Utah 'utes' fan

In response to a comment I made on his blog Uglyblackjohn suggested I might improve the look of a ute's fan by wearing stockings and suspenders. I like a challenge so this weekend found me keenly interested in their match against the BYU cougars.



At the end of the fourth quarter the scores were level and so the match went into overtime. I had trouble watching as the minutes counted down.



I wouldn't have been the only fan watching that felt like this at the end with a 26 - 23 loss to BYU, only the ute's third loss of the season.

slutty behaviour

Today was one of those days when for an obscure reason I felt slutty. It showed as I dressed and began with a push-up bra that makes even my small titties wobble provocatively. The stockings were black, fully fashioned seamed nylon, unmistakably stockings not pantyhose. Another pair of ruffled panties (they must be the latest fashion) this time in chiffon, they made a very noticeable line in the tight fitting dress. Heels completed the sexy look.

Dressing slutty is one thing, acting it is another.

Unfortunately I couldn't do it. Sitting in an aisle seat on the train I thought about a post of darkmoonheart where T made her sit with her knees separated by 12", measured by ruler. I tried to do it then and I tried to do it again today. It is just so slutty, so obvious that you want your stocking tops and panties to be viewed. My knees were resolute in parting no more than 6".

I had to rein in my slutty moves and keep them to walking ahead of men with a confident sway of the hips.

Pantie show

I fell in love with this pair of girly, ruffled cotton panties when I saw them in the store. So different to any other I possess. With the ruffles adding volume I am very aware of my hips swaying as I walk and the cotton flexes against my pussy quite delightfully. However these panties have made me think about knicker elastic, a subject that Du Pont put on the back burner with it's release of Lycra. I can recall reading about the catastrophic failure of knicker elastic in the books I read as a child but it was already a historic problem. With these panties however there is a real risk that one day I will suffer that ignominous event. These panties have real knicker elastic in a narrow casing around the hips. I am certain that one day as I walk along the street I will be filled with horror as my panties slip down to my knees.

I hope your imagination is all fired up. Wearing them, removing them for a spanking, tasting them, pushing them aside to fuck, wanting me to pee in them, there is such an endless list of erotic varieties to our kinks and one pretty pair of panties.

piercing thoughts

The urge for another piercing grows. Perhaps it is due to the question that always arises when the nipple piercings are viewed. The assumption that one precedes the other. Clitoris, clitoral hood, triangle, labia only the piercer would know which I could receive. I wonder how it would feel as the piecing needle punctures my skin to slide though and create a conduit for the ring. The stunning sensation when the nipples were pierced must surely be increased with a genital piercing where the number of nerves is so much greater. I am sure I would have to meditate into a calm state to endure it.

Would it increase or decrease the thrilling sensations that I feel in my clitoris. When I am demented with need I should like a device that reduces the feeling in my clitoris but certainly do not need something that would enhance it.

I sit here and try to imagine the effects of a ring or a bar rubbing against my panties as I walk or when I sit. I slip one hand under my skirt to touch myself with my fingers and the other into my bra to feel my nipple. My panties are damp following a day of lustful thinking and pulling on the ring elicits a sharp sting. Yes if there was a ring in my pussy I would feel it, the difference in sensation is extreme.

left handed masturbation

Amazing as it seems to me today I celebrate the second anniversary of this blog. When I began I thought I had enough to say for six months instead ideas continue to flow although not always as easily as I would want. In that time I have gained much pleasure from the comments so generously made by readers and sometimes a little much needed reflection has followed. The addition of followers certainly helps to keep me posting and I love to view their profiles and find out a little more about them.

I ran through quite a few ideas for this posting and finally settled on masturbation. I recently read a post about this on discerningdom's blog and was intrigued to read that most women use their right hands for masturbation. True the majority of women are right handed so this should not be surprising but he suggested it was a good task to set a submissive woman. I took that idea away and decided to try it.

In the mid afternoon I lay on my bed with sunshine warming me. It felt quite natural for my left hand to begin stroking my pussy lips, sliding fingers between them and then drawing them together but after a few minutes my arm tired at the unusual position of it stretched down my body. Never the less I continued and let a fantasy grow in my mind. My pussy grew, got wetter and slicker as the fantasy became deeper and more perverse.

My right hand moved to replace the left, metaphorically I had to rap my knuckles and tell it to go away as it was unwanted. I slid it under my back to hold it down so the left hand could continue uninterrupted. Orgasm flowed under my fingers, blossomed in my clit. My mind started yelling, it felt left out, there was NO answering orgasm in my mind. The left side of my brain had not received the hit it was accustomed to.

How curious.

I've read books on using the right side of the brain to increase creativity and they have always stressed using the left hand to write and draw. Would my creativity grow if my left hand was always used for masturbation, would my fantasies take off in vastly different directions. It certainly did have an effect on my brain's response. Are there any MRI technicians out there that would like to compare the brain response of right and left handed masturbation I think I just have to put my hand up and say USE ME.

Hogtie

No it wasn't all fucking last time we met. There was a case full of implements for Master to choose from to torment me with. Crop, paddle, whip were at the top and first out but other items followed. The crop was not Master's favorite which my body has become familiar with, as that is too long to fit in the case, but one I had bought as a prop. So it had never been used and I learned the difference between worn leather and hard, brisk new leather. It felt odd with just the outlines stinging but in the days that followed those outlines continued to sting. As the night drew on Master returned again and again to that crop, it seemed to fit so neatly into his hand.


When he pushed me down onto my belly and raised my legs I knew what was coming. My arms curved back as I presented my hands to him and the hogtie began. Would it be sacrilegious to say that I don't get a static hogtie? A suspended hogtie yes I do understand with its easy access to the interesting points of the captured one. Static poses so many access problems and I worry about my dead weight as it is moved around to enable Master to probe, tease or use different parts of my body. Even so I like to be bound so hard in the hogtie and lose freedom so completely. To become dependent and utterly at his disposal.

Fuckbunnie

Yes I do apologize for being crude and I do mean fuckbunnie not fucktoy or fuckdoll. It came to me as I neared the end of a long night in the relentless hands of Master. All I could think about were bunnies in the spring, copulating madly in the paddocks. A passion without boundaries driven by nature.

It began in the afternoon, proceeded to dinner, resumed after dinner until sleep claimed us for a few hours. Demands for a sleepy doll to wake and work her magic in the dark of the night, before our shower, would have been after the shower but I demanded and got breakfast, concluded after breakfast.

It wasn't all fucking.

He did rub on my nipples, that makes me come.
He did lap at my clit, that makes me come.
His fingers did penetrate my ass, that makes me come.

I did act like a weasel and keep offering to suck his dick. Sometimes he agreed and I bought myself a little breathing space. But then I would hear it "I need to fuck you again".

Well at the outset I didn't think there would be any need to count how many times I came so I can't tell you. It would have been a ridiculously high number. The time arrived when I only knew I was cumming from the strange autonomic movements of my wrists, the weird little sounds that issued from my mouth and his gleeful "you're nice and wet again". Numb, totally Numb.

Heaven, when the final cataclysmic slam of his hips against my ass was followed by our tumbling together in a powerful embrace.