Monthly Archives: July 2007

Please Make It Stop!

Creepy how some things stick in your head even though you’d prefer them not to. It’s like a pine needle in the carpet that you can’t vacuum out and you have to remove with tweezers and a torch. Except with memories it’s a little more difficult and a lobotomy has the obvious downsides …

I had a moment like this today, and I blame Shay. A few weeks ago she mentioned Smurf Porn. It’s the sort of phrase that you remember, for all the wrong reasons.

So I looked it up. Google’s a wonderful tool.

Enjoy, or laugh your socks off in whichever measure you see fit … Adult Smurf Video

Beyond The Pain

Yesterday evening’s events made me think just how strong and anaesthetising the emotions evoked by the sexual act can be.  Taking you out of your body and allowing you to float in a warm sexual haze.  Where discomfort and pain can be transcended just for a while as you are enveloped by the desire to be fucked and ultimately orgasm.

Alex was like a wild man last night, not that I haven’t encountered his animal passions in the past but last night was different, I encountered one of his most dominant and forceful fuckings.  We started off with me on all fours, head resting on his pillow and ass high in the air.  I wanted to fuck doggy, no smooching, no kissing or foreplay just a good hard fucking.  We have all been there at some point in our relationship haven’t we?.  Don’t deny it.  😉

He entered me and began at steady, tantalising pace, pulling fully out and then plunging back inside my moist pussy.  Gently slamming his groin against my cunt.  I wasn’t long before I groaned in to the pillow the words “I’m coming” this fueling the fire, making Alex gather speed.  He pushed with more determination in to my tingling, pulsing warmth.

This must have been his queue he began to ram me harder than normal.  As I came back down to earth I realised that his inner animal was controlling him.  He was banging so hard against me that my hip bones shook and I was being pushed so close to the headboard that I had to turn my head to one side to avoid banging it rhythmically on the wood as he fucked me relentlessly.  I felt the familiar warmth and the tell tale tingling as I came again.

He started to growl like a cage animal and his grip on my shoulders intensified, so much so that I was now aware of it.  His growls were accompanied by the sucking of breath through his teeth and his cock was so big and hard and angled in such a way that he was now pushing against my cervix.  Uncomfortable but turning me on even more.

I tried to move back against him to regain some space between my head and the top of the bed but it was no use, as I moved back against him he just grasped me harder.  I now felt a slight discomfort as he dug his fingers in to my flesh but it was soon tempered by my orgasm building again and the pain subsided, transcended once again by the intensity of my emotions.

His body was now almost smothering mine, he was in to me so deep it felt like he was trying to climb inside me, to become one with me.  It was all I could do to stop myself from bending my arms and collapsing flat against the mattress where I would surely be crushed by his weight now bearing down on me.  All I could hear were his guttural moans as he thrust harder and harder, deeper and deeper inside me.

The cartilage in my hips and knees, shoulders and elbows dampening his collisions with my pussy.  As he tirelessly took me from behind.  Despite all this I wanted him to continue, I wanted him to take me with need, urgency and animalistic drive.  I didn’t want to tame this beast, just enjoy the pleasures he was giving me, I was so turned on.

With one last thrust he flung himself over me for the final time, releasing his seed deep inside me.  Then he landed on top of my back, bringing us both down to the mattress.  He then convulsed and quivered for what seemed like minutes but were probably seconds as he jettisoned warm cum in to my waiting cunt.

We lay there together for a while regaining composure and him his breath.  I have never been taken like that before…I just hope it happens again.

I checked my shoulders in the mirror as we washed and there were distinct red fingerprints all over both of my shoulders.  Today I have a few small bruises to remind me of our carnal exploits, I couldn’t help but smile…

The Appliance Of Science

Daily life is a constant balancing act between your aspirations and your financial circumstances. If you’re comfortably off then that truth is less apparent than when you’re a little short of cash and some unexpected expense comes and bites you in the arse.

This week was no exception. Our oven decided to finally give up the ghost. It’s been playing up for months and we knew it was going to croak on us at some point but had been hoping that would be at some point in time when we had a little cash to spare. Yeah, right.

So we went out looking to select a nice new appliance today at a number of stores in the nearest town. It was in one of these that my mind started drifting, probably to take away the thought of the imminent pain in my wallet.

Suze spotted one model she liked, it would look out of place in our kitchen but so what. We inherited the kitchen when we bought the house and want to change it any way. Like that’s going to happen soon. Anyway, I’m lagging behind, wanting to just buy an oven and get home when I see her bending over to look inside.

She wasn’t doing the classic “Oh look I’ve just dropped something” – bend from the hips and stick your arse in the air type bend, but squatting next to the display. But the tight jeans she had on were displaying her backside in glorious Tight-Denim-O-Visionâ„¢.

I caught up and stood, looking down at her and admiring the view down her blouse. Suze had pulled the brochure out of the oven’s innards and was reading the list of features. She stood up and placed the pamphlet on the counter top and began reading it. I siddled behind her and slid my left hand up under her arm and onto her breast. She giggled “Stop it, they have cameras!”

“So?” I enquired, sliding my other hand to her waistband and fumbling with the button on her jeans. Suze slapped my hand, she knew I’m capable of giving her pussy a quick fondle whilst out shopping. I’ve done it a couple of times before, though not in establishments where the security was as obvious as in the shop we were in. I was only winding her up.

I kissed her on the neck and let go of her left breast before we were discovered. However the thought of sliding my hand down the front of her half-open jeans and slipping a finger or two between her soft warm labia stayed with me. Fingers constricted by her clothing, bathed in the moist warm air around her crotch, perfumed with her scent … Then there was the though of what might have come next, slipping her jeans over her beautiful backside, leaving them mid-thigh to hold her legs together, sliding my hard cock into her. Suze’s hands spread against the tiles at the back of the faux kitchen, bracing herself against my thrusts. The threat of imminent discovery, or the chance that the cameras were observing and recording us making the fuck fast and frantic.

However I didn’t because despite being randy I’m not that reckless. How about you guys?

There Ain’t Nothing Like A Boob

I was at work today and found myself, fingers poised above the keyboard, staring through the monitor. I’d drifted off and was imagining myself elsewhere. Luckily my daydreaming was probably misread by my colleagues as deep concentration, so no problem there.

What I was thinking about was breasts. Specifically the sensations I associate with them. The feel of them, the smell, the texture and the taste of them. Anatomically they are uniquely inviting, their attributes conspiring to draw a man’s eye and lure him in. I pride myself on appreciating “the whole package” when it comes to a woman, from the gentle dance of her hair as she walks through her waist and shapely hips and down to the very tips of her toes, not mentioning her calves, I like a nice calf.

Boobs are just one of those elements of a female’s attractiveness, so I’m sure I’ll cover the rest at some point, how they make me feel, how I like to touch them, hold them … but for today it’s just boobs.

The outline of a woman’s breasts, in full light or silhouette is enough to make take notice. It’s a reflex action, a man thing, hard-wired

The weight of a breast in the hand is in itself an appealing thought. The way it feels, soft pliable, yielding. To squeeze a breast in your hand is to experience something that adolescent boys dream about, their first handful of womanly flesh is the first step on their journey towards the ultimate goal. It’s a right of passage, that first fumbling grope, often hurried, always furtive. Yes they want to get into a girl’s pants, but breasts are second base, an experience for the guy and the girl. He is allowed to touch an intimate, delicate part of her and in giving her assent for this to happen confirms her interest. Even if their encounter goes no further a line has been crossed and can at a later date perhaps lead to … Well who knows.

The skin of a breast is so soft and smooth, it begs to be touched, cries out to be licked. That’s my preferred method of sampling the sensory delights of a woman’s breasts. With my tongue. I think women enjoy it too from the feedback I get 😉 After all a hand is fine for holding her breast, affirming your possession of it, your dominion over her bosom, but a tongue is so much more sensuous for both of those involved. The most agile muscle in the human body can perform such gymnastics in its exploration of the geography of a woman’s boobs.

My favourite piece of skin on the breast is underneath, on the outside. Soft and smooth, a tongue can press into the underlying tissue and feel the weight of the breast. Inward toward the centre of the chest the skin changes texture as I circle round and over the top of the nipple in ever decreasing circles until I arrive at the areola and its central peak, a firm, sensitive nipple.

Using the tongue to traverse a breast means that I can both smell and taste a woman’s body too, my nose and taste buds in intimate contact with her epidermis. I’m not talking about the smell of perfume, but the smell of a woman. It’s subtle and more potent than any manmade concoction. It’s unique to the individual and as variable a woman’s mood. That’s not to say there’s anything wrong with perfume, it’s just that a woman’s scent, uncamouflaged by chemicals is very arousing if you take the time to savour it.

Taking a nipple into your mouth, feeling its firmness, sucking, caressing with your tongue, that’s a sensation that you take time to do way after second base, maybe after you made a home run. In the rush towards your first copulation you miss the sensory pleasures that can make the ultimate act so much more enjoyable. That is youth, impatient and impulsive. That’s its strength and weakness.

Where as experience means you know how to relish the pleasures of a woman’s body. Unfortunately it means you occasionally drift of into a daydream at work.

The Best A Man Can Get

I won’t deny that I love a guy with a clean shaven cock and balls, nothing like running your hands around soft, smooth balls, even better rolling them round in your mouth.  I’ve been shaving Alex’s pubic area for about 2 years now and I wouldn’t have it any other way.  There is something quite sensuous about shaving your man.

He trusts me complete now and can lay back and enjoy the experience, so much so that by the time I get to the last quarter to shave he is usually standing to full attention.  My little reward for making such a good job of it is to be fucked hard. 

But first I have to do the soft and smooth test, this involves me kissing the flesh in a circle all around his cock, then I finish off by sucking each ball in turn in to my mouth and giving it a little roll around with my tongue.  By now Alex’s cock is usually bouncing on my forehead depositing pre cum on my flesh and hair.

There are many reasons for having a clean shaven cock…

  • It’s easier to keep clean and you can soon tell if there are any unwanted guests.  🙂
    It has a certain amount of appeal the contrast of the pre-pubescent hairlessness and the man size cock.
  • The novelty factor if your man is usually hirsute down there it can quite a turn on
  • It can also make your cock look larger, they say up to an inch in length  😉
  • But the best reason of all, at least in my books is that you don’t get pubic hairs caught up in your teeth when you go down on your man and they don’t tickle your nose when you give him a blow job.

I have noticed a tendency of late to only grow a small patch of pubic hair above the top of the penis and have everything else bald.  This looks slightly amusing and can only be described as a wait for it…

…”Cockbrow”â„¢

It appears quite commonly on male porn stars, perhaps striking the happy medium between being totally hairless and slightly hairy.

On the subject of hair removal, one word of warning, and this is taken from experience…don’t use depilatory creams around his cock.  We tried it once and the skin around Alex’s cock was chemically burnt.  It would probably last longer if I could use a cream but not advisable.

However, wax on the other hand…”Alex why are you running away”?

I’ll be right back, let me know your thoughts on male pubes.

Sunny Gym

A little bit of sun can make a huge difference to my mood these days and it’s not just because of the horrible weather we’ve been having over what we laughingly refer to as the English summer. I think I mentioned it last year around this time, that more so than ever I feel the need to have at least a little bit of sun on my face during at least part of the year. So today, almost rain-free as it was a welcome respite from the gloomy wetness that has prevailed for so long.

So even as I started cycling at gym and my right knee twinged in a way which threatened a sudden end to my warm-up I carried on going. And my knee didn’t give up the ghost, in fact it felt better for the 20 minutes of punishment I gave it. Dripping with sweat I gave the weights a bit of what-for and finally was persuaded by Suze, against my better judgement, to finish off (or perhaps finish myself off) with a bit of rowing.

If we could afford a rowing machine, a proper rowing machine and perhaps an exercise bike I think we could almost cancel out gym membership. The garage would be converted and the car journey to and from the gym would be eliminated. Very green. We both love rowing, great all round exercise. But not when you’re knackered as I was.

I set up the computer and grasped the bar (the machine is one of those with a chain driven fan that provides the resistance (similar to this). I got a few strokes in, queue schoolboy/girl giggles from you all 😉 then started to feel a bit hazy. However being on a bit of a high I didn’t do the sensible thing, i.e. stop, I carried on.

Instead of my hands grasping the wooden handle of the rower they were now grasping Suze’s hair, gathered into pigtails. With each backward stroke I was pulling her head into my stomach, her mouth onto my cock. Had I been doing it for real my stomach would have been black and blue from the impact of her head. My cock would have been rammed down her throat with brutal force. And the angles were all wrong, I know, but in my euphoric endorphin fuelled state it all seemed to make sense. I can feel it now, the urge to fuck her face, force my cock into her throat. Something that I’ve never done, too porn star, lacking in feeling, but in my trippy state of being, stripped of inhibitions, quite natural.

Then things went kind of squishy and when they solidified again I was still holding Suze but this time from behind, my hand gripping her shoulders, fingers digging into her flesh. She was in a love swing in god knows what orientation because instead of the usual steady swing of such contraptions I was pumping away with my legs whilst simultaneously pulling her back onto my swollen cock. Her pussy filled and stretched with each swing, only to be emptied as I withdrew fully before plunging back in again. It was my brain putting the euphoric naughtiness and physical reality together. I didn’t say it made sense. 😛

So then I stopped, not because I wasn’t enjoying it, but because the flashing, dancing, twinkly lights in my peripheral hinted that I might fall off the rowing machine and start gibbering. Lucky for me at least part of my mind wasn’t tripping and I stopped.

So while I wouldn’t advise pushing yourself quite that hard at gym it can certainly have an interesting effect.

Waxing Lyrical

I mentioned a couple of weeks ago that I was very much interested in indulging in a little wax play having enjoyed the sensation of warm melted wax dripping on to my hand from a candle.  The warm caress of the molten wax on my skin is something I really desire to indulge in.

And over the past few weeks I have been consulting with my fellow readers here on the blog, friends on MyDungeonSpace and reading up bits here and there on the Internet.  And the general consensus seemed to be that the best type of wax for this kind of kinky play is paraffin wax because it has a low melting point.

There was conflicting advice as to whether the addition of colouring or perfume agents increased the melting point of the wax itself.  So, I wasn’t quite sure which way to go as far as colours were concerned although I did want to add them for photographic reproduction.  I wanted to take some pics to post up for you all to view.

So, at the moment the jury is out on colour.  I may be brave to try adding it once I have tried paraffin wax au natural.

I looked up the nearest craft/hobby store and made my mind up that Alex and I were going to pay a visit.  We checked on the Internet and there was a superstore a short drive away from us.  We drove to the store and I was as giddy as a kipper when I got there.  It was just like Christmas.

We had never been in this hobby store before, it was bloody huge.  We walked past little old ladies selecting coloured card and shiny things to sick on to homemade cards.  Children selecting coloured squares of felt with their mother, something to keep them quiet during the Summer break.  Women selecting silk flowers to arrange in a display.

Meantime Alex and I were walking between the isles seeking out our latest kinky purchase, it felt a little bit naughty and I was wearing a smile.  All those people innocently choosing their crafting materials and we were there with our minds focused on the illicit act of pouring warm wax all over my bare breast and watching it run down them, slowly solidifying.  I’ll have to move on, I just felt a slight tingle down there.  😉

We walked past isles with paint, knitting materials…I know wool!  Lol  bolts of cloth, artists stamps, papers and the like but no sign of any candle making paraphernalia.  Then I spotted some candle making kits and glass painting kits, surely we were getting closer to our quarry.  It couldn’t be long before we are on the components section, where you can buy in bulk to make lots of candles.

And after all we were now nearing the back of the store.  The place where all the naughty and secretive craft supplies hang out.  🙂  As we came closer to the back wall of the store…nothing!  Absolutely nothing.  A kit wasn’t going to be nearly enough wax to play with and where were the crock pots to melt it in?  Sorry, almost forgot where I was then.  This was a craft store not a sex store.

I was so excited at the prospect of purchasing a huge block of wax and driving off home with it but we couldn’t find it and frustration was beginning to set in for both of us.  Alex walked over to a passing assistant and asked him if they sold paraffin wax.

I couldn’t believe his reply, “we don’t but you may be able to buy it online from somewhere”.

Bugger, bugger, bugger…

Every Now And Then Someone Notices!

Regulars will be fully aware that Alex and I don’t participate in Meme’s or Quizes but that doesn’t mean that we aren’t grateful when our hard work here is rewarded.  It truly takes up a lot of time effort and creativity to constantly produce quality reading on a daily basis.  Just ask any blogger and they will back me up and that one.  Lol.

Not to say that I don’t enjoy letting you all share in a little of my life and experiences, I like to make you all feel a part of this site and hopefully I achieve that.  😉  As I said from the start, from the day we created AlexSuze, I wanted this place to be an extension of me, a place to share my thoughts and daily activities with you all.

So it’s wonderful when your readers show their appreciation for your efforts by selecting you for a blogger award.  And I’m pleased to say *blush* that I have been selected twice this week for the accolade of “Rockin’ Girl Blogger”.

I was selected by both Ms SD from Sexy Duet’s Sex Diary and Mistress Milliscent, who can dominate me any time she likes.  If you want to hear what they both said about me just click the links and pay them a visit.

Right, I’m off with my big head if I can still get through the doorway.  Lol

Executive Stress

It’s that time of year again, when everyone books their summer holidays which always results in staffing problems.  No matter where I have worked in the past, you always end up covering for people who are off on their jollies.

Today was one of those days, with very little staff we all had to cover for the absent and it wasn’t easy without the ability to clone.  By mid morning I had just about reached the end of my tether trying to be all things to all men/women in the office.

And when I left for lunch my colleagues shouted after me not to forget to come back.  I must admit the thought did cross my mind.  We spent the morning explaining that we were short staffed and it would not be easy to carry the requests from various people who were all perfectly understanding, right to the point where they said “Well, when you get the chance can you…”.  Lol

I drove off to the sandwich shop with thoughts of never going back again but I had to…we need the money.  And truth be known, I don’t enjoy being out of work and talking to nothing other than the cat all day.  So on reflection it is better than not working at all.

There was still a good 20 minutes left after I finished eating my tuna salad on French and my thoughts turned to stress relief.  I checked my side and rear windows and couldn’t see anyone about.  I unzipped my trousers and unbuttoned the waistband.  It’s a little more awkward getting inside your panties with trousers on but my trousers were quite loose once I unzipped them and I wiggled them down slightly to allow ease of access to my pussy.

I wet my right middle finger and eased my fingers between my lips and began to tease my clit.  I moved it from side to side and up and down but it just wasn’t working for me.  I re-wet my fingers and rubbed a little firmer against my pink button.  No, it just didn’t seem to be happening.

I must have been so tense that I couldn’t get in to the swing of things and today I could have rubbed one out without anyone knowing as it was raining and nobody had ventured out.  Bugger, the first time I have wanted to get down and dirty with nobody around and I’m not relaxed enough.

It would have been the perfect time for some battery operated intervention but I had nothing with me in the car.  Mental note made to leave something interesting in my glove compartment to relieve executive stress or even better I need a toy which can be worn whilst sat at my desk, preferably quiet and with a remote control…hmmm!

Village Shop – Part 2 of 2

Janet looked up at James, his deep brown eyes staring back at her. He was good at that bit, making them think they were special, that he cared. Cared? Not really. Oh they were pleasant enough for the most part and some, like Janet were little goers and without them the job would be somewhat different.

The water from the showerhead was already soaking her shoulder length brown hair, making it cling to her neck, she blinked to disperse the falling droplets from her eyes. He pulled her to him, rubbing his hardening cock on the now damp cotton of her dress. Here nipples and areola were clearly visible through the fabric, hard and prominent. His large muscular hand grasped one enticing mound and gave it a gentle squeeze. She smiled up at him, and pressed her belly against his erection.

Her chest heaved with excitement, a spectacle not lost on James who yearned to rub soap onto the soft flesh of her breasts, massage it round and round, before sliding his cock between them.

But it was Janet who made the next move. She slid to her knees, head level with his groin. With her left hand she cupped his balls, the right stroked him up and down. At first she did just stroke, feeling his contours, the softness of the skin, the ridges of the veins, the firm blood-filled tissue within. Her hand’s gripped tightened and encircled his girth, drawing his foreskin back and forth. Each time she drew it back watching the smooth head of his penis emerge from within its enveloping sheath of skin with increasing excitement.

She kissed the tip of his glans, teased the entrance to his urethra with the tip of her tongue. His hand rested gently on the side of her head, he was resisting the urge to push his cock between her lips, enter her mouth. She enjoyed that, knowing that she could still excite a man, get him going, even if Edward wasn’t interested. She knew there was no feeling between her and James, except perhaps that one might find between acquaintances. A slight affection maybe, she was sure that wasn’t one-sided, but she wasn’t deluding herself it was anything more than a mutually agreeable business transaction.

Janet took the head of his penis into her mouth and sucked on it gently. The feel of it on her tongue filling her mouth was making her heart flutter. She had never let him deep into her mouth, but now she wanted to. He watched his cock disappear between her lips, felt its tip slide across the roof of her mouth, her tongue undulating across the frenulum. It came to rest against her soft palette.

Janet closed her lips tightly around his shaft and threw her head back, raking her teeth down the skin of penis. Then back again drawing him in. This time when he touched the back of her mouth she forced her head towards him trying to squeeze the swollen head of his cock into her throat, eventually giving up, releasing him and gagging. Janet looked up at James, disappointed, he stroked her hair again and everything seemed alright.

Janet began again, this time contenting herself with sucking, licking and nibbling him while his hips gently swayed fucking her mouth. The heat between her thighs was like a furnace, she imaged the water streaming down her boobs turning to steam as it ran between her legs.

She felt a change in his rhythm, a pumping in his groin. His balls, already tight seamed to draw themselves up further. She felt herself, without thinking, sliding her hand towards his ass, sliding her middle finger onto his anus and pressing gently. James let out a surprised gasp which mingled with his orgasmic grunts.

Janet felt her mouth fill with thick warm fluid. She released James’ cock from her mouth, watching, enthralled by the cum still oozing from his tip.

She looked up at him again. He saw the glint in her eye and smiled as she swallowed then licked lips. Her hand took his flagging member and milked it, watching the white droplets fall to the tiled floor and be washed away by the streams of water.

Village Shop – Part 1 of 2

“How much!” Edward stared at the total on the invoice in disbelief. “How the hell did she manage to run this account up on groceries? She’s not started on the cooking sherry has she?” It was half joke half serious enquiry.

“I’m afraid we aren’t as cheap as the supermarkets but you must realise that our produce is ethically produced and for the most part organic. From local farms too so its carbon footprint is very … “. Mrs Forsythe’s voice trailed off, Mr Collins wasn’t listening just shaking his head and fumbling in his wallet for his credit card.

“It’s not your fault, she’s signed for all this bloody stuff.” He handed over his card and tapped in his PIN. “And yes your food is very good.” Mr Collins smiled and left.

Mrs Forsyth picked up the phone behind the counter and dialled quickly. Pick up, pick up she thought to herself as she heard Mr Collin’s BMW roar into life and speed off.

“Janet it’s Margaret … You husband’s just been in and he thought this month’s bill was excessive … yes he did pay but he’s a little miffed, mention to him that I called and as a gesture of goodwill I’ll discount next month’s bill by ten percent … you’re welcome, my dear you are such a good customer I wouldn’t want to loose you … yes same as usual, tomorrow at ten. Goodbye.”

~~~

Janet lay on the bed in the master bedroom, naked except for her white camisole and silk kickers. She listened to the sound of Edward clattering around in the walk-in wardrobe.

“Have you seen my new gloves?”

“What new gloves?”

“The ones I bought while I was at Saint Andrews.”

She rolled her eyes, didn’t he have enough golf paraphernalia without a new set of gloves every few weeks, shoes every few months, a new iron … well she had her indulgences.

“It’s alright, I’ve found them.”

She rolled onto her side to face the wardrobe door, D-cup breasts jostling for position, threatening to spill out of her camisole.

Collin emerged and pecked her on the cheek. “See you later dear, about four-ish I think, the captain wants to discuss a few things with me.”

“OK, bye then …” her words were spoken to his back as he trotted out of the bedroom and off to his regular Saturday appointment with his mistress the golf club.

She looked at the clock, 09:35. She had enough time … her hand slipped inside her knickers and onto her mound, trimmed to a Brazilian, neat and tidy. She would have preferred a Hollywood, but then Edward would have had a fit. He was very traditional and it had taken him a while to get used to her waxing as it was. Not that he ever gave it a close inspection.

Her humidity increased, deep in the valley between her thighs, middle finger parting her swelling folds, seeking out the path to joy. Then she stopped herself. No, wait, better to wait.

At ten sharp the doorbell rang, Janet opened the door a few moments later. She had dressed in a thin white cotton summer dress and sandals. “Hello James.” She said with a warm smile. “Bring it through.”

James the store’s delivery boy lugged the large box of groceries through to the kitchen and placed it on one of the granite work surfaces. Janet watched the muscles in his arms as he moved, gliding over one another under his sun-kissed skin. He had on a black T-shirt, blue jeans and white trainers. The T-shirt was too small for him, deliberate she was sure, hugging every curve of his firm, muscular torso, exposing his belly just above the waistband of his jeans.

James began to unpack the box but Janet stopped him “I’ll do that later. Come with me.”. He was surprised, she usually liked to watch him stretch and bend as he put away her purchases.

Today was different. Janet took the twenty year old’s hand and led him to her bedroom.

“Undress.” She instructed, watching as he peeled off his clothes. He smiled, he liked this call, she knew what she wanted and she wasn’t bad looking either. And he liked big breasts. Janet was particularly enticing as she was a petite woman, five feet to his six-two, but blessed with a full chest and responsive nipples.

Janet waited until he stood in front of her, naked and with a gratifyingly swollen cock swinging between his legs. His legs were spread slightly for effect, though the impressive size of his thick, veined cock needed little assistance to solicit a wide-eyed look of appreciation from Janet. She’d seen him undressed more times than she cared to mention but it still thrilled her.

Janet walked up to James, almost touching him, but not quite. She could smell him, sweat, musk, man. “You need a shower.”

She watched as the water streamed down his skin, her view semi-obscured by the shower door. Bubbles following his hands as he applied the soap she had given him to his body. She managed to contain herself for a couple of minutes, the heat between her legs increasing, but soon she could no longer resist the smouldering looks he flashed at her and relented.

She slid back the door of the shower and, still fully clothed stepped inside and into James’ arms.

To be concluded, tomorrow.

Good Touch/Bad touch – Sex Is What You Make It


Incubus by ~Enslavedbymetal on deviantART

Human beings will always have sex, be that for procreation or recreation, until we evolve to a form that doesn’t require it to breed. Even then I suspect that our fondness for the practice will ensure that we retain the physical attributes, hormonal mechanisms and emotional predisposition towards fucking.

To have sexual urges and to deny them is to repress that which is irrepressible, and that can only lead to problems. But to make out that the physical act of love is in itself intrinsically virtuous is also wrong. There it is you see “physical act of love”. There is no love involved in the physical act itself, not even the tiniest mote of affection is inherent in sexual intercourse. Animals procreate sexually, but particularly in the species with smaller brains, lower intelligence and little or no social hierarchy their procreation is based on instinct and the need to transfer genetic material.

So if in the words of  the Bloodhound Gang “You and me baby ain’t nothing but mammals, so let’s do it like they do on the Discovery Channel.”, what place is there for love?

I believe that sex means what you want it to mean be that affection, dominance, submission, love, lust or a combination of all of those and more. Some people use it as an outlet for their problems, such as their inability to relate on an emotional level, or as a weapon against the individual with whom they are engaged in sex with or the sex/social grouping that other person belongs to. This is a corruption of something that is intrinsically beautiful.

You see while I do not believe that sex in itself implies love or even affection, sex is beautiful on a number of levels. The mechanics of the process are the product of evolution and like all such wonders of nature are imbued with an intrinsic beauty. The means by which the smallest and largest cells in the human body are united to produce the source of a new human life are astonishing.

The participants engaged in sex are subject to a complex mix of emotions, sensations and thoughts. The first time is usually exciting, surprising, an adventure into the unknown with a very happy conclusion … usually. Afterwards you and your attitudes towards sex develop, maybe you change your sexual orientation. How many people have denied their homosexuality or bisexuality only in later life to accept it?

The society in which we live still judges us, not least when it comes to sex. have you ever met anyone (female) who brags about her sexual conquests openly in the office … and yet in certain environments it’s OK for men to do so. I’m sure some of you ladies will take this as proof of the relative emotional immaturity of one half of the human population.

Society still doesn’t accept homosexuality. Despite its decriminalisation in the UK decades ago there is still prejudice, clumsy innuendo pedalled by ill-educated fools. All gay guys are wildly camp, right? All lesbians wear dungarees and Doc Marten’s, yeah? In the same way that all blondes are dumb and all used car salesmen are dishonest.

But I digress, from the beauty of sex to the ugliness of society. An understandable digression I think you’ll agree as society’s inability to accept a variety of sexualities is patently obvious.

I suppose what I set out to say at the beginning of this post is that sex is what you make it. If you want quick and meaningless without strings, fine, so long as it’s safe sex and consenting then what is the problem? The problem is that it is rare enough for one individual to know themselves well enough to be able to disentangle sex from emotional attachment … so how can you be sure your fuck buddy can do it too?

Lust, wild monkey sex and the post coital glow can also mean that a well ordered psyche and perfectly balanced mind can turn to mush before, during and after the act. So the casual fuck is a bit of a minefield even for those of us who think we can handle it. Not to realise that is naive, to take advantage of that is at best cynical, at worst twisted.

Sex is a powerful thing, control it, don’t let it control you, and never let anyone else use it to control you.

Tags: Sex,sex and love, sexual attitudes, homosexuality,gay, lesbian,stereotypes, bloodhound gang, bad touch, fuck buddy

The Death Of Reality TV

We’re in mourning. Tonight reality TV died. Big Brother UK sank to the lowest depths we’ve ever witnessed and performed a “fake eviction”. They have now re-inserted the most obnoxious housemate ever, after the rest of the inmates (yes I chose that word carefully) thought they’d got rid of the fake, narcissistic, self-serving, hideously twisted Charlie.

The show has finally transformed from reality TV to soap opera, except in this soap the production company gets to sack all the actors at the end of the series without resorting to an Eldorado style bus crash to terminate their contracts.

The manipulation of the format has tied the original idea into such a complex knot that Alexander would be the only one to be able to unravel it. IMHO The rules change each week to suit what the production team see as the best way to keep viewers and that has just turned what was an entertaining programme four series ago into a freak show.

Where next for this chameleon like format?

Perhaps next year we scrap the UK BB house and just take the feed from one of the other houses running across the world? Could it be any worse?

Tags: Big Brother,reality TV,Eldorado,Alexander The Great,Gordian Knot

I Blame Bill Turnbull!

Alex doesn’t know this or at least he didn’t until now.  Lol  That when he leaves 40 minutes before I get up in a morning, I have a little bit of a languish between the sheets and…Ok, I own up to it, I have a play with myself.

It puts me in the right mood to get up and go to work.  I wonder if they ever speculate about why I am always pleasant first thing in a morning at work.  😉  Every girl should do it before they go to work, it changes your attitude for the whole day ahead.  Well, perhaps it doesn’t last all day when that bastard in the office winds you up but you did try.

So there I was this morning armed with my Cherry Nibbler, no more manual clit stimulations since I discovered that wonderful sex toy.  Anyway…I digress.  I pushed the cover off and licked my right middle finger then ran it around my eager clit.  It was already expectantly swelling for action.

I forgot to turn off the BBC Breakfast News in my eagerness to be satisfied and lay back on the pillow after reaching in to my bedside drawer and retrieving my little battery operated assistant.  😉

I pressed the button on the base once and the familiar hum began and I shuffled in to the mattress to get a more comfortable position, parting my legs as I did so.  I wet the rubber cup with my saliva and parted my pussy lips to aid placement over my needy clit.

That felt good as I pushed the cup over my pink nub.  One more press of the button and the speed increased creating a wave of stimulation over my sex.  I could feel the tension ebb out of me as I pushed the button once more for the fastest constant speed, I was saving the pulse setting for when I was closer to coming.

Just me and the gentle hum and then something broke through my hazy masturbatory mind….SCAT! resounded the normally reserved Bill Turnbulls voice…I continued disbelieving my ears.  Then again he said SCAT.  I opened my closed eyes and focused on the screen.  In the studio with him he had Cleo Laine and John Dankworth.

For those who have never heard of it before, it is a jazz singing style which encompasses some very strange words as quoted by Wikipedia bippity-bippity-doo-wop-razzamatazz-skoobie-doobie-bee-bop-a-lula-shabazz” is a very good example.  Lol

I now found myself giggling as I thought about other meaning for this, which is in simple terms “Poo Play”, I know it sounds gross.  Now you can understand why I was completely put off my private wanking session thanks to Bill.  The funniest thing about the whole interview was that he kept on repeating the word as if he knew the alternative meaning for it.

Bill you are so naughty!

Not All Sweetness And Light

We’re not all in relationships, conventional or otherwise. But what’s worse than not being in a relationship? Being in the wrong relationship or wrong kind of relationship.

D/s and BDSM relationships are often misunderstood by those who do not understand them as being abusive. However in a well balanced relationship D/s or BDSM  the Dom and the sub fulfil needs for each other and in doing so can have a bond that, even if they comprehend it, a vanilla couple can sometimes only imagine. Being so close to the edge creates an interdependency that at its best is a beautiful thing.

Sadly not all relationships, D/s or vanilla, are so perfect. For some people, predominantly women but often men, a relationship can be stifling, ugly or even mentally or physically abusive.

Luna of The Iron Gate, brought to our attention a charity recently, one with a very specific mission statement. She will be taking part in a Blogathon on for that charity later this month (28 Jul 2007). So if you feel you can lend her your support and/or donate to her chosen cause, please do so.

Tags: D/s,BDSM,domestic violence,blogathon

Sexual Mishaps

I spent most of yesterday outside taking in the sun and relaxing. Whilst frittering away a Sunday afternoon I began to think about some of the sexual mishaps I have encountered over the years.

They usually occur as a result of over enthusiasm or misjudgement and can be anything from funny to damn right painful, or both. The end result is usually one or other of you being discomforted in some way.

The first which springs to mind is the I’ve not quite thought it out properly shag. About a year ago I took up an office job and was entrusted with a key to the premises. Well you know me and Alex by now, we both fancied a good hard shag on the boss’s desk (I know it’s a little cliché, but at the same time fun.)

On the particular evening in question the door to the boss’s office was locked and unfortunately I didn’t have a key. So Alex and I decided to have a shag on the thick wool carpet outside his door. We were both so horny that we could not be bothered to find somewhere more “safe”.

We got straight down to it, no foreplay necessary as Alex was already as stiff as a board. My pants were wet enough to wring out, I was definitely up for it. He knelt before me, his hard prick pointing at it’s destination. Alex grabbed behind both of my knees and guided me on to his erection. I shuddered a little with the pleasure of his entry.

I placed my feet either side of his head and he began to push deeper in to my moist folds. I gripped him with my legs and began to move around on his shaft. Before long we were at it hammer and tongs, Alex was pumping so hard in to me that I could feel myself being literally fucked along the carpet. We fucked and fucked and then came on my braless tits. Then it hit me, my back was really sore.

Without even noticing as I was that engrossed in my carnal desire, I had a huge friction burn at the base of my spine. Alex got away with it quite lightly, he just had sore knees. We now use a blanket or whatever is near us when we fuck on carpet, lesson learned.

My next thought is that of female masturbation damage. With a previous boyfriend during “finger fun” I had the top layer of skin planed from my pussy lips. He was working his fingers deeper and faster in to me and either was extremely wet or he got a little over excited. His fingers were working their way in and out of me and I was close to orgasm, when it happened. On the withdrawal stroke his finger nail dug in to my wet pussy lips and removed a slither of skin. “Ow”, that hurt!

One which happened recently is the missing the pussy accident. This can take on two forms, the first being a direct miss and ending up in a surprised anus. Or the later, that the guys cock misses on the in stroke and nearly bends in two. You really have to be careful when giving hip moving feedback to you man, it can result in either of these two mishaps. I have to make sure that Alex’s cock is well in to me before writhing on his prick.

The final mishap, which I admit to causing on more than one occasion involves blow jobs. You are working away on your mans cock and he’s groaning with the sensation of you sucking him off, coupled with the visual of your head moving up and down over his erect penis. You get a little too excited and step up the action and the next thing you know his glans is being scraped over your teeth. Fortunately for me, and Alex for that matter, I’ve never caused serious harm to him with this one. It could be due to him enjoying his blow jobs so much, he tends not to feel discomfort while in the act but often complains of soreness after.

Thankfully none of the above have involved A & E, I would not like to explain to them how the injuries had occurred!

International Be Yourself Day

I’m not the most conventional person. Indeed we’re not the most conventional couple. If you’re a regular you’ll know that. However when not writing a blog about sex I do manage (most of the time) to maintain a thin veneer of normality. It is something of a prerequisite if I’m to hold down a job and function in daily life amongst the rest of humanity.

Funny how we make allowances for real life isn’t it. It’s so tempting to just ignore convention and politeness and speak your mind sometimes. Tempting, but not very common.

It’s like a children’s TV presenter swearing or, naming no names here, taking drugs. It’s not just out of character it seems so wrong as to jar against your instinctive sensibilities. Take today’s Big Brother’s Little Brother (yes another BB reference, sorry). It was presented by two comedians whose most famous gig was a show on BBC childrens channel CeeBeebies “Big Cook Little Cook”. As you can imagine, on that show there was no innuendo, smut or swearing. So to hear them using the F word, talking about sex and doing nob gags is both incongruous and and funny.

Strangely I had another similar experience at work today. One manager who I have worked with for about eight months swore during a conversation with me. Not to me, or about me, but he swore and it seemed odd. Odd because I’d never heard him swear before, had always avoided profanity and is rarely angry or stressed.

So I’m thinking here … why can’t we have an official “Be Yourself Day”?

We all get to talk bout things that are on our minds, frankly, openly and without fear of subsequent recrimination. We can use whatever language we want, dress how we want (cast off the work suite or the dumb-looking paper hat and badge with “Hi I’m Alex, pleased to serve you” on it).

We could talk about sex, swear at customers, better yet swear at managers hehehe (no they aren’t all deserving of a gob full, just a choice few).

We could all get our problems out in the open and dispel any misapprehensions others have about us. It wouldn’t all be negative, surely, perhaps you’d get compliments from people who you’d least expect to be complimentary.

Yeah, like we’re all going to take kindly to our faults pointed out by everyone around us and the next day forget all about it and not want to drop an Acme brand anvil on your detractor’s heads as they walk out their front door the next morning. In all seriousness I know it would lead to riots.

Hmmm, I started off thinking that it would be nice to talk about some issues openly, now I’m realising that I wouldn’t want to listen to some people’s fantasies.

Perhaps we should just all realise that each of us has a different face for different situations and a different image to project that we feel is appropriate to those we find ourselves amongst at the time.

So much for that bright idea.

Tags: Big brother,free speech,fantasies

I Just Can’t Resist And I Know I Should

Every year I say that I won’t watch Big Brother and make the fatal mistake of just taking a look and then before you know it you’re hooked.  Lol  I recon that Endemol must be sending subliminal messages out through the screen telling me and others to watch.

In fact, I said that I would not be blogging about it and look what I’m doing!  Up to now I think this year’s has been the least captivating with the housemates being as dull as dishwater, with the exception of Gerry who brings enlightenment and intelligence from time to time. 

The girls have been very disappointing in terms of being eye candy or at all interesting, in fact they have done nothing positive for the blonde fraternity.  For some reason the male housemates never seem to be the type that get my juices flowing and in previous shows I have found the females more attractive and beddable.  😉

I did have hope that Ziggy would turn out to be a fanny teaser but I must admit that I find him annoying.  So I have been watching on and add hoc basis just to keep up with the story lines and to see if anyone has punched Charlie in the face.  For those who haven’t been watching, she is the most irritating gob shite I have ever had the misfortune to come across.

That was the situation until Sunday…they put a new girl in there by the name of Thaila Zucchi, she is a British actress pretending to be from the Australian house and called Pauline.  She is, in a nutshell, …gorgeous! 

There I go again looking at younger girls, what’s got in to me.  First I’m eyeing up girls in the local sandwich shop near work and now brunettes on television.  I think it’s about time I found a girlfriend, don’t you think?   Women are certainly doing it for me lately.  😉

Tags: Big Brother,Pauline,Pooh,Thaila Zucchi,Channel 4,Endemol

Clarissa – Part 6 The Coming Storm


red by !yoursweetsix-six-six on deviantART

You can either read the earlier parts of this story using the links below, or imagine them for yourself. The choice, as they say, is yours: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4 and Part 5

Clarissa – Part 6 The Coming Storm

She walked to the top of grassy hill and turned to face the city as the first glimmers of the rising sun caught the high clouds. A billion microscopic ice prisms created arcs of rainbow light in the brightening firmament. The public park rolled down towards the buildings, its green sward stopping abruptly at the foot of grey concrete boxes, edifices to the ascent of mankind from cave dweller to resident of an information world where we all build our own little caves in cyberspace.

They’re all children of Gibson and Berners Lee thought Clarissa. All safe and sound in their little boxes, and if that’s not safety enough they can slide into their newly created electronic worlds. Safe from who? Themselves mainly. There were few vampires in the world, The Others ensured that numbers were kept low so the herds of food animals, or humans as they themselves preferred to be known, didn’t notice, get restless and get wary. For the most part humans still died at the hands of humans. For the most part.

An hour before she had sought a meal, male, her preferred gender. It was probably the hormones in their blood, it gave her a rush over and above that inherent in feeding. The window had been open in the ground floor flat, the unmistakeable sound of a lone male snoring inviting her in. She was at his bedside before he’d woken, looking down at his toned, athletic form. She considered fucking him, beguiling him into a waking dream and feeling his rather beautiful cock inside her before she drank of him.

It wasn’t really an option. Although her lustful nature desired it her mind was preoccupied by the choice that had been laid before her by The Others. She leant forward as his eyes blinked open, grabbed his hair and pulled it backwards to expose his neck and in doing so felt his first and second cervical vertebrae crack.

“Damn” she though as his body went limp, his heart was still pumping but her lips pressed against his carotid artery could feel it beginning to fibrillate. She could still feed, but it lacked the excitement and satisfaction of having the blood course into her mouth as the prey’s heart beat its last. There was no thrashing of arms, no attempts to push her away, none of the excitement that normally accompanied a meal. After a few moments, nourished, but disappointed she let his limp body fall to the mattress and left his grey corpse to its final repose.

Minutes later, warmed and cheered by the ascending sun she was taken by surprise. It was a thought that took hold of her and held her in its unyielding grip. It at first disturbed, then terrified her. It was not her thought but the thought of another. It belonged to the man who, moments before she had left lifeless on his bed.

His name was, had been, Neil. She knew this as she knew her own name, as if it were her own name. Worse he had a girlfriend, Christine, he called her Chrissy, she hated to be called Christine, reminded her of her mother telling her off …

“Oh Fuck!” Clarissa stopped dead, horror painted across her face. Was this what Tim had meant that first night in the woods after the party? He’d said she was “different”, “special”, did he know how different? No he didn’t she decided, he had told her to stay close to him, so he “could help you discover yourself”. He had no more idea what she was becoming than Clarissa did herself and that meant she was on her own.

Being on her own had not concerned her so far, as a vampire or in her mortal existence, but that was before this had happened, before she was able to see her prey as anything other than a food source.

“You alright luv?”, asked the postman. Clarissa realised she had been standing, motionless and open-mouthed for several minutes contemplating this new twist to her evolving abilities.

“I think so …” her voice trailed off, mind still grappling with the concept of regaining a conscience and developing an empathy for the humans far deeper than anything a mortal could attain. The thoughts sped across her mind, each searing her consciousness … she would know every thought they had ever had … every feeling they had ever felt … know everything they knew.

Her sanity was balanced on the tip of a metaphorical pin, the overwhelming implications of her new found empathic abilities sweeping her into a black abyss. In she plunged, into a swirling, bottomless pool of oily black thoughts. It almost consumed her, dragging her down until only a tiny pinpoint of hope, like a star being obscured by storm clouds remained. Suddenly, like a diver shedding her weights she rushed upward breaking the surface of the pool of despair. She was reborn.

No regrets. No remorse. Answerable to no one. After all, if she could know the thoughts of every meal she took, every detail of their lives, every emotion … there was only one conclusion. Given that conclusion she was answerable to nobody.

After all who would question the actions of a goddess?

~~~

The day passed quickly. Clarissa slept for a few hours on bench in the park, not wanting to return to her flat. She wanted to move on now anyway, the landlord’s son had been so sweet, but he had started to smell a little and she regretted hiding his body in the back of her wardrobe …

She was disturbed around noon when a spotty youth wearing a baseball cap tried to snatch her handbag from her while she slept. She hand tried to explain that he ought to give it back but eventually had to resort to taking it from him. He ran off screaming, blood pouring from the stump where his right thumb used to be.

Around four she walked into the Pink Kitty, most famous, or perhaps infamous of the city’s lap dancing clubs.

~~~

Guido Henrnandez (or as his mother knew him Gary Hargreaves) trimmed up a fat, foul smelling Havana with his gold plated cigar clipper. He flipped the top of his Zippo “bling” and spun the wheel, puffing on the tobacco phallus until he was sure it was lit. The air around him became a toxic cloud while he poured over the previous night’s takings on his PC.

He knew at least one of the bar staff was skimming, he just had to find out who … then he’d have one of the doormen perform an “exit interview”. Guido retrieved a bottle of whisky and a glass from the bottom drawer of the filing cabinet.

“Do you have another glass?” Asked Clarissa.

“How the fuck did you get in here!” Guido was angry, his door staff were getting careless.

“They we’re a little distracted.” Replied Clarissa. In fact they simply hadn’t seen her, because she hadn’t wanted them to.

Guido looked her up and down. Her red hair was braided, hanging across her milky-white shoulders like silken ropes. She wore a white strapless top which displayed her firm breasts and hard nipples in a way that held his attention. Her skirt was white and short, hugging her hips, a gold rope belt accentuating her waist. To finish, white stilettos.

“I’m guessing you want a job?” He ventured. “Any experience?”

“No.”

“Then you’re pissing in the wind, I don’t take amateurs. Go away and get some experience, then come and see me in a few months.”

Clarissa shimmied to Guido’s side of the desk and turned his chair to face her. Guido had seen it all before, he just waited for the inevitable. Clarissa didn’t disappoint him, pulling down her top to expose her perfect breasts. She straddled him and pressed her chest into his face. Guido let himself go. After all, when he’d fucked her he could tell her he still wasn’t interested. And the security tape would make interesting viewing.

She could feel him becoming hard as she rubbed her exposed mons on his crotch. She thought he looked like a BJ kind of guy so slid off his lap and with his help slid his trousers to his knees. His penis required only a few strokes from her hand to reach full erection. Clarissa engulfed it, ignoring the stench of cigar smoke and expensive aftershave that made her feel like retching.

Guido lay back in his chair and enjoyed her performance. She was enthusiastic this one he thought to himself. Her tongue danced over his entire shaft, only stopping to allow her to take him completely into her throat, even then he could feel it rubbing the underside of his cock. She had his balls in her hand and gently twisted them in a way that he found unexpectedly arousing.

God she was good. As her head bobbed up and down in his lap he felt himself drifting and grasped the leather arms of the chair. The room began to blur around him, like a watercolour painting under a shower head, shapes running into one another. He could feel her nibbling him from his scrotum to frenulum. The fingers of her hand rubbed his moist glans sending shivers through his groin and across his skin.

His hips bucked involuntarily. Clarissa took this as her cue to complete the “interview”. She let him slide into her throat then grabbed his hands and placed them on either side of her head.

He got the message and forced her down onto his cock. He fucked her mouth, using her for his own gratification. He was impressed, most of the girls he interviewed would have been retching by now. Clarissa wasn’t most girls. She waited patient, groaning and gurgling in a manner calculated to encourage a speedy conclusion and was rewarded by the muscular contractions that signalled his climax.

“Aaaaah Fuck” moaned Guido, cumming deep in Clarissa’s throat. She waited for his paroxysm to subside and raised her head, smiling sweetly. Taking care to ensure a string of saliva and semen trailed from her mouth to the tip of his wet cock.

“So, am I hired?”

“Oh yes.” Leered Guido. “Pour yourself a drink.”