Saturday, 26 June 2010

Princess Parody

Will The Breakfast Club ever be the same again...?  An XXX Parody:

Thanks to The Frisky!

Back in the Saddle

My first date in a long while.  My first date with someone I hadn't already had sex with in a long while...

The night before

I defuzzed, preened and conditioned.  I selected which clothes I would wear; cotton stockings, a (lucky) linen dress, small heels and my favourite earrings.

As I went to bed, I was thinking about my date, thoughts quickly turned to fantasies, I moaned his name as I quickly came to orgasm.  What is that about?!  Incorporating a new man into my fantasies so quickly, I imagined what he would look like naked, feel like and how he would enter me.  Well, it did the trick!

That morning

Instead of getting up early, I overslept by an hour, I rushed into the shower, slipped on some smart black jeans, with a cute t-shirt and went to work.  What happened to the lucky dress and stockings?!  In the rush I had forgotten that I even had a date that night, never mind what I had planned to wear.

The date

I got there early, he was late, and almost immediately any chemistry had evaporated.  He complimented me on my shoes, but followed it with a comment how girls shouldn't wear jeans.  I looked down at my own denim-clad legs and wondered if he meant my outfit. I bored myself, I couldn't seem to make conversation and kept it going with repetitive questioning.  Eventually I got it together, but any would-be-cute-innuendos sounded crass.

The kiss

At the end of the night, I was drunk.  Nervously I had managed to drink a bottle of wine, without dinner.  I wasn't slurring, but I was teetering...   We said goodnight and I went in for the safe peck on the cheek.

I've forgotten how to flirt?!  HELP!

Monday, 21 June 2010

Who's the boss?

Although I have never dallied with the management, chances are - I will fancy a male boss.  Fancy is too strong a word, maybe crush is more appropriate.  It seems I can't help but admire an authority figure in a suit:

The Bashful Boss

Almost apologetic in nature, yet made of stern stuff when needed.  It must have been a couple of months before I saw him laugh, well actually, made him laugh and that was all that was needed for him to soften in my eyes.  I would defend colleagues' boring boss jibes,  as he wasn't, he was just cripplingly shy.

The Gay Boss

Even the gay boss!  He was highly-sexed, confident and always smelled incredible, mesmerising even.  There was one embarrassing phone call, when my opinion was 'lovely' and he thought I said 'love you'...

The Old Boss

Not quite collecting his pension, but at least 30 years my senior.  Success teamed with kind eyes, and a gorgeous smile and inner-assuredness that was so very attractive.

The Hot Boss

Conventionally good looking.  The protagonist of many a dirty dream.  Strong, charismatic, energy like a kid in a toy shop, unfortunately no attention span to speak of.  We were often mistaken for a romantic couple, that is our 'married banter' was.

The First Boss

He was a dynamic. Although our relationship was professional, I never thought that our chemistry was anything more than him being nice and friendly, and during the winter months, he used to give me lifts home.  Looking back, he must have have thought that there was something in the lifts, as he didn't want his girlfriend to know?! 

Saturday, 19 June 2010

Richard III

The moment I stepped into his office, I wanted him.

The feeling of attraction almost seemed alien.  I not only fancied Richard III, I liked him, I was interested in him. I was drawn to him like a moth to a flame.  Of course, I hoped he wasn't aware of the moth to a flame business.

He's funny, tall, dark and handsome.  Tick, tick, tick and tick.  Strong, confident and intelligent.  Tick, tick, tick.

Later that evening, I blurted out to a friend that I fancied someone, like it was something new and noteworthy!

Yesterday came the crunch.  He was wearing a ring.  On the third finger.  Of this left hand.

Before I could even add him to the special place in my ladyplaybank, and taking into consideration my experiences with the two married men - Mr Married and Mr Smith, I am putting the blinkers on and adding him firmly into the 'friend' category.

It's nice to know however, that the butterflies of fancying someone is still possible!

Analyse This

I've just awoken from my monthly dream about Quiet Boy.

It's not sexual, nor loving.  I've given up trying to analyse what it means and put it down to mere processing.  

Yet, in the haziness of 04:55 in the morning, where normally a ladyplay would put me gently back to sleep, (I tried, it didn't!), I think warmly of my time with him, but not warmly enough that I would actually want to be back with him...  

Monday, 14 June 2010

Unsolicited advice

AV Flox's mother's grandmother once gave her a piece of unsolicited advice: if you want to cheat on your husband, don't worry, just dispose of your underwear.

A quick canvass of my own matriarchal influences:

- Not to trust a man with a first name for a surname. What does that say about David Cameron?!
- Not to trust a man who dyes his hair.
- Forgive everything, forget nothing.
- Have affairs with the men you love, marry the man that loves you.

Unsolicited advice courtesy of Oscar Wilde:
"Arguments are to be avoided: they are always vulgar and often convincing."

Big pants, big pants, BIG pants

So when I say I was depressed, I was just that.  Depressed, deflated, desensitised, debilitated and devalued and above all, dosed.

Quietly, I made my excuses from polite society.  Being a busy person, no one questions when you can't make an event; whether it be a coffee, a weekend away or a quick fuck at the end of the night.

My life, like my hair, had transformed from teased to comfortable.

Eyebrows were left unshaped, heels had been replaced by trainers, legs left unwaxed.  Somewhere between a wax appointment being cancelled and full-blown hibernation came BIG PANTS.  I don't mean spanx or similar practical support pants, and I had to purposefully buy them.  Think massive y-fronts belonging to an old man, but on me.

I didn't want to go out, I wanted to stay at home with DVD box sets, fuelled near-exclusively by over-priced chocolate. I couldn't bear to be naked with anyone, but that didn't seem to bother me, because I was safe, cosy and had purchased a new vibrator.

Then came the Spring Bank Holiday and an impromptu invite to an extremely saucy night. Without hesitation, the invite made my clit quiver.  A quick trip to the beauty salon and a fancy dress shop was all it took for my libido to reinstate the reins!

From now on, I will always associate big pants with that feeling of anxiety.

Sunday, 13 June 2010

World Cup Wonders

In the short time since World Cup 2010 kicked off, and already my testosterone levels have at least quadrupled.

My love of footballers and football fans aside for just a moment, men are glowing.

Even after a disappointing draw against Team USA, pubs are full of animated men, wanting to use the power of statistics to explain the possibility for England's World Cup win.  Yes, I do realise, that the last *cough* only England team to bring home the Jules Rimet drew their first match in 1966...

The winning formula seems to be men + football = happy men.

Here's to more football! (Although only if that does not include any more news reports of Robert Green's howler)

Make like a tree and leave

Yesterday morning was a perfect example of why I don't like men staying at mine, even less so on a Friday and/or Saturday night.

How do you politely ask someone to leave?

I am reminded of when I was seeing an ex, The Rambler, he would know my work schedule and when I had a day off, he would want to hang out. 

One time, he just wouldn't take the hint. Not wanting to upset him, yet not wanting to spend the day with him, I said I had been called into work. Still, he didn't take the hint. 

In the end, I walked to the tube station with him in the pretence of going to work, only for him to wait for a tube for me - oh, what a lovely gent he was - not only was I dressed for work, I was now on my way to work! I got the tube one stop, and then returned home to bed. 

I was going to say I couldn't imagine doing that now that I'm older and more assertive, except I sort of did just that yesterday.

My excuse: I had an beauty appointment to get to, eventually. Finally, we both left mine. Him, to go home. Me, to go for a facial, three hours early!

While I was sleeping...

The funny thing about being depressed is - I am completely oblivious of it until it's over.

Usually my response to stress is sex, masturbation and sex, sleeping and sex. Sex.

The near-endless hospital visits left me feeling physically deflated and mentally exhausted.  My libido was still in place, yet the social skills required to be intimate with a man less so.  Hibernation is my go-to.

As of a fortnight ago, I am getting my strength back. I am noticing men again, my eyes flitting towards bulging crotches, blushing if I get caught, wry smiles have replaced the look of fatigue.