NMM

I am giving you a few days warning. National Masturbation Month is May. I know this means it ends in 2 days and a few hours. I was not aware until then. I'm sorry for the short notice, but I've got some serious catching up to do. Maybe I'll have my own masturbation month in June. Yes, I will. Feel free to join me. I only bite a little.

procrastination

I'm awake. I have been since just gone 9. This seemed like a great idea.

(I was actually woken up by SOMEONE who, despite knowing I sleep at such an hour, texted me.)

I decided to do some homework. It's now been 3 hours. I have done nothing. I think I deserve a round of applause. Kiss my ring. Make it sexy.

Fun

So I had fun.

Stayed over at Sara's lasts night. Amongst other things we got pulled over by the police, drove with an open door and I ate a trough of popcorn and drank a bucket of pepsi on my own.

I also put Sara through the kind of pain that kept her up far later than normal, with moaning that I’m pretty sure was riding that barrier between pain and pleasure. Her lip is bruised, her back was raw-red covered in scratch and bite marks. She’s lucky I was too distracted to grab my whip. She’s lucky she tastes so damn good; I couldn’t keep my tongue off her. Very lucky.

Judging by the amount of time her mouth spent on my skin, I don’t taste half bad either. How bad do you want to run your tongue across my skin now?

Neurotic Organisation

I have now planned what I'm wearing, bringing and how I'm getting to pride this summer.

If you're wondering, and I'm sure you are, I'm wearing black hotpants, a black low cut top and being covered in rainbow coloured hand-prints. I'm also sharpie-ing the freshly shaven bit of my hair. And maybe my fringe. It's only pride once a year. Until my local pride about a month later when I get to do it all again! I've planned the costumes for everyone I'm dragging along to be rainbow themed. So far Sara is getting rainbow kisses on her neck and James has a rainbow on his chest (he's also wearing army boots, trousers and a beret), but once i'm done it'll look like the rainbows had a pukefest all over them. Lexy doesn't know this yet, but she's also gonna be coated. Sorry. *Big evil grin spreads across my lips.* I wish it didn't have to be like that.

I have the journey planned to the minute. Of course.

There is a reason I'm so organised. If I plan ahead, I get more done and it gets done faster. In the long run that means I have more time to spend with whoever or whatever I want. Toys are often my first priority. Sorry Sara. *Dreamy look as I lick my lips.*

Bite Me

A friend just told me, based purely on my picture that I must "give wonderous head."

This is a compliment.

I don't feel it's completely undeserved. The first guy I blew would not stop complimenting me for almost a year.

However, the compliment was based on the fact that the picture "screamed blowjob."

I would be interested to know, do people generally think my mouth looks like good head?
Please comment, I'm curious.

BNP and Catholic Loop Holes

So I didn't spend £75. I did spend £74. But in my defence £7 was a cute, mini dress.

All in all a very good day.

Sara told me about something that physically disgusts me. I'm not a fan of the BNP at all, my dislike is almost as strong for them as it is for the Catholic extremists (homosexuality is sin, no sex without marriage, no contraception, no masturbation, etc. I'm gonna burn in their hell for all eternity. With all the other people who like kinky things, contraceptive, same sex-screwing, drugs, and getting themselves off. How was bunging us all together a good idea? Drug-induced orgy, anyone? Plus if at the last minute I decide that a life of multiple orgasms, G-spot stimulation, kink and anal, oral and vanilla sex in every position there is, isn't for me, I'll repent.)

Back to the issue at hand, the BNP have started a hitler-esque youth movement and here is her rant:

A little rant?
The BN-freaking-P. You want to know what they've done? They've started a "Young BNP"
They run camps, which have coined the rather appropriate term "gun camps" by the media, where young people are taught fighting skills like knife wielding and shooting, as well as indoctrinated with BNP propaganda. These camps are for 13 to 18 year olds, yet on their website, a 12 year old girl is singled out for her exceptional performance with a rifle.
Honest to god they make me sick.
Last time some nutcase had this sort of an idea we ended up with millions of slaughtered civilians, and 4 million brain-washed young thugs brandishing knives engraved with "Blood and Honour". You don't have to be a genius to have taken GCSE History and made the bloody link.
Alarm bells anyone???
The biggest problem with all this is that the BNP are a group of stuck up tw*ts. To put it bluntly. They are anti-"anyone-who-doesn't-look-behave-or-dress-like-me". And well, I'd say that encompasses most people who aren't white, middle to upper class, racist and homophobic. Oh, and English. If you're not English, go home.
Apparently.

• Allow me to introduce you to some of their more interesting policies.
  Muslim No-Fly Policy. This stops any Muslim using air travel to either enter or leave the UK. So basically, they can't use planes. It's simple really. They're terrorists, the lot of them.
• Another little gem of racism from a BNP member who inadvertantly told a Sky News reporter "the black kids are going to grow up dysfunctional, low IQ, low achievers that drain our welfare benefits and the prison system and probably go and mug you." The word "lots" does not enough attempt to cover how much this man deserves to die. He was questioned over what he said, and he replied: "If I thought I was going to be recorded ... I would not have used such intemperate language, but let’s be honest about it, the facts are there". You WHAT now?? The facts are WHERE exactly???
• Anti-Semitism. Because bastards like Hitler can clearly goddamn multiply. The BNP have gone so far to even call the Holocaust, the Holohoax. Now, I'm sorry, but I think about 6 million brutally murdered men, women and children would have to disagree with you there. What did you think? That Auschwitz was for fucking show??
• According to the BNP, all homosexuals are (wait for it) "AIDs monkeys". Yes, somebody, somewhere, ACTUALLY said that and meant it. Not only this, they say they are particularly concerned about the level of acceptance that homosexuals receive in school, and that homosexuality should "return to the closet where it belongs". They also support its re-criminalisation. That is to say, that an act of love and affection between two consenting adults should be illegal and punishable by law.

Getting a little edgy? Good, not just me then.
Anyone for a killing spree?

Hey, at least they're not narrow minded. Oh wait...

Wonders of Pricey Support

My Grandma is here. I absolutely adore my Grandma. It's my christmas present that she came to visit (we're also going to a hotel - I'm bringing the lappie, but due to a snapped charger and a potential non-availability of internet, blogging may be infrequent at best), and my other present is that I get a week with her in the autumn. I'm a foreigner, so she lives abroad, It's a slightly bigger deal when there's flying involved.

Today we're going to Oxford, and in Oxford there is a Bravissimo. Due to being a peculiar size, I have to get bras at such places. As I've mentioned, I love smalls. Bras are my favourite but they're expensive. All the same, as with dildos, I love to look. That can't hurt, right?

When I get back having spent £75 on undies... Then I was wrong.

Mockability and Dildos etc.

On account of having visited Bedroompleasures rather alot recently it has come up as one of my most visited sites when I open a new tab. This is isn't a problem. I happily opened a new tab and started typing into the adress bar. I feel eyes burning into back. The mother is standing behind me, gaping at the screen. The picture of various toys is standing out. The pink header of "sex toys, vibrators and dildos" shines out. I glance at the screen, shut the tab and use my google button instead.

On explaining this to James he then asked why I had been using the site after all, I'd bought my toys. Allow me to explain: I like to shop. Some girls look at shoes and dresses, some at arts and books. I look at dildos.

It's really very simple.

Since I have decided to get a "fuck-off" haircut, my attitude has become a little more... Controlling. Insane. Angry. Immoral. You see where I'm going: Tyrant.
Point is, I told Sara she was no longer allowed to mock things (the girl mocked me, she brought it on herself). She did not take me seriously and long story short I threatened to send a box of sex toys to her mum with a note saying "Property of Sara." That oughta do it.

She was kinda mad. Threatened to haunt me. Told her not to waste her eternity like that. After some grovelling she got her right to mock back. Her reply?

"MOCK*MOCK*MOCK*...Mwahaha."

Oh dear.

Good Morning Decisions

I need to leave for school, but first I will blog. I'm very horny (I'lll wear something to sort that out), and I want to get a haircut. I'm thinking supershort, asymmetrical and partly shaved. First things first. Education.

An After Thought

Forgot to mention, I had a drink with aforementioned German assistant. Dont' judge me, I was hungry. I can hear you judging. Stop it! It was free cake, what was I meant to do?

Little Playthings

My toys are coming. I will be too.

I'm getting myself a lovely little Lady Finger to bring with me on my travels, the remote controlled wireless egg (which, FYI can be used up to 20 meters away, perfect for taunting from a safe distance) and my Cloud 9 Orgasm Kit. Finally because I've spent a fair bit I get a free gift. Enter the waterproof Pink Cone Vibrator. To quote a friend, "that's alot of pussy fun."

My-my, am I a lucky girl? This will add to my collection (of rabbit, vibes, whip, cuffs, condoms, lube, etc). I know what I'll be doing over the holiday. Although I am going to need more space for my toys. My collection is growing faster than I have storage for. Any suggestions on spaces?

I praise with pain and pleasure. Want it to be worth your while?

Flying Fish

Today a fish fell into our garden. From the sky. Nature's idea of a joke.

We're assuming a heron dropped us the little present. Right in front of the dog. She thought she'd gone to heaven.

I got to see Sara today which was great. Ended up making out and playing tetris under a coat. At the same time. I have talent.

My plead of sex toys yesterday led Lexy to offer to order them for me if I gave her the money. I'm getting foolishly excited. Such wonders will come of this. I'm sure you can imagine the look on my face. Well, you're trying now.

Education and Mysterious Noises

School is lonely. A-level students are on study-leave and it's just us International Nerd Kids(INKs).

I desperatly need to dance. It's Monday and I want to be at belly dancing but my mum would rather plan her travel to chealsea flower show. There's always some excuse. I do have WAY too much homework to be going out tonight, but clearly I'm blogging and not doing it anyway.

I think my sex toys are haunting me. I'm sitting in my room and I can feel something vibrating against the floor. I can hear a slight buzzing. I check my toys and the buzzing stops. I wait a while and suddenly I can hear it again. Very creepy.

Talking of toys. I have to get means of paying for things online because there are so many toys and so little time. I have the money and no way of getting it off the website. I want the silver LadyFinger (to use in school), Cloud 9 Orgasm kit (to use at home) and the remote controlled vibrating bullet (to use where ever the hell I like). Damn I'm horny. Again.

Cold fingertips outlining my collar bone, pinching my nipples. Gently at first, but harder and harder as I go on. My other hand creeping down my stomach, my skin perking up from the touch. My insides tighten from the chilly bullets. My lips part and I let myself moan softly as my eyes shut and my head tilts back. Fingers in and out, gently teasing myself, traling along the delicate skin until I have to be touched, with force and deep, heavy thrusts until I'm panting. I feel dizzy with pleasure, biting my lip, hard. Don't want to get caught.

The Birth of Dear Della

I found this as part of a rant on Sara's blog:

Stereotyping. I mean seriously. Who in the world ever thought that was a good idea? Thanks to SXEPhil for the low-down on the latest piece of blatant, technology themed, sexism. You know Dell? The computer company? The "You-must-own-a-computer-to-buy-a-computer-mwa-ha-ha" company? Yep, well you want to know about the website they're creating?

Della. No joke, it is a 'female version' of Dell. Don't bother trying to look it up, believe me I've tried, it's not around yet, although it is quite amusing being redirected to the Wedding Channel's website when you type in Della.com.

But anyway, back to the point. Isn't it just great for us girls? Because, you know, for ages I've been thinking "Damn, I really want to search for recipes and cleaning tips online, but I need a computer, and that big manly website is just so overwhelming with all those technical terms like 'screen' and 'disc' I can't cope... If only someone would make a pretty little website with a cutesy name where I could identify with other like-minded bimbos..."

Unbelievable. Next we'll have Dell-izle "for all ya gangsta mother-f*ckin' needs mother-f*cker!"

Isn't that nice?
Here I am typing on the very computer that they're promoting. If I didn't know that it was a pretty good netbook, it would have been hurled across the room. And then stamped on. It's insured.

Here is that lovely site for you
and for a great review of it

And here are just a few of the comments left on the Della site:

"I found this extremely helpful...I've decided to buy a Mac."

"I'd write a letter to complain, but I cant use a word processor. It's not colour coded"

Clearly Dear Della is going to be a much-loved site. How did we get by without their tech-tips before?

The Usual

I want to blog. I am too horny to think. I have nothing to write. Entertain yourselves. I will.

For those of You Confused

The latest rumour of Sara being involved in the carrot escapades is very inaccurate and unfair. Unfair for two reasons: 1) she wasn't and shouldn't get that reputation and 2) I worked hard for my reputation and will not share.

Just so everyone knows the original carrot was way before Sara. It actually disgusts her a little. It is not something I think she'd ever do. She wasn't there when I did it. She hasn't done it on her own. I didn't do it to her, she didn't do it to me. She didn't eat it after I'd used it. I have only ever eaten my own. She didnt watch a live video feed of me while I did it. There is no video of it on youtube. She had nothing to do with it.

Are we clear?

Body vs. Brain

I had to take today off due to some major communication issues between Brain and Body. Body has decided to shrink my right eye and use an industrial blender on my brain. Kids and their practical jokes. Anyway after that direct attack on my mind there was no chance I'd survive 6 hours of intense education whilst beating back the mini bullets Body sends my way. Today was spent reading blogs on my laptop in a dark room (with the screen brightness on minimum) due to a light sensitive head ache (thanks Body!).

All that time to myself, lying naked in a bed gave me a fair few dreams. Yum.

Hands running up my legs, hot breath on my stomach, kisses on my breasts, teeth on my nipples. Heat gushing out from every cell in my body, long strokes of the broad tongue, precision engineered nudges with the tip and thrusts to snake deep inside me. Hot, clammy skin.

I woke up gasping for breath, my hand covered in my own cum and knowing it wasn't there when I went to sleep.

Here's the thing Body, you overthrow me and you give up on thoughts like that to give you orgasms because, guess what, those are my department.

In it for the Cash

After reading one too many old Belle De Jour blogs I've come to the conclusion that waitressing and prostitution are essentially the same: there's a small amount of skill involved, you have days where you hate it, the aim is to please the customer, and at the end of it all, you're in it for the cash.

Let me tell you a dirty little secret: I want to try it. Sex for money. I love both, might as well combine them. Go on, be outraged, feel the horror wash over you. Now think, if you know me even a little, you'd have seen it coming. I knew you'd come round.

Here's something that will get you thinking:

"What do people mean when they speak disparagingly of "a whore"? Someone who sells her or his body? I have news for you: Unless you're a ghost who still draws a paycheck, you use your body to make a living, too. Ever been nice to a customer you really didn't like, or acted enthusiastic about something you really didn't care about, just because you were getting paid? Congratulations, you're a whore, too. You're just not getting paid as much as I am."

The words of Mistress Matisse.

Go on, you want the dirty thrill of doing something you love for money. Don't pretend.

Lazy

I took my own advice and I'm taking a morning off to recover. I do feel alot better, so that's a definate plus. Sara had an exam today and it went really well, so thats a load of her mind. Until the next one.

I am beating my body, I will look healthy in no time now. I've almost got pigment back in my skin. It's nice.

I'm clearly still quite groggy and can't blog to the best of my ability. I'd better start getting up and ready if I'm going to make it in to school today.

Body Fluids

If you've come to expect a certain theme in my blog, the title is not what you think. Made you look though.

My left eye has shrunk. My body is really going to extremes this time. It's made my left eye smaller so it's constantly watering. It's really distracting. Not to forget that my nose is running 24/7 and I'm sneezing more times than I care to think about.

All the same, I'll beat my body. Despite the blood, flem and tears. (In case you're wondering all the sneezing means I get nose-bleeds. There's a lovely image for you.)

Right now I'm eating gay cake. It's bloody lovely. Linda makes good cake. Here's an idea: should you ever want great cake, make friends with Linda.

Now that I'm done gushing about cake, and busy ignoring the fact I pretty much wont see Sara for a month I'm thinking about sleep. I'm so damn tired. All the time. And after a day of, "holy shit, you look like crap!" I think I deserve abit of feel good TV and a lie-in. I'm almost certainly taking the morning off to recover and coming in for my far more important afternoon lessons. I'm thinking I'll be awake enough to actually make a decent contribution to the lesson. Would be nice.

And just so I don't ruin your day: Body fluids - consume pineapple, it flavours your cum and speeds up your metabolism. And closes up my throat. Stupid body.

Cake and Illusions

My body is being disobidient. I usually rule with fear and torture which is ok, torture is really just mind over matter, so even when it's self inflicted my body behaves and I feel no pain. Terrified yet?

Well my body has outdone me. I don't get ill on account of being invincible, etc. However my body has mushed my brain by giving me a blocked up cold. As this is my body rebelling and not an actual virus I'm not really ill.

It does mean that until my will power beats my physical being (shouldn't be long, I'm a stick with tits) I have a nose running a marathon at the pace of a hundred meter sprinter. With sneezes in place of hurdles. My head feels like mush. But it's not real.

I'm pretty sure that between thinking myself healthy and my mums theory of sweat-it-out my body will do as it's told in no time. In case you're wondering the sweat-it-out theory goes pretty much like this:
"Got a cold? Under the covers... Flu? Have a duvet... A bug? Up to bed... Broken leg? You know where to go."

So far nothing's proved her theory wrong as we've all been cured of our ails, but how much it had to do with sweating it out I don't know.

Other end of the scale: good things.

Sara and I got a cake. A chocolate cake. It was meant to be a two-month anniversary cake disguised as a Tuesday cake (to make sure I didn't commitment-freak), but it was 6 days late and became a Two-Month-And-Six-Days cake/Gay Cake. I haven't actually had any yet because when I came home I felt so rotten my mum made me try and sweat out be body rebellion with a 5 hour nap. It looks deliscious. In truth it may just be an excuse for our friend, call her Linda, to make a cake. I'm not complaining.

Other good thing. I made Sara smile despite the fact she had an awful migrane and was a fool to come to school. Still my handcuffs came with 2 keys. Today I gave one to Sara. Partially a good luck charm for all her exams and partially because I don't really get to see her for about a month now. She's got study leave and horses, her mum hates the sexual predator (me), you do the maths. But now she has a constant reminder of me hanging round her neck. In case she you know, forgets about me. Or something more plausable.

The Good, the Bad and the Ugly

The Good The Bad The Ugly

Sara survived the insanity that is cross-country. Freya, the supervisor from hell, said she wanted to replace all sunday staff. Everyone now hates her, I'm no longer in the minority. The Boss said it's not true and we don't need to get new jobs. Work was long and boring and I was restless and horny. I got paid for being there. The Boss has a new tattoo, it's very cool. It has to be coated in cream. The cream makes the shirt stick to his back (I know this sounds like it should be bad, but it's quite funny). It made him act like a sulky 3 year old. JJ and one of the other girls I like working with are now working alternate weekends. Everyone hates Freya (I know I already said that, but it makes me feel warm inside). JJ and I decided that in order to get Freya into trouble me must tell her boyfriend she fucked the Boss. Obviously we won't actually do that. Obviously.

Needs

I want human touch. Teeth marks on my skin and nails digging into my back. I want the heat and the stale smell of sweat. The sound of hot panting surrounding me and blood through my ears. I want to get lost in the moment.

Note

I am blogging to say that while my girlfriend spent the day walking around a field in preperation to get herself murdered I have so much homework I don't have time to wank. Which is a bloody shame because with the house to myself I could make as much noise as I wanted. Damn.

Ways to Pass the Time (part 1)

1. Masturbate
2. Listen to music
3. Listen to loud music
4. Buy an iGasm and masturbate to the beat of your music
5. Walk along the main road bite your lip and lick your teeth at the people driving past (men will stare, women will scowl at which point you should smile sweetly)
6. Porn (and just for the record, porn is not sex education)
7. Misery loves company; hang with a friend
8. Tetris
9. Heal thyself. Use whatever you have at hand when you're horny
10. Write lists as an excuse to talk about getting yourself off

Guess what I'm gonna go do now...

Bits and Pieces

Yesterday I was told something shocking. A friend of mine who I always thought of as shy and maybe a little prudish turned around and told me about a guy who thought the same. She then told him differently, they got stoned and fucked in the shower.

Appearances are deceptive.

Today Sara started a blog. It's very funny, but it's private, so you may all mind your own business. And just so you know, you're missing out big time because it's hilarious!

Recently I walked down the coridor holding hands.

"oh my god! Are you going out?"

Where has he been. It's not like we're really subtle.

See that, right there. The joke. Do you know why I do that? Because if I don't laugh, I might just cry. And I cant let them get to me. There are to many ignorant homophobes out there for me to let them get to me.

And just if you see me walking around, wearing two keys around my neck. Those are the handcuff keys. It's my new way of taunting Sara.

The Unknown

I'm not anonomous. I'm proud of my blog. It's public and the people around me know who I am. I'm not ashamed of the things I do, the things I want to do.

That doesn't mean I want my url plastered all over facebook. If it's going on there, I'm putting it there. So I changed it. Whatcha gonna do?

Choices

Life isn't a journey. It's a list of bullet points that end in question marks. Most of the time there's more than one option. You can't always see them all to start with, sometimes you never do.

Salt, vinegar or both?
Trousers or skirt? Picked one?
What about shorts or a dress?

There are things you don't choose: gay, straight, bi and trans. Still options, but out of your power. Don't argue with that, trust me, I would have chosen to be straight. I'm glad I'm not now, but back when I was coming out, my little bit at a time, especially before I told my mum, it was hard. I felt like shit. Now it's time for new, shiny shit to fly my way and splatter me a in glorious, filthy layer of exhilaration.

The best choices are the ones where you make the right decision. They're rare. That's what makes them so special.

A Blog from Sara

After begging, flattery and above all emotional blackmail I've persuaded Sara to write a blog for me. And just for the record, emotional blackmail will get you everywhere. Remember that.

What can I say? I don’t usually do requests, but I’ll make an exception just this once.

I’m sure you’ve all heard the story of the AWOL handcuff keys. Well, they came into school today, still on her watch strap. She was also wearing her trademark “ooh-I-do-love-the-power” smile and her “Go-on-I-dare-you-to-try” eyebrow. Both of which, I can safely say, are extremely distracting. I suppose revenge is still tasting sweet after the backless top episodes.

Anyway, the whole idea of distractions leads me on to Friday night, or more specifically, being at hers, and the recurring flashbacks that still refuse to leave me alone.

One of my favourites sounds a little dubious without an explanation. But this is it in a nutshell. To set the scene, my girlfriend is one of those fantastically spontaneous people who, whilst playing with your hair and brushing your lips with her fingertips, asks “What are you thinking?”

Now, I’m no liar. Let’s get that straight. (Excuse the pun) But if I'm honest the answer I gave was a little short of the truth. So I thought I’d set the record straight and let you know EXACTLY what I was thinking…

“I’m thinking about the heat of your thighs around mine. The touch of your skilful fingers on my waist and your soft lips on my neck. I’m thinking about how the goosebumps trickle down my spine when your tongue brushes against my top lip, and how you bite me and taunt me until my mouth is begging for yours. I’m thinking about how your hands slip under my clothes, making my lips part and my legs shake. I'm thinking about how much I love you in control, how my heart races when you straddle me and pin my arms to the bed. I’m thinking about how I want you to kiss me so hard I can barely breathe, then let your velvet tongue glide across the top of my jeans and draw patterns on my stomach.”

Just thought I’d clarify that. My conscience was getting twitchy.

Moving on. Something quite disturbing happened today. Rather than be crucified by chavs at the top of the hill, I met her near where the buses pull up. I kiss her good bye just as the first wave of schoolkid-laden buses starts driving past. Someone bangs on a bus window. We turn around. Just in time to see some sexually frustrated teenage boy hanging off his seat and licking his teeth in what can only be described as one of the most unappealing ways you can possibly imagine. Seems I was wrong. It can get a whole lot worse than death-by-chav.

All Work, No Play

2 days and 18 hours work. All whilst so horny all I could think about was the blood pumping through my body making my pussy tingle and my nipples stand to attention. It was lovely, but did make concentrating on coffee a little tricky.

I'm sure anyone who recognized the look on my face would agree. And that I'm so horny, I'm not even listening to you half smile with the dreamy eyes is definately something you'd recognize. Plus I keep licking my lips, biting at them and the smile grows a little. I'm telling you now, that look tips well.

I'm exhausted. But cash in hand and a smile on my face I think it's worth it.

Secret Project

It has been revealed. I gave it to Sara before she left. A small origami box with fifty home-made, lesbian themed guitar picks. I believe she liked them. Now she can play like the lesbian she is.

I have to find another way of torturing her. Suggestions welcome.

Busy

I have piles of homework to finish and chores to do at home. I know it's bank holiday, so I have three days to all these things in, right?

Wrong.

I seem to have volunteered to work Sunday and Monday. I'm not sure how it happened, but it does mean lots of cash.

So as I'm so pushed for time, I should be getting the work done and not blogging? Correct. However there are two major problems with this. One: the work I'm meant to be doing is much, much more boring than blogging. Two: if I wasn't wasting my time writing this, you couldn't waste yours reading it. Slacker.

Guess Who

She gets sexy bed head, she stays over mine most Fridays and she's half the Dyke-in-a-Small-Town-Duo....

SARA!

I know that wasnt strictly necessary, but it was fun. You doing the whole quoting in italics thing? Does that answer your question. I have the handcuff keys on my watch strap, to make sure Sara doesn't run off with them and leave me in a somewhat sticky position next time I'm looking for a little DIY fun. That's not fair...

I've started a new game. It's very fun. For me. It's turning into an obsession. It's not. Yet. Yeah right.

Anyway! The game is called "smack Sara's arse everytime I have half a chance." I don't think it needs explaining. Nah it's pretty self-explanatory. Stop buttting in :P

*SMACK* Can you guess what just happened?

Come on, what's my game, what do I get to do?

You don't.

All's fair, right?

Gutted.