my mind is a bitch

Remember last night? Remember me posting about Jason not having The Six Pack anymore? Having a little more meat on his bones? That was fun, wasn’t it?

Now, I’d still do him in a heartbeat. I don’t mind if there’s a little more of him. Not at all. More for me to love.

But my mind. Oh, my mind. My stupid mind has been keeping me up all frigging night with repeated choruses of “He’s faaaaaaaaaat, he’s faaaaaaaaat!”

He’s NOT fat. Judge for yourself.

By the way, those trunks: awesome.

I’m sad, can you tell? But I would never want another man. Never. I can’t even pretend to like men like Adrien Brody. (Although, I did go through a MASSIVE A-Brody phase, which I will never mention ever again, because yes, it was that embarrassing).

I like him like this. And he can always get his abs back. For a new part or something. I’ll learn to love this.

Guess what I have standing in the oven right now? That’s right bitches, fresh croissants! Well, not entirely fresh. Bought at Lidl. Ready made. Only need to pop that in the oven.

Ok, I am going out of my tiny little mind here, with boredom and my thoughts playing tricksies on me. No matter. I am (as they say in teen wanking fest Twilight) unconditionally in love with him. And he still has those wonderful hips which turn me on in a man. Can’t quite say how that fetish came to be. Everything about that man is a fetish. Right up to The Voice. I want him to read audiobooks. Like, erotica. I’d be wet in a second…

Speaking about audiobooks… as long as we’re there. I had an amusing “incident” a while ago. I downloaded ‘Henry and June’ by Anaïs Nin. It was read by an actress I like (Cherie Lunghi, who did a stint on Strictly a few years back), and it’s a good book apparently, so why not? Except it is not read by Cherie Lunghi. It’s read by a man. Which I only noticed after I downloaded it to my I Pod.

The croissants are ready

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Dirty talk on a Saturday night

Dirty Saturday

Another week almost over. It’s, what you would call, the little hours of Saturday and we’re both still up.

“Did you see him dancing in the corner with that hot guy?” I say, giggling hysterically for no reason whatsoever.

“I can’t believe he pulled tonight. And, just between you and me and said as a guy… that was a fucking stud!” he says. We’re both slightly inebriated, by the way. He’s been fondling me for the last half hour. He kisses one of my breasts, can’t quite register which one.

“I mean, if he were straight, would you have gone for him?” he asks me.

“Definitely. Without a doubt. Fuckin’ aye, he was gorgeous. But…”

“But what?” he asks , while tickling my belly.

I try to say something, but fail miserably.

“What? What are you thinking about?”

I get my act together and say: ” You’re much fitter than all of the guys in the bar tonight.”

“I’m flattered. Honestly. Now, can I kiss you?”

“You don’t have to ask, babe.” I say, leaning towards him. He kisses me, and it’s clear that he wants me. I can feel his erection pressing urgently against my stomach.

He wants to whisper something in my ear, but he slurs a bit, which makes him giggle. He’s a wuss when it comes to alcohol. Finally, he manages to form a sentence.

“Do you feel me?”

I nod. I mean, he’s touching me. Of course I feel him.

“No, no. Do you feel me? Do you feel what you’re doing to me? God, you get me so hard, I can’t… I just can’t resist you.”

I blush. Good to know that I still turn him on. Even when we’re both slightly drunk. He grins devilishly and continues.

“And oh, what I’m going to do to you. First, I’m going to kiss you, hard, so fucking hard, you’ll be blown away. I’m going to kiss your breasts, soft, tender…”

His words are turning me on. Even though he’s slightly incoherent….

“And then I’m going to lick your body, every single spot, every spot that turns you on, cos I know what turns you on, babe. I’m going to lick my way down to your cunt, your wet, sweet cunt and then, crikey, I’m going to make you writhe. I’m going to make you moan, like never before. And then… then I’m going to fuck you. Oh, I can just imagine it. I’m deep inside you, deep in your warmth…”

I give him a kiss. “Do you even know what you’re saying?”

“Trust me, babe, I know. I know that I want you, I want you so bad, it hurts. I want to see your face when you come and I want you to… God, I want you to look at me. Look at me when I come. I want you to see what I’m feeling inside. You make me so horny, and I just want your hot little body against mine.”

I grin. Can’t help myself.

“Then do it. Fuck me. Fuck me hard.” I whisper. “Pound my pussy, get that gorgeous, hard cock deep inside me.”

He smiles. “See, it’s more fun when you do it too.” he says.

“What, talk dirty?”

“Yes. Oh god, yes. That Welsh lilt makes everything sound dirtier.” he growls. “You know what? I’m going to make you come so hard that no other man will be good enough for you.”

He turns me on my back and straddles me.

“Ride ’em cowboy.” I say, winking. It’s this thing we do. Our little quirks. No matter what they say, our Dirty Saturdays are the best…

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My version of porn

So, a while ago I discovered a fantastic television show. You might know it. It is HBO’s sex on legs fest Rome. I would like to present you to some of the main characters. Note that some of them (alright, maybe all of them) are smoking hot.

James Purefoy as Mark Anthony

Kevin McKidd as Lucius Vorenus

Ray Stevenson as Titus Pullo

Polly Walker as Atia of the Julii

If you want more, like naked Atia, or Atia asking her son (future emperor of Rome) if he has penetrated anyone yet, Pullo on Cleopatra action or some bloody murder, please check out this show. Or ask me for more pictures.

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a little bit of fail

I don’t understand. There seems to be a fresh batch of gay panic underway, and it’s delivered by none other than America’s favorite asshole Dr. Phil. Now, I was lead to believe that he was a sensible man, loving to everyone no matter what gender, race or sexuality. Apparently, I was dead wrong.

He is now giving advice to people on not letting your kids become gay. I can just hear him saying it in that annoying accent of his.

So what if your boy likes boys or your girl likes girls? This shouldn’t be a problem! I thought be were living in a free world, and loving all cultures. Apparently, I’m just that naive. Excuse me for that.

Everybody should be able to love in their own way. Are we born gay? Do we become gay? I don’t know. But I do know that being gay is not a bad thing. It’s a very good thing.

Close transmission. Sorry for this. Regular service will resume tonight or earlier.

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surprises…

Ah, nothing like the sound of three people raping the shit out of Sex On Fire by Kings of Leon to make my day better. Yes, Idols is on again. And this week, no Crank to keep me company, no feverish dreams about Jason pounding my cunt in the middle of Chinatown.

Instead, I have the pleasure of off-key singing and charisma-lite people trying to wow us by standing completely still. There is only one guy that impresses me, and that’s because he is slightly hotter than the rest. Woe is the judges. Woe are the contestants. Woe is everything in this show.

Little note about the elimination round in MC Australia: Callum is still in. Yay! Philip is out. Boo.

I am now officially in love with Wee!Callum. He is too cute for his own good. I now know where he’s from. Nuriootpa, South Australia. In the Barossa Valley. If ever we go to Australia (and we might… stay tuned for more news on that) I’m hitting Nuriootpa.

I’m not supposed to shout it from the rooftops yet… but we may be going to the land down under at the end of the year… if we have the money and the money and the money… I might have to get off my arse and work. But that’s fine by me.

I had a surprise moment a few minutes ago. I encountered a little pic of Jason. Which made me happy. I get my hapiness from the little tings in life, you know.

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for Violet + Rye

A little ode to two of my favorite bloggers on my blogroll: Violet and Rye from Uncommon Appetites. I love these guys. They are two of the dirtiest people I know. Click on the link and step into their world. It’s amazing. You won’t regret it.

For Rye, some legwarmers

For Violet: Monsieur Vincent Cassel (with a bonus Monica Belluci)

Check out Uncommon Appetites. And thank you to Vi and Rye. Just because.

If you want a shout out for your blog, let me know- I shall visit.

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the fantasy

Man in the Mirror

Lazy Saturday or Sunday morning. I forgot what day it is. Time flies when I’m with him. My eyes open. I take a moment to register the environment. His flat. His bedroom. Pure white walls, virginal white linen… well, if you ignore the obvious flecks of bodily fluids. I start to think about last night. Oh, we were very busy. I remember his heavenly body on top of mine, his tongue licking my nipples and his lips on mine, all that good stuff.

And then it comes to me. In the dying hours of the night, whilst we were still recovering from our latest endeavour, he told me something. He told me he loved me. I didn’t reply. But fuck me, I was happy. I wanted to shout his name from the rooftops. I’m so in love with him.

I turn around and look at his sleeping self. He looks adorable. His eyes are fluttering, so maybe he’s still dreaming. I watch his stomach rise and fall every time he breathes. And then he awakens. His eyes open. He blinks. Always needs time to adjust to the light.

“Morning, babe.” he grunts. Not a morning person, my man.

“Morning.” I say. I draw him closer and brush my lips lightly past his. I love to tease him. And I’ve got something in store for him. But he must wait.

“Hey, no teasing so early in the morning!” he says.

“You know me, I like to tease. Now. Are you up for something?”

“Depends. What have you got in mind? Breakfast at the bakery down the street? I’d love to take you there.”

“Sounds nice. But first, something else. Go and stand in front of that mirror.”

He makes one of his patented “aye?” faces, which make me laugh. “Just do it, honey.” I say.

He stands up and walks towards the mirror. I get up and walk towards him.

“Ok, so what am I supposed to see here?” he asks.

“Me.” I whisper in his ear. “And my hands. Don’t turn around. Watch yourself.”

What follows is a feast for his senses. I start by kissing his neck, which always works for him. He’s already getting goosebumps. I run my hands down his muscular chest, a feast for my fingers. I tickle his stomach and run circles around his bellybutton. I have a bit of a bellybutton fetish…

He is giggling slightly. He loves the tickling. And the faces he’s making are priceless.

“Like what you see?” I say.

He lets out a long moan. Which becomes even longer as I gently flick his nipples. I kiss his neck again and look in the mirror.

“Aha.” I say, content with what I see. He has quite an erection already. I run my fingers over his bulge (did I mention that I absolutely adore his cock?) and he moans loudly.

“Do you like that? Do you want more?” I say, teasing his cock till he’s rock hard and panting like a mad man. He nods. But I’m not done. I want to drive him insane. I press my naked body against his and rub against him.

“Oh dear god.” he moans. “Please. Please toss me off. I can’t take it anymore.”

“Oh? Already? Well, well, well. I thought you could go longer.” I say, teasing him.

“Fuck, woman, please don’t tease… OH GOD!” he cries out, as I rub his cock.

“Alright. I’ll give you what you want.”

I take off his boxers and give him a moment to look at his sexy, naked self. And then I wrap my hands around his throbbing cock and I start tossing him off as if my life depended on it. He’s crying out, shouting ‘oh my god’ after ‘oh my god’, with a bit of ‘fuuuuuuuuuuck’ in between. He looks like he’s about to turn into a puddle of water. And his faces, again, are priceless. Pure, uninhibited ecstasy.

He comes mere minutes later, his juices running freely over my hands. I traced his lips and made him lick it from my hands.

“Tastes good.” he said dryly. He turned around, picked me up and carried me to the bed, before collapsing. “My legs feel funny.” he whimpered.

I cuddled up to him. “Did it feel good?”

“It was weird. I’ve never… watched myself during a hand job. Never thought about it either. But it was quite cool. And hot. And now I can’t stand up anymore.” he said, chuckling.

“You don’t have to. We have all day. We can just lie down, relax…”

“And have loads and loads of sex.” he said, kissing me. “I love you. Can’t say that enough.”

I smiled as he said it.

“I love you too.” 

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let’s play a game

Today, let’s play: Unusual places to find sex toys for sale! I’ll start.

A few weeks ago, I was at the hospital cafeteria. This is adjacent to the gift shop, so I wondered in there. I browsed the tiny shop, only to find something unusual.

I found a vibrating love duckie. On sale. At the hospital gift shop.

Then, yesterday, I was in the city, at a store which sells all kinds of natural goods (think tea, make up, bracelets with crystals and all that). I was, once again, browsing, when I stumbled upon a shelve with not only a variety of I Rub My Duckie ® ‘s (and a travel size I Rub My Wormie, fer cryin’ out loud). The shelve also had this beauty:

Yes, the nature goods store was selling the Onyé Fleur Red Metallic.

Have you found any sex toys in unusual places? Dildo in a cd store, perhaps? Free butt plug with your toilet paper? I’m listening….

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lack of man

It’s weekend. No MasterChef. No Jason movies. And I’m quite horny.

So horny, that I dreamt about him last night. Callum, that is. Or at least I think so. It looked more like an X rated scene from Glee. We were perfoming on stage and backstage, Callum had gotten quite the erection. And of course, I had to touch him. And people saw it. People saw me blow Callum Hann from MasterChef, backstage at a Glee concert.

Mr Shue would not approve of this.

So, as you know, I’ve started reading again. Still reading Eat Pray Love, finished book one (Italy) and starting book two (India) tonight. Might take me a few days to get to the finish line. I’ve got a lot of catching up to do. Why? Because I am an unashamed bookaholic, geek, whatever… And just to give you an idea of the amount of books I bought since, let us say last July?

I recently bought a new bookcase for them. And it’s full.

Shame on me, I know. I even have one shelf reserved for all the books I bought in London last August. I’m worried about next time we go….

Here. Have a man.

Why yes, Mr Skarsgard, I do want to be fucked by you. On that very chair, kthx. I don’t know, he just radiates sex, doesn’t he?

I do realise, if I ever get married to all the guys I fancy, I will have the longest last name in history…

Why hello, Mrs. Statham Skarsgard Hann? Hann Statham Skarsgard?

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sticky sheets

This will happen if you can’t keep yourself together anymore and just have to have an orgasm. I may or may not just have done it. Squirted, I mean. Mistake number 1: trying to squirt when you are still in the latter days of your period.

Mistake number 2: sticky sheets, sticky fingers, bloody sheets too. But fuuuuuuuuuuck, I needed that. I needed my bowling pin inside me (if you can’t quite figure out what bowling pin means in this context: it’s my white, smaller vibe, which looks like a bowling pin held upside down)

Mistake Mc 3: trying to squirt when you know that your cleaning lady is coming on Tuesday to change the sheets.

I don’t feel so good… Is this normal? Do you tend to feel like you are nauseous after squirting?

Must try again when with new vibe and feeling better and not on my period. Now, for the embarrassing bit: informing my mum that she needs to get rid of the sheets now and burn them because the blood spots are terrifying.

If I sound like a prude or something, please forgive me. It’s very, very late and I’m tired and sick and I feel like a spinny top. Shit…

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