Because we’re super cool people, both Prince Charming and I have ‘Superman’ underwear.
So we thought we’d show them off for you!
His are much cooler than mine, they say ‘man of steel’ on them 
I’d say that was pretty accurate, although you’ll have to take my word ‘cos I’m not sure he’d want me to post the proof on here!
Oh, and he tells me my ass looks fantastic in this second picture. Do you agree? 
Happy HNT!
xxxxx
At the beginning of this year, and particularly over the summer months, I was very tied up in the fact that my friends were in these perfect relationships and that I felt like the outsider. That they were disapproving of things I had done and was doing. That it was all so easy for them. I didn’t feel as good as them, as accepted by them, I felt like we’d grown apart because of that. Now I realise it was all my own anxieties and very little of their behaviour that made me feel that way, and whilst I will never apologise for my emotions, I am embarassed that I felt so strongly about being single, whilst now – with Prince Charming in the picture and with so much going on at Uni – it is something that I crave, that I feel comfortable with. I guess it just took time, the reverberations of my disastrous relationship with J and the personal growth that I have experienced since that time (over a year ago now, shockingly enough) to settle down. I am content now, more than ever before. I like who I am, I like who I have become, and I am happy with where I am right now. I won’t deny that it is mostly Prince Charming that has helped me through that. (And why am I not snatching this gorgeous man out of the potential grip of some more fantastic woman than I again?)
But receiving an email from a very old friend today detailing her break up, completely out of the blue both for her and for me, just makes me realise even more strongly how wrong I was. That it was me projecting onto those relationships what I thought was the case. This isn’t the first of them to break up. And I won’t give details here, because it is not my place and I have learnt my lesson about gossiping on this blog, a mistake never to be repeated if I can help it. See, I’ve grown up. It seems the tides have turned. And whilst I am incredibly happy myself at this present moment in time (apart from the minor panics last night of our roof falling off, the ceiling leaking, the power being turned off by the fire brigade and the fire alarm going off *all fucking night*), I so wish that I could swap back. That it was me that was dealing with these things, and they who were in happy relationships. I remember all too clearly the sting of a break up, and I remember just as vividly watching this particular friend go through her last one. And it broke my heart to watch it up close last time, but it breaks my heart even more now that she is hundreds of miles away and someone else is the shoulder to cry on, the sympathetic ear and the bringer of tissues and chocolate.
But it also makes me realise how cruel I was in writing about Jane all those months ago. I still do not regret all of what I said, because some of it was true. But my artistic flair (if it can be so called) got away with me momentarily, as did my emotions – more than they should have done. I projected my own issues onto her relationship, begrudging her happiness and the way that she was conducting her relationship just because it is so different from my own views. I was doing just what I was attributing her with. And that deserves more of an apology than I have given so far. And so that’ll be a fun email for me to write tonight.
Friendships are tricky. I think I have taken my friends at home for granted for so long, despite trying to do the very opposite. They have been my friends for years, some of them for over 15 years, some for over 10, very few for less than 2, and they have been such a fixture in my life that it is easy to overlook them when University gets in the way. I am a natural drama queen, although it is something that I try to curtail, and as such it is easy for me to get caught up in petty dramas and forget the big picture. The big picture here is that my friendship with Jane is a long and, until the last few months, enjoyable one. We have a lot in common, more so than perhaps with other friends – although ideals wise I think we have drifted apart in recent years, with the advent of sexual maturity. Whilst I am still upset that my blogging anonymity was somewhat compromised, and indignant about some of the things that she has said to me, I am equally as guilty – I have said horrible things too, perhaps more than she, and as such I cannot sit on my high horse and blame her for judging me when I have done the same. We may never see eye to eye, I rather thing my fuck-buddy relationship with Prince Charming will not agree with her, but then if everyone was the same, would life not be boring?
And instead of all this melancholy, I promise super cool pictures tomorrow for HNT. Prince Charming says that my ass looks particularly fantastic in one of them, and I’m inclined to agree. Let’s see what you think!
‘I don’t mean to be rude,’ I said, lifting his head from between my thighs, where he seemed to be enjoying himself, ‘but I really need you to fuck me. Like, right now. Please.’
And of course, as the spoilt princess that I get to be when I’m around him, I got exactly what I wanted. Sometimes, foreplay is overrated, in my honest opinion. I needed his cock inside me, right at that moment. I needed to have his cock stretching me, filling me, deep inside my cunt. I’d waited long enough.
There’s such an exquisiteness of that first thrust, that all the subsequent ones just cannot compare to. Not saying that they’re bad, of course, but the first one is definitely best. A desire finally sated, an itch finally scratched, a cunt finally filled. We held each other close, my legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer to me, deeper into me, gasping as he fucked me hard, just like I’d wanted, like I’d needed.
It got harder, faster, more intense. We released our hold on each other, his hands going to my hips to pull me onto his cock harder, mine going to my clit, feeling the pressure building deep inside my cunt, the feeling of his cock inside me making my gasp in pleasure. The sight of him fucking me, the sound of his groans as he thrust to the hilt, the feeling of his fingers digging deep into my hips, my ass, was too much.
‘Fuck, I’m going to come…’
‘Me too…’
It wasn’t planned, it’s very rare, but so incredibly perfect when it happens. Almost a week of not orgasming culminated in the most intense orgasm I’ve possibly ever have. Both of us cumming together. Feeling his cock pulse inside me made me cum even harder, it was amazing. And now I’m just boasting. But it was incredible. We lay there for quite a while afterwards, catching our breath. It was worth my 6 hour journey. It was worth a 16 hour journey, quite frankly. And it was only the first of many…
It was as perfect as before. Except better. More perfect. If that’s possible. Last time was all urgency. The first time we kissed, and possibly the last. There was a finity that scared both of us. That seemed like a good solution, but which in fact was a terrible idea. I could see it in his eyes that it wasn’t what he wanted. I wonder if he could tell it wasn’t what I wanted. Not really. I thought I did. Ending it had seemed like a good idea. It was too hard, too hard to hear about him dating other girls, too hard to not have him next to me at night, too hard to meet someone else when my head was full of him. It was savouring every moment. It was trying everything, if only once, to make the most of the time.
This time was softer, quieter, more relaxed. It was sleeping with my head on his chest in the middle of the day, curled up in a massive duvet, skin on skin, hearing his heart beat. It was going to a candlelit restaurant and talking about politics and literature, and the next day reading ‘The Picture of Dorian Gray’ aloud to demonstrate the points I’d been expounding on the night before. It was walking hand in hand in the rain under a big golf umbrella at a Christmas market. It was hot bubbly baths and lovely massages. It was savouring every moment in a different way, not desperately trying to hold on to every second but making the most of it.
I was feeling a lot more emotionally fragile than last time, surprisingly. I felt incredibly guilty, although I’m not sure what about. Guilty about feeling that I wasn’t ready for a commitment. Guilty that despite loving him *so much* that I wasn’t ready for anything more. Guilty for even thinking about asking for that. That I’m wasting his time being fickle. That it’s somehow wrong for me not to want this relationship in all its technicolour glory – that I want to be free from that, from the burden of being responsible for someone else’s happiness other than my own. All of this, of course, is my own undoing, and nothing to do with him. He’s fantastic, as always. He puts up with my foibles, with my eccentricities, with my whims and my fickleness. I am constant in my love for him, there is very little that could change that, of course. But in my wants and needs there is an ever changing inconsistancy that cannot be fulfilled by a relatonship such as ours would be. Long distance. And infrequent. I am a busy person, by my own design. I want to eke every last morsel out of my years at University. I don’t want to turn around and regret anything. I did that last year. This year is the year for projects and friendships and research and events and parties and all other manner of things which fill my time to bursting point. I have very little time for myself, let alone for anyone else. And right now, that’s actually the way I like it.
But I wasn’t allowed to feel guilty for long. He’s too lovely to me really. I’m still not sure where we are, but I feel so much better about things. I was projecting all of my anxieties onto him, when he felt none of them. Why worry that I’m wasting his time, when he doesn’t feel that I am? Why worry that he will get hurt when he professes that he won’t? It’s a reassurance, although whether it will last, when my essential nature is one of worry and guilt. It’s not my fault. Blame my mother. And her mother before that. Guilt is my family legacy. Most people get jewellery. So right now we’re in limbo, more than fuck buddies but less than an open relationship. Which essentially means we can do whatever the hell we want (and whoever, for that matter) without any obligations to anyone else, but which also means that I have him to go to for love and affection and support.
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, I may be the luckiest girl in the world. Prince Charming has taught me more about love and sex and what a grown up relationship should be like in just two weekends and endless phone calls, than anyone else ever has – in fact than everyone else has put together. The sum knowledge of my love and lust life so far pales in comparison to what I feel I know now. I still know nothing of course, not really. But whilst before I had read so many times that honesty is the best policy, now I have seen that work in real life. No secrets, no lies, no worries. I feel totally accepted, and I hope that I give total acceptance back. I never feel scared to tell him anything, which is such a relief. There’s no games, no smoke and mirrors. Just love and sex. Distilled into the perfect mixture.
So why don’t I want more? Well of course, I’m just being selfish. But I’m 19. Aren’t I supposed to be a little selfish? I never had a teenage rebellion. My parents are far too relaxed and liberal, I wouldn’t have been grounded for sex, drugs or rock n’ roll. Especially for the latter. It would have been no fun at all, with nothing to rebel against. But maybe this is my rebellious phase? Pathetic though it may be. Maybe it’s my own little stand against social convention. A non-relationship relationship. Admittance that I’m not done sleeping around yet. I want to be a little bit slutty first. Maybe it will get old quickly, and I’ll regret it. But maybe not. And whilst I don’t want to lose Prince Charming, quite the opposite, he’s incredibly blog fodder and of course one of my best friends and fucking fantastic in the sack, let alone his other qualities which I’m sure I’ve mentioned before, I’m not ready to lose this part of me either. I’m too young, too inexperienced. And I wouldn’t want to mess him around. If it’s going to be anything, it’s going to be the real deal. And I wouldn’t settle for anything less. So it would be unfair to go into something not entirely sure that it’s exactly what I want. Because to hurt him would be so awful, it would put all of this self-indulgent musing to shame. The blog posts would be phenomenal in their pessimism and depression. And we don’t want that now, do we?
Now of course, you’re gagging to hear all the horny details, or at least I’m imagining you are. The search terms that lead here are certainly demonstrative of the smutty nature of the minds of my readers. But you’ll have to wait for tomorrow for that, I’m afraid…
The beat was pounding in my head, I could feel it pulsing through me. It was intoxicating. I was definitely intoxicated. The lights were flashing, there was artificial smoke everywhere, clouding my vision. It was noisy and crowded. But I could see you clearly. Laughing and joking, some of your friends were flirting with mine. You caught my eye, you gave that little wink that I knew so well. I’d seen it before. I’d fallen for it before. It was a bad idea. But those eyes are hypnotic. And you know it. You pulled me into the heaving crowd on the dance floor, the heavy beat still pounding. Hips grinding, hands groping, bodies pressed close together, breathing deepening, tensions rising…
I blinked a few times, slowly letting the light into my burning eyes. My head was pounding with the beat of music that was no longer playing, I felt groggy and dis-orientated. As I slowly came to, I saw you stretched out next to me, your arms thrown above your head, the sheets barely covering you, revealing your gorgeous chest to me. I wondered what you were dreaming about. It wasn’t me, that’s for sure. I should have said no.
I could feel your erection pressing against me through the fabric of your denim. Horny for someone. Was it for me? Or that girl you were looking at over my shoulder. No matter, I was going to make it about me. I ground against you harder, hooking my fingers into your belt loops, pulling you against me, tipping my face up to yours. You smirked, feeling your power over me, before sinking your lips against mine. Our tongues playing, our bodies moving in sync to the over-powering beat. I felt the jolt of desire running through me even stronger than before. That’s why I said yes.
I finally jolted myself awake, rubbing my eyes to shift some of the mascara glueing them together. My breathing was shallow, I didn’t want to wake you. Moving slowly, deliberately not to disturb you, I shifted myself off the bed. Your hand went to the space I’d just left, feeling for someone, something. Or so it seemed. I’m not sure your unconscious mind could remember me and the night we spent together. Your spent cock probably could. My sore pussy definitely did. But my hangover-addled brain didn’t want to remember. I should have said no.
Our mouths played together, our bodies writhing in sync on the dance floor. Despite everything that has happened before, we fitted together perfectly. There was something there. Something raw, and animalistic. Nothing to do with sense or reason. One of your hands was enmeshed in my hair, controlling me, the other roaming over my back, grabbing at my ass, barely covered by my obscenely short skirt. My hands grasped at your forearms, but my hold compared to yours was weak, helpless. We both knew who was in charge here. Your hand slipped underneath the flimsy fabric of my skirt, pressing up against my underwear, feeling how wet I was, making me moan.
‘Want to get out of here?’ you growled in my ear, tilting my head back, exposing my neck, grazing the delicate with your teeth, making me shiver. That’s why I said yes.
I scrambled around for my clothes, cringing at the thought of the walk of shame. I can see the debris from the night before, clothes strewn everywhere, abandoned condoms, the lamp that we knocked over, sheets and pillows all in disarray. I catch a glimpse of my naked body in your mirror, I’m covered in scratch marks, bruises, bite marks, you know how to mark your territory. It wouldn’t be so bad if my dress wasn’t so small.
Your flat is closer than mine, the walk home the next day doesn’t even cross my mind, all I care about is having you. Right now. We stop every few steps, our desire overwhelming us, your lips bruising mine, your hands mauling my tits, pinching my hardening nipples, my hands finding the bulge in your jeans and rubbing my palm against you, making you gasp. We get more than a few wolf whistles. I don’t care. Fuck me. Right now.
You make me walk in front of you up the stairs to your room, I know you’re watching my ass and it gives me an extra wiggle. I shouldn’t crave your approval like I do, but it’s intoxicating. As soon as we’re behind close doors you have me backed up against the wall, surrounding me, trapping me, precariously balanced on my heels as I stand on tip toe so I can kiss you properly, so you have better access under my dress, so I can slip my hands down into your jeans…
I dress quickly, holding my breath every time you stir, desperate for you not to wake, I don’t want to talk to you, I don’t want to have that awkward conversation. I don’t want you to call me babe, to tell me that we’ll go out for dinner sometime, that there’s this great place you want to take me to. That you’re so glad we hooked up last night. That I’m amazing. I am. But you don’t really believe it. I should have said no.
We stripped quickly, you threw me down on the bed and presented me with your hard cock. I didn’t hesitate, I opened my mouth and you shoved your cock deep into my mouth, making me choke and splutter around you. It turned you on, to make me gag. I felt your cock twitch. It turned me on too. You had one hand on the back of my head, controlling me as I desperately tried to suck your cock, as the fingers of your other hand plunged deep into my dripping wet pussy, my moans muffled by your cock down my throat. My hips bucked off the bed as your fingers worked their magic. Could you feel the muscles of my cunt clenching down on your fingers as I came? You know how worked up you’d got me over the evening. You have that effect on me. That’s why I said yes.
It didn’t take me long to be dressed and out of the door. I take one last look at you, still spread eagle on the bed, feeling one last jolt run through me. It’s uncontrollable, this thing that draws me to you, over and over again. It feels so good, but it hurts so bad. I close the door loudly as I leave, wondering if it wakes you up, and prepare myself for the walk of shame. I should have said no.
You moved your cock away from my mouth, spreading my legs with your thighs. I closed my eyes, and counted down the torturous seconds until I felt your cock at the entrance to my cunt.
‘Tell me what you want…’
‘I want you to fuck me. Please.’
‘Good girl…’
Suddenly your cock was deep inside me, stretching my tight cunt, and I couldn’t help but cry out. It felt so fucking good. We moved together, my legs wrapping around your waist, pulling you in deeper. Hips bucking, fingers clawing at your arms, at your back, gasps choked out of me by the force of your thrusts, feeling the tension building deep within me. You didn’t care, of course, but I came with you, your cock pulsing deep within me as my cunt clenched around you, making us both cry out. I wanted more, of course. And you were happy to oblige.
I said yes when I should have said no. But can you blame me?
*******
This post was part of a challenge with the fabulous Coquitten, the gorgeous Z from Phaedra Fallen and the sexy and shameless Britni, so go check out what they wrote – it’s bound to have you squirming in your seats! The challenge was to write a piece inspired by this song by Dragonette, chosen by the delectable Jake from Facts and Friction.
It’s the age old question – can women and men ever really be friends?
I’m not sure the world at large believes that men and women can be just friends. Unless one of them is of a homosexual persuasion that is. There’s constantly articles in the paper speculating about the supposed sexual/romantic relationship that one celebrity is having with another. Now, of course, some of them are having sexual/romantic relationships - but not all.
I went to a girls’ school from the ages of 11-18, I didn’t have any male friends until I was 16. They’re still in the minority in my friendship group – I can count the number of close male friends I have on one hand. Most of them I live with. I get on better with girls, probably because I am so girly. I don’t mind either way – a person is a friend regardless of gender. I can look at my male friends now and safely say that nothing is going to happen between us. So I would say, yeah, that men and women can be friends.
When I was younger I wasn’t convinced of the fact. The first couple of male friends that I made when I started my job both fell for me. One was gay – it was a weird conversation when he asked me out. The other never explicitly said anything but I *knew*. When I texted him to say that I wanted to make sure that we were both on the same page, that nothing would happen, he stopped texting me for a long time. I never see him anymore. J was another of my male ‘friends’ at the time, and I was so in love with him – that wasn’t just a friendship. L’s another one with whom the boundaries were a little hazy for a while, although I think a lot of that was in my imagination, and because of things other people said to me rather than what he said. But like I say, now I do have some very close male friends – the guys I live with are like brothers to me. Our relationship is totally asexual – as far as I’m concerned.
But what pisses me off is that some people project onto my friendships with guys a fledgling romance or sexual tension that just doesn’t exist. It’s fine to joke about these things, we do all the time, but no one takes it seriously. And it’s no more than what I joke about with my female friends (and my being mostly straight, hopefully that demonstrates a lot). But Helen has said to me that she thinks Steve and I will get together, and Sophie has said that she thinks Martin is secretly in love with me.
Now, I told this to Steve and Martin, and they just laughed. Sure, I love them, and Martin in particular is one of my closest friends. But there’s nothing else to it. I remember that when Helen told me about the Steve thing that it made me really paranoid - she cited examples of him being nice to me, and I started to think that maybe there was some truth to the matter. But that was a silly thing to think, he’s that nice to everyone. And being nice to someone doesn’t mean that you necessarily want to get into their knickers. I know I’m not the only one who thinks this, my friend Bella, naturally flirty and friendly (with everyone), has had a few guys accusing her of leading them on, when in fact she was just being herself. She can’t help it if she’s gorgeous, though, I suppose!
I remember that there was a bisexual girl at school, someone I was vaguely friends with, and a lot of girls would make jokes about her, completely unfairly. They seemed to assume that because she was into girls, that it was indecent for her to be in the changing rooms after PE or some other such nonsense. It used to really piss me off. Just because someone is into girls, doesn’t mean she’s into *every* girl. And on the same line, just because my guy friends sleep with girls, doesn’t mean that they want to sleep with *me*. And vice versa.
And quite frankly, just because *you* assess the flirtabilty/dateability/seduceability of every man that you meet, doesn’t mean we all do, mmmkay?
HNT Courtesy of Coy Pink
Welcome to the first edition of e[lust]! Below is your source for inspirations of lust and sexual intelligence from a wide range of sex bloggers. Want to be included in the next edition? Submission period opens for e[lust] # 2 on November 20th – subscribe to the RSS feed and Twitter for all updates! Check out the submission guidelines and rules of general conduct here.
This week’s top three picks as chosen by fellow e[lust] participants:
At Your Service - His hand pushes on my thigh and I turn away from him, allowing him to inspect my ass. His hands spread my ass cheeks and again I flood with wetness.
Cinderella – “‘I want to fuck you…’ he growled, nipping at her neck and kissing down over her breasts, biting at her nipples through the fabric, making her cry out.
Anal Sex Pt 2: The Ins and Outs of Butt Sex - Butt sex is what you make of it. Enjoy yourselves, be careful, and try everything that looks interesting.
Editor’s Pick:
The Slut Chronicles #5 – The Flight Delay – “When her eye caught his blatantly checking her out, he only grinned wider, with no remorse at all and it was she who blushed furiously.”
A note from the editor: And so it begins…
See also: Pleasurist’s #54 for your sex toy review needs.
All blogs that have a submission in this edition must re-post this digest from tip-to-toe on their blogs within 7 days. Re-posting the photo is optional and the use of the “read more…” tag is allowable after this point. Thank you, and enjoy!
Erotic Writing
Just A Little Taste
Older and Better Than Ever
Good Morning
Your Eyes
MFM: The Student. The Teacher.
Get Me Off
The Club & Introductory Note
Don’t Come
The City
Howl at the Moon
Rimjob
Consumed
The Devil Inside
One of the Greats
Room Service
Kink & Fetish
A Busy Night
Bad Taste?
Protocols
The Illusion of Beginning: Pt 1
“You hit me…”
Reconnecting
Too Many Buttons
Nadia’s Wishing Box
The Mason Jar
So Sexy Boots
Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships
Swing Shift Vol. 18 – Safe Sex and Getting Tested
Libido Resurrection Programme™
Check Up
Oh, Baby, Baby
UnderRated: Fucking the Mind
Sex News, Interviews, Politics & Humor
Vixen Invites
I’m Quoted in Time Out NY!
Top Five Tuesday – Euro Studs
She Makes Me Feel Like a Whore
via visualizeus
Pleasurists is a round-up of the adult product and sex toy reviews that came out in the last seven days.
Did you miss Pleasurists #53? Read it all here. Do you have a review for Pleasurists #55? Submit it here before Sunday November 22nd at 11:59pm PST. Please re-post this list on your own blog if listed.
Want to win some free swag? All you’ve got to do is enter.
Editor
Editor’s Pick
People may have no idea just how much pleasure and perfect g-spot stimulation that unassuming hunk of silicone provides. (Those fools!)
Also, you may want to use Ella as a pretend phone, or let your other toys argue with your cats about it. Just a little suggestion of my own.
Note: While there were many wonderful reviews this week and the EP was a difficult choice I was won over by the wonderfully amusing and fantastic pictures that accompany this review. Talk bubbles, kitties, and attempts to use a sex toy as a phone (among other amusing antics) set the review apart while the text gives you more of the usual toy information. I love it.
On to the reviews…
Vibrators
Dildos
Anal Toys
Toys for Cocks
Lube, Massage Oil, Bath Stuff, & etc.
BDSM/Fetish
Adult Books/Games
Adult Movies/Porn
Lingerie
Storage
Miscellaneous
Sex is a learning curve.
First you have to work out what goes where, how to move to make it feel good, how fast, how slow, how to put on a condom, what happens if you kiss there, rub here, stroke this, lick that. It’s pretty simple, but it can be nerve-racking to a newcomer. I remember being terrified the first time I gave a guy a blowjob, desperate to try it but worried that I would do it wrong. Turns out, I’m a natural
But there’s so much more than that. Knowing the mechanics will only get you so far. There’s learning about what you like, what they like, what you like together. And that’s almost more important. I know what I like, I know what I’m into. But it’s only over the time that I’ve had this blog that I’ve really realised that.
When I first started this blog I was heartbroken and not very confident and unsure. Now I’m none of those things. I’ve met friends and lovers and so many inspirational people through my time online. It has opened my mind to so many new things, things that in my sheltered suburban world were just rumours, or jokes on the school bus.
My relationship with Prince Charming has been a massive learning curve for me. He’s an adult. A man not a boy. And it makes such a difference. Even just as a friendship it could not be more perfect. I feel so open and honest and safe and cherished by him. I can be myself without any fear. And that’s a novel thing for me. He likes me just the way I am. And I love him just the way he is. If we have issues of whatever sort, it’s so easy for us to talk about them and make it all better. He’s not passive agressive about things, if there’s a problem he’ll say. And it’s amazing.
But it translates so very nicely into the bedroom. The weekend we had was a learning curve for me. In how amazing sex can be. I’ve always enjoyed sex. But never in such an extreme way. I’ve never been that sore before – we fucked until it wasn’t possible to fuck anymore. The soul (and the libido) was willing, but the flesh was most definitely not. And we just clicked. We like the things. We both like him throwing me around, telling me what to do, tying me up with a silk tie and fucking me from behind, spanking my ass, calling me a slut. We both *definitely* like him going down on me until I can’t take it anymore. And we both *love* me sucking his cock, his hand on the back of my head, controlling me, pushing me down further. Yummy. I feel totally safe with him, I feel like we can explore and play and try new things together and it’ll all be brilliant.
Even though I’ve always known that openness and honesty are the most important things in a relationship, sexual or otherwise, but I’ve never experienced it for myself. I never realised it was so easy. And so fantastic.
I’m going to visit him next weekend. I wonder what else I might learn…
This is part of the group post organised by The Errant Wife Kimberley, and all these sexy people have joined in, prompted by the word ‘Curve’ – go and check them out!
Lilly
Gray
Aurore
Petal
Cellobiscuit
Britni
Mr B
Dave
Autumn
Panser Bjørne
Bri
Ms. Scarlett
Lolita Vida
FG Sakes
Hubman
Library Vixen
Barefoot Dreamer
Topaz
Duchess
And of course…
Kimberly
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