Perversions.

Four things I didn't think I would like to try but turns out I would, I haven't blogged about them before (you're wondering what could possibly be left..)

In no order,

1 Whilst I'm not interested in "golden showers" no matter how sexy the person is in bed, I wouldn't mind being hauled off after having a pee and having someone fuck me right in my pussy right then and after. And if I still haven't finished...

2 You're married? I'll throw caution to the wind and my morals, since you don't have any, and have you fuck me aand if you moan your wife's name in my ear, that won't even throw me off. USE me.

3 Pose provactively, well as best I possibly could, and post that on facebook. You'd see a lot.

4 Feet. Yes, feet.

Introducing a new website.

http://demonvampirehorror.blogspot.com/

I've met a new friend and it's always great for me as someone who writes as a hobby to see someone else develop their passion and become an author. And it's a departure in what I read and departures are good, surprise yourself and give it a go, it looks very cool and thought out, there's even music. In fact one day I'd love to be able to update Kinky without making it Porny.

Happy Easter, I hope you all get some rest and some peace and some nice food.

I sort of want to put this in My Diary (I sort of have too much time on my hands)

but this does contain elements of kink, yeah like my other diary posts are as wholesome as a mum's blouse - which is not that wholesome. Moving on, when someone says something, it can be as a joke, I just think wait a minute..I hang onto what they say. I've realised it's because I have this habit of comparing myself to other people, there's a slight competitiveness (sp) there and I keep thinking of the time I watched this programme about an athlete who said when he's running he doesn't care or think about anyone or anything else, "it's just me on that track" no one else exists. IS his aim to win the race? Isn't he trying to be faster than the others..or is he just trying to be the fastest HE can be? But can you imagine how the world would be a better place if we just did what he did..he won races, he had a great interview style, he came off as polite and learned..I was pretty much in love with him..I'm joking but I wanted to be him, 'cept I didn't have this want to run back then. I have now but then nowadays I want it all..and that's aactually not because I compare myself to others but just because I really do want it all.

You can drive yourself crazy by focusing on others and yourself compared to others more than when you focus on you. It's just I give off the impression I dont do that and I KNOW that pisses people off, some people will just stare at me like I'm off in my own little world or I'm snobby but im actually trying to avoid conflict by staring back at them because it fucking hurts me when I do that and see what I see.

I want to move on from this.

I was reading an erotic ebook called Do As I Say by the fabulousy named Penn Halligan. A few reasons why I love this book and I need not explain because the quotes are self explanatory. Let's just say what Robert the hero says, hits it home totally for me.

It's a great book, very sexy, very erotic. A side note, there's a character called Neil and then there's Robert with my DPS fixation and all that adds to the sexiness..though understand I dont fixate on the actors especially Robert Sean Leonard since his admiration for a certain actress but his character Neil..really grew on me, in a big, big way. I'd do Ethan Hawke any day of the week, he just became mind numblingly hot to me after Training Day and with all his perfect articulation in general and ..)

Good night and thank you Penn Halligan..you have articulated beautifully and dead on what I want and now I'm closer to knowing what I want.

Do As I Say by Penn Halligan is available from Noble Romance Publishing. "Mae Southall is an independent woman who is not above breaking the rules if it suits her. She relies on no one but herself. Sex is fine but on her terms. When she meets the darkly handsome and mysterious Rob, Mae learns that sexual submission has its benefits.


Robert Parker is Mae’s new boss. She just doesn’t realize it yet. He has a few rules of his own. The first one is that he’s in control when it comes to sex. Her mind may be her own but her body is his to do with as he wishes. He requires her total surrender to him."


"Mae longed for a strong man to take her in hand and make her do all the things she longed to do. As much as she needed and insisted on control in her life, she wanted someone to come along and yank that away from her. Mae craved someone strong to take her on. And there ain't no such man. What a shame. "Men are too predictable."

He smiled. "How so?"

"They want one thing." And right now, so did she. However, Mae knew the best she could hope for would be a date with 'old reliable'—her purple dildo—which she kept in her 'naughty' drawer by the bed. A few strokes, a bit of fantasizing over tall, dark and gorgeous, and she'd come like a porn star. Nowhere near what she needed, but she'd just have to settle.

"Sex."

"Yes." What would it be like to have his massive body cover mine? The words 'total possession' came to mind.

"Women withhold sex from men in order for the man to pursue them, to prove his worth. And yet when a woman gives in to pure lust and need and lets the man take her without any games, she tires of him because she wants more."

Yeah, that was pretty much dead-on."You know it all."

"I like to think so." He reached out his hand, his fingers clamped gently around her wrist. "You're fascinating.""


Another part that was dead on for me,

"I have nothing to say." Mae pulled away from him.

Robert wasn't about to give up that easily. In one swift move he grabbed Mae around the waist, hunched down and picked her up in a fireman's lift over his shoulder.

"Holy shit!" Mae clutched at this back, her head hanging down toward his ass. "Let me go."

"Shut up, Mae." As much as Robert loved her fighting spirit, he wanted her to understand and accept what they had together.

"You shut up!" She slapped her hand on his ass. He swatted her butt in return.

Robert needed somewhere quiet, away from prying eyes. He needed Mae to understand and accept what he had already concluded himself. They were meant for each other, destined to be together. The men's room was the first door he came to. Robert kicked it open.

"Oh yeah, this is very glamorous."

Few women made Robert smile as she did. He placed Mae on her feet and caught at the hand he instinctively knew she would use to slap him. He lifted her palm to his mouth and kissed it instead.

Mae's eyes went wide. "Um . . . ."

"Yes, baby?" He knew she was confused. That was understandable. He was feeling a little the same way. After he left Mae at the house he had walked for what seemed like miles, thinking about her and him and the possibilities.

"You used me!"

Strong women like Mae hated to feel manipulated. The problem was they could never see their strength demanded an equal strength in return. " (The best line I have ever read this far period).

I am so excited about this book

AND NOW I HAVE A BLURB FOR Sweet Caroline by Lissa Matthews!!!!

"Blue Jeans and Hard Hats, Book 1


Buck doesn’t do personal projects. Until he runs into a woman wandering the aisles of the local home-improvement store, looking lost and confused. Just the way this fantasy looks at him nearly buckles his knees. In a hot second, the successful owner of a contracting company becomes a simple handyman, ready and willing to get as personal as the lady will allow.


Since her less-than-golden marriage to the local golden boy ended, Caroline’s declaration of independence includes her own business, road trips…and nipple piercings. Now it’s time to cut the last tie to her old life, but the house needs some work before she can unload it and move to her dream cabin in the mountains. Hard as it is to admit, she needs a little help.


Over the next few months, he shows her his toys, like hammers and drills, and she shows him hers—like floggers and paddles. And their attraction is the tinder that could send Caroline’s plans for an independent life up in flames…


Warning: In this book, there are sightings of glass dildos, leather belt bindings, nipple rings, wicked clamps, cherry cheesecake and a hot, yummy handyman-type guy who’s really good with his hands…"


Just for completion sake I've put everything I know about this book on this page!

I think the cover proves how much he means buisness. I really enjoy Lissa Matthews' heroes, they're no nonsense and have a depth and adventurous side. I don't really encounter men like that outside of fiction, they seem to either go one way or the other so it's great to read about someone whom I can relate to myself but they're a step ahead of me too. And her heroines are my kind of people, let alone women, my kind of humans.

When I read the first excerpt, I got tears in my eyes, honestly. The second excerpt makes me get that jolt and rush repeatedly which sounds perverted but the story is already meaning a lot to me.

Sweet Caroline is released from Samhain Publishing in 28 days time, a February month's time so not long to go!

Sneak Peek at the shopping scene in Sweet Caroline; http://lissamatthews.blogspot.com/search?updated-max=2010-03-10T13%3A37%3A00-05%3A00&max-results=7

“I’d have never guessed you’d be interested in clamps.”

“Oh!”

Caroline, the object of his affection, his lust, his raging out of control hunger jumped, startled, and dropped the items in question on the ground. She bent to pick them up and when she stood straight again, she looked at him, not avoiding his eyes as he’d expected since that’s what she usually did. In this place though, the small hole in the wall adult toy store and lingerie shop, she seemed different, more sure and certain of herself. It was odd to him because most women he knew or had known, wouldn’t ever admit to being in place like this, much less admit to liking any of the store’s contents.

“There are a lot of things I’m interested in that I’m sure you wouldn’t have guessed at.”

Buck’s dick did just that. Bucked. Of all things he thought she might say, that was definitely not it, but now since that it was out there… “Really? Then by all means, Caroline, enlighten me. Show me what you’re interested in.”

For a second he thought she would decline and walk out, but she tilted her head slightly and regarded him. A blush stole through her cheeks, but she kept her head held high and nodded.

“These. I’m interested in these.”

She handed him the clamps. They looked like miniature clothespins, but he imagined they’d hurt like a bitch.

They were heavy for being so small. “What else?”

She looked down and pulled another package from the rack. “These.”

Japanese clover clamps. His favorite. Not always the favorite of others. He used them on some of his more adventurous lovers. Loved the look of them hanging from a pair of breasts, the chain being its own instrument of torture when tugged and pulled. Caroline said she was interested in them, but had she tried them? Did she know what kind of pain and pleasure she was looking at? The clamps looked harmless enough sitting in their plastic bubble packs, but taken out, put on naked, tender nipples and they became anything but harmless.

“Have you used these before? Either of these?”

The blush deepened, and that damned little tongue of hers came out to swipe at her lips.

“Yes. A long time ago. My… Derek used them on me. Before everything went south with us, we used to play with toys a lot. He liked clamps.”

Derek was her ex-husband. Divorced for four months or so, he knew Derek had gotten remarried this past Christmas to the younger than should be legal for a fifty year old man to marry girl he’d left Caroline for. Buck couldn’t begin to know how Caroline had felt or what had been going through the other man’s mind to leave her, but Derek’s dumbassness and loss was Buck’s gain. He wasn’t about to squander the gift fate had dumped in his path at the Lowe’s Home Improvement store.

“And you?”

She looked him straight in the eye, something she rarely did with him. He liked it and hoped she would do it more often. “I grew to love them and now find that I miss them.”

Holy… He held on tight to both sets of clamps. “What else?”

Caroline looked around and walked over to the back wall. Floggers, whips, and crops hung on hooks at various heights. She took her time looking from one end of the wall to the other, from floor to ceiling. As he watched her take them all in, he noticed the blush was gone.

“These, but none of these. These are toys, novelties, play things. Derek knew a guy thatwho made them, and he taught me to appreciate the handmade craftsmanship, the sting that came with something being made to specifics. He spent a lot of money on toys and instruments, but always felt it was well worth it.”

Buck nodded. He used to make his own floggers and had tried his hand at making a crop, but that wasn’t his forte. Hie knew some guys that made amazing crops and some of the most beautiful whips.

He hadn’t made anything in a long time. Hadn’t had anyone to make anything for but maybe Caroline… “In general, which of these instruments do you like?”

“In general, the crop.”

How in the hell he was going to form any further thoughts, words and sentences? She was flaying him open at every turn. Outside she was this pretty but plain woman he’d never imagined would have a river of molten lava running through her veins. “Anything else?”

She turned and walked up to the counter, standing on the opposite side from the clerk. Inside the glass case were glass dildos. Behind her, Buck hung his head and closed his eyes. He was hard before, but now with clamps and crops he was in jaw clenching pain. But there was more. There was Caroline, looking at glass cocks that would be, could be, should fucking be used inside her.

“I like these. No, that’s wrong. I love these.” She pointed to a red and purple swirled one that was about the same length and width as him at his hardest. He swallowed and it was hard to do past thatthe lump in his throat. “This is my favorite. I don’t know why, but… It’s the most realistic looking, and it’s how I imagine passion to be if it were in color.”

He had no idea what to say. Pretty much knew that words wouldn’t come out. Instead of even trying, he placed his hand on the curve of her waist where it flared out to her hip. He squeezed lightly, and she leaned back into his body. It wasn’t what he’d been expecting, but hell, nothing about her was what he’d been expecting, not from the first moment he’d met her and definitely not today. He knew she could feel his erection. There was no hiding it. No denying that he was harder than a hammer. She didn’t rub her ass against him. Didn’t press into his dick for which he was very thankful.

Then, oh fuck, then she pointed to a butt plug, and he had to count backward from a million or he was going to come in his jeans. It was a brilliant sapphire blue glass with three graduated balls that looked to be at one-inch intervals.

“I miss having a plug inside me sometimes.”

Her voice was soft, but he heard her and again, instead of being able to speak, he simply squeezed her hip.

“You want to look at one? I’ll open the case for you. You’d be surprised at how smooth they are, and if you hold them for a bit in your hand, the glass warms. My customers that buy them, rarely ever go back to the silicone ones unless they’re looking for vibrators.”

Buck looked up at the clerk whose gaze was trained on Caroline’s face. She shook her head and murmured a “no thank you” then slipped away, leaving him staring after her. She was looking through the lingerie now. The woman was going to give him a damn heart attack there in the adult store.

“I like corsets, but, not these. I like the handmade specifically for me ones ones that are handmade, specifically for me. I don’t usually buy lingerie in stores, only online lately for things other than the corsets and bustiers.” She looked and gave him a small smile that just tilted up the corners of her lips. “Do you want to see what else I like?”

He couldn’t handle seeing anything else, he really couldn’t. “Yes.”

She kissed him. With thather pretty smiling mouth, she kissed him. Over the rack of corsets she didn’t like because they weren’t made just for the curves of her body, she touched her soft lips to his and kissed him.



An excerpt from
Sweet Caroline
Copyright © 2010 Lissa Matthews

All rights reserved — a Samhain Publishing, Ltd. publication
Caroline’s hands were still shaking as she held onto the steering wheel so tight her knuckles were ghostly white. She couldn’t believe she’d been so forward with Buck, especially kissing him, telling him she wanted him, liked him wanting her, but… He’d been aroused. Had she pushed him too much though? Had she been too forward?

Seeing him in the store surprised her, but when she heard his voice, the amused interest in it, saw his smile, something happened inside her. Her lust for the handyman took over and she showed him what he wanted to see. He wanted to know what she liked, and she was more than willing to oblige. She’d harbored the fantasy of wanting him to see her as a forty-year-old woman who had life and hunger and freedom to be herself and not the forty-year-old woman whose husband emotionally and physically left her long before she’d ever asked him to move out. It had taken a lot of courage, but then a lot of what she had done over the last year and especially over the last few months had taken more courage than she knew she possessed. Showing Buck what kind of sex toys she liked wasn’t really such a big deal. If it ended up that he wasn’t interested, well, that was okay. It at least showed her she could put herself out there again and express herself.

Pulling into her driveway, she had to admit to being a bit relieved he hadn’t beaten her back. She’d made a few more stops before heading home and figured he’d had some errands of his own. He said he’d be back this afternoon, and she didn’t doubt him. There was a job to do, and even if a personal line had been crossed in the adult store, he’d finish the work on her house.

She pressed the button on the garage door opener and drove in. She grabbed her purse and her purchases and exited the car. Leaning against the warm metal, she closed her eyes, still thinking of Buck. The arousal from earlier in the morning when she’d taken coffee to him out at the shed combined with the arousal from the adult store thrummed through her. She took a deep, shaky breath and let it out slowly. What’s done was done, and it was time to get to work and stop thinking about it for a while.

“Yeah, you go ahead and try that,” she muttered to herself, pushing away from the car in the direction of the door to the house. Straight into her home office, she shrugged out of her hoodie and tossed it and her purse into the corner before setting the bag from the yarn store on her worktable. She had an order to fill for a crochet basket for a newly pregnant woman. The mother of the mom-to-be ordered the theme basket as a birthday gift, and Caroline needed to get it out in the mail first thing tomorrow.

She pulled a set of three boxes with a pale green stripe pattern from the top shelf of the closet. In the bottom box went a spiral bound crochet patterns for baby book and three skeins of hand-dyed yarn—baby green, baby yellow and a variegated purple ranging from dark violet to very light lavender. Being they didn’t know what sex the baby would be, the mother’d requested colors other than pink or blue. In the middle box she put crochet needles, handcrafted and personalized with the name of the recipient. The mother’d requested that, also saying she had been given needles with her name engraved on them. It seemed to be a tradition passed down from mother to daughter during the first pregnancy.

The top box would contain a pair of white baby booties, crocheted by Caroline herself. Throughout the package, were little hidden gifts—a crochet charm, a little book about being a first time mom, a baby duck stuffed animal, even packets of decaf herbal teas and a small journal.

Caroline smiled. She loved the baby ducks. They were her signature of sorts, her extra special touch. For every gift she put together, there was always a baby duck.

She went to the chest of drawers on the opposite wall from her table and in the top drawer, rifled through the ribbons. She had a pretty purple ribbon with very thin green and brown stripes somewhere. It would be perfect for the boxes, but damn if she knew where it was. She closed the drawer and opened the second one. Nope, still nothing. Surely it wouldn’t be in the third one, that’s where she kept…other things, but she looked anyway.

“What are you looking for?”

Caroline slammed the drawer shut and turned her head at the voice in the doorway. Buck. She hadn’t heard him drive up, hadn’t heard him come in the house. “Hi. How long have you been standing there?”

“Since you started looking through the first drawer and mumbling to yourself.”

“Oh.” She stood from her crouching position. “I’m looking for a ribbon.”

“To be tied up with?”

She grinned. She didn’t mean to. It just happened. She should have been shocked instead, right? Well, maybe not, probably not, considering their earlier encounter, but it seemed her uncertainty when she was driving home of having maybe pushed went right out the window when she was face to face with him.

It had always been the other way around with other men, but with Buck, from the first time they met, she was comfortable with him. It didn’t hurt that he looked like he wanted to devour her at times. And she had to remind herself that Buck wasn’t a lover chosen for her by another man, by Derek. He was just a man and maybe they were choosing each other.

“Well no, but now that you mention it…” She winked at him and was rewarded with heat flaring in his eyes and a smile spreading over his mouth.

“I’ll keep that in mind. I brought the stuff I needed for fixing the deck out back and the new screen door. I’ll be working on it tomorrow.”

“Okay. Are you leaving for today? I mean, you could have picked up what you needed tomorrow instead of coming back now.”

“No, I’m not leaving today. But I am done working outside. I have some things in the house I need to do.”

“Sure, okay.” Arousal was back full force, and her blood was hot. He was going to be in the house working. She’d be able to hear him, probably even see him when she left her office. It was time to honestly admit how much she wanted him, and it wasn’t just a little bit. No, it was a whole hell of a lot.

She turned away, intent on going back to work. She put her hands on her hips and gazed around the room. The ribbon had to be there somewhere. She—

Her thoughts were interrupted by his voice again, though this time from right behind her, his breath on her neck, his body a solid wall at her back.

“You didn’t ask what I’m going to be doing in the house.”

“Oh. Was I supposed to?” She really didn’t care what he was going to do. She just liked the idea of him being nearby. She was coming to like that way too much.

“Yes, you were.”

“Okay. Well, what are you going to do?”

His lips feathered kisses at her ear. “You. I’m going to do you.”

Latest for Nice Guys Finish Last?

She had exhausted his energy he just didn't have any left to speak. In the last two days, they'd ........so much and it took so much out of him. He wondered if he was inhabiting each moment of her thoughts the way she was his. He wanted to spank her each question he asked, get to know the sides of her she didn't want him to know. He wanted all of her and from the first day he saw her, he loved her, it wasn't a conclusion that he gradually came to form, he just knew. He couldn't stop looking at her like she wasn't just beautiful but like she was special to him in every way, from the start he knew it. So why didn't HE make the first move? He would kick himself that they had waited so long..it had been months after all. Now she was lying in his arms and he held her. He sunk his body on the chair. He could feel her breathing.

"Hi."

"You're not asleep."

"Neither are you."

He smiled.

"Let's go to my bed." He watched as she got up and took his hand. She was in her element, she was confident.

"Last time I was here, I thought about you."

"How so?"

"I was thinking about how I'd like to run away with you." She smiled, " A childish dream. Just us determined to find our own place where no one would interfere. I'd barely have to interact with anyone, I would have everything I needed."

He kissed her cheek.

"I've really suffered a lot, Stephen." She whispered. He stroked her hair, her head bent down.

"Tell me." He said.

She looked at him with her deep, dark eyes which would have him forever. "Oh what can I say. That actually I should have said something a long time ago, that things spiralled out of control, that I let them. I made the basic mistake of trusting too much. I thought people were good and I believed in that so much, I turned a blind eye, then I got scared when I saw the truth." She said all this against his chest. He wanted to hold her but he felt a rush of anger.

"What?" She asked.

"Why didn't you?"

She looked at him and then said, "I was scared." She shrugged her shoulders. I was heart in my mouth scared. I have been for 20 years."

"Why?"

"What do you mean? What are you talking about?"

He couldn't take it anymore. He got up and shook her shoulders and watched her scare.

He saw every bit of emotion come out, her anger taken out on her lip, her eyes tear up violently, then she said "Fuck you."

"You're not going anywhere." He said to her, pushing her back on the bed.

She nodded her head, then slapped him on his stomach. It was a weak slap.

He watched her watch him, then she slapped him again. The third time HURT.

She got up off the bed and pushed him and slapped him. He slapped her bottom hard. She couldn't get his face so she slapped below his neck and his flesh was now stinging.

"God, get here.." He growled and grabbed her bottom.

"Fucking make me you PRICK." She pushed away from him. She sprinted out of the room and down the stairs.

"You're naked." He said loudly, walking quickly after her, his cock bouncing. She's fucking naked. Then he ran and when saw everyone watching him. She ran out of the house, he could see her on the grass.

Then she stopped running.

He didn't say anything as he walked up to her. He didn't need to. She wanted to be taken forcefully, he'd never be able to explain it fully but as he saw her standing on grass, he knew she wanted to be taken against her will, to be forced upon, to be raped.

Presented as the best text book ever..and what's inside does not disappoint.

There's a fan page on facebook. It's called wolverines are better than vampires, I'm joking, it's called The Kinky Punishment Ebook and it continually teases me by leaving little updates like "A ruler. That's what it is. We were playing around with it the other night and I may have used it a bit too hard. This is part revenge I guess. Think I am about to get some more if I go up to bed now." *envy*

http://www.facebook.com/#!/pages/The-Kinky-Punishment-EBook-Spanking-Fun-Guaranteed/10073726077?ref=ts

I went on the website to buy the book. Buying this book is going to make me do something stupid though. I should perhaps incorporate the inspiration I get from this naughty little book into an innocent story I am well into about a young man and a young woman both attending some sort of boarding school, I have already started to explore their little characters, the things that annoy the other person about the other person, their arguments, their clashes, their bond.

http://www.lulu.com/content/2039898

Did you just read that?


Knowing myself more and knowing what turns me on and that feeling that jolt or rush, makes me less inclined to see me through other people's eyes ..I don't care about my weirdness or my inability to be like everyone else or the fact I'm hidden in a way, it's all a part of me and I should never be ashamed of myself.

Here is more Slowburn.

PLEASE NOTE; NONE OF SLOWBURN IS BASED ON THE BOOK TICKET ME MORE. I DID NOT REALISE THE SIMILARITY UNTIL NOW!


So now they were in the car with Michael driving his own special way, not one mph over the speed limit on the road, and Mel just sat there with her head hung not knowing anything anymore. She felt like she had been sucked into a big hole and there was darkness all around her. It seemed even Mike's patience, sexiness and love was not enough to drag her out. She really needed help, but she knew that anyway.

"Are you okay?" She looked at Michael who asked her that.

She just smiled. She remembered at school one of her friends had just done the same, that was the only reaction of hers for the rest of the day..and she nor anyone else knew what her friend had just been through but it was sure that she had been through something.

She didn't want to be this pathetic little soul in Michael's arms that evening, she couldn't take sharing more of herself with him. She wanted out..just to smack herself upside the head or do something to get her out of this. He's had his bad days too but this was the first time in their relationship that she had stopped him from fucking her mid fuck..they were both naked and both as aroused as hell and he was going to make love to her tits, but this THING grabbed her..she couldn't be around herself let alone him.

But he'd come with her when she was upset. That spoke volumes. But it was the unconditional love he had for her that made her wonder about something she said in the past...did he want to take care of vulnerable her..did he see something in her no one else saw and whilst she loved to be submissive towards him, did he see her vulnerability first and fall in love with that and her later?

So many silly questions ran through her mind, they were not going to solve her crisis. That pain she felt everyday wouldn't go away.


"Hey." Mike touched her hand. "You know when I didn't want to talk to you earlier about my previous job, I understand what you're going through."

"Before I met you, I dreamt about your eyes. In fact you were in my dreams twice." She was a certified insane person, the way he looked at her. They were at her house and he had stopped the car and she had just blabbered something that had nothing to do with anything.

He kissed her neck and tucked her short hair behind her ears. There was something very protective when he did that and like he wanted to never not see her face, something she wished she could hide around everyone else. It was one of those smackably annoying faces.

But his fingers touched her already branded skin.. was there a centimeter of her body that he did not posses? Seriously, he touched her everywhere.

She didn't want this to end ..but her MIND. It would get in the way..

Michael was outside the vehicle. She opened her door and the air hit her. It was dark outside, the sun had set. He was standing in front of her seated form. "Where's your bag?" She asked him. He didn't answer her. Did he not want to assume anything or were things ending? She got up feeling an anger. When she was out, she stood on the high pavement ready to close the door, but he closed it. She saw his reflection on the car. She saw hers and she saw them together, she had never felt so together as he had made her feel in bed, she would contribute all of that to him because whilst she sparked things, he made them perfect and he made her feel perfectly beautiful. So she'd not take that away, her flaws were her godamned humanity and nothing to balk at.

She felt his arms wrap around her waist. Closing her eyes she felt his body. If she touched his arm, she would melt, so she didn't.

It took them a few minutes and she realised whilst they were walking up the stairs to her house, hand in hand, body with body and arms intertwined, that he didn't rush her, or prompt her to go inside the house. He just held in his arms in the cold night air and gave her time.

Shoot it up, shoot it up, shoot it up.

Indeed.

This picture kept me awake. It's incredibly erotic. I love how they capture that shot.


I imagine that woman is me, her hair shorter, thicker, her face smaller, but like her my breasts are ripe by that point and my incredibly responsive nipples and stretched out tongue get every last drop of that cum. What would be even better is licking that cum off my nipples with my tongue. My lover has come back from his run, his athletic and strong legs and thighs have a bursting cock in between them. He doesn't expect I'll be at home. But he finds me lying on his bed naked and masturbating. He rips his shorts off, then follows the tshirt. In between my moans and and fondling my tits, I see his sexy body climb on the bed. He doesn't say a word but he pinches my nipples HARD. I'm so ready but the look in his eyes tells me I'd better not come. His hand strokes his cock. And my eyes sweep darkly over his length and his face. He looks animalistic, then he does it again, strokes his cock. He's the ultimate primal being stroking his cock, watching me as I masturbate and through hooded eyes I watch him, sometimes his eyes and sometimes his cock. At this moment, I couldn't care about his chest or whatever. He keeps stroking himself and I can see his penis is moist. Then he comes all over me.

So when I read this book, I happened to actually agree with the Erotica hero for once

That's a slight exaggeration but just a slight one.

He was talking about not using fancy equipment in BDSM, crops, whips, all these superfical parts of the power play to get you off, rather for him it was so much about the mind. His power play involved mind control. I don't believe in any one rule and I think if one person wants to have say tomatoes thrown at them, silly as that is, let them. So if they want the fancy equipment, that's okay with me even if it means they are backwards, unless it's straining "our relationship."

I also don't believe in evolving for the sake of it or discovering the meaning of life. For me evolving is necessary because it beats intolerance and prejudice. I have a headache most days from my own first hand experience of this, so for me it's important some changes are made. The meaning of life? I have a great interest in philsophy, in reading and listening to it. But that's it. I just want to live.

So whilst I love looking at really sharp pointy shoes with really sharp pointy heels, I also love looking at cute shoes. My point, sex isn't just about a superifical gratification to me, it's in the mind, it's a build up, a slowburn, it's always there, it's part of my body and my mind,it's a part of me.

I initially just wanted to post a few picture of this outfit I have. I'm not going all fashion-y, (if you hate fashion blogs and fashion in general, I get you, it annoys me too) but once in a while I do like having an outfit or a nice pair of shoes. It's superficial as hell and it doesn't make me happy but it's just nice and I feel like I am being treated. But as I was looking for pictures of what I bought and what I want, I saw the sharp pointy shoes with the sharp pointy heels. I feel no regret not buying them instead, I could train myself to walk in them so practicality is not the issue. Fuck me shoes to me can sometimes tell a story but my opinion is they are overrated plus there's something about them which is kind of a turn off.

So the pictures I have posted, one is this great dress. I bought the silver and grey version of that blue one which looks a bit lighter but evening-y and the stones are silver and so lifting, they even lift the grey coat that goes with it, I can appreciate the designer's hardwork and attention to detail on this one. The great thing about my dress is I can wear it with these black peep toe shoes posted lifted with some fishnet tights or another less full on pattern and a nice toe nail polish..or I can wear the dress with light grey tights and the patent flowery flats if I'm walking outside. I'm keeping my look elegant like my dress and not going for the fake tan and strappy, strappy shoes. The result I have confidence due to the design of the shoes and dress, will be beautiful.

When I get enough money I'm investing in these sandals posted- my ideal is the pure tan one which looks divine, I know people say shoes like this are ugly but they actually have surprised me when I wear them all that edgy detail and fuss looks good. And if the heel is not too low on the classic metallic ones, I'll see if availability makes them mine. Good times? Nah just nice, pretty ones. Good riddance Winter, Spring and Summer are here at last and my feet are out!

A free story courteousy of me. So I'll get sued for this.

Available from Excessica Publishing as part of an anthology.

This one is my favourite.

"Tre – Quid Pro Quo

She was angry. Loudly not talking to him in the way women did, slamming doors
and stomping her sensible heels on the hardwood floor. So he’d flirted a little, it was
what he did. She knew that when she married him ten years ago.

She looked fantastic. Not that he could tell her now—she’d think he was sucking
up. Her dress was hooker red, slinky and wrapped around her tighter than anything she
usually wore. The edge of anger that accompanied her outfit only made her hotter in his
opinion.

“Do you do it deliberately?’

Aaah, she was finally speaking.

“What’s that honey?”

“Do you deliberately flirt in front of me?”

“Sweetheart I didn’t even talk to her. She talked to me.’

“Right. After you looked at her in that aren’t you a gorgeous piece of ass way.”
The gas station attendant was a gorgeous piece of ass, but she held nothing to
his wife in full fury mode. Her pouty mouth curled in a snarl, eyes flashing, chest
heaving. Man, he wanted to fuck her hard. It was their monthly date night, the kids had
just been picked up by grandma for a sleepover and their dinner reservations weren’t for
an hour. So maybe, just maybe…

“You can wipe that look off your face buddy. No way, no how are you getting a
piece of this fine ass tonight.”

OK, so maybe not.

“Maybe if you were wearing a wedding ring...” The rest of the argument
disappeared down the hall with her as she stormed away. Not that he needed to hear it,
he could repeat it in his sleep having heard it so many times over the last ten years. It
wasn’t as if he didn’t wear a ring so he could pick up. He might flirt but he never, never
cheated. He couldn’t wear the ring, not safely, not with the tools he used on a daily
basis. Sure, he could probably put it on when not at work but, Jesus; he was a man. He
didn’t think about frickin’ jewelry. Truth be told he wasn’t even sure he knew where the
ring was, maybe in his toolbox? No way was he telling her that, not if he wanted sex
again this decade.

He was wondering whether date night was a complete goner when she finally
reappeared from the bedroom. He turned off ESPN and put the remote back on the
coffee table. He hadn’t really looked at her—too busy finding his keys and getting his
jacket—so when he opened the door for her and got a good look he cursed, “Jesus
Fucking Christ!”

She was still wearing the red number but it was now open all the way to her
waist, a red and black lace up corset underneath. The corset cinched her waist and
squeezed her breasts up into luscious mounds. Her hips seemed rounder, ripe and full.
The unruly curly hair she normally pinned back into a neat bun was now big and loose
and her lips were as shiny hooker red as the dress.

Those red lips pursed in a pout as she looked at him and loudly tapped her foot.
He looked down at the tapping, the shoes had been changed too. No nice sensible
black pumps, they were come fuck me heels, with black ribbons that laced up her
beautiful calves.

She arched a brow and said, “Problem Jack?”

No, no problem at all, other than fact that if he didn’t adjust his rapidly stiffening
cock right now his balls would be strangled.

He shook his head and watched her ass as she walked through the door. Now
was the time to shut his mouth and pray she’d forget she was angry so he could please,
please get a piece of that fine ass.

Oddly when he got to the car she was in the drivers seat. He normally drove, but
in the spirit of not getting in further trouble he got in the passenger side and said
absolutely nothing. When she took the wrong turn to the restaurant he still said nothing,
thinking that she’d eventually work it out and maybe he’d score some points for not
raggin’ on her about it.

She actually spun the tires when she pulled into the lot of The Hardball Bar. One
of their old haunts, pre kids, pre marriage.

“Aah Cass, honey. We have reservations.”

“Fuck the reservations.”

Cassandra didn’t normally curse. Didn’t dress like that and didn’t curse.

Something was definitely going on. She didn’t give him a chance to ask. She was out of
the car and across the parking lot before he had his door closed.

The Hardball hadn’t changed much in the decade since they’d been regulars.
Dim lit, bare concrete floor, caged stage with a hard rock band playing at ear splitting
level. Cass stood out like a rose amongst the thorns in her slinky red dress. Most of the
other women were in jeans, barely there skirts and cut off shorts. Cass didn’t speak to
him, just made her way to the bar and ordered a Mexican beer—nothing for him. Hips
swaying she strut over to a table and sat down on a stool propped her leg on the
footrest of the table and flashed a gorgeous expanse of leg. She ignored him and drank
straight from the bottle. Red lips pursed around the clear frosted glass. His dick jumped
as her tongue poked in the end and licked at the wedge of lime stuck in the top. Lost in
a fog of lust it wasn’t until she stroked a hand down the bottle that he realized.

She wasn’t wearing her wedding ring.

It was a gut punch. The emotion that hit him as his wife, hot as sin, sat there
without his ring.

“Cassandra, honey, where’s your ring?”

Whiskey colored eyes flashed at him with wicked fury, “Why Jack? Don’t you
trust me?” She was quoting him back one of his own lines. “Do I need a mark for you to
know that I’m yours?”

And another.

He slumped down in the seat next to her, touched her arm but she turned away.

He’d never seen her so angry. “Honey, what do you want me to do?”

“Get me another drink.”

He didn’t argue. As he made his way through the slowly building crowd he
decided he wouldn’t argue, not just because he wanted her but because he probably
deserved whatever she wanted to dish out. He was a terrible flirt, for years she’d
complained about it, begged him to stop, but he never had. She thought it was because
of the other women, that he somehow needed more than her, but she was wrong. She
was the reason. He’d never told her that when she wasn’t there, he didn’t flirt. It was her
reaction he craved, not the attention of the other women. Her fury, her jealousy, he
loved it; it turned him on like nothing else.

And now he was paying the price for his sins—for all the years of making her
jealous.

He ordered two beers, deciding to drink the same as her in a pissweak show of
solidarity. Returning to the table he found her flirting with a couple of guys. Frat boys
from the nearest college—ten years younger than her but they didn’t care. They
obviously knew a good thing when they saw it. One had his hand flat on the table,
leaning into her, barely an inch from his wife’s mouth. He shouldered the boy away and
placed the beer in front of his wife. She barely looked at him, keeping her eyes on the
blond Frat boy.

“Thanks Jack,” she said and took a long sip of her drink. Jack watched the pull of
the muscles in her throat as she swallowed. He said nothing, sat down beside her and
waited. Waited for his wife to tell them they were wasting their time, to tell them she was
married.

She didn’t.

Instead she laughed, leaned into them, shook her mane of hair and stroked a
finger along her collar bone drawing attention to her luscious cleavage. Flirted. It was
championship flirting, she had them eating out of her hand.

It simmered in his gut—jealousy. Lay there like a pool of heat. Not alone though,
there were layers. More, so much more. Lust. Anger. Longing. Need.

Desire.

A wanting that clinched him like a vice.

The blond one took his wife’s hand and led her out to the dance floor. Silent he
watched, downing another beer. The other one followed. He was dark, his head shaven
completely bare, shining under the flashing lights. She danced between them, sinuous
movement. Lithe and supple she rolled her hips and held her arms above her head. Her
mouth open, eyes closed, she looked like sex. The blonde one was at her front, grinding
his pelvis into her, pushing her back into the tall dark student who had his hands on her
hips.

In his head he could see her, naked between them. Taken by them both,
thrusting into her as she cried out. It exploded in him. The need the desperate need to
see it. To watch her.

She came back to the table alone. Leaned into him, her scent tainted by the
smell of them—young male heat. “Like that Jack? A little quid pro quo flirting? Do you
like that?”

He didn’t answer. Took the back of her head and brought it down to his mouth.
Teeth, tongue, lips, he bit, licked sucked. Took. Took her mouth. Melting into him, she
plastered her breasts to his chest. At some point he’d stood. Now he had her backed up
against the table. His hands went to her hips pulled her up to sit spread legged on the
bar table. Wedged between her succulent wet heat he ground his hard cock, “Yes. Yes.
I like it. I fucking love it.”

“Tell me. Tell me.” She panted against his mouth.

He rested his forehead against hers, closed his eyes and let it out. Let out the
need that he hadn’t even known was fermenting inside him, “I want to see them fuck
you. I want to watch, watch them take you. Watch you. Watch you come with another
man.”

He feared opening his eyes—dreading her reaction. Would she hate him? Reject
him? He felt her warm soft hands at his cheeks, “Jack. Babe, look at me.”

He opened his eyes. What he saw there seized him, seized his gut with lust. She
was looking up at him, eyes glazed, mouth open. He knew that look. She was turned
on. Turned on by his words.

“Me too,” she whispered and he took her mouth again.

When they finally pulled apart she held his face and said, “Not them though. I
don’t want boys. I want a man.”

“You choose.”

She nodded.

“You want to do this? You really want to do this?” Jack looked at his wife with an
intensity that he hadn’t felt for years. She smiled with slick red lips swollen from his
kisses and said, “Yes Jack. I want this.” She pulled his hand between her legs, right
there in the bar and pushed his fingers under dress into her panties. She was wet, juicy
and hot, swollen and slippery. She pushed his hand away, brought it up to her mouth
and kissed the palm, flicking her tongue against the sensitive skin.

She left him at the table, moved like a woman in heat. Eyes snapped up all over
the bar to watch her, unable to look away. She leaned against the bar and they came
one by one. Three tried, three failed but the fourth she let stay. He watched her talk and
laugh, toss her hair and smile. And then, then he watched her kiss him. Another man, a
stranger holding his wife, kissing her, backing her up against the bar and grinding his
hips into hers.

He throbbed, from head to toe. He was one pulse of heat. Skin tight, mouth dry
never had he felt such all consuming need. She looked over the stranger’s shoulder at
him. A question in her eyes as she ran her hands down to cup the stranger’s butt. Jack
met her eyes and nodded. She nodded back at him.

Jack saw her talk to the stranger, his head close, his hands gripped around his
wife’s waist. They both looked out back to a door just behind the bar area and then he
saw Cassandra nod. The stranger took his wife’s hand and started to lead her through
the crowd; she looked back over her shoulder and smiled when she saw Jack following.
Jack caught the door just before it closed, held it for a moment to make sure that
he wouldn’t be seen and then followed them through. He could hear them up in front of
him, the stranger was leading her into caged storage area. Rows of boxes and stacks of
wooden boxes lined the floor. Jack slipped inside the cage as they were busy kissing.
He positioned himself behind a stack of cartons that hid him, but still allowed him to see
his wife.

He looked out to find her on her knees. On her knees on the bare concrete floor
her head at the stranger’s crotch. She’d unfastened his fly and had her hand in his
jeans. Jack sucked in a shocked breath as he saw her pull out that red tipped hard cock
and guide it to her mouth. She hummed in pleasure as she sucked. The stranger
groaned, threaded his fingers through his wife’s mane of hair and let his head fall back.
He watched her head bob up and down on that spit slick shaft and he had to touch
himself. His cock sprang out, hot and sticky. His hand moved easily, lubricated by the
copious pre-cum that just seeing his wife go with the stranger had created. He stroked
the slit in slow circles as he watched his beautiful sexy Cass draw out the stranger’s
blow job.

The stranger groaned out praise, “Fuck yes. Fuck you’re good at this. Suck it.
Suck my cock. Yes.”

Cass held the stranger by the root of his cock, slowly drawing her mouth up and
down on his shaft.

“Best. Best ever!” Jack heard the stranger cry out.

It was. It was the best blow job he had ever seen. Cass had hiked up her skirt,
leaning forward on her knees and pushing her butt out. Jack bit his lip to hold back a
groan as he watched her slip a finger in her panties and begin to stroke her clit.
The stranger noticed too and it seemed to be too much for him, “Yeah. Yeah!” he
cried out, “Finger that pussy. Yeah, gonna come. Gonna come!”

She held fast to his cock. Hand gripping the end, mouth sucking hard. The
stranger cried out, jerked his hips and then he saw her swallow, the muscles of her long
beautiful neck work as she drank down his cum. Jack too almost came. He had to
squeeze his cock hard almost to the point of pain to stop himself.

Cass sat back on her bottom as she watched the stranger button up his fly.
When he was all buttoned up he crouched down to kiss her and Jack heard him say,
“Are you sure that’s it?”
She smiled and said, “Yes. Let yourself out. I want to straighten up a bit. I’ll be
out soon.”

The stranger walked straight past Jack’s hiding place, too come drunk to even
notice him. When he heard the door click shut Jack came out. She was still on the floor.
Without a word he lifted her, grabbing roughly under her arms to bring her up on the
nearest palette of boxes. His mouth came down hard, tasting the stranger’s cum on her
tongue. He pushed apart her thighs and with rough urgent fingers he pulled off her
panties. One side of the material tore halfway down her legs and he left it there hanging
loose. His cock hit the wetness first as he had not even bothered to touch her pussy
with his fingers. He needed this too much for finesse. He didn’t care. Didn’t care about
anything, anything other than fucking. Nothing else existed other than the tight wet
sheath around his cock and her cum flavored mouth. The room echoed with slap of his
flesh against hers. She cried out in little yelps as he fucked her hard. Grunting out each
thrust he shoved his cock into her. She was so wet, wet as if she was already filled with
cum. The thought, the thought of fucking her cum filled pussy sent his over. The orgasm
gripped his balls, charged through him like a jolt, wave and wave of head spinning
pleasure.

He pulled out and fell to his knees. His still hard cock slapped wet against his
stomach as he knelt between her thighs. He heard her cry out, “What?” just before he
fell upon her with his mouth. She gripped his head, holding his hair like reins. He ate at
her drenched cunt, licking and sucking until he felt the spasm of her orgasm.

“Jack. Jack. Jack!” She cried out as her sweet pussy spasmed against his lips.
When she had released her grip on his hair he fell back onto his butt and looked up at
her. Wild hair, face flushed and lips swollen she was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen in
his life. She still had her skirt hiked up and legs splayed open wide. Her pussy was
spread perfectly ripe, swollen red and juicy.

She looked down at him and smiled, a sweet and almost shy smile that was at
odds with her splayed legs and just fucked pussy. “I love you,” she said and he felt the
familiar clench of his heart that hit him each time he heard those words.

“I love you too.”

She slid her legs closed and got up from the palette pulling down her skirt and
righting her clothes. After she’d smoothed her wild hair and fixed her make up she
looked neat and tidy. A respectable wife.

“Quid pro quo,” he said to her as he pulled open the door back into the noisy
barroom. “So do you think you’ve actually paid me back yet?”

Those whiskey eyes flashed up at him and she said, “Oh no, not yet. I’ve got
years and years to make up for.”"

Dear Diary,

There are 5 things I want from life. My 5.

1. Have sex with someone who's very experienced sexually. Someone who knows all the moves as they say.

2. Take someone's virginity, not some weasly boy's but someone who just needs to let down their spectacles from time to time.

3. Have sex with a woman.

4. Have two men love me whilst I am inbetween them, we wake up a threesome and make love that way. I get wetter each time I think they're going to kiss each other. I wait to see what happens.

5. Have rough sex with a man in alleyway, the kind of man who ought to know better.

6. Because I can't stop at 5, have sex with someone just after they have come into some money. There is nothing like that feeling of exultation and power screwing you. We'll screw on a bed of money like they do in the movies.

7. I want to make a sex tape not like idiots do but one which makes me something of an icon in certain spheres.

8. I was stupid, 8 isn't enough, 18 isn't enough. I want it all.

I'll be back another time.

Porn, so is it empowering?

You'd probably say no.

I used to think so.

I also used to think empowerment didn't mean all that much..why must we prove ourselves? I'm still not convinced. And I'm not saying that out of not having/ having something to prove, it's just why do we need to exist for some greater purpose? That's honestly my belief..and I like life. I think there's a lot of good stuff and fun to be had.

As well as the horseshit; but really it's a case of bringing the evils so down that they eventually become something/one you can tackle or become the bigger person put them into a too stupid to bother with box! There's some people who need something bigger than what you can do daily to get through to them, and what you do is never good enough. They're a waste and they fit the term loser very well. But like I say I'm never going to keep it in, my feelings about such wastes will be made very clear.

So, I've been watching enough porn, to really get to see the differences between the porn stars and also studios. There are some which make feature movies..which fit the term adult movie quite correctly. (PLEASE make Training Day). These movies are glamourous but to me they lack a certain factor. I'll explain one day when I've thought about that enough.

Oh my God and also they have movies with a man recieving a blow job with just their cock showing listed as "anonymous cock." That's bullshit to me. No matter how much I want to see a woman giving a man a blowjob, the power, the eroticism of it comes from the man. To me.

My favourite porn star at the moment is Chris Johnson. There's something sweet about him. He has this athletic figure and friendly eyes and just a nice disposition ..I mean it's porn and he's nice and that's important. He pays attention to women. He is excellent at licking their pussy, he's clearly loves breasts and nipples, no matter what size a woman's breasts are, he's one of the stars who will spend time there and he treats them like he's so into women. Because of all this, I love to see him getting a blow job.

So I read an interview and he's I think Christian, believes in God and had his parents really have to come to terms with what he does, if they even have yet. He seems like an all round okay person.

In any industry there must be really nasty, vile people..I definetely don't think porn is run by them or has them as performers. You get a mix of people and I don't necessarily think that because it's porn the majority of the producers must be dubious people. Of course one can say the ultimate thing is sex sells and they're cashing in on that, but sex is also a passion. I mean I love it and I know a lot of people do, not just men at all. I love watching someone I find sexy have sex, female or male. There's some female porn stars who are incredibly sexy and it's not the ones with the largest boobs or the tightest body, if you're just a one trick pony, I don't know about anyone else, but that ain't enough to get me off.

It's really about the performance. I'd much rather listen and talk to a man about porn than one who has a so many Maxim or Nuts magazines. I've read those magazines, I go on their websites, they're okay, Nuts makes you snicker at times, Maxim is completely massmarket "hottie", but there IS something about a woman in porn, she's not just an object, she's a living, moving, breathing woman who wants her sexual needs met. Is she objectified? Yes of course. But whilst she has this appearance and she's looking into the camera and the man is objectifying her to some extent if not the full extent, I would think that if you're a performer in porn, the better you are, the more chance you have of not just doing the movies for money but doing them because you want to explore all the positions and your exhibitionist side and having sex with all these different performers in an environment that is regulated, maybe not alwaws fully, i dont know but at least to some extent lets even say its seems pretty well regulated. I also wonder if it's the solely the porn stars own responsibility to keep themselves clean and safe or ther producers also act as a help?

So is the industry empowering or is the female porn star empowering? I'd say to some extent she is and to more of an extent, the industry is. I want sex to be completely out there. There should be mystery also and sensuality..we have lost sensuality..but I think there's something wrong about Western Culture where we have a uniform of Paris Hiltons, Kim Kardashians, then Britney type singers, you'll have a music industry judge and manager say to a girl wearing a skirt with the legs and the hair extentions you're sexy, you should be in music, we have female University students sending in topless pictures but sex..ooh let's boast about it, it becomes about numbers, but there is still so much hidden stuff. Use your feminity to get ahead but as for being seen as a woman who enjoys sex..! And back to the students sending in topless pics, there IS something really sad in doing that just for money. I'd do it if I found that sexy, if the camera was part of my sexuality, maybe it is, I've yet to see. But how funny that in porn with all it's cliches, stereotypes and taboo nature, there's something honest to be had out of it. That's why I love porn.

More on Those Two.

Things could be worse, I kept telling myself. About half an hour ago, James called me. He woke me up in my sleep, my pathetic lying cheating sleep. I had the key to his room so I'd have to let him in. He apologised and I felt sick. Don't ever apologise I wanted to say.

I got ready and then I decided at 11pm why would I be wearing my jeans so I took them off and lay in his bed nude and cold. I wanted to punish myself and I wanted to feel his sheets against my pussy.

My heart beat ten times harder and faster than if I had seen my worst enemy. I wanted to go the bathroom and lock myself in there and die. But I was frozen and I couldn't lift from his bed. HIS bed. He gave me his room since we started fucking on a regular basis, sorry since we started our relationship and we did have a relationship. I confided in him over things and he talked to me too, not just about his writing but everything, even past girlfriends, he always spoke with such humour even when cursing a name. God James. He got under my skin and was deep in my blood and heart. The fucking irony was that I knew the strongest I had ever know at this point in the midst of my fear, that I loved him a lot.

I got up and looked at my scummy face in the mirror. My cheeks were flushed and I looked, actually beautiful for once. Yeah I'd look even more so once I was red in the face with telling him how sorry I was.


"James, James, I've missed you." My lover walked through our door. He kissed me and lifted me in his arms.

"You're not helping my dick being so fucking sexy and nude, baby." He murmured passionately into my ear.

"Mmm..fuck me James. Don't use a condom, I want your cock inside me."

"Oh fuck, I'm ready to burst." He kissed me again and again, taking my tongue, biting my lips, he knew I liked it rough, and possessing each cavity of my mouth with his masterful one.

"Fuck" We both moaned when he broke away. I kneeled down on the carpet ever the nude woman slaving to his needs, "My my" When I unzipped his trousers, he didn't wear his fancy boxers, his sexy arse was commando. And his cock was red and big.

I fell back on the carpet on my round bottom on purpose. "Fuck me" I opened my legs and showed him my clit clearly.

"I keep it smooth for you everyday." I was a shameless slut, getting rid off all my pubic hair to please his highness. I loved pleasing him.

"I wanna suck your tits first."

"But what about my pussy?" I couldn't help it, I actually whined.

"And what about a spank. I know that would turn you on but where would it leave me? I've been without your big juicy boobs for over a decade now. " He moaned after his exaggeration.

"Oh..Fuck, James, Fucking hell." He was so good at sucking my nipples. His lips, wide hearts were designed for my ripe brown points.

"James" I moaned again holding his beautiful wispy brown hair to my tits. He was laving them, lavishing attention on both morsels and sucking the shit out of them.

"MM I could come." I shouted.

"Don't." He said firmly. He bit my nipple sharply. Oh I felt my pussy spasm. I stopped myself like one would stop a sneeze, I fucking worked so hard in that second to not come.

"I'm going to spank YOU" I said.

"Do that and your arse will be so sore, my little slut."

I rolled over.

"What the fuck?!" He shouted.

"Fuck me dirty in the ass." I moaned.

"Fine, you want a cheap fuck, I'll give you one, I'll fuck you like you're an animal."

That turned me on like anything. I was a naughty slut, I rubbed my pussy on his carpet making sure the fibres got my juices.

I could feel his trouser material touch my legs. "Looks like lover boy pulled out all the stops for his smanshy conference." I school girl impersonated.

"Slut!" He spanked my arse so hard, it forced a weird sound out of me and we both laughed.

"Get in."..OH..

"Baby, I'm going to go wild." He croaked. Those were his final words before I felt him thrust in my anus. He didn't warm me up, he just went in slowly. And then he went out. Then my bastard thrust HARD in me. Fuck I moaned, my whole mind had stepped out of my body, my body wasn't mine, it was his. He thrust and thrust and thrust. "I'm sore" I wheezed but he didn't care. Oh FUCK this was the shit I dreamt about when he was away.

"OH..fuck..I dreamt about your arse, I dreamt I was..I was fucking you on all those tables.. O.. " His voice was strangled and he was in pain. I lifted my arse higher and we both had to lift up a little, but he was fucking me like a lion fucks his mate, my body lifting off the ground to accomodate my master and my baby's big dick. He kept thrusting rudely and I was going to leak his cum when he finished, all over my butt cheeks, right down the middle and I wish I could lick it off..

"FUCK!" He came in my anus.

There was not a part of that didn't violently "OH!" I was beyond anything, I was in love, I was in pain, I was going to die with him, I'd come back and haunt him, I would do ANYTHING. We collapsed on the ground. I felt some fingers shoved in my mouth. I looked him in the eye with him on top and me in the submissive position, on my stomach and arse off the ground, and I licked and slurped every last drop off our body liquids off his fingers.

Hypocrisy.

Okay last night I was watching a film just a regular film and I was feeling a bit turned on anyway, I sort of had this weird gunshot idea of becoming a prostitute. Yes. I have these weird gun shot ideas at bedtime anyway, because it's right where I am comfortable and I can imagine wearing say 6 inch stilletos and a short jacket, but when I wake up I want the comfiest shoes and longest jacket.

What stops me from a career that would make my mother proud, is actually hygiene, really, and also me. I'm not going to go into it now fully but let's just say if I could wear a mask and make sure the lights were off the time of sex, I would be able to be the slut I am inside. That's not insecurity speaking by the way..you really need to have read my previous blog posts and those on my other blog. Like I say, do not want to go into it now for sake of my own sanity.

I definitely want something where I can be honest and forthright about me and be able to explore me fully.

So I get pissed off when I see this new thing about women chefs cooking and acting all weird sexy in front of the camera which of course happens to get a nice right between the cleavage shot. Why not just tie a woman to the stove barefoot and have her naked in your apron instead of having these two worlds where you talk about respecting women and then you have a woman who is filmed so cheaply for satisfaction and viewing figures? What ever happened to in the bedroom? I have no qualms, in fact being a slut in the bedroom is prerequisite for me..because that's where I'm going to explore sexuality but for fuck sake, I'm not going to cheapen myself in the world outside the bedroom, I want to be respected and viewed as an equal, not a sex kitten. I don't want to play into a man's game. I don't want to use my feminity to get ahead. I want to explore it and use it for sex only, for MY sexual fullfillment.

Now you can call me hypocritical and/ or backwards, but I'm not going to defend myself because you can't understand me. I argue now with people who are on my wavelength which by the way is not a statement on intelligence, I never said I was intelligent, I'm of average intelligence but I can articulate my feelings, emotions and thoughts and be honest.

The inner child that needs a spank? Or the cynical woman?

What's sexier to me in Erotica is equality. It is out of some kind of miracle that in dominating and submitting, some equality can be found, between the two opposite sides of the coin. I didn't articulate that very well, tough shit. So, the idea that we're to be sitting on "Daddy's lap" acting and looking like girls is not as erotic as not acting, being yourself and getting the spanking YOU deserve. Just a notion.

It's Friday, so I'm clearly over the moon at the fact it's the weekend. As over the moon as if someone told me I had a 6th toe and would be put in a torture chamber because of it.

I want to read something DARK. I went back to My One which is very sexy but I can't help feeing envious of the picky but clearly lucky bitch heroine. If I'm overly me today, it's because I feel swollenly menstruable and unrelated to that, yesterday was the worst day I've had for years. I was thinking I need to go back to ordering my dildos, frankly, and just get on with that. I was also thinking of writing little snippets for each story I have done but I think I'll just watch In Her Shoes. The whole Cameron Diaz thing annoys me, look I'm sick of beauty and its importance in society and how you can't even argue about it without being called jealous/fat/or in possesion of a penis, but Toni Collette's boyfriend is quite sweet in this. Persistant.

What the FUCK can I read? I think I'm going to go back to Sugar Rush, it's a very raw, earthy, sexy story and I'll probably not buy Training the Receptionist By Junniper Bell..because she's spunky and all cool with her tatoos and shit and I don't have time for that at the moment..don't get me started on spunky characters.


I'll say bye with an excerpt stolen from Compromising Liasons by Melinda Barron. The "Lord Ethan" character was a total turn on. Because of his personality. Anyway, here's an excerpt from an erotic book featuring spanking of grown women.

"27 July, 1880

My dear ,

It has been too long since our last visit. I hope things are well for you in the north. Here in London I have what can only be considered a new lease on life. I have become mistress to the Duke of . In an effort to protect him, should this letter be intercepted, I will only refer to him as His Grace. I am sure you understand my need for discretion.

Despite that need, though, I have a compelling desire to tell my story. And I know that you, dear cousin, will appreciate it in all its glory. Do you remember all those years ago when we discussed what happens between a man and woman? When I married I found we were far from the mark, as I am sure you did, also. My late husband was cold, and only coupled with me when necessary.

I can only thank the God above that no children came from that union, since he left me a widow so soon after our marriage. I cannot fathom how it would be to take care of a child on my own. But I digress, and you do not want to hear me complain about my lot in life. What you want is the details of His Grace, and those I shall give you.

I met him a scant month after my mourning period ended. He is a most handsome man, extremely tall with very broad shoulders. His dark hair is worn a little bit longer than the fashion, but it suits his rugged looks. He has yet to marry, and when he does I know it will not be to me. I am far below his station, but that has not kept him from making me his.

It was at a boring party for the Duchess of that I first saw him. He was across the room, standing in a group of people. His gaze was focused on me and I felt as if I were on fire. It was almost as if he could see what I looked like in my shift. Perhaps it was my red hair that attracted him, I am not sure. All I know is that after a while it became warm in there. I went outside to the gardens and he was beside me in seconds, his hand on my back, propelling me toward the maze.

I did not speak, nor try to dissuade him. Once we were concealed from prying eyes he stopped me, pushing me back against the hedges. His hands found my breasts immediately, squeezing and exploring.

"Your Grace," I said in shock, even though I did not try to move away. His touch was masterful and sent bolts of desire through my body. My last husband's touch had never sent me on edge like this. The Duke's hands explored me, moving from one mound to another before he stepped back.

"Lift your skirts."

I did not even think of disobeying him. I gathered the material quickly, baring my pantalets to him. He tugged on them, exposing me to his view. He got down on his haunches, his hands now touching my pussy.

"Your cunt is wet." I inhaled sharply as he touched me. "Do you wish to fuck, Melody?" (That is not my name, of course. His Grace used my real name. But I created Melody, in case this letter is ever found. Do you like it, my dear friend? It is quite fun to be able to name yourself. And I realize you are probably worried about me sending this salacious tale through the post to you. I have opted for a messenger service. And am delivering it to inside another envelope, and asking him to pass it on to you. There will be no names on the missive you receive. If you believe the missives have been read please advise me of it and I will think of another way to deliver my letters to you. I suppose, though, that you want me to get back to the tale, and so I shall.)

"Yes." I felt as if I could barely speak. He stood, his hands still stroking my folds.

"Yes to which question?" His smile was predatory and it made me want him inside me even more.

"Both, Your Grace."

"Turn and bend over." I obeyed immediately. He lifted my skirts over my hips as I grasped the bushes to keep myself steady. When I felt his prick rub against my backside I almost fled. He is much larger than , and I wondered what it would feel like inside me.

I soon found out, for he wasted no time in entering me, his prick sliding into my cunny, spreading me wide. He grasped my hips and fucked me silently, with the sounds of his flesh slapping against mine the only sounds in the night air. Well, that and his grunts. He took me hard, and his climax was much longer in coming than 's ever was. It seemed to take forever, and the longer he thrust inside me the more the pressure, and pleasure, built.

"Touch your clit." The order shocked me and when I did not immediately respond he slapped my behind. "Do as I say. Stroke it, make yourself spend."

I was so aroused there was no way I could not obey. The hard nubbin responded to my touch immediately and when I climaxed he slapped my behind again, then left my body, spilling his seed over my backside.

He did not let go of my hips, though, holding me in place for a long moment that grew very uncomfortable. When he finally moved it was to wipe his kerchief across me, cleaning up his leavings. I righted myself on shaky legs and turned to him. His face was flush and the desire in his eyes had not abated.

"I will send herbs to your home, to prevent pregnancy so that I might spill inside you."

His words shocked me almost as much as what had just happened. He meant for us to couple again?

"Take them daily. I will visit you tomorrow." He was tucking his prick back into his breeches. "Wear nothing but your corset and stockings."

When I did not respond he narrowed his gaze at me. "Did you enjoy what we just did?"

"Very much, Your Grace."

"Good, then follow my directions. I will be there around one in the afternoon." He surprised me by tipping my face up and kissing me gently. Then he left. I righted my clothes, looking around and wondering if anyone had seen us, had watched our quick, hard coupling.

The experience left me frazzled, and back at the party I could barely make small talk with the other guests. I had arrived with , and you know how she can be. She immediately noticed my flush, and took it to mean something was wrong. That excuse was all she needed to whisk me from the affair and to my home where servants drew me a hot bath. I soaked for a long time, my cunny sore from its hard use tonight, a feeling it has not experienced since 's death.

Will I prepare myself for him tomorrow? I can almost see you shouting the question, dear friend. I can only say that yes, I will. And if this letter reaches you as it should, I will write to you of my next experience, if that is what you wish.

Take care, . I close this now so I can sleep and get it to the messenger in the morning. Please write to me soon for I miss you so.

I remain your dear friend and cousin, and can now sign myself,

The Duke's Lover"

"Tell her something in my mind, freezes up from time to time."

More Slowburn.

"Oh I don't want to destroy them." He said just as his lips descended to one of her nipples..

"Can you get up?" Mel put her hand on Michael's chest. He froze. "Sorry." She saw his eyes and just regretted what she did immediately.

He was just looking at her. Yes still baffled. "Please." She pleaded again.
Thank God, he moved slowly and she shifted herself to the other side of the bed.

Without saying anything, she got up off the bed. She knew if she sat there, he would too, and he'd be watching her looking at the walls in a dark room.

"Your clothes are downstairs."

"Yeah, I'll go get them."

"Mel," He grabbed her arm

"Don't.." That word just came out.

Mel walked out of the room and went down the stairs.


As she put her clothes on, she saw him there with her downstairs. "You're going through something..I know talking is the most difficult thing right now, and I want you to do it...

..I'll hold you. We won't do anything, just hold each other."

"I can't. I feel angry." She choked between tears.

She unlocked the front door. His front door.

She heard him run up the stairs. But for some reason she didn't open the door.

He came back down. It was a mistake to turn around. Because with him, she looked at his face.

He had a bag with him.

He didn't say anything. Mel turned around and opened the door slowly. "Are you coming?"

"Yes."

She had meant to ask that out of curiosity only but perhaps he interpreted differently. The look in his eyes almost broke through her sorrow and she could have sworn she saw an "always."

But she couldn't get rid of the pain. It had lept up on her, taking her away from him earlier as he was just about to make love to her.

Some people say they do not have time for pettiness

however that describing bitchiness word is spelt. I just watched some of this great movie called Gallipoli. Again, however that one is spelt. Now, I grew up in the UK so I don't know much about the history of that movie. In fact the reason I watched it was because it's directed by Peter Weir whose movies I have a lot of time for because they have a lot of time for human spirit. When you watch this movie, and go back to a STUPID poll about women "we" love and women "we" don't, you'll laugh. The first time round I thought it was incredibly bitchy. Whilst I have made it no secret which public figures I admire and which ones I don't, mostly I talk about actors since movies are my bug, (made that phrase up, it's odd as hell), I would never go and do such a list. It's like doing some sort of hitlist. And whilst I don't admire certain people and have a slight problem with their PERSONA, I know shit about them and would never say they deserve a marriage break up. Speaking of which, nice to know sisterhood is so wonderful that when David Beckham cheated on Victoria, allegedly, some women made her public enemy and he gets off as the charming wondering eye rogue. Bullshit. And now Kate Winslet..I think if her husband says one woman is not enough for him in this life, then the man is neurotic as a husband. What a sad, horrible thing to have to hear from someone you've had something with and may still love strongly.

Gallipoli is about brotherhood. Two men sticking it out going through HELL. It's movies like that which make me even more alienated from the world surrounding me, they're these superifical snobs and I'm this person they can't leave alone but who loves humanity whilst having been abused by so called humans. Life's fucking strange.

I also read a great story. It's up on The Long and Short of It Reviews and it's by Victoria Blisse. Excerpt from It Can Be Done by Victoria Blisse. "“You don’t need to take off all your clothes,” he replied with a wink. “In fact, you don’t have to take off any of your clothes.”

“Oh, come off it,” Debbie laughed. “You can’t fuck me through all these layers.”

“I bet you I can. I’ll do the dishes for a week if I can’t.”

Debbie thought for a moment and decided it was a win-win situation. “All right then, super stud, I’ll take that bet. Show me what you’ve got.”

His lips met hers and as they kissed he pushed her back until she hit a tree. She gasped, but he only continued to kiss her and press his body hard into hers. He certainly had proved her could turn her on through all those layers; her body zinged with lust as she glanced left and right to make sure they weren’t being watched.

“Turn around,” he whispered in her ear, “hold on to the tree and stick out your arse for me, sweetheart.” "

http://www.longandshortreviews.com/

Desire.

I started two stories one called Irrepressible and one with the working title of My Story or something like that. I've decided to scrap them and work on this current one. I normally go with the flow but I need enough to work with and I don't for those two. So I chose something more relevant to myself.


I'm calling it Desire.

"Why are you interested in BDSM?"

Julie opened her mouth but she couldn't quite come out with a reply for her friend. What could she tell Andie? There was nothing that she could articulate at this point that would serve as answer for anyone, including herself.

"I just thought I'd try it. I know what you're thinking, that it's me, of all people, but moulds need to be broken, I suppose we could start here."

"Don't get me wrong, it's just..you seem like a one man type of woman."

"Andie you have no idea." She felt her friend's eyes on her. Andie had got it wrong but then Julie couldn't blame her, no one knew the real her, she never let them in because she was not outgoing in the same way other women their age were.

She was all of 28 and the truth was, she needed to save herself. There were parts of her that had got lost, gone missing through years of abuse and neglect, and she wanted to get herself back. That free spirited girl who didn't care and wore a dress too tight for her already voluptuous body at a young age. She needed some joy to help ease the burden off her shoulders.

She didn't mind at all if she had more than one man at the club. She wanted to do something about her sexual needs. Sisters did it for themselves and sometimes they needed to; the club was a regulated environment for her to explore her needs.

"I'll see you tomorrow." Andie broke into her thoughts. She kissed her friend on the cheek. Andie wore a look of suprise. Julie smiled, "I guess there's a first time for everything, eh." Blushing, she walked on as her friend just stood there on the pavement.


What were her needs? I want everything she said darkly to herself. I want to be able to express my sexuality fully. She'd love to see herself evolve. Her fantasy was to go from watching women and men get spanked and whipped to being spanked and whipped by a masked man whose piercing eyes raked her naked and roped body. He would stroke his whip over her tits which were pushed together by rope and her nipples were red, if he even put his tongue to one of her nipples, she would orgasm explosively. But he would only do that later.

Her other fantasy was to have several men stand around her topless form and suck several men's cocks and have them come violently over her tits. She'd lick their come off and then masturbate..and they'd have to spank her. She'd be in the middle of all of them..

Adult entertainment, self harm (not related) and other taboos.

I'll start with self harm first.

I could never do it; I mean just seeing a sharp pointy thing (an instrument, please) makes me get this big chill right from the end of my body to the top. But, I have on occasions wanted to. Why am I putting this in the Kinky blog? Kill me, but I think there's a part of self harm that is sexy. Which part?! The part that comes with the feeling from self harming. It seems one of the most cathartic things in the world. It's that which I find erotic. Does that mean I encourage it, that I'll say to someone wow you self harm/ed, I find you irresistible..NO it does not. But this is a blog and I'll blog, cry and say what's on my mind if I want to.

Now the worst of worsts, is there self harm porn? I'd be curious but I couldn't get off on watching it..I don't think, since I basically turn stone cold and have every part of me twinge and cringe every time I see Maggie Gyllenhaal in Secretary get that box out..ooohheugh! That horrid feeling again.

What do you say to someone self harming? How do you get them to stop? I'm sure irresponsible posts like mine don't help but I immediately think, God please stop. You're literally harming yourself. But then something is paining you so much..and that needs to stop too.


Whilst we are on the subject of taboos, see how ordered I am today, I was watching Friends..informal title; the one with the boob milk; and why is it disgusting? You know I once read this man sucking his wife's breasts, it was a historical novel and she said no, don't I'm pregnant, this isn't proper, referring to a little milk coming out of her when he sucked her breasts, he said he didn't care. I'm turned on just writing about it. It's not the ultimate turn on for me by far, spanking is, but it's damned human. I hate that because things don't fit into these neat little categories and are messy, they're scoffed at.


And finally Chris Johnson. I have a crush on this guy. Google him. Yup. Him. The porn star. You could say it's his face, or his body or his cock, but actually it's the way he is in porn videos. He's very attentive, let's just say but not creepily so, he's kind of confident and gives the woman some space. (There's one guy who stares right in women's eyes as he fucks and basically chokes their throat; I mean that's just too much for me..but if you're interested I can get you the details!) Porn. I love it. I'm a fan of Vivid entertainment and Wicked Pictures. But I found Chris on the hilariously titled, come on it is, Mommy's Got Boobs which is part of the Brazzers network. Because it's boob orientated, so the men pay more, a lot more, attention to their women's tits and I like that attentiveness be it on breasts, bottom or anywhere else. Plus Chris is a good snogger. (Kisser).

Oh baby I want you.

A banal title for a banal programme I just watched. Oh but I like it. So many laughs. Google Under Cover Princesses..and you'll also see Undercover Princes, but this gem is a programme about three women who are actually Princesses, no really, who have come to England to I don't know have some sort of life here and get paid for it. Why would you leave life as a Princess?! Okay, okay you'd do it for the freedom, for the expoloration and potential filling I'm always blabbering on about, except my blabber is genuine but I do like to mock.

So, part of me got annoyed watching this. The editing is just heinous. There's one woman, Shy Alliyah they call her, seriously I mean, she's going out, it's Shy Alliyah this, going back into the house, Anxious Alliyah..the woman is bubbly but she knows what she wants. So kudos on the labelling. Pfft! Then the cameramen or women cut to her eating something, it's so ..I feel like I'm watching a movie, a lesser Muriel's Wedding, you KNOW producer has just got their grubby paws on this woman and gone, okay I see a Muriel here, when in actual fact no two women are alike and she's got depths no one seems to be interested in.

Then there's the tall blonde. Whom funnily enough gets the camera on her bending over, or washing up and what do you know acting all bubbly! Sure, she is bubbly anyway but something tells me she too is part of a producer's game.

And then there's this woman who I just love. She's fucking A! I mean, she's non definable but again I can tell they are trying to label..oh the feisty African woman. And sometimes people go looking for stereptypes, they see racism when it's their own prejudices they are seeing but I'm telling you whilst you can expect to be surprised and definitely entertained by UnderCover Princesses, if a label shatters, it's because it was definitely put there by the producers. Know what I mean? Television fodder. We'll pick HER because..

Oh a part of me, the kinkiest part, wants to see Alliyah make out with a woman not to shock or to satisfy me or anyone else but to just I don't know shatter this programme to pieces. Fuck em and their ignoring of her and attention to tall blonde! I was getting serious Truth about Cats and Dogs vibes from this but I don't believe in Abby from that movie..and I am NOT for being defined by other people's opinions. I don't think "Noelle" is so great or Thurman that fantastic looking, because I think everyone is attractive in their own way but as we know certain looks will always get the glamour part of life. And the Ben Chaplin character..what was even his name,?!..personally I think Abby settled. Yeah I do. She had that spark..he just did not. I suppose his fans will say he underplayed and his charm was elegant and understated, but ..no. I mean I think it was too movie-ish.

I believe in something that occurs outside the prejudices I see there. That's part of why I prefer "man movies".. men aren't labelled and defined by prejudices superficially as much as women are..men get to have more fun. I've always liked interesting people myself..regardless of who or who isn't out of my league. What a term. Telling it like it is? Yes, but only if you refuse to see outside the stereotypes. In my world anything is possible, because anything IS possible. The concept of a conversation changing your life between a woman who's a BBW and black and a man who is as thin and slender as a young boy, is a not marketed as a "boundary shattering" romance in my world, it's just humanity. It takes all types of people to run this world.

p.s. the picture is a cliche.