My rules keep me safe. I know I joke about how slutting makes me serial killer bait, but fuck, it could really happen. Meet a potential sucky-fuck online, chat for a while, exchange some real world contact info, and set off on an adventure to fuck each other senseless. What exactly am I getting myself into?
Promiscuous, perverted perfection, or a fatal fucking, which will it be this time? Let’s spin the wheel and see where it lands!
It’s a gamble, and being safe is paramount. I know it’s hard, if not impossible, to trust someone you just met, so I prefer having a set of rules that I follow in the hopes that they will save me from outing my Slut status to the world in a Law & Order: SVU kinda way.
The reality is, when you are meeting strangers for sex, as Sluts are prone to do, you are engaging in some risky business. And not of the Tom Cruise variety. The kind that could be hazardous to all kinds of things, like breathing on a regular basis and driving home in one piece. Preferably with all our bits still attached, and the bruises only in the places that were negotiated prior and consented to.
So us kinky Sluts have to be careful, especially when these hookups are seriously smoking hot. Cuz we all know that most serial killers are fucking sexy as fuck.
And my slutty nature just loves the dangerous, edgy bad boys. The ones who are bad news in low slung jeans, with a killer smile and a charming, oh so fucking commanding presence. The ones who make me a little bit scared, and totally, breathlessly, turned on. The ones who get me revved up and ready to go, and they know just the right combination of words that ensures a quick panty dropping and major pussy dripping.
Fuck me, I really am gonna die one day.
And I honestly hope it’s not because I followed a rabbit trail to implied orgasmic bliss and blow jobs, but instead found myself on a one-way train to Murdersville. Population one, sexy homicidal maniac, with a penchant for slutty brunettes.
You never really know what you’re getting into. Who you are meeting. Even vetting people, one doesn’t know their TRUE intentions until you are face to face and their proclivities are being played out in front of you. Optimistically, I’ll meet someone who wants to fuck me just the same way I want to fuck them, all kinky and shit, without all the slaughtering and having to die bullshit. I’m kinda attached to living, and I wanna keep on doing that.
There is an inherent risk in meeting someone that you don’t know. And while I can’t keep everyone safe all the time, most of all myself, there are some things that I do to lessen this risk and hopefully ensure that I make it back home after a sexcapade of slutting debauchery.
- I spend time getting to know some mundane details about my new sex partner.
For real, if they don’t want to know anything about you, or share even something simple about who they are as a person, then I just say no. This is for two reasons.
First, it gives me details about them, how their mind works, what they spend their time on. I honestly don’t care if they like to spend Saturday nights knitting hats for cats, wait, that’s actually kinda cool... one four word sentence and I know they care about animals and possibly their grandma spent time teaching them how to make a proper basketweave stitch. I also know they have patience and know how to pay attention to small details. See what I mean? Little details matter.
Second, I need to get a sense of their personality to be able to gauge if I can be comfortable and let go of inhibitions in their presence. How they speak to me and how much they love taking about what is important to them lets me get to know where their head is, and whether they are invested in this actually being good kinky sex, verses a random, and very possibly incompatible hookup.
If they refuse to share any personal details, or deflect questions and bring it right back to sex, then I say no, because I need a connection, a baseline of some kind before I move forward. We don’t have to like the same non sexual things, but we do have to be able to talk to each other.
- Listen to your instincts.
Seriously, if you want to avoid being murder bait, then pay attention to red flags. Those little niggles of “hey, maybe something is off here” are usually right. If something in your gut gets all twisted up when you think of being alone with them, and I mean NOT IN A GOOD WAY, then decline and say no.
If you make it all the way to the meet and get a bad feeling when you’re in their presence, then you absolutely need to (and I cannot stress this enough) GET THE FUCK OUT! Use your emergency exit plan. If you don’t have one of these, make one immediately. It’s fucking important. This is why first meets should be set for public places. And why sex is not always guaranteed the first time you meet in person.
If you lack these instincts, phone a fucking friend, and ask for help. Make a post, write an email, message some-fucking-body and listen to their advice.
Be proactive in ensuring your own safety. Don’t let yourself get railroaded into something you normally wouldn’t do, just because they pushed one of your kinky buttons.
- I clarify my limits, my needs and wants, and theirs.
I want to see how agreeable they are to what is important to me. How accommodating they are going to be when it comes to the actual fucky-fuck. For example, if I say no to anal sex, are they gonna try to talk me into it, continuously bring it up again, hoping for a different answer. Will they try to manipulate me with promises that they are the best ass-fucker in the great state of Texas, and if only I’d try it with them, I’d definitely change my mind. A no is a no, and that should be respected.
I shouldn’t have to convince someone to respect my limits. With or without lube.
Now, asking why, or clarification of a limit or a preference is absolutely received in a positive manner. When I say that I genuinely adore worshipping cock, and I’ll be happy to show them my religion, they can certainly ask me questions about my skills and preferences. Like body hair. Umm, trimmed or shaved is preferable, I hate hair in my teeth.
How forthcoming they are with their own quirks and needs also tells me a little about how they please their partner and if that is important to them, or if they prefer for it to be all about some self gratification.
- My best friend knows everything about you that I do.
Yes, she knows everything. Even the part where you told me that you wear superhero undies and sing show tunes in the shower. With a finger up your butt.
No judgment. We all have a thing.
So yes, she will absolutely know where I am at all times, and who I’m with. And every detail that I know about you. Safety is a big fucking deal to me, and if you have a problem with that, we aren’t gonna fuck.
She is my lifeline and my emergency call. She will move heaven, hell, and all the fucking mountains on this green Earth to find me if I don’t check in with her. And if you do something to me, such as hack me into little pieces and bury my bits in the woods behind an old abandoned woodshed, she will be the first person to hunt you down and carve your balls off with a rusty blade, feed them to you, then march you to the nearest police station where she will execute you in full view of 1000 cops before making a clean getaway and moving to Italy to resume her life as a professional assassin. And she will fucking smile while she is fucking doing it. She is a gun-toting sadistic fucking bitch, and I fucking love her for it.
And if you don’t have one of these friends, I feel incredibly sad for you. Or if you have a problem with me having one, or think my safety isn’t a priority, that worries me. I’m happy to give you my info for your friend. I don’t have a problem proving that you are safe with me.
- Condoms. Fuck yes or no fucking.
Just do it. With a fucking condom. Keep your naked naughty bits safe and in working order. This is not a suggestion. This is real-life, you-could-die-if-you-don’t advice.
I wanna keep on fucking as long as I’m able to, and hopefully when I’m decrepit and pushing a walker, there will be a horny old codger chasing me down the hall, with a hardon that he kept safe all these years by wearing protection. Hopefully we get to have old people kinky sex and shock the residents of the nursing home we live in with all the screams and giggles of the indecent sexual positions we can can finagle our frail old bodies into.
Plus, I want to live long enough to horrify my grandchildren at Thanksgiving dinner by telling tales of all the deliciously kinky sex I had. Yes, I’m absolutely gonna be THAT GRANDMA.
This isn’t a sure-fire method to see if someone is hiding things from you that are crucial to a successful fucking escapade, but it’s a good start. This is way for you to take steps towards safer meets and hookups. It’s a way to find common ground to mutual gratification and smiley sex faces, and lots of orgasms, or bruises, or whatever turns you the fuck on.
Kink safe. So you are alive to do it again tomorrow.
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