Friday, December 30, 2011

dangerous days

Someone posted this on Facebook and there was much giggline. I dunno. I think it's quite powerful. I don't know about you, but I've sat in a public bathroom and prayed for the absence of a little blue line. And been so grateful for the relief instead of the fear. And I wasn't even in danger of being stoned to death for my indiscretion. 

Just say there really was a divine immaculate conception. Imagine. Imagine how it would feel to learn you weren't crazy, or that your dream had been real. Or perhaps to think maybe you WERE crazy. 

I don't know. Sure it's a good get-out-of-stoning-free story. Or maybe just a good story. There's a lot of feminist fiction to be garnered from it, and the child's subsequent conviction that his father is God. If you're not precious about your bible stories, that is. 

Still. My point is one of sympathy for a common experience, rather than anything blasphemous or snide to be found in this painting. I really like it. 

Tuesday, December 6, 2011


Wednesday, November 30, 2011


And scarifying. Australia's attitude towards genitalia. Comments are important, even if this theme (same as my own) makes them annoying to read. 

Tuesday, November 29, 2011

this post is moving and educational

Monday, November 28, 2011

gendered tv stations

A friend just suggested that he's been thinking we need men and women's tv stations for a while now.

Off the top of my head, I said I wanted cupcakes, vampires, and porn.

I'd say, perhaps I need a tv station all of my own, but I KNOW there's people out there who'd join me.

I also like house programmes like Grand Designs and things like Misfits and Firefly and Stargate Atlantis. I've sort of stopped watching television in the last couple years, in favour of the internet, but part of me misses it.

What would your tailormade tv channel show?  

Friday, November 25, 2011


Monday, November 21, 2011

Thursday, November 10, 2011

the death of the editor

I once read the sample of a friend's wedding ... what do you call it... booklet? The one of the ceremony, anyway, that you get in the church. Oh dear, wordsearch issues strike again.

Anyway, I read it, and pointed out a couple your/you're mistakes. The groom was glad to know, but the bride defiantly and vociferously insisted she didn't care, and that they would leave them there.

In contrast, at my wedding rehearsal, my father (aha, neon arrows, blaring sirens, root of issue) pointed out that I'd spelled complement 'compliment' in one of the readings, causing me to throw an f bomb into the shocked silence of the church. Yes, my grammar pedantry was nursed at the knee of a Virgo father, and then I became and English teacher who corrects essays for a living. I really did care, and it was too late to change it. In fairness, it was a stressful time, for more than the obvious reasons. Still. I would have cared anyway.

My name is Vida, and I am a compulsive corrector of typos. I got into trouble last night, for pointing one out to a writer, ironically thinking I was doing something good. For some reason, it's taken me til now to really understand that people don't want attention drawn to their grammatical and typography errors. Most would rather not know. They don't care. I think it's finally sunk in - I hope so. I've been accused of perfectionism, though if only they knew how much the opposite is true, what a hopeless, helpless, floundering quitter I really am. It's not perfectionism that makes me care about accuracy in stories (and god knows my dashed off blog posts are full of hideous typos and weird Freudian spelling issues), it's just that the errors stand out in flashing red to me. Like that, but flashing.

The irony is that I offer my proof reading up in the hopes that people will like me for it. Have a cookie, let me proof your story, love me, please. Funny, eh? My super powers are not so impressive. Well, the cookies are good, but the power to spot missed apostrophes and tell you about them, not so hot.

Still. That aside, there's a serious point to be made in all this. There is much to be read about how e publishing is the future, and one of the concerns about that is that editing will become obsolete. It's cheaper for the publisher to have the author organise that themselves. And who can afford it, really? A friend who works for a financial paper says everything she writes is checked by three people other than herself. As far as I'm concerned, this makes sense. I don't believe you can really see your own mistakes, your brain won't let you. No flashing red in my own work. I know it's a big challenge for me, and I'm the typo queen. They still just don't stand out. It's clearly happening already - I've yet to read an ebook that doesn't have several typos in it.

But maybe a lot of people don't care at all? Ebooks are cheap, so quality is sacrificed, and that's ok? It's not for me - each typo or mistake I hit (or even each word I see that could be replaced with a better one) is like a huge speed bump in the road - it jolts me out of the story every time. I think reading should be a smooth process, whereby the words slide directly into your consciousness - that experience shouldn't be derailed by little mistakes. But maybe it's not for most people? I'm the grammar pedant English teacher here, maybe I'm just unable to read as a reader anymore, I can't put down the red pen.

So I'm undecided. I feel that quality and editing should be vital parts of the publishing experience. I have one writer friend who rejects the idea that they should have to format stories or proof read. After all, what are editors for if not to edit? I pretty much agree, and I think it's sad that this is where money is being saved. On the other hand, maybe I'm part of a small uptight minority, and most people just aren't bothered anymore. 

Monday, November 7, 2011

the hollow in your chest

I think I have some small sort of chest infection. The weight pressing on me feels a little like grief and longing; it's familiar, but in my experience grief and longing make less phlegm. 

Friday, October 28, 2011


I have no idea why, given the well-upholstered nature of its padding, but now the cold weather is here, my ass feels chill to the touch. Through layers of underwear and lycra and ... well, not such a heavy skirt, I suppose. Still, though. Why so frigid?

And I wonder how I could warm it up...

Bahhaha, I went looking for thermal undies, but this is funnier. On various levels nobody much will understand ;) 

Tuesday, October 4, 2011

rough and soothe

I don't like it freshly, perfectly smooth, so much. It unsettles me, somehow, a slip-soft cheek against my lips, a silken jaw.

I'd much rather some bristle, some scrape and rasp and texture. Some biteable contrast for my teeth to try and catch, the velcro click, the matchstick strike and flare, the promise of soreness against my thighs. Leave the softness for my lips to find when they reach your mouth, an oasis, a respite.

The blood in my wrists itches, to be scratched slowly along the sandpaper of your face til they reach your wet mouth, and you bless them, kiss the burn beneath my thin skin better. Scratch and soothe and set alight. 

Saturday, September 24, 2011

Intense Sensations

Vanessa at intensesensations has so very kindly awarded me a shiny green award! Generous in the face of my blog-neglect of late, especially.

Rather than nominate 15 people (because that's a lot of work, meme-dudes) I'll refer you to Vanessa's varied and versatile review blog. Her reviews are a delight, her subject matter a wonderful blend of literary and erotic texts. Have I put her on my blog roll yet? If not, it's only down to the laziness and neglect, not any other reason. Thanks Vanessa!

Here are some Vida facts for you to say 'hmmmm' about:

1. Vida may or may not have used her pseudonym as part of one of her children's names...
2. Vida recently went through a rollercoaster of elation and crushing disappointment when she discovered Daim cake in her local supermarket, only to find it was a special promotion, and everyone had bought it up by the time she went back for more.
3. Vida likes  loves to work from her bed, and is currently stymied by the broken condition of her laptop, and the even more broken condition of her finances.
4. Vida thoroughly expects rejection from every market she submits to, and lives in fear of the day she starts anticipating success and gets crushed. I think I may have been overconfident about one*
5. Vida doesn't write much. Lack of discipline, tiredness, distractions in the form of internet entertainment, tiredness, dullness of thought. When the inspiration comes, it's great, but ... it's rare.
6. Vida loves the thought process of idea-formulation. Where do they come from? I love how they grow as if implanted, seed-like, by the unseen hands of a celestial gardener with a trepanning-trowel.
7. Vida suspects it would all be much, much better if she could have 9 hours sleep a night. 

Bound By Lust!

It's getting warmer... warmer and closer and realer....

Bound by Lust is available for pre order now! 

My story in this pretty pretty book is called Slave Sister and it's inspired by the idea of sharing and caring. It's also the story I have written that is most inspired by 'sexy things I have seen on the internet. See? The hours of 'research' paid off :)

 I was worried it's a bit porny, but it's tender too.

I can't wait to get my paws on this book.*

*I just wrote 'I can't wet'. Freudian. 

Wednesday, September 7, 2011

Steamlust Trailer

Steamlust - an animated film from NikkiMagennis on Vimeo.

Nikki Magennis is a goddess.

Friday, September 2, 2011

Bound By Lust!

Sigh of relief!

I just got a beautiful mail from Shanna Germain, she of the sparkly new website. The news is that her meticulously selected collection of romantic bondage stories has made Cleis very happy, and they've chosen them all, and best of all, I'm in it too! By the skin of my panties, and very gratefully-pantied I am too.

Because, ooo, look at the lineup:

Reclaiming Spring  Sommer Marsden 
Being His Bitch  Janine Ashbless
Spring Training  Donna George Storey
A Preference for Deference  Allison Wonderland
The Heart of Chaos  Rachel Kramer Bussel
Under the Clock  Justine Elyot
Steps  Evan Mora
Brush Strokes  Kristina Wright
No Sleep  Kristina Lloyd 
Crossing the Line  Dominic Santi
A Few Things to Pick Up on Your Way Home  Andrea Dale
Life Lines  Nikki Magennis
Alana Noël Voth
Whippoorwill  Teresa Noelle Roberts
Slave Sister  Vida Bailey
A Beautiful Corpse  Craig Sorensen
Eine Klein Spanking  Clarice Clique 
Defining the Terms  Sharazade
Devil's Night  Veronica Wilde

I keep looking at anthos I didn't submit to, and thinking Damn, I want to be in that, look at the authors, and now I am VERY happy to be in with my gang. I mean, seriously, look at the lineup. Look at the page sharing love!

Woo yay! Thank you Shanna. I can't wait to see the cover. 

Sunday, August 28, 2011

spelling and spanking

Saturday, August 27, 2011

Beneath Sea and Sky

Available from Smashwords

Oh, such a treat. I just read Shanna's recent ebook, soon to be on kindle too, the very beautiful and inspirational 'Beneath Sea and Sky'. Six tales of magic and longing that are the best thing I've read of hers yet. As always, her characters and language are heart stopping, heart in your mouth beating, painful and beautiful to read. Her ideas and settings are so sharp and clear, and as usual she doesn't stray from the difficult, the blood and gristle, she embraces it and makes it sing.

The standouts for me are Heatsong, an evocative vampire story, Hands of Time, that speaks to me of breaking marriage so clearly I could weep, and the closing The Princess of Silk and Pain, a fairy tale rewrite that is a tour de force.

 Get it! It's a fantastically good collection. The only downside is how it leaves you wondering why you'd bother trying to write anything ever again after reading it...

Monday, August 8, 2011



Saturday, July 30, 2011


It's been a while... Suffused With Heat has been neglected during the birth of, which is more about pictures. Pretty pictures, dirty pictures, silly pictures. Feel free to browse!

Back soon, when I actually have something to say.

Wednesday, July 13, 2011

uninformed judgement

Rachel KB wrote this piece about the blanket judgement of bdsm practitioners that happens so regularly. IT reminded me of a train of thought I'd had while loading shopping into the car the other day.

When your friend tells you they're going to take up running, with a view to completing a marathon, chances are you'll be impressed and supportive. Well, you may think they're crazy and that you would never do that, but you would still think they're impressive. As people get obsessive about their running, and talk about how they are addicted to the endorphin high and can't handle their daily stresses as well without it, we continue to think it's great.

We don't think they're crazy for suffering through the lung burn and muscle spasms and knee damage and all the rest, to get to their goals of endorphin highs and fitness and competition.

Chances are a lot of people who like their sex a little rough don't suffer half as much physically as your average runner. But people are appalled at the thought. And feel free to comment derogatorily about people who enjoy denigration. Ironic!

I do think that fetishes are born out of unmet needs. I suspect that it's even possible to unwrite those fetishes, with a lot of work. However, I don't know that the onus is on kinky people to do that at all. Or that it's necessarily the right thing to do. I'm all for being self aware, but bdsm sex seems to award people such a huge amount of fun and satisfaction. If your fetish doesn't do anyone else any harm and you get something good out of it then... well, I wince more at people in knee bandages running on concrete than I might do at a little creative filthiness.

Monday, July 11, 2011


Female toplessness is legal in a lot of places in the US (although not where I live), and I’d be meeting the letter of the law with a couple of Band-aids. But I have a gut feeling that if I go anywhere that there are people—and particularly anywhere there are children—nobody’s going to be too happy about my Band-aids. The enforcement is social; women just don’t go around topless in the US.

It bothers me because it’s unequal, but it also bothers me in its implications: that my body is inherently sexual, and a man’s body isn’t. It feels like men are being viewed through the first-person lens of “it’s nice to feel the sun on my skin, and I don’t mean anything by it” and women are being viewed through the distinctly third-person lens of “it’s inappropriate for me, a heterosexual man, to see her sexy parts.” It ignores the experiences of people who are turned on by male chests and somehow manage to contain themselves when they see one.

I like this point. It's hard to explain to my kids why half naked men aren't considered naked. Why flat chested little girls have to cover up their chests that are no different to little boys's chests. Sigh. It's all so silly. 
Now I have no urge to go round bra-less and topless myself, quite the opposite, though I have often had dreams in which I suddenly realise I'm out and about in underwear, or topless, and it's usually not as horrifying to me as it would be if I realised I'd gone to work with no top on in real life... but, yeah. 
I confess, though, I have perved at (on?) a tanned and topless muscly builder or two in my time... 

Saturday, July 9, 2011

I had this book!

The clitoris is pure in purpose. It is the only organ in the body designed purely for pleasure. The clitoris is simply a bundle of nerves: 8,000 nerve fibers, to be precise. That’s a higher concentration of nerve fibers than is found anywhere else in the body, including the fingertips, lips, and tongue, and it is twice… twice… twice the number in the penis. Who needs a handgun when you’ve got a semiautomatic.

I think my sister gave it to me. It was excellent. Worth a read.

Friday, July 8, 2011

I had a bruise on my wrist, initially prefectly four sided, from one of the links in my bracelet watch. Little rounded, black and cream art deco squares. Lined up with one, on the side of my wrist, a maroon shape that has spread and  blurred, pressed against the bone. I didn't notice it happen, the metal forced against my skin.

On the back of my other hand, a long dark rectangle, half way down the fourth Metacarpal, intruding on the interplay of bone and vein. I do remember that one. Door handle. I'm so unbalanced, clumsy.

I wish they were yours, these marks. I wish you had given them to me. So I could run my fingers over their colour, press into the tenderness of them and know you'd been there. Feel your touch linger on me. My skin would be a diary, a calendar, mark the days since I was claimed. The change and shape of the memory of you  would blur and spread and fade until I could feel it and see it no more. Until I was new again, and waiting.

Thursday, July 7, 2011

merrrrrmaids :)

Tuesday, July 5, 2011

omg cupcakes!

April Flores... so creamy skinned... 

Sunday, July 3, 2011

A Sommer freebie

A sweet F/F story from Sommer that feels a little different to the other stories of hers I've read. Touches a chord for mothers who've lost a little bit of themselves. 

Thursday, June 30, 2011

a pleasant rejection

I submitted a bit of a half assed story to Kristina's Best Erotic Romance collection a while back, only really because she asked - I was expecting a pretty instant rejection (because there was just no way that was 'best erotic romance' as far as I was concerned) but it kept not coming for ages and ages - then someone else got one and I wondered why I hadn't yet and resisted writing to ask for it :)

Well, it came this morning and it was such a good rejection! The story had been shortlisted and ultimately the balance was tipped for something a bit different, which takes any sting out of the whole thing.

I haven't subbed much, because I am writingly challenged and lazy, perhaps, so this is my first rejection - and as rejections go, I am incredibly happy about it! Kristina is a Thoughtful Editor, and very nice with it and I appreciate it a lot. 

Monday, June 27, 2011

I have to post this

Sorry for the size, I'm sure you can click for big. I love this, if only for the fact that shy Catholic women (and mothers) sometimes refer to their genitalia as 'their Mary' - and now I know why! 

Saturday, June 25, 2011


Now. A confession re political correctness. It's difficult these days - sometimes I do really like things, and then smarter women than I swoop in with words like objectification and sexism and one sort of gaze or another and I do see their point and it makes me think - but it doesn't always stop me liking things.

I think it's good to be aware, better be aware than be one of those dullards who can't see beyond surface significance.

But this looks like fun, nudity needs to be more everyday, I think, and I want to know if they got chased away before they finished the pose. :) 

Wednesday, June 22, 2011

self assured vintage

You'd look happy too... 

...if you had a posterior like mine.

Friday, June 17, 2011


Ha. This makes me laugh:

All these variations on the original are funny, I like the Keep Calm And Eat A Cupcake one too.

The whole Daddy thing used to so not be for me, it just made me squirm, being the pschologically attuned little writer that I am. A little too aware of my own issues to be comfortable with this one.

And yet... as the days go by and life spins further out of control, god help me, the idea is gaining attraction.

Sunday, June 12, 2011


My hands smell of vanilla and whiskey and apples and flour brown sugar and butter and spice. I washed them, but the water's not hot, and why would you want to wash that scent away, anyway?

It's so good. What beauty we have at our disposal.

Soon the crumble aroma will start to float out of the oven and fill the house too, juicy fruit and crisp, spicy sugary topping. I'll whip cream. And we'll chase this rainy day away.

I'll come back with a photo in a bit

Thursday, June 9, 2011

This picture made me think of a story, today, one I wrote and submitted but is hanging in anthology limbo. I didn't get a rejection, but the antho is on hold, I guess... a sad little situation for the book and my story, really. It's about a chase and a hunt and some sex while tied to a tree... hmm, maybe I've said too much.

I didn't realise it at the time, but the flogger that's in the story, most probably looks just like this one. All dark red and pretty.

It's one of those stories where I'm describing things I actually have no idea about - I just sent it to someone who does, to read, and that makes me feel all squirmy. It's hard to explain. I'm not going to, it's hardly appropriate here :)

But god bless my imagination, let's hope it doesn't get me humiliated this time.

I hope that story gets to see the light of day soon, though, I like it. I like the photo too. Is it the shoes? The toy? Her ass? All of the above, I suppose, and her hair and shoulders too.

Tuesday, June 7, 2011

(p)ink sheets

Thursday, June 2, 2011


I have to confess, that I had a habit of doodling the occasional penis when I was in school. I don't find myself doing it any more, now that I think about it. I hope I wasn't alone in that teen habit... 

Saturday, May 21, 2011

dressing gowns

For some reason I keep writing women in dressing gowns. Silk ones. I don't quite know why. There must be a robe in there somewhere. We don't really say robe here, but dressing gown always sounds so old-mannish or little boy at boarding school. And I'm going for something far more silky and sensual than that.

What's the right word?

science of boobies

I could watch all day! Not just the boob ripples and the beautiful face, but the way the water holds its shape  after the balloon breaks. 

Friday, May 20, 2011


click for big?

Friday, May 13, 2011

So. So... here is an instructional video on how to turn a woman into a giggling multi orgasmic jelly. Nudity and orgasm warning*

Now, um. I have to confess I don't know anything about coming like this, sadly. I'm for it, as you can imagine, but I don't know... doesn't the guy seem a little ... Christian about it? A little messianic? A bit of a G-sus, if you will...

Leader Leader Leader Leader, Leader!

Maybe it's just that he's got Kool-Aid, too...

Sunday, May 8, 2011

Hot Fuck Sundae

Light 'n' shade, dears. 

Tuesday, May 3, 2011


Woo, and hoo! I have glad tidings to report. They are this

And the fact that I'm in the lineup! I can't wait to see who else is, and I'm so happy to be there. I think this will be a fun one. I nearly threw in the towel on this story, and I'm so glad I persevered, and learned a lesson about just doing it. It won't always work, but it paid off this time.

Steampunk, it's so pretty, I lived in a world of coppery, vibrant colour and great boots for a couple weeks, writing this. My story's called Undergrounded: Hannah Hawthorne and the Stranded Time Ship. And you can pre-order your copy here

Sunday, May 1, 2011

Good things Coming

I have had some hopeful news, of late, and this is good. More to say soon, I hope! 

Monday, April 25, 2011

Do not get on this bus

It's Sexual Assault Awareness Month, I think I saw. I was trying to think of something to write about that, but this caught my eye before I managed it, so it's going to do, for now. 

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

Ugh, writing. The self critical voice is a useful one, no doubt, but not always when you're in the middle of trying to write something you know isn't the best, but the voice in your head that second guesses every word choice makes you so paranoid you can't actually make it any better. Gah! The Cheese Factor, it's a literary tar pit.

Saturday, April 16, 2011

When the shark bites, when the bee stings...

M from

Favourite guilty pleasure, srsly. Though I don't even feel guilty. He's so endearing and entertaining.

I mean, come on:

Anonymous asked: So.....
Even though I know it's most likely impossible for you to be my calculus teacher, I can no longer look at him the same way again......You guys are sooooo similar, it's uncanny.....But hey, now I go to class everyday. I pay close attention to his lips when he talk (mostly because I want them alll over me now) and watch his fingers when he points......So....being slightly obsessed with you is helping me pass calculus......
I am totally your calculus teacher and you should totally confront me about being sexy on the Internet.

That makes me happy, reading that. 

And this makes me happy too, the little adorable sweetie pants.

And then there was the post by his friend, who said that his readers only know the naughty bits, they don't know how he gives her hugs and kisses her on the forehead each time they meet.

All the expert cunnilingus sounds great, like, but I have to say at this point in my life, the thing I keep coming back to is the idea of getting kissed on the forehead.

You're safe, M, about 5 people read this blog, so no more fame explosion will befall you. But thank you for the cheer you bring to my day. 

Thursday, April 14, 2011

Tuesday, April 12, 2011

hot fuck sunday

Oh, it's not Sunday? Ah well. I have to try and write some Romance. Without any theme or prompt. I hate that. Someone tell me what to write about?

Kristina's writing romance with a gangbang. Sigh. I tend to fall into this pit of sappiness I don't necessarily want to explore when I try and write romance. Then I struggle out of the Happy Ever After ending dripping with the syrup of it and desperately trying to wipe myself clean.

But worse than that is that when I'm confronted with the idea of having to write a story without a theme or title, I am met with a terrible blankness. 'What I did on my Summer Holidays', anyone? I'd better go stick a fork in the ass of my imagination. Er, not in its ass. I don't think that's quite what romance is about. This could be why I'm more comfortable with erotica :) 

Thursday, April 7, 2011


I was having a little self indulgent weepy moment.

And then  I saw this, and it made me cackle out loud.


Friday, April 1, 2011


The concept of vajazzling makes me chortle. Ad does the phrase 'vajazzle your vajayjay'. Every time.  People get so scornful about it too. It's funny. I saw the above photo posted ironically the other day, in a post by a mommy blogger planning a new craftroom in the room of the eldest daughter who had flown the nest. One commenter was sarcastic about how authentic her smile looked.

And then a little later I had a sudden flashback! To the pornographic novel I found in my parents' bookshelf, which I recognised as fairly classic, and had an early prototype vajazzling scene within that I had completely forgotten about. I had to Wikki it to find the title because it was gone, gone, I couldn't quite reach it. One of those ones about turning a bored housewife into an ever-ready-for-it whore, you know the way. Of course it was Emanuelle and it had a scene where she goes to a party to get gangbanged, but first they take her away and dress her in filmy diaphanous white and painstakingly attach tiny pearl beads to each and every one of her pubic hairs! Ha! I thought, as I remembered that detail. Vajazzling is not new! Then I wondered how they do it now that nobody has pubes anymore. With a hot glue gun, it must be.

Of course it is! And this photo explains the smile - she was doing an educational photo shoot!

Lord, I'd forgotten about Emanuelle. That was educational.

I will leave you with a little soupcon of the entertainment the internet has to offer.


Thursday, March 31, 2011


She's putting on her scarf, over her turquoise coat, wrapping herself up in yards of its softness. She feels my gaze, mid twist, and looks at me, eyes sparkling. 'What?' But she sees my smile. She knows what.
'What?' she whispers, as I tip her face up to kiss her. Her lips are soft and her face is warm. I take the end of the scarf and finish winding it around her neck, wondering if I flicked it in the other direction would she spin like a top until I'd unwrapped her.

'You know what.' She shakes her head, fluffing her hair out over the scarf, peeping in the mirror, picking up her hat. I nod, deliberately.

'You think I look cute.' I nod. 'You like me.' I nod again, and smile. And wait. 'You love me and I make your heart glad.' I take her face in my hands and I kiss her again, stroke her face.

'And you're beautiful.' She goes the sweetest shade of pink, and the happiness in her smile is more reward than I could ask for.

When she comes back, her cheeks will be flushed from walking in the cold, her nose will be red and I'll unwrap her then, the gloves, the hat, the loops of gold and turquiose scarf that her eyes and hair glow against. The winter coat. It's just her nose that will be cold, I know, the rest of her will be hot from walking all bundled up, and from coming home to me.

Tuesday, March 29, 2011

When did you find your clitoris?


Succinct little statement there.

I was 14. Must have been ignited with intuitive drive as it was after watching Young Guns. Or was it Young Guns 2? Either way. The heat! Like a flash fire, or whatever the expression is. We don't have that sort of extreme weather event here. We certainly didn't then either, as no one else found it for years, and I wasn't able to point them to it, somehow.

'Where do you like to be touched?'

'Um, here?'

'That's a funny place.'

Bless him.


'Do you frig yourself?'

Me: Well (debates teaching three drunk boys in a dark garden about female masturbation, at age 15), yes.

Best friend: No.

Yeah, right, Vicki.

And yay for the big colouring book of vulvas. It should be in schools.

Saturday, March 26, 2011

Hot Fuck Sundae!

When I first saw this picture, what attracted me was the Adam and Eve nature of it. But then I thought, no, that's actually Adam and Steve, isn't it? Either way, cute ass creases :)

Here's a sweet site: Happy Naked People - if it was mine, I wouldn't be able to resist adding captions - 'he's happy because he can lift his bike over his head'.

Monday, March 21, 2011

pet peeve

Oh my god.

For fuck's sake. That's not a big colouring book of vaginas. No. As I might have said before, it's a big colouring book of vulvas. VULVAS. Shout it out loud. Why does this annoy me so much? I suppose it's because people manage not to get confused between the words for testicles and penis. Or maybe because the world at large is still completely ignorant about female anatomy and they don't care about what a clitoris is, or how it works. No, it's all about the vagina, and basic male pleasure, and reproduction. Vulva? Huh? Bah!

Aside from that little ranty rant, it's a worthy project, or at least seems so from the sweet reviews I browsed through at the start. I love the idea of women sitting at home, happily colouring in vulvas in a book their partner bought them.

Saturday, March 19, 2011


She's on her knees for him, working hard, reaching for his hips and he slides his fingers into her soft hair and grips, pushes her harder, takes away her choice that little bit more. Her mouth is wet and hot and so willing, her throat a tight treat that makes his own breath catch. He knows how each little gag puts pressure on her cunt, milks the cream out more. Her nipples are hard, her smooth breasts bounce.

She's drifting, so used, so wet, focused on air, and trying to keep a seal and follow the rhythm she can't set anymore. Her knees spread wider and the pulse pounds in her pussy. The pain in her scalp burns warm, the sound of his breath sings to her.

The dance continues, while she pretends she's giving and he pretends he's taking and the world shrinks to just that one high ceilinged room.

Thursday, March 10, 2011


This photo holds a warm place in my heart.

Someone put wings on that cabbage fairy!

The size of that leaf just cracks me up. Aw!

Found at The Thickness

Saturday, February 26, 2011

A dark and dirty muffin lament

Oh, my poor muffin

It could do with some stuffin'

A creamy fillin'

From some custardy villain

With plenty to spare

It's so unfulfillin'

To be unfilled but willin'

The future holds nuffin'

No hope for my muffin

Just stale despair.

With a nod of thanks to D, for inpiring this poem through muffin discussion. You're a-muse-ing!



Wednesday, February 2, 2011

Messing It Up, a not quite date rape story

I’ve been lucky. I never got attacked by anyone, never found myself scared and picked on by a man, or intimidated, or whatever. Never was in a situation I couldn’t handle, except perhaps when I was still 12 or so, and some scumbag guy who hung round the school bus stop freaked me out by harassing me in a cheerful and complimentary way to the extent that I asked my oblivious mother for a lift home (she totally refused and didn’t pursue why, I’m sorry to say). He drifted away though, thankfully, far less involved in the situation than I was.

There was this one thing, though, that I didn’t quite know how to term at the time. Well, I did, really, but I suppose I wasn’t assertive enough to. Well, I was and I wasn’t, but there was a lot of classic self doubt involved.

My best friend’s brother was in his early twenties, I think, when we were in our teens. He was older, cooler, funny, irreverent. She was just starting to get on with him on a more adult basis, I think. He was full of jokes and stories and attitude, and I liked him. One day I was alone with him in her house and he kissed me, and I was totally buzzed by the attention and the fact that he was attracted to me. I was maybe 15 by then. Maybe a little younger.

I think I probably gave him the odd knowing glance, after that, flirted a little, made him uncomfortable at the non alcoholic church discos we went to by asking him to dance, in public.
I don’t think anything else happened until one morning, when my friend had gone off somewhere, leaving me asleep in her room, and David appeared and got into bed with me. He got on top of me, and kissed me and rubbed himself against me. I protested, cheerfully, said, David, stop, I don’t want to do this, I have a boyfriend!

And he said, so?, and rubbed a little more, but then got up and went away. And then I realised my legs were wet, and could tell by the pungent and alarming smell of spunk that he’d come on me.

That was a little freaky. I told my friend about it at some point, and she was upset, apologetic, angry with him. I don’t know if she ever said anything to him.

Then a year or so later, I was at her house, for her birthday, and didn’t make it to the last bus. He offered to bring me home, and I didn’t want him to, but didn’t have much choice. I can remember asking my friend to come to, and she said no, so what could I do?

He drove up to the top of their lane, pulled the car over and kissed me. And I didn’t say, no, stop, take me home, please. I suppose I was happy enough for the attention, the little bit of affection, hey, even the pleasure of having someone to touch and be touched by for a little while. So I asked him to take me for a drink for a bit of Dutch courage, and he did, in a manky, old man pub in Kilcoole. Then he drove me closer to where I lived, turned down the quiet little dark lane by the church (Church Lane, that is) and we got a bit naked. Which was ok with me. And then he got on top of me, and started trying to penetrate me.

Which wasn’t ok with me. I was still sixteen at this stage, I’m fairly sure, I’d only slept with my one boyfriend, and wasn’t ready to start having casual actual sex just yet. I turned that corner fairly soon after, but hadn’t yet. I told David this, but he kept on trying. ‘I can’t get it in’, he gasped, pushing hard against me.

‘That’s because I’m trying really hard to keep you out,’ I explained, clenching my pc muscles together in a sterling effort to keep myself unpenetrated by his distinctly un-condom covered cock.

At that he relaxed his efforts, and gave up.

And, what did I do? Well, I gave him a blow job. Yeah. I kind of wish I hadn’t now, especially as afterwards, the premature ejaculating bastard rolled over and smeared his come all over my stomach and crotch, so that when I went home, I once again realised my underwear was damp with semen, scrubbed myself clean in fear and spent however many days ‘til my next period terrified I might have experienced an immaculate conception.

Before that realisation, however, he drove me home and as we sat outside the house in the car, my father walked inside after looking piercingly into the car.
‘There’s your dad,’ said David.

‘Yes,’ I agreed, ‘and you know what he’d do to you.’ David laughed and nodded ruefully.

‘David,’ I said, ‘what do you call it when you have try to have sex with someone you know doesn’t want to?’

‘I know, I know,’ he interrupted me.

‘No, really, what do you call it?’

‘Rape,’ he offered, with a sigh, and I’m glad I made him say it, proud of myself for getting the point across, even in the confusion and blame of myself for being accessory to it, for not saying no, for getting him to buy me a drink, for wanting a little intimacy, just not the whole thing, not the actual sex-sex, just a little bit of sex and closeness.

And then I went in and found myself doused in his semen, and felt dirtied by the hostile act of his smearing it on me, wiping himself off on me, as what, punishment for not letting him fuck me? I don’t really know, I didn’t understand about that sort of gesture then, but I know it was aggressive, and soiling, and that the fear of an unwanted teenage pregnancy rested solely on my shoulders for a little while.

I made another mistake and told my friend again, and this time she was angry with me, for encouraging him to have a drink while driving, and endangering him. She didn’t say she was angry with me for being a slut, for agreeing to fool around with him, for wanting something but not everything out of the encounter. She wasn’t sorry for not coming too when I’d asked her to, just annoyed with me for putting her brother in this situation and then calling date-rape-attempt I suppose. I think that was pretty much the end of our friendship, which had been so intense, and dwindled away after that. There was other stuff too, other mistakes, but I suspect that was the major one.

As far as bad experiences go, this one was mild, I suppose. I was ... lucky? A little more self esteem and self respect could have prevented it, too. He was really not very attractive. Skinny and spotty and prematurely balding. Just kind of charismatic. I saw on Facebook he got married recently. I wonder if he grew up and got better at it all. I wonder if I did.

Monday, January 31, 2011


To revisit an older topic, who the hell is waxing their 8 year old daughters???

Found here, on a post about a song favoured by Danielle.

Saturday, January 29, 2011

Eat Me for free this weekend

Free Smut for the discerning reader! Roll up!

Get yourselves to All Romance, and nab a free copy of Eat Me this weekend.

Why not?

Throw a wee review up afterwards if you feel moved to. I only have a teeny wee tidbit of a bon bon of an introduction in here, but you've got a classic Shanna Germaine story of sweet awakening, and a naughty little strap on vegetable romp from Shanna as well as lots of great others. Go for it!

Thursday, January 27, 2011

Holy Hot Fuck

How to knot a tie.

I don't know how to embed it! Maybe it only works on Tumblrs? Watch it! Now! NSFW!


Oh yes you are.

Saturday, January 22, 2011


'We're playing 'Secret Spanker!' my small son announced, as he bounced round the bed, giggling with his sister.

Is that a little like Secret Santa?

I see marketing potential. Perhaps there should be more spanking holidays.

**ugh, have to stop looking for a nice festive spanking pic on google, images is full of nasty pics of violence against children that totally harsh my buzz. Shudder.

Thursday, January 13, 2011

I'm sure it's just me...

But 'I understand and I wish to continue' seems to scan in the same way as 'Thank you, Sir, may I please have another?'
I was going to find an appropriate picture for that, but then I google imaged the blog instead of searching for it and I got a beautiful collage of all my pictures I've used in the first couple pages. Pretty.
Some of them aren't mine, and it's fun working out which - like the sardines, for example. Suffused with Fish is not what we're after.

Saturday, January 8, 2011

new bra!

'Tis purple.

While I was away a while ago, I had to go buy a new bra. Sainsury's drapery is a wonderland of clothes, and kids' dalek costumes (so sweet!) and nice underwear. Not like Tesco.

My sensible friend insisted I try it on and off I went, wondering why a man was standing buy his trolley, staring at me.

Then I realised I was striding through the supermarket purposefully, unbuttoning my coat while holding a pink embroidered black DD bra in front of me.


Wednesday, January 5, 2011


Creamy shoulders and spilling-out boobies. You have to love it, don't you?