Kitten Heels

Sunday, November 26, 2006


I spilt fizzy stuff on my keyboard earlier and now my 'a' key doesn't quite click as I hit it, it's a right bugger and doesn't feel right as I type.

Just thought I would share my typing woes with you all....
Posted by Kitten Heels @ 10:24 pm | Link

Saturday, November 25, 2006


The Bloke’s got the cold. I suppose he was doomed to get it being stuck around me, but there you go. Spent most of the day playing nurse (minus the outfit I’m afraid – he really is ill) but now the poor bugger says he’s had enough of being fussed over so I’m at home. The girls are out already and frankly I can’t be arsed to traipse halfway across London in the freezing cold, on my own, to meet them tonight.

Lets reminisce….

I hate hot, hot, sticky London weather. It’s the most disgusting humid haze that falls upon the city for all of 5 days every year but leaves me feeling utterly yucky whenever I step off of a train after being plastered to twenty other similarly sweltering bodies. That’s why for those 5 days, when I’m seeing The Bloke Indoors, I bypass him completely as soon as he opens the door – the shower is mine.

I said in my ‘all about me’ post that there are some very simple things that I haven’t done and, up until last summer, one of those things included that same shower that I so religiously ran to in the afternoons.

My clothes lay in a less-than-neat pile on the floor beside the shower, the door was closed and I was busy savouring the feel of clean, water running all over my body. I stood there facing the wall, my head back, the water hitting my head in the typical Hollywood movie style when I heard the gentle thud of more clothes joining my own.

A cold hand slid across my wet bum and squeezed the fleshy part, as The Bloke got into the shower behind me, his nails dug ever so slightly into the sides of my arse as he kissed the back of my neck and I pushed myself back into his body. I turned my head to meet his, his hand reaching up to my breast as we kissed with the water pouring over our heads.

I turned to face him completely and he leant me back onto the wall of the shower, my arms draped his neck as he braced himself against the wall – our lips didn’t part. I look down to see his cock waiting for me to decide what to do with it. I don’t have to decide – The Bloke pushes me down my the shoulders til I’m on my knees in front of him, his hand gripping my soaking wet hair. I grip his legs with my hands and nibble on the skin between his balls, then lick all the way up his shaft, one long lick with my tongue from the base to the tip and big, delicious circle round his glans, savouring his taste before taking it in my mouth. I rub my tongue against the head of his glistening cock as I suck on it, releasing it from my mouth before sucking further, hearing his groan because he wanted more, feeling him pull on my hair because I will hive him more. I take him in my mouth again, this time sucking all the way down, twisting my head as I go down and massaging my tongue against him. He tightens his grip on my hair and begins to move my head for me; not too fast, he isn’t coming like this.

He pulls himself out of my mouth and I look up at him with puppy dog eyes for taking away my treat but he just smirks at me and pulls me up. Once again I’m up against the cold, tiled wall, this time though The Bloke is on his knees in front of me. I can’t help but let out a dirty laugh when I realise what is going to happen, I love it when he uses his tongue on me. As he pushes my legs apart a bit I have to brace myself against the wall, I feel that familiar tingle through my body as his tongue touches my clit, seriously men cannot understand how good that feels. As he continues to lick and nibble me I feel myself sliding down the wall, I just can’t stay up with all these feelings, when I come The Bloke lifts me up once more, this time with even more determination – this is certainly his playtime.

He lifts my right leg over and around his hip, as he slides himself into me, not gently; I let out a moan that can only be described as animal, his fingers twist my nipple and I shriek with a mixture of pleasure and pain. I’m pinned against the wall as he fucks me harder now, I bit down on his neck to stop myself screaming, I can feel myself beginning to come as he speeds up; his orgasm building closer and closer.

I mentally ticked having sex in the shower off of my list as he left me alone in the shower to get myself tidied up and join him in the bedroom afterwards.
Posted by Kitten Heels @ 9:37 pm | Link

Thursday, November 23, 2006

Boys that are friends 

I have male friends. Of course I do. I don’t know many people that don’t. Some people argue that it isn’t possible to have friends that are of the opposite sex because lines inevitably get crossed and I’ve always told them it’s a load of rubbish.

That’s what I’ve always said.

One of my bestest male buds is Harry. Now we don’t spend that much time together, its true, but when we do it’s a laugh a second (nope not even a minute – a second!) and I spend the rest of the week laughing to myself over something he’s said. But something Harry said to me the other day didn’t make me laugh at all. In fact, if I’d been drunk it would have sobered me up quicker than a quadruple espresso and some magic ‘sober-up’ pill.

We were in Starbucks (as we do), sitting in the comfy chairs and I was taking the piss out of the fact that Harry’s right side was soaked due to an incident with a not-so-funny lorry driver. I was leant forward, hand on his knee for support as I laughed my guts onto the table and tried to pick up my coffee when he mumbled something under his breath You’re so sexy when you laugh.


“I said you’re so sexy when you laugh, Kit. I just, well, this isn’t coming out right. Kit I like you OK? You’re just so…you and well…I like you”

“Harry what are you talking about?” Not the brightest response in the world but this is Harry…what the fuck is going on?

“Babes stick your nose in your coffee and have a sniff” (trust Harry) “I can’t say it any clearer without getting one of them aeroplane thingies, and I know you and The Bloke are well serious but….

And that’s where I kind of stopped listening and just looked a bit dazed. What was I supposed to say? This is un-chartered territory for me. My friends that have been friends for so long and know how much I love The Bloke shouldn’t put me in this position, but then again if he does really like me I can understand why he needed to tell me (that sounds so up myself doesn’t it?)

We played the pleasantries for the rest of the coffee but I pretty much scampered, he text me later saying he completely understood why and that it was OK – I felt guilty. But what do I do now? How can I be friends with him knowing that he likes me like that? Or does it make a difference?
Posted by Kitten Heels @ 9:34 pm | Link

Wednesday, November 22, 2006

Revealed (revisited) 

Well I asked so long ago and a few people have guessed, I bet no one cares but I’m still going to tell all…

Ordinary Girl was the closest in guessing my favourite orange-coloured drink when she said Lucozade, because I have to admit, it isn’t too shabby, but I much prefer the clear citrus one to the orange one…so nope, not right I’m afraid. The answer is Irn Bru!!

OK I know most people hate it and my friend has suggested it is actually just carbonated, dilute glucose syrup with sunshine yellow food colouring (that’s always orange to begin with) but I love, love, love it!

Mmmm…time for a glass I think.

(No.2 of 3 past posts – its really not easy trying to get them resembling what they originally did you know)
Posted by Kitten Heels @ 5:48 pm | Link

Tuesday, November 21, 2006

Last night part two (revistited) 

The Bloke Indoors hailed a black cab and threw ourselves headfirst into its cavernous space. I couldn’t stop grinning at The Bloke as he gave the driver directions to a restaurant we had passed a couple of weeks ago and ‘oohed’ and ‘aaahhed’ at. I cuddled up close to The Bloke, felt his lips on the top of my head and I melted into him.

The meal was unbelievable - juicy, creamy and succulently tender. And yes I am talking about the chicken I had. We spent the whole time smiling stupidly at each other and laughing at the thought of everyone else stuck outside in the cold watching Jamie try and get the fireworks to actually work. Of course all the while my right foot was slowly tracing a line up the inside of The Bloke’s ankle, where he is ever so slightly ticklish, and my tongue was licking my lips a little too often for me to believe I still had cream sauce lingering there.

Usually we would go straight home, and I have to admit I wanted to get The Bloke back to his (It was cold dontcha know). But instead we did decide to savour the silly romanticism of the fireworks. We crossed the river and walked along Southbank, watching the fireworks light up the sky – hand in hand, wrapped up against the cold, trying not to trip up. A little way along The Bloke Indoors pushes me up against the stone barrier along the riverbank, his hands on my hips, his smile leaning down towards my lips for a kiss even before I feel solidness behind me.

Up against the stone, The Bloke stands between my legs, pushes me even closer and kisses me deeply. My tongue tests his mouth as my hands grasp his hair. I can feel him through our clothes now, a quick look up and down shows only two people and they’re pretty much engaged in the same kind of activity we are and a good distance away. To hell with it: I undo The Bloke’s jacket so that it hangs around us both and my hands slide down his chest towards his jeans.

As my hand slides quickly inside his jeans The Bloke moves to my neck, biting me firmly and breathing deeply all over that spot all at the same time. Very slowly, I take him in my hand, fingertips slowly caressing the length of him, joined by a thumb, another finger, slowly enveloping him in my hand as my teeth seek out his ear and I push chest against him – letting him feel my erect nipples from the freezing cold air. The Blokes right hand leaves my hip and slides down my leg, pulling it up around him, tracing the line of my stocking and caressing the bare skin before tip-toeing it’s wait further upwards…

A look passes between us as I almost (very almost) pull him completely into the open and lift myself onto his hips.

Time to get home.

Another cab and another back seat. As soon as we were inside The Bloke Indoors took off his jacket and draped it around us, mostly so I didn’t get cold (the sweety) and for less chivalrous reasons of course. He gave me one of his looks. Its almost impossible to describe the looks he gives me, all shadowy eyes and sly smiles. To comply with his eyes’ command I wiggled close to him under his jacket and parted my legs while leaning *ahem* sleepily, against his shoulder. Our hands crossed underneath the jacket, mine teased through The Bloke’s jeans, while his – well his – were pleasantly occupied.

I’m sure the cabbie knew; we were home in half the time we should have been despite the time of night and he did offer me a wink as I tripped my purple shoes out of the doors.

There is more to come…quite literally.

(This is one of three that deleted although not all three related to the rest of this evening…this was a long, and very, VERY, enjoyable night)
Posted by Kitten Heels @ 7:18 pm | Link

Wednesday, November 15, 2006


Why have 3 of my posts disappeared?

Why were they the ones I haven't got saved?

(Now I know) Why everyone hates blogger....


Will re-write....
Posted by Kitten Heels @ 9:43 pm | Link

Saturday, November 11, 2006

Change of plan 

I was going to post the rest of my Last night post today; simply because for the first time since I actually have some time to do it. But I don't feel today is really appropriate.

You will find a couple of blogs today are mentioning the fact that it's time to remember those that fought for us during the two wars that consumed the world for a almost a decade not so very long ago. My grandparents fought in WWII and not all of them made it; neither did all of their friends or family. Neither did sixty-two and a half million other people.

Today and tomorrow are not about writing about sex, bragging about new shoes or typing my fingers to a new beat in my head and telling you all about it. This weekend is a time for remembering those who gave up everything to let us live.

Not only am I going to remember, I hope I never forget.
Posted by Kitten Heels @ 7:33 pm | Link

Monday, November 06, 2006


Gave up on making my own template and found this lovely one. Only problem is the comments link reverts to my pink/purple one. Think I may have to go for pop-up window style comments if I can't get it to change, even though I don't really like those.

Oh well...least I'm all sexy and black now.
Posted by Kitten Heels @ 10:51 pm | Link

Last night 

I can’t remember the last time I was so tired. I’m not hung over either. I knew there was a plus to not drinking.

The local Fireworks/Bonfire/Guy Fawkes Night display was deafening yet rubbish but what’s new? The Bloke Indoors and I went to a friends’ for a much nicer, warm, crackling bonfire and sparklers – the coloured kind. While I was busy writing my name in the air The Bloke leaned down and whispered If you get ready really quickly, I booked a table for dinner earlier…we have an hour and a half to get there.

This was at 7:30pm, my friends’ display hadn’t begun but they didn’t mind us sneaking off, it’s not like they’d choreographed something amazing. The Bloke was already dressed – it’s so easy for men it’s not fair: dark jeans, shoes, top that hangs just right and one of those jackets that’s simultaneously warm and smart. Oh well…we have nice shoes. This is why I found myself trying to straighten my hair and check my email while slipping my silky-stocking clad feet into platform round toe 4 inch heels while The Bloke made some calls all at once last night.

Can I multi-task or what?

I was ready in twenty minutes (a record for me) and I think I did pretty well; Straight hair, different black top, shortish black skirt, silky stockings and the most gorgeous deep and dark purple shoes. I had a silver bag. You’d ever love the combo or hate it, but it was all I had in twenty minutes. Oh, and the black lace underwear to match of course.

Going out to dinner may seem so normal to everyone, but we just don’t do it. We don’t go out for a meal of a night. Don’t know why. Just don’t. So to have this sprung on me was great. As I walked out to meet The Bloke he took me in his arms and kissed my cheek.

It was so ordinary, yet so perfect.

There is obviously a reason I’m so tired but this is getting far too long. I’ll tell you all about it soon.
Posted by Kitten Heels @ 9:49 pm | Link

Wednesday, November 01, 2006

If only 

If only I could have posted this yesterday...

It's cold enough to freeze a witch's tit out there!!! Brrrrr!

Would've been fantastic under yesterday's date. But never mind, I'll settle for today and a cappuccino with lots of chocolate on top.

Will try and post something else later on but I have (grumble grumble) a lot of work to do today and I need to try and get my arse in gear to do it.
Posted by Kitten Heels @ 6:52 pm | Link