I’m always surprised how uncomfortable men are in lingerie and sex stores. If men think about sex every 3 minutes, surely there is no shame in being at the stores that supply these fantasies.
Sex is shoved down our throats in nearly every multi media outlet possible; tits, dildos, porn, nipple clamps, tassels, lube, anal beads, costumes, whips/chains and such are in the porn men watch and sex appeal is in every beer commercial I’ve ever seen, so why the discomfort? If anyone should be uncomfortable is should be the ladies and the pressure of sexual image they must uphold, constantly, (because, as we all know, once no one wants to fuck us, we’re moot, tossed aside).
Sex in this culture is shameful when it comes right down to it. Otherwise wouldn’t we all be fucking in the open, sex shops wouldn’t be so creepy and lingerie shopping wouldn’t be giggled about.
Thank fuck for online shopping, saves the hassle and discrete boxes. Sometimes it puts you on odd mailing lists, I really wonder what the mail lad thinks of my animal sized dildo and bondage catalogues.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
What makes a man want a woman? Every makeup, lingerie and beauty potion ad would have us believe what they’re selling makes a man want you. The more important question to be asked is, how do you keep him interested in you once you get him?
A friend (of sorts) raved and raved about a new man she met, perfect, sweet, a bit nerdy, slightly buff and over all a ‘nice guy.’ I was introduced to him over sushi and no sooner did she get up to use the bathroom/loo/restroom did he promptly stare down my blouse and ask if I was single. My friend really, is a pretty girl, not pretty in a sexual way, pretty in a cute way. It leads me to find that men want sexy pretty as well as cute pretty and not necessarily in the same women.
This is the Madonna/whore complex broken down to a man’s level, the one you marry and the one you fuck. I happen to believe you can be both, though rarely is it true.
I realize I’m the one ‘you fuck’ and I’m happy with that. I prefer fucking to marriage much more. Unfortunately for married women it’s with their husbands. I’m no prostitute but I am a mistress with a craving for some fun on the side from time to time in-between my men. SO guard you’re husbands ladies, I’m a single gal.
Yes, as of now, I am a free mistress. A mistress with no master. I was bored, he was preoccupied and I wanted a good fuck. So after breaking things off (on good terms) I decided to go for what I wanted all along, a man I’d been eyeing at his job. A man I met at dinner parties and weekends away with the company. He knew what I was and I knew the girlfriends he kept along with his wife. All honest, all open.
I called his secretary and made an appointment at his office (on a higher floor, same building). He rang back and moved it earlier in the day, gave the secretary the day off after he had her clear all his appointments. I was excited riding the elevator up to his floor, I hadn’t been this excited in a long time by a man.
He greeted me at his secretary’s desk, walked me into his office, locked the doors and turned and put his mouth on mine. He lifted me to his desk, hiked up my skirt and discovered I wasn’t wearing anything underneath. He had me over and over at his desk, I sucked him off as he took a phone call from a business partner till he just screamed “I have to go!” and hung up. He lifted me against the wall till his arms trembled.
I left getting what I wanted.
A friend (of sorts) raved and raved about a new man she met, perfect, sweet, a bit nerdy, slightly buff and over all a ‘nice guy.’ I was introduced to him over sushi and no sooner did she get up to use the bathroom/loo/restroom did he promptly stare down my blouse and ask if I was single. My friend really, is a pretty girl, not pretty in a sexual way, pretty in a cute way. It leads me to find that men want sexy pretty as well as cute pretty and not necessarily in the same women.
This is the Madonna/whore complex broken down to a man’s level, the one you marry and the one you fuck. I happen to believe you can be both, though rarely is it true.
I realize I’m the one ‘you fuck’ and I’m happy with that. I prefer fucking to marriage much more. Unfortunately for married women it’s with their husbands. I’m no prostitute but I am a mistress with a craving for some fun on the side from time to time in-between my men. SO guard you’re husbands ladies, I’m a single gal.
Yes, as of now, I am a free mistress. A mistress with no master. I was bored, he was preoccupied and I wanted a good fuck. So after breaking things off (on good terms) I decided to go for what I wanted all along, a man I’d been eyeing at his job. A man I met at dinner parties and weekends away with the company. He knew what I was and I knew the girlfriends he kept along with his wife. All honest, all open.
I called his secretary and made an appointment at his office (on a higher floor, same building). He rang back and moved it earlier in the day, gave the secretary the day off after he had her clear all his appointments. I was excited riding the elevator up to his floor, I hadn’t been this excited in a long time by a man.
He greeted me at his secretary’s desk, walked me into his office, locked the doors and turned and put his mouth on mine. He lifted me to his desk, hiked up my skirt and discovered I wasn’t wearing anything underneath. He had me over and over at his desk, I sucked him off as he took a phone call from a business partner till he just screamed “I have to go!” and hung up. He lifted me against the wall till his arms trembled.
I left getting what I wanted.
Thursday, August 12, 2010
The Pop Culture Mistress
Mistresses in popular culture are really anything but real mistresses. The real ones, true ones, stay under the radar. They’re smart about it. At least the ones I know are. Who wants to be a well known mistress?
Well apparently anyone who’s fucked Tiger Woods, Jessie James, Mel Gibson and any well known politicians is in a dire need for their 15minutes of fame because they come forward. How utterly stupid. You want to be known as a home wrecking fame whore (in all use of the word). These men cheat by choice, whether it be with these girls or another’s but it’s not the women’s job to tell everyone or their wives. Most of the times the wives DO know about us and they certainly don’t need the public humiliation of the media attention.
I’m no angel, I’ve had my share of celebrity trysts but I certainly don’t call STAR magazine and rat them out to their wives and family. That’s not my right. At all. I enjoy the time and gifts and move the fuck on. These women, I think, have the illusion these high powered men want to be with them long term. They will not all end up like Camilla, Duchess of Cornwall, who fucked Prince Charles the entire time he was married then got the ring. No, more then likely they will end up like Rachel Uchitel, holding on to beauty with broken fingernails and screaming bloody hell as the clock gets close to 15 minutes while Tiger moves on.
This is life people, beauty fades, life moves on, there will always be more 20-something girls in the world. At 21, I know this full well. This is why I know my numbers are limited and hustle before I get a ‘real job.’ Letts face it, marriage is not in the cards for me.
I get why the public eats up these stories of power and celebrity. Everyone, everyone wants to be close to that kind of notoriety. Me? I just like to fuck it. The stories ohh the stories I could tell. These powerful men are such pussycats behind closed doors. Others love that THEY are fucking YOU and need to hear their name screamed out, ego trips. Most are the most cliché experiences ever. Straight out of a cheap, romance paperback novel. Candles, black lingerie, stripper shoes, body oil, etc.
I must admit, I do love the seducing. The power, the chase, the sex. These men could and can have anyone they want. You have to give them more then that. That something extra, I’m told by men have I this, I don’t know really how to explain it other then sexual charisma.
Well apparently anyone who’s fucked Tiger Woods, Jessie James, Mel Gibson and any well known politicians is in a dire need for their 15minutes of fame because they come forward. How utterly stupid. You want to be known as a home wrecking fame whore (in all use of the word). These men cheat by choice, whether it be with these girls or another’s but it’s not the women’s job to tell everyone or their wives. Most of the times the wives DO know about us and they certainly don’t need the public humiliation of the media attention.
I’m no angel, I’ve had my share of celebrity trysts but I certainly don’t call STAR magazine and rat them out to their wives and family. That’s not my right. At all. I enjoy the time and gifts and move the fuck on. These women, I think, have the illusion these high powered men want to be with them long term. They will not all end up like Camilla, Duchess of Cornwall, who fucked Prince Charles the entire time he was married then got the ring. No, more then likely they will end up like Rachel Uchitel, holding on to beauty with broken fingernails and screaming bloody hell as the clock gets close to 15 minutes while Tiger moves on.
This is life people, beauty fades, life moves on, there will always be more 20-something girls in the world. At 21, I know this full well. This is why I know my numbers are limited and hustle before I get a ‘real job.’ Letts face it, marriage is not in the cards for me.
I get why the public eats up these stories of power and celebrity. Everyone, everyone wants to be close to that kind of notoriety. Me? I just like to fuck it. The stories ohh the stories I could tell. These powerful men are such pussycats behind closed doors. Others love that THEY are fucking YOU and need to hear their name screamed out, ego trips. Most are the most cliché experiences ever. Straight out of a cheap, romance paperback novel. Candles, black lingerie, stripper shoes, body oil, etc.
I must admit, I do love the seducing. The power, the chase, the sex. These men could and can have anyone they want. You have to give them more then that. That something extra, I’m told by men have I this, I don’t know really how to explain it other then sexual charisma.
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Love isn't an emotion or an instinct--it's an art.
Sometimes my parents ask what I do. I say consulting. If I were to say, “well ya know, you only live once and I intend to live it up by not working in an office, rather I have an older boyfriend who pays my way in life so long as I please him in everyway possible,” they might think I’m crazy. I think their crazy for working their whole lives for a measly paycheck.
So it’s best not to say anything and if bullied into responding what I simply say is, “consulting/PR/ assist” and change the subject pronto. I don’t like lying but it saves fighting. The next subject is why I never bring any boyfriends home and well, I think anyone can guess why I don’t. Perhaps I need to say I am indeed a lesbian and confirm what they might be thinking.
Hmmm at times I really do miss having a boyfriend my own age, their youth, their bodies, the recovery time. Too many girls I see with older men get caught cheating with younger men, not worth the risk I say. You get blackballed out of the courtesan club and then your no better then a common mistress. Besides, who will pay for my Champagne and lingerie habit? I did slip once.
I was on vaca with my first older man charting a yacht to god knows where, south of France/ Greece/ Caribbean/ whatever. The deck hands looked like they were plucked right out of high school. One I noticed right away, very tall, thin with ropy, toned arms and beautiful grey eyes. I smiled at him as he passed me sun bathing naked on deck. I had him in the supply room, every night for the rest of the trip. Sometimes twice if I came back to the boat early from whatever event we had that night. We never spoke, except the, ‘meet me in the supply closet in 10 minutes.’ I was never into big talkers anyways.
So it’s best not to say anything and if bullied into responding what I simply say is, “consulting/PR/ assist” and change the subject pronto. I don’t like lying but it saves fighting. The next subject is why I never bring any boyfriends home and well, I think anyone can guess why I don’t. Perhaps I need to say I am indeed a lesbian and confirm what they might be thinking.
Hmmm at times I really do miss having a boyfriend my own age, their youth, their bodies, the recovery time. Too many girls I see with older men get caught cheating with younger men, not worth the risk I say. You get blackballed out of the courtesan club and then your no better then a common mistress. Besides, who will pay for my Champagne and lingerie habit? I did slip once.
I was on vaca with my first older man charting a yacht to god knows where, south of France/ Greece/ Caribbean/ whatever. The deck hands looked like they were plucked right out of high school. One I noticed right away, very tall, thin with ropy, toned arms and beautiful grey eyes. I smiled at him as he passed me sun bathing naked on deck. I had him in the supply room, every night for the rest of the trip. Sometimes twice if I came back to the boat early from whatever event we had that night. We never spoke, except the, ‘meet me in the supply closet in 10 minutes.’ I was never into big talkers anyways.
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