The Dogging Diaries
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The Dogging Diaries - XI free porn video
Diary Entry: March 2009
When am I ever going to learn? I'm a slut. A slut. A whore. It is
all that I ever will be. I have built myself - and let others build me
- inside and out to be a sexual being. I've wanted to be a sex bomb
since I looked at those magazines years ago. I learned the skills from
Jack and I got the body from Ryan. The desire came from within. This
is what I wanted and now that I've got it I've rebelled against that,
looking for more. I'm so focused on being a sexy wife or girlfriend
when all anyone really wants from me is to be sexy and to give up my
body easily. I need to get it through my bimbo head that's all I'm good
for. Ryan isn't going to marry me. He basically said so last night and
besides, how dumb do I have to be to think this guy would marry a girl
who gives it up all around town? I've had hundreds of cocks inside of
me and gallons of cum in me and on me. I'm destined to have hundreds
more and gallons more. It's what I wanted. Now I have it. So why so
serious?
I'm a slut and that's all I'll ever be, so I better start acting the
part every day and just plunging down that road because if I'm dumb
enough to think some guy is going to want me as a wife I'm out of my
fucking mind. Nobody is going to want me like that. So fine. Fuck
them. Rise up and be what they want. Rise up and be what you've always
wanted. Fucking party, girl. Now. Fuck them all.
End Diary Entry
Diary Entry: March 2009
I am a coke whore. I fucking love the stuff and I'll do anything anyone
wants when they have it and I want it. Why? Why the fuck am I so into
it? I'm not an addict, it's cool, I feel alive, right? Skinny bitches.
It's what the skinny bitches do. Am I one of them now? It makes me
feel so fucking sexy. So dependent. So dirty. I fucking need it.
Ryan took me out "dogging" again (his term) last night. He got me
fucked up on coke (I let him) and dressed me like a whore (I let him)
and drove me down to the rest area and had me suck and fuck until
everyone was satisfied. I let him - and I let them all. You can have
me. Just give me some coke and then tell me I'm pretty and make me show
you my cunt and then fuck it until you cum. Don't worry about me. I'm
here for your use. Can I have some more coke please? How many cocks
are left to take? Let me do my lines and feel better about myself.
Skinny sluts. Bet the scale moves another pound tomorrow.
End Diary Entry
Diary Entry: April 2009
Just be pretty. That's all I have to do. Be pretty and open my legs.
Be their fantasy in lingerie and high heels. Show off my body. Give it
to them. If there's a cock, suck it and let them fuck me with me it.
Worship their cum and let it coat me. Let them paint my face with it.
Submit to them and let it spray all over me. Debase myself for their
pleasure and they'll give me anything I want. So much better if you
give me that white powder that takes me to decadence. The more I do the
more I can take. The dirtier I am.
In the last four days I've taken thirteen cocks in public including
Ryan's. I can't name or even see the other twelve guys. I was just an
open tgirl pussy to them and they are just faceless cocks. Big, small,
single, married, black, white I have no idea. I've done countless lines
of blow. I do it all the time now. Is it the hurt? Is it my figure?
I've let others blow lines off of my near naked body and use it for
their pleasure and the pleasure of my boyfriend.
Ryan loves these times when he takes me out dogging and in return he has
spent over $11,000 on me. Versace, Gucci, Prada, Louboutin. That's
what's in my closet now. If I suck and I fuck in public for his
enjoyment he will buy me anything I want. It's only when I look at the
labels and see the receipts that I realize how good a fuck I am. No one
pays that kind of money unless the pussy is real good - and mine is
evidently the sweetest. His fantasy is a dirty whore and as a result I
wear what he wants and do what he wants when he's around. I wear cheap
and slutty $30 club dresses that show off my tits and ass for him. When
he's gone I have my closet full of expensive things to fuss over. I
climb out of my Mercedes in two-thousand dollar dresses and thousand
dollar shoes. I wear Prada shades and have an 8-ball in my purse. Its
right next to my $60 mascara. It pays good money to suck random dick in
public. I'll be back to the surgeon next week for Botox, collagen and
whatever else Ryan wants done. Just be pretty.
End Diary Entry
Let me back up because a lot happened around this time that wasn't
captured in my diary. I made mention of Ryan not wanting to marry me
and then never explained it a couple entries ago. Things had gotten out
of control. He was living out his fantasy through me and my body and
actions. We had a huge fight one night, because he admitted that things
were different between us and going in a different direction. I don't
recall the exact words he used beyond liking things the way they were
and not being prepared to get married [for those who may not know, it is
legal in Massachusetts for any two people to get married]. He didn't
want it anymore. He had seen what it was like to be with a party girl.
It titillated him beyond anything he could have ever imagined, but it
also destroyed us. I was so heavy into drug use at the time - we both
were - that I'm sure we weren't thinking clearly. The stuff was
everywhere, more than any two people could do in a long time, so I had
plenty at my disposal. It got to the point where he would be gone for
long stretches - multiple days at a time - and I had nothing to do. So
I'd do my best to look my best; exercise, tanning, grooming, shopping
and then I'd have all night to just sit and drink wine and do drugs
waiting for him to possibly come home. Sometimes he would.
To be honest, my feelings on Ryan had changed as well. I was crushed
that we weren't going to be together for the long term and felt
betrayed; as if I didn't get what I signed up for. That changed the way
I felt about him. I should have pushed harder for monogamy.
It's important to note that these last couple of entries truly did sum
up how I was feeling. I felt this great surge of strength once I got
over us not being together - maybe it was a weight lifting. I had
resolved the situation in my heart and head - and focused on getting my
kicks sexually and, to be honest, getting as much materially out of it
as I could. We were leaches on one another. He tried to wring every
last drop of sexual decadence as he could out of me and I let him keep
oiling my erotic machine with clothes and money and drugs. Tit for tat.
My tits for his pleasure, his money for mine. These were some of the
most fruitful months for both in my life.
It's fucked up reading this stuff to be honest, because I can feel my
confusion and my anger. I can feel the drugs too. Coke makes the highs
and lows incredibly sharp and leaves the middle squishy. The middle is
bland. The good times are amazing - you're a Perfect 10 model - and the
lows are the deepest trench - you're a worthless whore. And sometimes,
like in this next entry, I felt like both.
Diary Entry: April 2009
Men fawn. I own them. My hair is a sexy dark cherry, my brown eyes
like a doe. I can bat my long eyelashes and get whatever I want. I
paint my face like a man's fantasy. Dark eyes, highlighted cheeks, some
bronzer and cherry lips. My makeup is striking, but not hard. It fits
my face and all that glitters is gold. The hoops in my ears beg to be
pulled on, while a stiff cock glides past my bee-stung lips and down my
throat. I look 25 thanks to multiple surgeries, Botox, collagen,
microderm abrasion and countless other beauty techniques. My DD tits
swell from my chest and my shoulders are always back, daring you to
stare at my erect nipples. My waist is tight and flat, my hips plump
but not fat, giving me delicious curves that men cream over. My ass and
legs are toned and can wrap around you like silk. My pussy is a wet
dream; honeyed and fresh and always willing to take a hard dick inside
its velvety chamber. My feet are sexy, proportionate and made for
stilettos.
I wear very little. My clit is small and needs little cover. I can
tuck my small chestnuts inside my cavity and a simple, spaghetti g-
string can support my clit. I love the feel of a pair of panties
splitting my ass. My legs are silky and smooth when bare, but I often
dress them in the sheerest black thigh highs. Bras barely cover my
tits, when I wear them at all.
I smell like vanilla and honey. I am constantly tanned. I wear a
Playboy bunny anklet to call their attention to my spike heels and when
they fuck me I leave my shoes on, giving the man his fantasy of fucking
a pinup.
I am an object to be used; no more, no less. You can have me but it
comes with a price. If you meet my figure you can have your tgirl porn
star and she'll do anything you want. You can treat her however you
want. Feed her your cock or your friend's cocks or a stranger's cock.
The more the better, without a care in the world for disease or violence
or worse. Ply her with drugs. Buy her everything and she will focus
only on her body and your needs. For a price. Men fawn. They own me.
End Diary Entry
Diary Entry: May 2009
"Slutty TGirl Will Take All Cumers." That's the subject of the ad Ryan
ran on Craigslist yesterday. He posted that I'd be at a hotel in Newton
and would send the room number to all serious replies. Then he attached
a couple of pictures of me done up like a hooker and taking cocks in my
mouth and pussy.
He brought me to the hotel and I changed into a bra, panties and heels.
Then we waited for the first of however many random guys to show up and
fuck me. I ended up taking seven loads between my face and my cunt.
Ryan took pictures the entire time. Once the line of guys had been
satisfied he fucked me deep, all of their cum mixing together in my
bottom. This isn't safe for me and he doesn't seem to care.
Then I cleaned myself up and he took me shopping, my reward for being
his bitch as the cum of perfect strangers ran down my supple thighs.
End Diary Entry
Diary Entry: May 2009
This time I didn't even argue or let it bother me. I'm a slut and this
is what sluts do. So when he woke me up and told me he had a day
planned I got out of bed and jumped into the shower without waiting for
the details. It's all the same anyway. I dress provocatively and he
brings the randoms to fuck my cunt. I do some coke and get all sexed up
and at that point any man can have me. That's what high-maintenance
skinny bitches do, right? I weigh 122 pounds. Why don't I feel like
them?
Today, Ryan dressed me in a hot pink, cinched front mini halter dress
and took me to a porn shop. I was pleased about this because I wanted
some new toys anyway. He paraded me through the store for several
minutes, making sure I made a huge spectacle of myself - tits out, ass
out, lots of bending at the waist. He even made me raise my voice and
say "oh my god I just need a cock so bad" within earshot of five other
men, each one a worse stereotype of the porn shop lingerer than the
next. These are the guys he's going to let fuck me? These fucking peep
show degenerates? I'm not a piece of high-priced ass, I'm a common
street whore.
Ryan brought me back out to the car and told me to get myself ready. I
frantically chopped out three huge lines of coke and snorted them. I
felt the drugs hit my brain, felt the familiar nasal drip and choked
back a dry heave. I sniffed violently to clear my nose and felt my head
spin. It settled and playing over and over in my mind was "You're the
dirtiest, most desirable girl in the world." Yes, I fucking am.
I hiked up my dress, slid my panties off and lubed my pussy for my day's
first cock. Ryan went back in and evidently told the other customers I
was available and ready. He spent the next couple of hours walking
people to and from the porn shop ot fuck the waiting tgirl hole in the
car. I was in the back and he'd open the door for them, they'd climb in
and I'd go to work on their zipper. I'd suck them for a while and then
turn and offer my ass to whoever was with me at the time. I ended up
taking four loads.
End Diary Entry
Diary Entry: May 2009
More dogging last night. With a fucking hot twist too.
"This time without me," Ryan said as I was getting ready. He chose a
black see-through mesh minidress with a sweetheart neck and 5" peep-toe
pumps, my cherry red toenails on display. I skipped the bra and chose a
black g-string. I could see my nipples through the dress in the mirror.
Fuck it. Then I painted my face with dark plums and silvers and used
plum lipstick with black lipliner. My lips were fat and plump and the
contrast with the liner left no doubt what my mouth was for.
Ryan wanted to take me to a bar, sit me there alone in my hoochie-mama
dress and watch guys hit on me.
There were rules though. First, he only gave me a $10 bill, so I could
get my first drink on my own but after that a gentleman was going to
have to buy them for me. Second, I needed to take three different guys
to the rest room - men's or women's didn't matter, whatever was less
conspicuous - and get them off with my cunt. I could suck them or
stroke them, but only to get them ready to enter me. He wanted me
fucked good and hard. Third, he wanted proof after each one so I had to
let them fuck me and then plug myself - in their presence - so I could
save the cum for Ryan and he could watch it leak out of me. Fourth, I
couldn't leave the bar and go to their car or apartment; it had to
happen in a rest room on the premises.
For my cooperation, which frankly is easy for a slut like me, I'd get a
shopping trip the next day (today). Fine. Game on.
I lobbied Ryan to allow me to wear a pair of thigh highs and different
shoes. He agreed and I slid a pair of black fishnet stockings up my
legs and a pair of black ankle boots with 5" heels. Even though it was
pushing summer and I'd stick out in thigh highs, I figured it was best
to leave no doubt in a guy's mind what I was all about. When I sat down
and seductively crossed my legs, I wanted them to see the hem of my
dress, then my bare thighs and then my hosiery. I wanted to look like a
hooker. Mission accomplished.
We got to [Boston Bar] around 7:30 and the place was pretty dead.
Whatever. There was no way I wasn't going to get this done. I was
pretty coked up and had already had a couple glasses of wine so I wasn't
feeling any pain and was already horny as fuck when I got there. I'm
sure the smell of "desperate for dick" was flooding from each pore.
I dropped my Gucci purse on the bar with a slam, making certain the
noise turned heads along the bar and at the high-top tables behind me.
Then I ordered an $8 glass of chardonnay, handicapping myself to my one
and only drink. I could have ordered a $5 glass of the house, but there
was no fucking way I was leaving myself an out to get another drink.
You want to watch me work, motherfucker?
It didn't take long for Gene or Rick or whoever the fuck he was to come
over from the other end of the bar. I'll go with Gene. I looked over
casually at Ryan when Gene came over and introduced himself. Ryan
smiled at me. Fuck you.
He introduced himself and asked if he could sit down. Then the fucking
lines came. What's a pretty girl like you doing all alone? Are you
from around here? I kept waiting for him to ask me what my sign was.
Didn't matter. I had a sex bet to win and getting a fucking from Gene -
slightly overweight, dressed OK, dark hair, stupid mustache - would
bring me one step closer.
"Great dress," he said, checking me out up and down.
"Thanks."
"You're gorgeous. What's your name, by the way?" he asked.
I flipped my hair over my ear and leaned in close to Gene, letting him
getting a whiff of my honeyed vanilla. "You are so fucking sexy," I
cooed. "I want you, and it definitely doesn't matter what my name is."
Gene smiled and looked around the room like he was being set up, which,
I suppose, he was.
I leaned in again and licked his ear. "If I tell you something crazy,
can you keep it to yourself and promise me you won't make a big deal out
of it."
He loved the co-conspirator angle. "Sure," he said.
"I can't accept that," I flirted. "I need a yes. A firm yes." He
talked right over me and said "yes" but I wasn't done yet. "If I tell
you this, I want you to sit there for a second and take it all in. If
you're OK with it, good things will happen. If not, I can't have any
reaction and then you need to walk away."
I put my hand on his thigh.
"OK," he said. "Yes."
I leaned in close. "I'm a tgirl. Do you know what that means?"
He nodded his head, no.
"It means I'm a shemale."
As if I didn't care for that term enough ... "So you're ..." he leaned in ....
"a chick with a dick?"
I squeezed his thigh. "Exactly."
He looked at me and to his credit he did what I said and didn't react
for a full 15 seconds. He was staring straight ahead for the first five
or so seconds and then he looked me up and down again for the last ten.
"I don't believe it," he said, a smile crossing his face.
I rubbed this thigh some more.
He leaned in again, still smiling. "I think that's hot."
"You do?" I smiled.
"Yes," he answered.
"Then I'd like you to take me into the bathroom and give me the ride of
my life."
He paused. Slightly dumbstruck.
"How are we going to do that?" he asked. Trust me, Rick/Gene is a
fucking idiot. And I know idiots.
"Walk into the bathroom alcove in 30 seconds," I said as I grabbed my
purse and told the bartender I'd be right back. Then I walked
seductively towards the rest rooms, making sure every cock in the place
saw the piece of pussy that had just walked by.
I checked the ladies room first and there was two girls in there talking
about something at the mirrors. I paused for a second to see if they
were on their way out, but there didn't seem to be any stopping the
conversation, so I checked the men's room. Empty.
Gene was an idiot, but he could tell time and arrived right on cue a
second later. I took his hand and led him into the furthest stall. He
locked the door and I dropped to my knees. I lowered his zipper and
reached in with my plum colored, manicured nails, taking his cock out
and feeling it stiffen under my touch. Then I licked my lips and gently
took him into my mouth. He hardened quickly - about five inches -
moaning from my skills and steadying himself against the locked door.
Using both hands I first undid his belt and button, letting his pants
fall to his knees. Then I reached into my purse and, with his dick
still in my mouth, fished around blindly for the tube of lube in my
purse. I found it, rolled my skin tight dress up to my waist, slid my
g-string to one side and greased my cunt for Gene's cock.
The bathroom door opened and we fell silent. I looked up at Gene, his
cock deep inside my mouth and I could read the panic on his face. I
took his cock out of my mouth and quietly, as quietly as I could with
click-clacking 5" heels on, got up on the toilet seat, showing Gene my
ass and using the interruption to seductively slide my panties off.
I heard the toilet flush and made a mental note not to fuck the random
guy who just left without washing his hands. Gene and I were alone
again.
I climbed off the toilet, spread my thigh-high covered legs and bent at
the waist, running a seductive finger along my pussy as I did. Gene
stepped into me and I grabbed his cock, stroked it several times and
guided his hard meat into me.
He wasn't exactly packing a ton of heat, but he definitely knew what to
do with it, taking his time with me until he established a rhythm and
then giving me the fucking goods once he did.
I pressed my hand up against the tiled bathroom wall for leverage and
let Gene take my cunt at his pace. I swooned when I felt both of his
hands go to my hips and felt his full force driving into me. God I love
it when a man puts his hands on my hips. Take me to heaven! I reached
between my legs and caressed his balls and he moaned as I did so. I
flipped my hair back and turned my head to him, enjoying the view of
this stranger pumping away on my honeyed tgirl pussy.
I felt his hands move to my legs and he caressed my inner thighs as he
fucked me. My body was fully awake now and I moaned two or three times
under his assault. I was being taken, exactly as I wanted, exactly as
Ryan wanted, by this man who will hopefully never forget the t-slut he
fucked in the bathroom.
He let out another moan and I pushed hard against him, bringing him to
new heights and stirring the orgasm that was building within. I had to
be quiet and let his cum build and explode without any dirty talk, so I
reached behind and cupped his balls again, helping his orgasm along and
finally pushing him past the point of no return. I felt his body
stiffen and some spittle landed on my lower back as with a grunt he
erupted inside me. I rode out his orgasm with him, smiling to myself
when I felt his cockhead flaring inside me as it delivered it's payload
into my velvety chamber. Then I mentally crossed off number one from my
fuck list.
Gene held onto me for a moment before he gathered himself. As he did so
I reached into my purse and took out my butt plug. I showed it to Gene
silently (he raised an eyebrow) and then I drove the plug home, locking
his cum inside my bottom until I could show Ryan the evidence.
Gene smiled at me and waited as I slid my g-string back up my legs and
adjusted my dress. I put a heel on the toilet seat and looked over the
partition. Still empty. I kissed Gene with a peck on the lips and slid
out of the men's room. I detoured into the ladies room just long enough
to fix my hair and makeup before returning to the bar. Gene was nowhere
to be seen, but Ryan was lightly clapping his hands when I returned.
He cocked an elbow at me from across the bar and I realized he wanted to
see the evidence now. I was aggravated that each session was going to
require two trips to the powder room - one for the fuck and one for the
proof - but a bet's a bet and if he wanted to see my cooze leaking cum
I'd show him.
I checked both doors again and while the chattering chicks were gone,
some older lady was in there taking her sweet time, so we slipped back
into the men's room - different stall - for the evidence check.
"Was it good?" Ryan asked, as I hiked up my dress and showed him the
plug.
"It was good," was all I answered. Then I smiled seductively at him and
asked, "so are you ready or do you trust me?"
"I want to see."
I kissed him on the lips and put one leg up on the toilet seat. Then I
bent at the waist and teased the plug in my pussy a couple of times
before slowly, suggestively sliding it out of me.
"Oh, that's so fucking hot," he said.
"You like?" I teased.
"I love," he countered. Then, "cream pie it into this."
I looked at him and he was holding a glass from the bar.
"You are a dirty, dirty boy," was all I said. He had upped the ante on
me and I was fine with it. I have complete confidence in my cunt to
deliver the goods at any time. I put the glass under my pussy and
pushed out. Ryan was hunched over, waiting for the payload. I pushed
again and heard him moan and I knew Gene's milk was now flowing from my
pot.
I let the milky trickle run for another few moments and, knowing what
was coming next, took the glass out of Ryan's hand and let the cum slide
into my mouth.
"You are the dirtiest girl in the world," he said.
I smiled, shooed him away and chopped out a couple of lines on the back
of the toilet. I enjoyed this; no shame, no regrets and smiled to
myself as I pondered the cocaine I was in the middle of doing. Nothing
shocks you, I thought to myself. Maybe I am one of those skinny
bitches.
I finished up, popped a mint and took my seat back at the bar.
It took me another four hours to find my other two takers. There were
some near misses in between and a few guys were not happy when they
learned I was trans, but nothing ever got out of control and my second
fuck was so good I came twice during it. By the time I left I was
fucked up - high and drunk and on wobbly legs from dirty bathroom sex
with strangers.
I won the bet, so Ryan took me shopping today. We spent over five grand
and there isn't a single thing I'll keep. Not that I'd ever tell him,
but it all goes back tomorrow for a full refund. I love it when he pays
cash.
End Diary Entry
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