Wednesday, April 16
Friday, April 11
Butt Poll
The recent poll;
How do you feel about anal sex on a scale of 1 -5, (five being Awesome, I’ll take it up the arse every time thanks!) had 11 voters.
5 3 (27%)
4 7 (63%)
3 0 (0%)
2 0 (0%)
1 1 (9%)
It appears that my visitors like it up the butt.
How do you feel about anal sex on a scale of 1 -5, (five being Awesome, I’ll take it up the arse every time thanks!) had 11 voters.
5 3 (27%)
4 7 (63%)
3 0 (0%)
2 0 (0%)
1 1 (9%)
It appears that my visitors like it up the butt.
Wednesday, April 9
Extract of Something I Wrote
He heard a metallic sound to his right, the direction of the telly table. Then it was closer, right next to his ear, a swooshing sound of metal on metal followed by a click. In his other ear her voice whispered, ‘Can you tell what it is yet?’
Despite his mind being somewhat zoned out, he concentrated on the sound, swoosh click, swoosh click. His blood ran cold.
'Scissors, Your Shininess.’ It wasn’t a question. He knew the answer.
‘Good boy.’
Having removed her shoes she was quick to move, silently around him until she was able to place the tip of blunted surgical scissors just above his belly button. Of course to him, it would feel sharp and dangerous, she saw his cock twitch under its clear prison.
Despite his mind being somewhat zoned out, he concentrated on the sound, swoosh click, swoosh click. His blood ran cold.
'Scissors, Your Shininess.’ It wasn’t a question. He knew the answer.
‘Good boy.’
Having removed her shoes she was quick to move, silently around him until she was able to place the tip of blunted surgical scissors just above his belly button. Of course to him, it would feel sharp and dangerous, she saw his cock twitch under its clear prison.
Daily Bondage
It’s the time of the year where I have to subject my feet to daily bondage.
The cloud cover is almost constant with the threat of rain, if it’s not actually raining, and the closed in shoes have been dusted off and polished.
I wore my Buffy Boots they yesterday, they are actually called that by the shop I got them from because they look like the boots Buffy wears in the telly show, black leather ankle boots with a one and half inch heel. It was raining and I now have a walk to the station so I need to keep my feet dry and warm. By the time I got home last night, my toes were screaming, I could just about hear them over the torrent of abuse my heels where throwing at me.
I have no broken skin, but it doesn’t look happy, in fact down right angry would be correct.
By the end of the season the skin will have toughened up again and be content to be covered, but when the thongs come out again you’ll hear the cheers of joy wherever you are in the world.
The cloud cover is almost constant with the threat of rain, if it’s not actually raining, and the closed in shoes have been dusted off and polished.
I wore my Buffy Boots they yesterday, they are actually called that by the shop I got them from because they look like the boots Buffy wears in the telly show, black leather ankle boots with a one and half inch heel. It was raining and I now have a walk to the station so I need to keep my feet dry and warm. By the time I got home last night, my toes were screaming, I could just about hear them over the torrent of abuse my heels where throwing at me.
I have no broken skin, but it doesn’t look happy, in fact down right angry would be correct.
By the end of the season the skin will have toughened up again and be content to be covered, but when the thongs come out again you’ll hear the cheers of joy wherever you are in the world.
Labels:
All About Me,
Feet,
Not Such Nice Pain,
Shoes
Tuesday, April 8
Feelings Schmellings!
I know I’m not unique in the confusion I’m feeling about Rubbermaid. People around the world are feeling similar things in similar situations, but I have to say this feeling is new to me. I don’t think I’ve ever been this confused.
Ok, so for the last twelve odd years I’ve been pretty sure about my feelings towards my partner, first there was deep love, then frustration, then briefly intense dislike, then respect, then a love that nothing will ever surpass, the love of family. Then finally came the feeling that if I didn’t get out of there, there was going to be headlines. Through all that, I still love him and would never want hurt to come to him.
Now, nine months after my separation, I’m into new feelings, or feelings I haven’t experienced for such a long time, I’ve forgotten them.
I don’t love Rubbermaid. I like him. I enjoy spending time with him; despite the confusion he causes my brain. But, do I enjoy his company because it’s just that, company?
Would I miss him if he was gone or would I just move on to the next one? I think I would miss him, even though he’s only been in my life about eight weeks, he feels somehow familiar regardless of the fact I know very little about him (he’s not a big talker). Having said that, I would move on, no tears shed.
Tonight however, I’m putting myself through something perilous. In fact I think a full Brazilian (even that little bit right at the front, just above your clit) would be less painful than what I am to experience tonight; I’m going to dinner with him, his neighbours (who he’s known for five years), his flatmate (whom I suspect is much more invested in the relationship than him) and his ex-girlfriend (who got in contact with him again a couple of weeks ago after she dumped him 6 months ago). To top it off, due to another longstanding commitment, I’ll be arriving last.
Right now I feeling, anxious, nervous and like I’ve gone completely insane and that I should call him to say I can’t make it.
Or maybe I should take my toothbrush?
Update 9-4-08 1147am : It was OK. The neighbours were nice and cat mad. The flatmate was welcoming but bossy and the ex was a whiney sloth who got the hump with me even though I said very little and left after I’d been there 45 minutes.
All is well with the world
Ok, so for the last twelve odd years I’ve been pretty sure about my feelings towards my partner, first there was deep love, then frustration, then briefly intense dislike, then respect, then a love that nothing will ever surpass, the love of family. Then finally came the feeling that if I didn’t get out of there, there was going to be headlines. Through all that, I still love him and would never want hurt to come to him.
Now, nine months after my separation, I’m into new feelings, or feelings I haven’t experienced for such a long time, I’ve forgotten them.
I don’t love Rubbermaid. I like him. I enjoy spending time with him; despite the confusion he causes my brain. But, do I enjoy his company because it’s just that, company?
Would I miss him if he was gone or would I just move on to the next one? I think I would miss him, even though he’s only been in my life about eight weeks, he feels somehow familiar regardless of the fact I know very little about him (he’s not a big talker). Having said that, I would move on, no tears shed.
Tonight however, I’m putting myself through something perilous. In fact I think a full Brazilian (even that little bit right at the front, just above your clit) would be less painful than what I am to experience tonight; I’m going to dinner with him, his neighbours (who he’s known for five years), his flatmate (whom I suspect is much more invested in the relationship than him) and his ex-girlfriend (who got in contact with him again a couple of weeks ago after she dumped him 6 months ago). To top it off, due to another longstanding commitment, I’ll be arriving last.
Right now I feeling, anxious, nervous and like I’ve gone completely insane and that I should call him to say I can’t make it.
Or maybe I should take my toothbrush?
Update 9-4-08 1147am : It was OK. The neighbours were nice and cat mad. The flatmate was welcoming but bossy and the ex was a whiney sloth who got the hump with me even though I said very little and left after I’d been there 45 minutes.
All is well with the world
Friday, April 4
Tap Lovin'
I was lying in my new bath the other night having tipped in far too much bubble bath when I was struck by an idea.
I could practice my foot job technique on the water spout.
I could practice my foot job technique on the water spout.
Nookyfest 2008
According to my Doctor I have to lay off the having of fun. I have a delightful little infection that is called Honeymoon Cystitis and it is very common amongst ladies who have never had nooky or haven’t have it in a long time. I fit into the latter category.
It’s not a sexually transmitted disease (but while I was there and had my pants round my ankles, she said she may as well test for everything that is) but a condition that is caused by simply having too much sex of the hard kind that may or may not involve elements of arse play.
This is something that had never entered my mind. I’m always careful, condoms, dental dams, gloves. You know, all the things that protect you from stray bacteria and virus, but can cause raised eyebrows if whipped out before being discussed. It never occurred to me that you could get a nasty from simply have too much sex and not peeing straight afterwards. This is the first time I’ve had anything like this, it’s kind of embarrassing
So there I am, a not inexperienced woman watching a Doctor draw a little cross section diagram of where all my ‘lady bits’* are and being told how easy it is ‘for germs to pass from the back fun area to the front fun area’*. Not that that is a problem according to the Doc, but when those germs come into contact with the ‘pee hole’* that’s when the problems start. 'Always leave the back fun 'til last.'*
‘Those little buggers love the urethra and work themselves into a frenzy until you are every time you pee.’*
It’s so simple really and a course of antibiotics ‘clear it right up and have you back in the saddle in no time, so to speak’*.
* Doctors actual words, I sh*t you not!
UPDATE 1934 11-8-08 : I was given the all clear by the doctor yesterday, no trace of UTI or anything lese that is nasty and catching.
It’s not a sexually transmitted disease (but while I was there and had my pants round my ankles, she said she may as well test for everything that is) but a condition that is caused by simply having too much sex of the hard kind that may or may not involve elements of arse play.
This is something that had never entered my mind. I’m always careful, condoms, dental dams, gloves. You know, all the things that protect you from stray bacteria and virus, but can cause raised eyebrows if whipped out before being discussed. It never occurred to me that you could get a nasty from simply have too much sex and not peeing straight afterwards. This is the first time I’ve had anything like this, it’s kind of embarrassing
So there I am, a not inexperienced woman watching a Doctor draw a little cross section diagram of where all my ‘lady bits’* are and being told how easy it is ‘for germs to pass from the back fun area to the front fun area’*. Not that that is a problem according to the Doc, but when those germs come into contact with the ‘pee hole’* that’s when the problems start. 'Always leave the back fun 'til last.'*
‘Those little buggers love the urethra and work themselves into a frenzy until you are every time you pee.’*
It’s so simple really and a course of antibiotics ‘clear it right up and have you back in the saddle in no time, so to speak’*.
* Doctors actual words, I sh*t you not!
UPDATE 1934 11-8-08 : I was given the all clear by the doctor yesterday, no trace of UTI or anything lese that is nasty and catching.
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