Kitten Heels

Tuesday, August 29, 2006

Tickets please 

Jumped on a packed bus earlier with the Bloke Indoors and since people were coming down from upstairs looking for seats we grabbed the little folding one in the pushchair area. Apparently no one in London has ever seen a girl sitting on her boyfriend’s lap before because half of them locked their eyes on me as soon as my bum cheeks made contact with the Bloke’s legs. You should have seen the looks of utter astonishment and sheer disgust when I actually put my arms around his neck and we had a quick snog! Seriously though, did we get on a ‘no touching allowed’ bus or was some weird no public displays of affection law passed today without anyone notifying me?

The Bloke Indoors refuses to be put off by onlookers, in fact I get the feeling most of the time that he gets off on them, so as I wiggled my bum into a comfortable position for the 40sum minute journey he nestled his mouth into that space on my neck. Everyone knows the space, it’s the one that when its kissed and caressed you turn to putty. And I most certainly did.

It took all my self-control to stay properly seated and not start mildly moaning in front of all the already not-so-happy travellers. I did mumble a rather pitiful “stop” in his ear at some point, but that only seemed to make him nibble on my neck a little more, move up towards my ear and whisper “If I wanted to I’d slide my hand down the front of your jeans right and let my fingers slip inside your wet pussy and let all these people watch you come in front of them.”

To which I did squirm and giggle but funnily enough not pull away, I didn’t think even my Bloke is quite that daring, though I was a little worried when his hand started to venture a little more towards my bellybutton than my hip where it had been resting. We stayed as we were, me getting wetter and wetter, him whispering things in my ears for the rest of the journey. When the stop finally arrived and we got to his I promptly removed his horribly confining jeans to reveal his raging hard on and took him in my mouth hungrily to give him the blowjob I’d been thinking about since we got on the bus and he did indeed use those fingers.
Posted by Kitten Heels @ 10:58 pm | Link

Can't think of a title sorry 

I'm so proud! I have links, my imood and even a blogcounter thingy now! Soon I'll have all sorts, though I'm not entirely sure what else I can have which may be slightly limiting...

I have a funny feeling that not one person has read my little blog yet. I suppose I'll find out with my little counter whatsit won't I. I do wonder how people find new blogs, all the blogs I tend to read have been around for years and a friend of mine introduced the whole idea of blogs to me. So how will anyone find me in my dark little corner of the blogging world? Should I offer you all free hot chocolate and comfy pink cushions to sit on while I give you long foot massages? Or perhaps I should go down the other route? Come hither readers and I'll chain you to the bed, stroke a feather from your the soles of your feet all the way up your leg until leg becomes crotch then exchange it for my tongue.

Anyone reading yet?

No? Arse. Guess I'll go make a cappuccino then.
Posted by Kitten Heels @ 4:03 pm | Link

Monday, August 28, 2006


Woohoo I added a couple of links! I think I'm going to keep messing about a for a bit.

Lets hope I don't completely cock it all up.
Posted by Kitten Heels @ 10:35 pm | Link

Rain rain come again 

We sat on the bed giggling at each other’s sorry state after being caught in the most horrendous rain I’ve seen all year. Of course I’d forgotten my umbrella and the rain had started the second we started the walk to his so we were thoroughly soaked and my loose silky white top was now moulded to me like a second skin – the weatherman had predicted sunshine. Some of my wet hair fell in front of my face as we sat there looking at each others’ soaking wet bodies and my wonderful Bloke Indoors, as I would loved to be able to literally refer to him, gently tucked in behind my ear and lent in to kiss me. It was one of those wonderful kisses that starts off so gentle and becomes fantastically passionate; he pulled me closer to him, teasing my tongue with his, running his hand from where it rested on my face over my body until his fingertips lingered on one of my erect nipples making my body shiver from the feel of the cold material of my top on my skin.

Him while pinching my nipple: I think we should get this off so I can get at those. (This and those being my top and nipples of course)

Now I’ll never admit how much I adore his pinching - it hurts like a bitch and I love it, but he’s not allowed to know that, I put up much resistance to his pinching and biting normally but today that top was off in seconds and I was sitting astride him my lips on his, rotating my hips as he pinched my nipples between his fingers causing alternate moans of pleasure and pain. I could feel the Bloke’s erection beneath me and lets just say it wasn’t rainwater that was making my thong wet so I pushed him backwards from me and made my way between his legs. This was met with a grin and an extra hard pinch (I hated that of course…mmm). I unzipped his jeans and pulled his fully erect cock out in front of my face, sitting back on my heels I looked the Bloke straight in the eyes and licked the head like a big, throbbing lollypop before taking him in my mouth and sucking him in long, deep strokes.

Both me and the Bloke Indoors love oral and I would have happily stayed there for some time but we hadn’t seen each other for three weeks and we were desperate for each other. He lifted me by my shoulders and placed me on the bed, taking my jeans off of me so quickly I barely noticed. I had a white broderie thong on with a cute pink bow and we’ll just say that the Bloke Indoors liked it; he gently touched me through it before taking it off and laying between my legs, teasing me with the feel of him so close to entering me but not.

Then as we kissed he moved himself inside me slowly and all thought left my mind, our bodies moved in time with one-another gradually getting faster and more intense, I couldn’t help but let out gasps and moans of delight at feeling him inside me again. My legs gripped his sides as he got deeper and deeper inside me, his body rubbing my clit at the same time, it wasn’t long before my nails were gripping into his shoulders as my body clenched and I came for the first time that day.

I lose all sense of time and space during sex and although I remember my Bloke Indoors whispering something in my ear about turning me over and taking me from behind I don’t remember how actually got there.

But it felt good.

My Bloke Indoors placed his hands on my hips and pulled me back onto him, digging his own nails into the flesh of my arse cheeks now as I pushed back on him, feeling another orgasm welling up inside of me. Then he pulled out – I could have cried, but when he reached for the lube I knew what he was going to do and although we’ve done it before the thought always makes me squirm. As he squirted some of it on my arse I reached behind me, my hand closing around his cock, keeping the pace we’d just left behind as he introduced his thumb to my lubed behind.

Me: Maybe we should leave that and I should just get on top of you and fuck your brains out?

He gave be a sharp slap on the arse and replied: You can do that later Babes, right now it’s going up your arse.

Me: And if it hurts?

Him: You’ll enjoy it.

Me: Mmm OK.

And I did.
Posted by Kitten Heels @ 10:02 pm | Link

Friday, August 25, 2006

Fancy a coffee? 

My friends and I often grace Starbucks with our presence (HA!) and ramble on about life over a couple of caramel macchiatos, some days we go mad and have white chocolate mochas, but generally we chit chat and laugh and go goggle eyes at mummies with babies.

I’ve been thinking about the conversations we have in there and about the fact that there is very little chance of me having them with anyone else from my college. If I did I’d probably get some disgusted looks and get myself some kind of nasty label.

The thing is, my friends and I are aged 17 or 18 and we all enjoy sex and or masturbating regularly and for some, perhaps strange reason we do like to talk about it. There are many in my college who do not want to have sex yet and that’s fine; no one should ever have sex before they feel they are ready or feel pressured into doing so. My problem is that they plant labels on those that have had sex. I’ve had sex with two men at the ripe old age of 18 and in their eyes that would make me a slut. Never mind the fact that I might enjoy playing with myself beneath the covers when there isn’t someone else to play with and perish the thought that anyone on this earth owns or even knows where to buy a sex toy. This idea would bring gasps from the gallery and hands drawn sharply up to mouths “you do what????

We sit in Starbucks, we drink our coffee and we talk to each other about our favourite sex toys for at home or with a friend, who is shagging who, who wants to shag who and who is considering dumping whom. To be honest the only difference from a ‘normal’ girly chat with girls at my college is that during our coffee convos we aren’t just talking about a bit of fumbling and sloppy kisses – we’re talking sex and sex toys. Oh and lets not forget that one of my friends is a lesbian (though a virgin) and another is a bisexual.

That would blow the other girls’ minds.

Let me just point out that this isn’t the only thing we talking about…maybe 20% of the time is devoted to something else ;)

I had a point when I began this post but I lost it along the way. I don’t want to be labelled as some kinky slut by silly narrow-minded girls (or boys for that matter) who don’t even understand the label because I have sex or use my favourite nymph at home. Why shouldn’t my friends and I be able to talk normally about things instead of having to practically hide in coffee shops?

I just don’t understand why sex is still a dirty word.

I sound like a granny right?

I've been waiting all day to post that, right now I'm off be back Monday maybe with something nice to talk about. Take care do things I wouldn't do 'cos by next week maybe I'll do them too.
Posted by Kitten Heels @ 10:10 pm | Link

Thursday, August 24, 2006

I'm here but will I stay? 

I’ve never been very good at keeping diaries. In fact I don’t think I’ve ever kept one longer than a month, so what makes me think that a blog will be any different? Well, to be honest, nothing. There is a high probability that in a few weeks time this blog will be thrown on that pile with the rest of the unwritten and rubbished diaries of my youth – but I thought I’d give it a go just because I wanted one and lately what Kit wants Kit gets.

That sounds really spoilt and brat-like I know but its not, it’s just my new outlook: I want those leopard pattern peep toe shoes I buy them, I want that short haircut I go to Michaels, I want a blog... you get the picture. Saying that it took me a while to get my little slice of blog pie, I had no idea why I wanted a blog so why should I get one? I didn’t know what I wanted to write about and had no idea why anyone would want to read about me so what was the point? You might notice I’m writing in the past tense here and I really shouldn’t be – all those things still apply!

I don’t know what I want to write about but I know that almost everyday my fingers itch to type about something or other (they don’t want to write my handwriting is atrocious) and whether or not someone wants to read it isn’t the issue, I want to talk so I’m going to yabber away and if you want to listen, pull up a chair and kick off your shoes (I promise not to steal them if I have them already).
Posted by Kitten Heels @ 3:36 pm | Link

Wednesday, August 23, 2006


Apparently it’s not a dirty word.

I’ve been toying with the idea of starting my own blog for a couple of days now and seeing this this morning decided it for me, I just had to share it with everyone out there.

I say this morning, I didn’t actually get up until somewhere around 1pm but that’s irrelevant. I sat down in my living room with a cup of coffee after switching on the telly and one of those annoying Cash in the Attic type auction shows was on; predictably the telly gadget was on the other side of the room and in my semi-comatose state I wasn’t getting up to get it and so settled down to watch David Dickinson yabber on.

You might be wondering where I’m going but I’m getting there don’t worry. Mr Cheap as Chips is showing us a very strangely shaped piece of glass and is trying to demonstrate how impractical it is (I really couldn’t care less, I’m trying to get my caffeine hit) and then he gives us its name – a frigger. You heard right, it’s called a frigger and no, it’s not for use when lonesome in the bedroom (sadly), apparently its what glassblowers made from left over pieces of glass at the end of the day to keep themselves amused and make a pretty penny.

I couldn’t resist giggling to myself as I finished my cup of coffee, especially since this frigger could almost resemble a clitoral suction toy, or maybe that was just a case of word association?
Posted by Kitten Heels @ 5:59 pm | Link