One D at a Time

Wet 'N Wild

Today, I wrote about female ejaculation for Jezebel. It includes the first time I squirted, as well as an explanation of what the fluid is that comes out, and where the hell it's coming from. Check it out here!

Porn Again: My Adult Entertainment Expo Recap

So I got back from Vegas a few days ago, and I've been trying to readjust. I'm still not getting enough sleep, and my perineum is fucked from, well, too much fucking, while my asshole is all torn up from my unwise, drunken decision to attempt anal with no lube. I'm in pain and I've been walking around my apartment like a cowboy, with my legs kinda bent and wide apart.

To be honest, I had sex the weekend before I left for Vegas with this guy I was seeing briefly like three years ago. He has the fattest dick in the world—to the point where it's uncomfortable—and that sorta messed me up. Then the next day I boned this other guy, which only made the situation worse. So I went to the gyno to get checked out, and he prescribed me this cortisone-type cream to allow it to heal faster. He told me I shouldn't "make love" for a week. In my head I was like, "Uh, I never do."

But really, for a slut, finding out she can't fuck when she's going to Vegas for the porno convention is like a virgin finding out she got her period on her wedding day. It's devastating! So I just threw caution to the wind and did what I normally would. I am paying the price right now.

It was sorta worth it, though. I had so much fun, and made a lot of friends, and learned a thing or two.

I chronicled my adventures over on Jezebel, and also posted my interview with Tristan Taormino, as well as a photo gallery of some of the fashions from the convention. Tomorrow I'll be putting up a sex toy review. Spoiler alert: It sucked! Didn't hold a candle to my Magic Wand. Anyway, check 'em out:

Diary Entry #1:
You Never Forget Your First Time: My Day At The Adult Entertainment Expo

Diary Entry #2:
Last Night I Boned An AVN Award Nominee

Diary Entry #3:
The AVN Convention & Awards: I Came, I Saw, & I Came Again

Convention Fashion:
Fear And Clothing In Las Vegas

Interview:
Tristan Taormino: "Porn Is As Cerebral As It Is Visceral"

Live Blog:
2008 AVN Awards: Dispatches From The Front

What Happens in Vegas Gets Posted on the Internet

Right now I'm in Las Vegas attending the Adult Entertainment Expo and the AVN Awards (the Oscars of porno), covering it for Jezebel. Things have been really tiring—oddly more work than play—but I've been chronicling the whole thing, so check out my first and second Vegas diary entries. The picture above is me and Tommy Pistol at the Village Voice/Babeland party in a suite at the Venetian on Thursday night. That drink later ended up all over me. But I ended up party hopping and eventually boning.

I'm about to leave for the awards show. I'm walking the red carpet. I bought a sorta kinda titty dress, but something tell me I'm still gonna look like a nun in comparison to the rest of the attendees.

I'll be posting more on this later, and I'll provide links to an interview I did with Tristan Taormino, as well as sex toy reviews.

NYE Part 2: Electric Boogaloo

In the photo above, I'm the girl in the middle. You'd think I was wearing lipstick or something, but my lips are actually stained from the countless red jello shots I'd been spoon eating for about six straight hours. It was the only meal I had all day, which essentially made the first half of the night a time I never want to forget, and the second half of the night a time I'm glad I can't remember. (BTW, even though I was blotto by the time this was taken, I still had the wherewithal to smile with my eyes.)

I'm not really one to puke when I get trashed. Usually, I don't even know that I'm drunk until I wake up the next morning with a killer hangover. So it came as a shock to me that just as I was starting to enjoy the middle-of-the-party-not-so-secret sex I was having, I began to feel queasy. I don't know how long that dude was thrusting away on top of me. I couldn't even venture a guess, but I do remember that he started having boner issues again, from being so trashed. I closed my eyes in hopes that it would stop the room from spinning, but it only made matters worse. I think I said something to the effect of, "Are you gonna cum or what?" If he replied, I don't remember, but I got the impression that the answer was invariably no. I pushed him off me, rolled over and sat up. Words may have been exchanged, but the only thing I could focus on was the puke that was winning the fight on its way up from my stomach. I couldn't find my tights anywhere (and I never had any panties on to begin with), so I just tugged my skirt down, and stumbled out of my bedroom.

If Nothing Else, At Least I Got To Have Sex On New Year's Eve

I have to say that for all the shit that went down at my New Year's Eve party, and the expensive mess that resulted from it, one of the things I regret the most is that this is the closest thing I have of a picture of my outfit that night, which was really, really cute. The shoes aren't even in the shot.

I wasn't planning on writing about my party. I guess I'm more comfortable talking about what goes on inside of my vagina than inside my home. And I know that might seem weird. But anyway, when I woke up on New Year's Day, my house was totally trashed. And I really had expected a mess, but there was some damage, and I'd heard some tales of some shit that went down after I passed out that really pissed me off. Anyway, it's a long, story, but I ended up sending out an email to my party invite list with a hidden link I made on my site that contained pictures of the damages, a link to send me a PayPal payment, and a rant about how disappointed I was that my friends did that in my house, not strangers or party crashers. The email ended up on a couple of different websites and message boards, so now I'm just like, fuck it, lemme just spill the beans. I shouldn't have held back in the first place, like I've been doing for weeks on this site, because I've been nervous that I can't really be as brutally honest as I used to be, now that people know my name and what I look like.

But whatever, I'm over that. I'm over everything, really. So let's get to it. I'll fess up to what I can remember about who showed up, who puked, who got weird, and of course, who I fucked. Oh, and duh, the whole "contest" thing.

Win a Date With Me for New Year's Eve

These are my tits.

You'll probably get a chance to touch them if you go out with me on New Year's Eve. Seriously, I don't have a date, and I don't have time to conduct the kind of field work it would take in order to find one. So here's the deal: I'm gonna hold a "contest" to ring in the new year with me, which means you have to kiss me at midnight.

Here are the rules:

• You must be a straight dude.
• You must be willing to at least French, if not bang. However, I reserve the right to put a stop to any physical interaction if I find you creepy or less appealing in person.
• You must live in NYC.
• You must be between the ages of 18 and 36. No exceptions. Unless you're almost 18. Then we can maybe just hold hands till your birthday.
• You must be willing to come to Brooklyn.
• No AIDS please.

Here's how to apply:

• Email me your picture—I'd appreciate one face shot and one full-body. MySpace and Facebook links are also welcome. (And if you send me a video, you'll get extra points.)
• Entries accepted until December 30.

Good luck to you!

I <3 Drunk Sluts

I'm so happy that YouTube wasn't around for my friends to cruelly archive my sloppy, drunken confessional episodes in my early 20s. (There were plenty to choose from.) But I love stumbling across videos like these. I just have such a soft spot for this brand of party girl—slurring, swaying, and unabashedly up for any suggestions. She's alotta fun.

This Is How You Ask a Dude on a Date Via IM

I'm pink.

This Is What I Look Like

So this is me. I did a photo shoot for Jezebel in which I reenacted iconic Lindsay Lohan images, like knives and passing out in cars and shit. Oh, and I also wrote about my rape fantasy for Vice mag. Check it out here.   

Do You Want Some More?

I know I haven't been posting so much lately, but that's because I have this new job that's sort of draining my brain. I'm beginning to get the hang of it there, and I'm starting to figure out how to structure my days so that I'm able to actually have a life away from my computer and TV, so more frequent posts are on the horizon here. But if you're missing me right now, then go visit Jezebel, my new nine to five (or seven to seven, on many days). There aren't any personal stories of mine there (that's what this space is still for) but there's plenty of sex, celeb, pop culture and fashion news to take in on the days when this site is bare.

Meet Dana

Cokane (red shirt) had a going away BBQ on Saturday because she's moving to the deep south this week. It was bittersweet—we had a lot of fun and laughed really hard, but we're all gonna miss her a lot. It sort of marks an end of an era. Everyone's moving away, or moving in with with BFs, or getting married. Everyone's growing up. Well, actually, not everyone. Drunky Brewster's Calisha Jenkins (far left) and Dana (the chick on the ground) are holding it down. I've never told you guys about Dana before. All I have to say is: Don't threaten her with a good time.

Not Another Porno Movie

I'm not a big porno watcher. I'm not a particularly visual person when it comes to masturbating. Nothing can really get me there the way my imagination can. Well, actually, I was into looking at homo thugs for a little bit, but that's pretty much where it starts and ends for me. I've been with guys that wanted some porn on while we were doing it, and I've never been opposed to that. I mean, as long as they don't come between me and my toys, they can have whatever aids they need.

That said, I'm really supportive of the porn industry as a whole. I think it's an incredibly instrumental part of maintaining our ever-threatened civil liberties and freedom of speech. Plus, it's a good, safe way for girls to make a buck in the sex industry.

Anyway, all that crap aside, Burning Angel's latest feature, Not Another Porno Movie looks really fucking funny. Check out the trailer after the jump.

Kiss Me Katie

I had no idea I had so much in common with topless model Katie Price aka Jordan. I knew that we're both writers, but it turns out that we also both enjoy dancing in cars to lite rock and we both have perpetual penis breath.

Happy Birthday to D!

I just realized that today is the one-year anniversary of my first post on this site. Yay! It's been a pretty good year. Aside from using this blog to air my dirty panties, I've managed to procure some work and a little bit of press from it. Take a trip down memory lane and read my first evs post. Thanks to everyone who's been reading, haters and appreciators alike (but more to the appreciators, obvs).

Drunk Rock

I always love Drunky Brewster's fliers. I almost spit orange soda all over my laptop when I saw this one for their show tomorrow:

This photo of them dancing on the table was taken on Fabrisha's (leg kick) birthday at Cheap Shots, where we got absolutely brain faced. We probably did like 15 or more "Strong and Girlies." That's what I call the only shot I'll drink. There is no specific recipe. I just ask the bartender wherever I am to make me shots that are strong (as in, they'll fuck us up) but girlie (as in fruity and pleasant tasting). You know, I love anything that goes down easy.

Fuck You, Pay Me

JK. But seriously, I'm poor. Although I'm not about to start hooking, I figured I can still get paid for getting laid. So if you like what I do here, then check out the ads to the left, and help support my numerous habits, one click at a time.

If you'd like to buy banner space from me, drop me a line and I'll email you specs and rates. (I'm cheap!)

Oh, and I also added my Amazon Wishlist. If you buy me something, I'll send you a picture of my boobs. Again, JK.

Dirty Talk

Someone emailed College Call Girl and asked her if she and I hang out. We do, but mostly we're too busy with our indoor sports to meet up on a regular basis. But we talk online everyday. We're really horrible people, but you know, in a good way. Yesterday we were talking about Britney, among things. (I'm pink.)

Lucky for you guys, we do have a greatest hits. I had the foresight to save some of my favorite convos, including remote-control humping.

Off the Wall

Of all the salacious artifacts cataloged on parisexposed.com (currently suffering from injunctivitis), this is by far my favorite.

From left to right we have an ailing senior citizen receiving oxygen, Nicole Richie, Michael Jackson, Paris and Nicky Hilton. Kudos to Nicky and her tanning bed efforts. Her skin is 16 shades darker than either of the two black people in this photo.

After the jump, the runners-up—photos of a drug kit and a naked Cisco Adler.

This Queen Rules

Guess who just joined the Cool Girls’ Club.

I was thinking that I’d crown LiLo as Miss One D ‘06, but there’s been an 11th hour upset. I’d like to honor another party girl for her outstanding achievement in how fast she picked up the fast life. Since moving to New York City, the former Miss Kentucky has taken a big juicy bite out of the Big Apple—she got drunk, got high, got cozy with a club owner and got lezzie with her roommate. It’s like my junior year at NYU all over again!

It turns out that Tara Conner (whose name I can’t help but mentally pronounce in Terminator style) had the makings of a bad girl all along. She attended an alternative high school—we all know what kind of kids go there. And according to one source [scroll down], it was while Tara was a student in the bad-kids school that she got these boobs.

Plus, she was farting around at community college just before she was crowned Miss USA, leading me to believe that she wasn't exactly in the pageant circuit for the "scholarship money."

Anyway, I think it’s fine that Tara used her title for getting wasted and laid instead of just cutting ribbons. It’s usually more fun to sit on dicks than parade floats anyway. I know that if it were me, I wouldn’t have been able to resist using that killer Trump Place apartment as anything but a bachelorette sex lair. It just sucks that she couldn’t keep the D on the d-low.

Tip your 40 to her memory.

UPDATE: Premature evaluation! Tara gets to keep her crown. This makes her even more awesome. Yeah, she's gotta go to rehab, but the silver lining is that when she gets out, her tolerance will be at an all time low, making the party that much better. Cheers!

Stephanie Kaye

As a boozin’, boy-crazy, scantily-clad eighth grader at Degrassi Junior High, Stephanie Kaye is the epitome of a school slut.

She exhibited a lot of classic, ammoral, whorey behavior like showing skin, trading sexual favors for votes to get elected as class president, and inviting boys over when her mom wouldn’t be home.

She had some stiff competition for her slut superlative title, considering that Spike got knocked up. It takes a lot to beat out a 13-year-old pregnant girl as your school’s biggest ho. But Spike wasn’t really a slut. She accidentally entered herself into the running. She was just an idiot kid who made three major mistakes in her young life by 1.) getting knocked up after only having sex once; 2.) not aborting the fetus; and 3.) that hair.

Stephanie, on the other hand, went out of her way to be a slut. She deliberately made the wrong choices, because she knew it would be more fun that way.

Mötley Brew

I just began reading The Dirt by Mötley Crüe, and although I’m only a few chapters into it, I find myself relating, you know, to the sex and booze and drugs. But I also can relate to the descriptions of the Mötley House, where Tommy, Vince and Nikki were living when they were first starting out.

Until last week, for the past few months—while in between apartments—I’d been living with the band Drunky Brewster.

This is the band:

This is their crib:

And these are their house rules:
1. If your dick ain't working, bet your mouth still is! (It ain't gonna lick itself."
2. Don't stop til you geterdun! (Or the lady doth protest.)
3. Just 'cause you made it in here doesn't mean we're gonna fuck you. We may just wanna smoke your weed.

The rules are actually framed and hanging on the wall.

You've Come a Long Way, Baby Whores

God, remember the dark ages when our young, unwed starlets pretended to be virgins? Thankfully, those days are gone. In the new issue of Elle, 20-year-old Lindsay Lohan tells us how she likes it.

"If I'm going to give my body to someone, I'd rather them not be with other people, but I want to be able to (date) if I like someone else."

I think LiLo's honesty about sex and relationships is a much better example for girls her age than the unrealistic claims that Britney and Jessica used to spew. The experience you gain from numerous partners will make you less likely to be a single mom to some wigger's babies or have a very publicly failed marriage by the time you're 25.

Chaste makes waste, girls. Enjoy your vadge, and let others enjoy it as well.

Scarlett Fever

Everybody loves Scarlett Johansson. (Well, except for one person.) She’s beautiful, has a sexy voice, doesn’t believe in monogamy, and will take in a lapdance on special occasions. And not only does she have pretty good taste in acting projects, she also has pretty good taste in Ds. And she uses everything she’s got to get what she wants—particularly those tig ol’ bitties, which she lovingly refers to as her “girls.”

And her girls like to party all the time. Of course, there’s her rumored love in an elevator with rugged sexican Benicio Del Toro, and her ill-fated romance with Jordan Catalano, but there are a number of other dudes she’s been linked to, making her D list quite impressive for a girl of 21.

Zonah Girl

I know my taste in sluts can run a little faggy, but I can’t help it—Barbra Streisand is a great slut.

My beach read this week has been the unauthorized bio Barbra: The Way She Is. She hates the book, mainly because it reveals what a fucking controlling bitch she is. But it also reveals juicy details of Babs’s love life. Turns out “the nose” knows how to get laid—and what an impressive list of conquests it is!

Take a look at all the feathers in her sexual cap:
Ryan O’Neal
Elvis Presley (during his comeback)
Jon Peters
Elliot Gould (husband #1 and father of her son Jason)
James Brolin (husband #2)
Omar Sharif
Sydney Chaplin (Charlie’s son)
Canadian Prime Minister Pierre Trudeau
Kris Kristofferson
Warren Beaty
Dodi Al Fayed
Richard Gere
Don Johnson
Jon Voight
Andre Agassi
Peter Jennings
Baskin-Robbins heir Richard Baskin
And maybe Bill Clinton. (Hillary is said to be very jealous of Barbra.)

The funny thing is, that all of her lovers share the same opinion—they were completely mesmerized by her sex appeal. Prince Charles has had a well-known, life-long crush on her. Barbra jokes that she should have paid more attention to him, because then she would have been the first real Jewish princess. Funny lady, indeed!

Last week, an eBay auction surfaced (which has since been removed) for an original reel of a 1960s stag film featuring Barbra performing a number of different sex acts. The item description read:
"The film is very clear and filmed in a sort of intimate setting, with some scenes taking place on a couch.The male CO-STAR is unknown to me. The actress/singers' face is VERY CLEAR in many scenes, as are her very recognizable hands, though this appears to be before she grew her nails so long."

It’s not really Barbra. Besides, she’s had those well-manicured nails since her early teens when she was a student at the esteemed Erasmus High in Brooklyn. Also, Barbra became a nightclub singing sensation in the West Village when she was just 18, and began her Broadway career in 1961. She had already achieved a modicum of fame and fortune at that point, so she didn’t need porno to bolster her career or pocketbook.

When the bogus reel first surfaced in 1979, Babs and her then BF, hairdresser Jon Peters, screened the film at home. Her only response was, “That girl doesn’t look anything like me. For one thing, I was really skinny when I was that age.”

Howevs, Barbra did film a real nude scene when she played a quirky hooker in The Owl and the Pussycat. At her insistance, it was left out of the film, but some lucky sucker picked up the footage off the cutting room floor.
Riding on the coattails of the stag film controversy in 1979, High Society published the topless images of Barbra, and she threw a fit. She filed a $5 million lawsuit against the hardcore mag’s publisher, Gloria Leonard. She dropped the suit when Leonard agreed to send out telegrams to wholesalers asking them to remove the images from each issue, and tape over language that Barbra found offensive.

The text in the table of contents read:
“Class act, class ass: Barbra Streisand nude.” The only word she wanted removed was “nude.” She’s known to be proud of her tuchis. It's kinda nice though, right?

What a slut!

Sluttin's Her Stuff

When I grow up I wanna be like Janice Dickinson. I want to turn 51 three years in a row. I want my heart to survive the copious cocaine binges. I want a multi-book deal. I want to be better at being a gay man than gay men.I want the ability to convince myself and others that I am, in fact sober because prescribed medication doesn't count. I want a license to be rude to Tyra Banks's face whenever I want.

And speaking of licenses, I want mine to look like this:

I could really go on and on, for there are many things that I love about Janice Dickinson. But there's only one reason why I respect her—she's my favorite slut that ever existed. Here's why:

She's the oldest slut to stay hot.
With the help of cosmetic surgery, of course. The lady's had so many face lifts that she's pretty much talking out of her labia at this point.

She's a slut's slut.
You know how there are those hot girls that only ever spread their legs to get fucked by rich dinosaurs? Those girls are often mistaken as sluts, but technically, they're just whores. Janice, on the other hand, has always taken advantage of her looks to bang guys she thinks are hot, for rich or for poor, because her vagina, not her wallet, needed to be filled. On her new show The Janice Dickinson Modeling Agency, Janice has, on more than one occasion, expressed sexual interest in garbage men. But don't get me wrong. She still knows which side her bread is buttered on. Which brings me to my next point.

She's a smart slut.
When she wasn't sure who had fertilized one of her pickled eggs, Jan tried to pin her illegitimate child on the wealthiest man last slept with (Sylvester Stallone). And she woulda got away with it, too, if it weren't for that meddling paternity test.

She's a gynocologically-conscience slut.
When Wendy Williams asked Janice if she'd had vaginoplasty or if she would ever get it, Jan seemed confused but then said, “Vaginas, well, I think vaginal anything is great.” I hear that.

She's a chatty slut.
Janice is a total kiss-and-tell, a quality I also possess. She unabashedly brags about her conquests (in her books, on TV, or to anyone who will listen) the way that men brag about theirs. And she should. She has some pretty impressive notches on her bedpost. She's repeatedly used the joke that she'd "need an accounting firm to add up all the lovers I've had." Well, I'm no CPA, but I am a certified public bitch, so here's a list of tail that Janice has supplied in interviews and in her three sex-and-booze soaked books. Notice that she doesn't just take One D at a Time, but makes room for the C's as well.

Warren Beaty (who she says looked at himself in the mirror the whole time)
Mick Jagger
Keith Richards
Liam Neeson (who apparently has a giant D)
Bruce Willis (who she accidentally fucked before he was famous, mistaking him for Dan Akroyd's brother)
Sly Stallone
Kelly Lebrock
Dolph Lundgren (the Russian boxer from Rocky IV)
Grace Jones
Jack Nicholson
JFK Jr.
Frank Zappa
Jon Lovitz (who apparently, whether the thought turns your stomach or not, also has a big D)
Prince Albert
John Cusack
And lastly, the man who sired her first born was none other than the guy who produced Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles The Movie

I know that I'm well on my way in slut achievement, but still, I'll keep my fingers crossed and my legs spread in hopes of living up to the star-studded slut that is Janice Dickinson. But until then, I suppose I'll fake it till I make it.

Pieces of Ass

Normally, I reserve my slut appreciation for ladies I actually find cool. What with the yodeling, wonky teeth, and that sob story of having lived in a car, I didn’t just find Jewel Kilcher uncool, I found her down right offensive—especially her music. (I loathe non-dick induced gag reflexes.)

But today, when I read a Page Six item citing some of her comments from a recent Blender interview, I was forced to re-evaluate my stance. In case you were wondering who will say-eee-ave Jewel's soul, it turns out it’s the sauce.

“Around 30, I kind of realized that alcohol really does solve all your problems,” she said. “Whoever said drinking doesn't help lied.”

A girl after my own heart! And here I thought Lindsay Lohan was my only kindred spirit.

Now that we know she’s an awesome booze-y slut, it really puts some of her previous, seemingly irksome, behavior into a better perspective. Like when she got all Paris Hilton-esque with the release of 0304, replete with long extensions, a lapdog companion, and her own personal discovery that she had fabulous breasts.

In the video for the album's single, “Intuition," Jewel engaged in a wet T-shirt, boobie segment. In the mid-‘90s she was banging Sean Penn, and got him to direct her breakthrough video, even though he was co-habitating/breeding with Robin Wright. (After they broke up, Sean returned to Robin, and agreed to unbasterdize his children by marrying her.) Also, her current BF is Ty Murray, a former rodeo star. You just know that they have some crazy-ass buck-and-ride bedroom sessions!

So let’s raise our shot glasses to Jewel, lick it, suck it, then slam it (and don’t forget to swallow). She’s come a long way, and we’re proud of her journey from boho hobo to plain ol' ho!

I Like Fucking

By banging a multitude of dudes, the only void I’m trying to fill is the one between my legs. I promise you. But still, people’s attitudes toward women and sex are about as old and musty as a matured hooker’s vagina.

It’s weird, considering the popularity of something like Sex and the City. The outlandish sexcapades and locker room banter of the show’s shopping-bag swingers struck a chord with so many regular, unfabulous, suburban single women, proving that ultimately, the Cathys and Carries of this world aren’t all that different.

But still, a girl who unabashedly talks about her sex life is regarded in the same way as the notion that a freelance writer could stuff her Manhattan co-op with Manolo Blahniks—it’s a fairytale. It doesn’t really happen. It’s just not…normal. Or is it?

I couldn’t help but wonder—just kidding! I’m not about to analyze any of the shit I post. That’s soooo boring. I just want a place to revel in a girl’s innocent desire to be sinful.

That said, I love a loose woman. Not because of what she does, but because of why she does it. She’s being herself. And we all know there isn’t anything wrong with that.