Tuesday, March 18, 2014

TMI Tuesday - Shopping List

This week's TMI was brought to us by Virtual Sin. I am sure he won't mind if I take a little twist to the questions he has suggested. So I have answered the questions from the point of view of my vagina. Well as well as I can because she doesn't tell me everything that is going on with her all of the time.

1. Name a category for which you are very fussy and only one product will do. Name the product.
Despite spending a fair amount of time looking at and reading about different types of vibrators the only one I have really ever liked is my el cheapo "Big Red". He is like a faithful friend that can be relied on to come to the party every time. 

2. Name a category for which you are fussy about quality and buy top of the line brands.
I  would have to say condoms. Cheap definitely does not cut it. Especially latex. The best condoms, even though they may be more expensive, are "Skyns". 

3. Name a category for which are the most interested in price and will buy whatever brand is cheapest.
Cheap??? Seriously??? Like I would be interested in anything that is cheap.

4. Name a category for which you are unable to find a satisfactory product.
I would have to say lube. Lube is definitely a very good thing to have on hand and it can turn a bad situation right around. However it would be great if there was such a thing as a water based lube that didn't need to be re-applied regularly. While on the topic of lube I just want to say that flavoured lube does not taste great, and those lubes that warm and cool; keep them right away from my vagina!!!!

5. Name a product that has disappeared from the market for which you have been unable to find a satisfactory substitute.
I can't think of an answer for this one maybe I will think of something and come back with an answer later. 

6. Name a product that you buy that your mother or father used to buy.
My mother and father are strict Catholics and monogamists. I am sure they only ever have sex in the missionary position with the lights off. I am positive that there isn't any thing that I would put near my vagina that either of my parents used mostly out of fear that I end up the same way.

7. Name a product that you wont buy because your mother or father used to buy it.
See the answer to number 6. If I ever discovered any sex related item that they have purchase I would make a point of not buying it. Aside from the fear of turning into the prudes that they are I don't think I could use it without thinking about my parents which is just plain wrong.

8. Name a product that is over rated.
It is not a product but the idea that size doesn't matter is definitely over rated. That is not to say bigger is better. There is a definite range of size that is acceptable. Like Goldilocks says,
"Just right!"

9. Name a product that is under-rated.
Again not really a product but the ability to deliver a quality sensual spanking is definitely something that there is not enough of in the world. 


Bonus: If there was one product that you would re-invent or improve what is it?
As I said in question 4. Long-lasting water based lube. Or maybe a condom that doesn't leave that plasticky or rubbery taste in your mouth. 


Of course, as usual you can check out other TMI confessions at the TMI Tuesday page. 
























Thursday, March 6, 2014

Genie



Wicked

This week's prompt from Rebel was 

 prompt106

It is probably a little chiche but this popped into my head.




With ferocious glee Tabitha shoved the last of the old clothing into plastic bags and threw the bag onto the pile she had allocated to give to charity. Picking up the broom she swept the last of the dust and debris into a neat pile in the middle of the room. She picked up the broom and swept dust into a pile before sweeping it into a dustpan to carry out to the bin. Finally she allowed herself time to look around the room and remember. As a child Tabitha and her brother had spent many happy afternoons in this attic playing hide and seek among the furniture and trunks. As she had grown up her Grandmother had taken her up here to delve into dusty trunks looking for treasures Granny had collected as a young woman travelling the world. Some of Granny's treasures were so exotic Tabitha could not even imagine the places she would have travelled to collect them. Now Granny was gone and the house had to be sold. All the trinkets and treasures were divided up between the family or sold off. It had broken Tabitha's heart.



Taking a deep breath, Tabitha shook herself out of her melancholy, "What is past is past," she remembered her Granny saying many times, "No use worrying about what could have been. You are better off using your energy to worry about what can be." She turned to take the last of the bags of rubbish down to the bin. Sitting beside the plastic bag she noticed a lamp. A puzzled frown creased her brow. She didn't remember putting it there. Nor did she ever remember seeing it in the Attic. It didn't even look like anything else Granny had collected. But there it was, as large as life sitting in the corner by the stairs.



Setting down her bags Tabitha stepped over and picked up the lamp, it seemed to be made out of brass but it was very tarnished and dusty. Without thinking Tabitha wiped the top of the lamp with her hand, smoothing the dust off. There was a flash of light and suddenly the top of the staircase was filled with a large honey coloured man.



With a gasp Tabitha stepped back in shock. For a few moments all she could do was gape at his smooth well-muscled body. His skin was a dark honey colour and didn't appear to have a single hair gracing his chest. Tabitha had to fight off a strong urge to step forward run her hand over his smooth, rippling chest. Her eyes travelled downwards over his stomach noting the small line of hair that led from his belly button downwards into the loincloth that was tied around his waist.



The loincloth; it was the only garment he was wearing. If you could call it a garment. It barely covered anything. Heat rose in Tabitha's cheeks as she thought for a moment about what the loincloth was trying to cover.  



"You have three wishes," a deep voice sent a melting heat straight through Tabitha's uterus. Suddenly her whole groin seemed to be throbbing. She forced herself to look up into his eyes.



"What?" she was confused.



"You have three wishes," repeated calmly and completely without expression.



"Or?" Tabitha really didn't like being told what to do, or being given ultimatums.



"I will be your constant companion until you have made three wishes." The man pronounced. "I am bound by the genie code to attend the person who rubs my lamp until I grant them their three wishes."



"And then what?" Tabitha continued getting, a perverse pleasure from being difficult.



"I return to the lamp until it can be hidden and found again by another unsuspecting person." The Genie's voice held a very slight note of terseness.



"What if I wish for something you can't do." Tabitha couldn't resist seeing how much she could provoke the Genie.



A tiny frown appeared at the centre of the Genie's brow. It didn't mar the beauty of his features; in fact it made Tabitha even more attracted to him. "I am bound to be your companion until I can grant you three wishes." the Genie continued doing an admirable job of keeping the irritation out of his voice. For some odd reason Tabitha looked down. Was she imagining it or was the loincloth having more difficulty covering the Genie's loins?



"I can't believe it," Tabitha was amazed at the thought. "He is turned on by me bossing him around. Well if that is how he likes it." Tabitha came to a decision.



"I wish there was a spa downstairs waiting for me with scented oil and twenty, no fifty, candles lighting the bathroom.



A muscle flicked in the Genie's cheek, "Done!" he replied.



Tabitha frowned at him in disbelief, "Granny doesn't have a spa!" she scoffed.



The Genie stepped aside and waved his arm over the staircase, "She does now," he replied simply.



Tabitha made her way down the stairs and along the hall to the bathroom. The Genie followed her, almost silent on the wooden floorboards. At the door to the bathroom Tabitha turned to face him,



"If I don't make all my wishes straight away," she began, "like if I think about what I want for a few days. What happens then?"



"I am your constant companion until I have granted you three wishes." The Genie replied simply. Without her even being conscious of it Tabitha glanced downwards. The bulge in the Genie's loincloth seemed even bigger. A wicked inkling of an idea began at the back of her mind. She turned and opened the door. Granny's bathroom had been completely remodelled. In the corner sat a spa big enough for at least three people, four if they were really good friends, or one girl and a huge genie, said the wicked voice at the back of Tabitha's mind.



She turned and looked at the Genie standing in the doorway of the bathroom. "Constant companion?"  She asked, looking at him wickedly.



"Constant," he replied with a completely straight face.



Tabitha turned her back and walked towards the spa. She slipped her shirt down over her arms and let it slide to the floor. The rest of her clothes followed suit. Only when she was about to step into the bath she turned to the Genie. His eyes were fixed on a spot on the wall behind her. Only the loincloth gave him away, and a slight trickle of sweat forming on his brow.



"Would you like to join me?" she asked as she placed one foot into the water.



The Genie stepped into the room as he made his way across to her Tabitha felt his eyes burning her naked flesh. He stopped in front of her, his smooth honey coloured chest millimetres away from her hard nipples. His eyes were dark pools of lust. Tabitha felt her cunt throbbing and wetness forming over the top if her thighs. Her breath caught in her throat.



"As you wish," the genie reached down and unclasped his loincloth letting it slide to the floor to join Tabitha's clothes. He placed his hands on her hips and pulled her closer to him, pressing his cock against her belly. Tabitha was helpless. He could do anything he wanted to her. All she wanted was his cock. "Or do you wish for something else?" He whispered as he caressed the side of her neck with his lips. With one hand he reached between her legs, to caress her wet cunt. Only his arm wrapped around her pushing her against his hard body stopped her from collapsing in a puddle of lust on the floor. She whimpered, unable to say anything as he stroked and caressed her before sliding his fingers inside her.



He lifted her up and placed her gently into the warm swirling water. "I don't want to use up all my wishes at once," she said as he stepped into the opposite end of the spa.



There was a pause as he settled himself and arranged her legs so that he could stroke her thighs. "If I wish for the same thing it doesn't count." 





Want more wickedness? Check out the Wicked Wednesday page here

Sunday, March 2, 2014

Balancing Act



The prompt for last week's Wicked Wednesday was "Balance" I was inspired to write a post based on an experience that I had on a night out very recently. Unfortunately due to the imbalance in my life at the moment I was not able to post in time for the prompt but I still want to share my thoughts with you all so here they are.

It wasn't as if the dress I was wearing was frumpy. It wasn't. I had chosen it because it was not frumpy. But it did match the other criteria; it was for vanilla wear. Not pure vanilla wear, the kind that required clothes that you can't see down, up or through, but for wearing in public, around normal people who may look at my cleavage and appreciate but who were not then going to take the time to look elsewhere. 

I had chosen the dress because of the cleavage. It was revealing enough that it was impossible to wear a bra underneath. It showed a good bit of front cleavage, but an interesting addition was the side boob display. I wasn't displaying myself for just everyone but I knew that certain people in my party would appreciate the not so subtle hint of what lay beneath the fabric. 

Cleavage display was where the sexiness ended. I had owned this particular dress for a while. It had chosen it because of the cleavage display properties. It had sat in my cupboard on many occasions because of it's other features. The fabric was cheap synthetic, it sat OK but on warm nights it tended to itch a bit. The pattern was beige and red, an interesting combination that looked nice. But it didn't pop. It wasn't a dress that said look at me. And it came down well past my knees. 

Dresses that come down past the knees can be very sexy, mostly if they are sheer or clinging or flowy. This dress wasn't any of those things. But it was nice, and it was appropriate despite the fact if barely covered my breasts. It wasn't appropriate for parent teacher interviews, or for wearing to church but it was appropriate to wear among the general population and that was what counted at that time. 

After dinner we went to a club. I had brought another dress to change into, one that definitely wasn't appropriate for dinner but was entirely appropriate for the venue we were heading to. I had planned to change it would have taken me all of five minutes to change but everyone I was with assured me I looked fine, that the dress I had on was sexy enough and that in time it wouldn't matter. We are all naked underneath right. I was feeling compliant, my day job required me to be in control and dominant all the time. On the weekend I liked to relax, part of that was just going with the flow and doing what I was told without thinking about it too much. So I didn't change. 

People told me I looked nice and sexy and all the rest of it, that the dress was sexy but I was achingly conscious of being the only person in the room who was wearing a dress that went past my thighs. Except for the woman wearing white pants. She looked like she should be at a yacht club not a swingers club. Unlike me she didn't care, she was feeling the sexy and it showed on her face. 

The night went on and I had some sexy fun with a sexy man. I am still amazed about the way my vagina has its own opinions about which penises it likes. Once she and I were on quite close terms but at the moment I think she feels a little neglected. It was good to make her smile again. As I went through the post coital dressing routine I considered ditching the dress and just wandering around in my knickers and shoes. I knew that a lot of people would appreciate it but I was concerned about rules in the main bar area. I wasn't in the right headspace to buck the system, so I dressed. 

Later my friend and I watched a very sexy girl pole dance. I commented that she needed someone to show her how it was done. My friend said to me,
"Well off you go then." 
My reply, "This dress doesn't do pole dancing."
With that I was dispatched to the car to change. I wasn't really conscious of how much I wanted to be out of the dress but as I stepped out of the club door and walked towards the car I was stripping. I didn't care that I was walking through a parking lot. As I stood beside the car I pulled the dress down over my hips and stood there in the headlights of a passing taxi rummaging on the back seat for my other dress. I really didn't care all I cared about was being appropriately dressed. 

The difference was amazing. Suddenly I was the woman in the white pants who didn't care what other people were thinking. I was rocking the sexy. My dress made no difference to anything anyone said to me. It did not bring all the boys to my yard and it didn't turn every head in the place. It didn't make Mr Fix it act differently, he had already had his way with me when I was wearing the frumpy dress.

What it did do was get me on the dance floor to give Jake a lap dance and to gyrate hips with Mrs Fix it until we noticed that our respective husbands had stopped paying an appropriate amount of attention. By then we were starting to acquire a small audience but once I caught them discussing hardware the show was over! 

Why did a dress make so much difference? Mrs Fix It's theory is that the first dress belongs to Mrs Biology Teacher, although it is certainly not appropriate teacher attire. The second dress was entirely Gemma. She is right of course. Sadly Gemma has spent far too much time in the closet recently. I hadn't realised until that point how much I missed her. Lying here writing this has been as cleansing an experience as cleaning the linen cupboard. There are people in the world who will understand what I mean by that comment. 

It is time to address the balance and bring Gemma out for a spin now and again.