Tuesday, 29 April 2008

Under My Thumb

It's playing on the CD as she sits there, naked and cuffed to the chair.

'Under my thumb
The girl who once had me down
Under my thumb
The girl who once pushed me around'

He laughs proprietorially: 'Not any more though, eh...'

His hands rubbing ice around and across her breasts as he leans over her from behind. The medals on his white uniform, cold and hard, digging into her shoulders as his weight holds her shivering body down. Observing the pink nipples stiffen and protrude, the goosebumps erupting on her flesh.

'I think it applies, don't you?,' he breathes into her ear whilst his strong fingers squeeze the proffered buds and he starts to sing along.

'A siamese cat of a girl
Under my thumb
Shes the sweetest, hmmm, pet in the world'

The crisp fabric of that white uniform brushing her shoulder, medals scraping her cheek, whispering into her hair: 'her eyes are just kept to herself'.

He walks in front of her, straddling her lap, cock bulging through the tight white pants. Dragging her chin upwards with his fingers so that she cannot keep her gaze down, forcing her to look at the effect her predicament has had, despite his apparent indifference.

'I think I'd like to undo those cuffs and bend you over this chair and slide my fingers into your juicy cunt from behind. Unzip and hear you moan that you want me to take you.'

'You want me to ask for it? But surely you're in such a dominant position...?'

Mick Jagger answers the question for him:

'It's down to me, the way she talks when she's spoken to
Down to me, the change has come
She's under my thumb'

'You know I'm going to fuck you but you're going to beg me to hurt you. Plead with me to punish your cunt.'

'Ah, one of the 'c' words. Are you asking me to use that particular 'c' word?'

'Yes...use the fucking word. Prove you're my English bitch... my slut. Use it!'

She sighs resignedly and in her clipped British accent hisses:

'I need something in... my... cunt...'

It's not enough. He senses the latent defiance, releases one arm and drags her around the back of the chair, driving her head downwards with one hand as the other forces its way into her, spreading the fingers until she's gasping at the orgasm that rips through her.

Letting go of her head, he spanks his palm roughly and repeatedly across the exposed cheeks all the while singing along to the last vestiges of the song:

'She's under my thumb
Say, it's alright.

Take it easy babe
Take it easy babe
Feels alright
Take it, take it easy babe'

Her breath is coming in great sobbing gasps as his fingers drive deeper inside her. She can feel his cock throbbing through his trousers against the bare raw skin but for the misdemeanour he will most definitely make her wait. Make her beg.

He needs to hear her ask for it - in spite of herself... and they both know it. It is the culmination of their courting. The finale to their foreplay.

But it takes a while for her to recover from the assault to even be able to speak. The words come, slowly at first, but gathering momentum. Regaining her confidence:

'I want to just reverse back and impale myself on you. Bounce up and down on that big hard American cock. Own it. Right now it belongs to me. Mine. Every pulsating inch of it.'

It is more than enough to satisfy his pride. Dragging at his fly, spreading the lips of her cunt wide open and spearing into her, ploughing, pillaging, grunting.

'Tell me to fuck you harder. And then say it. Say the word... Come for me and say the word!'

His hands are on her hips, urgently yanking her down onto him. Piling into her harder and harder.

Her shrieks encourage him onwards: 'Fuck me, fuck me, hurt me! I am your whore... your bitch... all the things you have made me.'

And as her taut, quivering body clenches tightly around him, she screams it. The most important 'C' word. His name.

The acknowledgement of his possession via that single, longed for syllable drags out his semen in great shuddering spasms and just before he collapses onto her, she hears him whisper: 'My very own slut, the one I cherish.'

There it was, another 'c' word. Carefully chosen to avoid one more open to misinterpretation. To go with the many that already defined them.

He was the man who would force his way into her life and fuck her mind, before reclaiming their connection in a conflagration of all-consuming, commitment-free passion and then disappear again just as suddenly.

He confused the hell out of her.

And that seemed to be just how he liked it...

Sugasm #129

The best of this week’s blogs by the bloggers who blog them. Highlighting the top 3 posts as chosen by Sugasm participants. Want in Sugasm #130? Submit a link to your best post of the week using this form. Participants, repost the link list within a week and you’re all set.

This Week’s Picks

April Showers Bring May Flowers: Part II “As mentioned earlier, this is one of the biggest hurdles to overcome; this is also where mind over matter comes into play.”

Au revoir “In the life of an eclectic slut, however, these are all warning signs.”

Ode to Anal: Why? “Really, for me, it was the first, and one of my foremost, all encompassing sexual acts.”

Mr. Sugasm Himself Soviet Erotica

Editor’s Choice Catalina loves Real Women

More Sugasm

Join the Sugasm

See also: Fleshbot’s Sex Blog Roundup each Tuesday and Friday.

Sunday, 27 April 2008

Thursday, 24 April 2008

HNT - Curve


Ruf's fave from the Birthday set...

He likes the way that pose accentuates the hourglass curve from my hip into my waist and back out to my shoulder.

I love having him photograph me. Adore the enthusiasm with which he approaches the duty, knowing that his handiwork will be viewed by my Reader. He makes me feel beautiful and, ipso facto, I become gorgeous - in my mind and in my manner.

And there is nothing more stimulating than watching the effect of that beauty on your naked photographer. Having him set your limbs to the desired position to acquire the most flattering shot. Feel the admiring caress of his hands upon your skin and become aware of the growing dampness of the scrap of cloth covering his eventual goal.

It was not long after this one was taken that he removed all the lingerie and did what needed to be done to achieve the first of several Birthday orgasms.

Happy HNT x


Wednesday, 23 April 2008

Tagged - What are you reading?

Both the Fat Controller and Magnus have tagged me.

The rules:
1. Pick up the nearest book.
2. Open to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the next three sentences.
5. Tag five people

I'm actually reading two books at the moment - one practical - Geoff Thompson's 'Dead or Alive' - and one to escape - Cynthia Harrod Eagles' 'The Burning Roses'. Wonder if you can guess which book was closest...

This hip movement will ensure maximum weight transference into the punch.
With the palm heel the foregoing criteria is the same using the heel of the hand to attack as opposed to the fist.

Left uppercut/palm heel thrown from the leading left leg and aimed, ultimately, at the jaw.

So, I will tag:

Mr October
Lazy Phil

Tuesday, 22 April 2008


She was on her knees rummaging through a pile of magazines when he came out of the bathroom and noticed her. The noise of the party below them obscured the sound of his approach and she was so engrossed in her task that she visibly started as he noisily pulled the swivel chair from under the desk and fell into it.

He looked down at her, mouth slightly open to catch her breath and hands pressed against her chest, trying to still her heart. Then she giggled and he was lost all over again.

Indicating the glossy periodicals around her, she explained that she was looking for a specific article and had been told it was in one of the back issues in the study.

From his superior position on the chair, she caught him sneaking surreptitious glances down the 'V' of her little black dress to the exposed cleavage and they both jumped when the mobile she had tucked there for safe keeping buzzed the arrival of a text.

He hurriedly looked away as she checked the message and replaced the device in its secure position.

It was then that she noticed the other heap of publications right at the back under the desk and now exposed by the removal of the swivel chair.

Without a second thought she moved forward on her hands and knees to retrieve them whilst he settled back into the chair and surveyed the scene before him.

One splendid arse stuck up in the air. The thin black material barely concealing the faint disturbance caused by the tiny thong underneath and clearly defining two peachy butt cheeks. His eyes followed the line down each slender thigh to the lacy top of black stockings, completed by black stiletto heels. It was impossible not to be affected by this most unexpected and pleasant turn of events.

With her head stuck under the desk, she suddenly became aware of her rather delicate position and that's when the devil got into her... joining the glass or two of alcohol consumed prior to the commencement of her search. The resultant intoxicating mix pervaded all her senses making her acutely conscious of the possibilities of the situation and reminding her quite forcefully of her long-standing attraction to the man himself.

She could feel his eyes boring into the fabric covering her pert behind and, almost involuntarily, she wriggled it. Just to ensure that she had his full attention. An assumption which was confirmed by the ensuing sharp intake of breath from a few feet behind her.

With the slightest of movements, she subtly altered the angle of her back, pushing the bottom further into the air and exposing the thin sliver of white skin above the lace of each stocking top. Daring him to take his courage in both hands and follow the direction of every cell in his body.

The give-away creak of the swivel chair as he shifted his position presaged the light touch of his finger as it followed the path his eyes had already taken. Trailing softly over the black fabric and down one thigh before petering out in a moment of indecision...

She did nothing, just maintained her position but her mind was pleading with him, begging him to extend those fingers further.

The change of temperature as they lifted the hem of the dress and folded it back on itself sent goosebumps chasing up her spine.

His face was so close to her exposed bottom, she could feel his breath against the coolness of her skin. She knew he was taking in the black satin Y of the thong where it cupped the base of her spine before disappearing between her buttocks. The roundness of those white cheeks, the little black scrap of fabric where it reappeared covering the most secret of places. She widened the position of her knees spreading herself, tempting him, testing him.

Both of them holding their breath and waiting... wondering if he would dare.

As she prayed for him to be bold, she could feel the moistening heat throbbing against the cotton covering. Her lust was screaming at him, desperately trying to communicate its need and she knew that he could hear her. Knew that he too was experiencing the potent effect of that urgent desire.

Despite himself and, against every good judgement in his body, he watched his hand stretch out in front of him...

... there was a bang and the sounds of the party preceded footsteps on the stairs. His wife's voice calling out to someone.

He gently replaced the frock and she rolled out from under the desk, sitting back against the wall as he regained his position in the chair.

At the top of the stairs, his spouse stopped and took in the scene. The strewn magazines, their relaxed posture and smiled. 'Bloody martial arts,' she laughed as she disappeared into the bathroom.

And that's when he stood up and took the photograph...

...before retreating to the safety of the party below whilst she continued perusing the magazines.

Sugasm #128

With thanks to everyone who voted x

The best of this week’s blogs by the bloggers who blog them. Highlighting the top 3 posts as chosen by Sugasm participants. Want in Sugasm #129? Submit a link to your best post of the week using this form. Participants, repost the link list within a week and you’re all set.

This Week’s Picks

Fellatrices: C-u-n-n-i-l-i-n-g-u-s “Yep, sounds like the boyfriend needs a lesson,” she affirmed. “You just need to show him where to lick.”

In Plain Sight “She was laughing flirtatiously and he had a look of a cat that’s about to get the cream.”

Succor. “The act of suspension removed me from my ego and placed me at the still point.”

Mr. Sugasm Himself (one from the vaults) Ten Things to Thank Porn For

Editor’s Choice Half-Nekkid Thursday: My Hustler Debut

More Sugasm

Join the Sugasm

See also: Fleshbot’s Sex Blog Roundup each Tuesday and Friday.

Monday, 21 April 2008

Mute Monday - Poetry

(who told lies and was burned to death)

by Hilaire Belloc (1870-1953)
(Illustration by Edward Lear)

Matilda told such Dreadful Lies,
It made one Gasp and Stretch one's Eyes;
Her Aunt, who, from her Earliest Youth,
Had kept a Strict Regard for Truth,

Attempted to Believe Matilda:
The effort very nearly killed her,
And would have done so, had not She
Discovered this Infirmity.
For once, towards the Close of Day,
Matilda, growing tired of play,

And finding she was left alone
Went tiptoe to the Telephone
And summoned the Immediate Aid
Of London's Noble Fire-Brigade,
Within an hour the Gallant Band
Were pouring in on every hand,
From Putney, Hackney Downs and Bow,
With Courage high and Hearts a-glow
They galloped, roaring through the Town,

'Matilda's House is Burning Down!'
Inspired by British Cheers and Loud
Proceeding from the Frenzied Crowd,
They ran their ladders through a score
Of windows on the Ball Room Floor;
And took Peculiar Pains to Souse
The Pictures up and down the House,

Until Matilda's Aunt succeeded
In showing them they were not needed
And even then she had to pay
To get the Men to go away!

. . . . . . . .

It happened that a few Weeks later
Her Aunt was off to the Theatre
To see that Interesting Play

The Second Mrs Tanqueray.
She had refused to take her Niece
To hear this Entertaining Piece:
A Deprivation Just and Wise
To Punish her for Telling Lies.
That Night a Fire did break out -
You should have heard Matilda Shout!
You should have heard her Scream and Bawl,

And throw the window up and call
To People passing in the Street -
(The rapidly increasing Heat
Encouraging her to obtain
Their confidence) - but all in vain!
For every time She shouted 'Fire!'
They only answered 'Little Liar!'
And therefore when her Aunt returned,

Matilda, and the House, were Burned.

Ode to Ruf

Subordinate, Me



Sunday, 20 April 2008


I was reading Marcelle's piece on Golden Showers recently.

It reminded me of the time Ruf and I decided to try out that particular fantasy. I mean, it seemed harmless enough. He stood over me and started a little golden dribble. He had promised he would start with a few drips onto my body - just so I could see what it was like. Nothing too fetishist and it seemed to fit in with the whole D/s road upon which we had made our first tentative steps.

The drops landed, warm and wet, upon my belly and it didn't seem too unpleasant so I let him continue. Unfortunately, neither of us had really thought this through properly, for the few drips became a puddle which quickly spread over my very small midriff until there was nowhere else to go but down... over the sides... onto the bed. And, of course, once started, the trickle gradually became a torrent that spattered onto the already overflowing pool and ricocheted spray even further beyond.

Ruf carried on regardless. I am advised it is rather difficult to stop mid-pee - although it is something all you guys should be working on as it exercises those important muscles that assist with the longevity of erections - but the pitter-patter of liquid splashing onto the sheet beside me succeeded in suppressing all my lustful urges and replaced them with 'mother' instincts. My concerned protestations didn't seem to bother Ruf at all until I leapt up off the bed yelling and pushed him in the direction of the bathroom.

I have done enough bedtime lifting and potty training in my lifetime that I am not unfamiliar with all the problems related thereto. All I could think of was the mattress and the smell of stale urine that was going to be with us for some time if we didn't do something about it promptly.

Dragging off the sheet and soaking up the splatters as best I could, I called for disinfectant and spent the next 20 minutes cleaning the mattress and then drying it with my hairdryer.

Needless to say, we have now invested in a waterproof mattress protector - just in case our desires take us in that direction in the future. Personally, I think if it's going to be used in a D/s way, the jet really needs to go somewhere much more debasing than my belly and I'm not sure I'm quite ready to be that demeaned.

Having recounted a much shorter version of this story in the comments box on Marcelle's piece, I pressed the submit button and was faced with the word verification screen.

I kid you not, the required letters were:


Is it me or does everyone else hate having to type in those sets of letters to verify my existence?

On some other blogs there is a simple maths problem like 3+65 to which you have to supply the answer. It's not Countdown, but I far prefer to do that than type in interminable combinations of vowels and consonants. Except when I misunderstand the instructions and get the answer wrong. The resulting message of disappointment at the failure of my mathematical skills can be most depressing.

Thursday, 17 April 2008

HNT - All About Me


Continuing this week's theme...


Tuesday, 15 April 2008

In Plain Sight

Sugasm #128
Chosen by Sexoteric

I watched them in the car park, embracing on the tailgate of her car. At least I believe it was her car because she had the keys and seemed to be organising the loading of the bags.

He was standing close behind her, admiring the curve of her bottom through their thin cotton combat covering.

When she turned around, he lifted her onto the tailgate and insinuated himself between her legs.

I could see the muscles in his buttocks clenching as he pushed himself closer and closer.

Her giggle rippled across the tarmac between us. It was what had drawn my attention to them in the first place. That and the fact that the place was virtually empty.

Everyone was in shock. England had been playing Portugal in the World Cup and had just been knocked out. In the air-conditioned sports centre, despite - or perhaps because of - the warmth of the evening, the spectators remained inside drowning their sorrows… except for these two.

I was kicking a football about on my own when I noticed them, heads close together as they talked and walked. She was laughing flirtatiously and he had a look of a cat that's about to get the cream. One arm wrapped around each other’s waist, the other holding a sports bag each. Their body language declaring to the world the intimacy of their connection.

Back at the car, he was kissing her as she sat on the lowered boot of her big off-roader, her knees straddling his thighs, his hands tousling her hair and his tongue exploring her mouth.

I went back to dribbling my ball but I was fascinated by them. The way they were now holding each other: the urgency of his embrace and the persuasive quality of his voice; the postponing nature of her body language, symptomatic of a half-hearted unwillingness to accede to his wishes.

He was clearly trying to induce her to do something of which she was very uncertain. And she was holding him off. For a while. It wasn't long before I watched them as he led her reluctantly across the hot grey surface and into the bushes, her eyes nervously scanning the vicinity, his determinedly focussed on the most protective greenery and accompanied by an almost triumphant grin.

As they entered the foliage, his arms went around her and their lips met. I was suddenly educated in the purpose of kissing as I watched her body language change completely. Beneath the power and the purpose of his lips, her posture visibly softened and relaxed as she submitted to his will.

My original supposition was correct: this was not just a quick up-against-a-tree fumble between two half-strangers. These two were clearly very familiar with each other and this was a fantasy that they had talked about fulfilling.

Naturally, I couldn't help myself. I followed them in... maintaining a discreet distance... a little further along the line of bushes and shrubs that separated the leisure centre car park from the gardens of the neighbouring row of suburban houses.

His hands were all over her, freeing her breasts from the restraint of the bra, I could see her nipples, pink and hardening against the generous white orbs. His fingers pinching and tweaking as her groin writhed against his.

One hand undoing the buttons of her combats and pushing its way into her pants, fumbling and wriggling against the material as it achieved its goal. The unwanted fabric fluttering down her slender thighs, to be followed by the scrap of thong. His wrist trapped between the tops of her legs as she moaned and shuddered against him.

As I stared open-mouthed, she turned carefully around, avoiding the nettles and offered herself. Using the fence at the back to support herself as she bent forward. Ignoring the leafy tendrils entwining themselves in her hair and the twigs scratching at her body. Her mouth a round O as he pushed into her. Their breathing increasing with the effort of giving and receiving. His fingers over her mouth to stifle any possibility of a scream.

When the lawnmower in the neighbouring garden suddenly fired into life, we all started. My vantage point was completely hidden from its operator by the ivy covering the fence but she was horribly exposed. Her fingers gripping the mesh beneath them, knuckles white with the pressure. Her eyes opened and she could see the man with the mower. He had only to turn his head and she would be caught. As I watched, her arms lengthened, subtly moving her body further into the shadows, but not totally. It was almost as if she didn't care. As if she wanted to be seen.

Her head moved suddenly, staring intently in my direction. Had she glimpsed the slight movement, heard the brief rustle of the leaves around my hiding place in response to the motor's noise?

In my mind, I started to believe that she knew that I was there. Was performing for me. Playing for my viewing pleasure. The hardness in my groin was too much. Touching through the fabric of my jeans was no longer enough and I unzipped and unleashed myself. The skin of my hand cool against the heat of the erect flesh.

I was reminded of my younger self, aroused by some picture in a magazine or a video online, wanking into the foam grip of my spare bike handle. Soft, blissful, mess-free friction.

But this was nothing like the porn movies Id watched on my computer. This was a real live peep show revealed to me through the shadows of the soft green leafy curtain. No doe-eyed, painted girl with not a hair out of place, squealing and 'ahhhing' for the benefit of the camera. This was a real woman being given the attention she craved... and allowing me to watch.

They could have been old enough to be my parents and I should have been revolted... disgusted even... but I couldn't help myself. Having been accorded the privilege of an audience, I was mesmerised. And she looked nothing like my own mother.

My fantasy said that she would want me to join in - two comes for the price of one so to speak - and with that permission, my hand started to move gently up and down the exposed length. Synching my timing to the rhythm of the man's thrusts.

Closing my eyes and imagining that the soft panting exhalations of her breath were in response to my attentions, that my palms were caressing her white flesh instead of my own red skin. My very own Mrs. Robinson.

I heard him groan as he emptied himself into her and I watched mine shoot onto the tangled stems, catching the skeins of a spiders web and leaving globules, thick and white, spattered against the filmy threads with the remnants dripping downwards.

Three sets of hurried breathing gradually returned to normal, before male clothes were regained and refastened. And then he carefully redressed her, smoothing her hair and stroking her cheek, just as I would like to have done, before leading her back into the bright sunlight and ambling nonchalantly back across the car park to her vehicle.

They kissed once more and drove away, leaving me elated... and regretful.

Sugasm #127

The best of this week’s blogs by the bloggers who blog them. Highlighting the top 3 posts as chosen by Sugasm participants. Want in Sugasm #128? Submit a link to your best post of the week using this form. Participants, repost the link list within a week and you’re all set.

This Week’s Picks

My life as a Female “His reply was instant: “You are a man”.”

Crisp “I found my eyes unable to leave the curves of her ass, everything else out of focus.”

Ripping yourself a new one “What’s the most ludicrous porn scene you ever saw?”

Mr. Sugasm Himself (one from the vaults) How to Choose an Affiliate Program

Editor’s Choice Cream and Sugar

More Sugasm

Join the Sugasm

See also: Fleshbot’s Sex Blog Roundup each Tuesday and Friday.

Sunday, 13 April 2008

Friday, 11 April 2008

Isabella's Sex Meme

This is Isabella's Sex Meme. Anyone is welcome to steal it but you must post this rules blurb at the beginning of the meme:
1. You must include this link to Sex Talk - Sex Advice for Men.
2. You must answer every question! If you don't have a good answer, you are strongly encouraged to make up something good; we like to be entertained.
3. You must tag three people.

1. Sex in the Morning or Sex at Night

Well, preferably, morning, noon and night actually. Although I have to admit to being particularly randy first thing in the morning when it's all warm and snugly and you know you don't have to get up for a while.

2. Better Sex Music - Sade or Marvin Gaye

Ooooh, Sade. Your Love is King, Smooth Operator, And I Miss You... all great when it's getting passionate, up close and personal. That was one of the things Ruf and I agreed on before we ever got within spitting distance of a sofa. But then he was given a box set of Motown Classics and so it's definitely Marvin, et al, to get you in the mood when the initial seduction is taking place.

3. Naughty Pics or Naughty Home Videos?

When you're involved in a long-distance relationship, it's gotta be both! From the very early days, we used to exchange intimate pictures and videos. Sometimes it was the only way to achieve some form of satisfaction during a time when the lust was just so pent up and frustrating. I can remember when Ruf went abroad for a seminar. It transpired that he was sharing a room with a very senior member of staff and I sent him a phone video where I was using a piece of equipment for a very innovative purpose. 10 seconds of total self-pleasure, complete with the accompanying appreciative noises. The poor man had to go and find somewhere private to wank in peace!

He is responsible for all the pictures that appear on my blog and loves to be behind the camera - be it for stills or videos. And it's always fun watching your own home-made porn movie. He has been warned that if I ever see them on YouTube, there is going to be big trouble.

4. Fabulous Sex With: Dr Doug Ross or Dr Greg House?

Give me George Clooney every time. Ruf is a combination of George and Russell Crowe. Mind you, I guess that certain irascible charm is prevalent in both Russell Crowe and Dr House so I certainly wouldn't turn him down.

5. Vibrator or Dildo?

Why do you keep making me have to choose? Surely, there's definitely a case for both here too! There's more than one hole for goodness sake! And, obviously, I'd have to have my tulip on as well. I am the consummate gadget princess :)

6. Bedroom Sex: Lights Off or Lights On?

How about Lights Low? So we can see what we're getting to grips with rather than the two extremes of fumbling about in the dark or, in Ruf's case, suffering from snow blindness with the fluorescent light reflecting off my luminous white skin!

7. Word Preference: Pussy or Cunt?

Being quite a posh bird, I've discovered that men find it quite irresistible if you say cunt...

8. Spanking Over the Knee or Spanking Only During Sex?

Ruf knows all about power generation. If he spanks me with his hand just for the fun of it, the pain is excruciating. When we first got the paddles, I hated them. I just don't like being put over his knee and spanked cold. However, recently, I have discovered that if he talks to me about what he is going to do and then allows me to use my tulip, he can hit me with the paddle as hard as he likes and as often as he likes and it only adds to my state of arousal and eventual orgasm. If he penetrates me at the same time, I am beside myself. I have even been heard muttering about canes recently... I have soooo been corrupted by BlogLand!

9. More Exciting: Sex in an Elevator or Sex in an Aeroplane?

Well, I've never had either but I certainly have fantasies about both. I shall peruse these subjects in a literary manner over the coming weeks and let you have the answer as to which I preferred when I'm done.

10. Ron Jeremy or Peter North?

Hmmm. I've led a sheltered life in terms of porn. I had to look up Peter North. The only reason I knew of Ron Jeremy was because in a film about Annabelle Chong, he was the guy who could give her 3 on 1 sex so she had one cock in one hole and two in another. He said he'd made a fortune out of having a long, thin dick as I recall. Probably the answer is neither! Peter North certainly looks prettier in his publicity shots but I think I'd rather see pictures of them both in their prime before making a fair assessment... but do you mean appearance or performance?

11. Word Preference? Cock or dick?

Cock. Dick is too reminiscent of dickhead.

12. Linda Lovelace or Jenna Jameson?

Never heard of Jenna Jameson either. Linda Lovelace gave us the concept of Deepthroat. Perhaps she should get my vote just in gratitude. From her website, Jenna is very pretty but then she has the aid of airbrushing and probably silicon. So, yes Linda.

13. Rope Bondage or Bondage Tape?

I liked the latex-free bondage tape we got from LoveHoney. Rope tends to burn and leave more marks and requires a working knowledge of knots for some of the more complicated restraining combinations.

14. Give Rim Job or Receive Anal Sex?

It depends on how I'm feeling. Personally, I think the former is probably the most intimate thing you can do for a guy and you have to be pretty close, both mentally and physically, to even consider wanting to do it. However, it's all about how it makes him feel too and can be incredibly erotic. But, at the end of the day, I'm a bit of an arse whore I guess and, as Ruf repeatedly tells me, it's my job to receive, so I would choose the latter.

15. Get Rich Stripping in a Skanky Bar or Get Rich as a Call Girl for Celebs?

Now this one gets me thinking. I'm not really much of a dancer and I'm not sure I have the flexibility required for the pole but I do like taking my clothes off. And the idea of having someone pay me for sex is somehow intrinsically abhorrent to me because I like to think that I do my best work for love.

16. Which Threesome - Boy/Girl/Girl or Boy/Boy/Girl?

Well, definitely a B/B/G with me in the middle. But I will consider a B/G/G to please Ruf if I can find a woman that I felt that way about.

17. Flavoured Oil or Tingling Oil?

Tingling... unless the flavoured actually tastes better than some of the synthetic stuff which makes me go 'phut, phut, phut' in disgust.

18. Pearl Necklace or Swallow?

Depends on the circumstances again. I love to swallow Ruf's spunk. It tastes nice because he is a vegan and drinks lots of pineapple juice prior to my visits. But I also like to be the Milky Princess sometimes. Perhaps the best option is to let him shoot it onto me and then suck out the remnants. He seems to enjoy that best...

19. Sex While Strangers Watch or Sex With a Stranger?

I definitely enjoy the whole voyeur aspect of having strangers watch and part of me likes the idea of sex with a stranger too. But the problem with the latter is all the practicalities. In my fantasies, it works fine but for real life, I think I'd need an awful lot of brandy to override all my natural caution. So I'd rather let people I didn't know watch me do my best work with a man I adore. Safe from the nastiness of the risks of reality.

20. Tied to the Bed or to a St Andrew's Cross?

Jeez, Isa, I'm Welsh!!!! Of course it has to be to the bed. Or any other piece of furniture that comes to hand.

People I'm going to tag: Akrazael, BendyGirl and Marianne

Thursday, 10 April 2008

Birthday HNT

When I first started playing with HNT and allowing the initials to stand for other things, I didn't realise there was a whole community of people who regularly expose themselves in various clever ways on a Thursday. I'm not sure I will be joining them regularly but, from time to time, Ruf takes a photograph which I am happy to share.


These are two of the pictures that Ruf took on my birthday. A day that took me much closer to 50 than 40. So, to prove that I'm very happy with the advancing years...



With thanks to Dee for some selection assistance x

Wednesday, 9 April 2008

Sugasm #126

The best of this week’s blogs by the bloggers who blog them. Highlighting the top 3 posts as chosen by Sugasm participants. Want in Sugasm #127? Submit a link to your best post of the week using this form. Participants, repost the link list within a week and you’re all set.

This Week’s Picks

Up Your Bum “Now, every mainstream porn film seems to include anal sex as part of the sequence”

A Moment Captured “Right now I am looking out down at the street from my window and my fingers have found their way to my soft wet labia.”

Things Every Man Should Own/Know/Hear “You can also give the controller to her, or use it yourself, and play with the power of the vibrations.”

Mr. Sugasm Himself (one from the vaults) The New York Times’ Best Porn Articles

Editor’s Choice Feminist Carnival of Sexual Freedom and Autonomy #1

More Sugasm

Join the Sugasm

See also: Fleshbot’s Sex Blog Roundup each Tuesday and Friday.

Statcounter Haiku*

The Statcounter grows
It's validating my prose
What worth? Well, who knows...

I had such fun last week. My inclusion as 'the Button' over at The Kristen Diaries meant that I had a whole lot of new friends come and take a look at my writing.

For someone with an ego so fragile and in need of personal validation, it was like balm to my spirit.

I had set a target of 100,000 visitors by the time my first BlogDay comes around in June and the Kristen influx took me over that well before that time - for which I thank each and every one of you.

But am I happy?

Well, I was for a few days... but once the Statcounter showed 125,000, then I started thinking about 200,000 by my BlogDay.

I'm not sure this is good for me. It makes me even more needy.

I may have to remove the Statcounter for my own good.

*Haikus are poems that contain 5 syllables in the first and third line and 7 in the second line. I'm not sure if they're supposed to rhyme. But I prefer poetry that way.

Monday, 7 April 2008

Mute Monday - Power or Powers

From the Troll Report

If anyone can tell me how to link the Mute Monday button to the Troll Report, I would be very grateful.