with apologies to Bridget Jones

Dear diary (and all you wonderful perverts out there who read this diary):

Well, it is the last day of the year, and I have resolved to make next year a wonderful, salacious, unh-filled celebration of all that is good and naked and naughty.

To that end, my resolutions…

  1. Will obviously lose 20 lbs. Preferably via long walks with the puppy, as much aerobic sexual activity as I can manage to extract from every single day and special protein shakes drunk straight from the font.
  2. Always put last night’s panties in the laundry basket. Unless someone luscious would like to sniff them – in which case I may leave them draped over his cock for an additional day.
  3. Will find naughty dominant boyfriend and stop forming romantic attachments to any of the following: workoholics, commitment-phobics, emotional fuckwits.
  4. Will keep my heart and thighs open, however, to all of the following: sexaholics, bi-curious, perverts.
  5. Will especially stop fantasizing about the men in my life I cannot have or who do not want me.
  6. Learn one new sexual technique a month designed to make any man – even the silent ones – moan in ecstasy. Practice faithfully until I can execute flawlessly.
  7. Learn how to enjoy receiving oral sex. (As an aside, exactly how do you explain this to a partner?)
  8. Get spanked. As often as my naughty little self requires it.

Happy New Year, all!

naughty fantasy

Finally back from the parents’, and a Merry Christmas was had by all.

Except… oh, this ongoing fantasy I’ve been having is wickedly potent.

It’s probably the celibacy doing it. I mean, sure, it’s been ages since I actually had man-flesh next to my skin, and also the lack of places or opportunity to touch myself while visiting the folks, it’s bound to drive a woman crazy right?

I picture him. I picture him in so many scenarios it makes my panties damp.

I picture him tangling his hand in my long hair and pulling my mouth to his for a wet, sensual, fierce kiss. I picture him pushing me against a wall, pinning my hands to it while his mouth burns my collarbone, my nipples, his teeth closing over my shoulder. I picture him standing there, aching, against that same wall, while I slide to my knees and nuzzle him, licking the very tip of his cock over and over until we’ve both lost track of time, sliding him between my lips only then, that powerfully hard cock filling my senses. I picture him pulling me to a chair and over his lap before I have time to calculate, his meaty palm meeting my ass in firm strokes that have me gasping and wriggling against him. I picture straddling over him, pushing aside my panties so I can ride him, face to face, grinding into each other until we both break apart and moan and…

See? And these are the ones that are G-rated. 😉

I cannot get this fantasy out of my mind. Maybe it’s the forbidden thing. If I was allowed to do these things, maybe they wouldn’t be such a powerful fantasy, but because I know I can’t do these things, I can’t stop thinking about them.

I mean it. It comes to me at odd times, and always visits me before I sleep. The past three days have been filled with ideas, scenarios, naughty little thoughts.

And fantasies about his smell, his taste. Damn.

married men

The panties say “I’ve been naughty” on the front, and “Spank Me” on the back.

I’d like several pairs, please. 😉

I am finding myself increasingly depressed by what I’ve been finding in the kinky personals. Married men. By the bucketful, really.

Even though my profile clearly states I’m not interested in married men.

I wish I were, you know. I wish I could just push away the guilt and have a good randy time, because some of them are adorable, and intelligent, and well-spoken, and horny.

It’s not some big moral thing on my part – I’ve been with men who were involved before. And that’s precisely why I don’t want to do it again. It’s too hard. No matter how hard I try not to, I live with the fear that I’ll get a phone call one day from The Wife.

A lot of my attitudes changed as my own marriage was coming to an end. Because The Ex gave me cart-blanche to see other men, fuck other men, about a year before we broke it off. And I just couldn’t do it. I did try, one night.

I met a perfectly lovely Latin man in a bar one night while out with some friends. He was sexy, he had a delicious accent, a hard body, danced like the devil, and made me want to sin so bad my knees were weak. And when he touched me and moved me around the dance floor every cell in mo body sat up and sang.

He leaned over and kissed me. It went on and on. The first kiss since I’d met my husband years before. Sexy and wet and wanting and everything I’d been missing with my husband.

He wanted me to go to a hotel with him. And I so wanted to. The man was practically every wet dream I’d had. But I couldn’t do it.

To go home with him meant I’d given up on my marriage. And maybe I was getting close to that point. But I couldn’t do both – have sex with this man, and still hold out hope for my marriage. Either I was working on one, or working on the other. Having your cake and eating it too is just not something that works for me.

So, I continue with the search. Wish me luck. 🙂

kinky Christmas #4

For spankophiles, nothing says I love you like a whap on the bottom. During the holiday season, why not show your love with a Christmas theme?

Nothing says Christmas like a light caning on the bottom with a PVC candy cane.

Don’t know how to make one? Here are all the instructions you need!


I don’t know how much abuse this cane could take, or how much force you could put behind it (I suspect not much) but still… How much fun is this?

kinky Christmas #3

I was going to wait to share this until later, but I’m feeling guilty about leaving that hate-filled spew that was my last post as the first thing visitors see when they visit.

So, I have another naughty Christmas link to share!


Yes, you read it right. Santa Claus Porn. It’s a pay site, and I haven’t seen behind the curtain, so no guarantees on its quality, but funny funny funny.

Who knew Santa was such a stud? 😉


Please be warned that there’s a lot of vitriol below about men (particularly the just-out-of-the-box Republican kind), government, politics and Texas. A lot of it owes to my three whole hours of sleep last night. If you’re not in the mood to read acid, feel free to skip. 😉

So, Bacchus linked to a news story about a woman in Texas who sells sex toys at private parties (a la Tupperware) who got arrested for obscenity.

Sex shops, according to the article, avoid this very fate by posting signs that say “sold as novelties only”. This lady didn’t post any such sign, and so got nabbed by them fine upstandin coppers down in Texas.

That’s right. Because she stood there and basically said “Hell, yes, they’re for sex, and they’re not novelties but real implements that bring real pleasure to real people who desperately need it particuarly if they’re living in the Bible Belt or whatever the hell backward sexual purgatory the Texas Republicans would like it to be.”

You’ve just GOT to know that it was some white, pasty-faced, Republican male lawmaker who has two square missionary chits a week, each lasting no more than three or four minutes while the good and obedient wife lays back and thinks of home and country and whatever she can do to fight them durn terrorists even if it’s submitting to her husband like a good little slave, er, wife… who decided it was only OK for them pink plastic things to be sold as novelties, no real threat to a man’s lovemaking whatsoever, certainly not capable of producing real orgasms and real sexual ennui or god forbid, teaching those selfsame obedient Republican wives that there’s more to life than in, out, in, out, five or six repetitions, twice a week.

What message are we sending here? It’s obscene to talk about orgasm and buy aids for orgasm, even if they’re aids derived from stuff invented by men, male doctors in particular, to help stop those “crazy whining vapours” we women seemed prone to back at the turn of the century? Yes. Men invented vibrators to bring women off, in what is one of the most revolting sexual history stories you’ll ever read about, and now that we’ve figured out they work, goshdarnit, work better than a man sometimes, more tireless than fingers, more precise than a tongue, capable of giving us mindless screaming orgasms any old time we want, men have been trying to shove them into the “novelty” category ever since. God forbid that they actually invented competition for themselves…

Oh, I feel so much better.

kinky Christmas #2

Following along with the kinky Christmas theme, I offer this link. Fun create-your-own kinky Christmas e-cards to send to friends, lovers, relatives, your boss, whatever.

And behold, Vikki’s ideal man…


Let’s see. He’s brunette (I have this thing for brunettes), a little hairy (yum), a Christmas-y guy (for someone who collects Santas, this is a Good Thing), wears boxers, is romantic (the rose), kinky, and likes to hold the whip.

If only real men were as easy to build in 1-2-3. 😉

kinky Christmas wishes

Just in time for the holidays, I ran across the McCall Girl website, with a lovely holiday song called S&M Christmas. An excerpt:

Each time that I spank you, I expect a “Please” and “Thank you”
or the ‘safe words’ we made up they won’t mean a thing.
Now take down the decorations and hang the swing!

I want leg restraints and lubricants;
a ball gag; blindfold and nipple clamps;
handcuffs and bondage gear
that’s on my list this year.
Give me an S & M Christmas!

A-men, sister!

Pictures of “pornaments” and some lovely photos available on the site as well. Very pretty lady.

More holiday thoughts soon!

so here’s something interesting

First, thanks to all who wished me a happy birthday. It went very pleasantly, surrounded by good friends and family. And now life resumes its normal course.

You know, if there’s been one thing my ‘nilla friends have said to me over the years, its this – aren’t I afraid I’ll run into somebody I know while trying to meet someone through kinky personals?

In a area with 4 million people, I really didn’t think that was too likely – not that I’d be afraid of it anyway, because what do I have to be ashamed of?

Well, whaddya know.

I logged on to kinky personals tonight, and was sorting through my newest responses, when I saw a response from a man who looked intriguing, so I clicked on his profile. And loaded up a picture of a guy who lived down the hall from me (though he doesn’t any more) for more than three years.

Cute, 35ish, we saw each other often in the elevator, but I’m not really one for picking up my neighbours. We chatted often enough, though, until he bought a condo a while back and moved out. Wouldn’t ever have pegged him as a kinky boy – he looked a little too straight and vanilla.

Turns out he’s also a dominant man in search of a submissive partner!

What are the odds?

Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem we’re looking for the same thing, but wow. The old adage is true. You just never know when a kinky nature is lurking beneath a deceptively straight surface!