Suck & Disorderly

Here's a case of male model sluttiness. Looks as though this Prada model thought he could get off of some public drunkenness and disorderly conduct charges by offering to suck off the arresting cops. Yeah, that's the way you'll beat the disorderly conduct charge.

Valentine's Day Sucks...Literally

And now for a new segment we're calling "My Slutty Valentine"--thoughtful V-day gift ideas for the ho in your life.

Today's is a freezer pop mold in the shape of a penis. Though we're not sure that the color of the mold (in this case purple) is relevant, it is important to note that this mold makes you not just one penis pop, but four. One apiece for your ho and three of her slutty friends.

Or all four for said ho. Depending on how she rolls.

Sneaky Sexin

Submitted by Cat Attack

It was August, and college was starting in just a few short days. It was the last chance I had to make a move on a boy I'd had my eye on for a while. Truth be told, I always planned on being with him, just not in the way I was. At about 5 o'clock in the morning he came over, me and all my friends were sitting around chatting when we decided to call it a night. I went up to bed expecting to be alone. After I was sleeping for a few hours someone was suddenly behind me... I rolled over to see the boy I'd been waiting for all year.

We went a few kinky rounds of sex before it happend. Someone opened up the door and started talking. I tightly grasped his mouth so he wouldn't talk, and told my best friend I'd be out in a few. After another hour of nonstop fun, I decided to call it a night. I rolled over and went to sleep. The next morning, I woke up to a note saying "starting off college right see you when i get back ;)" I went into my best friend's room glowing and she asked me what had happend. I told her that the boy I liked had finally given me what I needed and that I was going home, I'd call her later. To this day, I still don't think she knows I had sex for 3 hours with her boyfriend. We are still best friends and when he comes home for Christmas break, maybe we'll tell her together.

New Year's Reso-what?

Submitted by Lucky Prescott

I know I need to leave. I’m breaking my own rules by staying here for even a second after I wake up. But I don’t know how to just get up and go. It’s like my body is frozen with the fear of being rude. I watch the clock on the building across the street tick away opposite a bright blue sky that looks like summer even though it’s freezing out. I longingly stare at my black g-string on the floor by the closet, sending it telepathic messages to get up and walk its way over to me. It doesn’t.

I’d been doing well with my New Year’s resolution: 354 days and nights without a one night stand. I guess I could have held out 11 more days, but I needed some good sex before heading home to get some terrible sex from the guy I’m quasi dating. Besides, Luke was a conquest. And maybe I was a conquest for him too.

After all, this was a long time coming. We made out at a bar last year, but when he asked me to go home with him, I declined. He took my number, told me that he’d had a crush on me for a while, and then put me in a cab. This time, after talking for an hour or so at the bar, when he asked, “Do you want to get out of here?” the only logical response was “Yes.” I can’t be called a slut this time if I already refused him once before. Right?

We held hands as we walked along the Christmas tree-lined sidewalks, hopping into a cab and going to his apartment. We started on the couch and he carried me to the bed. It was great. It did the job. I actually got off. I actually had fun. And there were absolutely no strings attached.

I hear him groan a morning groan as the clock’s minute hand reaches the hour mark. I give myself a pep talk, say I’ll get up at the count of ten. I reach ten. I don’t move. He wakes up. Gives me a kiss and smiles. And I thought leaving would be awkward before?

Frog Fucker

Submitted by Amber Smith

I'm taking deep breaths. I'm trying not to think, but feel. George's tongue makes me twitch. I can still taste his breath--it's fowl. And he is breathing heavy and blowing it on me. And now his face is in between my legs. But I can't relax. His tongue is everywhere. Often it's in just the right spot. But then it slickly moves, dragging fowl spit on my inner thigh. I can't take it. I start quick sighs of frustration (he thinks I'm excited). Then I try pushing his head back, insincerely when he goes astray. He stops. He comes up to kiss me. He thinks he's teasing me. He is really pissing me off. Turning me off. I smile like I'm faking a lemon is sweet and push him back down again.

"Just concentrate!" I huff. He looks up, confused that I'm angry. Not cumming. I put my clothes back on. I'm over this, I feel, but say nothing. I lay him down and hug him closely. I can feel my insides straining to want him. To take him and kiss him deeply and let him love me the way he wants to. But I can't because I hate his mouth.

Earlier, while watching TV, drinking beers, and kissing, I pulled his tongue out with my thumb and finger and told him: "You know I don't like you (I wish the sentenced ended here) licking my face like that." He laughs that annoying Ernie laugh...or is it Bert? His voice is so strange. And he thinks I think it's cute. I turn the captions on for Family Guy so I can read a hilarious story while pretending to listen to his never ending one.

I straddle him on the sofa. It instantly feels good. And I instinctively know our parts would fit perfectly together. But I want him to smell good. And he doesn't. So I just can't. I feel I'm being selfish, picky, critical, and overly sensitive. And maybe instead of acting like a brat, I could tell him what I'm thinking. But that won't solve his bad breath. And neither will mints. I see him eating them all the time. I let him carry me like a baby monkey into his dark bedroom. This is better. I'm getting wetter. But suddenly, in the dark, his comical voice is disembodied and hence more apparent. I think, Kermit the Frog is trying to fuck me. But his touch. It never stops caring. He's so sweet and good and gentle. He moves in a rhythm on top of me (still tucked safely in his jeans). He's got me spread naked in front of him. Moaning and giggling. Avoiding his exhalations ever so coyly. I let him kiss his way down my body. I want to fuck him so badly but his face will be too close to mine and I will suffocate in his bad breath. Plus I'm really scared what his voice will sound like when we're fucking. So I let him go down on me instead. And that is where this never ending story began.

Happy Birthday to You

Submitted by Lucky Prescott

It was only the first week of senior year, but it was already becoming the semester of Steves—I’d slept with two of them in as many weeks.

That first week was always filled with parties at huge clubs and hot bars, and for the first time in four years, I didn’t have to worry about a fake ID getting me through the door. But there were those issues of having to wait in line and paying a cover charge. That is, until I found out that Steve #3 was a promoter for the parties.

I’d known him since freshman year, but had never called him before. Now I had him on speed dial, finding out where he’d be so that my friends and I could drop his name at the door and get in right away, heading right to the VIP area. Fine, I was using him. But at least this provided him with a following of hot girls.

On the third night, he said that it was his birthday, so as a little gift, I gave him a lap dance at our private table. Later, we made our way back to our dorm (he lived a few floors above me) and parted ways with a kiss at the elevator. Or so I thought. About 15 minutes later, I heard a knock at the door and found Steve #3 in pajama pants, a t-shirt, and a baseball cap—so necessary at three in the morning.

He walked straight to my room and laid on my bed, hands clasped behind his head, and while looking me up and down said, “Now for my real birthday present.” How did this Jaba the Hut lookalike end up in my room, in my bed? Did I have any other choice but to give him what he wanted? After all, he’d been helping me out all week. And it was his birthday. What the hell?

So, we had the sex, and the thing that I remember most is how confident he was, how he didn’t care that he was being somewhat creepy by inviting himself to my room, how he was just shamelessly doing his thing. I mean, it was almost appealing. It almost overshadowed the fact that this was some of the least enjoyable sex I’d ever had. Almost.

A Night with Mr. ADD

Submitted by Luv the Ring

This particular night of my senior year of college started out like every other night: a little pre-game action, then out to the bars, & then post-game action at our favorite after-hours spot (a hole in the wall with a pool table & a jukebox that played Journey). Drunk & on the prowl, all I wanted was to throw myself at some lucky guy & take him home.

Unfortunately, there weren’t many options since girls outnumbered guys at my school, & the majority of those guys were either gay or ugly. But after 12 beers, everyone at the bar looked like Brad Pitt.

And so I settled for this guy – he might have been 5’6” & was a little pudgy, wearing a polo that was 1 size too small. He was president of his fraternity (if I can’t have the looks, why not settle for the power?). After some small talk, we took a taxi to my place.

The thing was, I forgot that I’d told my friend that she could use my bed for her own male adventures that night. So, my guy & I waited in the common area for about 30 minutes until she was done.

Once in the room, he wasted no time taking his clothes off & jumping next to me on my twin bed. I already knew that I’d made the wrong choice, but was too embarrassed to stop making out—until he whipped out his schlong & took my hand, trying to place it on his peni$. It was clear that I wanted nothing to do with it.

He hopped off the bed & paced around my 200 sq foot room, completely naked, his hand on his forehead, his head down, for at least 15 minutes, all the while mumbling about what he should have done, how this always happens, & how he just wanted to have sex already. It was humorous, fascinating, & tiring watching him, but I tried making him feel better with the classic “its not you, its me…im just tired” BS. Finally, he sat down & admitted that he forgot to take his ADD medication.

At that point, I kindly escorted him out.

Wax On / Wax Off

Submitted by Lucky Prescott

Before I found Slut Rehab, I tried to shake my slutty ways on my own. I hadn’t slept with anyone in a while, so when Al Waxman asked me on a date, I figured I’d keep up the abstinence streak.

Our first drinks date went well. He was cute with a good, muscular build. As he gave me a kiss at the entrance to my building, I was happy and excited to go out with him again.

Now, he lives on Staten Island, and since I’ve only ridden the SI Ferry for tourist reasons, I don’t know what getting to the Upper East Side entails, but he’s an hour late for our next date. We head downtown with no specific dinner destination in mind, simply going to an area that he claims “has a lot of restaurants.” Negative. We walk around until my stiletto-ed feet get tired and we go into the next place we see. The highlight of dinner comes when he apologizes for his skin being so blotchy and red—his sister helped him wax his arms, back, and chest earlier in the day and she didn’t do a good job. VOMIT!!!

When dinner ends, my date says that it’s too late for him to go home. I feel bad, so I say, “You can stay at my place, but just so you know, you’re not getting any.” He says that’s fine, and we hop into a cab to head back uptown. When we get there, I immediately jump on top of my bed, jeans and slinky shirt still on, and face the wall, hoping to instantly fall asleep. He lays next to me and wraps his arm around me, kissing my shoulder. Then he starts to hump my leg. I remind him about what I told him before. The humping continues.

I don’t know what about the situation says that I want to hook up with him, and I tell him this, trying to wiggle my way closer and closer to the wall, hoping that I’ll fall down into the crack in between the mattress and the bed. After more humping and no reciprocating, he asks if I’m serious.

Ummm….

Finally, the humping stops and I fall asleep. We go out for breakfast the next morning, after which I assume he’ll go home since, you know, we’re already outside and all. But no, he walks back up the five flights of stairs to my apartment and watches TV all day. Once he starts talking about dinner, I tell him that I have plans and that he’d better go.

Thankfully, I never heard from him again.

Why I Hate Lower Greenville In Dallas

SUBMITTED BY Red Meowmouth

I kept waking up on my friend's futon one night after a disastrous night at a bar; a loud kinky-haired guy from the bar had crashed in the hallway.

The light from downtown came through the blinds. Like a spotlight, I followed it to a fast moving noise - his hand moving swiftly up and down.

The kinky-haired freak was on his back. The hallway wall blocked his face. He couldn’t see that he had woken me up. He just kept on yankin’ it.

I often have to force myself to sleep after waking up from nightmares, so I was used to blocking bad thoughts. Screw this night in Lower Greenville.

The Skinny on Getting a Cab

Submitted by Lucky Prescott

I’m ready to go home. My friend’s birthday party, with its crazily-priced drinks, people stumbling into me on the way-too-packed dance floor, and acrobats swinging from the ceiling, has lost its New York City charm. But I spent all of my cash at the bar and it’s too late to take the subway. I could hit up an ATM, but it would be so much easier to just make out with that kid sitting on the couch who I studied abroad with in hopes that he’ll suggest we get out of here. Fine, his waist is smaller than mine, he has terrible acne, and he’s cocky for no reason, but he has money and probably hasn’t gotten ass in a while. I saunter my way over to “say goodbye” to him, but end up sitting on his lap. Within minutes, his tongue is down my throat. We continue this through Usher’s “Yeah,” Britney’s “Toxic,” and a remix of Snoop’s “Drop It Like It’s Hot.” Then, the moment I’ve been waiting for. After saying goodbye to the birthday girl, we head outside and hail a cab, making out the whole way to my dorm. When we get there, he pays the cabbie. My mission is accomplished.

But his isn’t, so we go up to my room. Now, I never realized how skinny he really was until he unbuttoned his black dress shirt and revealed a sticking-out rib cage and barely-there pecs. I start wishing I had just left him downstairs, but know that I just have to get this over with. I close my eyes and let my mind wander as we kiss some more, eventually slipping between my pink bed sheets and having sex.

I wake up the next morning to him jangling his keys as he puts them back into his pants pocket, his wallet and cell phone going in the others. I look at the clock. It’s 9am and he’s out the door. I roll over and go back to sleep, thankful that he knows the rules of the one-night-stand and that getting home last night only cost another notch on my bedpost.

Directions to SweatyDrunkenSexTown

Submitted by Sheck-sy Back

One night stands are like a box of chocolates--you never know if you're going to get mouthwatering milk chocolate with roasted peanuts and toffee, or unsavory and slightly sketchy nougat with rum, raspberry cream, and raisins (though, 90% of the time it seems to be the latter). But after a few drinks, I'm somehow always willing to reach into the chocolate box and try my luck again.

Case in point: One night a couple years ago, I headed to a bar in Brooklyn to celebrate the birthday of a friend. After several glasses of whiskey, as well as a couple tequila shots, I was significantly trashed enough to start making out with a stranger standing by the pool table (I was also significantly trashed enough to forget his name...four times in a row). Flash forward to closing time, and I'm one of the last folks at the bar. A couple of dudes, including one sporting a major mohawk, invite me to some after party. But after an attempt to find late-night pizza sidetracked us, I found myself back at my apartment with Mohawk Dude and a couple bottles of OE. We were clearly on a one way street to SweatyDrunkenSexTown, which as I recall wasn't so bad...except for one minor detail: Dude would not stop biting and sucking on my neck. Even after I told him time and again to stop. And it HURT LIKE HELL. The next morning I woke up feeling like I had been punched in the neck repeatedly, then run over by a semi truck, and I was sporting some major hickeys running from my shoulder up to my earlobe. Not cool. So when Mohawk Dude woke up, we exchanged pleasantries, and he left….oh wait, just kidding, he decided to stay until almost 5 in the evening, just awkardly and silently lying around my living room, not taking any of my hints that he should probably go. At one point in the afternoon, he stood up and walked out the door without saying a word...only to return half an hour later with large cheese pizza. (So, at least he was good for something.) That night as he finally left, he told me we’d “talk soon"...however this seems unlikely as I don’t remember giving him my number--which I'd say is probably the best decision I had made in the previous 24 hours.