The Library Hotel

Maybe it’s geeky, but in my opinion, this is the sexiest place in the world. The Library Hotel in New York. Isn’t it beautiful?

And each room is furnished with lots of lovely books to peruse. And as someone who is a big fan of erotic literature, I can think of nothing sexier than spending a night or two in this room…

Coming in from the freezing cold, laden down with shopping bags from Bloomingdales and Macy’s and tacky tourist shops, can you just imagine this room waiting for you? A shower and a change into a big fluffy dressing gown, curled up on the bed, finally toasty warm and relaxed. There’s so much to see and do in New York (would you have it any other way?) and after taking all of those touristy photos, wouldn’t it be nice to see a different kind of sight?

Kissing softly, a gentle bite on the lower lip, a little gasp caught in the throat. Hands easing off every last vestige of clothing as you entangle yourself with me. Naked in this beautiful room. Just the two of us. Subdued lighting. You reach for one of the many books on the shelf, a wealth of erotic experience contained within their pages, author’s fantasies preserved in black and white and re-enacted on this bed, in this room.

Your voice is enthralling, deep and almost growling as you read to me. I close my eyes, my breathing deepening as I let the words wash over me, equally turned on by the sound of your voice, knowing you’re turned on too as I am by the desire trapped within the covers of those books. It’s exquisite torture, to hear about the consummation of another’s lust but be unable to satisfy my own. I know it’s just a matter of time. I slowly open my eyes, your eyes still focused on the book in front of you, but your arousal obvious.

I sidle closer to you, my heart beating faster as I kiss up your arm and over your shoulder. You put the book aside, turning your body towards me. I kiss your neck, feeling the hairs on your arm raise up with goosebumps. I love that little power over you, because you know you have every other power over me. You gently push me down onto the bed, the sheets already crumpled. Kissing me softly at first, and then more insistently, pressing your body down into mine.

I feel your cock pressing insistently at my stomach, and I grind myself up into you, needing something more. You pin my hands above my head, I’m yours for the taking. I open my legs and with one gentle movement your cock thrusts deep inside my wet cunt, stretching me, making me gasp. It feels too good. And just like the couple in the pages of that book, our bodies move in unison, or at least, they try to. Because sex is never like it is in the movies, or on a blog. A little mis-timing and somebody’s nose gets smushed. Or somebody leans on somebody’s hair. Or something gets pinched or squeezed a little too tightly. But it’s funner that way. To giggle and yelp and smile together.

So we try our best to make it perfect, like it should be in a novel. The setting’s just right, the lighting is fitting. There’s a bowl of strawberries on the side which would be perfect for some conveniently over-acted seduction. And some whipped cream, which could come in handy although it would be messier and stickier than imagined. A pocket guide to the Kama Sutra too, there couldn’t be a better place to have sex. And yet we end up the same way we always do. You on top, because I like to feel the weight of you on top of me. To have you moaning in my ear. To have my legs wrapped around the base of your back. To have you thrusting deep inside me. My hand on my clit, intensifying all the sensations. And we’re good at it now. Cumming together. I only have to ask, to beg you to cum deep inside me and I get what I want, the pulsing of your cock inside me making me cum as well. And that’s something they teach you in the movies and in the books.

And despite that wealth of experience in those books, despite the desire trapped within those pages, it would be far sexier just you and me, writing our own erotic tale. The paraphernalia and the props aren’t what would make it hot.

But I still want to do it in this gorgeous place.

Censored

Last term one of the plays put on at my Uni was ‘Quills’. Now, I don’t know if you have ever seen it but I would recommend it (apparently there’s a film?) especially to the sex bloggers amongst you. It was quite graphic and kind of gruesome, but I have to say, massive kudos to the guy who played the protagonist and spent about three-quarters of the play absolutely starkers. You won’t know him but his performance was absolutely brilliant.

The reason why I think you guys would like it is because it discusses key points about the artist and responsibility, and the role of censorship. In the play the protagonist, the Marquis de Sade, is imprisoned because of the depraved texts that he has been writing. A priest tries his best to stop the Marquis from writing any more, but his passion to write is too great, when they take away everything from his cell he writes in his own blood and other unsavoury effluences on the walls, and eventually he ends up whispering one of his stories through the door of his cell to be written down by a sympathetic laundrygirl. It sends all of the inmates into a frenzy and someone gets murdered. Everyone cannot handle their reaction to the shocking eroticism of the Marquise’s tales.

And whilst obviously no one is going into a frenzy reading this blog, it does raise some questions about whether a writer (or artist in general) as a responsibility to present something worthy and educational or moral to their readers. I doubt whether the content of my blog could be described as any of those things. A lot of bloggers have a 18+ warning on their blog to cover their backs, but how many under 18s do you think would take notice of those? Not a lot I don’t think. I didn’t when I was under 18. But it never did me any harm. And surely reading about sexuality in the way that it is presented in this little corner of the blogosphere is actually helpful to young people? It’s a healthy and open discussion and I think that’s a positive thing. But, if that’s the case, should all bloggers strive to make their content healthy and open and helpful? Do we have a responsibility to our readers?

There are always cries around here that we should write whatever we want, that this is a free space to say whatever we want. But what about if it’s hurtful or subversive or untrue? Should there be Internet censorship? Should there be censorship full stop? I don’t really believe in censorship, but there are some things that should not be said – small children should not be allowed to access some of the vitriol and perversity on the Internet, in my opinion. There is such a thing as too much too young. But when you put something on the Internet there is always that possibility, this blog is open to anyone who clicks on the appropriate link, and the amount of people that now find my blog through the search term ’superman and supergirl’ after this HNT quite surprises me – they could be quite surprised at what they find. And does that mean I should be more careful about what I write? Do I have a responsibility as a writer to decide what my audience views, what is good for them or what is bad, or do they have the responsibility to view what is or is not appropriate for them. Should I have to warn them, or should they be able to make the decision themselves? These are all hypothetical questions, of course, because I will not change what I write on this blog, but it is something to think about.

Objectified

I was mulling over this post last night whilst a little (read: quite a lot, in hindsight!) tipsy and after a night out dressed in a PVC tutu (HNT and a little story to follow next week…), and at the time it seemed the perfect thing to say. Now, in the cold light of day it seems a little cringey and I’m not sure if I want to write it. And for that very reason I’m going to write it anyway.

Because despite the fact that I was all undressed up (fancy dress you must understand…) no one looked at me twice. And I *know* that I shouldn’t let that bother me, it’s stupid really. I had a great time with my friends, dancing and drinking and laughing. But it’s just when you turn around and there are no less than three couples making out within touching distance of you (I’m no prude and I don’t mind a decent PDA every now and again but the dancefloor is *not* your bedroom, please put it away…) it can be a little depressing.

You know I hate when people grab me in clubs, of course I do. But in a world where objectification equals attractiveness, it’s a little demoralising when *no body* wants to objectify you. Does that sounds ridiculous? I know what I’m trying to say. In an ideal world everyone would be respectful of each other and all that jazz, but as it stands that’s not the case. It goes against everything that I believe in to say I want to be objectified, but I think the real thing is that I’m clearly insecure enough to believe that’ll make me feel attractive.

The thing is, I know I’m pretty hot. I hate to sound arrogant (arrogant? on a blog where you assume people are reading what you’re writing?!) but I think I’m quite pretty. And I have great tits (as a girl last night, a stranger beforehand, decided to tell me quite effusively!). And in my everyday life I don’t suffer too much from massive feelings of unattractiveness and insecurity. I don’t know whether it’s alcohol or what but there’s something about going out and being in a place where sex is encouraged and assumed and *not* getting hit on that makes me feel awful.

I can count on one hand the amount of times that I’ve been hit on in my life. And I’m 20. That’s pretty pathetic, right? And drunken kisses exchanged with barely a word said don’t really count, which means I have to think pretty hard to find a memory of being chatted up. Properly. I don’t think I have one. Which is sort of depressing. Now, I know it’s outdated to think that the man has to do all the work, and I hate myself even more for assuming it. But there are guys that go out to chat up girls, I have friends that are chatted up all the time. So why not me? Is it the fact that I am so insecure about the fact that obvious? That I’m just not as hot as I think I am, or at least not in the darkness all dolled up to the nines? That I look scary or stand-offish? That I do glare at the guys who do try to feel me up without talking to me first (or even making eye contact) put people off? I don’t know. But I do know that I could never chat someone up myself (cf. confidence issues and insecurities).  

See the thing is, the reason that Prince Charming isn’t my proper boyfriend is because I *want* to do all of those normal teenage things of hooking up. Although I’m not a teenager anymore, I should say student things. I’m not ready for something commited and long-term. Or at least, I don’t feel ready. But it kind of becomes laughable when I’m too scared to chat someone up, and no one wants to chat me up. Because talking to Prince Charming and having him tell me how gorgeous I am does make me feel good. So I’m sort of shooting myself in the foot. I don’t want to get to 30 and wonder ‘what if?’ but I don’t really know where to go from here.

HNT: Birthday Gifts

Last Thursday was my 20th birthday, and I had a wonderful day I got too many lovely presents to list here, but I thought you might like to see what Prince Charming got for me!

My bear’s featured in a HNT before and now he has a friend! A randy panda who started out life in a grabber machine in the Watford Gap service station and liberated by a handsome prince on a very long road trip. And a very cute birthday present (unintentional though she may have been!) she is too!

For an actual birthday present he bought me this absolutely gorgeous necklace which I love, it’s beautiful and simple and goes with everything and reminds me of him every time I wear it

Oh, and this rather amusing birthday card!

Happy HNT!

xxxxx

I didn’t really make any New Year’s Resolutions. It seems like a year is such a long time to acheive something that you should set yourself a massive goal. So maybe it’s better to do it month by month, to build on it over time. January was a crazy month for me. I didn’t stop once I think. I had a blast, but right now I need some me time. Some time to catch up on work and read the massive pile of books I was given for my birthday (most of which I will probably talk about here, I already have stuff to say about ‘Fat is a Feminist Issue’). It’s as good a time as any to think about what I’ve learnt this month and what I want to have done by the end of February.

Because this month I’ve learnt that I really don’t deal with stress well. That delegation is actually the way forward and I should have learnt that skill a long time ago. That if you ask ye shall receive. That sometimes you just need a hug and a cry. That Ugly Betty can’t solve everything. That I can only do my best, and that my best is pretty damn good. That people will always surprise you.

But I’ve spent so much time sorting out other people, focusing on things outside of myself that February is going to about me. Not in a self-indulgent way. But I want to get my ever-growing list of schoolwork done. I want to go back to having a tidy room instead of dumping everything on the floor in exhaustion, because it feels so much nicer when I can walk across the floor and crawl into bed at night without having to shift a load of clothes, towels, books and bags. I want to blog a little bit more, because I find it relaxing and since it’s one of my only hobbies I should probably stick with it. I want to eat a little bit healthier, take-away pizza and caramel hot chocolates are all well and good but a few apples and some pasta won’t go amiss.

But don’t think it’s all doom and gloom over here. There’s lots planned for this month too. I wouldn’t be me if my diary wasn’t packed out. This Friday is going to be mega-exciting with an Ann Summers party and a fetish fancy dress night – yes, you will get to see my outfit on Thursday. And even more mega-exciting (although in a different way) is some magazine work experience that I’ve got lined up. And then there’s celebration dinners, countless meetings, balls, birthdays and of course Valentine’s Day. So stay posted…

That’s Hot

Everyone has a different idea of what’s hot. But…

His fingers in my mouth, gagging me, choking me, that’s hot…

His hand around my throat controlling me, that’s hot…

His mouth on my neck, biting me, that’s hot…

His fingers pinching my nipples, making me gasp, that’s hot…

His hand spanking my ass, bruising me, that’s hot…

His cock in my cunt, filling me, stretching me, that’s hot…

His voice, telling me what a little slut I am, making me beg, that’s hot…

His cum covering my ass, marking me…now that’s hot.

HNT: Preparation

 

This is a very busy week, and as such this blog gets pushed to the wayside.

By the time you read this it’ll be my birthday, but I don’t really have time to celebrate it!

I was just getting ready to go out when I remembered that it’s HNT tomorrow (today!)

So I thought you might like to see me getting ready.

Happy HNT!

(And Happy Birthday to Meeeee!)

xxxxx

I went to visit The Coquitten this weekend and it was so much fun! She’s as much fun in real life as her drunk posts suggest. It was so nice to talk to someone about blogging that actually *knows* about it, we totally gossiped about you guys Although trying to persuade everyone that we were ‘penpals’ had us in stitches! And in true Coquitten-style she made us drink ‘cock-sucking cowboys’ and showed me how to ‘pussy-pop’. And we compared boobs, which had the guys staring quite a bit! So here they are for you  delectation!

 

Exclusive

Prince Charming and I are not in an exclusive relationship. I think I’ve said it before but it bears reiterating. But I’m struggling with the whole thing. Before I start this is not a condemnation of those in open, polyamorous or any other non-exclusive relationships – that’s what I want but can’t seem to achieve.

This whole thing goes against the grain for me (again, not a condemnation). It’s not that I can’t separate love and sex, it’s just that I don’t think that I can have sex with someone else whilst I’m in love with Prince Charming. Especially because I know he’s not entirely happy with it. Not in a horrid way, just in a ‘this is the way it’s got to be and I’d rather this than nothing’ way. Maybe I’m projecting, maybe he’s loving it. But I’m not certain I’d get encouragement and that in itself makes me a little anxious. The thing is, it’s complicated. Aren’t all relationships? He lives really far away. He has a full-time job and I’m busier than your average student. And I want this to be the real deal – I don’t want to get into a committed relationship wondering if it’ll have to end because I don’t feel ready for a proper, grown up relationship. I’m supposed to be young and impetuous, but I’ve always had trouble with that. I overthink everything, as you may have noticed.

I guess it’s only natural, I’m hardly an anomaly – more of a cliché – commitment-phobia is hardly a new phenomenon. I feel rather selfish though, I often think that people only want to go out and experiment with lots of people until they find the right person to experiment with. That trying new things eventually leads you into a new relationship. That now I’ve found Prince Charming, only time will tell if he’s The Perfect Person, but he’s certainly A Perfect Person, surely I should be happy. With him I’ve tried more things than with anyone else. So what exactly is it that I’m looking for? Confirmation that there’s no one better out there? Because I’m pretty sure that it would be stupid to throw away what I have for something that might never be. And what do I mean by better? I’m not sure anyone could love me better, get me better, know me better and I can’t think of anything I want to make better about him (except maybe the fact that he hates all of my favourite foods, and I his )

But whilst I don’t think I want to be in a long-term commited relationship right now, especially since I have no idea what I’ll be doing in a year and a half’s time and what I’ll even want in 6 months time, surely that’s what I’m in right now? I love Prince Charming. I love being with him. I miss him when he’s not around and I kind of wish he was around all the time. I haven’t got with anyone else since I first met him in the flesh, and as far as I know he hasn’t either. We’re spending Valentine’s Day together (when I eventually get there!) and I’m going to celebrate my birthday with him, when I’ve got no plans to celebrate even with the people I live with (sadly – responsibilities come before birthdays apparently!) or with my family.

So, do I just suck it up and go for it? Or do I carry on as normal, and quash my guilt if the occassion ever arises to be naughty with someone else? I have guilt issues, a complex you might say, and I’m not sure I could cope with it if telling Prince Charming what I’d been up to (since honesty is the best policy, after all) was going to hurt him, or worse make him leave me, because he doesn’t want to share (not that I’m an object of course). And maybe it’d be the same the other way round? Is it worth jeopardising the best relationship I’ve ever had for something that will more than likely not be worth it?

HNT: Two Sides

There are two sides to every story.

And there are two sides to me.

There’s the Amy that most people see, in pastel shades and cutesy necklaces. Who is responsible and sweet and friendly and smart.

And like a shadow following behind, there’s blog Amy.

Who wears the tightest jeans possible and invites you to slap her ass. Who writes raunchy blog posts and posts half-naked pictures of herself on the Internet.

They’re both me.

Happy HNT

xxxx