Sunday, 31 January 2010


The magazine flew to the wall with a slam. Julie in her adrenaline haze saw the wooden coloured legs of the model slide against the wall, paper scrunched and cracked. It didn't make her feel any better that the bimbo in the magazine.. who should have been her by the way.. was no longer in her face anymore.

Inside, Julie was every woman provactively posing in a magazine. Inside, she wouldn't just be in her lingerie should she find herself ..waiting..on a bannister. The wood a stark contrast to her warm she would be naked, nothing between the wood and her pussy.

She couldn't do this anymore. Couldn't pretend that it was okay to be a staid librarian, sat primly behind the counter, stamping books sometimes hearing a patronising remark. She loved her job, loved the smell of paper, loved knowing that someone was reading someone' else's art, their life, their heart. But it was far away from her dream of glamour. She wanted to be out in the world, sailing oceans, knowing if she could get sea sick or not, discovering what food she liked the most, having an illicit encounter with a cultured man in a musuem or an art gallery, waking up to the hot sun and learning life as it happened. Instead, she was waiting to earn enough money for that happen. As politically incorrect as it was, when her friends at school once joked she should marry a very rich man, she agreed. There was something erotic and sexy knowing your needs were provided for. And knowing you were protected. And the sex, they would say, what if he was rubbish in bed, she had a dirty enough mind at the age of 14 to know how she could get his dick hard, play with herself in front of him, watch porn together, masturbate each other off, she knew sex was a work in progress.

So what if she liked to dress respectably. She had a short frame but a sculpted, curvy figure. She liked to wear coats with belts cinching her waist, her toned legs in denim and long boots. Underneath she could never wear panties for all anyone knew. She liked to have her breasts supported and she liked to have clothes fitted to the pronounced small of her back and suprisingly pert bottom. She just didn't feel the need to show it off, prefering elegance over thin pointy heels and trendy clothes. The subtlety outside, the beauty of knowing one colour against another, was a contrast to the immediacy she felt underneath her clothes, it went deeper than her walk, her makeup, it was more vital and prominent than anyone could ever know.

Friday, 29 January 2010

Walk all over me.

My fantasy at the moment is to have someone walk all over me. I'm not talking arousal via motion or some woman squishing a skinny man to death, I mean one of my fantasies and perhaps what I am looking for period, is to have a male walk all over me. If it leaves me broken, hurt, torn, murdered inside, then I will have that but I want that thrill. I want a very strong character to dominate me. Sexually and in another way. This is disturbing and more so because in my life I have had to deal with bullying. Don't go all Sigmund Freud over me, I don't need an analysis or a why. It wouldn't make any difference, I don't want my mind to change, I want my fantasy to come true.

To be one of those females beautifully submitting to a guy. But it turns nasty. I'm not talking Ted Bundy nasty. Just someone rough but in an elegant way. Perhaps a strategist. More brain than brawn. The highway man who ties the damsel in distress to the train track. Except I'm no damsel in distress. I'm a potty thinker, mumsily dressed, sweet mouthed woman. Use me and abuse me. Do you think I should just join a club and get whipped every Friday night? (Oh yes please.)

Heaven forbid I should voice all my thoughts, spill all my secrets. Us woman are supposed to have "mystery." ! I'm not a cliche. Do I want a cliche? Ultimately, no. And I won't go for the motorbike reading bad boy.. I find them majorly creepy. I'll even settle for a good man..and yes I would be lowering my "standards" if I went for a good egg.. who has this sexy streak in a viscious way. The thing of it is, I don't want a pushover even if I want to be pushed over. Or pushed around - the more politically incorrect the better. I want someone different.

Part of me is disappointed when I read of the world weary and knowing "Master DOM" who sees this sweet submissive and then talks about the difference between submission and bullying.

On a tangent, I read a story where a man and woman get together and their first sexual encounter does not quite work. And I found it beautiful to read someone not knowing what to do, or to cry, or to be confused and be very very patient.

But whilst that is beautiful, I'll continue with my sadistic little post. Do I want one of my old school bullies to fuck me? NO they're pushovers and not strong at all. I don't want them. I can't pin someone whom I've encountered who I do want, though.

I don't want to tame a bad boy. Part of me likes the -impatience with other people but patience in some way with myself -part in some bad boys but I'm not looking for the romantic type.

You've lost any respect you had for me, I know. And you hate this part of me or just the whole me. But I have to be honest. And I still believe in feminism and equal rights and I still detest the real Belle du Jour woman; you're thinking how I can still believe in these things and talk and call me a hypocrite. I don't know. I don't know how to explain it properly. Or perhaps I do and I have and I just have these wildly different sides. I have this need and I have to share it. I don't think my life will change if I do. But I have to know what I want. Typing it helps. Typing it in a public space; perhaps I have an exhibitionist streak...amongst my pathetic ones. And yes call me pathetic, perhaps it could even turn me on. But you know, it's all in the actions. Don't talk the talk and put on an act. I don't even want role play. I want the whole walk right over me real deal.

Heartbreak and soul kill, here I come.

It's always glamourous to have someone else tell you the tale. The story of the woman who has come from a girl to a sexually evolved woman whose eyes meet with those of a man responsible for that but he is no longer with her. And him still with his new girlfriend but fucking this woman. It's not that he can't resist, that I find attractive..and this story touched on part of what I want, not all.

e[lust] #5

e[lust] #5

Visit is what this post is trying to say.

But don't forget your old friend (me)..sometimes virgins are better, know what I mean?

Short hair.

So the other day, my hair was pissing me off. What's new? And you want to slap me for saying well it's this thick thing and so heavy and you're sitting there with fine hair. But I have always wanted fine, run your fingers through smooth hair. Mine is coarse-ish. And it's not even full of volume despite being thick; it just drags itself down..and that's with my hair being short. And you're thinking we tend to want what we don't have or the opposite of what we have- but it's not like that.

Jennifer Aniston has nice, thick hair, even in the first season of Friends, I have thick hair but it's sure not like hers.

I don't think I've ever had it longer than shoulder length. So when I hear about guys' turn on you know sexily pulling their woman's hair in the heat of the moment or "favourite" .the fantasy of having it in a bun and when it's released, loose cascading waves fall on her shoulders and her hair brushing against his cock. How literature, movies, society, men and women have feminity and sexuality linked to hair....well, see no one put a gun to my hair and said cut! But I just had to do it and when I looked in the mirror with the hairdresser looking elegant and me looking shaggy, not even long and shaggy but short and shaggy, I just needed to have a change and not have this burden. I like to look neat, you know? Have things in order.

NOW I have hair that's too short and I suppose it's all sexy and pixie cut when you're Winona Ryder but otherwise, I can't even look at some people or watch porn (well that 's a lie) until it grows.

I know. And there are people dying out there. I have my limbs, my health (well probably not, I just don't go for check ups to see what diseases are hidden underneath- sexy eh) and I don't like the way my hair looks in the mirror. My face looks better, short hair has always suited my features....not so much my round jaw.. but I don't feel particularly sexy despite feeling sexy..if you know what I mean. And it's not because of society or men: I'm a freak of nature so the usual psychoanalysis doesn't apply to me and that's not just wishful thinking. You know, I'm used to having short hair, I've had it all my life and being overlooked (I'm overlooked because I'm not obviously sexy but the hair has never got the admiration other women get from other women- their age or from men). But I just don't feel sexy because of what I'm seeing in the mirror at the moment.

By the way do any men not already in love with a woman lust after her when she does not happen to have nice hair or not nice but the wild untameable hair people are always "cliche-ing" about? Serious question. I like to get to the truth of things. Then torture myself. No, joking, i think a lot and I freely put out the negative but I do like to know things. Just because.

I wanted to write a blog and talk about even crap stuff like this. It's not like I can't get into erotica because of this..I can ALWAYS get into erotica and sex no matter what (I boast, still it's true) but I just don't feel that fun at the moment because I look downright serious. And you're thinking so smile; just so you know not that many women seem to enjoy having random men telling them to fucking smile. We're not seals there to perform for your enjoyment, you know! (Though we do like it when you enjoy certain parts of us..or any part. Perhaps).

Now for any men reading this telling me how sexy hair is to them- leave it. I'm not in the mood, it's a sore point at the moment. (Can you tell). I have crushes on people regardless of hair, in fact some have had the worst hair ever, I even managed to find Ethan Hawke attractive in Before Sunrise ...know what I'm yeah, freedom of speech not allowed on this one..or just choose your words carefully! *SPANK*

And you're thinking, wear stuff that's feminine. I wear heels and nice colours in scarves as it is. And I'm not sticking a god damn clip in my hair or wearing a god damn pink skirt. *sticks out tongue* (You see a theme? Fridays are the worst; I'm in desperate need of some good spanking erotica). (Perhaps, a short haired heroine?..humph!).

Thursday, 28 January 2010

Valentines Day.

Warning; this is the most full of random bits that have no point post I have written so far. I gave it a title, in truth I just want to blabber on about Training Day. Again. & boys. And sex. The thing is, it's random but I mean it all and am going to do it all. Oo-er.

Today was one of those days when I wanted to be surprised. I don't go looking for suprises, whilst I give my opinions readily, I don't give a lot of other things away. When I say I want to be surprised, I also mean it in a romantic way. And in a sexual way.

Sometimes I want Michael Stevens in my story to surprise me. Truth is, I'm working on that. I don't want to create a cliche and it's really a case of me investing more time in that story to unravel him more. I've certainly unraveled his body. And I've got aspects of his character according to Mel and his feelings towards her in the piece which was from his pov but I look to Slowburn as a comfort and it's just too familiar at the moment. So maybe I need to distance myself from it like I did one story..Those Two..I was quite creative with that. I don't know but I'm not going to unravel his character just for the sake of it, it's just this is the story that won't quit. For me. It's going to continue in ten years, I'll be adding more to it. And the sex..I mean you know I need to surprised in reality about that too for me to write more about it. I can't just rely on me when I'm incredibly horny, you know.

I see so many bitchy men, I mean just today this man and woman went past and he was talking loudly about this woman whom he referred to as the lesbian and said something about how she would look good in a skirt and the woman he was walking with tittered with they do..and then he was all "fucking" this and "fucking" that and I felt nauseous. Guys like that make me puke. Ugh. I know when I was at school I had this crush on a guy - he was SO clever and good at everything- but he was the biggest sad person ever. He would whine so much. He enjoyed the company of women more than men. He was just a bitchy girl! So Michael Stevens is my antidote. I initially and still find Training Day incredibly erotic. Laugh out loud. But, Ethan Hawke- just perfect. His character, his personality is okay and I get the drama, his opposite side of the coin, the stand up to Denzel's not just bad ass but in my opinion psychopath, I get it but his uniform, his mannerisms, his arms, his hair, his eyes, his lips. F.U.C.K. Mike Stevens was born out of my lust for Hawke's Jake Hoyt.

I like boys and men who are creative. Who may not be the smartest or the most noble or the most I don't know ..there..type person. I've often found myself falling for the funny boy in the class. Or the ones seen as losers. The bad ones- because they always said the funniest things to me. I think I like it because I'm weird and a little funny too and I still hang onto my naive hope and I do hope this..that men and women aren't that different. I just don't buy the whole male nature thing. I mean what about evolving as a human?

And when they say men like to protect and find women's vulnerability sexy, that makes me gag too.

I've decided to send myself little surprises. You know that quote from Clueless about any normal girl sending herself flowers? Yeah. I'm doing that. But not for a guy. For me. Happy Valentines Day. I like Valentines Days. I don't like it when a couple snogs in front of me but Valentines Day and the whole commerical thing? Man, shut up! I love the creativity.

Wednesday, 27 January 2010


I have always had it implied I should play down a crush I have on someone or better still not have it at all.

I think if you haven't got honesty or communication, you haven't got shit.

Whilst I don't join my name with the person I have a crush on or have fantasies we will get married and have tons of babies, never have done never will, I do in my honesty say from time to time when prompted, that I would gladly have a one nightstand with them. Whether it was a crush from school, I said it at the time, I'd give them a blow job in a heartbeat, I actually would, or a crush in my adult years, it's still the same intensity. Which is intense. They are part of the person I am in some way; they influence me in some way. I'm an excellent stalker and observer. I can also get over a crush and get back to it again. I can also know that my fantasies are just that, fantasies and that the intensity of my crush does not mean we are destined to spend a night together. And I don't believe in destiny but I do believe in the other person's will. In no way will it be a forced "seduction", I will make sure they feel intensely about me too. I'm very perceptive. Perception, observation of people is all I have and what I have.

And I talk about it. At every given opportunity will I make my feelings known even to them and let it be known I am not afraid of anyone's opinion of me and my crush or their own opinion of me.

It will be in every writing and their voice, face, actions, expressions are there too.

I have a crush on someone working in a pharmacy. I told one person about this. Today, no matter what and despite it all, I saw someone who from the corner of my eye I thought might be him and my heart skipped. I looked and it was not him but I looked at the person who resembled him in some way.

I also have a crush on someone who doesn't work in a pharmacy. This is more the one night stand thing; I don't know him and have never seen him offscreen. You know who it is. I won't say the name out of shyness more than embarassment. I like his voice, his depth, his lips and his arms.

The crush in the pharmacy could be married for all I know. Like that matters to me. When I think about it, the more determined I am despite my shyness and experiences with certain men and bitchy women and bitchy men, to make it known that sexually I'd do anything for and with him. Only if he liked me though. And that is not empowering. It's just the way it is.

And it's not because he's local, his being here is something that doesn't keep me alive or have as a last straw in any way, rather it's just his face I liked. I think about him and I hope if I ever see him again and he's walking with say a tall skinny blonde or maybe he's gay..this pharmacy guy..I hope that he looks at me because I, trust me, always look and make it known I'm looking. I have no shame. But if he is gay..can't he be bi..just for me! The things I would let him do to me.

It has now come to me that maybe this rude guy..this other one i "encountered" was him, i doubt it but if it was and i seriously doubt it, fuck him. But if it wasn't then yeah I'd like to fuck him.

Tuesday, 26 January 2010


Photos I love. This is how I want Scott fucking in my book, Detective Stevens fucking Mel & Ed Dalton fucking me in my Daybreakers fanfic.

And now a book which I love,

“One day soon, I'm gonna fuck you without a condom. I want to feel your walls around me with nothing between us. I want to feel your ass tighten around me with smothering heat.”
She whimpered, nodded her agreement, and spread her legs as far as the snow pants would allow. He slid inside her sex in one smooth stroke. He didn't bother going slow, and she was glad of that. No, he pumped her hard, one hand holding on to her shoulder, and the other stroking the flesh of her ass cheeks.
“Bend over, and hold on to the cushions tight.”
She did as he told her, lifting up on her toes and leaning down, grabbing the cushions in her fists. One hand slid around her hip to the front of her body, his finger coming to rest against her clit, teasing the little button. She gasped. In midbreath, she felt him slide a slick finger slowly into her ass.
“Breathe. That's all you need to do. Breathe. God, you are so fucking tight.”

Lissa Matthews. Sugar Rush. Available from Loose id.

Monday, 25 January 2010

Just not good enough.

Knowing. Accepting. Moving on.

It happens every day. Something that implies I am just not good enough.

I like to do the best I can. I think this applies to a fair few human beings. Some want to be the best but some want to do the best they can do.

Appearance wise- I never knew how much my appearance will affect my daily life and as a result of being bullied 20 years I don't have the confidence for the right eye contact skills and am patronised in my work. I am doing my best. One embarassing situation - I have seen it seems for them more so than me -makes me think I can put it right on the next one. I will one day.

I have what I have. And I don't have what I don't have. It is clear that my round face, dark eyebrows, my hair the way it is not good enough when it comes to sexual attraction or status. You may question what I'm saying but I KNOW. And you will as a reader have to have enough faith in me to listen and take it on board even if it defies what YOU see. And you will ask why this is important to me, I'll say it's not and ask why you didn't read the paragraph above this one properly. Or did you just not get it? I'm sorry if I sound rude.

But I can not change my face unless I go through something drastic. I have the seen the glances at my legs and then when reaching my face, the looks away. It used to be my breasts before, as if that is all I have going on. I have seen the looks bang between my eyes as a way of intimidation by men and women. I have been banged in the arm and bag knocked off my shoulder without even consideration to know that I am not according to some people worth the consideration. I have heard the sounds of annoyance when having to move around me heaven forbid - I am a small girl and I have eyes, I know it's not lack of space that annoys them, rather me.

I know the men who are attracted to me, they seem to fit a pattern; African men or white, short men with no hair or short or older Indian men. I know the ones who don't fit this pattern look straight to my friends, sister or mother. This has always been. And I know the men I have been attracted to became attracted to me but were initially not so or embarassed that they were. I saw the signs- of attraction, of embarassment. And I know any man I am attracted to now I can't ever hope for that attraction to be reciprocated unless they get to know me. And that is not good enough for me.

It has been made very clear. The patronising- I don't always acknowledge it in public but I know when I see or experience it. I know that if I do acknowledge it, it makes absolutely no difference. And that is what hurts. That my personality; my words and my eye contact is not even good enough to have any effect.

Yet, knowing that I am not good enough I move on forward. I can relate to male characters in movies. I find inspiration mostly from male characters in movies (and one female from Memoirs of a Geisha- just for her strength as a human being). I see the news and I read a lot fact, fiction and after I realistically think back to what happens to me daily, I take on some of the spirit that was shown in Master and Commander, laugh all you want - who do you take on- Jordan?! - and I say fuck you, you have ruined my innocence, my naiveity, my wishes, my dreams, ever thinking I could have some part of glamour in my life, knowing that when I wear lipstick and jewllery, you mock, but you have not ruined ME. You've made me stronger because I need to be. My spirit may crumble, I may not always conquer but I will survive. My ambition hasn't lessened. And my sexual desires, needs and wants are stronger than ever despite my lack of belief in my own sexuality; it's weak. Despite my low self confidence I have no problem in feeling sexy, in exploring myself, in knowing my mind.

Saturday, 23 January 2010

Look deeper.

Her name is Violet and I'm not jealous of her, I am her. On the cover of the story book she looks like Megan Fox and when she asks her male friend to meet a girl friend of hers, he says no to the sweet looking girl. He wants Violent only. He says she is beautiful to any red blooded man. He wants to dominate her. Fuck her even if she says no. Spank her. He knows what she really wants and she has feline eyes and sharp teeth that are big and pointy. I don't. But I want to be fucked and spanked. I'm not jealous of her because I am her inside and my short, plump lips will be betters than hers because the fit will be tighter. And my deepset eyes don't give away as many secrets as hers. It's funny how a book that you think you will hate has the most provocative dialogue and hero and is so on your level.

Friday, 22 January 2010

More Slowburn.

If it seemed like she was intensely into it and that she got that way often, it was to completely lose herself. She had not slept for a few nights and every emotion she felt, felt heightened. She could lose herself in one hysterical sob but tears made her feel worse. Sex wasn't a cure but actually Michael cured her in some way. And in some ways he was dangerous too. There was not a thing she wouldn't do sexually for him..even if it didn't please her. He must know that. He must have been able to sense it but not once did he take advantage. No, instead he controlled himself so much.

To know you are being protected is possibly the greatest feeling you could have in your life.

"Are you okay?"

She nodded not turning to look at him. She was topless and a hot sticky mess. And horny.

"What made you stop?"

"Me." She closed her eyes.

If only the bad memories that were recycled into existing parts of the day would disappear entirely, she would give him her whole heart, body and soul.

With a gasp she opened her eyes. She hadn't feel him touch her. But he was. And the car had stopped. And they were no longer on the road. He had pulled over. She looked back at him.

"Did you know I felt numb?"

"You were somewhere else." He said.

"I'm just not sure how to deal with pain. I just don't know how to stop it. And it hurts, but maybe I'll become numb. Hey, what happens if I become one of those numb women who don't feel a thing when their hus..boyfriends..screw them?"

"You're not a numb person."

"So why are you crying?" She whispered tremelously.

She heard him swallow.

"I'm going to make love to you and then we'll talk."

They both nodded sadly at each other. Yes he was going to make love to her and yes she felt her heart BEAT. Yet there was something that was going to die today.

Weight and sex- this time it's men's turn.

You could use the phrase double standards. But in a blog post I hope is broadminded I don't want to start of with a cliche. A cliche whilst having an element of truth can be narrowminded. I also don't really want to talk about double standards between men and women because the state affairs are in, I would much rather do something about that. I feel many people have talked about this far more articulately and widely than I could in one blog post.

I'll get straight to the point; would you have sex with someone who would be classed as overweight or obese? When women put on weight, some of it helps to accentuate the differences between a man and woman especially in bed; hard (to an extent) and soft. Then there's extra flesh on tits and ass being something some men like to hold onto so it can be sexier.

I despise the term real woman. Or real man. I think what is really meant is realistic. Because unless you work out everyday, you are man or woman going to be just a tad soft somewhere. So whilst i heard some women refer to a man with Russell Crowe's build after Gladiator as big and cuddly..and same reference to say Vince Vaughn, I haven't heard say Danny DeVito being referred to in the same way. He's cuddly but he's short. Some men like shortness in women; cute, more feminine, are two words I have heard (they're not my words) with regards to short women but short men? So say there's a short overweight or obese guy..would you ever wish you were being fucked or made love to by a taller guy? And why? And is he thinnr in your fantasies?

And why do common (?) fantasies feature some hard body resembling guy? I actually don't drool ..okay really you want to hit me..over the stereotypical male model guys. I'm very much a mannerisms and face woman. Not even the eyes, just a twist of the mouth. So I never found erotica featuring a guy who's hard everywhere..seriously ladies come on, that's just mean poor guy would have to be in the gym 2 hours everyday!..a turn on in itself. They talk about persona. A body to match the persona? Come on! BUT if that is what turns you on, what are your thoughts about this?

I welcome all opinions on this and any post on my blog. I get passionate but I promise death threats will be saved for people who call me names!

Wednesday, 20 January 2010

When you can't get any satisfaction.

I've yet to recieve my toy.

By the way what am I supposed to imagine? There just isn't enough stimulus..there's too much but it doesn't go the direction I want it go in. Which is deep, intense and unpolitically and unjustifiably (word?!)sexy.

Porn is for when Ive gone without masturbating for days. I don't have a problem with the diversity of porn. I can get off of almost any porn but I am actually unable to go on a certain website at the moment, technical errors but in a way it's good as it was quite costly and obviously I'm going to pay more when I'm getting there but am not close enough to get there without that kind of stimulation. It's more than visual, porn is just plain dirty. So I have only a few websites I can go on and they aint that diverse. Therefore, I have to wait a couple of days before I find them excitingly stimulating enough to get me off.

Erotic romance ebooks really should not be porn. I write porn but I would love to be able to write erotica. That's my definition of erotica. If you don't write erotica just say you write porn and don't pretend to be some big shot author. My sex in the "story" itself is pure porn. It's not romantic but I dare say the storyline (what limited there is) can be. Not in the traditional sense because there's a few traditional thoughts I can not ever buy such as love at first sight. Lust at first sight exists but love? Sure you can get a feeling about someone other than lust but is it love? You're that sure? However, it may exist. What is incomprehensible to me could exist - of course- but I may never believe it.

And then there's the decriptions of the heroines. The men are cliches that's a given but theyre ones I enjoy. It's the heroines that can turn me off. Mostly I read about chestnut brown hair tumbling in waves. Or blondes. Or the heroine has the oh so perfect chin reaching bob. And being someone who has never gone for someone else based on hair I don't need to be fed something that sounds like a shampoo advert. Yeah I can wax lyrical about mousy brown hair in my "stories" but it's not something men get fed, you know?

By the way I know about turn on and women's hair. I know for some men as incomprehensible as it isnt supposed to make sense anyway..the length of hair is a factor. Shallow and I can't see why they can't have amazing sex with someone whose hair turns them off initially unless they're not evolved individuals.

Then there's the cliches. The justifying, the very specific turn ons, the women changing themselves to get the man of their dreams by adapting to those turn ons and incoporating them in their sexual relationship with the guy and the two dimensional evil characters (esp bitchy women)- something I am guilty of too. (They tend to add drama).

If by the way you wonder about my quotation marks for the word story it's because I once wrote one which happens to be my favourite where there's an incident causing a detective to come to school and the incident itself is so unclear and written very amateurishly. (word?!) I can make fun of myself and tough shit if it comes off as putting myself down. I haven't done that at all in my post. I'm on missions but not every blog post is part of my more power for women mission.

Sometimes I need so much more when it comes to sex which I can't find in books, in movies, on the net despite me..extensive research, I have a lot of time on my hands and I can't find it in masturbation. Perhaps I will find it with a toy. But I know I'll find it in sex. I can surprise people for sure..perhaps their expectations of me are low thanks to the way society is..yes I blame society since everyone decided fake tans were sexy and used words like hawt over their well used (I dread to think) Maxims.

Tuesday, 19 January 2010

Madonna, Sex and the City versus the women who don't.

I was watching Sex and the City last night. I like the show. I like it for the friendships and talk and the fact it raises questions and issues and more importantly it raises the bar for honesty. However, in the episode I watched Samantha (the blonde) meet a guy who is very very well endowed to the extent women do not want to go near his.. him. His cock is massive but they don't show it. They'd probably show a woman's abnormal boob though. And by abnormal I mean that literally as in not normal, not as in repulsive or in any other critical way. I was like okay, whatever, brush that thought aside, let's just watch. Then I was laughing at how she has to have a cigarette when he's easing his way into her and they're both breathing like you would when giving birth, Kim Cattrall has a great onscreen sense of humour, and ..well it's just too big. Poor guy. I was disappointed with it being Samantha that she didn't as Samantha tends to do grab an oppurtunity with both hands. You know give him a blow job. I mean think about it, the biggest dick she's ever had, the poor guy hasn't had sex in a long time judging by his weary look (man, that was funny) so it's something I would do and I'm not as forward as Samantha or even Carrie or Miranda. I beat Charlotte though (hehe but who doesn't) - joke.

And then today I was thinking about Madonna. This so called sexual icon. Famed for her atttitude and quite frankly balls. What happened to them? I mean yeah it was an act. I figured that out when she was insulting Letterman during her earlier career but I think all non conformists eventually conform. Rebellious actors eventually win that Oscar after a campaign on their side, I dont buy the bullshit they dont campaign for themselves, and bohemians and eventually sell out. Free spirits are trapped in some way and sometimes are never happy. So what are you rebelling against? What happened to sexual progression? Have we evolved even as human beings not just in sex but in our minds? Does everyone have to buy into something even if they do not want to and shut up or end up becoming very depressed or taking their own lives? At least it's best to be honest. And unafraid and I'm not so sure about people who say they are not afraid- i see fear in the way they defend themselves or their opinion. I'm on the fence on some stuff and I'm not afraid to admit that. "Admit" it's a crime. Say, I mean.

I don't want to become cynical, weary and old in my heart. Tradionalists are actually the kind of people I look up to.

Monday, 18 January 2010

Pictures I like.

There's this bangle I'm wearing that's leaving marks around my wrist xo

Thursday, 14 January 2010

The truth.

I know there's a lot of bullshit about.I know people say there's a lot of bullshit about on the internet. But for me it's always been hands on the number one place to get information. I never realised I could make good friends on here though. And I have.

One friend whom I really hope to meet one day gave me wonderful information about sex toys. Now can you imagine going up to your circle of friends and saying oh what sex toy do you use? Okay since programs like Sex and The City it's no longer a taboo to consider your own dare I say a woman's satisfaction with or without a man. However since my friends and I are not even in the same town as each other anymore and have lost contact, talking about sex is not possible. And I like to talk about sex. Before, at school it was a godamn competition. People were so patronising. I pity anyone who got !exposed! as a virgin or worse a !slut! I think the first is beautiful and the second can be during sex.

This will be my first sex toy. I always thought it freaky to stick a piece of plastic there but I want achieve- I'll be blunt here- more than clit stimulation during masturbation. I want it all. Could I get anal too; this is where I start my journey!

So this fantastic person recomended me a website. And it's not Ann Summers. (So typically British it's not British or is it? Are we really so behind? Yes I think we are behind.) Omg, that's a load of SHIT compared to this. The website and what I brought I won't say just yet until I have received my product. And used it to my satisfaction.

I am excited. For me it's a step forward. Knowing I can learn more about my sexuality in terms of myself, what I like (to be honest I can see myself "liking" the whole damn lot; you name it even foot fetishes, golden showers and yucky stuff I actually think okay let's go there- what's it got to do with sex toys? I like to ramble). So to be able to practice in pleasing myself and using my fantasies as role plays and situations where I'm not just in bed pleasing myself is good. Tmi? Honey this is expressyourkink.

One thing I may draw the line is the whole farting thing during sex as a means of giving and getting pleasure. We're all human but I have always find farting in general gross ; in my mind it's one step closer to taking a dump in public and that doesn't even go to the so horrfic you have to try it level.

So really how do I close the post after this? I was going to say I want to always be able to find the truth. And in focusing on what I want and what I can give, I further and further lose interest in really stupid things like the Dail Mail (totally sensationlist) and silly little boys for men and bitchy women. And the truth is more so available on the Internet than other places. And here's to evolving and finding your truth. However the jump to this from well, turd, or what could be the lack of jump to the great journalists and discriminating bloggers out there, is not really working so there's no official way to close this post up.

Wednesday, 13 January 2010

Daybreakers. Fanfic.

"Anyone can be human. It's possible. We have discovered a cure. But.. they only have to want to be human."

I was working under Edward Dalton. It was my first day at work and not being particularly talkative and feeling uneasy, creepy and shy, I ignored as best as I could Dalton's penetrating eyes. I was introduced to all the staff in the Haemotology department where Dalton was chief. It wasn't his magnificent reputation for his work or the fact he had sacrificed his immortality and risked his vampire life to become a mere human again, it was purely for my own sense of humour that I decided to take a job here. I was to be working in administration but Haemotology was a tight department. Everyone knew everyone else very well - professionally speaking. Even the uneasiness I felt which stemmed from that, did not make me lose sight of my idiotic behaviour. You see I'm anaemic. I have lost so much blood in the past that even with transfusions I remain bitterly cold, have ice cold finger tips and white, white nails with no pink. After one of my transfusions where I was allowed to go home, my parents threw a party and invited the Haemotolgist where they told me to thank him for his work. It's something I would rather and have forgotten but after years of not knowing what I wanted to do or be when I grew up I decided to apply to Haemotology. I was good with filing and taking orders. I may as well have some fun whilst doing so.

It wasn't so much fun now. I wanted him to look away. I was embarassing and he was obviously not. When I looked at him he turned away and I wanted to puke my guts out right then and there on him.

I took relief in the fact that Audrey had not turned up to visit him. Yes they were quite the couple I learned from Google 2019. I was sure she was busy with saving the world, something I admired her for but their golden friendship would have only added sting to my nauseous state.

Of course it's not like I loved him or anything hideous of the sort.

I was too busy anyway with fending off mine and everyone else's demons and monsters to be stuck in an imaginary love triangle.

Trying to keep my bile in, I turned to ask one of the nurses if I could leave the room.

I'm fucking back.

Oops language.

Yeah also re a lot of things; i do not CARE.