Profane and Boring.

A series of flesh, moisture, and sounds sweep across the screen. Bombarding my mind with the profane fantasies and the unrealistic movements choreographed solely for this scene. 

Somehow, I am turned on, but not aroused. My body responds but my aesthetic side judges me. Why are they excessive with everything they do? Every movement exaggerated, every sound forced from the throat he is grasping. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love being choked, I love letting my moans and pleasure sounds release, as loud or as soft as they might be…. But this… This just isn’t cutting it for me. I am sick of the same old storyline and the same people with the same bodies and the same, old, tired, repertoire of positions. 

We can do better...hell maybe I should start creating porn. I mean it can’t be any worse than this sad shit. At least I will have something to watch that is both arousing, beautiful, and worth my time.

Mr. Wolf with Rai and Alia

Location: Yotel Hotel, New York City

I met Rai and Alia last night at Rosewood Theater. I wasn’t prepared to do a shoot - I had no camera besides my iPhone and no hotel room booked. Their energy was undeniable and once I mentioned shooting them there was no turning back.

I pulled up my HotelTonight app and booked a room at the closest hotel. We got to my room around 2:30am. They put on some music, turned off the lights and began their private show for me. Alia was very new to this but warmed up quickly with help of her experienced friend Rai. They loved the attention my camera and I gave them. They needed very little direction. Their innocent playfulness and natural beauty had me putting my camera away often. I enjoyed just sitting on the bed watching them dance with each other. The faint lights from the City below lit up the dark room perfectly. Hitting their slender bodies and bright smiles just so. In between shots we talked about their modeling careers - Rai was in the latest Kayne music video and even performed with him on SNL. They also shared how they came upon dancing at Die Happy Tonight events. Their story similar to many of the Die Happy Tonight models I’ve spoken with before. They heard through a friend and had a desire to explore their sexuality. We ordered in an early breakfast and said our goodbyes. Today’s going to be a good day.

….

Part art piece, part expose, the “Mr. Wolf” photo series captures the intimate moments of Die Happy Tonight models - after the party. Shot by Die Happy Tonight’s Founder. To sponsor a shoot, click here.

Secrets

Dear Diary,

Should I be kind and tell you what my new Daddy likes to do? Or should I be a good girl and take those secrets to my grave. I mean, imagine if anyone were to find this diary, that would be mortifying. Worse yet, I don’t think Aviator Daddy would ever speak to me again.

Then again, we’re friends right? Friends keep each other’s secrets.

It always starts out slowly. We have dinner and discuss the events of the day. Then he finds an excuse for us to go back to his apartment—he’s never straightforward. Once we’re inside all pretense falls away. Sometimes he ties me up, sometimes he makes me suck his cock until I gag on his cum. Usually, he spanks me and makes me ask for more. He always says the same thing—“If you’re a good girl you’ll get more tomorrow.” I wonder if he heard that in a movie or something.

Maybe I’m growing up and growing out of kinky sex, because I’m beginning to find S&M less exciting. I look forward to going through his record collection or discussing the differences between the original Italian and current translations of the classics. It could be that as my body grows accustomed to stimulation—my mind craves more variety.

If he wants to keep me he’ll have to engage with my brain as well as my body.

Submissive Honey

Dear Diary,

I haven’t been someone’s plaything in a while.

Again, I went to another party with the promoter. This one was much more chill, although the girls still looked like they could be anywhere from 16 to 24...I wonder how I looked to them. Oh well, again, that is not the point. I met a new daddy.

Apart of me hates that word. It’s super creepy and I call my own dad Daddy...but Italian aviator likes it, and what he wants he gets. In this case, I guess that’s me. It’s so obvious now but I can’t believe I didn’t see this coming.

First of all, he had the promoter introduce us. I figured he just wanted someone to practice his English on. Then he started fumbling with his words and I thought that was adorable until he said, “You know, we should go out sometime” perfectly and with, almost, an American accent. I nearly spit out my drink.

“What? You speak English? I thought you were just practicing with me?!”

He shrugged and kept staring at me and I realized I hadn’t answered his question. It was all so adorable and sweet—he seemed so shy. Until I said “Yes.”

-XO

Lost Girls

Dear Diary,

I took a trip to Venice. I deserved it.

Yes, it was on a whim and yes, I said I would be more careful with money—but that’s exactly the problem! Since I started being “careful” I’ve been living like a Puritan. I even turned down offers to go out so I can save money and pay off the last bit of my student loans (that last 5k is a bitch, let me tell ya). All this is to say that I undoubtedly and most deservedly (if that’s a word) earned my week-long get away.

But this entry isn’t about me.

Two days ago, I linked up with a promoter (they’re everywhere), and we went to a party. It was fun, normal I’d say, until I noticed this girl in the corner. She was messed up but that’s not why I walked over to her and shook her out of her stupor; I couldn’t tell how old she was.

“22”, she mumbled. Which could have been true, and it could have been a lie. I’ve been told I looked 22 since I was 17 and, ironically, once I hit 22 everyone assumed I was 18. Regardless I offered her cab fare so she could make it home and she shook her head,

“No, I’m staying with LIVE tonight” and she motioned to the graffiti artist in the corner. He nodded at me. She went back to her nap and I went back to the rest of the party.

I hope she made it home okay.

-XO

Dreams

Dear Diary,

That party awakened something in me. I’ve been writing almost every day and I haven’t thought about Justin at all—relatively speaking. I only think about him in the morning when I want to masturbate. Anyway...

I was thinking about my life here in New York and it made me want to put down Six (the novel I’m working on) and start writing a roman á clef. The only reason why I don’t want to write a memoir is because I know everyone is going to say I’m too young to have a compelling autobiography under my belt. Besides, I don’t think I have enough accomplishments (i.e. clout) to make someone want to read my memoir. Who wants to read about a nobody from the Midwest? Especially a nobody who moved to New York to become a writer. Talk about cliché.

The issue is, I hate leaving things unfinished. So, I’m rushing through Six and outlining the not-a-memoir when I’m not exhausted. Maybe the reason why it’s taken me so long to finish Six is because I didn’t have a fire under my butt. It’s the push I never knew I needed.

Well, that’s all for now Diary. I need to get back to work.

-XO

Wonderland

Dear Diary,

I had the craziest weekend. I just have to get that out of the way because I know I’m going to ramble like a crazy person. Let it be known: I know when I’m acting crazy. Anyway, Alex—the promoter—had a big event this weekend and he needed me to help out.

I can’t say no to those big green eyes and adorable French accent. Basically he had a mansion party in the Hamptons to promote and afterward there was an after party on a private island. We had to take a helicopter to get there. Now, I know what you’re thinking and in light of the recent news I was skeptical too. But I went anyway and I’m glad I did.

You really never know who you’re going to meet in NYC nightlife. Of course, there were the typical models and Instagram influencers, but you also had CEOs and finance bros who pay obscene amounts of money to hang out with them. What I’m excited by were all the artist I met. One of my favorite graffiti artists was there and since he’s dating one of my favorite writers, she was there too.

The models and businessmen were fine, but I’d love to be on the other side. The artist were the real stars, they’re what make parties worth attending.

Maybe, if I work hard enough, I can be on the other side of the looking glass.

-XO

Real World Experience

Dear Diary,

Guess what? I was floating around tumbler when I came across a trend of sorts. It was of hot girls, like moi, smoking flowers and other “pretty things.” One girl literally said in her caption, “I’m too young to smoke bad things so why not smoke good things? Same effect...Different p.o.v.” I like the idea but the execution is off.

I started smoking herbs again. Not weed, but herbal tea. I need to come back to my selfhood. Besides, people say lavender tea taste like ass anyway, I’m sure it’s better to smoke or vape it. I need to ask Laura, med school Laura, if I can expect negative side effects to my health.

What else is new?

Well, I am this close to paying off my student loans...and the thought is terrifying. What am I supposed to do after my debt is paid off, actually use my degrees?? The reason I got into dancing was to pay for school. The reason I stayed was to pay off the debt I had accumulated while I was there... If I don’t have student loans, and if I don’t have school, then what do I have? All of my advisors advised against going for another degree, until I’ve gathered more “real world experience”.

What does the world away from textbooks and strobe lights look like?

-XO

Time Adventure

Dear Diary,

I’ve thought about it and the reason I’m so upset with Justin, the reason I’ve been in such a funk, is because I expect something from him. It’s like the Buddha said, “expectation is the root of all unhappiness”. Okay, I’m not sure if he actually said that but I’m pretty sure he did. Moving forward, I just won’t expect anything from him. This way, I can still contact him whenever I want without feeling disappointment.

It’s hard because it feels like no matter what I do, I’ll always have feelings for him. There’s no way to erase the time between us. If anything there are things to amplify it or multiply it in a million tiny mirrors. Every throwback photo on a friend’s page, every old screen saver, every random thing that could remind me of him does—like time is conspiring against me.

 I think I need to binge all the old photos and memories I have of us. Dissect every detail and relive every emotion. My idea is, if I binge enough, I’ll get sick of us, of him, of all the time we spent together. It’s almost like aversion therapy, whenever I go near him I’ll want to vomit. That’s how aversion therapy works, right?

-XO

We Will Happen Again And Again

Dear Diary,

🎶 And we will happen, again and again 🎶

I’m done fighting it. The merry go-round that is me and my rolodex of exes. Maybe I don’t want to get off right now, maybe I want to stay and play for a little while. I keep thinking of Justin and how I need closure, but we both know what closure leads to...it feels like I have two options.

1.    Meet him for coffee and say my peace

a.    Except possible consequences of that meeting...mainly letting him raw dog me on his roommate’s couch

                                               i.     Experience the inevitable remorse and confusion that comes with getting reacquainted with Bo Joe’s couch

2.    Move on. Let him wallow in a life without me as I suffer in silence under the weight of my own unanswered questions.

Is there a third option I’m missing because I’ve been through the list a few times and I can’t find one.

Maybe this time, we won’t have sex. Or, if we do, I can set boundaries between us—namely, we have sex when I want to, and he’s not allowed to contact me between the hours of 7pm and 2am. Maybe if I make him wear a condom, a literal barrier between us, he’ll be so turned off he’ll never want to see me again...maybe we should schedule sex a week in advance.

Oh snap, that might backfire and make him super horny in anticipation.

Who am I kidding? Time is an illusion that helps things make sense...if I didn’t set boundaries the other zillion times we had sex, why would I set them now? No matter what I do I can’t erase the time we spent together. Beemo is right, we’ll always be back then.

(Side note, I’m convinced Adventure Time is our generation’s Casablanca and no one can tell me otherwise).

I wish I knew what to do.

-TTFN

The Slut of Switzerland.

I went out in Geneva with three handsome men, all hoping to taste me in some way. I wore skirts far too short and laughed far too loud for these professional and proper people. Everywhere I went I got looks. Looks that asked questions, looks that judged me, envied me, wanted me. Each stare felt like I achieved my goal. I wanted everyone to know who I was. I wanted them to know what I was going to do tonight. I wanted them to imagine what it would be like to have the chance to fuck me. The slut of Switzerland.

I made quite an impression on that small club playing weird experimental music. It was relaxing and quiet. Then I showed up with my three sexy men, my ass barely covered and my long wild hair, unkempt and beautiful. I never make a scene, I bring the scene. And when I left, I left with a room full of necks twisted to watch me go.

A World For(e)play.

I feel free when I travel. It feels as though the world is teasing me. Every city introduces a new form of foreplay I haven’t experienced before. Every place has a lover meant to be discovered, only by me. The essence of travel is erotic. The result is arousing. 

I step into a new world of senses. Aromas ingested for the first time. Flavors melting over my body. Sometimes I think of the world as one big sensual play party, where I am the focus of everyone’s attention.

Dysphoria.

The days following passion always are colored by tinges of sadness. I get so high and enraptured with my body experiencing another, that when it dissipates into reality, it feels as though I’ve dropped 100 meters into the Earth. This dysphoria is an ice blue chill that keeps me up at night and dazed through the sunlight. It is something I do not try to push away. This crash is a part of the entire experience. Feeling the absence of what was there, between my thighs, tangled my hair. It’s almost the best part. It is what keeps me hooked. Keeps me searching for another desire that will surpass my threshold. 

What new heights will I crash from next?

A boy from the club: part two.

We emerged from the club to a mass of people smoking on the corner and watching the sunrise in this foggy dusk. 

We wandered the cobbled roads, his arm around me, talking about where we grew up and where we were going. We shared so many details of our lives, things we have learned, stories of our families. I found out he was a few years younger than me. The youngest person I’ve been with since I almost exclusively date older men. However, age wasn’t apparent, it wasn't important.

Though, I was curious how this was going to turn out.

We got to his apartment and immediately upon entering his room, we attacked each other. Wildly tearing at our clothes. He pushed me down on his bed enjoying his way up my legs. He made his way around my body and focused all his attention on me. Staring into my eyes, he was tender, yet dominant.

And I’m going to be honest here, I’ve never had someone eat my pussy so damn well. 

The light touch of his mouth and the full, warm pressure of his tongue overwhelmed me. I got so worked up, he stopped, smiled at me and said, “Are you in a rush?” A wave rushed through me of desire and surrender. 

No, I am not in a rush! 

And he took his time, gave me 5 orgasms, put on a condom and fucked me until I released my hot, sweet fluids onto his body. 

The next morning he made me coffee, kissed the top of my head sweetly and we sat by the window.

Maybe I have bee doing it all wrong. Dating older (mostly American)  men, maybe I need a young romantic European man. 

I left Milan the next day, only having that one night with him. But in that one night, we fell into total passion, we let ourselves be ‘in’ love, and feel the breadth of what we were capable of, as intimate, sensual, erotic, and emotional beings. 

This is what I want from every lover, from every encounter. No less than this surrender to passion and vulnerability.

A boy from the club: part one.

I met this boy at a club. I went there last night with the licentious group of students I now call my friends. We had gone to a gay club and there was this small boy who didn’t seem that interested in dancing but was casually chatting with a few people in the group I came with.
He immediately caught my eye. He was just my type, mysterious, dark hair, bearded, a bit feminine. I had to strategize, he wasn’t dancing with anyone, he could be gay or just aloof..

I stepped out for a smoke and he was outside. Hands in pockets, looking pensive. I began rolling up my cigarette and we struck up a conversation. 

He was a reserved one, but as soon as we began to speak, it was obvious.

My friends had walked out of the club, but this time it was around 4 am. We saw they were ready to leave. He turns to me quickly before they had a chance to carry me away, “do you want to go inside and dance?”

I knew that is not what he was after. My previous observations saw that he wasn’t much of a dancer. But I accepted and we proceeded to make out for an entire hour (I guess you can call that dancing!)

This is what I love about Europeans, they will take you and make out with you wherever because they want you… Back home there is this hesitancy, this denial, this worry that by being too passionate you may “send the wrong message.”

Let’s be clear. I DON’T want to marry you, I just want to make out.

 After about an hour, I surfaced from his lips and asked, “Do you want to leave?”

Bred into our bones.

I feel high. I am still electrified from last night… and this morning.

Mari and Ana met me at a trattoria near their apartment. We got a bottle of wine, ate olives, and shared a dessert. A proper date. Women really do know how to court you. Romance seems to be bred into our bones.

I got to know this depth they had, individually and with each other. Their love uplifted me. I felt like a tiny treasure in their story. 

We walked back to their apartment slowly. Ana took out an old rusted barrel key and open the massive blue door to a massive stone stairwell. It smelled dusty and cool, like a dried up basement. They were two floors up. A spacious apartment decorated simply. 

Everything was white except for their brightly colored pillows and throw blankets. 

We went into their room and opened the doors up to the balcony feeling the humid breeze cool our skin. 

The thing about making love with women… it’s always this gentle happening. Nothing needs to be done or achieved. It just seems to happen, gracefully. There was this encompassing tenderness. I felt like I could be theirs forever. Like I could just slip my way into their love story.

Between the wine and their intoxicating sensuality, I can’t remember how it all began. But I remember their soft skin, their coarse hair between their legs and a warm delicate scent, like brown sugar and jasmine. 

Their hands moved over me like a craft they’ve refined and shared with me. I felt cleansed. The taste of their skin was so different. Yet they complemented each other like a carefully curated pairing. 

Mari’s pussy was similar to mine. Petite inner lips surrounded by puffy, smooth outer labia, our clit’s were tucked back, but not too small and were trimmed in the shape of a wide triangle. Ana’s was more expressive and floral. Her inner lips curled from beneath the flat taught surface of her outer lips. Her clit protruded out and her color was bright. 

We admired and adored each one with our mouths, rubbing our faces into the fragrance.

By morning we were entwined within the sheets around each other. Our warm skin glistened from the humidity and the sweat we shared.

I can still feel Mari’s hands caressing my shoulders as she was being held by Ana.

A perfect trio, we three muses.

Into their world.

I connected up with the people I met the other night at the pub.

We bought a bottle of tequila and roamed the streets taking turns swigging from the clear glass.  There were two girls who seemed to be lovers. One girl named Mari had dark skin, big curly hair, and these iridescent green eyes. The other, Ana was fair, she had dark straight hair cut to her shoulders, and was slender and bony. Separate they were sexy, but to see them together. There must be some magic for these two humans to have found and love each other. 

Sometimes I become infatuated with certain couples. Whether at restaurants, parks, or events, I’ll be enamored with the interactions of certain matches. I want insight into their life. What is it like when they have sex, where have they traveled together, how did they meet?

These girls were one of those couples, but this time I got an inside view. 

I think it was a bit obvious because they began to flirt with me, both together and apart.

We stopped at a store before they closed for the night and bought enough alcohol to last us the night and into tomorrow. We wet to a park and spent the rest of the night opening bottles of wine, eating cheap chocolate and candies, and rolling spliffs. 

The night went on like this until Mari and Ana found the courage through the wine, tequila, and chocolate to whisper in my ears everything they like about me.  They had me biting my lip, throwing my head back, and laughing with arousal at their complete unabashed sensuality, flirtation, and beauty. It was silly and child-like, they wanted me to come into their world and play. 

We kissed each other quietly as the other 4 friends continued on as if not noticing. 

It was now us three cuddled up, sharing wine and desires and complete comfort with each other. Maybe it was because they were a couple, but I rarely feel this sense of acceptance and understanding. 

When the wine was finished it was around 4 am. Mari and Ana had to get up in the morning but told me (not asked) that they will be taking me out that night, kissed me and turned off to walk to the apartment they shared. 

We will see what tonight brings…

Until then, here I lay in the sun, still drunk from the night before.

New Friends.

Satisfied in the sun. I am spending my afternoon on the grass of the Guastalla Gardens in Milan. I’m in the sun drinking lemon soda and eating fresh currants.

This is the day of rest I deserve after last night….

I had met a group of young students at a pub. We immediately connected over our rolled cigarettes and the desire to smoke weed after I had asked them if I could have a paper. I was alone when we met, enjoying limoncello. They enthusiastically invited me to sit with them. We drank all night, smoking inside, and randomly signing karaoke in the room downstairs.

They were care-free, liberated, sexy, and unashamed. Just being around them felt like I was being infused with this enhanced seduction (as if I need to be any more of a seductress!).

We spent all night together. I haven’t been that drunk in a long time. I think I will meet with them again. There are a few girls in this group that I cannot help but fantasize about!

Let’s see how this unfolds…

Unpredictable.

I am an unpredictable girl. 

Here one day and across the world the next. I can’t seem to keep still for too long. Perhaps I am a bit hyperactive… but everyone tells me how laid back and lovely I am. 

Perhaps it’s the fact that no one in the United States is able to give it to me like those romantic Europeans. 

Every time, I fall into these intense and erotic affairs. Whether they last for 1 night, 2 weeks, or 3 years. My secret lovers dot the coasts of the Mediterranean and the cities of Paris, Rome, and London. I cannot stay away from these temptations for too long. 

So, off I am. Yet again, on an unplanned adventure to places I’ve yet to see, in hopes to taste new bodies I am soon to meet.

In search of Adonis': The Consummation

That night we had gone over our fetishes, our fantasies and our boundaries... everything was communicated. After a few hours of lounging and indulging and inquiring all was still. There was this contented lull that bled over the room. I was high and awash in some lazy seduction. 

Paul began massaging my back again. My eyes were closed and enjoying his hands when I feel another pair squeezing my legs. Rubbing deeply up my thighs, he stopped and squeezed at the crease where my thighs met my hips. I felt the reverberations of his touch in my pussy, I can feel it now thinking back on it.  I let out a moan. The deep, heavy touching continues, my body being worshiped and worked. Fuck massage therapists, this is the bodywork I need.

My pussy began throbbing with pleasure and my sweetness seeped down my thighs. Riley could feel the warmth and moisture as his hands glide up my thighs. I do not remember how it all unfolds, but I found myself licking Riley’s chest and pressing my ass into Paul’s cock. Things progressed and I was taken over. I no longer had control. I could not tell whose hands are on me. I was totally eclipsed by intense pleasure.

I opened my eyes to see them entranced with my body, their hands gently grazing each other from time to time. I looked over at Paul and brought his head close to Riley’s. They look at me and smile and begin making out. I crouched down to let them have space and took their hard beautiful cocks in my soft petite hands. I go between stroking and sucking and licking as their hands are both on my ass and each other. 

This game of stroke and suck, kiss and grasp, continued. There was no penetration for what seemed almost too long. I was so worked up I practically begged for it. But they refused my pleas and replace their cocks with their faces. Between my legs, they looked up at me and laughed at my almost ritualistic trance. I knew what they were doing. They know exactly how much I like to be denied, how I adore my body explore at every dip before I get fucked. They were playing the game I wanted, the game I told them about through stories of so many other affairs. 

Finally, they push me down, slide the condoms on each other and take turns fucking me…In every way possible. I am crying, I am choking, I am screaming, I am squirting, I am laughing. Emotions and sounds emerged from me I had no idea were even present.

In a moment of blissful orgasm, my mind had become still, I look at both of them and realize this was really happening. What I wanted, what I feared, what I created. 

It was the perfect gift to give to myself. A gift of the gagged, the bound, of beauty and lust.  Wet with my cum all over them, all three of us began work on pleasing and edging and erupting their waiting and wanting cocks. 

We collapsed. Utterly exhausted, inexplicably satisfied, and covered in fluids.