot cry at will, something that I regret. I can act very well and can lie very well, but I cannot cry, though I can fake crying and people will believe it. (Then Roland was all like, ‘If you don’t want to then we don’t have to’ which left me feeling insulted; what gave him the idea I couldn’t do it?? Except that I attempted to run away from him, then later did run upstairs where he cornered me). Then he was all like, ‘Are you really sure?’ about six times in different words. Why didn’t he just stab my bum with the knife and carry me downstairs, take the knife out, put it to my throat and tell me to get sucking? (Note: this is not a serious rhetorical question, unlike in 50 shades where Ana wakes up in a hotel and is all ‘Why didn’t Christian rape me while I was unconscious?’)

Anyway, the point of this post is that the other night I had a dream…a song to sing. I was in a student flat while a stunning boy one or two years older than me, with black, floppy hair (which I like) had sex with me. He knew I was a virgin. It hurt a bit but went on for a long time and was great. After that we drank coffee and agreed not to see each other again because we had fulfilled our agreement. Then I woke up in bed, realizing that I’d been dreaming about last night, took a morning-after pill, checked the time, realized I should’ve taken it before, wondered if I should go get emergency contraception, and went back to sleep.

Then I REALLY woke up and after a few minutes of worrying about this and deciding to go to the doctor for emergency contraception, I realised it’d been a dream.

I think the dream was showing me/was my brain showing me what would’ve happened if I hadn’t sold my virginity. That I could’ve had my dream man as a hookup but not been paid. My brain was idealizing the encounter – dream boy, no commitments. However, it seems that my subconcious thinks that unplanned pregnancy or stress would have resulted from it. I wonder if my subconcious was telling me why I must not annoy Roland – “Even if you found your dream man, you would be unhappy because you lost the opportunity to sell yourself”. -As Freud would say. He does oversimplify things and read sex into absolutely everything. However, in my case it’s warranted as the dream was about sex. And my dream was telling me that Roland is the opposite; someone I find deeply unattractive, but with whom I would apparently not get pregnant (for some reason). Or was the dream telling me that pregnancy from a student would only bring anxiety, whereas pregancy from Roland (if carried to term) would bring lots of money (child support)?

Possible meanings of the dream:

If I have sex I risk unplanned pregnancy

Sex with someone other than Roland is risky/Roland is safe

You can have a dream boy and stress, or Roland and money

You should get pregnant by Roland to get child support

At all costs avoid getting pregnant

There are so many methods of contraception that you won’t get pregnant

Losing your virginity will result in anxiety

You should break the deal and lose virginity to someone your age

If you don’t sell yourself to Roland, you will be stressed

Do not be a virgin when you have vaginal sex with Roland

Get pregnant by a good-looking man so your baby will look good, then tell Roland he is the daddy

If you don’t love Roland, as he claims, you shouldn’t have sex with him

The deal is a bad idea – you should hook up once and no more







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“Good bang for the buck”: the Gentleman’s guide to texting prostitutes

If it wasn’t for the suicide distraction, would I have pushed for a higher amount once he said it’d be a few days to make the film? After all, I was hoping for 5/6k for a day of being with him (plus another couple of days – the “if we could see each other more often” clause). I don’t know. But the deal has been done, and what has been done may not be undone. Forgive my ramblings; I am suffering from Roland withdrawal; sex IS a drug, and I understand sex addiction now…I feel so restless and frustrated. Reading Baudelaire’s poetry makes it excrutiatingly worse, as does eating ice cream, or hearing a sigh, or the wind moving branches, it is as if my entire body is very sensitive. I feel like banging my head on the wall in sheer frustration. When I think of him I pant slightly. I move my hand down my side, over my belly and bottom and imagine it’s his hand. I used to feel my curves as a 12 and 13 year old, delighting in my changing, slim, curved figure, but this is different – my hand doesn’t follow the natural curve of my side, but skitters randomly, feeling and touching. There is no relief from touching other places either, which is odd, as there used to be. Maybe he slipped time-delay viagra into my drink.

I remember sitting across from him and deciding to let him open negotiations; it is easier to control a negotiation if the other party opens it. That chicken was delicious. I just remembered that before we ordered, he said “don’t worry, I’ll get this” and yeah I knew he probably would, but that did have a calming effect on me and I was then able to actually choose what I wanted instead of staring at it in horror looking for the cheapest thing that wouldn’t make me look like a cheapskate. (Because if he had refused to pay me more than 3k I’d have wasted like £30 for nothing).

Roland had booked a hotel for us, but then had to cancel at the last minute. This was over a week ago. I was all psyched up for it. Anyway here are our most recent texts:

Hi, I wish you were here. Do you miss me? I do, because my brain associates you with pleasure and money. And for your personality, of course. It’s not all about the money, just mostly about that. But I chose you for your character. I wish I was Queen Tut, it would be so much fun interrogating my enemies. Teeheehee.


Hey r u free on the 11 or 12th? I’m getting really frustrated over here. I thought of going up on the rooftops and screaming “Rolaaaaand! I need sex! Rolaaaaand!” into the depths of the mystic night but then I figured you wouldn’t hear me over the […] mile distance so I wrote you this text instead. [Here, the mating call of the female is expressed in emotive imagery to entice the male and keep a guise of proprietary.]


I’m free anytime exept the 5th, 6th and 9th. This is torture (and not the good kind). xx [Notice how humour is used to disguise the desperation of the mating call and titillate the male with thoughts of s/m torture].

Roland: My dear, I would not want you to be tortured in this way. But also I do not wish it to end in a train wreck of fantasy hitting reality. As I said, you have the potential to be dynamite. But if bang there must be…then let there be light! What are you doing next thursday (12th)? [Roland’s talents for taking pictures of naked women in s/m poses photography are alluded to here with the bang/light imagery. The use of the coloqiualism ‘bang’ denotes a cultured man of the world.]

Me: You 😀 We could plan the film’s plot, characters and setting etc. I really want it to be well made, a project with a clear plan and goal, i dont want it to be a train wreck either.

P.S. That bang/light thing actually made me LOL

U want me overnight? [ An example of the delicate, yet eloquent phrasing in this most sensitive of questions, as espoused by a graduate of a prestigious Law school.]

Roland: Yes I would say overnight would be cool. Might as well make you earn your money – I’m sure you’ll give good bang for the buck baby yeah 🙂 . [Notice the use of alliteration to give the sentence better ‘flow’ and emphasise the financial and erotic nature of prostitution. The use of this poetic tool befits a man who graduated from one of the top 2 British universities. Also, in keeping with the fine traditions of his English heritage, a gentlemanly conduct is assumed at all times when texting his ladyfriend.]

Me: Course I will 🙂 And really, Lord [Roland’s surname] that is most unseemly. I happen to be wearing a purity ring that just arrived from the states. And you will have to successfully torture me to get that blowjob – I mean, oral-genital stimulation. [Here, the female’s background in Law affords her the foresight to enjoin the male to exercise the proper restraint in pressing his advantage, in case he may forget himself in the hotel room he has acquired for the sole purpose of degradation, exploitation, and perverse sadomasochistic sex acts which will be filmed. The female knows her virginity will not yet be taken on the 12th, because they have not yet worked out the most entertaining and humiliating way in which to take it.]


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