I’m In Love With A Gay Go-Go Dancer

For all the years I’ve been blogging about all the fucking I’m NOT doing in this town…I’ve never DRUNK blogged…

Until now.

I just came home from Gay Night at #Avalon aka #TigerHeat #wtf ?

(Can you tell I’m just learning Twitter with all these fucking #hashtags?)

I went for a friend’s birthday…I’ve never seen so much homo ding-a-ling in my face…and I’ve never been so into it.

As I stand atop the stage alongside the DJ booth (Yaaasssss bitch I’m with the DJ, OK?!), I’m enamored with the site of thonged men dancing like divas to a compilation of Beyonce and Nicki Minaj.

Yaassss, bitch, yassss.

I’m currently dancing by myself, a metal waist-high fence separating the doting fans from the dancers.

I’m on the “Doting Fans” side.

And here he comes…

I see his TOIT chiseled blonde-boy butt hop on stage from the crowd, adorning nothing but a bright blue thong and bad boy attitude.

He’s my height…he’s definitely my weight…and he’s got a fierce fire to him that says, “Look at me look at me!”

I’m 4’11 btw.

(OK I’m in 5 inch heels…you do the math!)

I’ve never wanted to fuck anything so small and dainty in my life.

He looks like a mix of Zach Efron and James Franco’s little brother…wtf is that kid’s name anyway?

ANYWAY, he’s beautiful, blonde, and bitchy as fuck up there.

He sashays onto the stage as “I’m A Slave For You” blasts from the speakers, his smile and “I’m Hot As SHIT BITCHES!” attitude enamanting with every smiling split he does.

Yes…he’s doing splits.

Bouncy splits for that matter!

And I’ve never been so turned on…

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Fine, FUCK IT, I’ll Write Something!

So…..I’m gonna be on Nightline…

Apparently I have the most messaged/visited online dating profile in Los Angeles.



As I’m sitting here being filmed going through my OkCupid messages, the interviewer, Miss NYV, says to me, “OK now let’s see your blog!  I heard it’s great!”

Completely forgetting that I used to detail my lack of sexploits around this God-for-saken city…I slowly turn to her and say, on camera, “My blog…?  But some say it’s jerk off material…”

Not removing her gaze from her iPhone, her blonde hair shining from the light pouring in from outside my window, she shrugs and says, “That’s fine.”

I sign into my account and realize it’s been MONTHS since I’ve updated…not only that…

The first thing to grace my face is a shit ton of pictures of me in a see-through corset, fishnet stockings, and my bare butt cheeks.

Hmm…I hope my dad doesn’t watch this.

Staring at my last blog post…I realize the last thing I let you know was the fact that I was stripped and strapped to a board, panting and waiting for the pain or pleasure to ensue.

Visions of that night flood and flush me as I grab my ass in euphorically painful remembrance.

I turn to the camera guy and shrug, “Soooo…I went to this BDSM club…?”

The camera guy, the sound guy, sound guy’s 15-year-old grandson (who came along for the shoot for summer vacation), and Miss NYV wait in expectation to hear what happened.

Turning back to my screen I say, “Well…I haven’t finished that story yet…but long story short…I got my ass BEAT…”

I realize I don’t finish stories on here.

Something about…the end.

Something about you hearing what happened in the end and now…it’s over.

There have been SEVERAL times on here where I couldn’t BRING MYSELF to end it…because I couldn’t bring myself to have you leave.

And then it got to the point where…I wouldn’t start anything at all…anymore…for a long time as you can see BAGH!!

I always say I’d rather stay in a constant state of tense, agonizingly luscious arousal than have 6 constant orgasms in a row.

Cumming’s great…

But that moment before you do….nothing compares.

I guess that’s why I’ve left you hanging.

So fiiiiiine!

I’ll finish it!

For fucking Nightline uggggh!

But just so you know…

I’m back =)

Stripping, Whipping, and Nipple Slipping, Part III

In one swift, fluid motion, The Master heads over to the stage, dragging me only by the base of my hair behind him.


If I’m going to be spanked into my doom…I’d at LEAST like to be valiantly carried!

Without noticing my annoyance, The Master then pushes me hard against the wooden stage, pressing himself hard against my behind and bending me down so that my face is flat on the stage.

Ugh this is totally gonna clog my pores.

The Master: *asking from behind me, his smirk loud in his teasing voice* How much more naked can I get you?

Me: *knowing damn well I’m wearing nothing but crotchless panties, a corset, and fishnet stockings* Umm…I’m…pretty fucking naked already, wouldn’t you say?

The Master: *in a taunting laugh* Haha OH NO…I DEFINITELY wanna take more of this off you…

Me: *shrugging with my cheek still pressed against the wooden stage, my speech slurred from my contorted lips* Whatevs yo…you’re the boss!

Now whipping me around and again leading me caveman-style across the room by my hair (MY FUCKING HAIR!), The Master then stands me in the middle of the crowd and begins to undo my see-through black corset, as I face, wave, and smile to the oogling onlookers.

I figure now’s as good a time as any to see how comfortable I am being butt naked in front of a group of strangers.

I shrug at the thought, oddly unphased at such an idea.

My corset falls to my feet, as I stand bare-bellied in my strapless bra, panties, and leather thigh-high boots.

"DAAAAMN where’d those come from?!" I say to myself as I look down at my yoga-toned abs, which haven’t been present in MONTHS.

Woo hoo GREAT time to be naked in front of people!

"Now take those off," The Master instructs me, pointing to my boots.

DAMMIT….I’m only 4’11 and I’m a good 5’4 in these bad boys…now I’m gonna look like a midget stripper…

Pouting, I crouch down and unzip my boots…now pulling them off one by one as I envision how I’d feel seeing a naked, brown child being spanked by a long-haired an adult…because that’s what these people are in for now that my boots are off!!

My boots now off and feeling rather sheepish in my shortened state, I’m now being led by The Master to a beige, leather doctor’s-office-type of bed…the kind where they roll that weird wax paper on it so you have to sit on it to not disease any other patients??  Yeah that kind of bed…minus the wax paper.

Oh Lord is he gonna spank me in this leather bed?  Cuz that’ll be on par with how awkward and UNsexual the gynecologist is…

Bending me over onto the bed, my bare butt out and high, with The Master standing behind me, I feel and hear a loud *SLAP* against my right ass cheek, as I let out a loud, aroused moan, cocking my head high off the leather bed as I scream, “AAaaooooohhh!  Oh fuck yeah…”

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Stripping, Whipping, and Nipple Slipping, Part II

Now what I didn’t tell you earlier was that Persian Princess is going to the BDSM club for a CLASS TRIP..


She’s pregnant.

Allow me to explain (the first part at least).

She’s getting some sort of certificate in being a sex-pert in the field (we met in Grad School when I was en route to becoming a Marriage and Family Therapist…she still is…I…am not).

Any hoot, part of their training consists of learning everything they possibly can about sex within a given week (and then they get a piece of paper that says they at least know how to give proper blow jobs (which REALLY only consists of sticking your finger in a guy’s ass)…or at least that’s my understanding of it).

Walking into the club, I realize it’s an ACTUAL club: dark and desolate with slow hypnotic music, (empty) concrete dance floor, full bar (with nobody at it), an (empty) entire stage for the DJ, and about FIVE people walking around, 2 of which are security guards.

I then realize it’s only 9:30.

Ugh LAAAAAAME (!!!!) I’m not even meeting up with my drug dealer yet at this hour it’s so God damn early!

Walking over to the nearest security guard, I explain that I’m with some class trip tour group and I need to meet up with them PRONTO.

A balding, bearded, 6’0 Mexican who looks more like a Latin King than the King of safe and secure sex, smiles widely while scratching his beard, puts his hand gently on the small of my back and says, “Yes!  Follow me this way ma’am.”

How gentle of him…he must be the type that gets spanked and spit on.

Walking through the empty dance floor, we pass one dimly-lit room to my right, where inside I see a queen-sized canopy bed with black satin sheets and a purple wall of chains.

Noting my look of curiosity, the security guard tells me, “That’s one of our dungeons…but they’re in THAT dungeon over there….”

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Stripping, Whipping, and Nipple Slipping, Part I

I’ll never knock anything until I try it…because as grotesque and awkward as things may look at first glance…I usually quite enjoy the experience every time…

Even if naysayers are nothing but shocked and vomiting at my expense.

If Miley survived the public MTV twerk-fest looking all 10-year-old white boy in this bitch…then I surely can do no wrong.

So I decided to take Persian Princess up on her request to go with her to the BDSM club downtown, Sanctuary LAX.

This morning I vomited up my French Toast with Vanilla Bean Paste and Homemade Whipped Cream on the sidewalk of Melrose and Fairfax (don’t ask).

Suffice it to say, if I survived THAT social ridicule…nothing in this world is too daunting of an adventure.

Now I’ve never been to one of these things (don’t get me wrong I do beg to and thoroughly GET spanked in bed…I’ve just never done it in a formal setting), but I’ve seen some shit on TV and I assume I need to look like a homoerotic mortician/executioner.

I call to ask for the dress code…I get no answer.

Considering I don’t have any masks, spikes, or spikey leather masks, I decide to don as much black and leather as I own in my closet…hoping to at least pull off Hollywood Boulevard Hooker.

This is a sex thing, mind you.

Here’s what I came up with:




(And yes…I’m reading “The 5 Love Languages” in the last picture…it’s only right)

Now rocking my lucky-crotchless panties, I throw on a pair of sheer, see-through pants as I don’t want to leave my apartment and further strut around downtown LA with ma butt cheeks hangin out (not because of rapists, I’d actually be too easy for them, but mostly because it’s gettin colder out…real talk yo).

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Anonymous asked:

Hey J. We met freshman year of college (no not like that) and were just good friends. My friend and I were talking about college days and your name popped up randomly - my friend said you had a crazy blog going on and linked me to it. I read a couple of entries (very well-written with the appropriate amount of snarkiness, btw) and its awesome you're still the same down-to-earth girl since back then. Weve stopped talking because of complications in college...but glad you're well. Ciao!

Who the hell are you?

I demand to know.

And more importantly…

Have we had sex?

Kidding kidding kidding!

In all seriousness I appreciate you enjoying my blog and reading…seeing as how you wish to remain anonymous, I too wish you well in return =) 

big-walrus asked:

Wow Jayla. I just came across your blog after reading your OkCupid profile. Man, i thought you were interesting on OkC, but you've more than just piqued my interest with this blog. Keep writing Jayla! You do a phenomenal job expressing yourself =)

Thank you sir I appreciate you saying so!

Your blog name has piqued MY interest, as the visual is more than alarming.


j0nawithazero asked:

I have been reading a bunch of your AMAZING AND INTRICATELY WRITTEN STORIES and must say I am in tumblr crush (I believe that to be the proper term) with you. Oh how you make me start to love Hollywood (I hate it because of the fucking horrendous parking and merging onto the damn 101). You now have an avid reader in your midst

JUST SAW THIS and I’m honored to be your tumblr crush haha

And yes the 101 has sparked many a trauma in my life…which is why I vent on tumblr.

Thankful to have you reading! =) 

The Great Turns 21 (Cue Strippers, Coke & Vomit), Part II

I frantically text The Great and Back Door Bitch to come meet me at the bar, as the cab driver slowly pulls into the tiny valet lot in front of Jumbo’s Clown Room.

The place is small, no bigger than a 7-11, and the tiny building has JUMBO’S flashing in a neon sign atop a flat brick wall with nothing but a small door indicating that it’s not a warehouse for sex trading (although it very well may still be at this point).


Don’t get me wrong, I have no issue being at bars by myself (I’m able to meet more Hollywood eclectics that way).

No…I’m more so concerned about me being by myself when Boss Man shows up.

I already freeze in a stunned state of arousal/fear every time I’m around him at work, now I have to be around him in my DTF state?

Recipe for a firing (or promotion?…na not my style).

I cringe in the backseat of the cab as I picture it:

Just the two of us at the stripper bar by ourselves…me belligerently putting alcohol into my system to keep from having a panic attack and desperately wanting him to do push-ups against my subordinate succumbing ass while grunting, “Yeah you like how I crush this little Asian puss?!?!!” and other filthy obscenities about how I’m beneath him and now beneath him, as I scream and whine back in return, “Yeah fuck me like the hookers you pay for!”


I fan my face and clutch my vagina in the back seat.

I text The Great and BDB again: HURRY!!!!!!

"That’ll be five dollars ma’am!" I hear as the taxi driver snaps me out of my trance.

I hand him a 10 asking him for two singles back.  Then I stuff those two bad boys into my strapless hot pink bra with the full intent to stuff them into a stripper’s hot pink pussy by the end of the night (only the most WORTHIEST of strippers of course!)

I get out of the cab and make my way into Jumbo’s, a large 6’3 tubby bald guy bearing the entry way.

Taking my license, he looks me up and down then moves to the side.

"Have fun tonight Miss Jayla," he winks at me.

Walking past him, I let him know “Don’t worry buddy…I’ll have SOMETHIN by the end of tonight” as the sound of my leather boots on concrete now give way to the sound of “Pour Some Sugar On Me” blasting from inside.

This is gonna be an interesting night.

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