Aussie Soaps Outlaw Masturbation?
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Posted:Mar 3, 2008 7:00 am
Last Updated:Mar 7, 2008 1:16 am
3607 Views
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I had to share this with you. You had to be there really but maybe you can imagine the scene.
There I was wondering what comments I might get on my previous post, vainly hoping no one was going to be taking it too seriously, and passing the time watching my favourite daytime Australian soaps while I should have been working.
Irene is interviewing a hunky canditate to take over as her partner running the Summer Bay Diner, and she has at last decided she is willing to accept that the new guy has all the right credentials. She rolls her eyes says words to the effect of oh alright then and shakes his hand. Then she drops the bombshell:
"Okay, but on one condition.............NO WANKING."
What? WHAT?? Did she really just say that? Have I suddenly drifted onto a pirate porn TV spoof version, like "Home and have-it-Away" or something, lol???
Then he gives her a big cheesy wink, and it dawns on me: She said "winking" with a broad Australian accent, lol. I really did laugh out loud. I could almost imagine Irene really telling this guy not to be priming the potugese handpump in his room upstairs while she was trying to serve sausages to the customers! (Like I said you had to see it really. )
Just goes to show, never jump to conclusions!
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8
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Romantic Escapism
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Posted:Mar 3, 2008 4:49 am
Last Updated:Mar 7, 2008 4:53 am
3573 Views
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SO here's the thing......
I don't go to the movies that often but when I do, I love romantic comedies. The Lake House, Four Weddings, Music and Lyrics, My Best Friend's Wedding, The Holiday, Groundhog Day, Love Actually etc etc. I know I know, some of these are not great films! But I love them. (Some are ok. I saw "Definitly Maybe" a couple of weeks ago and that is well made and properly thought provoking as well as being fun. Anyway I'm digressing. I do that a lot in case you haven't noticed. )
At the weekend I went to see "The Accidental Husband." It's awful. I mean seriously; unless you love rom-coms don't go to see it. But still I really enjoyed it!!!! I think it is the pure escapism of the improbably romantic which gets to me. I actually find it sexy. That special connection between two people which just happens, sometimes for no apparent reason even if they have nothing in common. That turns me on.
Plus there is enough bad stuff going on in the world without watching wars, murders and corruption for entertainment too!
I know a very sexy woman who only likes scary movies. Can't stand all that "mushy gushy" stuff. (Funny thing is that in real life neither can I, maybe that's why I like her - good and down to earth. )
But I can't see anything horrible and not be affected. A girl I once knew took me to see "The Tin Drum" and it put me off sex for weeks. And when I saw "Candyman" on TV (I can barely bring myself to type it, and I am certainly not going to say it out loud even once, ) all the blood I have went cold and hid somewhere, certainly wasn't going to rush to my extremities if you know what I mean.
So what would we do if we had a date and wanted to see a film. That could be tricky. Any ideas?
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9
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Lakeshore
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Posted:Feb 27, 2008 3:59 pm
Last Updated:Jan 9, 2009 2:41 am
3840 Views
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It was the last day of summer. The heat of even the southern sun had blown away on the lakeshore breeze and as I reeled up my fishing line I could smell wood smoke from the fire pit she was burning for tonight's party. I knew it was time for me to go and help.
She loved her parties. Ten guests, Shrimp, beer and barbequed swordfish would be mixed together perfectly in an hour's time.
But I hadn't expected what was waiting for me when I rowed up to the boat dock. She stood leaning against a mooring post, silhouetted against the orange sunset and with her breasts loose in the front of one of my work-shirts. I could see there was nothing underneath. As I moved closer I could see she had that look in her eyes. Pre-party need.
I threw a loop of rope around the post she was leaning against, put one foot onto the landing stage and paused. My eyes were level with her thigh. The water was low and I had to crane my neck to look up into her face. She didn’t say any words. Standing tall with her feet apart, her body spoke to me in its own way. As the evening breeze tugged at the shirt I leant my head against her hip, breathing the heat from her. And the faint scent of her readiness from under the shirt's hem. I slid my hands under, palms against her hips and then pressed them upwards over her body and onwards towards her breasts. She closed her eyes and I felt a tremor ripple through her stomach. Like butterflies in an empty meadow, and a thunderstorm brewing.
Still leaning back against the post, she bent her knees just slightly, till my lips were level with her stomach and my fingers could reach her nipples. I gave myself to her need, a thumb and forefinger on each nipple, my tongue on her hips, her lips, and then her tiny bud, softly and gently at first but firmer and deeper as she responded. She was already wet. The smell of her was gentle but intoxicating and I licked her harder, absorbed in the gasps I could hear from above, from somewhere beyond the shirt where my fingers were working. Her knees began to spasm and shake. My face was buried in her warmth as if I was in some secret haven, hidden from the world where I could never be found, and I pushed and rubbed and licked myself against her until I was part of her need and her gasps had become cries half way between ecstasy and the otherworld .
She stiffened and arched, her legs straightened; I had to strain upwards to keep in contact. Her stomach jumped under my elbows and I felt her hands on my shoulders, gripping me. Then at last she began to go limp. Her shoulders slid down the post as her knees buckled. She sank to the decking, legs bent, bare feet flat on the boards, her head thrown back against the post, with her long dark hair still sticking to the sun-bleached wood above. I lifted my eyes and looked into her smile.
“I am going to fuck you later,” I said huskily.
“I know.”
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Ruthless Slut-Fucker?
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Posted:Feb 26, 2008 2:41 am
Last Updated:Dec 12, 2011 3:02 am
4143 Views
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I was up late blogging last night and when I finally went upstairs to sleep, the wind and rain lashing against my window kept me awake. I had been re-reading an old blog in which the author bemoaned the fact that she could never find a man who appreciated her sexual depths and could still love her and take part in her other interests. "If he sees me as a slut, can he ever see me as a lover? And if I get to know him first, will he be disgusted when he sees that side of me? How can I know until it is too late and I have already decided I like him?" she says.
Ever since I read those words they have been jangling about inside my brain, bumping into places where I keep Thoughts which are nearly exactly the same. So I switched on the light, grabbed the pen and paper that I keep by the bed and wrote this. It is a little bit stylised because I was in writing mode at the time, but it is also pretty much how I feel somethimes:
Why is it that when I am single, and can therefore, in theory at least, have sex with whoever I want, I find that I want to go out into town looking for some sexy but otherwize brainless boob-tubed nymphette I can charm from her drunken stupor with my wit and intelligence and bring back to bed like some ruthless slut-fucker? It is not how good she looks which attracts me. It is the mere fact that she looks like she wants sex. Really she just needs company or something. She just needs to feel wanted, probably doesn't care if she comes or even feels anything at all, just doesn't want to have to go home on her own.
But now that I've got her here I'm not settling for that and after I have enjoyed the careless smile on her face as her boobs pop expectanly out of the tube, gradually I manage to get her worked up until she's bucking and twisting; milking it, calling out for god. Finally when I can't be bothered any longer I come myself and sleep, in the hope that in the morning she will will have magically transformed into a beautiful university-educated temptress who will cook breakfast and inspire me to keep loving her for ever.
Someone who will share my hopes and fears and understand my endless theories and home spun philosophy of life. Someone with dreams of her own. But she doesn't. And so instead I meet and fall in love with beautiful educated career girls who don't have the first idea of how to keep me turned on, and who I need because they understand me, but who never seem to want to fuck properly.
And like the blogger who first wrote the words I want to know "Why can't I have both?"
I have met a few women who were both, or so nearly both. The Lioness was one, but there have been....are others. But either I am not quite right for them, or something always gets in the way. A university-educated career girl whom I don't want to hurt usually, lol!
[After reading this again I feel I should point out that this is not something I do regularly, or indeed have ever done, (well maybe once or twice, lol ) but it represents a feeling about how I am, what I feel I might want to do. ]
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14
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Do Redheads Taste Different?
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Posted:Feb 20, 2008 10:42 am
Last Updated:Nov 29, 2010 9:07 am
4628 Views
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Before we get into the whole pineapple juice and not too much red meat and tobacco thing, actually I'm not talking about love juices here, male or female. (Although if you have a view on that feel free to share. )
No, it's just that I was having this conversation with Someone; we were talking about how there are two types of red-headed people, the darker, chestnut/auburn sort of hair (which I happen to find very sexy) and the paler, firey red/blond type with the invisible eyebrows and strange pale eye-lashes which she said she finds a bit scary. (I know that's weird, but she has compensating qualities, just bear with me for a minute.)
So anyway, I was in that kind of relaxed, say-whatever-you-feel-like frame of mind and before I had time to think about it, out of my mouth came;
"yeah, and their skin tastes different too."
After we had stopped laughing, I tried to explain what I mean. It's not so much the taste, it's the texture I think. They have that paler, floury skin, more prone to freckling, and I think it feels different to the touch of a tongue. The only problem is, I can only dimly remember my experiences giving a serious tongue lashing to members of the ginger minge club, certainly not clearly enough to back up my conjecture with hard logic and facts. I thought about doing some further research in the supermarket today, - the place was infested with red-heads and I kept wanting to stop them and ask if I could taste their skin - but fortunately common sense, or was it common decency, prevailed. So I am appealing to the wider collective experience of my readers:
Do red-heads have different tasting skin?Or different feeling skin for that matter. (And are there any female red-heads living near me and willing to travel, purely for experimental purposes of course.)
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29
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(Page:)
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"When my Buzzer Goes"
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Posted:Feb 19, 2008 1:21 pm
Last Updated:Feb 27, 2008 4:41 pm
3526 Views
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"Upstairs in bed with my ex boy
He's in a place but I can't get joy
Thinking of you in the final throes
This is when my buzzer goes"
Poor Amy Winehouse, I really hope she gets herself better soon. Back to Black really is a superb album and she wrote all the songs herself.
The lyrics above are exeptionally clever and particularly appealed to me. She makes it sound so sad and ironic that she has to think of whoever "you" is to get her "buzzer" to go. But it set me wondering. Can most people really do this? I don't think I can.
First of all I'm not sure how capable I would be of making love to one woman if I was really thinking of another. That just doesn't work for me. And if I was, then thinking of her "in the final throes" would have the reverse effect on me I think.
Any thoughts?
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8
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It's aThin Line
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Posted:Feb 18, 2008 4:01 am
Last Updated:Mar 28, 2008 5:50 am
3676 Views
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"It's a thin line between love and hate."
I find it amazing how the sound of someone's voice can have such a deep effect on my mood. I used to be spellbound by Chrissie Hynde's voice. When I first heard the Pretenders' "" I felt like she was singing it just for me.
Then just earlier today I was reminded how the sound of the right voice saying even something simple like "I'm not going to be doing that!" can make me feel sexy inside. Voices can be like music, bringing thoughts and feelings to the surface in magical ways which even now we don't fully understand. And a voice doesn't have to have an instant attraction the way a face or the shape of someones body often does. Voices can grow on you. They can become attractive by familiarity or by association I suppose.
I never really fancied Chrissie Hynde. She isn't exactly pretty. I never warmed to her as a person. But something in that voice and those words. It was on the radio - "Thin Line." There is a woman who knows how fragile a relationship can be. How suddenly a last straw can make someone's love turn off. She knows it's a thin line between love and hate. But I always like to come down on the love side if I can.
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9
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Rabbit Miss-use?
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Posted:Feb 15, 2008 1:13 am
Last Updated:Feb 18, 2008 1:17 am
3535 Views
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I was talking to my friend yesterday - she's a bit nuts - and she told me her baby has taken to sucking her rabbit as a dummy when they are going somewhere in the car!
I didn't ask whether it was on or not at the time.
Or whether she had been using it beforehand. Eugh! (maybe that's why he likes it.... No...I don't want to think about that. )
She said he just loves it and it keeps him from screaming so why not? She also said maybe it would make a good talking point if she got stopped by the police; they would be too gob- smacked to give her a ticket. I did say she's nuts.
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Cleopatra's Box -The Answer
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Posted:Feb 11, 2008 3:59 pm
Last Updated:Oct 7, 2010 2:07 pm
3834 Views
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Thanks for playing along and guessing; no one got it right but I think smilingrl was the nearest. Here is the answer:
When Cleopatra gets the box she doesn't even try to open it. All she does is put another lock of her own on it, and send it straight back to Caesar. When it arrives, he takes his lock off and sends the box to Cleopatra again, who can then take off her own lock and roger herself silly with a perfect replica of her lover's cock.
This system is used today in computer cyphers, for example for encrypting banking details for transmission on line. If I send you a password using a simple alphabet code, like substituting the next letter in the alphabet all the way through, you can send it back to me after adding your own code, and when I have taken my code off it you will be able to read the password without either of us even having known the other's code system. There is no need for code books or cypher machines and a different code can be used everyday.
Those Romans were a bit clever you know.
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10
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Teaser
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Posted:Feb 8, 2008 7:40 am
Last Updated:Oct 7, 2010 2:09 pm
3636 Views
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Okay, not my usual blog style, but this occurred to me so I thought you might like to consider it over the weekend. No prizes, but I will look especially favourably on anyone who can tell me the answer, LOl!
Julius Caesar wants to send Cleopatra a "Clone-a-willy" of his cock for Valentines Day. Mark Anthony is going to Egypt so Caesar decides to put the cloned cock in a box and ask Anthony to take it with him. But naturally, and being a jealous type, Caesar doesn't want run the risk of Anthony opening the box and substituting a clone of his own willy.
What can Caesar do to make certain Cleopatra recieves the box unopened, but is able to open it herself? (He cannot send her the key to the lock because Anthony might use it, but we can assume that the box is impregnable, and that Anthony will not break the lock for fear of being found out.)
* Clue.....This does pre-suppose that Caesar and Cleopatra have done this kind of thing before and that she knows how the system works. In fact the Romans did use this system, (though I don't know if they used it for the transportation of life-like dildoes, lol, ) and it is still in use today in a very modern form.
Come on, have a go at working it out if you don't already know the answer. If you can't, I will explain all on Monday.
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8
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In Red Silk
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Posted:Feb 7, 2008 10:32 am
Last Updated:Feb 11, 2008 2:31 am
3417 Views
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I was dreaming. I have wracked my brains but I can't call it back to mind. I wish I could, I have this feeling it was a good dream. But it has gone....that happens with dreams; I have given it up.
All except the end.
There was a moment when, in the dream, I think I was at the computer. Or some kind of screen anyway. I think it was the computer because I think I clicked the mouse and suddenly the dream I was in had slipped away and another vision had taken its place. It was like a cross between a pop video and a promotional film. Very atmospheric. Dimly lit but professionally shot. Soothing, slightly outlandish background music. And folds of deep magenta red silk.
The red silk was like a fine theatre curtain, or a heavy veil, but lying flat, covering a shape.....was it maybe.....I looked more closely....a female form? Written words were fading into view, superimposed above the red silk and the shape beneath, and the silk was moving, I could make out beautiful legs beneath the silk, the shape of....was that a breast? Yes I could see a hard nipple making a point in the veil. I could imagine the material gently sliding across the sensitive tip of that nipple, how it would ache for my tongue to soothe it. And as the music swelled, the words became clear...A Blogger's Name! I stared, mesmerized.....
And then my alarm went off.
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6
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Another Picture
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Posted:Jan 31, 2008 2:42 pm
Last Updated:Feb 4, 2008 2:34 pm
3955 Views
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There is of course another picture I keep seeing in my minds eye these days.
She stands in front of me, feet slightly apart, her strong but shapely thighs drawing my thoughts to what lies behind her hand, her breasts framed by the crook of her left arm.
She is covered, yet uncovered, I see the perfectly tanned skin of her shapely legs, the vague promise of breasts beneath her sweater, her face hidden, yet imagined, a cheeky grin pehaps as she photographs herself. An image now lusted after by hundreds of men all over the world no doubt........quite right too.
And yet, just for a moment, I wondered if it might be for me. Did she imagine my hands slipping under that soft clothing, cupping the weight of each breast, feeling the nipples tighten against each palm? Could she feel my heat as I dreamed of pressing my naked flesh against hers, my leg slipped in between her knees? Did her lips push back against mine, parting to taste my tongue as we kissed and sent the fire racing through our veins.
I cannot be sure. But the image stays with me now just as if she had.
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10
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Under Fire
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Posted:Jan 24, 2008 11:06 pm
Last Updated:Aug 19, 2008 3:53 am
3490 Views
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Strange dreams disturbed my sleep. First I dream I am under fire. I am defending a stairway from attacking troops, though they seem in fact to be real people whom I know, in civilian clothes. I have never had anything to do with the military, (both in real life and in the dream ) so I don’t really know what to do and I am very scared. Automatic fire is smashing into the brickwork all around me and it seems inevitable that I will be hit; I try to stay behind cover. I keep firing back but I never seem to hit anything, and there are so many of them it must be only a matter of time before I am overrun. I imagine throwing a grenade to keep them around the corner of the stairwell, but actually I don’t know if I have any grenades, or how I will reach them with one hand whilst trying to keep firing with the other.
Suddenly the scene shifts to the inside of the bunker I was trying to protect. People are desperately working to try to fix something ‒ I can’t see what. I realize we are not safe and that the attackers will arrive any moment but no one seems to take any notice of me. I must have woken up for a while, because when I go back to sleep this dream has gone and in the next one Willhe69you2 and Zandigal are computer whiz- lawyers who have constructed a special computer in order to send me email. Willhe is muttering, “apply, and than click send.” But a screen pops up saying Federal Law dictates that they must enter their Law Accreditation codes in order to be allowed to send mail using this device. This would mean disclosing their real names and addresses to me. They are still discussing this when I am awoken by a noise in my cupboard. I realize that it is my guitar case, which I put there in a hurry yesterday, settling for some reason on a bunch of holdalls and boxes.
It is still the middle of the night but I have a bad dream-hangover from the war scene; it wasn’t very realistic or vivid, but I do occasionally have dreams of being in a war and they always leave me feeling very uneasy for a while. I can’t sleep so I switch on the computer and write this up in the hope it will help.
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