Thursday, April 29, 2010

Dream-O s

A while ago something rare and precious happened. I was dreaming (rare and precious in itself, given the disturbing presence of wakey young son and snoring husband). That I was in my bed, with my lover lying behind me. We were looking for a belt, you know, as you do, and there wasn't one, so albeit reluctantly, I finally reached over and pulled my husband's from his jeans. I know. Symbolism symbolism.

Then my lover was no longer there, but I think at his instruction, I wrapped the belt around my mouth, and round my throat. And that was all it took - I came, all of a sudden, one of those surprising, brief, intense dream orgasms that always seem to be sparked by the slightest of things... like the merest brush of skin on skin, the briefest kiss. Once it was doing kinky stuff to a naked old man, and I woke up beyond disturbed. The subconscious is a strange and wondrous place. The belt-around-the-throat thing isn't something I'd conciously be into, so it's strange that it would be a trigger for a dream orgasm. Though hey, it's worth a daylight try, now, I suppose :)

Does everyone come in their sleep? Pop culture is all over the puberty wet dream, it's bigged up, and discussed, and referenced a lot. But there isn't a word about, or a word for, the female version - sure, you can call them wet dreams, but there's wet and there's the pulsations of your spasming cunt shaking you awake, know what I mean?

I suppose the reason I'm fascinated is that my waking orgasms are shy creatures, reticent, easily frightened away, and hard won. But my dreaming self clearly bypasses whatever inhibitions and fears and rational messing around that create the problem, and goes straight to O land.

Really, the only important question to ask is, how do I have them more often?

Monday, April 26, 2010

oh you've got to be freaking kidding me!!

Vulva cupcakes!!

Happy dance!

Snort, the blue furry ones look like muppet vulvas. Vulvae?

Sunday, April 25, 2010

Hot Fuck Sundae

I love April Flores' hand wrapped around Jiz Lee's cock here. With her chubby little industrious fingers. Reminds me of someone I know... and the way their hair matches. And Jiz's lithe pixie torso and happy face, she's like some sort of nymph.

And this is all at a porn awards event... how much more fun is this than Oscars' entertainment?

And I love how they love each other ... just check out their 'back of the cab I Love You Awards'. Dotey!

Saturday, April 24, 2010

an email, sent at 10.20 last night:


TV3 now ... vulvas!!

Friday, April 23, 2010

what more could a girl ask for?

Bookshelf porn is great... a dream for us readers and writers.

But bookshelves combined with restrained ladies might just be a dream come true for certain eroticists among our number.


boobquake monday

It seems that this monday is being reserved for a scantily clad protest.


Tuesday, April 20, 2010

Greta Christina on Tiger Woods and kink

He's a SuperFreak!

This is a lovely post, and she is a wise lady.

following alternative memory paths

I dressed in white that morning. Well, white skirts. Somewhere inside me is some sort of past life memory yearning for petticoats and layers and full skirts. So I was barefoot that afternoon, in white skirts and a gauzey little strappy peasant top, all tiny blue flowers on white. I'd been reading in the garden and the sun was still in my hair and in my eyes when I answered the door. For a second I could register what I was seeing. A woman was standing there with a grin, and buckets of white tulips. A little sea of them. She handed me an armful, and a clipboard, and asked me to sign for them. And I did, in a daze, staring at my own little meadow of white flowers that had appeared at my door.

You came home, and found me, still in the hall, sitting on the dark stained boards with flowers all around me, flowers in my arms, white on white, the waxy too perfect petals and matte green leaves pressing cooly against my breasts, cold under my chin. Bare toes framed against the floorboards by frothy white ruffles on one side and green stalks and white flowers on the other. Your lips on mine were petal soft, warm, not cool like the flowers' kiss. 'Wait! Don't crush the flowers!' And you laughed, you never let me kill the moment, and led me upstairs to the white bed instead, to push my skirts up my thighs and make my petals open to you, let me thank you for the way you see me, for what you think I deserve.

Sunday, April 18, 2010

Hot Fuck Sundae

Welcome dearies, those of you who, like me, still use the net on sundays. I know most people are busy with wholesome garden centre and dinner cooking and other family activities but for those still online and frequenting smut blogs, I bring this little gem. Other better women than me have their Man Candy Mondays, and so on, I couldn't compete. So Hot Fuck Sundae it is.

And to start of with something sweet and gentle...

Apologies, I downloaded this without remembering where it was from. Must do better, and observe 'nettiquette!

Saturday, April 17, 2010

it's a vulva, dammit!

This really is a pet hate of mine. 'Close your legs, Britney, we can see your vagina!!'

The vagina's the inside bit, you vocab-deficient idiots. Unless she's wearing this season's speculum trend, you can see her vulva. It's really not that difficult.

Don't you think referring to anything to do with a woman's genitals as 'her vagina' is just a bit... crap?

I know. I come from a godfearing, woman fearing country where people teach their daughters to talk about their 'Marys' but surely those days are going? And the Sile na Gig also comes from here, she just got hidden away for a while.

Now. You really can see her vagina.

Thursday, April 15, 2010

heh heh heh, those Christians...

Ok, ignore the silly caption. I suppose in the light of all the Catholic Church child sex abuse, this window is less amusing than just an honest depiction of daily life, but let's just focus on the dirty humour not the tragedy, eh?

Wednesday, April 14, 2010

I so relate to this!

Anyone else got one?

Saturday, April 10, 2010

All Aboard...

The 1.10 to Dirtyville...

Check out the blog, your one stop shop to the Dirtyville and Kinkyville anthologies; two collections of smutty tales of secret small town life, compiled by the one and only Sommer Marsden, and featuring a horde of fabulous writers including fabulous me!

Get down, get hot, get dirty and get yourself a copy.

Thursday, April 8, 2010

missing pieces

He gives me so much. But sometimes it doesn't feel like he gives me much. Little teasing tidbits I snatch and suck the life out of, transferring all their flavour into me, I lick them to the bone, wish for more.

He makes promises, suggestions I leap at, then doesn't play them out.

I know why. He needs to keep himself safe. And strong. Be what he needs to be, for him, for me.

But I need the forbidden feelings, the truth and the pain and the wanting - I want it, to sacrifice it to the dark space in me, the velvet black pit that opens up and calls for more. His blood, his tears, his cum. The pain, the fear... I could eat it all. Suck it all up and swallow it, each shivering word. And ask for more. Insatiable.