Oct 312008
 


 

Why yes, those are hands. And yes, I’m on top and we’re both naked. Any more questions?


I don’t really do much for Halloween anymore. Last year or the year before, I picked up the devil horns you saw yesterday. Wore them to work (old job). How sweet my coworkers to ask where my costume was, “how fitting”, etc etc. Ha. Ha. Ha. Little did they know….

It’s been since college that I last attended an actual Halloween party, and got dressed up. I was 19 and a lot thinner and more bold. This was my sophomore year of college, and my roommate that year was a great girl I went to HS with. We were bad, smoking too much pot, skipping too many classes, etc. When her boyfriend decided to rush a fraternity that meant we had to attend frat parties.

Wait, back up here. C and I decorated our room quite a bit, integrating our stuff well. I had a riding crop that was a souvenir from the Kentucky Derby. She happened to own a pair of handcuffs. So we hung these up on the wall side-by-side. We thought we were cute shit, our answering machine’s outgoing message was “Thank you for calling C and L’s house of whips and chains. We’re all tied up at the moment so leave a message.” I never said we were original. So that year for Halloween I decided to use that crop and handcuffs and be a dominatrix.

*grins* Foreshadow much? At this point in life I had only been sexually active a few years, and “kinky sex” was just not in my vocab.

I think the outfit was a vinyl black skirt, some sort of top resembling a corset, stockings, doc Marten boots, a black fask mask, and accessories. No, I didn’t put it to official use. Pity, I know. But what did I know?

A party off campus with a boy I liked I wore a real corset, flimsy top, floor-length full skirt, and boots. Hair up, and fake bite marks on my neck, I was the victim to his vampire. I looked hot. *sigh* the good ole days.

Oct 232008
 

“2 days ago {3 days ago, as you’re reading this post} I was replying to a post of yours…. a very delectable, very beautiful, set of pictures… I had no idea that you’d reply to me, let alone helping me set up my page; so I wanted to thank you. And yeah….your posts have done nothing but get me absolutely fucking -wound-….the thought of you being alone in your office till 5…wow…I’ve got a whole load of naughty ideas…”

Whoa, reverse. Back up. 4 days ago, Subtle Release started reading my blog. Bouncing around between recent and archive posts and leaving a few comments. So I checked out his blog, his very new blog, and left him a comment about his post and thanking him for the very nice compliments he left on mine. He alluded in his reply comment there that his frustrated state might be caused a bit by me. The next day I found another post, praising the beautiful and geeky women he found through HNT. Beautiful and geeky? My kinda girl! Share the link, please! Well….

“Pictured This one as a top down view while I ran my tongue over your pussy, making your back arch”

Oh. My my my…. *blush*

So I decided to reply via email to his most recent comment on another archive post. We flirted a bit and I gave him information, how-to, and advice on the blog he started. Walked him through a few basic WordPress settings. Next day, more of the same. I was summoned to the downstairs office to cover the desk, and found that the only remaining person working was likely gone the rest of the day at meetings. I found myself looking at an hour there all alone. Now, you -know- the sorts of things I get up to when I’m alone there. So I fill him in briefly. Smart boy, asks if I have gotten out my bullet vibe yet. No, wasn’t feelin it….Shame, no? He asks if I would mind if he left me a voicemail through gmail. Hmmm…no one has ever done that before…what followed was what you read above.

His voice quiet and low, he seemed mildly unsure of himself….it was cute. I could tell when he paused to smile. Which words were just flowing without forethought, and which words were emphatically, deliberately stated. It made me smile. Second listen, it made me wet. 75 seconds was the length of that message. 75 seconds to make my pulse race. 75 seconds to hook me and hooked I was. I wanted more.

Spurred on, he recorded another, longer one. Detailing a short fantasy brought on by some photos of mine. I sat there all alone, quiet office, his voice heavy with lust was pouring out of my speakers. What caused my hand to quickly slip below my dress pants and dip into my sloppy wet cunt was the first catch in his voice. A nanosecond pause, intake of breath. Then a few stumbled words. 2 seconds of heavy breathing. While I could not be certain, it sounded as if he were stroking his cock while speaking to me. THAT did it. Vibrator out, pronto. I replayed a few sections, listened to the telltale signs, pressed that bullet vibe to my clit. While I was sitting back, lost in the quiet of my own thoughts……the door opened. Thankfully I had closed the glass door to drown out the hallway noises, but it only afforded me a 2 second cover-up time. Faster than lightning I yanked my hand out of the front of my pants, as I spoke to my coworker (higher-up, funny older lady, but who could get me in trouble) it took me a few seconds to shut off the vibe. She had stopped in to speak to the supervisor who was out at meetings. I tried so hard not to look guilty but I think I failed. I knew my face was flushed deep with embarassment and arousal.  She could have seen my hand making a hasty retreat.

Did that prevent me from finishing?

You know me….no it did not. 2 minutes later I was quietly moaning my orgasm. Breathless with wet sticky fingers. Had someone walked in at that exact moment I would have been in trouble for sure.

I praised his efforts, thanked him, and said that I would welcome more in the future. That the brief seconds where it was obvious his arousal had gotten the better of him, were the best part. I listened to the voicemails once or twice more that evening.

The next day, yesterday, was filled with teasing (words and photos) on both ends. Relentless flirting. I took delight, nay, glee in knowing that I was making him insanely crazy with lust. Every leap he took down the road of “resistance is futile” just fed me more, made me reveal a little more to get that extra ounce of desire from him. I kept seeing a voicemail notification pop up in my inbox. Damn him, he knew I couldn’t listen to them, I had no headphones. So much for him thinking he wouldn’t be able to leave such voicemails that day in between the need to stay quiet and all the conference calls he was obligated to. I brought myself to the very edge quite a few times (and ended up coming loudly in my car). Right before I left though, in a very nearly empty office, I turned up my sound and stealthily listened to his most recent voicemail. All labored breathing and whispered incantations of a man dying to come, quiet moans escaping despite his efforts. I let that reverberate in my head in the walk to my car. I arrived home to find the culmination of his efforts, finally, in one last (of 4 total) voicemail. Oh fucking hell. Hottest thing I’ve heard in a long while. An aural testament to the arousal I egged on. My ears picked up on so much that the scene painted itself in my mind.

I do not even know his name yet. I don’t know what he looks like (above the waist, heh). But still the connection was quick and electric. I want more.

Oct 212008
 

I don’t usually do these, but for my Butterfly I will. She tagged me and it’s short* and painless. Mostly.

The Rules-
* Link to your tagger and list these rules on your blog.
* Share 7 facts about yourself on your blog – some random, some weird.
* Tag 7 people at the end of your post by leaving their names as well as links to their blog.
* Let them know they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.

1. I hate bananas. Anything even remotely banana-flavored….if bananas were in the fridge along with bread (my mother is guilty of that) I won’t eat the bread. Even if I perceive the side-flavor to be slightly banana, I’ll refuse to eat it. Also hate the smell of bananas. It stems from being forced-fed a liquid medicine as a kid that was banana-flavored. I projectile vomited it all over the kitchen curtains and wall.  Even more weird? I have an exception to this: girl-scout-camp campfire banana boats. Foil, a whole banana, split, with hershey bar blocks and marshmallows. close it up and toss it onto the coals.

2. Again on the “food” thread, I’m revolted by cloves. When I was….hmm…wanna say 14/15, I had all my wisdom teeth out. When I finally was awake enough later on to eat, the only thing I could eat was spaghetti with ALOT of sauce. For some reason the temp and taste covered up the lingering blood taste in my mouth. Well I apparently accidentally sucked on a few strands of sketti, and dislodged the clots in the 2 bottom sockets. Was up all night in excruciating pain from dry-socket. Bastard plugged up the holes with eeney-weeny rags soaked in clove oil. Fucking HELL that was nasty. Drank a shitload of Coke to drown out the taste all throughout the day (prolly why I hate Dr. Pepper). Clove cigarettes, cloves in ham…..*gag*

3. My first true taste of geekdom was with a Pascal programming class. Prior to that…..taking apart my Simon electronic game to see how it worked without it’s plastic housing.the programming class caused my major change to computer tech.

4. My late grandparents, born in 1910 and 1913, lived their life without knowledge of what the internet was. They were never on a “personal computer”. One day a few months before she died I tried to explain to my gram what the internet was. She wasn’t mobile and I didn’t own a laptop, so I couldn’t show her. Wow, that was hard. I recently recalled my first experiences on the internet, and now have a bit of sympathy for those who have only used AOL. I only used that, no “internet explorer” or whatnot for a good 3 years. AOL 2 I think, lol. After my dad died and my boyfriend and I upgraded the computer and internet stuff, he got me signed up with a local ISP. I couldn’t grasp the concept at first of what the internet would “look like” without the AOL interface.

5. I only have two “real” scars. On my right forearm, apparently they didn’t do a great job back then of sewing a person up. It’s kinda wide, like they didn’t sew it tight or somethin. I dunno. I’ll take a pic of it someday. I was 5 and was pissed at my cousin for using my favorite cup, slammed the porch door shut and my arm went right through the glass (before plexiglass was norm).  Right before my little tap-ballet class recital, hehe. I’m all cute in these little costumes, with a big ole bandaged up arm. Other scar is on my cheek. I was 3 and watched my babysitters husband shave in the morning, and thought I’d try it for myself. I see photos but I don’t recall it at all.

6. I’m really afraid of heights and I don’t know why. I didn’t use to be. And by heights I mean the top of a three-step ladder. I can’t stand on the edge of a balcony, even one on the second floor. I can do it sitting though. Worked at Staples long ago, and having to climb to the top of their big metal roaming “staircase” ladders….wow. Coming back down took me a bit. I think I had to do the first few steps on my butt. And that’s the -easy- kind of ladder!!

7. The first time I masturbated wasn’t until age 17. I didn’t really know where my clit was or “how to use it” till age 21. I didn’t have an orgasm (an “oh my god THAT was definitely an orgasm” type) from masturbating until age 28 when I bought my Pocket Rocket, my first clit vibe. All other orgasms prior to that vibe were of the g-spot kind but very subtle. And no, I didn’t know where my g-spot was. He just managed to hit it ;)

Ok! I’m tagging:

  1. Nadia
  2. Ms. Inconspicuous
  3. Naughty Secretary
  4. Jake
  5. BadBadGirl
  6. Riff Dog

*Ok so I’m “wordy”, it’s official. Happy now? ;P

Oct 212008
 

Hey it’s Tits For Troops Tuesday again, and I’m up with a “blue bra” photo not posted here! Go see and show some comment love for the tits everyone sends in!

Just a warning…there might not be an “HNT” photo this week. I have become bored with my tits. I ponder a photo idea and think naaahhh…it’s just another cleavage shot, how cliche and boring I’ve become.

So I’ll listen to *reasonable* requests. I’m not quite sure I’m ready yet to do things in really public places like a store…gotta work my way up to that ;)

I’m definitely goin to NYC for the Sex Blogger Calendar Launch Party. If you’re in the area, you should come!! I am a bit star-struck at all the ladies I’ll get to meet. Also, looks like I’ll be sharing a room/bed Friday night with BBG. (you’ll find a photo on me on her site, heh) The party is in the Lower East Side area and that’s where the hotel is too so I’m looking for recommendations of cool places to check out while we’re in tourist-mode.

I might have some other fun in November to report back on….we’ll see if it actually happens. Fingers crossed and all that…

Boy my tits sure do get around! Man Overboard is having some fun and raising money for breast cancer. For every photo of tits he receives, he’ll donate a dollar. Come on girls, send him pics! Bare or covered, it all counts. You’ll find a few of me on that link, and a few more will post on Friday.

Oct 152008
 

Come to my window…..

Maybe not literally, as I’m on the second floor…but you certainly might get a good view some evenings.

…………

The first window here is my bedroom window. They cannot see me on the bed (the whole of the bed takes up the entire space under the window, the headboard is against the window wall and the headboard is level with the windowsill), only when I’m standing up. The second window is that of the “cachette”, what was intended to be a small walk-in closet off the bedroom but is used as the office. This small window does not open; as I sit here typing away, I’m parallel to it.

Recently I have been outside in various states of the day/evening and realized…oh….people can see in a lot earlier in the day than I had assumed. And in the evening? The windows stand out, as this apartment is the only one to have the blinds up at any given moment. Unless I know there is someone out there within viewing distance I usually forget about the possible view I’m giving.

What has this window of opportunity led this exhibitionist to?

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

During the photo shoots done in the bedroom, the blinds are fully up to get in as much natural light as possible and the lamps are switched on, too. Since this building faces a residential street, there is car traffic going by, and people walking out to the cars and such. I’m sure they’ve seen me – topless or in my bra – standing there posing for someone. I’m sure they’ve seen my partner as he stands above me on the bed taking photos.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

One day, late in the afternoon, I was standing about 4 feet back from the window with one knee on the bed and facing out, peering at the moving van that pulled up. Since it was still late afternoon I had thought they couldn’t see in…it still being quite bright out there. Since my window is just a hair shy to the right of being directly in front of the steps, it’s kind of natural to look at the window sometimes if you’re on the stairs. One guy from the moving van looked up as he started to head down the stairs, but he stopped in his tracks and looked right at me. I could swear he couldn’t really see in all that well. I was wrong, I think. Since I thought I still had a veil of privacy around me, a little courage seeped into my bones as I took off my tshirt revealing naked bra-less tits. He stood there a few seconds longer until someone out of sight said something, startling him. As he continued down the steps he smiled a little in my general direction.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Again, back to the photo shoots….Remember the HNT pics for last week “She’s on Top”? I was facing the window. Those photos were taken at the end…and poor boy was quite wound up from it all. We ended up fucking, me still on top, hands gripping the headboard for leverage/support. My gyrating/bouncing upper half visible to all who went by and glanced in.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Saving the best for last….

One evening yet another moving van showed up. At first it was just late afternoon making way to dusk, and so I could see them quite easily. The van was parked directly in front of my bedroom window, and they were working on an apartment 2 doors down. As they would leave the apartment they had a good view if they glanced up of me at my desk. If they were in the truck they had a good view into the bedroom.

When I know I’m being watched, and I’m safely behind a window, my shyness drops off little by little. I went from topless to braless by nightfall, at which point I turned out most lights. My monitor throws off plenty of light and so my pale skin glowed and the view was quite obvious. I would glance down sometimes to catch them looking up at me. At one point I noticed that one guy had stopped completely to stare for a minute, under the guise of waiting for his co-worker. Once or twice I stood up, giving them a very full-on look at my bare breasts.

While my partner was out in the living room doing a pre-bedtime cleanup, I decided to have a pre-bedtime orgasm. The lights were out, the blinds were drawn. I had forgotten that the window was still open….

And I was very loud. No doubt they heard me. I was reminded that the window was open when my partner walked into the bedroom….I just said “Oh. I thought it was closed. Oh well!”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

So it shows that when I know I’m being watched, I crank it up. I would love to see some photos taken of me through the window from the voyeur’s point of view.

Oct 142008
 



*sigh* That’s an awful name for it, it’s totally unsexy. Squirmy? Nothing that goes in or near my cunt should be described as “squirmy”, thanks. Oh well. It’s a trade-off. At least it’s not a crab called Craby or any other “animal” themed vibe. Coy Pink and I had a conversation about those two atrocities and more, if you’d like to read our conversation ripping on cutesy animal vibes, go read her post. We’re funny when we get riled up.

It’s a Doc Johnson toy, which means it has the flight-panel-like control box at the bottom, like all of their Rabbit-style vibes. This vibe is made of Phthalate Free material, and Silicone, which is a major reason to choose it above others. My last Rabbit, also from Doc Johnson, was not of such lofty material and therefore had an unpleasant odor.

There’s many differences between this and typical Rabbit vibes – one being that there’s no goddamn annoying “Rabbit” to be seen. Those vibrating ears that came off the clit bullet were just annoying to me. Another difference is that it is thankfully lacking the stupid rotating rows of beads below the surface of the outter “skin” of the vibe. Those beads never did a damn thing for me. Instead this one well….it still rotates but it’s better….because there’s a wide curved tip to it which moves in a small circular motion. The nubs on the clit pad are very soft and provide great clit stimulation.

The control box can be hard to change speeds when you’re using this toy solo. There’s three buttons – one controls the speed of the shaft, one controls the speed of the clit pad and the third? Well it changes the direction of the rotation. Why???? I have no clue. I find it hard to believe that you can achieve a better orgasm just by changing the direction of the rotating head. You can have both the shaft and clit pad running or just one or the other.

It wasn’t powerful enough to get me off in 5 minutes or less, but it provided for a nice long slow climb. As I was riding out my orgasm I found that the rotating shaft massaging my G-spot actually increased the time of my orgasm by a bit.

Pros:

  • Made of Silicone and other good-for-you materials
  • More intelligent design
  • Choices in vibration speed and location
  • Less expensive than other similar toys, but just as good

Cons:

  • It’s loud. And the whirring sound of the rotating shaft made me envision a Kitchen Aide down there, mixing up something in my cunt. Really loud.
  • Control panel is hard to do when you’re using it solo

All in all, I do recommend it. It wasn’t “perfect” for me, but I will definitely be using it again.