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Archive for December, 2010|Monthly archive page

Dr Pee

In Adventure, American Dominatrix, bathroom, BDSM, deviance, dominatrix, Family, fetish, Golden Showers, Massachusetts, pissing, politics, sexual politics, Widow Centauri on December 20, 2010 at 11:11 pm

I left the club at 1:00 in the morning. I called to confirm and headed to Boston.

I grew up in hospitals, my mother was a nurse. most people dislike hospitals, I love them, I love the way they smell. antiseptic. clean, like the smell of disease, washed away. it reminds me of my home. I am sure that when my mother dies I will go to hospitals and sniff the air to remind me of the way she smelled when I was a child.

After a two hour drive and a surprisingly small amount of getting lost. I pull into the hospital parking area. It’s the middle of the night and I call this guy and have him come down to get me. He is a resident, living and working at the hospital in an attempt to get through medical school. When he gets downstairs he is in scrubs, with his little name badge hanging around his neck. I have a full face of hooker makeup and high heels on. I must look like I just came from a strip club. It didn’t occur to me to tone it down, I was in a hurry, a hurry to get several hours across the state. I look whorish and the guards at the hospital check stop notice but say nothing, they let the doctor and this lady of the night pass by without a word.

We head to the service elevator, large enough for a gurney, we head upstairs and down a few halls through some doors that clearly announce that only hospital employees are allowed to be there. I’m way to comfortable in hospitals. We enter his room, it has his name on a little placard on the door. I think to myself “he must be so excited to be at this stage in his career, living in the hospital, oy!”

His tiny room is dimly lit by a computer screen. Porn shines through the room, orgasm ruining porn. Giddy girl next door types putting their finger on the jiz as it starts to come out. Denying full release. “Will you do that to me?” He asks wantonly.

Take off your scrubs, I tell him. He strips. He is skinny, white, and fragile looking. His dick is rock hard and standing at attention. Get in the shower I tell him, and he heads to the tiny bathroom and sits on the floor of the toilet. I wash my hands as I am apt to do naturally, more so in hospitals. “Stroke your dick for me” I tell him and he starts pumping away. I take off my high-heeled boots and jeans. I climb up on his shoulders, holding onto the top of the shower stall. “Open your mouth” I tell him. He looks up at me with his mouth open like a baby bird. I shoot some piss into his anticipatory hole. “Swallow it,” I demand. He gulps it down and moans a cute little “ohhh.”

“You’re a dirty doctor having me come up her in the middle of the night to entertain your perverted needs” I tell him as I dribble a little piss out very very slowly. I let my stream drip and dribble like a faucet left on just a bit. “I am, oh yes I am,” he pants. “Open your mouth you perverted middle class white man” he opens wide, clearly hoping for a lot of piss to come gushing. I squirt out a good bit and when he goes to swallow it without being told I shoot a hard stream onto his face. He gasps. I laugh. “Stroke your dick and open your mouth” I tell him I fill his mouth and tell him “swallow it, don’t make a mess” he swallows and pumps and opens and I fill his mouth, letting it overflow and go into his nose a little. He gulps it down and pumps harder. “May I come?” He asks politely? “Not yet,” I tell him, “you have to finish your drink first.”

I climb down onto the floor of the shower and showed my pussy in his face. “Drink” I tell him as I gush my piss in his face. He pumps and moans and pumps and swallows. “Cum for me” I tell him, as he gulps my piss. He starts to convulse and I pull away, and grab his cock. Just as he starts to come I shove my pinky finger into his urethral opening. “Fuck you and your shitty little boy orgasm” I say to him. I lift my leg like a dog and piss in his face. With my finger in his hole and my piss still shooting all over his face I tell him “you’re a sad pathetic creature, a looser, a little piss drinking slut, why in the hell do you think I would really let you come?” I shoot piss up his nose and wait for him to stop shaking.

When I take my finger out of his hole a little jiz dribbles out and I shove my pussy back in his face, empty my bladder and get out of the shower. I dry off, wash my hands again and put my clothes back on. He is still sitting there, blissed out of his mind. “Thank you” he says, “that was fantastic.” I smile. He pulls himself up, dries himself off and I pat him on the head. “I can get out of here alone” I tell him, knowing that I can navigate the complex maze of hallways that we twisted and turned through to get to his little room. Hospitals are well marked. “He hands me a $100 tip says “thank you, that was so much fun,” and I disappear out into the brightly lit halls of polished and sanitized disease.

I feel so at home here.

Prepare To Enter …

In Adventure, BDSM, bullshit, cheap men, Comedy, deviance, discount domination, dominatrix, drama, drinking, Education, Family, FAQ, fun, paying for it, performance, Public, sensual domination, Sex, sexual politics, sexuality, whores, Widow Centauri, yoga on December 11, 2010 at 1:31 am

I have been heading to the strip club a lot lately. Most of the time things are sexy, yet timid. I dance for some strangers, make a little money, dance on the pole, and get home in time to make it to six am yoga. Last night was by far the strangest night I have had at the titty bar. If I was going to tell you the blow by blow the story would wind and twist into a strange series of twilight zone episodes.

First, I rush to see a middle aged guy who comes in now and again to see me. He hands me money to talk to him, but not so much that I’m excited to rush. I usually run an hour behind schedule. I’m at the club on time. I feel rushed.

We sit and he reminds me that I promised to answer his questions. He accuses me of fabricating things on my blog. I guess his life is boring. Mine isn’t. I don’t have to make stuff up. “My life is obviously more fun than yours” I tell him, a bit offended that he is essentially calling me a liar. I give him the benefit of the doubt. He is just a silly bitch and clearly can’t grasp the level of perversity I get into. Whatever.

Then he asks me about my family. My personal life. The shit I keep to myself. He has been pressuring me via email and clearly wants to know who I saved from the Christians. What is the relationship I have to the young person I blogged about saving many moos ago. Instead of wasting my time, making up some BS, or even defending my choice to keep it ambiguous I told him straight out “my biological child.” Now it was on the table, no undoing it. I think it is super trashy to talk about your family in a strip club, I didn’t want to but he was basically interrogating me. He told me that it was impossible, continued on with his certainly that I make shit up and I burst into tears.

I left the table, clearly very upset that this wanker came into this titty bar, pushed me for personal information and called me a lying whore. I found the closest darkest spot to stand and cry. I hoped no one would see. Everyone did.

This douche bag tells me he wants to help me. I’m upset. The DJ calls my name and I get on stage. The middle-aged ass wipe puts a dollar on the stage and tells me he is leaving. I crumble up the dollar and throw it in his face. “Fuck you” I say. If he had laid down a hundred dollar bill I would have kept it, but a buck, really? Is a dollar supposed to make up for the fact that you psychically raped me?

I’m dancing on the stage, tears streaming down my face, make up everywhere. Fuck what people think. I have to be on that stage for 20 minutes. I dance the pole, never noticing anyone who might be at the stage. I’m ready to quit. I figure I should go home. I have been nursing a headache all day. I should leave. I go to the dressing room prepared to split, I wipe my face off, give myself a pep talk, get a pep talk from a couple of the dancers, reapply my war paint and head out into the club to make some money. I can’t let one wanker ruin my night. I still have shit to pay for.

I meet up with the pilot and the MD. They are buddies. I have a tiny little leather slapper I carry around this club with me. The MD tells me that the pilot is kinky, hands me a fifty and tells me to take his friend for a slap dance. I grab the pilot by the hand and drag him to the lap dance area. I shove my tits in his face, I slap his thigh, I whisper something about his level of kink in his ear. He assures me he is plenty kinky. I slap his thigh harder, then I slap his dick which is now forming a tent in his pants, he moans, I shove my knee into his crotch, then I knee him hard, he moans louder, his dick is throbbing, he has this huge grin on his face. We go back to the bar, the pilot hands me a hundred and tells me to give his friend, the doctor, the same treatment. The doctor resists, so I whisper in his ear that I’ll be gentle. I take him in the back and proceed to scare the shit out of him. After one song he runs back to the bar. I follow with my silly little slapper like some sort of strip club dominatrix, I slap him on the ass hard before he sits on his barstool. “Buy me a drink” I demand, he does it, I sip my cool beverage and take a load off, glad that the night has picked up.

Making small talk with the MD he uses the word hermaphrodite, I politely tell him that intersexed is the more courteous word, that hermaphrodite is thought to be derogatory and he tells me he doesn’t care, that he will call these freaks what he wants — and he is serious. I’m sitting there sipping a cool Coors 16 ouncer with Joe bigot, medical professional. I can’t get into it with him. I don’t have it in me. I just get up and walk away.

I’m on stage dancing for some young and very cute black boys. They are spending money like it’s going out of style, like they just got their very first pay-checks and headed right to the strip club. I’m shaking my ass and they are throwing money at me. Then one of them says “put your finger in it for me” so I lean in and shove my finger up his nose. It was hilarious. We all laughed and he handed me forty bucks.

I’m wandering around, in a daze, then the smelly guy needs a dance. He lights up every time he sees me. He clearly loves me. But he smells like rotting garbage. Like rotting garbage with cheese and diapers. He is one nasty smelling dude. I smile and flirt with him, take him to the back, take his money, try not to barf on him (I’m still nursing this smell sensitive migraine), I question my good judgment, I spin around and shove my ass in his face so I can point my nose the other way. I’m thrilled when the song is over and the DJ calls my name – “I’ve got to get back to the stage” I say, like I’m disappointed I have to leave him. I smile, bat my lashes, and run for the stage, never so happy to get on a strip club stage in my life. At this point in the night the stage feels like my own personal refugee island. I go there to get away from the drama and smelly strangeness that is happening all around me. Stage island, paradise with a pole.

For this next part you need a little back-story. The dancers at Mardi Gras II are all very nice. They have been polite and supportive, even the night one accused me of stealing a twenty from her (she later apologized), but there is this one girl, this dancer that has been there for-ever and a day. She looks old and tired. She is rumored to suck cock out in the parking lot (and more power to her for doing it – I think that is hot as hell) but this one broad, well she seems to have an axe to grind, she somehow has a problem with me. In all honestly I have given her no reason to dislike me, but I’m over six feet tall in my heels, my hair is long and red, my curves are spectacular, and I look like a god dam movie star. Like I just stepped out of a magazine. She is short and stumpy and missing teeth. She is not competition but I can see how she would think that I was. I call her Tammy the man-eating troll. Not to her face obviously.

I’m flirting it up, looking for dances, getting my hustle on. I see this gorgeous man. He looks like an actor I know in Hollywood. Angular face, dark features, nice build, really handsome. He asks me if I want a drink and I tell him I would rather have the five bucks. I shouldn’t drink any more. He laughs but neglects to hand me the cash. The DJ calls my name. I suggest to this pretty boy that he come to the stage and watch me dance. He says he will, but he doesn’t. I dance alone, I dance for a drunk guy who is texting his wife, I swing around the pole and wonder when this night will be over. I’m fucking done with this shit.

I get off the stage and make my way back to the pretty boy. He looks at me with fear in his eyes and says, “I met your scary friend.” “Who?” I inquire as I really have no friends there but gawd only knows what happened to him. “Behind you” he suggests, I look and it’s Tammy. I look back at him and he all but begs me to save him, “she’s gonna come back for me – please can we go in the VIP room” he asks. We summon the bartender, get the champagne room purchased, and run behind the phony palm trees. We talk, we giggle, then we make out. Straight make out. I’m wet and turned on, we’re dry humping then the lights come on telling us all to get the fuck out of the club. “I’ll meet you at the gas station,” I whisper to him.

I go in the dressing room and Tammy bitches about how she did all the work to get that champagne room, and I just came along and took it. I told her that I had been talking to him before I went on stage. I put on my jeans and drove to the gas station.

When I got to the gas station I saw what I thought was my new friend sitting in an SUV. I parked and walked over to find an elderly man passed out in the drivers seat. I backed away, laughing – nope that’s not him. I looked around and found him. He had seen me approach the old man and we had a good laugh. Then we went to a cheap and conveniently located motel. We got a room, ripped each-others clothes off and had the hottest straight vanilla sex I had ever had.

We took a long steamy shower, we soaped each other up, touched each others beautiful bodies, got good and fucking excited. We jumped in the bed, I rode him, held him down, we rolled around, kissed, and panted, the two of us looking like movie stars in a cheesy on screen sex scene. It was hard to believe just how turned on I was at having sex with a straight white vanilla man.

After he came we talked a little then he got it up again for me, we fucked, like straight people, I came, collapsed, and got dressed. We left the room 90 minutes after we checked in, sheets and condoms everywhere. A little dazed and unsure about where our cars might be we wandered down a hall and I asked him “what’s you name anyway.”

Outside it was four degrees. I gave him my business card. I hope he calls.

Tips for Keeping Your Pussy Healthy

In bathroom, beer, Bikram Yoga, dating, drinking, Dykes, Education, FAQ, neurosis, politics, Public, safety, Sex, sexual politics, sexuality, sweat, yoga on December 10, 2010 at 11:55 pm

One of the best things about being a sexpert is that sometimes my childhood friends will ask me for sex advice. I dislike a lot of needy email but when people I care about trust me with their secrets I feel all warm and cozy, like I have done something useful with my life. Today I had a friend ask me about yeast infections and pussy health. Once I had the list together I thought I would put it here.

Here are some tips for keeping your pussy healthy

Always use a condom!
Don’t let people put their hands on your kooter — hands have a lot of germs on them, even clean hands. If you dig fingers and hands, get latex or nitryl gloves. I’m serious. This is how the dykes do it — always use a glove! Don’t use perfume on your pussy. Don’t over douche — use it if you need to but consider it an irritant. Douche washes away the good flora that you need for healthy pussy. Use high quality lube. None of that strange flavored shit. I suggest Eros brand silicone lube, it is my favorite. Liquid Silk is good too but it tastes nasty. Wet is always a fine mid-grade choice. In a pinch KY is superior to all lube that tries to look fancy. If you have sex in a place that prevents you from showering, use a baby wipe as soon as you have a chance. Wipe from front to back. Wear clean COTTON panties, shower often, and masturbate alone daily — this helps your body to flush out anything that might be in there and keeps your pussy wet. Always use lots of lube — a wet pussy is a happy pussy.

I used to get yeast infections. Once I started practicing yoga they stopped. I had one, last year, it really sucked, but it was only one in the better part of a decade. I don’t mean to imply that yoga prevents yeast infections but it really reduces stress which does create imbalance in the body. Also yoga helped me become comfortable with my body. And I get to sweat! The combo of body comfort, stress reduction, and elimination of toxins through sweat seems to have been instrumental in getting the yeasties under control. Find a good way to relive stress.

Oh, and booze tends to stimulate yeast. stick to vodka. no beer.

The Strip Club

In Adventure, bathroom, deviance, discount domination, dominatrix, fun, Golden Showers, kink, performance, perverts, pissing, politics, Public, sexual politics, sexuality, shoes, whores, Widow Centauri on December 6, 2010 at 2:14 pm

I took most of last week off. I was feeling a little burnt out, but not done. I stayed in and worked on my thesis. I’m heading out to the club tonight, and Thursday.

I have been doing a lot of thinking about how come I’m hanging out in a strip club. I have been wondering what I’m really getting out of this experience of dancing. It’s not just for the stories, though they are good. Really juicy.

After some thinking about the situation I have settled on the fact that I’m lonely. I don’t have a lot of opportunity to be my sexy fabulous self out here. I haven’t done stand up in way too long, I have no friends on this coast, I’m lonely, I’m horny, and I love being a flirtatious femme.

I like people in small doses, I like drinking, and dancing and being sexy. Oh I do so love to flaunt what I have. The problem is that I can’t and don’t want to go out to a bar where I’m not supposed to act like a slut, like the sort of woman who comes by in her panties and says that for $20 I’ll sit on your lap for a song, I’ll squirm around, I’ll see if I can make you squirt. I want to take your money and see how nasty I can be. I want to rub my body on yours, I want to whisper dirty things in your ear, I want this sort of encounter.

This sort of behavior is not acceptable in ordinary bars. I am expected to be there for the sheer joy I get out of drinking with a bunch of strangers. I’m not a nice girl and I don’t want to hang out with men who are not paying me. I like to sit and flirt and make small talk and move things towards the sexy encounter faster than any respectable woman would. I get thrown out of most bars that I go into.
I meet you and for an exchange of cash I want to head to the bathroom and piss on you, I want to go into the dark recesses of the strip club and let you, a relative stranger, feel me up. I am that kind of woman. I am tramp, a whore, a slut, a skank. I am that kind of woman. I am horny, I like sex work, and there is something utterly dirty about being so cheap and easy about it. It makes me wet.

So yea, I like the strip club. I like dancing, I like the opportunity it gives me to turn off my brain, have a little fun, dance drink, hand around in shoes that are way to tall to be practical. I really like the sex industry, I’m digging this stripping gig a lot more than I thought I would.

I’m staying in New England until the end of the school year. It would be very nice if more of my fans, my readers, my ass admirers came out to see me strut my stuff. This dancing gig really turns me on.

And if you come in when it is slow you might even get to see me tango with the stripper pole.

MardiGrasII just outside of hartford — come and play!

NYC Wednesday Night

In Adventure, American Dominatrix, bathroom, BDSM, dominatrix, drinking, Dykes, fun, Gay Bars, Gender bending, Golden Showers, kink, pissing, Public, slave, traveling, whores, Widow Centauri on December 1, 2010 at 8:37 am

A sexy boi friend of mine is in NYC and so I’m gonna head down there around 5:00 PM on Wednesday afternoon. I’ll be in Brooklyn all night. Call, email, and text if you really want to reach me.

I’m in the mood to piss on a toilet boy (in public), head to some strip clubs, and have a good time in the city.

Anybody know the best strip clubs to see dancers with big asses (like mine)?

Be my pubic toilet or my all night bitch.

Email is best.

Widow Centauri
619.884.2376
email: wcinsandyeggo@gmail.com