Kitten Heels

moans and apologies

2007-08-08T21:16:00.000+01:00

I got a new computer a little while ago, unfortunately it is playing up already...not happy. I haven't downloaded anything funky and everything that should protect it from unwanted funkiness is up and running so sod knows what is up with it. The thing is, I would take it to one of those consultant things to get it fixed, but there are certain pictures on here that I don't particularly want said consultants to seeeeee.....bugger. It would of course be these kinds of files that will not open so I cant get rid.

Bugger.

Oh...and can I apologise for the unbelievably rubbish spelling, grammer and simple stringing together of sentences in the past couple of posts....it's summer-holiday syndrome I'm sure: No typing for college means I forget how!!!

hehe

Cleaning house

2007-08-06T20:59:00.000+01:00

So I've been doing a lot of cleaning recently. Mostly the kind of cleaning that involves sweeping things off shelves into bin bags because it's really just a shelf full of accumalated crap, I'm moving soon and its better to get it all out of the way...dontchya think?

I used to be quite a keen horse rider, I have a couple of rosettes and a mini trophy to my name (nothing bit, but fun), but more than that I have all the paraphenalia that a rider needs: hat, crop, boots, those nasty beige trousers and a really weird jacket. All of this has been in a box in the cupboard under the stairs for so long that it almost appeared part of the building.

Not three days ago, as I was on my knees purposfully pulling out junk and The Bloke lounged carelessly on the sofa watching telly I came across this ancient box and plonked it at his feet.

Out came my fetching yellow and blue silk cap which once covered my riding hat and (of course) out came my riding crop (which I've actually never used!)

"Hmmm..." He mused, tossing the cap onto my head "Now you can look like a real knob jockey...but I think that I'll look after the crop!"

This could be an interesting week......

Back (for good??)

2007-08-04T20:08:00.000+01:00

I've been gone a long while, I know, I do not plan on explaining why, but I am sorry about it.

I may be returning properly soon, fingers crossed on my part.

The Bloke and I are still together, I've sill not worn a pair of flats by choice, I'm still set to leave London at the end of this month and I'm still shitting it.

Oh, but I am 19 now!

Sorry I vanished from the land of blogging for a while, feel free to let me know how upset you are ;-)

2007-03-13T21:40:00.000Z

I haven’t been sleeping well the past couple of nights.

No - you dirty minded people - it isn’t because I’ve been busy having rampant sex. Neither is it that I’ve been having lots of ‘me’ time.

I have a problem.

I have a crush.

I’m not supposed to have crushes! I’m with The Bloke Indoors and he’s brilliant. We're brilliant. Nothing has changed between us, I still love him to bits and I still want to tear his clothes off the moment we’re alone (OK so that isn’t limited to being on our own), I’m still giddy and grinning whenever we speak.

But I still have this crush. He is called David and he moved to my class a couple of months ago after clashes between his class and his training sessions (the boy is an athlete!). We became close pretty much straight away; laughing, joking and generally taking the piss while learning a lot about each other and doing that ‘it’s fun to flirt when there is no real reason to’ flirting.

Side note: I’ve been told that we’re both natural flirts and that we seem to flirt extra with one another. I've not noticed....

The past couple of weeks I’ve started to notice small things about him: The way he lets me go through doors first. The way we both help each other out with work without even considering going to someone else. The way he picks up anything I drop. The way he smiles as soon as he sees me (the way I smile as soon as I see him). His strong arms. His brilliant eyes. His height (It’s all about height for me). The way he was genuinely concerned when I was a little moody the other day. The jokes that pass between us that are never shared with anyone else.

The list could go on forever.

I think I found him attractive from the moment I set eyes on him. I’ve just realised I fancy him.

I’m not sure if I’m allowed to have a crush (I’ve never had a crush while in a relationship before but that’s partly due to the fact that this is my first real long term and serious relationship).

I’m not sure I want a crush.

I don’t know what to do.

Music in my ears

2007-03-13T19:36:00.000Z

There is something about Amy Winehouse's voice that just makes me want to dance!

Take today. Almost empty train and I'm standing by the central pole in front of the door when she pops up on my iPod, I couldn't stop myself swinging my hips to the music as I held onto the pole to ride out the bumps. About halfway through I realise what I'm doing and promptly stop (I can't be dancing like that in public before the sun goes down! There is probably a decency law against it!). Thank God that there was only one other person on the carraige! Though he was giving me a slightly strange look as I stepped off!

Enjoy:

Good morning yawn

2007-03-10T22:20:00.000Z

Such a tired Kit I am today.

Last night was spent drinking after receiving the January exam results...We all did well!! (feel free to congratulate won't you?)

I did get drunk - stuff not drinking with results like that! It was time to party!

We rounded off the night in my favourite place, my favourite place out with other people I mean. It is dark, it has lots of good music, it's in a very fashionable place if you're my age and it has the best, and I mean the best comfy seating I have ever experienced in a public place.

I think I drank too many purple aftershocks (mix blue and red = divine)

I don't really remember leaving that place. I should remember. It has a large staircase on the way out and I was wearing reasonably high heels. I should remember because I would have expected to fall flat on my face if I even attempted them.

I do remember groping my friend (unitentionally) in the taxi as I attempted to get in. I also remember groping The Bloke Indoors (quite intentionally) as soon as said friend was dropped off outside her home. I also remember that he didn't try stop me in the slightest and that when I looked in the bathroom mirror later I had extremely smudged lipstick (Like I said celebrating...means drinking when I don't and wearing makeup that doesn't even belong to me).

I woke up this morning uncomfortable, sore and achy.

I woke up this morning still wearing my shoes, lying with my head hanging over the end of the bed.

I keep saying this morning. It was 2pm.

The Bloke Indoors had been out for a run, prepared food and was writing a letter to his bank about something.

I felt fucked. Completely 'I'm not moving for a month' fucked.

But I did move. Now I'm attempting to write this, but I don't think I'm really saying much.

I'm tired.

My feet and ankles hurt.

I'm also horny as hell.

I think I'm going to bed soon.

Goodnight.

Today

2007-03-06T20:03:00.000Z

Today I discovered the newest ‘rude thing to do on the tube (that doesn’t involve nakedness)’. But this one I actually agree with.

There was a woman painting her nails opposite me. That stinking nail polish on a tube, with heating on and all the ventilation thingies closed – cue migraine for me and the mother of all dirtiest looks for her.

I hope it all chips off as soon as she runs out of her favourite colour.

One last thing...

2007-02-25T21:11:00.000Z

What is with all the weird characters replacing the apostrophes in my posts? What happened and how the foof do I fix it?

Arghh!

2007-02-25T21:04:00.000Z

Would someone please mind explaining to me why I had to change to this 'new blogger' 15 minutes ago?

While the other one did cock up to my bastard eyebrows a couple of times I was just getting used to it! I didn't want to change!

But erm...does someone also want to tell me what is really different?

OK, semi-rant over with.

I'll go finish the last of that chocolate now. And brew a cup of orange mocha I think (It's much better than it sounds!)

Lazy

2007-02-25T20:58:00.000Z

I have had the most serious lazy day today. And I loved every lazy moment of it!

Woke up this morning at about 10am and was about to jump straight out of bed into the shower when I realised I had absolutely sweet FA to do. So why was I getting up and getting ready? Sod it I thought, I’m going to veg out and be a grungy little cow today. So it was back to bed for another couple of hours before groggily coming to and slithering downstairs for a much needed coffee.

I really have been a mucky cow today – I didn’t wash my hair and instead of spending a fair bit of time making myself look presentable with suitable clothing I flung on a pair of yoga pants and a t-shirt - sans bra. Then I lounged around in bed, iPod on (I really need to sort myself out some speakers for this thing at least!) with an unopened book and prepared to consume the whole thing, while also consuming the mother of all chocolate bars (the shops are prepared for Easter already kids – go grab the big bars!).

It takes a lot of effort to look decent every day ya’ know. I don’t mean make up, because I don’t wear any now. What I mean is the picking out of clothes, making sure they match, making sure they’re suitable for the day, the underwear which has to look good, feel good and (again) match, this time matching to both the other item of underwear and the clothes going on top. Finally there’s the perfume and jewellery to pick.

Don’t even get me started on picking the right shoes.

It’s all big effort and it’s all a big effort that I just couldn’t be arsed with this morning.

I think I’m going to get an early night as well, clean sheets and bare skin make for a happy me when I get up at half five tomorrow morning (or is that still tonight? Sometimes I really wonder). I have to be out by 7:30 and I don’t feel like drinking my coffee as I toddle along in my (low)heels tomorrow for the first time since I bust my ankle. So up earlier that the birds it is for me tomorrow.

Told you takes a lot of bloody effort. Two hours! Why couldn’t I have been born a man?

Oh and the book was great; The Time Traveller’s Wife by Aubrey Niffenegger. I cried my eyes out at the end.

Told you I was a girl.

Pancakes

2007-02-21T20:38:00.000Z

I am simply the mistress of pancake making! Oh yes. I can make not one, not two, but THREE pancakes at once!

In the same frying pan!

Of course not on purpose you understand...It only happens when the stupid flipping apparatus cuts through the pancake batter as I try to flip it and tears it into pieces! Then there's the other times when the pancake fails to flip (it's the pancakes' fault you understand - not mine) and instead folds in on itself to create a thick, battery lump.

I tried didn't I?

And I bought chocolate sauce especially to drip all over them!

Guess I'll have to find a nice - sticky - use for that another day.

I know there is something I want to tell you all about, but for the life of me I can't remember what it was! I'll remember soon I hope!

Look!

2007-02-20T18:17:00.000Z

I've been hard at work this afternoon.

I pasted a whole new template into blogger.

What do you think?

I kind of miss my blue eye but it brightens the place up a little dontchya agree?

Places...

2007-02-19T20:16:00.000Z

…I have performed sexual acts and/or had sex
· A bed
· A bedroom floor
· A shower
· A dressing table
· A number of trains
· A cinema
· A bus
· A bath
· A desk
· An uncomfortable chair
· A comfortable chair
· A park
· A lift (that’s elevator any dear Americans out there)
· In front of an open window
· In front of a camera

…I want to perform a sexual act and/or have sex
· A kitchen table
· A pool table
· Against a tree
· In a restaurant (preferably me under the table giving oral)
· An alleyway
· On a sex-swing
· In a car
· ON a car
· A changing room

I’m sure there are many more that I will think of as soon as I post this (not telling you which list they will belong to though!), but these are the immediate ones that spring to mind.

This post was inspired by Midnight's V-day poll.

Its Thursday now right?

2007-02-15T20:59:00.000Z

Well I did say I would be back Thursday, I just neglected to tell you which one!

I’m sorry, I’m a bad blogger and I need punishing.

But could you wait a while? I have cuts, scratches and bruises that kind of need to heal at the moment.

None are self-inflicted.

The ankle is much better (thanks for asking…) and I should be back in my heels very soon, though I might keep them low for a while, guess I will have to enlist the help of all you tall men out there to help me reach things while I’m short.

You’ll be pleased to know that I can kneel comfortably now, that’s with and without leaning on my hands in front of me. I have been testing this extensively the past few days. I do much prefer kneeling on a chair though; I can have my feet over the edge then while achieving a still wonderful result.

The Ankle!

2007-02-03T19:25:00.000Z

Last night, for the first night in three weeks, I went out. Without the cast!
Went for my appointment the other day, got the dose of radiation they promised me and out came the electric pizza slicer to free my poor little ankle. Problem? They then give me one of those tube support bandage things (white of course) and told me to wear it and still keep the weight off. Bugger it and shove it in a toaster.

In true girly fashion, the first thing Katy and I did was run (well, limp) down to the shops for a pack of fabric dye – black – and soaked the ugly little fucker until it looked remotely wearable. Now I have a strange, black legwarmer lookalike to wear. And of course, still no heels.

The solution? We decided to go out and see if I could still pull without dancing or walking. And of course, being half a foot shorter than normal. A purely social experiment of course - to see the effect of the bandage and lack of height and saunter.

Now I wasn’t going out with just one stocking/legwarmer/bandage thing on one leg so we devised a show-stopping outfit: The bandage was covered by black leggings, I wore a very short baby pink silk dress with a corseted top to it. The shoes? Why ballet dancer shoes my dears. I sewed extra pink ribbon to the existing and laced them all the way up my thighs. I looked almost naked from the waist upwards due to my pale skin and the contrast on my legs was unbelievable. Who needs to be able to walk in heels or dance?

So there I was, sitting on a stool at the bar, one ballet dancer slipper crossed over the other, sipping my drink while Katy, Anna, Rachel and Jess danced themselves to oblivion only six foot away from me. We’d been there about and hour and Anna and Katy seemed to be a little more interested in one another than anyone else, while Jess’ backside was grinding quite happily with a guy that that certainly looked pleased with himself to have his hands on her hips. While I was keeping an eye on two blokes that seemed to be arguing over which one was going to step over to Rachel, who was presently dancing with herself (I don’t know what I was going to do but I was watching) a tall, twenty-something guy with long dark hair and equally dark eyes stood beside me and smile a hello.

He moved a bit closer So why are you watching the dancing and not dancing yourself? A little ballet dancer like you?

Oh, you know, I said A ballet dancer has to look after her toes and save herself for her best performances

Really? We giggled. Then I guess He leaned into my ear, its best to keep you off your feet all night he winked Let me buy you a drink and then we can discuss the finer points of keeping a ballet dancer in the best possible shape.

With that Katy appeared from nowhere and told Tall Guy and me that it was time for us to go. Don’t forget, I’m taken; the purpose of tonight was just to see if it was possible to draw a guy in without my usual fashion.

Oh and since Tall Guy did insist on my taking his number and him escorting the five of us to our taxi, I think we can say our experiment was successful.

I’m officially away from tomorrow afternoon until Thursday.
Just to let you know.
Need to clean my brain.
And dirty the rest of me up a little.See you soon.

Wishes

2007-01-24T20:32:00.000Z

A little while ago (actually a long while ago but never mind) I said I would like a set of nipple clamps. Well, they say be careful what you wish for…and now I think I want them even more!

The Bloke Indoors was lying on his back, stretched out naked across the bed, he was watching as I sucked on his cock, almost to the base, knelt above him on the bed. He told me after that he was looking at how red my lips were against his skin. I was paying a lot of attention to him at that moment, my hand was playing with his balls - teasing at the skin and rolling them in my fingers as I held him in my mouth, sucking with my eyes closed in concentration, my tongue stroking the underside of the head. My speed was building and I felt his balls tightened in my hand. He grabbed my hair, he ran his fingers through it and pulled it taught, using my hair to push my head down as he wanted. Now I was becoming his human wank toy. I was sucking the same and playing with his balls, but now he controlled the speed as he moved his hips to fuck my mouth at the same time. Then…

‘What the fuck???’

I froze and looked him straight in the eyes, my mouth still around his cock, lips just under the swollen head. My eyes were wide; I had no idea what the problem was.

‘OK what the fuck is this?’ He had one of my hair slides in his hands, you might call them Kirby grips, I had used them to keep the hair out of my face during the day and now they were all around the bed as they fell out one by one.

‘Come here’ He said, he had that look in his eyes, and I crawled over to him straight away. ‘Sit up’ I knelt next to him*. He had two slides in his hands, that evil yet oh-so-wonderful glint sparkled in his eyes, he opened one of the slides and reached up to my right breast; the slide sprang closed around my nipple as he put in position. I did my best not to flinch but the surprise more than any pain made me jump. Then he did the left one, this hurt more, the slide wasn’t on my nipple as far as the other. I did my best not to squeak – he just smiled.

‘I like them’ he said ‘I wonder what this’ – he pulled down on the side of the slide – ‘would feel like?’ I jumped to the roof, my nipple twisted inside the metal and squeezed even smaller, it was just like when The Bloke pinches my nipples, only with a smaller area doing the twisting: It hurt.

But it was the kind of hurt that you think about later and find you’re getting wet in the middle of TOPSHOP (and it isn’t over new shoes!)

*This was just before I escaped the cabbie only to fall prey to a slippery pavement. Right now I cannot kneel properly – it’s a right prat.

Meat and..ermm...three veg!

2007-01-21T21:08:00.000Z

Nothing, nothing, beats a proper roast dinner. I’m speaking from experience of about an two hours ago and mmm that was a good’un. Roast lamb, herby new potatoes, swede and runner beans. Oh and don’t forget the gravy, I think I might have gone up a dress size during the meal but it was worth it!

The meal was a bit of a celebration as well as being your traditional Sunday roast, you see this week I finally finished my January exams. I know some people out there have more to go but I’m finished! Done! Over with! Yahoo! Because, contrary to popular belief, a foot in plaster and arms using crutches does not mean I get out of going to college or get out of exams. Nope, not for a second.

So in the week of the worst winds of my lifetime (I know they were worse in 1987 but I was simply a sparkle in an eye then) I had to hobble down the road on crutches to college in the pouring rain, unable, un-friggin-able, to hold up an umbrella! Even if I were only using one crutch it would have been hard going because I just wouldn’t have had the balance to keep the umbrella and myself up in one piece. You can imagine the picture can’t you? Sitting in the exam hall, plastered foot sticking out in the aisle, rain dripping off the crutches leant up against my chair and on top of it all my sopping wet hair dripping all over the paper, smudging the ink. Fantastic.

Oh and, while I’m on the subject can I ask, why is it that now I actually need a seat on the bus/tube I’m standing up even more? OK I know holding onto the pole and twirling is good for my physique but what happened to all the seats?!

One more thing, to all of you who have an exam or something equally stressful coming up. Nothing got me off to sleep better last week than a seriously good orgasm. Honestly, it kicks warm milk right out the window! (Literally if you put the glass in the wrong place!)

Moan

2007-01-12T21:05:00.000Z

Friday night with no one around, stuck indoors – fantastic.

I wouldn’t mind, except that I do.

I feel fidgety but don’t know what to do with myself, I don’t know what to blog about, I can’t go out and basically everything is buggered.

OK self-pity over and done with, what next?

Fairytale

2007-01-11T20:08:00.000Z

The Brother’s Girlfriend got Dita Von Teese’s book for Christmas, the lucky cow, and being the lovely girl she is, she dropped it round the other day for me to learn front to middle and back to middle.

I started back to middle – the fetish side vs. the burlesque side but I’m working my way around to the front!

Now something interested me while I was reading. The whole ‘damsel in distress’ thing. Dita says that this is her favourite role to play (I’m not quoting, I’m remembering, sorry if I get this a little tits up) and that it has a lot to do with girls’ upbringing and the material they are exposed to; the whole fairytale of being rescued by your prince charming, or being locked away and chained up by an evil sorcerer – that kind of thing.

One of my favourite fairytales when I was a little girl was Rapunzel and, of course, when Rapunzel was rescued from her tower the Prince climbed up her hair, pulling and yanking it all over the place. No surprise here then, that if The Bloke Indoors wraps my hair around his fingers and pulls it to within a second of being torn from my scalp that I’m in pure bliss?

I guess it’s all about primary/secondary socialisation, but fuck me blindfolded (no really - do) I really, really do love to have my hair pulled.

Oh and why Snap! Is here twice, I haven’t a clue, it isn’t under my posts as being published twice, it’s just there for your reading pleasure I guess.

Snap!

2007-01-08T22:44:00.002Z

Surprise! It’s me!

I’m sorry I disappeared again, but I did warn you right at the beginning I was rubbish at this diary malarkey didn’t I? Well I wasn’t away on purpose, and I wasn’t away for fun either.

You know those little side turnings you get off main roads? The ones with no crossings? The ones with no traffic lights? The ones that millions of people cross all at once? The ones that Cabbies always turn down without indicators? The ones with really uneven paving?

Do you see where I’m going with this?

I broke me bastard ankle didn’t I? (Well that might be an exaggeration, I have a small fracture, but it still hurts like hell!!)

Yep, step back quickly, slip on paving, twist + crack = hour or so at the hospital and a plaster cast for my troubles. But its one of those horrible white ones; I wanted a pink one, you know, like you used to get when you were little? Well I had a pink one when I was little!

Oh well, guess I can get people to write naughty messages all over my foot and show it off on the tube. The only real problem is that my toes are really cold!

The doctor said I should have it for three/four weeks then they would give it a dose of radiation and see what it looked like (told you it wasn’t as bad as I was making out - a real break is six at least!).

I know all this should mean I’m here more often but The Bloke has been doting on my like my own little nurse, and believe me, I’m going to let him use his thermometer on me as many times as he feels is necessary!

(Wow that was cheesy…but I love it!)

Snap!

2007-01-08T22:44:00.000Z

No party to remember

2007-01-01T21:26:00.000Z

Happy New Year, hope you all had fun last night? Despite the rain, gale force winds and lightning strikes that is?

The Bloke Indoors picked me up last night armed with a heeuuuge golf umbrella, despite the fact it wasn’t raining anymore, and informed me that the party we were going to had been cancelled – it was a garden type thing complete with fireworks and bonfire, which (of course) were now ruined. The new plan was to meet up in Covent Garden with a couple of others then walk to Embankment and attempt to find a place to watch the fireworks there (we were determined to see fireworks!!).

Cue change of costume (woohoo no need to worry about the dress + underwear issue!) Half an hour later, with a hat to cover the mess I had made of my hair in the kafuffle, we were walking down the road, one hand warm from holding his, the other going red with cold, because I (as usual) forgot my gloves.

Later in the evening we were (quite a way!) up the river from the Eye waiting for the countdown, we could see it and even in my sober state (compared to my companions) I joined in the 10!…9!…8!… until the fireworks blew.

Blinkin’ hell! They were some fireworks. I don’t know about oohs and ahhs I was expecting screams and fitting! Ten minutes of seriously big, bright and colourful bangers, with boats that looked like they were on fire whizzing up and down The Thames like they had rockets shoved up their arse. Wait, they did. OK, fair play. It was great really!

As we flinched and clapped and shivered and shielded our eyes and puked against the wall (not me or The Bloke I assure you), I leant back against The Bloke’s body and his arms enveloped me to him. His lips brushed my cheek with a kiss and in a deep, breathy voice he said in my ear,

“Happy 2007 Kit, this year your body’s mine and I’m going to use it however and whenever I want to.”

When I looked up at him, he had that evil glint in his eye, the evil glint that I love so much. You can’t get more romantic than kissing in front of the New Year’s fireworks on the Thames after your boyfriend tells you he’s going to fuck you like mad all year long. He has such a way with words does The Bloke Indoors.

Happy New Year!!!!

2006-12-31T18:27:00.000Z

Happy New Year!

Gotta run, The Bloke Indoors is picking me up in an hour and I have yet to solve the problem of a tight dress and visible underwear.

Fill you in soon.

Enjoy your night!

The things you notice...

2006-12-29T19:32:00.000Z

Can you spot someone with a fetish if they don’t openly show it? I think I may have today.

Picked up some bargains in the sales today – beware of the shoppers, they are deadly! Anyway, on the bus on the way home I was sitting opposite your stereotypical ‘man with a sexy* little secret’ and I really think he might just have one.

Now stereotypes are rubbish because they’re never right, but it was one of those things; the more I thought about it, the more this guy fit that stereotype. He was a middle-aged, slightly balding businessman, combined with the gold-rimmed glasses and the unkept moustache; he just fit the bill.

Now the fetish part? Well, while sitting through the wickedly long journey (no, not wicked in a good way) the guy decided to catch up on some work: out comes a large ring binder – covered in rubber bands holding various pieces of paper to the front and inside covers, plus two holding the whole thing together. Nothing really strange I suppose, until he took off the two bands holding the folder in place. Nope, nothing on the inside that surprised me, it was what he did; he wound the bands around his fingers and began to caress them with his thumb. A little while later, he wound them round again to tighten them and carried on with his stroking – rubber anyone?

Maybe I was letting my mind wander, I was definitely paying too much attention to him instead of my book (The Shining – not enjoying it), but the thought of this man, having his little helping of fetish (if he actually was) on the bus amused me quite a bit.

*Instead of dirty, because that’s just not right.

Festivities

2006-12-28T18:41:00.000Z

Christmas. A time for loving, sharing and, unfortunately, no nookie. The Bloke Indoors and I both have demanding families; demanding in that they demand our presence on Christmas Eve, Christmas Day and Boxing Day. So instead of being together when loved ones are supposed to be, we get stuck with parents, grandparents, auntie/uncle types and siblings. So NOT the Christmas we want.

The answer we usually come up with (and did again this year) is to give our presents a few days earlier, grab some mistletoe, have some kisses and cuddles and basically do the Christmas thing together before everyone else (ahead of the fashion – that’s us). It is quite a nice thing to do; romantic, private and no need to worry about opening something you shouldn’t in front of Grandma!

Saying that, I was under strict orders from Katy that the gifts she bought were to be opened either with The Bloke or out of sight of anyone disapproving i.e. my entire family. It was decided that I would open them alone because the early Christmas was just about us. So at about half 1 on Christmas day after all the presents were opened downstairs I snuck upstairs with the preface of trying on the clothes I had been bought. There were three gifts from Katy in a range of sizes – none (you dirty minded people) were shaped remotely rabbit-like. So, reindeer antlers on head, I sat cross-legged on my bed and ripped savagely at the glittering paper that enclosed some secret (forbidden) prizes.

Well, I’ll give you credit, you might not have been too far off with the rabbit guess, after all the instructions did include opening with The Bloke didn’t they? The first (and smallest. Because smallest = best or because I’m building up? Who knows) was some delicious chocolate body dust that we had been sighing over in Ann Summers just a couple of weeks ago. You have to smell it to understand just how good it is, plus the dusting thing is divine. The biggest (what about the medium? I’m all out of sync), was a pack of ravish candles, massage creams and oils. The creams smell unbelievable – chocolate, strawberry and caramel. By now I’m pretty sure my good ol’ mate is on an Ann Summers mission, so I’m fully expecting something else from the range, but I was never so happy with a gift from my friend as I was when I opened the last one:

Two, big, black feather fans.

I love them. I wanted them. I convinced myself I needed them. Now I have them!

Katy you really are a star.

Oh and another thing you horrible, horrible lot out there…I make you a lovely card and not one of you wishes me a Merry Christmas…. I’ll remember that!

2006-12-22T16:53:00.000Z

Remember me?

2006-12-20T21:05:00.000Z

Wow it’s been a long time since I last posted anything.

The last couple of weeks of term have been manic: Coursework deadlines, revision classes, end of topic tests and, of course, mock exams (completely different from tests but just as stressful). Just two more days to go though and I’ll be free for the holiday - hurrah!

I’ll do my best to post something more substantial soon.

Promise.

If I don’t you can ask The Bloke Indoors if you can spank me.

Ooooh

2006-12-11T21:24:00.000Z

Well you will never guess what I saw today?

Now I know I moaned about everyone reminding me about how close Christmas is the other day. but that doesn't mean that I don't like Christmassy things...

Carol singers!

A whole bunch! Singing around the heeeuuuuggeee (if slightly crappily decorated) tree at Waterloo station today there was a group of carol singers. There was also a few people with charity buckets as well. I have to apologise to them all; I was in a massive rush (as most people are at train stations) and didn't get a chance to listen, see who they were raising money for or even give them any money. I'm sorry.

But the fact that there was a whole bunch around a Christmas tree with Santa hats on was really nice!

Friends that are boys (again!)

2006-12-10T20:47:00.000Z

Not so sure about that ‘elephant in a room’ theory about Harry and me. Him, Anna, The Bloke Indoors and I went to pub after college on Thursday. As we sat in around a table, me cuddled up to The Bloke (half asleep I have to admit) he announced that he has a new girlfriend (guess what? I woke up).

Her name is Chloe and she works in the same coffee shop that he told me he liked me in. Apparently they hit it off a few weeks ago and he finally plucked up the courage to ask her out on a date last weekend.

Yep that’s two days after we spoke.

They went out, they ate, they drank, they kissed…they did a little bit more than kissed and apparently they’ve done that little bit more every day since. Good on Harry.

Its strange, though, I’m almost kind of annoyed that the cheeky git moved on so fast – the way he made it out to me when we spoke was that he had some massive crush on me and couldn’t sleep, eat or think of anything else (seriously, it was a Hollywood moment). Not some stupid one-wank half-thought of an attraction.

To think I was worried things would have to change.

(Look! Two posts in one day! Aren’t you lot lucky…)

Strange little bug

2006-12-10T18:46:00.000Z

Something a little strange that I just can’t quite figure out myself. It’s been bugging me and I figured that this is the perfect place to get rid of it.

No it isn’t an equation I can't balance.

Something The Bloke Indoors and I have discussed and decided against is a threesome. We think that it has to be something you are both completely 100% sure about other wise it could cause problems. Well we decided that both of us have reservations about it and don’t want to include anyone else in our beds at the moment, and probably not ever.

And yet, lately, I can’t stop myself thinking about it while I’m playing with myself and (it has to be said) the thought of it makes me come hard and fast. But, there again, when I think about what I’ve thought about while my hand is between my legs I’m not very happy with it – I just don’t like the idea.

The scene I tend to have in my mind is of me, kneeling on the bed – blindfolded – The Bloke Indoors behind me, teasing my cunt with the end of his cock; gently pushing himself an inch inside me and then pulling out, holding my hips hard so I can’t push back on him as I’m longing to do. The he leans over my back, his hands crawling up my body to my breasts; fingers twisting my nipples, I think I hear the door but I’m not sure because The Bloke is whispering in my ear:

“I want you to do something, you haven’t done it before, but I want you to do it. I want to see you suck someone else’s cock while I fuck you. I want to watch you take someone else’s cock in your mouth and devour it like you do mine while I doggy fuck you hard. There is someone else here, when you feel his cock on your lips: suck it.”

And so as The Bloke Indoors finally allows me to feel his length inside me I feel soft flesh touching my lips, I open my mouth and as The Bloke thrusts my mouth slides down the mystery man’s cock.

I imagine feeling The Bloke’s fingers digging into my hips as this other man grabs my hair, pulling me even further onto him as I suck and moaning with pleasure. The Bloke is speaking, telling me what I look like and calling me dirty names…

This is usually where it ends, although I have had some more elaborate thoughts. I just don’t know why something I wouldn’t go for in the flesh appeals for me so much when I’m on my own?

Saying that…maybe my girl on girl test was flawed?

Sing to me

2006-12-09T17:39:00.000Z

“I can hear her heels clicking on the sidewalk – beating to the rhythm of my heart. Ohoh You, You’re the only one I want. Mhhmm.”

Every evening, on my way home, I have to walk past one bus stop to get to mine after I finish my train journey. If there aren’t any delays then the same guy will be waiting at that first stop as I walk past every single day. This particular day, as I tottered my way past him he began singing this little tune.

(For the uneducated, it’s Overload, sung by Zappacosta [I think])

I couldn’t help but give him a sideways glance and the slyest of smiles as I past him and heard the words, not only was he singing about me, he was singing about my shoes…AND the song was from Dirty Dancing! Seriously, I was a happy Kit.

I was…until I sung the rest of the song to myself and let my paranoia get the better of me….

“I follow you home every night, just to make sure that you get there alright. Baby its true. Can’t think of anything but you.”

For crying out loud. He was getting a different bus to me! He did every night, he wasn’t following me - he was singing a song! But that didn’t stop me clenching my fists ever so slightly as I walked along and alerting my *ahem* kitten/spider senses to every dark figure behind be in the usually unthreatening dark streets.

Why did the stupid song have to have stalker lyrics? I was very happy being sung to. I didn’t need it spoiled!

Slap happy

2006-12-06T21:52:00.000Z

I have a bad habit of taking my jeans off with the belt still around them. Sheer laziness is the only excuse I have - when I get undressed of an evening I can’t be arsed to pull that strip of leather away from my body (unless of course it is for someone else to see) and so I leave it there until I get up and decide whether or not I want that belt the next day.

I got a bit of a surprise when I did it last night. The particular belt I had on was thick, black leather one, with a horseshoe metal buckle. As I stepped from my jeans yesterday, they lay in a crumpled heap in front of me, the belt hanging limply from its loops. I’m not quite that messy, so I picked them up to fold and put to the side for laundry later on. I picked them up and shook the legs straight. I shook them like mad. I shook them so bloody hard that the end of the belt came out of the loop and thwacked me right around the top of my left thigh.

Bastard thing.

Getting slapped by a belt is definitely not as pleasurable when you do it to yourself by accident.

You don't say already!!

2006-12-04T16:51:00.000Z

Apparently…apparently…there are three weeks left ‘til Christmas. Not that you would notice. I mean its only written in every single newspaper, mentioned on every news broadcast, plastered across adverts to every shop and the first thing on the lips of every child old enough to know how to count and/or read a calendar.

I get the picture already, and you know what? I don’t really want to hear it!

Over. And over. And over again.

As it happens, I’m almost completely set for the festivities; I have only 3 presents left to buy, 2 cards and the wrapping paper – all of which will take place some time next weekend I believe. You can’t say I’m unorganised.

My problem is sidetracking. Take Saturday - an afternoon shopping trip with Katy down the West End to find something for relatives. What did it turn into? An ogling session at some new underwear shops we found that we didn’t know existed near Soho! They were bloody expensive though, the bra that I resisted drooling onto was £165 and I didn’t even look at the bottoms that matched. All I can say to describe the kind of stock they had was silk, ornamental and fetish-wear all mixed in to one to cater for all your needs. It was heaven in a shop!

And yes. They even sold shoes.

I’ve decided I want a pair of those things that just cover your nipples; I don’t know what they’re called (how crap am I?). I’m also thinking perhaps a pair of clamps with a chain connected so The Bloke Indoors can ‘lead’ me around the room.

Katy bought a green bra and thong set from Topshop while we were supposed to be in Topman looking at jeans.

We’re as bad as each other.

But good at it.

Bugger

2006-11-26T22:24:00.000Z

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....

Ticked

2006-11-25T21:37:00.000Z

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.

Boys that are friends

2006-11-23T21:34:00.000Z

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.

Aye?

“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?

Revealed (revisited)

2006-11-22T17:48:00.000Z

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)

Last night part two (revistited)

2006-11-21T19:18:00.000Z

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)

Why?

2006-11-15T21:43:00.000Z

Why have 3 of my posts disappeared?

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

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

Arse.

Will re-write....

Change of plan

2006-11-11T19:33:00.000Z

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.

Changed

2006-11-06T22:51:00.000Z

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.

Last night

2006-11-06T21:49:00.000Z

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.

If only

2006-11-01T18:52:00.000Z

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.

Left in the dark

2006-10-29T19:44:00.000Z

Anna wants us all to go to a club she's heard of but there is a problem - she doesn't know the name of it. Judging by here description it's going to have an obvious one, but nope we haven't the foggiest

Apparently, the whole place is pitch black with no lights and you spend the whole night dancing up close and personal with people you can't see. Anyone ever heard of it? Anna seems very enthused about it but I can’t decide whether or not it sounds incredibly sexy or a little too much like speed dating gone clubbing.

Maybe by the time we find out what it is and where to find it everything will become clear (or dark?) and maybe, just maybe, this bastard cold will have cleared up as well.

If only I had been born a man, I could have a week off college and say I had come down with 'man-flu'.

Clearance

2006-10-28T21:54:00.000+01:00

I told you one of my biggest fears was my mum finding my toys. Today I figured the best way to lower the risk of that actually happening would be to lower the number I actually had.

So I visited my secret stash and tested and assessed each and every one of my toys and decided which I was going to throw out. I’d actually forgotten about some that were in there. I can’t believe how many don’t even work anymore.

On the ‘to go’ pile is a pink rabbit, a purple dildo, a small ‘life-like’ cock vibe plus a clit kit. Don’t forget the silver anal probey thing and the red finger vibe. Those I just don’t use much anymore.

I have left one blue rabbit, one green nymph vibe, a sliver jelly dildo, a purple ribbed vibe, a blue multi-pulsing vibe (divine) and a knicker critter (so far unused). This is without ‘additions’ that I wouldn’t use on my own.

Now I’m faced with a problem. I have made these two lists. But how does one dispose of sex toys? I’ve never done it and I’m a little worried about just dumping them in the rubbish. What if the bag opens just as the bag is chucked in the rubbish van at the same time some little old lady and a group of school kids are walking past? Also, are they recyclable? Nope, not a good idea.

Then I’m thinking to myself that I don’t even want to get rid of them. They hold memories. One of them is my first ever sex toy. Another is the first The Bloke Indoors ever used on me. Then there are the two of them that were used at the same time while I sucked him. No, I don’t think I even want to get rid of them.

Maybe I should just buy a safe for the lot and put it in my wardrobe so that only I can get to them?

Judgement

2006-10-27T21:46:00.000+01:00

The verdict is in. Cinnamon coffee is divine. Three huge mugs of it one after another will leave you with a nice little bit of coffee induced silliness. I recommend cream on top for those who do not care about their figure, or those who plan to work it off later (Preferably by licking the rest of what’s left in the can off of their other half’s body. I know, I know. It’s been done plenty of times. It’s been said more times than it’s been done. But you have to admit…it feels bloody good.)

The other verdict coming in is that I think I’m succumbing to this ‘orrible cold that everyone seems to be getting at the moment. I’m not happy about it. The Bloke Indoors is away for the rest of the week so I suppose that gives me time to dose up on oranges and other fruity goodness to try and get rid of it but it’s just not the point. I’m stuck indoors for the rest of the weekend with a box of tissues and fruit (oh and my coffee). I would really like to go one year - just one sodding year - without getting a cold. But I suppose I only have myself to blame, I do seem to only go out on days when it’s about to pour with rain.

And I’m not wearing a suitable jacket.

And I haven’t got an umbrella.

Seriously did anyone else get caught in it on Wednesday? It wasn’t fun. I end up with a very soggy newspaper.

I blame the weatherman.

Grumble

2006-10-26T20:29:00.000+01:00

None of you even attempted to guess what my favourite orange coloured fizzy drink is...grumble grumble I'm going to go sulk now.

Or just go and try out the new spicy cinnamon coffee I bought today...mmm much better idea, then I'll think of something more interesting to do I think.

Shhh don't talk about it!

2006-10-26T16:57:00.000+01:00

Nearly three years ago Belle penned (or typed) the words “Anal is the new black”. For some reason I’ve been thinking about this the past couple of days. You see, I don’t think anal is the new black…I think anal is the new oral.

Bear with me now.

I’m not saying anal is replacing oral as a physical act, I mean as a discussion topic and even as a labelling act (unfortunately). It used to be that giving a man a blowjob was a disgusting thing that you would never ever do but if, for some reason, you ‘accidentally’ ended up doing it, you would definitely not admit it. To anyone.

Well that’s where anal has replaced oral.

Nowadays (oh God I’m turning into that 80 year old again aren’t I?), getting your lips around a throbbing cock is acceptable. You don’t brag about it (well you might if Katy or me are your mates), but it’s perfectly OK to say that you may have, once or twice, allowed someone to place his penis in your mouth. For fucks sake you can swallow as much as you like too! The thing you must never even mention, unless you are slagging someone else off of course, is having, or even dreaming about having anal sex.

Then you’re a whore. No, not just a whore. Oh no. You’re a skanky, nasty, dirty little slutty whore who takes it up the arse in back alleys to anyone who offers it to you. Oh yes, all that, and more if you know particularly articulate girls.

Ready for the twist? It’s just like it was with oral. Everyone is doing it. No one will admit to it.

Case in point. I was in Harmony the other day talking to one of the assistants about a rather scary looking spiky cock ring (…thing) and we got onto the subject of anal. It was kind of like:

Her: Have you noticed that it seems all men are obsessed with anal? (said with a disgusted look on her face)

Me: Yes! It seems like all they want to do it! Do they not realise the actual purpose of the vagina? (Add equally disgusted look)

Her: I know! Honestly we should shove one of these (picks up large dildo) up their arses and see what they say!

Me: (laughing) We really should.

The disgusted look did not make it to the eyes, we both knew what the other was saying: Anal, bless it, is fantastic. We just can’t admit it and that later on that night we would be begging our respective others to fuck us up the arse. Hard.

And the stupid thing? We were in a shop devoted to sex, half of the toys were bloody well designed for anal! I wonder if she was making a real suggestion with the dildo? I know The Bloke Indoors is pretty open for experimentation but I think 9” is a bit much even for him!

Love/Hate

2006-10-22T21:39:00.000+01:00

I’m assuming now that anyone who’s ever been to London will have at one point visited Covent Garden.

Now I have a love/hate relationship with this place. It’s fantastic. The little side streets branching off in all directions that The Bloke and I can get lost in, the great shops (both quirky and mainstream), the market, the opera singer, the restaurants and best of all the street entertainers!

They’re fantastic! For about £7 (if you want to cough up the cash of course!) you can watch an entire afternoon of shows, get your arse slapped by a jolly green monster man and get blessed by a fairy! If they’re out the day you go of course, it might be someone new other times, but there are always magicians, dancers, fire-eaters and those statue people standing all over the place…I love it!

Now why do I hate it? People that have been there think about it. Think carefully. Any ideas? Picture it in your mind…now look at the floor.

Covent Garden is hell for anyone not wearing trainers or completely flat shoes i.e. Me.

I toddle around it in my heels looking like a complete fool trying simultaneously not to slip on the cobbles, not to get my heel stuck in the gap between the cobbles, to pay attention to the change in texture of different floor surfaces and to simply not trip on uneven surfaces.

Add to this fact yesterday (Saturdays are always madhouses anyway), brainiac here decided to meet The Bloke Indoors wearing these, I had a little bit of difficulty.

Still I got a nice photo frame off of one of the stalls from the market.

Like I said at the start, it’s totally love/hate.

Mind reader

2006-10-22T18:02:00.000+01:00

I was facing the wall. My arms bracing me against the bed as I knelt over his face. The Bloke Indoors had been using his tongue on me for a blissfully long time and I was so close to coming I could have cried, but I needed something a little bit more. I needed something inside me. As if reading my mind, he slid his fingers deep inside me, at the same time sucking my clit into his mouth and nibbling ever so gently on it.

I came so hard I got cramp in my feet.

Back up against the wall

2006-10-19T21:29:00.000+01:00

It was so hot being that close to him. My chin just resting above his shoulder, his lips brushing across my ear as he moved his head. I felt his hot, steamy breath whisper into my ear, any words were unrecognisable over the other noises of the moment. We both shifted at the same moment and ended up pressed even closer together, his thigh between my legs now, my back against the wall.

Is anyone watching us? I wonder suddenly.

Of course they’re not, they’re getting on with their own business, couples, friends and strangers alike. All breathing deep and steamy breaths, pushing themselves closer to one another in simultaneous movements.

My partner was getting restless, pushing me up against the wall wasn’t enough anymore, he wanted to move, to move me with him - he had to we were so delicately entwined now.

Turning together, without even parting, we end up facing the same way, my backside quite expertly placed in front of his groin.

The time is getting closer; soon we will do something even more surprising than turn around. Not just us though, many are getting restless.

The train stops at the very last stop, the doors slide open and we all slide off, finally splitting from our partners, probably never to see them again.

Oh the joy of rush hour.

Stupid?

2006-10-18T19:58:00.000+01:00

I’ve re-read yesterday’s post and I realise how utterly stupid I must have sounded.

Of course I felt turned on by the smell of certain boys and not others, its friggin biology. All those pheromones telling me which male would be the best to mate with to produce good offspring and all that.

I told you I was feeling bastard broody didn’t I?

I suppose the strangeness is that I was noticing the smell more than I would have thought I would – is it time for me to make my babies?

Like good ol’ gub gub said – practice is always good and I don’t need those smelly boys for that!

sniff sniff

2006-10-17T20:28:00.000+01:00

Having a weird day. I can’t decide if it’s good or if it’s bad.

I was sitting in the library at college reading what has turned out to be a fantastic book. I was sitting in a seat that was being passed by a constant stream of people as they left the library for their lessons or just because they’d just had enough of whatever they were doing. Then it struck me.

Sweat.

Everyone that passed me had an unmistakable odour about them and it really wasn’t perfume. I don’t know what it was about me today but my nose was feeling unusually sensitive and I could definitely smell every single person that walked past me. Distinctly.

But this wasn’t the problem. The problem was (perhaps still is) that with a select few, this smell was bothering me in the slightest. It wasn’t causing me to try and breathe through my mouth or even wrinkle my nose in the slightest (not that I would but for perspective you see). Nope, on the contrary – the smelly bastards were turning me on.

I’m usually an aftershave girl. Or a once-I-get-to-know-your-body scent girl. Random body odours don’t do it for me. Except of course for today. Certain male bodies at my college had a scent about them that we definitely making me squirm in my seat and causing me to let my mind wander off of my not-so-squirmy novel. While others…well lets just say they didn’t. And it was definitely just the males too.

It’s strange and it may require some more investigation.

And

2006-10-15T20:02:00.000+01:00

I forgot to add...

I've known the entire dance and every word to the soundtrack of Dirty Dancing since I was 13. It was just on channel 5...Where's my CD?

Have I told you about me yet?

2006-10-15T19:03:00.000+01:00

I don’t think I have. Should I? Maybe a little bit.

I’m Kit (I know you know, but all introductions begin with a name)

I’m 18. My parents can’t accept the fact I’m not a their little girl anymore, though I have to say, if being their little girl means getting my laundry done I’m all for it!

My favourite drink its orange and fizzy but doesn’t taste of orange. Can you guess what it is?

I live and breathe London; I can walk through it all day long and never get lost.

That’s a lie I get lost all the time, but I can always find my way home – just like a cat.

I cannot describe what The Bloke Indoors is to me. He simply is. I love him.

I’m getting broody and it won’t go away, it’s beginning to scare me.

I love chemistry - it’s my favourite subject.

I hate chemistry lessons – they never end.

I love it when The Bloke takes control – I will always be his slave, unless he tells me not to be (but isn’t that the same???)

The first time I felt a leather paddle on my arse I screamed and flew off the bed.
Then crawled back over for more.

I want to have sex in the kitchen. I don’t know why but I really, really do.

I’m a poor student with no job. I’m sorry. I’m trying to get one I promise.

I had killer leopard print shoes. I wore down the heels. I’m gutted.

I do not understand why some people do not like giving or receiving oral. Each to their own and all that. But I just don’t get it.

No, I do get it, that’s why I like it; I don’t understand why they don’t like it.

Next year I leave home for university. I can’t wait.
I’m terrified about leaving home for university next year.
(how obvious was that?)

I love reading, if that reading involves a little sexiness then that’s great. If there are pictures along with that sexiness then that’s not so great. I think it has something to do with me once finding something that looked a little too much like my brother for comfort.

I quite like it when people read over my shoulder on the train. I like to see their reactions.

I hate rush hour trains.

I have a favourite bus route.

I miss route masters.

I prefer to walk everywhere.
In 3inch+ heels.

I where flats when said 3inch+ heels have rendered me unable to walk in anything but flats.

If you need directions around London from me I will give them to you via coffee shops, you have been warned.

Mmm saying that I really would like to play under the table in a restaurant.
(Its strange the things I’ve done with The Bloke and the things I haven’t which would seem so simple).

I’m a little bit worried about a piece of CCTV footage that may or may not exist.

The Bloke Indoors was my sexual awakening.

My biggest fear is my mum finding my toys.

I’ve already found hers. It’s not a pleasant experience.

This has become a longer than I planned. Sorry about that.

Weeeeeeeeeee

2006-10-12T19:01:00.000+01:00

Tell me this doesn't look fun?

Told you.

Bad day

2006-10-11T19:41:00.000+01:00

Things that went wrong today:

1. I lost the butterfly clip for the back of my earring when I had exactly 3 minutes to leave in order to get to the station on time.

2. I didn’t get to the station on time.

3. The train I got (later than normal) broke down.
i. Mid way between stations.
ii. Decided to go backwards
iii. Made me drop my breakfast when it broke down (again) whilst going backwards

4. It decided to piss down with rain – the kind that bounces a foot off the floor even though the weatherman predicted ‘showers’. My light jacket was soon soaked to my freezing skin.

5. I also slipped and twisted my ankle rather publicly (as a consequence of the rain)

6. The battery on my iPod completely died, no Fratellis for me today.

7. I saw something I didn’t want to see in a public toilet.

8. I didn’t make it into the student lock in at Office… 20% off and a goody bag for first 50 students with valid NUS and I didn’t get in!!

Bugger it all and shove it in a toaster.

And don’t anyone dare say things can only get better.

Little Words

2006-10-09T22:22:00.000+01:00

I saw something fantastic today and I have only four words to say about it:

Tate Modern Slide - weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!

Just a little funny

2006-10-07T17:24:00.000+01:00

I saw this over on Link bunnies yesterday and it's pretty much a mixture of funny, disturbing and utterly disgusting quotes...Makes a good half hours worth of reading I think!

Enjoy!

Editing?

2006-10-07T16:35:00.000+01:00

It's driving me mad!

I've created a couple of websites from scratch before, nothing major, just little things that don't even exist anymore, but for some reason editing the bloody template for this thing is beyond me!

Is it actually hard? Or is it just too simple for me to work out? I just want to look a little original, is that so bad?

I can see how to do it, the where's and what now’s of it, but every time I try and do something I seem to delete something a little important and lose half of the page - now I'm pretty sure that isn't supposed to happen.

Grumble grumble. One of these days I'll sort it out I'm sure.

Or at least I hope.

Something Weird?

2006-10-06T21:06:00.000+01:00

Apparently I’m in the minority of women.

The Bloke Indoors, Katy, Claire and Anna all think there is something slightly weird about me. Why? Because I wouldn’t sleep with a woman.

Now they don’t think that all women are full on bisexuals, but they do think that given the opportunity, pretty much any woman would jump at the chance for some girl-on-girl action. I really wouldn’t. I don’t know what it is but women just don’t turn me on. Is there something wrong with me? They seem to think there is, and I’m a little worried that they may try and test my claims.

I tried testing myself the other night (always experimenting!). Lying in bed, on my own, I was playing with my favourite toy and began a line of thought to see what led to the best kind of feelings and prompted me to change pace during play – quite a good experiment I think you’ll agree.

I began thinking of being on a massive bed, cool cotton sheets beneath me, completely naked and slightly snoozing on my own when I feel the weight of someone else on the bed, turning so that I’m on my side I see there is a woman. She’s tall, curvy and is just as naked as me. She has breasts larger than mine, but I’m not jealous, she moves close to me so that we’re just touching; our nipples gently pressing against each other’s. Her hair is tied back out of her face to reveal her face. She has a look that says she has a secret – following her gaze I see her hand drifting across the small triangle of pubic hair she has before sliding down in-between her now open thighs. My hand rests on her breast, I trace her nipple with my finger, watching it grow harder beneath my touch. I squeeze her nipple gently between my fingertips before letting my hand slide down her body. She moves in to kiss me, her soft lips opening mine to let her tongue explore my mouth. My hand replaces hers between her thighs, feeling her warmth and wetness along her inner lips I find her clit hidden beneath her tiny hood. Her hand slides into the same position on me and we find a rhythm together, while our legs interlock we kiss and use our fingers on each other, our breathing quickening with our movements…

In the real world now, not a lot is happening. I’m not exactly turned off I’ll admit that, but I’m certainly not getting any more pleasure from my undercover antics than I was before I started to think about my mystery woman.

So lets wave goodbye to her.

The door opens and in walks The Bloke Indoors. We freeze. He gives a coy smile; “She’s mine, off you pop” And, since it’s make-believe, she simply disappears. The Bloke is fully dressed in work clothes. I sit up and begin to unbutton his shirt, pressing my body up against his chest as his shirt falls open around him. I kiss him gently on his lips, he pulls me into a more passionate kiss and my hands move to his trousers, I can feel his hard on through his fly and quickly unzip him, desperate to feel him, my hand slides down his cock, pulling back his foreskin to reveal a glistening head.

Mmm why would I want a wet pussy when I could have this? We stay like this for a while, kneeling together, enjoying a kiss like long lost lovers, my hand stroking him slowly before it gets too much and I want him properly. I pull him back on the bed by his open shirt and make him lay on his back. Kneeling above him I suck him into my mouth as he lies back on the bed, his trousers still somewhere around his knees. As I begin to trace my tongue around him, tasting him, drinking him, devouring him, his hand rests on my bum, stroking me, sliding down between my legs.

Me: “Leave me I’m playing”

Him: “So am I. Keep sucking.”

I curl my finger and thumb around the bottom of him like a cock ring and follow the movements of my mouth with it, sucking him in long slow strokes, letting my tongue circle around the his swollen head as his foreskin rides up over the top. All the time his fingers are playing with me too, pushing deep inside me from behind, rubbing against my g-spot, making me shudder with pleasure.

Him: “Get on top. I want to feel you come on top of me”

In the real world? Well there is a bit more of a reaction than to the idea of the woman – ‘nuff said.

Conclusion: I’m strictly heterosexual in my mind. I suppose to really prove it takes physical proof but we’ll see about that another time.

Off out now. See you tomorrow!

Babies

2006-10-01T19:16:00.000+01:00

I'm feeling seriously broody and it isn't good.

I'm 18 years old for crying out loud I don't want a baby. So why every time someone pushes a pram past me with a tiny, screwed-up-faced newborn do I start wishing it was mine?

I used to banish these thoughts simply by thinking of dirty nappies and sleepless nights but it doesn't work anymore. I want a sprog.

ARRRRGGGHHHH! NO I DON'T!!!!

I want to go to university and have some fun before 'lumbering myself', as my parents would put it, with a baby, and I know that I can't look after one right now. Bloody hell I only just started doing my own washing!!! But every time I see those gorgeous, chubby, snoozing, sobbing wonderful little bundles being carried down the street I just want one dammit.

Got to find a way to stop thinking like this!

Don't tell The Bloke Indoors whatever you do, he won't come near me with a barge pole.

In the News

2006-09-30T13:34:00.000+01:00

I’ve been reading a lot of news recently. Four papers a day in fact. I can’t help it, there’s the three free papers that get thrown at me while I’m travelling during the day and the one waiting for me when I get in. I’ve come to the conclusion that my the guy who collects my recycling either thinks “wow she reads a lot of news” or “for fucks sake how much more do I have to carry down the bastard street”. I think I’m becoming a news junkie.

Good thing or bad thing?

Something I’ve seen a lot of is this size zero debate. Now I’m nowhere near a size zero and you know what? I don’t want to be! I know that some women have naturally smaller frames than others and so are slimmer but a size zero just isn’t natural and to be that small will take serious dieting that just doesn’t seem right to me.

By all means be as slim as you want but don’t make yourself ill over it. Now I know I say I don’t want to be a size zero, but that doesn’t mean I’m completely happy with my body shape (I don’t know many women that are). You know how you get over it? You flaunt what you have. You walk like those size zero models do but you swing the hips they haven’t got, you plump up the boobs they wish they had and when you bend down you stick out that booty of yours and give it a wiggle - cos you know what? They just can’t do it!

I walk with much more confidence than I actually feel. I smile at every man that looks at me (most of they smile back). I sling my bag over my shoulder and walk like I own the world – no one will ever know that I don’t like anything about me and as long as they don’t know that - I’ll look great to them.

You do NOT need to be stick thin to look good.

Now I’m going to go and dig into a double chocolate chip muffin, you won’t tell anyone right?

Do Not Stare!

2006-09-25T21:51:00.000+01:00

It’s one of those fundamental rules on the underground.

Under no circumstances whatsoever may you stare at anyone else or make eye contact for longer than the nanosecond it takes to sweep your eyes across the carriage to find a seat.

Now I’m usually pretty good at obeying this rule; when on my own I plunge myself into my book (always have one) or read whatever paper I manage to snatch off the seat before I park my bum in it. Today may have been a bit of an exception.

I had a book. I had a paper. I also had my iPod and plenty of work that I could have tried to do despite the constant bumping and shuddering of the train. But something else took my attention. Someone decided to stand in front of me and hold onto the overhead bar while reading his book. This someone was wearing relatively loose trousers that allowed everything to lean wherever it wanted to. This someone also had a bit of an erection going on. In. My. Eye. Line.

OK I broke the rule.

Washing??

2006-09-24T14:41:00.000+01:00

Today I’m a domestic Kit and I hate it. Yuk. Picked up last night at 11, home at 3 (don’t ask why I didn’t stay) and this morning I realise I really have to do my washing. It really was one of the saddest days of my life when my mum turned round and said she was no longer my own personal laundry service *Insert single tear of lost childhood*. No but seriously now I cannot get used to it. All this making different piles for colours and whites. Not to mention the slightly darker colours and the silks that have to go on a cool wash. And hand washing! What the hell is that all about?! Then there’s how much time it takes up. I just can’t be arsed to do it. I mean I know I can just bung it in and press the button to get it started, it’s the going back and sorting in out that’s the problem.

Don’t even get me started on ironing.

Now I know why I haven’t had anything to wear for the past three weeks – because I haven’t done it and I’ve got no one to blame but myself (grumble grumble). So in my semi-comatose state that was me at 1pm today I managed to get a start on the huge pile that was blocking half of the space in my room. So far I’ve done two loads and I estimate another two to go. Tomorrow all things going right I’ll have some decent jeans to wear and some even better undies to wear underneath. Yay.

Maybe one day I’ll actually do this on a regular basis.

Oh and gub gub… I know it’s going to smack me in the face here but I gotta ask. Johnnie’s?

Over

2006-09-23T20:50:00.000+01:00

It was a relationship that was doomed from the very start. I had thought that it might last for a little longer than it has but I was wrong. It’s all over. After just a couple of months its finished. Kaput. Done and dusted.

I’m not upset, far from it. It was an experience and I’ve certainly done things during the past few months that I wouldn’t have done before and maybe I won’t do them again. Maybe I will. But like I said – doomed from the start and there’s certainly no point in crying over spilt cappuccino.

I decided many years ago that I would never drink. I’ve seen some very unpleasant drunks in my life and I had no desire to be one of them. Neither did I have the desire to be so out of my own mind that I couldn’t remember what I’d been doing the night before. I stuck to this decision until three months ago. Then for some reason I thought I want to drink, not get off my face piss-arsed, just try it. I suppose it’s like when people decide that they are never going to be with anyone but the person they lost their virginity to; there is always a wondering of what it might be like with someone else. So I wanted to know what it would be like to go out with my friends and join in with the drinks.

Well I’ve decided I don’t like it. I’ve come to pretty much the same conclusions I’ve had since I was twelve years old and I saw my uncle passed out on my sofa. I don’t need a drink to have fun and I really don’t like feeling like my head doesn’t belong to my body anymore. Sure there are certain things that become easier to do when you’ve had a drink, but perhaps there is a reason I wouldn’t normally do those things and maybe I should be listening to that voice of reason in my mind – she’s a smart girl in there after all.

So from now on it’s just the Bloke Indoors and me, Jack’s way outta the picture and I couldn’t be happier about it.

Oooh and now I don’t have to worry about tripping over my own heels as I walk down the stairs of clubs either! Life is good.

A new experience

2006-09-22T21:23:00.000+01:00

I really shouldn’t be happy about what happened to me today but I am so there. Deal with it.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t get masses of attention from men as I walk down the street, but I get some and I’m happy with what I get (after all I have my Bloke). The one thing I’ve never had though, is attention from a proper builder and for some strange reason that bugged me.

Today I got it – yay. Wolf whistle and comment, I’m a happy Kit.

Explain

2006-09-21T20:47:00.000+01:00

Why oh why is there a character limit for text messages? It drives me completely scatty it really does. Especially when I’m in the middle of a rather juicy piece of text sex and run out of space to complete my thoughts.

I know sometimes the best way to write this kind of text is to say I want to suck a cock and if you want it to be yours get home now but sometimes that just isn’t an option and I’m going to put as much into that text as possible. When I let my imagination go and I’m writing a full on cock throbbing, pussy dripping piece of erotica I don’t want to have to spread it out over two or three pages. It just isn’t the same. It’s the same when you receive a message too, you don’t want to be getting into it, feel that throbbing sensation in your knickers as you scroll downwards only to have to wait five minutes for another message to come through to finish it (and you) off.

Case in point:
Tuesday. I’m sitting in a chemistry lesson that isn’t finishing anytime the next century when I feel a vibration (no not that kind of vibration – though has anyone tried the SMS activated vibrators?). Quick peek under the table reveals the Bloke Indoors is still in bed at 12:15 and isn’t in the mood for daytime television. He went on to describe everything that he was going to do to me later on, and, more to the point, everything he was going to make me do to him (love it). Unfortunately the very last line was something like with your legs above your head, the purple vibe gently pulsing in your pussy I’ll slowly slide my glistening cock into your arse, god you’ll be so tight like that, slowly at first, pushing down on the pur…

And it stopped.

Just like that. Perhaps it was a good thing because I know that (considering what was in the rest of the message) I was definitely no longer concentrating on polyamides and carboxylic acids and was much more concerned with the other more important substance that was being formed in my la senza underwear – which as it happens are 97% polyamide (nylon – yuk, but what ya gonna do when you haven’t done any washing for 3 weeks?).

Not only did I have to wait another five minutes to get the completed version of my Tuesday afternoon Bloke Indoorsesque sexual narrative, but I had to send three separate texts of my own back in order to reply and send him back something to keep him occupied til I got home. I know I could have sent him and email, and if I’d gone for a walk I could have even found a nice little quiet spot for a phone call but that’s just not the point. Get rid of the frigging character limit!

I'm a real blogger!

2006-09-18T22:03:00.000+01:00

YAY!

2 whole comments just for me! OK so both of them were out of pity but I don't care!

I'm a real blogger!

OK calm now.

Back to reality.

Woohoo!

Sorry little slip there, normal literary service should hopefully resume when my face muscles relax to such that my eyes can see what I'm typing.

Time to go and see Jack.

Then see if the Bloke wants some help with his jeans - he seems to be wearing them far too much recently you see.

Second thoughts: who needs Jack...The Bloke Indoors can take me places Jack hasn't even dreamt about hehehe.

See you soon!

Hmmm

2006-09-17T15:37:00.000+01:00

Well I know there are people out there, that counter works. But I do wonder how long anyone visiting happens to actually spend here and what they think?

Well guess what? You can tell me!! Thats the point of the comment box and I've even added my email on the right hand side to help you along in case you're shy.

You're not a real blogger until you have comments and I wanna be a real girl, just like Pinocchio wanted to be a real boy, or something along those lines. So get to typing! (Please)

These Boots Were (NOT) Made For Walking

2006-09-17T14:49:00.000+01:00

Have some sympathy for poor old Kit this weekend why don’t you folks. I can’t put on a pair of nice shoes and am instead left with a pair of scuffed up pair of converse to limp (and I do mean limp) about in for the next few days.

Why is it not possible for shoe makers to design a pair of nice dogtooth, 4 inch kitten heeled, boots that I can walk about in for 8 hours that wont leave me limping for 4 days afterwards, needing to soak my feet like an 80year old covered in plasters?

It’s not just the feet either, my ankles hurt and I where heels all the time. I don’t get aching ankles – I feel like a pregnant 80year old now, what’s going on??? I even twisted my ankle on a cracked piece of pavement at one point by my train station, completely lost balance and sent my bag flying. So much for a London Girl trying not to Trip Up hey? I don’t know about road resurfacing, how about a few new bits of pavement for poor *cough* souls like me and the rest of the heel wearing community?

Grumble. Grumble.

I could have (and have) cried. They were my favourite boots, now I don’t know if I can face them again. I’m a walker by nature, I use the tube or bus only when really necessary or with friends. I need shoes I can walk all day long in and not bleed into.

Not to worry – I’m a fast heeler and with a bit of extra special boots (the shop) foot care I’ll have prim and proper feet ready to be shown off to the world again.

Sorry for such a truly girly and quite yucky post, but a girl that can’t walk is a girl that has to moan.

Smile!

2006-09-12T19:21:00.000+01:00

Do you ever see those weird people on buses or trains that are smiling into space or out of the window? Well I was one of those people today. The weirdest thing? I don’t even know why I was smiling.

I had no reason whatsoever to be smiling – it was the middle of rush hour, I was squashed and standing on a packed and sweaty number 8 somewhere around Cheapside and I’d just had a row with the Bloke Indoors, but for some reason I was grinning like a Cheshire cat at anyone walking faster than the crawling bus. And I couldn’t have cared less.

Well at the time anyway, now I feel like a right prat.

I’ve been thinking over possible reasons for my overly grinningness. It may have been the sweating businessman next to me who was humming along to his iPod while practically doing a pole dance for everyone on the lower deck. Or perhaps it was the granny sitting three rows back giving a disapproving look to the canoodling couple sitting opposite her? Nah. More likely it was the guy who was sitting in those weird side on seats directly in front of me that are so low that every time he lent down to get something out of his bag his nose brushed the fly of my jeans! Seriously, just a little bit closer and a nice short skirt and a little bit of sneaky on-the-bus oral would have been quite easy.

I swear I tried to move out of his way but I couldn’t there just wasn’t space. I do wonder why he had to keep checking the same notebook over and over again, I didn’t see the point, even with the nose brushing.

The thing is though, I have to wonder is why it so strange to see someone smiling? Londoners are so bloody miserable it’s unbelievable. We see someone smiling in the street and we assume they’re nutters, fair enough if they’re yabbering into their hand which they’re holding to their ear like a mobile at the same time then maybe they aren’t quite right in the old braincase, but what’s wrong with a little bit of teeth baring?

I like smiling as I walk along but I get funny looks from people and that just isn’t nice! No. It’s not nice at all. Londoners are supposed to be accepting; yet people get moaned at for being overly affectionate in public and now for just smiling, it just isn’t right and I’m thoroughly fed up!

I like smiling and I like kissing and cuddling. And you know what? I like doing a lot, lot more than that too! I like to play with myself and (shhh don’t tell anyone but..) I like to have sex with men too! But I can’t do all of these while sitting on the bus or walking down the street.

Three out of five isn’t bad though right?

OK rant finished. Maybe they were right to stare at me today….

Girl with a One Track Mind

2006-09-10T22:21:00.000+01:00

A blog that my friends and I will rate among our favourites (as will many others I’m sure)

Two days ago the Bloke Indoors walks up to me with his hand behind his back and a silly grin on his face. I run through the obvious in my mind:
1. Flowers
2. Chocolates
3. A new vibrator he wants to try out before we go to the cinema

Any of these right? Nope.

From behind his back he pulls a copy of Abby Lee’s newly released book. I can’t help but giggle a little as I take it from him and plant a kiss on his lips.
“Its another one of those blog-book things” He says, still grinning like a Cheshire cat as I have a quick peek at some of the entries. “I thought you’d like it ‘cos it’s like the one that Katy leant you before; that prosy one”

Please do not take offence, he simply cannot remember the title of any book I have ever read unless he reads it straight after I do – he is referring to our very own Belle de Jour’s Intimate Adventures of a London Call Girl the only way he can remember it.

I’m quite chuffed that he bought it for me. It shows he was thinking of me while he was out. It shows he was actually in a bookshop and not in a video game shop and that he knows what I like to read.

However…is he trying to tell me something? He could be saying that I’m just like Ms Lee and that all I ever do is think about sex (good or bad?), he could be saying that I might be able to pick up some tips in the book, he could even be saying that this is what woman are supposed to be like and why aren’t I one of them (nah can’t be). Or he could just have thought it would be a nice little gift because he knows that I like ‘blog-books’.

He is the nicest Bloke and it will be the last one (time to feel warm and fuzzy inside).

I wonder what he would think if he knew how long I’d actually been reading up on Abby’s adventures? I couldn’t tell him, he was so proud at finding the book that I couldn’t ruin his moment, maybe I’ll just send him the link some day.

I finished the book this morning by the way. Loved it. Go and buy it. Now.

Since I said I would

2006-09-03T19:12:00.000+01:00

5-0 to England!!!!!

Me and Jack had some fun thanks to that.

Apologies

2006-09-02T19:18:00.000+01:00

I'm at my local internet cafe right now after just watching England play Andora...I will NOT tell anyone the score until tomorrow aren't I nice!

I haven't been around much the past few days due to technical problems hence the internet cafe that I'm typing my little nails away in right now. Has anyone else noticed how difficult it is to type on a keyboard that isn't yours? The keys just don't fit.

Anyhows I'll be back soonish with something to say hopefully. Right now I'm going to meet my mate Jack - some of you might even realise that my mate Jack isn't even of the human community and I'm already halfway through one meeting with him already tonight.

I would like to say on the plus side but I can't think of one so in the words of Winnie's mate Tigger Ta Ta For Now and a off I bounce down the road in my leopard print kitten heels with the red ribbon.

Tickets please

2006-08-29T22:58:00.000+01:00

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.

Can't think of a title sorry

2006-08-29T16:03:00.000+01:00

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.

Editing

2006-08-28T22:35:00.000+01:00

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.

Rain rain come again

2006-08-28T22:02:00.000+01:00

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.

Fancy a coffee?

2006-08-25T22:10:00.000+01:00

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.

I'm here but will I stay?

2006-08-24T15:36:00.000+01:00

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).

Frigger

2006-08-23T17:59:00.000+01:00

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?

Kitten Heels

moans and apologies

Cleaning house

Back (for good??)

Music in my ears

Good morning *yawn*

Today

One last thing...

Arghh!

Lazy

Pancakes

Look!

Places...

Its Thursday now right?

The Ankle!

Wishes

Meat and..ermm...three veg!

Moan

Fairytale

Snap!

Snap!

No party to remember

Happy New Year!!!!

The things you notice...

Festivities

Remember me?

Ooooh

Friends that are boys (again!)

Strange little bug

Sing to me

Slap happy

You don't say already!!

Bugger

Ticked

Boys that are friends

Revealed (revisited)

Last night part two (revistited)

Why?

Change of plan

Changed

Last night

If only

Left in the dark

Clearance

Judgement

Grumble

Shhh don't talk about it!

Love/Hate

Mind reader

Back up against the wall

Stupid?

sniff sniff

And

Have I told you about me yet?

Weeeeeeeeeee

Bad day

Little Words

Just a little funny

Editing?

Something Weird?

Babies

In the News

Do Not Stare!

Washing??

Over

A new experience

Explain

I'm a real blogger!

Hmmm

These Boots Were (NOT) Made For Walking

Smile!

Girl with a One Track Mind

Since I said I would

Apologies

Tickets please

Can't think of a title sorry

Editing

Rain rain come again

Fancy a coffee?

I'm here but will I stay?

Good morning yawn