Looking for Mr. Horny Devil

When I was a kid I loved Halloween. I took it seriously. You can blame J.K Rowling for that, Harry Potter has a lot to answer for, as do my parents. Given how dysfunctional my childhood was I don’t think, in retrospect, it was any wonder that I enjoyed pretending to be someone, anyone else. So in my bid for a bit of escapism, I would spend all the pocket money I got putting together a Halloween costume, a costume that more often than not consisted of black bin bags cellotaped together with stuck on pieces of kitchen foil in the shapes of half moons and stars. Yep, I loved dressing up when I was small and as this blog is testimony to, now that little girl is all grown up she still loves playing pretend, its just the adults call it role play these days and unlike when I was a child the fun to be had is entirely more saucy. The get off isn’t coming up with a clever costume like creating a transformer get up from cardboard boxes and paint nicked from the school art rooms, the get off these days is to be had behind my closed bedroom door and is, as you know, far far naughtier.

In honour of my favourite holiday I persuaded my research partner to take part in a Halloween themed scenario. I am not sure persuade is the right word however. In my bid to be organised I did sent him one text and the word ‘one’ is the key word to remember, I sent him one text to check his availability over the weekend which he didn’t reply to. When he did get in touch he did mention that he did get the text only he referred to it as a text that ‘bordered on desperation’ His words, desperate? One text is desperate? Can you tell I didn’t, at first, find his comment in any way funny but you can bet he thought it was fucking hilarious. Needless to say this particular role play session didn’t get off to a good start, as my research partner said he had heard of angry sex he had just never had it before. But the back biting and sniping that we exchanged does illustrate a point I read about not so long back. People think love and hate are set in opposition to each other but when you think about it the opposite to love is never hate, its indifference. You still have to care in order to pour in the energy necessary to hate someone, when you are indifferent you don’t, as the word suggests, give a shit. My point is this, if someone can wind you up as much as my research partner and I wind each other up it is because, as friends, we care about each other. Everyone say ah. Keep saying ah as I get down and dirty and tell you all the explicit raunchy details of what, excuse the pun, went down in this Halloween themed instalment of our phone sex chat.

So okay, okay this session didn’t start off with the usual sexual sizzle I describe to you, but in the end it did go with a bang from below the waist. The scenario went as follows. My research partner and I were at a fancy dress party and that, I as a naughty, naughty witch would seduce and entice the shy little devil my research partner had come as, making him, with all my spooky charms, wicked curves and love potions a very Mr horny devil indeed. As Mr horny devil my research partner very much enjoyed playing hard to get, refusing my initial advances to sit at my spooky table and get to know each other in the devilishly wicked ways I could show him. I even offered to show him exactly what I could do with my broomstick but to no avail. He wanted to make me work hard for this one which is of course exactly what any self respecting devil would do.

Eventually I did manage to lure him away to my seclude little coven, with it being the witching’ hours all the other witches were out. Here I undressed him just enough to apply an extra special love potion concocted just for him. And his cock did like it when this sweet smelling potion was rubbed onto the shaft of his cock, from base to head and smoothed all over his swollen balls that were lightly cupped and squeezed as the potion was applied. And the potion was indeed potent, the naughty witch could tell she had out done herself in conjuring up the mixture from the faint moan of pleasure that escaped from the resisting little devil, she could also tell how much in need of attention the horny devil was in by how tense his thighs were and how much relief he experienced as she pressed her finger tips deep into his flesh in order to relax those tight burning muscles.

As they both noted being very bad as witches and devils are, was a stressful business. They both had to find all kinds of naughty ways to unwind when their dastardly endeavours were done for the day. The horny little devil was very interested in how the naughty witch destressed herself. As she told him when the other witches were in the coven they helped each other relax, rubbing potion into each other’s bodies, from the neck, shoulders, hands cupping pert full tits until they moved down to the stomach. Then lower still, stroking and squeezing tight arses, fingertips finding their way to wet tight pussies that ached for attention and swollen clits that begged to be touched. ‘What,’ the excitable horny devil asked, ‘did the naughty witch do when the other witches were out?’ ‘Well,’ she said ‘when she was alone and felt the need to relax and release some tension she had a box of magic toys she used on herself. ‘Where on herself?’ The now very horny devil asked. ‘On her cunt of course!’ was the naughty witches reply. The horny devil asked the naughty witch to describe her cunt so she did, she told him it was small and tight, always shaved and symmetrical, with a small pink clit that wasn’t so small but instead swollen and enlarged when she herself was horny and in need of sexual relief. The horny devil wanted to hear more about her clit so asked her to touch it and then let him taste her sweet wetness. She readily agreed and once he had tasted her she showed him just how excitable they could both become watching her play with her clit with one of her special magic toys.

The horny devil was eager to be told just how she played with herself, pressing the toy hard into her clit as her pussy responded with a gush of wetness, in readiness for the toy to be slammed deep inside her. So turned on was she that she couldn’t bear to play with her clit for too long, her cunt begged to be filled and she soon gave in. Screaming with pleasure and relief as she rammed it deep inside, harder and harder she banged herself with it knowing she was going to cum very quickly from sheer sexual need. The horny devil had much the same need as he wanked himself hard to the sound track of the naughty witches cries. They both came quickly, orgasms intensified by the prior disagreement they had before they became the naughty witch and Mr. horny devil respectively.

So that’s what I got up to this Halloween, How was yours? The link below I hope is suitably in keeping with the Halloween holiday spirit.

Voodoo Child

 

 

 

Fancy getting naughty with me?

 

 

Since it is Halloween, I thought my pussy  could make an appearance !!

Politically Sexy

I cheered along last week with Ed Milliband’s speech. There was nothing in it I disagreed with. I nodded, I clapped, I got wet and horny because finally there is someone in charge of the Labour Party who speaks my language. Someone who has a vision and more importantly a plan for a new and better future. A good society? Oh yes please. Its what we need, New Labour fucked up by branding itself diet Tory, it adopted Conservative ideas of deregulation, Thatcherite lets leave it to the market policies  that have led squarely to this fine economic mess we find ourselves in. Yep, it was a fuck up. No point saying otherwise. However the Tories plan of more of the same is barking. What is the definition of madness? Doing the same things over and over again and expecting a different result.

Ed Milliband is right to fight for change. I predict that when, in two or three years time the doomed from the start Con-Dem-nable fiasco of a Government we have now crumbles under the weight of its own insurmountable ideological conflicts, a  renewed, re-engerised sparkly different, perhaps, fingers crossed, a more old school Labour will storm the election. You do have to wonder what was going through Nick Clegg’s mind when he did his deal with the devil and agreed to form the coalition. What chance did it ever have when the two parties are ideologically opposed ? The history books do kind of say quite clearly it can’t work and it won’t work. You have to wonder where were his friends ? Why didn’t someone give him a gentle nudge in the ribs and say ‘Maybe not mate’?

Not that I am complaining about Clegg’s own goal, I happen to think he has done Labour a huge favour. Given the party a chance to regroup and rethink. In fact carry on doing a bad job Cameron, use the recession as a vehicle to push through your right wing agenda, make all your cuts to front line services, fuck how many soliders die because numbers have been cut, same for the police, fuck all that so long as you get your way and push this country so far to the right people are clinging over the edge for their lives. I hope the collapse of your Government is both spectacular and spectacularly painful. Team Milliband is waiting to pick up the pieces and its going to happen faster than you think. 

I do see the Tories as the enemy and they are, make no mistake unless you want a fractured broken future for Britain. A future, mad max style, where the rich get richer and everyone else suffers. A Britain where access to education is based on an ability to pay rather than ability. It’s not hard to imagine how bad things could get, look at the States. We take for granted, as UK citizens, that we can, thanks to Old Labour, see a doctor whenever we need to. If the Tories could get away with it don’t think for one second this would remain the case. No, we would all be paying for our own health care more and more until one day you would wake up and realise you are blind because you cannot afford treatment. The insurance company won’t pay out because they define your diabetes as a pre-existing condition. It happens everyday to countless Americans. If you want a UK without libraries, parks, welfare for those genuinely in need (and that could be you one day), a broken down NHS and shit schools vote Tory. Hell, why not go the whole hog and subscribe to the Daily Mail? It’s a bonus if you don’t have an education when you read papers like that and The Express anyway. It makes their bullshit easier to swallow without being sick.

I had to laugh when I heard a story about the Millibands, apparently when one of them was an undergraduate their dads work featured heavily on one of their reading lists. How cool would that be! Ring, ring, ‘Dad, my mates and I are a bit unsure about what you meant here, go over it for us, this is the essay question.’ I compare this to my own circumstances. My dad is a klepto. No seriously he is. He steals from B & Q, put one bit of pipe inside another bit and it really does become buy one get one free. He’s nicked from Greggs. One day I was queuing up inside a very busy Greggs for a cheese pasty (they are the best!), I innocently turned to my dad and asked if he wanted anything. I should have realised something was up, when he was smiling like a cheshire cat, ‘No, no, I am fine’ he said. We got outside and he cheerfully pulls out a chicken club baguette. He very much enjoyed his free lunch, I could tell. However, you have not heard the best of it yet. He has been known to steal from a charity shop. A CHARITY SHOP. As in one day we were having a look round  and when we got outside he gleefully showed me his swag. The look on my face must have said it all because he just pointed to the sign ‘Help the Aged’ and shrugged his shoulders in an enough said fashion. What can you do? You try to bring them up right, failing that nail stuff down but you can’t watch them twenty fours hours a day now can you? Still at least I am studying something that I understand at University: Crime. I promise you my childhood was pure comedy. Black comedy. I learnt to laugh because crying meant I had no friends.

Speaking of friends I thought I would tell you a little bit about how a nice girl like me ended up having phone sex with her mate. The story is not completely unrelated to the politics I hold. Yep, I sit on the left because I want to live in a fairer society. If Iam financially successful in the future I intend not to use the services of any clever accountant that can get me out of paying forty percentage tax. I will happily pay up because I want others to have the opportunies I have had, for kids in the future, who just like me, have grown up on benefits, to be able to go to university or pursue whatever path is right for them. In years to come I do not want privileged voices to be the only ones that can be heard. Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against people who grow up in wealth, no one chooses their parentage but I do want voices like mine around. Just to keep everything honest, to remind them when they feel smug and self satisfied that they would have had to have tried hard to fail. Conveniently enough one of the links at the end of this post will send you to a new comic, well he is new to me anyway. By God he is ever so posh and ever so fucking funny. I have watched this link god knows how many times but I have had to stop because my ribs hurt.

Anyway, I am left wing, I shared my sweets and expressed Marxist ideas long before I understood it was someone else’s concept. My politics stem from the fact I do care about others and it is this caring that led me down the phone sex road.  I shall explain.  A friend of mine, about eighteen months ago, who we will call Major because that’s what he was at the time, was having a hard time. By hard time I mean he had had a leg, half his stomach, two fingers and one ball blown off when he went and saved the lives of three other people he served with. Oh and one innocent child so the word ‘hero’ doesn’t even begin to cover it. When Micheal Moore, in reference to the US military in his home town, says that it is the people who have the least who give the most for their country he is so right. I look at Liverpool. Army Recruitment offices are present in every single town… apart from the affluent ones.

The worse part of my Major friend’s injuries were the stomach problems, so much so he couldn’t eat a lot of foods. He was in permanent pain but couldn’t take anything for his injuries as such medication would have killed him. One day we were chatting about his injuries, he was getting a new leg fitted because he had wrapped the original one around the head of the superior officer who had been fucking his other half while he was having his body parts blown off. You have to love the symbolism, ever a sarcastic bastard my Major friend. Even he admitted he went a bit far tying the guy up and knocking his teeth out with the false leg but would you fuck a girl when her bloke’s nickname is ‘headcase’? No, no you wouldn’t. Anyway in the midst of this conversion he spat out what was on his mind, would I talk dirty to him over the phone one night so he could have a wank and get some sleep? At first I said ‘No, DEFINITELY NO, I just didn’t think I could do it.” 

However, one night I got a phone call at stupid o’clock in the morning, I answered, my friend sounded delirious, explained he hadn’t slept in three days, the pain was bad. In that instance I told him to stick BabeStation on, let me get a coffee, a smoke and then we would get started. I gave the man the best filth I could muster untill he came. He slept for a day, his pain was better, it became a regular thing. I quite enjoyed doing it. I don’t deny it felt good knowing that I was making a real difference to the life of a friend who had had some pretty shitty breaks. Plus I think, not that I know this first hand, that I have made my Major friend a better shag. This is because during the course of the phone sex we had I did impress upon him the importance of foreplay. The joy of the tease, the pleasure of slowly getting there, that the mind has to be turned on for the body to be able to respond, for it to be satisfying.

Now lets fast forward to my current research partner. He also has injuries and more lives than a cat for that matter because he took eleven bullets, still stands on two feet and still does his job in the Army. His boy bits were injuried  in a similar manner and having some experience in this area I did ask one day if he was taking care of himself, rubbing cream in like he is supposed to. He said he wasn’t but he would if I made it fun. At this point I told him the story of why I was no stranger to phone sex and I could make it fun alright. He was a bit surprised because he said he had always believed I was somehow straight laced, a notion we both laugh about now.

This just goes to prove that not every mucky minx shouts about their sexuality. In my real life I keep my sexual self to my self, I don’t discuss what I get up to with people other than with my close friends… oh and you guys. So you can imagine, boyfriends think it is Christmas come thrice when they evenually discover how my dirty dirty brain really works. And having a super tight pussy does not hurt a jot. I do try to put guys at ease, explain that I expect them to cum quick the first few times, its one baby that takes some time to get use to. If you can’t speak openly and honestly with whoever you are sleeping with, be able to laugh then perhaps they should not be sharing your bed. I am a firm believer in getting to know someone before you have sex with them, there is nothing cool or daring about sleeping around, all you are doing is making cheap look expensive. And putting yourself in danger. What if you hook up with a guy and because you know him so well its fine that he has drugged you in preparation for the gangbang him and five of his best mates have in mind? Guys need to careful as well. When you think your luck is in and you get the chance of going back to some Goddess’s place you might also get the chance of handing over all your cash and valuables to that particular goddess’s very big, very hard, male mates. If you want to keep your fingers and teeth. It goes on. 

So that is the story of how a nice girl like me started out in the phone sex world. The reason I decided to do it as a job is because why not make money out of it? When you are poor your options are not your own as I understand all too well, living as I do, in a flat with electrics that might kill me and a kitchen roof that a joiner reckons could fall down at any time… lets hope not on my head, eh?

But I wouldn’t want to mislead you and let you think that all the phone sex sessions my research partner and I engage in are all sexual high jinx and fantasical role play. They do happen and I love telling you about them. However there are a particular type of session that we have that I haven’t yet shared with you. These sessions are chilled out, laughter filled, babestaion on in the background affairs that require nothing more than a generous pot of body lotion. Sometimes the outfit featured in the pictures goes on, sometimes it doesn’t. It depends upon our collective sexual mood.

During these types of sessions I describe how I would massage him in between discussing our days. I tell him how I would cover his cock in endless layers of lotion and circle the base of cock with my fingertips, running my hands up and down, lightly teasing the head with feather light strokes. I describe how I spread his legs and tickle his inner thigh making his balls ache for attention, all while we discuss the different girls on Babestation. Lolly Badcock is a personal favourite, that girl just looks like a good fuck, oozing naughtiness from everyone of her pores. She does it for me because she smiles constantly and has a wicked glint in her eye that just lets you know she could persuade any boy, any girl to be very very bad any day of the week. Lolly would make the most well behaved dog break his leash.

At some point during these sessions after I have described graphically the blow job of his dreams, balls licked and sucked like sweet precious ripe cherries. Legs spread wider still as a hand moves lower teasing his arse until a finger finds its way inside to massage his G spot. All while his cock is sucked with all the deep throat confidence a blow job queen such as myself can bring to the proceedings. And God, giving a blow job makes me feels sexy, if they are tyed up at the time so much the better. I love lying a man down, Kissing his thighs, his stomach, hair ticking his nipples as it flows across his chest. Teasing his thighs apart so I can run my tongue over his balls and play with the skin beneath. The beautiful sight of a rock hard cock is one which I relish, desperate to feel it on my lips, to taste pre cum on my tongue as I tease the head in preparation for taking it deep, deep into my mouth. Long hard slow sucks to begin with, using my tongue to apply pressure to the length as I suck, circling the head with my tongue as I move upwards and then downwards. All until it is time to suck harder and faster, using my hands to wank the base so they feel like their cock is deliciously contained in the warmest tightest, sweetest feeling cunt they could dream of. That reality comes later as I have explained above.

Yep, I love blowjobs. Love them. I think I have even invented a technique all of my own. Its called the helter skelter and works as an appetizer if you will, a tease before the main event. It involves running your tongue from the head to the base in a spiral fashion, just like riding down its namesakes fairground slide. And by God, if its done right, that cock should bloody well want riding by the time it has savoured that particular sexual course.

Of course what I have learned about my research partner is that while he does love hearing exactly what I would do to him what really tips him over the edge is hearing all about what I am doing to myself. How I love to keep at least a pair of ever so pretty and silky knickers on and perhaps wear one of my many pairs of knee high, high heels boots. He loves to hear how I run my toy all over those silky panties, teasing my pussy with the promise of feeling that toy directly against my swollen pink clit at some point soon. He loves to hear how my body shakes when I give my cunt what its is begging for, to listen to the gratifying moan when I slam that toy inside my tight and so so wet pussy. So wet and tight he can hear the tell tale clicky sounds beneanth the ever louder screams as I ram that toy in and out, fucking myself hard, using my other hand to rub my clit back and forth. I am getting so good at turning both of on during these sessions that, much to the delight of my research partner, I often squirt when I come now. My pussy is so wet by the time I have exploded that the inside of my thighs are dripping with sweet juice. The taste and smell of which I love as I enjoy my coffee and smoke that is very much needed after a session like that. We both have to come back down to planet Earth after all. No it wasn’t an earthquake, we are just getting really good at this.

And there you have it. From the response I have had from including pictures with the last post I have decided to make their inclusion a bit more of a regular thing. It seems people liked the last post and you have my research partner’s commanding officer to thank for it. I was having a chat with him, as you do with a two star general and he told my research partner I sounded less scouse and more like I was from the country. From that remark that particular scenario was born. Thanks George. I hope you like Miles Jupp as much as I do and as for the inclusion of the second link ‘I want to be a Popstar’ by James at War. I am having a laugh at myself here. If I could sing, even just a little bit   I SO WOULD. Mind you, given The Saturdays performance during the Help for Heros concert not being able to sing doesn’t appear to be quite the dealbreaker it used to be, Autotune anyone?… mmh I wonder, I can dance.