Pictionary prick tease
I was speaking to Gillian on the phone, last night. She was really pumped up. Her live show had something like 350 viewers, and at least 50 of them were playing prick-tease Pictionary with her.
If you know how to play Pictionary – and who doesn’t – then you’ll get the idea. Gillian would draw a picture and whoever was first to guess the phrase it depicted won the right to ask her to do something. Well, Gillian anticipated lots of request for showing her boobs, oiling herself up, playing with a dildo – but some of the guys wanted weird stuff. I’m not even going to tell you what some of these pervs were asking for – I don’t want that sort of search traffic!!
But she said that overall it was a positive experience. It helped to boost her confidence.
She’s got a new boyfriend, Rob, and he moderated the chat room for her. He banned anybody who went too far.
But she said the best thing of all was when some guy requested that her boyfriend give her the finger. Well, she wasn’t too sure at first, still being a bit of a cam newbie, but she said that once Rob started playing with her clit and stroking her nipples, she completely relaxed. It went on for about 5 minutes and she came on camera. The chat room was going crazy with loads of unmoderated comments about how they were jerking off and typing with one hand.
Gillian’s doing her show on a site that’s in beta-testing at the moment, so she can’t charge anything. But she’s building an audience for when it goes live.
I think she’ll do well.
Anything goes at parties
Let’s assume that the built-in drives of human existence are designed to
- encourage us to reproduce
- nurture our young
What about parties?
Yeah.
It might sound trivial. But what about them?
For the most part, parties fall outside the genetic prerogative. There’s no incumbent need to reproduce. And we certainly don’t expect to produce any young.
Does this mean that anything goes at parties?
Shaving foam – is it sexy?
Wow.
I’ve just been watching a live webcam show which was so wacky I couldn’t wait to tell you about it.
The performer was a peroxide-blonde BBW. I’d guess she’s in her early 60s.
If you saw her on the street you’d imagine that sex was the farthest thing from her mind. Without putting too fine a point on it, she’d strike you as an ugly, toothless hag whose days as a sex object must surely be long gone, if they ever existed.
But no.
She regularly attracts a loyal band of fans. They love her. Some want to marry her. They all want to bone her.
And get this. The part of her show which they all wait for, dick in hand, is where she daubs shaving foam on her face, tits, belly and pussy. I could almost hear the frenzy of wanking that accompanied this weird spectacle. And once the foam had been applied she sat and stared into the camera, her face squashed in toothless concentration, her straggly hair framing her fluffy, white beard.
And then she was gone. Show over.
That’s an unusual fetish. Isn’t it?
PS (several hours later) Just gone back to her site and she’s showing streaming vids of sexual violence against women. That alone is reason enough for me to not publicise her links. That’s bad.
Car talk
Yesterday, I had to take my car to the garage. Some sort of electrical fault was affecting the lighting system.
I never go out of my way to dress provocatively, but short of wearing an over-sized overcoat there’s not a lot that I can do to hide my natural curviness.
Naturally, I was very careful to not do a “Britney” when getting out of the car, but even so I felt that all eyes were on my legs as I emerged. Grease-monkeys are so blatant. And then came the wolf-whistles. In all honesty, I can’t complain. In a way it’s embarrassing, but overall I accept it as a compliment.
When I explained to this guy, called Joe, about the problem with the lights he made several references to my “nice big headlamps” while casting his eyes down at my breasts. Each reference elicited a host of chuckles from the other mechanics, all of whom had stopped working to make sure they didn’t miss anything.
I’m glad to say that Joe soon had the problem sorted out. Apparently there was corrosion in one of the light fittings which was causing an earthing problem. Joe made a big show of cleaning it out with a small piece of emery paper and a rigid finger. The probing action was all too familiar, and very effective.
One final morsel of innuendo ensued when Joe wiped his greasy fingerprints off the car’s paintwork. He noticed a couple of stone-chips and said that he’d be pleased to “touch-up my bodywork”. That caused a few laughs.
All that dirty talk got to me. As soon as I arrived home I felt like I needed a good seeing-to. I set to work with my BIG vibrator. It’s a brute. Joe could probably beat panels with it. I slipped that beauty in and for the next forty minutes I was bringing myself off like there was no tomorrow. I was thinking of you.
God. I need a man. I wonder if Joe’s available? Perhaps I’ll ask him how much he charges for a service?
Washing machine orgasm
Hey chaps. This will work for you, too.
The next time your washing machine revs up and goes into its full spin cycle, press yourself up against it and treat your genitals to an 1100rpm vibro-massage.
I tried it this morning and it brought me off in no time.
I’ve got two loads of washing lined up for tomorrow.
Another Saturday night
It’s another Saturday night and I ain’t got nobody ……..
So goes the song.
Truth is I don’t feel like being with anyone tonight. I’ve had several invites, but declined them all. I just don’t feel like being sociable. Perhaps I’m going down with something.
I don’t even feel like writing this entry.
I hope your Saturday night will be more exciting.
I’m in bed, stark bollock naked, with an open bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon on my bedside table.
I’m going to have a glass or two and see what happens. I’ll either fall asleep or bring out the toys.
Think of me if you knock one out. I’ll be thinking of you.
Banana nirvana
I try to live a healthy lifestyle and most days I manage to eat the recommended 5-a-day (that’s fruit and vegetables, not cocks – naughty boy!!).
Yesterday I started with a banana.
I’d taken some fruit to bed the previous night for snacking on while I watched a film, but the film was so boring I fell asleep without eating anything. Probably just as well because fruit isn’t the best thing to have inside you last thing at night.
But I’ll tell you what. If you’re into deep penetration, a banana’s good to have inside you first thing in the morning.
Don’t ask me why I did it, because I don’t know. It’s not something I’ve ever done before.
It was simply a case of looking at the thing and thinking – how would it feel?
Well, I’m more than happy to say that it felt fucking great. If they ever manage to grow a vibrating banana it’ll be the world’s most popular fruit!
My first spontaneous nocturnal orgasm
You guys know all about wet dreams. At a certain age it’s nothing unusual for your ball sac to empty itself during sleep. I’ve heard that it’s very enjoyable, if a little messy. And that the stiff sheets can be hard to explain to your mother (as if she didn’t know the truth!!).
Well, you might not be aware of this but us girls too can have spontaneous nocturnal orgasms. Yeah. Generally speaking we have ours only after having experienced the real thing. For guys it’s a phase borne out of immaturity and is thus more of a prelude to real sex.
In Mediaeval times it was put about that demons known as incubi had sex with women while they slept.
If that’s true, I can tell you that those little fuckers are alive and well because last night I creamed my pyjamas without flicking a finger.
Sweet dreams.
Pizza guy is a wanker
My friend, Sandra, lives in Walthamstow, which is a newly vibrant suburb of London. Many of the houses, including Sandra’s, are old terraced properties which originally housed working class families. But back in the 1990s Walthamstow became a Yuppy-magnet, mainly because of the transport links to The City.
So, that’s the history.
Here’s the present.
I was round Sandra’s on Saturday night. She’d invited a few friends for a pizza party, which in effect meant pizza, wine, music and a few porno vids. Yeah – we girls like a bit of porn. But it has to be “for the girls“.
Anyway. About eight thirty there was a ring at the bell and Sandra opens the door to some spotty kid with an armful of pizzas. I was standing behind Sandra so I caught a glimpse of the delivery guy and I filed him away under “spotty twat”.
A couple of hours later, replete with wine, pizza and gherkins, I take a trip to the loo for a pee.
Now, as I said, Sandra lives in a terraced property. What this means, in terms of structure, is that although the frontal facade is continuous, the rear of the properties are staggered, with bathroom overlooking bathroom.
You’re getting my drift – I can feel it.
So, I’m washing my hands in the sink after a satisfying pee and I’m looking out of the bathroom window (it’s a sash window and the bottom half is frosted for privacy) and I see that the bathroom window opposite is open (ie pulled up). What’s more, I see a hand tugging on a fucking huge knob. It must have been twelve inches – perhaps more. I stood there transfixed as he tugged away, adding more soap as required for extra lubrication. It was a masterclass in masturbation.
Inevitably he shot his load, and I mean shot because it spurted right out of the open window. I was impressed.
By now there was a queue forming outside the toilet and there were regular knocks on the door demanding access, but I was determined to see this thing through to the end.
And I’m glad I did. Because when the spurting was done, the guy bent down and looked out, no doubt to see if he’d attracted an audience (which made me think that this was obviously not the first time he’d done it – lucky old Sandra). I caught his eye and gave him a wink. And who was it? Yes, you’ve guessed. The spotty pizza guy.
It made me wonder about the mozarrella topping!
My dream (2)
I had the dream again last night.
I need to talk about it.
The thing is, I’m not sure that I’m normal.
I need to ask you something – and please be honest.
Ready?
Is this normal?
I dream about having sex with my brother.
Fuck. I actually said it.
But listen. It’s not what you think.
Yes. In my dreams I see my brother. But the dream disguises my true love by making him look like my brother.
That’s why it’s so distressing. I know I’m not in love with my brother but my dream state dresses every man up to look like my brother.
What is that all about?
