Monthly Archives: October 2006

She’s Smokin

Pink CarToday’s post comes once again from the mall.  Ok, so I don’t get out much these days.  Lol  We made a quick trip over this Sunday to pick up a few things.  Mainly some new razor blades so that I could shave Alex’s naughty bits.  He felt like a rampant hedgehog when he was fucking me on Saturday evening.

His spines stuck in to my ass with every thrust and I’m sure encouraged the couple of pimples I now have on my ass cheeks.  🙁  It’s not very pleasant to undergo dermabrasion every time I went down on him either.  My face felt like I had rubbed it vigorously with wire wool.  So I bet you can’t guess what I was up to on Saturday.  🙂

The morning at the mall passed in an uneventful fashion and being as we were in a hurry we bought sandwiches from Marks & Spencer and left the shop to find a bench to eat them on.  We managed to find an empty one, we were lucky as it was lunchtime and they tend to fill quickly.

We got settled and started to unwrap our sandwiches when I noticed a middle aged couple heading our way.  I don’t know why I do this, but I try not to look the approaching person in the vain hope that they will not take a seat and move on.  I’m not sure if avoiding eye contact actually has any effect on the outcome.  Certainly this time it didn’t.

The benches are roughly large enough to seat 4 people of medium build.  I moved up closer to Alex to avoid us having to sit on top of one another.  The woman looked as if she was pushing 60 and was wearing stiletto boots, tight black trousers and a leopard skin effect lycra top.  The look was finished off with peroxide yellow locks and…brace yourselves for this one…bright pink frosting on the lips.  I am a firm believer that there are very few women who wear this colour well and most of them tend to work in the adult industry.  Lol

Her husband, I presume he was her husband looked quite normal in his conservative attire.  Casual beige trousers, white shirt and khaki jacket.  I must admit to being thrown slightly by his wife and didn’t notice until they were both seated that they had a child in a pushchair with them.

Can I say at this point that you can have too much pink.  Once again for the ones who weren’t listening at the back YOU CAN HAVE TOO MUCH PINK.  OMG, lets start with the pushchair, yes that was candy pink with a darker pink striped fabric.  The child was dressed in a pink coat with white fur trim.  She was wearing bunches in her hair, tied back with pink bows.  Her tights and shoes were pink too.  And just to finish off the look she was clutching a pink bunny.  Now need I say more?  You get the picture.

I felt a little devilish and it occurred to me just how funny it would be to ask what the little boy’s name was.  Tempting though it was I refrained and started to bite in to my sandwich.  I was just about to take a second bite when in my peripheral vision I caught site of the woman placing a cigarette between her lips and then lighting it.

I’ll just point out that the mall is a no smoking zone and has been for the last couple of years.  I removed the sandwich from my mouth and kindly said, “excuse me this is a no smoking shopping centre”.  “Oh, I didn’t know.  The last time we came you could smoke”, came her reply.  Now bear in mind that the mall was full, not sure how many people were there that day but not one was smoking.

Did it not occur to the woman that they weren’t smoking because it was prohibited, obviously not.  In addition I consider lighting up a cigarette next to someone who is eating (especially in these enlightened times) is extremely rude.  Let me validate that.  I smoked for years and gave up a couple of years ago but during that time I was a considerate smoker.  I never smoked in the company of others who didn’t partake in the weed.  I’ve spent hours stood outside to avoid smoking in the company of non smokers in the past.

Before lighting up in company I always asked if they minded and towards the end of my smoking days I even smoked outside when I was at home.  Stupid I know but I hated the smell inside the house.

I think she was upset at my pointing out her misdemeanour as she stubbed out the cigarette and they both stood up and left without a word.  As they walked off in to the distance I couldn’t help thinking that I hoped they were the girls grandparents and not parents.  Meow!

Fringe Benefits

Have you ever worked for a boss who you fancied?  I never worked for a female who I would have liked to play with but just once I worked for a guy who I would have fucked without question had he asked.

He wasn’t particularly attractive but he had an air about him in his sharp cut suits.  Peter was slightly taller than me, perhaps around 6′, with short cropped mousy hair and a clean shaven face.  His eyes were a steel grey which seemed to take on a blue hue from time to time and his voice had a rich chocolately tone to it.

I was under his tutelage and from time to time he would come over and show me things on my screen.  Rather unconventionally he would stand behind my operators chair and work over me.  My heart would race as he came close to my face and I could smell him.  His cologne wasn’t overbearing like some men I have known.  He smelt clean and fresh and I liked him breathing in my ear.

It took me all my time to control my breathing when he leant over me.  In my attempt to stifle the rapid rise and fall of my chest as I pulled the air in, I found myself holding my breath.  And I must confess to undoing one more button on my blouse than I would normally.  Offering Peter a stolen glimpse of my cleavage.

For once in my working life I now went to work with a slight skip in my step.  Now it wasn’t so much of a chore to go in, but more of an experience to look forward to.  I even found myself plotting how I could summon Peter’s attention over to my desk.  Under false pretences of course.  But that didn’t matter I liked having him next to me, to feel his heat, to smell his aroma.  To breath him in.

He was a very patient guy and would spend a considerable amount of time explaining things to me.  Again a quality that I find attractive in a man, patience and understanding.  I didn’t think so at the time but my actions must have become more obvious by the day.  After all I started attending work in below the knee suits and after just a week I was wearing my mini skirted version.

Maybe a little too eager but I have never been one to hang around if I see something that I want.  How does the saying go?  “A faint heart never won…”  I’m not sure but you get my drift.  He was either being polite or he really did take a shine to me too.  I won’t lie I did sneak a look at his crotch once when he was to one side of me and pre occupied with my screen display.  I could see the firm outline of his cock against the clean cut and freshly pressed wool worsted fabric of his grey suit.

He was shifting about rather uncomfortably from foot to foot as if totally aware of his unfurling hardon.  I tried not to smile and returned my gaze back to the screen as he pointed out something to me.  I looked up at him and directly in to his eyes which seemed to make him slightly uncomfortable as he directed his stare back at the screen.

My thoughts both day and night became filled with him.  I began to masturbate thinking of him when I was in bed at night and my world now had a purpose and a meaning that it had lacked for months.  I could now smile and consider this man a challenge and one worth undertaking.  Did he think of me the same way?

It had only been a week and this man had completely enraptured me.  I could no longer behave in a natural way around him, my moves orchestrated, tempering my desire to have him.  The times I thought about bending over my desk, raising the sides of my skirt and asking him to fuck me.

But my dreams were to be shattered one rainy dinner time when one of the accounts girls asked if I wanted to go to the pub for lunch with her.  Alice, I think she was called.  She came to my office at lunch and we went to the put in her car.  We ordered a salad and a half of lager and took a seat in the bay window of the pub.

We started to chat about work and I started to feel comfortable in her company.  You know how you seem to just click with some people, well I did with her.  She seemed to feel the same about me too.  By the time lunch was almost over we were chatting like we had known each other for years and as it turned out she didn’t live that far from me either.

I decided to take the bull by the horns and confess that I had a thing for Pete.  Alice stopped sipping her lager and with a surprised face placed her glass down on the soggy beer mat on top of the small round table we were sat at.  She took in a deep breath and It dawned on me that she was about to say something that I may not like.

“Do you know Lesley who sits to the left of me in accounts?”, she asked.  “The girl with the short cropped brown hair?” I replied.  I was now beginning to become a little anxious, fearing what she was about to tell me.  “Yes, that’s Lesley…well…listen I am just going to come right out and say it…her and Peter are engaged.

My face must have been a picture of disbelief as her words resonated in my head.  It was one of those moments when you hear what is being said but don’t quite absorb the meaning.  I felt my heart sink so heavily that the thud could have been almost audible to those who witnessed my devastation.

“Look, I’m sorry to have to be the bearer of bad news but it is better that you find out from me than…”.  “Yes, yes…you’re right.  You just saved me from making a real fool of myself”, I replied.  I remember to this day the total disappointment at hearing those words at the time.

When I got back to the office my body language must have reflected the lesson I learned that lunch time.  I probably became the ice maiden as far as Peter was aware but it had to be that way.  It really hurt to think that I had allowed myself to fall so deeply for a guy I didn’t know that well and with his fiancé only a few steps down the corridor.

It’s just as well that this didn’t come to anything because within a few months I met…well, I bet you know who I met.

Wet Asphalt

Headlights reflect from the wet asphalt. The deluge has passed but the world still drips and gutters still run. I drove past groups of revellers, freshly ejected from the nightclubs without late licences, the young and not so young. From the 15 year old girls with too much makeup, just making it past the judgemental eyes of the doormen, to the older women, out with the girls from the office on “Sharon” or “Kylie’s” leaving do. “I mean, I’m too old for this sort of thing you know”, they protest while simultaneously eying up the young man opposite them in the club, young enough to be their son …

But I’m here for her, out with the girls at the end of the month, pay cheques in the bank and four weeks of office monotony to drink into oblivion. She’s at the curb with two friends, I forget their names, let’s call them blonde and curly. Curly’s hair is dark brown and frames her face nicely, thoughts of a threesome with my girl and curly flash through my head. I smile to myself as the wheels stop moving and splash in the gutter and save that thought for later use.

She opens the door and is grabbed by blonde and curly, all three of them kissing and wishing fond farewells in a merrily drunken way. She slides in skirt riding up provocatively, and she knows it.

Blonde and curly bend forward into the car, chests on display.

“Do you ladies need a lift?” I ask, hoping the answer is no.

“We don’t take lifts from strange men. And we’ve heard about you”, says blonde, and everyone laughs.

The door closes and we’re off, leaving the merry couple to find a taxi. As they recede in the rear view mirror she says, “You weren’t taking any chances on getting wet then.” She’s referring to the long raincoat I’m wearing.

She smells of her usual perfume, larger and other people’s cigarettes. The cabin of the car fills with the aroma, displacing the clean washed air left by the storm.

Her hand strokes my leg making me shiver. Her fingers slip inside, she shrieks “You dirty boy!”. Pulling open the trench coat she reveals my nakedness. Except for the coat and a pair of trainers I am as nature intended.

The cold air hits my exposed flesh, eliciting goose bumps and making me more aware of the heat generated by the blood-rush in my groin. Her fingers circle around my cock and balls, not touching then. Her eyes watch me come to life, enjoying the spectacle. Before I m fully erect she has taken me in her fist and begun to slide the skin slowly back from my glans.

She squeezes me as I grow harder and begins to tug more firmly at my cock, driving becomes a distraction from the slow and sensuous hand job I’m getting.  I’m probably smiling inanely by now. She shuffles awkwardly out of her seatbelt to enable her to bend low and lick the tip and taste me. I lift my arm to allow her access to my lap.

She raises her head, licking her lips, slowly, sensuously savouring the pre-cum. My balls are tightening, the sight of her hand working on me in my peripheral vision and the sensation of her fingers on my cock bring me swiftly to the edge of ecstatic oblivion.

She sees it in my face as we pull up at a red light. Her head is in my lap again, tongue and throat working their magic now. In just a few moments I’m there, hot semen flooding her mouth. “Mmm” is her approving verdict on my climactic issue. I throw my head back, gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles, mouth half-open in a gasping “Aaah!”.

The spasm fades, her mouth releases its prize and I begin to slip into the warm post-coital pool.

A horn blares behind me. The lights are green, a truck driver’s horn expresses his displeasure by proxy. I fumble the car into gear and head home.

“Do you always pay for taxi rides like that?” I ask.

“No. Only when the driver’s naked.” She smiles, “And you’re such a smooth driver I think you’ll be getting a tip when we get back …”

Tags: cfnm, clothed female naked male, car sex

Lewd Lyrics

Extract from a smutty rugby song that came back to me while washing the dishes this morning:

The sexual life of the camel
Is stranger than anyone thinks
At the height of the mating season
It tries it on with the Sphinx
But the Sphinx’s posterior passage
Is clogged with the sand of the Nile
Which accounts for the hump on the camel
And the Sphinx’s inscrutable smile

– Origin unknown

Well, it made me laugh anyway. In case this is a cultural thing, “Having the Hump” is an expression meaning being disgruntled/upset/pissed off, specifically because of another party.

Taking A Bung

Well Aunt Flo is here once again.  She visits too bloody often for my liking.  😀  Activities don’t stop around the AlexSuze household they just get a little more messy than normal.  Out comes the fuck towel and shower sex, although sometimes dangerous, is the preferred option.

I would prefer not to have to shove foreign objects up there for the duration and use towels instead but I love the freedom you get form internal protection.  Plus I walk like a duck when I use towels, which is in itself a bit of a giveaway to the rest of the world.  I may as well wear a bloody sign on my back which says, “Hey look, Suze is on her period”.  LOL

I’ve tried to get along with towels, believe me.  They have ended up screwed up in to a thin absorbent line in the gusset of my pants, covered with the pubic hairs, which stuck to the useless bonding strip (in my, more natural hairy days).  Pads have ended up completely out of my panties and stuck to my thigh.  Also not a good look.

Even more embarrassing, I have had them fall out of my panties and on to the floor.  No doubt the securing strips are far more effective these days but I’m ok with tampons thank you very much.  They took my virginity and I’m not giving them up yet.

I recall being on holiday and not taking any sanitary protection at all.  My mother lent me one of her tampons and the instructions on how to insert one.  I went back to my room and studied the leaflet with keen interest and followed each step precisely.  It was like a complete revelation to me, I could go swimming in the hotel pool, wear tight clothing and best of all stop that bloody waddling.

But the real reason for this post is my little mishap today which made me think of the difficulties encountered with tampons.  This is where the guys start to groan and say, “what do I know about tampons?”.  Well stick around and you may just learn something.  I’m not saying that you want to know but don’t say I didn’t tell you.  🙂

Have any of you girls out there encountered some or all of these?

  • Fanny too dry to insert the tampon.  Yes you push and push and that little thing is going nowhere.  Not a very pleasant sensation, dry cotton against dry vaginal walls.  So you reach for the lube but don’t apply too much.
  • Removed the tampon from its packet and the cardboard push-up tube falls out.  You then have to push the tube back in to the outer one and at the same time capture the string.  All whilst trying to hover over the public toilet.  Not good!  But I have a top tip for you.  Dangle the string in to the top of the inner tube and then blow down on it, this both straightens and puts tension of the string allowing you to put the two tubes together quicker.  I know, I’m just full of useful ideas.

At this point some of you are asking for a diagram to show exactly what I am talking about.  Right?  Well just for you here is what I am talking about.



  • Another problem which occurs occasionally is excessive moisture.  Whilst it is good to be lubricated for insertion, over lubrication can result in over insertion.  Let me explain for the uninitiated.  Both tubes align and enter inside the vagina making it difficult to withdraw the tubes as the slip between your fingers.  The only advice I can give here is that persistence does pay off and you will with patience eventually retrieve the cardboard tubes.  Hopefully before they start to get too moist and disintegrate.  Too much information!
  • By far the most painful of all my tampon mishaps is the trapping of the inner lips between both card tubes.  OUCH!  That bloody hurts and like trying to remove a barbed hook from your finger (one for all the fishermen to empathise with) freeing up trapped lip fucking kills.  So guys I do know what it feels like to get you knob stuck in your zipper.  I’m afraid the only advice for this one is to get your partner to kiss it better or if you are alone use a cold flannel on your poor nipped labia minora.

Girls have I missed any out?

Wet Dreams And Jacking Off!

Pitchouli OilOr should that be Jilling off to Jack? 

The new series “Torchwood” started this Sunday on the BBC.  At first I wasn’t that bothered about watching but after seeing the first…I’m hooked.  Captain Jack, take me, take me now.  Yes the series has great story lines and special effects but that is not why I shall be glued to my screen every Sunday evening for the next 13 weeks.  Oooh 13 weeks….

Anyway.  Where was I?  You probably guessed by now that I have a slight crush on Captain Jack, no correct that, I would like to fuck his brains out.  Or at least objectify him sexual when masturbating.  Do you want to see who I am talking about?  Ok, here he is.

Captain JackThis is actor John Barrowman and I think I’m in lust with him.  After seeing him in his greatcoat the other night I haven’t been able to stop myself from reflecting back to my rock chick days.  A lot of the guys wore greatcoats (l loved the grey ones) or plain olive combat type jackets.

Most of my nights were spent in cellar rock dens where you drank Newcastle Brown Ale straight from the bottle.  These pubs were usually crammed full of leather clad bikers and rockers.  Music turned up to number 11 just below the stage where your ears bleed.  The one I frequented most often had it’s own DJ so you could request your favourite tracks.

It was in the ladies toilet that I first saw too girls kissing in public, at the sinks.  One was sat on the vanity unit, the other was between her open legs.  Undeterred I washed my hands and watched with interest in the mirror.

I had to resort to takin a pee in the gents toilet one busy night.  There was a queue for the ladies toilets one Saturday night which stretched up the stairs and out in to the street.  No way could I wait that long to take a pee.  This girl goes just once or twice in an evening (I have a capacious bladder) and when I have to go, I have to go.

My friend and I waited until the last guy we had seen enter the gent toilets, left.  Then I walked in and was greeted with the most disgusting smell of stale urine.  Annette my friend kept guard on the door.  Taking my life in my own hands I walked past the urinal and into one of the stalls.  I did my pee whilst doing the girlie squat and hover and left.  It wasn’t worth washing your hands looking at the state of the sinks, you would be dirtying them rather than cleaning them.

When I walked out there were several bemused guys stood outside waiting to go in.  Never let anyone try and tell me that there was no courtesy back then.  I said thanks to them and then made for the bar.  I only ever did that once after.  The next time I wasn’t so lucky.  Or maybe I was I didn’t look.  😀  I came out of the cubicle to see a guy at the trough taking a leak.  I walked swiftly past him, trying not to catch his eye and glowing ever so slightly.

We always stood next to the pinball machine just under one of the speakers.  I lost some right money on that game but it was so bloody addictive.  But the top of the pinball machine came in handy for placing your bottles and cigs on.

Those were the days.  When I would get turned on at the sight of a guy with torn oil stained jeans and a black leather jacket peppered with badges, studs and beer mats.  Never liked the smell of Patchouli oil and it was a must wear for the rock chick in those days.  To me it smelled like composting garden waste.  I must confess I did have a particular weakness for tall guys in greatcoats, I like the way they flare out when the guy struts.  Giving the appearance of power.

One of my boyfriends had one on the night we met.  I don’t think you would be too surprised to know that I asked him to fuck me wearing that coat.  It kept both of us warm as he opened his flies pulled out his cock, lifted my skirt up and took me from behind.  He placed his arms around my waist pulling me back in to his groin and wrapped his coat around us both like a bats wings.  It was a good job that nobody was out walking their dog that cold November night.  🙂  We had just been to a firework party and couldn’t wait.  😉

I had something go off inside me that night I can tell you.


Scenes“Every film is made up of scenes, as are novels and plays. A scene has the capacity to engage the audience, taking them to destinations they never before entertained. It can be a key that opens up a door to anything. The possibilities are limitless.”, Anastasia, Scenes, All About Scenes.

If you want a shot of distilled sexual literature, your daily fix of Ερωτικό Nαρκωτικό , visit Scenes for a true pornucopia of writing.

Scenes is currently featuring my latest erotic contribution.  Enjoy!

What Do You Think?

What do you think?Well the dark nights are now drawing as we fast approach Christmas.  I hate this time of year, it’s foggy, gloomy and there are days of complete darkness when the sun never shines and you can’t see the sky at all.  Don’t get me wrong I love to see the leaves turn and fall and the children playing in them but not the reminder that the year is nearly over and the snow is on it’s way.

One of the good things about this time of year is that the malls stay open later to encourage you all to go out and spend lots of your hard earned cash.  Alex finished a little earlier on Friday because he worked part way through lunch.  So we decided to go to the mall to eat dinner and do a little shopping.

I love to cook but to go out and have someone else prepare your food makes it taste even better.  Alex quickly changed out of his civvies and in to his jeans and then off we went.  This time we decided to eat at the American diner next door to the place where he ate when he got ill the other month.  We were taking no chances this time!

We had a couple of burgers and chips with a side salad.  We had to eat something healthy didn’t we.  😀  All this washed down with a couple of very cold beers.  Simple cooking but very enjoyable and within our restricted budget these days.  Not that we go mad and eat out often.

On the way out of the diner I decided to take a look in my favourite lingerie shop.  Strange how Alex never objects to me looking in there.  I started to look around and spotted a couple of things I really liked and then my attention was distracted by a woman at the corner of the shop.  At first I didn’t know why I found the scene strange as I tried to watch without drawing attention to myself.

Then it occurred to me, she was accompanied by a man slightly older and another who was younger but not young enough to be her son.  There was also a very strange chemistry between them.  Neither of them touching, holding hands or looking as if they were close but both of the men were taking a great interest in the bra’s and panties she was taking from the rails.

This in itself perhaps would not be enough to arouse any suspicion.  But not only was she placing one set of underwear in her shopping basket but several and she was looking out different sizes too.  Each purchase was being approved by her attendants before being placed in the large basket.

At this point I asked myself why someone would purchase the same items of lingerie in different sizes.  If you require more than one set of the same underwear, you purchase the same sizes for all.

I concluded that she…

No, wait, what do you think she was up to?  Was I just being far too suspicious of her?

Ask Alex

A few days ago I mentioned, jokingly, that I should start an “Ask Alex” column because of the way in which people have a tendency to come to me for advice. Several comments indicated that some of you thought this was a good idea.

So I’ve been thinking about it and have decided to try it.

So if you have any questions, want any advice or have a dilemma, just email them to And I do mean ask any question. I can’t guarantee I’ll answer, there are some things that you can’t know about me and I don’t have the answer to everything. If I believed that I’d need to see a psychiatrist, LOL.

Two things though. I don’t expect this to be 100% serious rather a mix of the real and the silly, so please indicate if it’s a real question or a spoof if there’s a possibility it might be misconstrued. I can be a little dense sometimes. Secondly please indicate if you want to be anonymous when I make my reply, or you’d like a link back to your site. I suppose you could even include an illustrative image too if you like.

Anyway, what you’ll get is my take on things honest and straight-up. Whether you like it or not. 🙂

Have You Seen The Pumpkin Guy?

It’s the witching season and in keeping with the tradition of this blog, I wanted to bring you something which is both unusual and interesting.  So I scoured the web and came across Dave the pumpkin guy.  No, he’s not an orange vegetable with arms and legs.  😀

He is a really talented chap and in a very unusual artistic field.  He creates Halloween pumpkins and more recently gourds too.  Not the traditional kind being carved into grotesque faces, he uses his artistic talent to paint them instead.  Making for a more detailed and frightening result.  You would not want to bump in to one of his pumpkins on a dark night I can tell you.


Here is just a small collection of his creative talent and the full gallery is available for viewing over at  Go over and marvel at his craftsmanship.  His site is currently under development but you can see from the wonderful graphics and story book intro that this site is going to be something else when it is completed.  He frequently sells his work at farmers markets and online.  So If you fancy a piece of living art just contact him from his site email on his website.


I asked Dave to submit a little piece about his work and painting techniques which you can read below.  I’m fascinated by the whole concept and am in awe at his talent, I’m sure you will all agree when you visit him.

First, I started doing painted pumpkins about 15 years ago.  Primarily I painted them because they lasted longer than carved Jack-o-lanterns.  Also, I had people ask me to paint up caricatures.  When I first started I didn’t know what I was doing so I tried using acrylic paint.  This was a bad choice because of the waxy surface of the pumpkin.  What would usually happen is that the paint would scratch or just chip off with the slightest touch.  I then found latex fabric paint works well because it holds the surface better and it also stretches with the pumpkin surface as it shrinks over time.  I’ve had some people successfully dry pumpkins in their basement.  Because of the rubber like nature of latex paint the faces shrink and hold onto the wrinkly pumpkin surface – the effect can be very cool.  I’ve tried to airbrush the pumpkins in the past but I’m too messy a person – I just end up getting paint everywhere so I just use a regular water color brush.  To finish them out I like to apply a gloss fixative – it helps to protect the paint and helps bring the colors together.”



Lately I’ve been trying out gourds for a change – a few of the images up on my site are gourds.  This year I’ve been experimenting with sculpting the gourd and then finishing up with some paint.  I’ve added an image of a gourd I just finished.”

And here he is… 

I love this little fella, the movement in the tentacles makes this work of art, yes work of art come alive.  Dave is genius when it comes to vegetable artwork, I think you’ll all agree.








I was lying in bed and I had the most deliciously naughty recollection. It’s not something I’d forgotten, just something that happened so long ago that I rarely think about it.

When Suze and I first got together we were, initially at least, rather reticent about it. This was for a number of reason, more to do with other people than ourselves. Well frankly it was all about other people. There were circumstances surrounding our meeting that made us feel uncomfortable or more acurately made others feel that way. No, I’ll not be ellaborating here, let’s just say that for the brief time we kept “us” a secret we learned one important lesson; You can worry to much about other people’s sensibilities.

It didn’t last long. We were head over heals in love and still are.

So, how do you tell all your friends about your relationship when they might have mixed feelings about it? Perhaps a few well chosen words to key members of your immediate social circle and let it spread naturally from there?

Oh please! This is Alex and Suze here 🙂

We were invited to a birthday party, one of Suzanne’s friends. We arrived together in my car. That wasn’t such a clue to the guests as they knew we occasionally hung-out together.

We circulated, pretty much together. We talked to the other guests but our obvious closeness started to raise a few eyebrows. What really did the trick was when the DJ started playing “Addicted to Love”. The old ones are always the best 😉

We got up and danced. Boy how we danced. Imagine this; Suze in a beautifully tailored skirt suit, cream blouse, high heals, stockings and underneath it all I could feel a basque.

I could feel it because after only a few bars I pulled her close to me and slid my leg between hers. Or was it that she pushed herself onto me. Either way our bodies ground together, groins glowing with the anticipation of release. Our hands touched each other in the way that only lovers can.

Jaws dropped, eyes were wide. We starred into each other’s eyes, but in our peripheral vision we could see them all gawking at us, a small circle opening around us on the dancefloor.

I suppose we should feel a little guilty, stealing the birthday girl’s thunder. But when your cock is a rod of iron, dribbling pre-cum down your leg and the smile on your face is as wide as a cat in a Lewis Carroll classic you don’t really care.

For the next hour the talk in the room was on one subject. Us. And to be honest we lapped it up.

We stayed until most of the party guests had left. Rather amusingly we had several people comment, “…of course we suspected something ws going on.”. They couldn’t have, we’d been very careful up until that point. But some people just can’t bear to think they’ve missed something can they.

On the drive home after the party we stopped off in a layby. Call me old fashioned if you like, but I find there’s nothing quite so deliciously decadent as sliding your hand up a woman’s stocking-clad leg and under he skirt. The feeling as your fingers traverse the sheer fabric, then the top seem, before you finally reach the soft warm skin of a thigh. Her reaction as your inquisitive digits reach soft, moist panties and she writhes and moans underneath you. I’m smiling just thinking about it.

We were kissing and holding each other on one of the reclined front seats. The awkwardness of this and the glow of the evening’s events made our activities far more arousing than if we had been in a nice warm, comfotable bed.

You can fill in the rest.

It’s one of those special evenings and I’ll never forget. Not least because it was the day I was able to show everyone how I feel about Suze.

I’m Gonna Wash That…

Kitchen CupboardsWhen Alex and I first got together we couldn’t keep our hands off each other.  Nothing much has changed really.  😀  I had been out with plenty of guys in the past and none of them made me feel quite the way I did about him.

Not to say that I jumped in to bed with him on our first night, I didn’t.  We girls are able to show some self control.  I wanted to fuck him from the first time I saw him but good girls wait.  And you know me by now, I’m such a good girl.  😉

After meeting him I would go home and frig myself, back then it was a manual job I didn’t have any toys, just fingers.  My panties were always creamed, I have never had any problems with dryness down there.  I’ve always worn g-strings and they tend to coat easier than full panties.  By the end of an evening my g-string would be capable of standing up on it’s own.

After several weeks of torture!  I finally allowed him to part my legs.  Up until that time I had allowed him to fondle various parts of me including my breasts but never allowed him access to my pussy.  He was ready for me I know.  We would kiss and I could feel his hardness pressing upon my leg as he pushed his knee between mine.

There were many close moments when I could have said yes and had to pull back.  I don’t like to give guys the impression that I’m easy, because I’m not.  Enjoying fucking and naughty play has no relationship with being a slag (easy, for those of you who haven’t heard this expression before).  My pants were hard to get in to and I was proud of it.  And don’t tell anyone but it made you all the more desirable to your male suitors.  🙂

Not that Alex didn’t respect me or look upon me as a fuck buddy.  He didn’t, he was the perfect gentleman.  I was aware he had held back on more than one occasion when it would have been perfectly natural to want to push his erection between my moist pussy lips and give me a good fucking.  But we were both content to wait until the moment was right.

One of those moments came one evening at his parents house whilst they were out visiting relatives.  We were aware that there was a tight schedule in terms of their arrival back home again.  I remember clearly that Alex had gone in to the kitchen after our fumbling and kissing on the sofa.  He was putting the kettle on to make a drink and I followed him in there.

I slipped up on to the work surface to the left of the window, whilst he filled the kettle and put the coffee in to the cups.  When he turned round I was with my legs spread, legs dangling over the edge of the kitchen units.  I was wearing a lilac mini skirt and white shirt with stockings and black stilettos.  As Alex fixed his gaze upon my thighs his mouth turned up in to a smile.

He positioned himself in between my open legs, which I wrapped around him, pulling him close enough to kiss.  He placed one arm around me and the other on my breast which he gently massaged.  It felt right and I knew this was the moment we had both waited for.  The kettle boiled and whistled but we didn’t hear, we were too enraptured to care.

Alex kissed me deep and passionately.  I reached forward to his denim incarcerated crotch and placed my palm under his testes.  He pushed down against my hand, I began to massage his churning balls with my hand as he ground harder and harder against it.  His fingers reached inside my pink cami top (I still have it) and plucked at my erect nipple, making me flinch with the pleasure as he rolled it between his fingertips.

I released his groin from my grasp and lifted my ass cheeks off the work surface.  Reaching up under my skirt I worked my panties down my thighs until they fell straight to the floor between Alex’s feet.  Alex took hold of my hand and placed it on his flies.  He needed confirmation that I was ready for him.  I fucking was!

I pushed my right hand under the flap of denim and took a hold of his zipper.  Looking in to his eyes and feeling his hot panting breath against my right cheek I pulled at the zipper.  I’m sure the kitchen window must have been very steamed up at this point, we didn’t even shut the blind!  Maybe someone somewhere has us on video.  Lol.  I unfastened the waistband of his jeans, no going back, this was it.  I had no doubts, no nagging thoughts, this felt good and it felt right and we both wanted it.

I edged my ass to the very edge of the work surface to meet up with Alex’s groin.  His erection closing the gap between us.  He was just the right height, he hooked his arms under my knees and pulled me closer as he parted my pussy lips and guided his erection in to me.  I sighed as he pushed deeper.  He moaned as his cock buried itself deep inside my hot moist vagina.

He started off slowly at first, savouring every thrust and withdrawal.  The moment then getting the better of him he started to buck like a wild stallion.  I almost lost consciousness with the emotion and ecstasy of the encounter.  I was quickly brought back down to earth as I leaned back too far and banged my head on one of the overhead cupboards.  Alex was too deep in to his fucking to notice and carried on.

I came several times as my legs waved around behind Alex’s bare thrusting buttocks.  With a loud intake of breath and a throaty whine Alex’s body tensed up and his head pushed back, he was coming.  I loosened my grip around his shoulders to allow him freedom of movement as his body contorted with his ejaculation.

“What’s that?”, I exclaimed.  “Christ, it’s my parents”, he replied as he quickly and abruptly pulled away from me, pulled up his trousers and boxers and pushed his still hard cock back inside.  I climbed down off the work surface and picked up my pants.  Have you ever tried to put on a g-string in a hurry?  It’s not easy.

We had just made ourselves presentable as his parents walked through the kitchen door.  I walked over to the kettle and pushed down the button again.  “Would you both like a drink?”, I asked as they said hello and greeted me with a hug and a kiss.  As I hugged his mum with my head on her left shoulder, I noticed a streak of glutinous fluid on the cupboard door next to the hob.

I released his mum and guided her in to the living room where Alex and his father had already taken a seat.  Then I hurried back in to the kitchen and wiped the door with a piece of kitchen towel.  For some reason I couldn’t stop smiling for the rest of the evening.  That was close.

I Love Children But I Couldn’t Eat A Whole One

Did you guess?  We had little nephew over to stay at the weekend.  Finally got him off to bed at 9:30pm on Friday night after playing hallway football, chase me up and down the stairs, try to figure out which cupboard or draw I’ll be opening next and the wonderful game of, lets turn on the lamps.  On, off, on, off.  😀

He is a real bundle of fun but the downside to him being so inquisitive and his boundless energy level is that we are completely fucked by the time he goes to bed.  And I don’t mean orgasmically fucked either.

We bathed him gave him his warm milk, changed his nappy and put him to bed.  Afterwards we came downstairs and flopped on the sofa to watch some TV and try to regain some energy.  After a few glasses of wine we decided that as he was quiet we would go to bed too.  So with glasses and bottle in hand we headed off to the bedroom.

Several glasses later we must have drifted off to sleep for the next thing we both knew, little nephew was shouting from his room.  He has got to the vocally expressive stage, he can say a few words of necessity like no (his favourite) and yes which is used with caution.  Lol  He was shouting something which neither of us good identify, maybe he was swearing in toddler speak I don’t know.

After changing him and giving him a drink, the plan was to put him in his cot and let him have a sleep.  He seemed quite lively so we tried putting him between us in bed hoping he would settle and fall asleep.  Well he wriggled and squirmed and kept kicking me in the back but me persisted in the vain hope that he would nod off and we could have an early morning shag.

Thirty minutes later…he was still awake and making his bid for freedom by climbing over me and dangling his feet over the edge holding on to the bedding until he slid slowly to the floor.  In the meantime pulling the covers with him and off of Alex.  😀

Despite our desperate attempts to get him off he wasn’t having any of it.  We got up, turned on our computers and headed down to the kitchen for breakfast.  Following breakfast we both logged on to our pc’s to catch up on our email.  Little nephew was contentedly playing with his building blocks in his room.

I was just about to start replying to one of our readers when little nephew came up to my chair waving a Tampax compak at me.  He had a big smile on his face and the look of expectancy.  I grabbed a hold of it and took it away whilst Alex overcame his laughter and sat little nephew on his lap.

I think he believed he had found a sweetie in Auntie Suze’s drawer as he kept saying chocolate in his cute little I can’t quite say it properly voice.  Lol  Tampax ran an advertising campaign months ago here in the UK which pointed out that Tampax Compak were so discreet you would think they were something else, insinuating that they could be easily perceived as a chocolate.

Who said advertising campaigns are unbelievable?

Sunday Round-Up

It’s good to have a clear-out from time to time, which is what we have done at Liclist. We noticed a few blogs that were now either dead links, or pointed to “Final Post” type messages, so we’ve removed them.

We also found some unusual activity on one blog. Because of this we’ve put extra checks on the ranking system to prevent that sort of naughtiness happening again.

And we have a new button for Liclist.

New Liclist ButtonIf you like it please copy it from here and use it in place of your existing one. There are no changes to the URL of the list or the code that “votes” for your blog. 

We’d also like to point out a project started by Mr Gently. The Sex Blogger Community. It’s young and fresh, and aims to bring together knowledge and experience of blogging to new and experienced bloggers alike.

Sex Blog Community 

Please support this project if you can. Current contributors are:
Juno Henry   
Mr Gently

SBC120x30 Image Both buttons designed by Suze 🙂

Something To Remind Me

AmeliaIt’s not the way you look,
It’s not the way that you smile.
Although there’s something to them.
It’s not the way you have your hair,
It’s not that certain style;
It could be that with you.

If I had a photograph of you,
It’s something to remind me.
I wouldn’t spend my life just wishing.

A Flock Of Seagulls, Wishing (If I Had A Photograph Of You), Listen, 1983

Chris slid the photograph album out of the carrier bag and laid it on the desk in front of him. It was bound in a deep red, textured leather save for the spine and corners that were finished in black. It smelled faintly musty, but was otherwise almost perfect.

It appeared unused, each cream-coloured page immaculate and only the occasional brown spot betraying its antiquity. He enjoyed the thought that the object in his hands had, through some accident of circumstance, remained inviolate for over a century entombed in the bottom of a chest or at the back of a cupboard.

He closed the album and lifted it to place it on the bookshelf next to his desk. He was surprised when a piece of heavy yellowed paper fell from between the leaves and landed on the carpet. It was a photograph, he had seen a flash of the image though it now lay emulsion side down. He placed the album on the desk and retrieved the print.

The back, written in copperplate, read; “Amelia, Nottingham Forest 1892”. He flipped the print over to view it. It was a picture of a young woman, dressed it would seem in the manner of the late 19th century. She was standing amongst oak trees, presumably in Nottingham Forest. The paper was slightly yellowed, though not badly, it must have been concealed between the pages of the album since it was taken. The print was sepia, not black and white and vignetted by the inadequate optics of the enlarger.

“Amelia” was looking coyly down the lens of the camera, her thick tresses worn down. Unusual for the period.

And something was not quite right. It was subtle and it took a moment to register. Amelia was not quite wearing her dress. She was in the process of slipping it from her shoulders. “A little gentleman’s relish.”, thought Chris, smiling to himself.

She had a beguiling look about her. Her eyes were deep and soulful, her skin a perfect ivory. The heavy velvet dress seemed poised, ready to fall to the floor at any moment. Its green velvet folds hung like a teetering avalanche of fabric.

Green? Chris blinked, he was tired. The sepia photograph looked back at him. Or at least Amelia did. He felt unable to put the photograph away, back in its leather bound sarcophagus.

Her eyes held his gaze, her chestnut red hair shining in the autumn sun. The shadows around them both were lengthening.

“Christopher” she said, voice deep and velvety, “I cannot hold this dress up much longer. Is that the last plate?”

He stood on a carpet of last year’s leaf mould and freshly fallen oak leaves. A mahogany tripod and camera were attached to the other end of the shutter bulb in his left hand. “Er, yes I think so.” Replied Christopher, confused. “You’ve nodded off you idiot” he told himself “Well, enjoy the dream”.

Amelia’s blue eyes burned with the light of Burmese sapphires as Chris walked toward her. A smile played across her lips when she noticed his gaze drop to her full chest. “Christopher, please!”. She blushed, but more out of duty than embarrassment. Good manners demanded she be modest.

“Oh, sorry. You just have wonderful breasts.” Replied Chris.

“Now really that is too much” she flustered. But her eye’s betrayed her true feelings. Her breathing quickened and she became acutely aware of her own heartbeat. “Now please fasten this dress.” She demanded, attempting to feign indignation while feeling the tingling between her legs. Nobody had ever been so forward with her, nobody had dared. Despite herself she wanted him to be that bold again.

Chris stood behind her and was about to fasten her dress when he saw the curve of her shoulders. He felt himself leaning forward and placing a single kiss at the junction of her shoulder and neck.

“Ah! Christopher!” objected Amelia, with little conviction. Her legs felt like they were about to give way.

Chris’s hands grasped her shoulders and turned Amelia around. He took her head in his hands and kissed her on the lips, full and passionately. His tongue pushed gently and inexorably into her mouth, finding an inexperienced partner within. Inexperienced but willing and eager to learn.

Amelia’s hands dropped to her sides, allowing the dress to fall in a heap on the floor. Her hands slid around his waist and pulled him close, only his linen shirt and her undergarments separating their burning flesh.

Their mouths parted. Chris looked into Amelia’s eyes, then up and down her shapely, rounded frame. His corduroy breaches contained his pulsing desire, for now.

She turned her back to him and bent over, straightening the dress into a sort of makeshift blanket. The sight of her firm round arse, covered in cotton bloomers excited him even more. He unbuttoned his flies and freed his erect cock.

Amelia, still bent over, looked over her shoulder to see Christopher, manhood rampant, poised to pounce on her. Her mouth opened to an O’ as he pushed her forward onto all fours.

He immediately knelt behind her and tore down her bloomers, the soft cotton shredding under the onslaught from his frenzied fingers. The smell of her sex was overpowering, her desire was as strong as his, hidden under the thin veil of society’s expectations of a gentlewoman. The delicious aroma of her pussy could not be disguised.

Her hands grasped at the dress and litter on the forest floor, both for purchase and the sensation this provided. Her fingers dug into the soft earth, almost clawing at it. She was utterly wanton, desiring to be taken by this strange man who she had met … when? It seemed only a few moments ago, yet she seemed to remember him asking her to pose for him …

… no matter she could feel the tip of his cock pushing its way through her light brown pubic hair. Now he was parting her labia. She licked her lips with the very tip of her tongue.

Chris pressed forward, into her waiting pussy, feeling every hot, wet contour filling her completely, then stretching her a little. She writhed underneath him, holding back the urge within her that wanted to scream out her lust. Instead containing it, whimpering, letting her social conditioning stifle the voice of her passion.

Chris could sense it. It excited him even more and at the same time infuriated him, spurring him to thrust into her hard and deep, making her arms collapse under the pounding. Her face was now amongst the leaves, chestnut hair spread around her head.

It was only when they both came, together, long and with an animal growl from Chris that she once again raised her face from the leafy carpet and screamed at the top of her voice.

The waves of pleasure ebbed, their breathing returned to normal. They held each other.

As Chris looked at Amelia her eyes began to loose their colour, but not their haunting quality. Her skin took on the colour of velum. He held up his hand and he too saw and felt the colour drain from himself.

Perhaps it’s not a dream? He thought. But if not what is it?


The album sat on the shelf in the antique shop for ten years before its next owner stumbled across it.

“Yes madam, it’s from a house clearance in the village I did several years ago. You may remember it, Young man Christopher Evans, just disappeared one day …”

I’m In The Moog For Dancing (Sorry!)

Multi MoogI almost forgot to update you on my last post What Would You Do?  You’ve all been waiting so patiently.  I’m almost tempted to be naughty and keep you waiting a little while longer.  Hehehe.  You just love the suspense I know you do.

Andy moved from behind his organ (insert your own punchline here) and came over towards me with his arm outstretched.  He smiled and attempted to put his arm around me saying “They sound like they are enjoying themselves”.

I backed away, there was no doubt in my mind that Andy thought his luck was in.  But not with this girl, her boyfriend would be waiting at the pub.  He sensed that I would not be reciprocating his advance and retreated to behind his Moog and started playing again.

You could have cut the air with a knife at that point.  I sat back down on the bed and listened to the strange combination of his rendition of Mercy, Mercy Me with backing vocals supplied courtesy of Karen and Glyn.

When the moans and creaks from the sofa died down I exited Andy’s bedroom with a cough to make them both aware of my presence.  As I walked down the stairs they were both busy tucking in shirts and pulling up panties.

So you see I had my chance to witness a live sex show in Andy’s living room and declined the invitation but next time, well who knows.

What Would You Do?

View DownstairsI posted a few day ago about being turned on listening to our neighbours fucking.  If you didn’t catch it it’s here.  That wasn’t the only time I got the opportunity to be a naughty voyeur, I just remembered about another time.  Do you want to hear about it?  Ok then…

This post starts off with a warning…never meet up with an old school friend after a number of years without contact and expect them to be the same person they were at school.  You can be sorely disappointed.  Right, that’s over with.

When I was in my early twenties I received a phone call from a friend who passed on the telephone number of a girl I hadn’t seen since high school.  She was my best friend at that time and after we left school we just seemed to drift apart and loose touch.

I was delighted, recounting the fun and games we got up to as teenagers and called her straight away.  She had married a guy we both knew from school (I didn’t tell her but I thought he was weird) and I couldn’t understand for the life of me why.  But hey, there is no accounting for taste.  Lol.  Ooh, I can be such a bitch sometimes.

She had not just gotten married but also moved to another part of the country.  At the time my boyfriend had a car and you’ve guessed it in one, I just had to go and visit.  This was to be an overnight stay because of the drive.  So we packed up and overnight bag and set off in to the deepest darkest depths of north Yorkshire.

She was living in a very quaint two bedroomed house in a little village.  I remembered him well, he was just the same as at school.  An annoying geek but perfectly harmless.  Karen looked just the same too, tall busty and perhaps a little slimmer than she used to be.

It was mid afternoon when we arrived so Karen showed us both up to our room and we unpacked the holdall we brought with us.  Had a quick kiss and a grope then tested the bed, it was firm and didn’t squeak!  The room was small but adequate, with its double bed and dressing table and small wardrobe.  I didn’t recon much to the chintz style but it was a country house after all.

When we had unpacked and paid a visit to the bathroom we headed downstairs.  Karen was cooking dinner and we sat and chatted with Gary, who seemed more interesting than last time I spoke to him all those years ago.  He opened a bottle of wine and we idled away the time until the full roast dinner appeared with Karen out of the kitchen.

Gary and Peter got on like a house on fire and Karen and I did some catching up on old times.  After dinner someone suggested that we went out to the pub.  We all agreed that was a great idea.  Gary suggested that he and Peter went out in his car, whilst Karen and I went out in ours (I had not long passed my driving test but felt comfortable driving).  We agreed to meet up at a pub later that evening.

Karen instructed me on how to get to the first pub.  It was a small pub with very modest fittings, old fashioned oak tables and chairs and lots of horse brasses.  A typical country hostelry.  We ordered the round and then took a seat over by the open fire.  As I recall it was early March and still a little cold.

We hadn’t been sat down for long when a tall dark haired guy and a medium height stocky guy walked in.  They stood out from the rest of the punters because they were far younger, more our age.  As they took their place at the bar to order the smaller one turned round and shouted over to Karen.  “Hi, I didn’t know you would be here”.  “I brought Suze in for a drink, she’s come over to visit, we haven’t seen each other for years”, she explained.

They both came over and pulled up seats to the table.  I must admit the other guy, the taller one, was quite cute.  Ahem…Karen began to tell him about me and I could tell that they knew each other well.  This will become apparent later in the story.

I got chatting to the other guy, who’s name was Andy as Karen and Glyn chatted and giggled to the side of us.  He was from Manchester, he moved up north for his girlfriend.  She had found a job in the local hospital and relocated, taking him with her.  He was currently looking for work but wanted to start a band.  Yes, I know there were a lot of dreamers around then.  😀

He seemed like a genuinely nice guy and to be honest I could tell he was interested in me.  I flirted like a pro, giving the odd flash of stocking top.  I didn’t say I was an angel when I was younger.  🙂  We all love to flirt, don’t we girls?  Come on, put your hands up I know it’s not just me.

A couple of drinks later, Karen turned to me suggested that we all go back to Andy’s as his gf was on late shift and the house was empty.  Just how she knew this I had no idea.  Maybe Andy had told Glyn.  Either way, we all headed for the car and I took up position in the driver’s seat with Karen and Glyn sitting in the rear.  They seemed to be quite friendly I thought.

I started driving under direction from Andy, he said he only lived a few mile away.  As I started off down the country lanes my eye was drawn to the rear view mirror.  I couldn’t believe what I witnessed.  I looked away momentarily and then back again…

Karen and Glyn were snogging in the back seat and he had his hand inside her shirt cupping her breast.  I turned to Andy and nodded, he turned round to check them out and then back to me with a smile on his lips.  “They have been seeing each other for months now, don’t tell Gary”, he confessed.

My mouth must have been wide enough to catch flies, who would have thought Karen who seemed so happy, could be playing around with another guy.  By the time we got to Andy’s I had recovered from the shock.  Brazen as anything Karen and Glyn climbed out of the car hand in hand and kissing.

Andy opened up the house and put the lights on.   We were alone, lucky for Karen and Glyn.  Andy grabbed some drinks from the kitchen and asked if I wanted to come upstairs and listen to him play his Moog.  I followed him up the stairs, leaving Karen and Glyn to their own devices downstairs, I didn’t think they even noticed us leave as they embraced each other.

Andy placed his can down and motioned for me to sit on the bed.  I sat down and he started to play his organ.  That sounds rude doesn’t it?  He was very good, talented in that he could play by ear.  Never had a lesson in his life but could play almost any of the chart hits at the time.  He was in to his 6th chart hit when I heard sounds from downstairs.

At first they were faint and indistinguishable.  Then I heard her “fuck me!”, she shouted.  I stood up and turned towards the bedroom door…

Now what would you have done in this situation?  Would you have resisted the urge to watch them fucking?  Or would you have taken your place on the stairs and enjoyed the spectacle unfurling before your eyes?

I’ll tell you tomorrow what I did.