Angelyn
Female
Just let me dream on...
A sleazy sex shop in the middle of a bad place.
What is a bad place? I would call it a bad place for women to be. It’s screaming with unbridled testesterone. Any woman who walks into that female-unfriendly place is running the risk of being grabbed and ****** into gangbangs.
There won’t be any grouchy old female owners in big plastic spectacles and ankle length dresses to soften the atmosphere. It is pure hardness. Only male owners and store clerks and cleaners. Some are old, but none of them are overweight or skinny. Not everyone has big muscles, but everyone has defined facial features – hard lines and tough eyes that run up and down every woman’s body when she walks down this street.
Unfit, pathetic men are banned from this place informally. If you are a fat, pale geek loser, you don’t feel comfortable among these hard guys, so you stay at home and masturbate. My girlfriends whisper about this place in hushed tones, not always daring to admit what they did here or allowed to be done to them. But I know that if I set foot in here, I can be assured that any man who touches me has a firm, toned body. I won’t be able to outrun any of these guys even if I wanted to. These are real men at the peak of their reproductive fitness. No fat balding ‘alpha’ bosses with bellies, dandruff, shiny pates and uneven shaves. These are true alphas, various versions of Mandingo, Lexington Steele and Sean Michaels. These guys can wear decorations like Fireman of the Year, Forest Ranger of the Year and Best in Marines. No fat, all hard guy. Even when his dick isn’t hard, the rest of him must be. Whatever the Ghostbusters 2016 scriptwriters wrote, I still don’t like baby-soft skin in guys. I simply can’t feel sexual or submissive with soft guys.
I think I’ll call it the Lust Mile.
The sex shop is in the middle of the Lust Mile. A pretty big place at least a few acres in size, the Walmart of sex. I think I’ll call it Sin-e-plex, pun intended.
Outside Sin-e-plex you smell asphalt, engine oil, wood shavings, whiskey and cigarettes. Not a genuine turn on for me, but very manly smelling all the same since I figure that’s what Mancaves smell like. (Sorry, but not having being married or cohabited for long before I might stereotype the guys.) But it’s not a trucker place. Truckers tend to be overweight. No, the Lust Mile is located near a military base. Some place with SEALS stationed, or it’s got tough guys, hard guys walking around.
Women who are not out to soak in the aggressive atmosphere are scared off right at the start of the Lust Mile because it is so blatantly sexual, so demeaning. There are all kinds of neon images of women, posters, banners, statues, figurines. These get more and more degrading as you walk down the Lust Mile. There are no normal images or role models of women in these parts. No policewomen, no female janitors, not even waitresses with hard eyes who are used to the horny men. Women are depicted bending over, sitting on the floor, kneeling, crawling, on hands and knees, posing next to men’s feet, sitting with legs wide apart, lying down in an inviting position...
No woman in her right mind will walk more than a hundred feet down this road unless she is already asking to be degraded and humiliated and treated like a sex object. This is like a huge man-cave and the only women who come here are ‘guests’. We don’t belong here. The guys set the rules.
We only come in here because we need their cum. Oh, this is a fantasy of mine, but I wish there was some way to ban all the low sperm count, small cumshot losers from this place. I absolutely detest male pornstars who can’t produce sperm.
There is a drinking place called the Watering Hoe before Sin-e-plex. There is a neon sign of a woman with her legs wide apart at the entrance. Sexual silouhettes flank her image, including men with erecting dicks. To get in for free, women have to accept water being poured on them. We’re all referred to as hoes and whores. It is a bit too rowdy for me, so I never enter. The girls who enter know who is boss and how they will be treated. It’s all testesterone every breath of the way. It’s so hot that even if you are wet all over, you still feel hot.
(I imagine lots of guys have at least a bit of sweat because they are all engaged in guy activities. EG arm wrestling at every other table, guys punching each other in the arm, masculine pushing and bumping around. Put lots of these guys together, and the smell of fresh sweat is overpowering. Of course, I do fantasize that these places get properly aired out and wiped down at the end of every night’s debauchery, so the next day they smell fresh again.)
Laws do still apply in this area. Military police drive up and down in tough guy vehicles (HMMVs, horses, big bikes, no Toyota Priuses) to make sure things don’t get out of hand. These guys are all in sunglasses, so they look tough without actually being overthreatening, because I'm a bit uncomfortable with eye contact when it comes to strong men. So while there is plenty of sexual intimidation and catcalls and lustful looks, a single woman like me can be assured that anything that takes place, is indeed consensual. I’m not asking to be raped, and I won’t be raped. I’m walking down this lane because I am feeling horny, and I crave the sense of male power and aggression and lust.
I’ve said it so many times and I’ll say it again. Power is an aphrodisac. And every man here has power. Confidence. It is a place where alpha males come to lounge around and take pleasure in enjoying the females who enter. And females do enter. We come here because we know this is a place only for alpha males. No weaklings lacking in confidence, no drunkards, no druggies, no losers, no whiners, no incels. And while I do enjoy talking with male librarians normally, I really don’t want to see any Vespa riding librarians in this fantasy.
This is a place where women are taken. Taken hard. Fucked silly. No woman is ever allowed to exit with her dignity intact. The depraved things that they do to us... every opening must be violated. I must be sore in every hole because their dicks are so big and they are so ferocious in their lust. No woman is permitted to leave without having at least a dozen loads shot inside her and more all over her.
It’s a one way street. We can only walk down in one direction. We can choose our male partners by indicating various signs of submission. Most feminine gestures will do, I suppose. I am not the coy type who bats her eyelashes and gives come hither looks. When I am feeling like sex, I tend to be very submissive and look down. I would prefer to be taken by my wrist or neck or head and gently but firmly guided to do whatever the men want. I tend to indicate my availability by not putting up a fight. I want men who are unyielding. They know what they want, and they take it from us, and we do not resist because we are so overwhelmed.
I'm no bisexual, but I've always felt that a gangbang can't be complete without another woman being present. There's something so comforting about another female presence, another victim of the endless lust of men. Nearly all the sexual action takes place with some other women nearby, preferably a total stranger, with whom I'm ****** to do a lot of intimate things such as kissing, swapping underwear, and doing ATOGM. This ****** intimacy tells us women that we're the objects of lust; we can't choose our intimate partner, we have to satisfy men endlessly and our only comfort comes from another submissive in the same situation.
I like a mental scene where I and various other women are being marched around or led around by dominant black men who push down on our heads. Sometimes we are leashed or chained or collared. We are in some state of undress, sometimes even naked and wearing nothing but heels. To add to our sexualization, there is often something inserted into our bodies such as butt plugs, and it is obvious from our positioning that these things are violating our bodies.
(In real life/ in real porn, they never make such good scenes. The guys are often not dressed or not dressed well, which I don’t want. A submissive woman seeks superior men, and these men MUST remain in character. They MUST dress well. How many times must I say it, but women do value nice shoes. Even though I can’t really tell Oxfords from Budapesters, when I am being marched around naked with a Master pressing down on my head and making me keep my head low, I want to look at his shoes, and I want to see power shoes, casual-strong-dominant top of the world shoes. I do not ever want to see sneakers or flip flops or any of the garbage that most porn losers like Shane Diesel wear. I don’t care if you are a basketball star with your own line of sneakers; I still want you to be in a suit and wear proper leather shoes when you are leading me around, parading my naked body and showing off my violated holes to the world to advertise my sexuality and my availability for fucking.)
I generally find it exciting to be handcuffed, but cuffs should go with rough talk, power talk, grabbing of hair and neck and body parts. Keep up the atmosphere of dominance and intimidation so that I feel naturally submissive, feminine, so that I don’t feel like putting up any resistance to your nasty and humiliating sexual demands.
Power men are nasty men. Poke your fingers into my ass. Make me taste my own ass without asking if I consent. Why would any sane person consent to such humiliation? Only if she is so dominated by your power and aggression that she can’t put up a fight. Ass to mouth is one of the humiliating things that put me in a sexual, submissive mood everytime. Partly as a result of having my head pushed down and partly because of the humiliation, my face should be totally red at this point and anything that touches my face or lips or mouth should be stimulating.
I like to have objects inside me when I am being paraded around in a head down, ass up position. Not too big because I’m not a freakish size queen, but big enough that I can’t move without feeling them. I generally find that firm objects like silicone dicks are better than totally unyielding things like glass dildos. It’s humiliating. It’s exciting.
We can choose the alleys to walk into. Some say anal, some say blowbang, etc and the men have to keep to these themes to avoid things getting out of hand. Not every man is for every woman. But once a group and an alley has been selected we are largely in their power.
I’m here to be fucked, and I’m not here to resist. There is no choice and no consent anymore. I’m helpless, at the mercy of lustful sperm-producers who see every woman as a receptacle for their cum. And I must get a lot of it. I’m thinking 20, 30 big cumshots. Wow.
I stress again, there must be another woman around. After all, I can't see a lot of the action. Good to have another woman who is largely made to do the same things.
...
In the other direction, women depart sore and exhausted and in various states of deshabille. Usually all our clothes have been torn off or confiscated as trophies at some point, and we are allowed to stop at ‘clothing shops’ along the way. Men will demonstrate their power by buying lingerie and other clothes for us.
To make things even trashier, these ‘lingerie shows’ really feature second hand lingerie worn formely by prostitutes, pornstars or strippers and removed during sex or shows. Some of the lingerie was even donated by men after they took these articles of clothing from women as trophies. Now we’re wearing second hand lingerie that hasn’t even been washed, given to us by nasty guys whom we’re supposed to gratefully thank!
All the clothes are trashy. If it isn’t trashy, it has been trashed. Such as power suits for women that are covered in dried spunk. Really disgusting but we have no choice because we have no other clothes to wear.
It would be even more fun if the clothes didn’t really fit us. It’s some version of the rappers-in prison outfit thing. These clothes are either sluttily tight or skimpy, or loose fitting and oversized – but torn up and revealing. In all cases we’re sex objects and know it. Even after we have been used and fucked many times, we still can’t salvage any dignity when we depart. We're not allowed to pretend nothing has been done to us.
We’re all covered in secretions, inside and outside. That much I can say. Cum, cum and more cum. Inside my throat, my womb, my rectum, all over my body and face and hair. We’re leading the female life to the extreme – by collecting lots and lots of semen. I’ve turned into a female stick insect who stores cum for a lifetime. I’ll get enough cum to last my lifetime.
One more thing, in this place sex is the only legal tender currency. I'm sure many of us have fantasized about being paid for sex or being made to perform sex acts in exchange for something. In this place, women have no rights and our money is not legal tender. If we women want something, we have to please some man – flash him something, bend over for him, let him cop a feel, etc. Since all that sucking and squirting and swallowing salty stuff has left me dehydrated, I have to *******. I can't pay for my *******, so I have to suck some dick before I'm given some basic H20 to rehydrate myself.
There is a bus stop at the end called the Hoe Bus. It has pictures of slutty women on the outside. I’m supposed to board this bus, and it will take me home. To make things worse, this bus doesn’t have normal chairs. The chairs are sybians. Or saddle seats with vibrators and vibrating pads. And it is equipped with screens that feature more porno stuff. All of us girls cum and cum all the way home because there is no way to sit on a normal chair. The smell of dripping cum and vagina juices fills the bus. It’s so filthy and stinky! Imagine what my neighbors are going to think when I exit a private bus like this, with all the decals outside, and I look and smell the way I do! The humiliation doesn’t end!
A sleazy sex shop in the middle of a bad place.
What is a bad place? I would call it a bad place for women to be. It’s screaming with unbridled testesterone. Any woman who walks into that female-unfriendly place is running the risk of being grabbed and ****** into gangbangs.
There won’t be any grouchy old female owners in big plastic spectacles and ankle length dresses to soften the atmosphere. It is pure hardness. Only male owners and store clerks and cleaners. Some are old, but none of them are overweight or skinny. Not everyone has big muscles, but everyone has defined facial features – hard lines and tough eyes that run up and down every woman’s body when she walks down this street.
Unfit, pathetic men are banned from this place informally. If you are a fat, pale geek loser, you don’t feel comfortable among these hard guys, so you stay at home and masturbate. My girlfriends whisper about this place in hushed tones, not always daring to admit what they did here or allowed to be done to them. But I know that if I set foot in here, I can be assured that any man who touches me has a firm, toned body. I won’t be able to outrun any of these guys even if I wanted to. These are real men at the peak of their reproductive fitness. No fat balding ‘alpha’ bosses with bellies, dandruff, shiny pates and uneven shaves. These are true alphas, various versions of Mandingo, Lexington Steele and Sean Michaels. These guys can wear decorations like Fireman of the Year, Forest Ranger of the Year and Best in Marines. No fat, all hard guy. Even when his dick isn’t hard, the rest of him must be. Whatever the Ghostbusters 2016 scriptwriters wrote, I still don’t like baby-soft skin in guys. I simply can’t feel sexual or submissive with soft guys.
I think I’ll call it the Lust Mile.
The sex shop is in the middle of the Lust Mile. A pretty big place at least a few acres in size, the Walmart of sex. I think I’ll call it Sin-e-plex, pun intended.
Outside Sin-e-plex you smell asphalt, engine oil, wood shavings, whiskey and cigarettes. Not a genuine turn on for me, but very manly smelling all the same since I figure that’s what Mancaves smell like. (Sorry, but not having being married or cohabited for long before I might stereotype the guys.) But it’s not a trucker place. Truckers tend to be overweight. No, the Lust Mile is located near a military base. Some place with SEALS stationed, or it’s got tough guys, hard guys walking around.
Women who are not out to soak in the aggressive atmosphere are scared off right at the start of the Lust Mile because it is so blatantly sexual, so demeaning. There are all kinds of neon images of women, posters, banners, statues, figurines. These get more and more degrading as you walk down the Lust Mile. There are no normal images or role models of women in these parts. No policewomen, no female janitors, not even waitresses with hard eyes who are used to the horny men. Women are depicted bending over, sitting on the floor, kneeling, crawling, on hands and knees, posing next to men’s feet, sitting with legs wide apart, lying down in an inviting position...
No woman in her right mind will walk more than a hundred feet down this road unless she is already asking to be degraded and humiliated and treated like a sex object. This is like a huge man-cave and the only women who come here are ‘guests’. We don’t belong here. The guys set the rules.
We only come in here because we need their cum. Oh, this is a fantasy of mine, but I wish there was some way to ban all the low sperm count, small cumshot losers from this place. I absolutely detest male pornstars who can’t produce sperm.
There is a drinking place called the Watering Hoe before Sin-e-plex. There is a neon sign of a woman with her legs wide apart at the entrance. Sexual silouhettes flank her image, including men with erecting dicks. To get in for free, women have to accept water being poured on them. We’re all referred to as hoes and whores. It is a bit too rowdy for me, so I never enter. The girls who enter know who is boss and how they will be treated. It’s all testesterone every breath of the way. It’s so hot that even if you are wet all over, you still feel hot.
(I imagine lots of guys have at least a bit of sweat because they are all engaged in guy activities. EG arm wrestling at every other table, guys punching each other in the arm, masculine pushing and bumping around. Put lots of these guys together, and the smell of fresh sweat is overpowering. Of course, I do fantasize that these places get properly aired out and wiped down at the end of every night’s debauchery, so the next day they smell fresh again.)
Laws do still apply in this area. Military police drive up and down in tough guy vehicles (HMMVs, horses, big bikes, no Toyota Priuses) to make sure things don’t get out of hand. These guys are all in sunglasses, so they look tough without actually being overthreatening, because I'm a bit uncomfortable with eye contact when it comes to strong men. So while there is plenty of sexual intimidation and catcalls and lustful looks, a single woman like me can be assured that anything that takes place, is indeed consensual. I’m not asking to be raped, and I won’t be raped. I’m walking down this lane because I am feeling horny, and I crave the sense of male power and aggression and lust.
I’ve said it so many times and I’ll say it again. Power is an aphrodisac. And every man here has power. Confidence. It is a place where alpha males come to lounge around and take pleasure in enjoying the females who enter. And females do enter. We come here because we know this is a place only for alpha males. No weaklings lacking in confidence, no drunkards, no druggies, no losers, no whiners, no incels. And while I do enjoy talking with male librarians normally, I really don’t want to see any Vespa riding librarians in this fantasy.
This is a place where women are taken. Taken hard. Fucked silly. No woman is ever allowed to exit with her dignity intact. The depraved things that they do to us... every opening must be violated. I must be sore in every hole because their dicks are so big and they are so ferocious in their lust. No woman is permitted to leave without having at least a dozen loads shot inside her and more all over her.
It’s a one way street. We can only walk down in one direction. We can choose our male partners by indicating various signs of submission. Most feminine gestures will do, I suppose. I am not the coy type who bats her eyelashes and gives come hither looks. When I am feeling like sex, I tend to be very submissive and look down. I would prefer to be taken by my wrist or neck or head and gently but firmly guided to do whatever the men want. I tend to indicate my availability by not putting up a fight. I want men who are unyielding. They know what they want, and they take it from us, and we do not resist because we are so overwhelmed.
I'm no bisexual, but I've always felt that a gangbang can't be complete without another woman being present. There's something so comforting about another female presence, another victim of the endless lust of men. Nearly all the sexual action takes place with some other women nearby, preferably a total stranger, with whom I'm ****** to do a lot of intimate things such as kissing, swapping underwear, and doing ATOGM. This ****** intimacy tells us women that we're the objects of lust; we can't choose our intimate partner, we have to satisfy men endlessly and our only comfort comes from another submissive in the same situation.
I like a mental scene where I and various other women are being marched around or led around by dominant black men who push down on our heads. Sometimes we are leashed or chained or collared. We are in some state of undress, sometimes even naked and wearing nothing but heels. To add to our sexualization, there is often something inserted into our bodies such as butt plugs, and it is obvious from our positioning that these things are violating our bodies.
(In real life/ in real porn, they never make such good scenes. The guys are often not dressed or not dressed well, which I don’t want. A submissive woman seeks superior men, and these men MUST remain in character. They MUST dress well. How many times must I say it, but women do value nice shoes. Even though I can’t really tell Oxfords from Budapesters, when I am being marched around naked with a Master pressing down on my head and making me keep my head low, I want to look at his shoes, and I want to see power shoes, casual-strong-dominant top of the world shoes. I do not ever want to see sneakers or flip flops or any of the garbage that most porn losers like Shane Diesel wear. I don’t care if you are a basketball star with your own line of sneakers; I still want you to be in a suit and wear proper leather shoes when you are leading me around, parading my naked body and showing off my violated holes to the world to advertise my sexuality and my availability for fucking.)
I generally find it exciting to be handcuffed, but cuffs should go with rough talk, power talk, grabbing of hair and neck and body parts. Keep up the atmosphere of dominance and intimidation so that I feel naturally submissive, feminine, so that I don’t feel like putting up any resistance to your nasty and humiliating sexual demands.
Power men are nasty men. Poke your fingers into my ass. Make me taste my own ass without asking if I consent. Why would any sane person consent to such humiliation? Only if she is so dominated by your power and aggression that she can’t put up a fight. Ass to mouth is one of the humiliating things that put me in a sexual, submissive mood everytime. Partly as a result of having my head pushed down and partly because of the humiliation, my face should be totally red at this point and anything that touches my face or lips or mouth should be stimulating.
I like to have objects inside me when I am being paraded around in a head down, ass up position. Not too big because I’m not a freakish size queen, but big enough that I can’t move without feeling them. I generally find that firm objects like silicone dicks are better than totally unyielding things like glass dildos. It’s humiliating. It’s exciting.
We can choose the alleys to walk into. Some say anal, some say blowbang, etc and the men have to keep to these themes to avoid things getting out of hand. Not every man is for every woman. But once a group and an alley has been selected we are largely in their power.
I’m here to be fucked, and I’m not here to resist. There is no choice and no consent anymore. I’m helpless, at the mercy of lustful sperm-producers who see every woman as a receptacle for their cum. And I must get a lot of it. I’m thinking 20, 30 big cumshots. Wow.
I stress again, there must be another woman around. After all, I can't see a lot of the action. Good to have another woman who is largely made to do the same things.
...
In the other direction, women depart sore and exhausted and in various states of deshabille. Usually all our clothes have been torn off or confiscated as trophies at some point, and we are allowed to stop at ‘clothing shops’ along the way. Men will demonstrate their power by buying lingerie and other clothes for us.
To make things even trashier, these ‘lingerie shows’ really feature second hand lingerie worn formely by prostitutes, pornstars or strippers and removed during sex or shows. Some of the lingerie was even donated by men after they took these articles of clothing from women as trophies. Now we’re wearing second hand lingerie that hasn’t even been washed, given to us by nasty guys whom we’re supposed to gratefully thank!
All the clothes are trashy. If it isn’t trashy, it has been trashed. Such as power suits for women that are covered in dried spunk. Really disgusting but we have no choice because we have no other clothes to wear.
It would be even more fun if the clothes didn’t really fit us. It’s some version of the rappers-in prison outfit thing. These clothes are either sluttily tight or skimpy, or loose fitting and oversized – but torn up and revealing. In all cases we’re sex objects and know it. Even after we have been used and fucked many times, we still can’t salvage any dignity when we depart. We're not allowed to pretend nothing has been done to us.
We’re all covered in secretions, inside and outside. That much I can say. Cum, cum and more cum. Inside my throat, my womb, my rectum, all over my body and face and hair. We’re leading the female life to the extreme – by collecting lots and lots of semen. I’ve turned into a female stick insect who stores cum for a lifetime. I’ll get enough cum to last my lifetime.
One more thing, in this place sex is the only legal tender currency. I'm sure many of us have fantasized about being paid for sex or being made to perform sex acts in exchange for something. In this place, women have no rights and our money is not legal tender. If we women want something, we have to please some man – flash him something, bend over for him, let him cop a feel, etc. Since all that sucking and squirting and swallowing salty stuff has left me dehydrated, I have to *******. I can't pay for my *******, so I have to suck some dick before I'm given some basic H20 to rehydrate myself.
There is a bus stop at the end called the Hoe Bus. It has pictures of slutty women on the outside. I’m supposed to board this bus, and it will take me home. To make things worse, this bus doesn’t have normal chairs. The chairs are sybians. Or saddle seats with vibrators and vibrating pads. And it is equipped with screens that feature more porno stuff. All of us girls cum and cum all the way home because there is no way to sit on a normal chair. The smell of dripping cum and vagina juices fills the bus. It’s so filthy and stinky! Imagine what my neighbors are going to think when I exit a private bus like this, with all the decals outside, and I look and smell the way I do! The humiliation doesn’t end!
