The Inner Slut

The Inner Slut has moved to a new home! She posts here now.

It's been more than a year since I started this blog. And what a year it's been! I can't believe that it's drawing to a close. I can't believe the friends I've made through my ramblings. I can't believe the ripples, small as they may seem, that this blog has caused through this wonderland called the net. Amazing.

Lessons affirmed

Define yourself Or your blog. Your universe is what you make of it. It's only as exciting, or grand, or limited, as you make it. The only walls that exist are those in your head.

Be true Your definition of self is your vision thereof. Grand visions pull you toward greatness. However, it's not self-aggrandizement which is delusional. Needless to say, greatness in self is totally grounded in reality. It's pushing the envelop, breaking your limits; it's beyond living on the edge. It's bursting out of your shell and living your life the way you want to live it.

Be strong Assert yourself according to your vision of yourself. If you're a slut, the world will just have to live with it. Living according to your rules doesn't mean wanton abandonment of all rules; it means living with yourself and in consideration of others, creating a precarious balancing act of self and society. It's the perspective that changes, from society's view to one that is decidedly individual. It's not that the first line of defense is not that there's something wrong with you; life, unlike driving, should be aggressive, not defensive. You should be a force that this world should reckon with, not the other way around. Assess, not judge, yourself and those who encounter you according to the rules by which you live.

Be proud Who made the rules, anyway? When people who don't share your views score you for your gall to be yourself instead of society's image of and for you, remember, it's a non-issue; you needn't explain yourself, as if seeking affirmation. Choose your battles; not every battle wins the war.

Whatever happened to....

Mara & her Frenchie Frenchie left early this year for parts unknown (to me) and Mara was, as expected, heartbroken. For a while. She's back in the game again, though, going out with young men who are tall, lean and horny.

Alex/Felix I have no idea. He's probably still doing groups and putting women down in his own sick way.

Nelson He's still around. We're good friends. No more playing the game for him as he's now more concerned with making a living.

BDSM Dropped it. Now, I'm a switch. Now, I go for pleasuring a guy's ass till he begs me to stop; riding a hard cock like my life depended on it; squirting cum before an amazed guy trying desperately not to explode. And now that I've mastered the carnal skills, I have more time and energy to channel in exploring the meta-carnal, that elusive spiritual moment of total communion, body and soul, heart and mind. Well, maybe the involvement of the heart is a lot more romantic than real but, there you go.

Francis He's still around. Still horny. And, like Nelson, now a good friend and more concerned with making a living. Like Nelson, he calls once in a while.

Groups; Art & Anna Art still tries to set up another session. I have misgivings, much as I like Anna; I like her more than I like being with her. I've given up groups, that's why. It doesn't appeal to me anymore.

Chris That Euro guy with the sexy, sexy legs! And good looking, too. Never heard from him again. Too bad.

Jake This one tried to set a meeting last week. I was, however, too busy with other things and wasn't in the mood. Also, I don't think I'd want to see him again. He's too young and too bland. Not quite the intelligent sex.

Terry After Marge broke up with this guy, I crossed him off my list as well. Not connecting, anyway. There's intelligence there, and skill -- so are a lot of walls, it's become insulting.

Bill, the X-G-Man He was supposed to have gotten in touch with me a month ago when he was in town but he never did. Like I said then, he probably didn't have enough time. However, I don't think I'll see him again. The last time I saw him, he looked so tired -- and old. Not much life there anymore. He looked like he was just living out of habit.

Jim & Rose Nelson's still seeing Rose, most probably. I'm not seeing them again as I've dropped the group thing.

Dale's BMW R1200GS He decided against getting one as he knew he wasn't ever going to have time to enjoy it, anyway. His new passion is digital photography.

New job That new job I got in June, writing decisions for an appellate court judge, I dropped. The staff were just too malicious. Especially the chief of staff who decided on a whim to hate me from day one.

Stew the Pilot Of the huge favorite, What A Release. Yeah, I know what you like to read and re-read over and over and over again...Anyway, I haven't heard from him again. Manila isn't in his regular flight plan so it's going to take another emergency lay-over in this city for The Inner Slut to get her lay from this guy.

Steve the Numbers Guy Haven't heard from him. He's been in touch with Marge more, though, but this girl started telling him about how she wanted something a bit more permanent and that, of course, scared the guy away. Typical.

State of The Inner Slut

At this point, this year-end, Dale and I getting closer the longer we see and talk to each other; Carl and I are waiting to get our life together in order. I'm hoping that Carl gets time to visit early next year but I'm not optimistic. His house in the city is up for sale; so is his business; and construction of the country house needs to get started.

Tom, on the other hand, has gone the way of Nelson. We're good friends, helping each other out, giving each other moral support and just being there to talk to.

Marge is still pissed with Tom, shifty-eyed, lying, immature Tom. Just the other day, I was on the phone with her. She'd been updated by Kaye, Tom's new friend. It appears that, during Tom's last visit, he had a threesome with Kaye and another new friend. Then, in the same week, he had a foursome with the same women and one of the women's boyfriend. Pretty busy week for Tom, what with trying to get new business, that trip to Davao, and me. So much for the unfairly jilted lover theory. For my part, I'm glad that Tom's sexual education is advancing. Who knows? This just might help him mature a bit more.

Cliff has fast become a good friend, a great sexual partner, and a professional mentor. He's coming back in February next year and wants to spend more time with me while he's in town. I'm looking forward to it.

More FAQ's

Do you write for a tabloid?
No, I'm not Xerex Xaviera online.

Are you a man?
Last time I looked, I was all woman. Can't have tits any more real than these...

What's your bra size?
38B. I wear brassieres with underwire for that full effect. Lots of cleavage. Works everytime.

Would you consider yourself pretty?
No, I consider myself lovely. I've been told often enough that my loveliness isn't the chocolate box type of beauty but something that grows on the beholder. I come across as very simple yet elegant. To give you an idea: Tom loves my "creamy, white skin;" Cliff loves my "almond-shaped brown eyes;" Dale loves my "soft, full lips on a small rosebud of a mouth."

Do you join any chatrooms online?
No, I haven't time and I'm not that social.

Why don't you answer emails from your readers? Are you a snob?
I do answer emails from readers. Friendly note, though: my writing is not so far removed from my sexual exploits; it has to be intelligent. In that context, I suppose you can call me a snob. I don't suffer fools lightly. Comments left on my blog, however, are a different thing. I put up that comment tool so I should be prepared to allow readers freedom of expression. How that freedom is exercised is, however, up to the person commenting. Anonymity is never an excuse for disregarding common courtesy and decency. Unfortunately, most of us still have to mature in our use of the world wide web.

Can we chat online?
Sorry, but I feel very uncomfortable with the idea. Although I do exchange emails with a few readers, I don't do this on a regular basis. I would rather keep the level of mystique where it is now.

Happy Holidays, friends!

I met my Dale last Wednesday evening. It's been, what, a couple of months? Seems like it's getting to be a regular schedule, meeting me every other month. Oho! So what's this? A mistress complaining about the "schedule?" Unbelievable.

He does still call me up everyday. And he hasn't changed toward me. In fact, he's become more demonstrative. He kisses me a lot more now, and keeps me in his arms longer. I guess it's because we don't see each other so often anymore. He has become very busy with work. I sense that work has now become the exciting thing in his life at this point. I totally envy him this. He's found what he likes to do and what he's good at, and he gets paid a lot of money to do it to boot.

Anyway.

He went for my breasts almost at once. He just loves them. Then we spent some time in the shower. I got to suck on his cock as long as I wanted, and kept sticking my tongue inside the foreskin. He loved that. And then, something new happened. I took his hard cock and used it on my clit. I had him against the wall, warm water pouring over us both; I had a knee up, rubbing his cock against my clit when, suddenly, I felt this hot gush of cum running down my thighs, down to my legs. I suppose Dale felt it, too, as he got all excited and turned me from him, bent me forward and started to fuck me from behind.

It didn't last long and we were soon back to me rubbing his cock against my clit and gushing hot cum down our legs. Exhausted, I knelt down and turned to sucking on his cock instead.


Finally, we towelled off and went back to the room. He ate me and ate me for what seemed like half an hour; we stopped only when he noticed that my phone was ringing. I had noticed it earlier but was determined to ignore it. I picked up my fone just as it stopped ringing, glanced at the number before I turned it off; it was my Carl.

What a heartbreak.

I gushed a lot of cum all over the bed, Dale working his magic fingers. Hot, fluid, wet cum. I found that when I relaxed just as I'm about to cum, it feels so much better when it gushes out. Two, three, four times, my Dale made me cum. It felt so satisfying, as if it came from the very depths of my being.

We rested a while, talking about this and that, Dale holding me in his arms. During this time, he had to take two fone calls, one from his staff and another from his boss. I think he felt unnerved taking a call from his boss with me in the room. It took a few minutes to get his mind back to fucking. Anyway, when he did, he asked me to play with his cock to make him cum.

I did and, at the same time, started playing with my clit as well. Oh, but that felt good. He watched appreciatively as I gushed all over my fingers. And then, he exploded all over my breasts. I came again as he was rubbing his cum all over me with his cock. It was just an incredible feeling. If I weren't so exhausted at that point, I could have gotten on my knees, played with my clit and splashed the sheets with yet more hot cum.

The Inner Slut certainly has this down to an art. She's very proud of herself. Yes, she is.

She's starting to scare me.

A couple, sometime lovers, sat opposite each other over cups of coffee. After an extended silence, the man asks, almost to himself, "What are we?"

The woman stirred, shifted in her seat, and answered, "Strangers."

---

The woman asked, "What are we?" The man, almost startled by the voice, answered, "Shouldn't we be getting along?"

---

The man asked, "What are we?" The woman answered, "Strangers," but her voice was so soft that the word dissipated in the cool evening air before it reached the man's ears.

---

The man asked the evening sky, "What are we?" The woman made no reply but said to herself, "What 'we'?" and smiled at the cool night breeze, flipping her hair back.

I'm not only back on track, I'm back into it as well.

Cliff is Dale five years ago. Short and stocky, thinning blond hair, very bright blue eyes. The difference is that Cliff's very much in touch with his intuitive side. That is what sets him apart from all the rest of the men I've met so far.

We met for coffee and talked for two hours. I found myself telling him things I don't even tell my friends. He has a very open and honest face, and a quiet manner that just make you feel secure and comfortable. We talked about personal philosophies, politics, the war in Iraq, and sex, of course.

The next time we met, we had dinner at his hotel room and, again, talked. This time, we realized that we shared the same principles, viewed ourselves in practically the same light, lived life as one adventure after the next. We thought alike; yet, not so alike as to be boring. At one point, I was getting worried that his intuitive nature would be a problem, sexually. I was worried needlessly.

He didn't make the first move; I did. Another surprising thing. All throughout the evening, I had moved from the couch, to the dining table, to the bed. Still, he didn't make any initiatory moves. It was when we reached that moment of being all talked out that I moved into his arms and kissed him deeply.

That was all he needed.

His cock was not as big as that of some of the guys I've had, but what Cliff lacked in size, he made up for in passion. There was a lot of kissing and petting and hugging. And this is not to say that he didn't feel good inside me; he did. He was hard and hot and just right. The first time I took his cock in my hand and rubbed the head on my clit, he just moaned in pleasure.

That first round, I didn't squirt. Just a lot of cream and small orgasms. The second round, I got that familiar tingling in my clit and stopped Cliff from fucking me. I got him to just stay on his hands and knees above me, took his cock and rubbed the head on my clit. That did it. I squirted. He was so amazed and turned on that he pushed his cock in while I was still squirting cum, and fucked me long and hard. I thought he wasn't ever going to stop but he finally pulled out his cock and came on my tummy.

Tired out, we laid back on the bed, too exhausted to even talk. After a while, we had some wine, talked a bit more. I was relieved. I thought that all this stupid depression was getting in the way of my reaching explosive orgasms; apparently not. We were at it for forty minutes.

Saturday morning, I saw Cliff again and, after an hour of sharing life stories and realizations, he took me in his arms and started kissing me all over. The next forty-minute round. This time, my clit didn't need any more stimulating.

Cliff was fucking me doggie-style. When I felt that tingling start, I pulled away and, while on my knees, rubbed my clit and squirted cum on the sheets. Cliff gently pushed me back down and fucked me till he came on my tummy. But this time, while he was squeezing the cum from his cock, I rubbed my clit again and squirted so much more than the first time. He loved it. What's more, I was in awe of myself. This was one time that I was control of things. I controlled the way I was pleasured; how and when I was going to cum; when I was going to leave. Ironically, it was Cliff who made it happen, as he allowed me to be in control.

I don't think it was because he didn't know what had to be done. He knew that I needed to be in control to gain a complete sense of self. He recognized this need in me. But he needed to remind me of his importance in the whole thing, and he reminded me very gently. At one point, he told me to look at him as I sat on him, riding his cock, enjoying the sensation of tightening my pussy muscles around his cock. He took my face in his hands and held it, and we fucked face to face.

What made it so sexy? The intelligence, the openness, the warmth, the sharing. We shared on so many levels, professional, personal, sexual, spiritual. I was all talked out and all fucked out. Sex is, truly, not physical; it is more an intellectual act than anything else.