Memories

do you remember when we went to that wedding out east and instead of actually ATTENDING the wedding we spent the weekend making love in that gorgeous b&b, stopping only to take beautiful fall walks in the adjoining country side?

do you remember when we were on that deal in London and you saved me from that drunk football hooligan?

do you remember my threat of “toothy blowjobs” for the next 10 years if you insisted on still doing the skirt tuck?

do you remember looking after me after my 30th for pretty much 2 days straight?

do you remember drinking till dawn in Cabo, then surfing till noon, fucking till dinner then starting up all over again?

do you remember that strip club in austin?

do you remember me setting you up with your 6th and 7th girlfriend in Toronto?

you MUST remember fucking me senseless in that men’s washroom in that conference centre in seattle, and then what happened afterwards?

*I* do

flashback . . . . ?

it’s been too long since i’ve been in this predicament. when i saw this pic for the first time, my panties flooded.

you

just the thought of dressing up for you makes me wet.

i go over in my mind, what i think will please you most. it feels odd to try and think of an outfit for you, that i ultimately want you to rip from my body. all that effort . . . but it’s worth it. i know what you like, and for me  it’s quite simple. the hint of a garter strap through my form fitting skirt. a taste of my stocking top through that slit up the side of my skirt. a lacey bra peeking through by “unbottoned just to there” blouse. classy, yet high, heels. i know my louboutins drive you wild. all these talismans on what is to come next make me shiver with delight. your hands on my body, bending me this way and that way to suit your needs. tearing my blouse from me. lifting my skirt roughly. my head is dizzy with lust as i slip on my heels. it’s all i can do from just frigging my slick pussy through my thong, right here and right now.

i think of you as i pull my stockings on. adjusting the seam so it’s just right. adjusting the ankle strap of my heels.

just the thought of what comes next makes me wet.

the sweet intrusion of your hardness into my waiting mouth. the feeling of it as it passes over my lips, my tongue. the connection is intense. the ringing in my ears as your cock thrusts in and out of me. i want to taste your essence, your manhood. i want to please you so. doing all the little things that make your stomach jump. twisting my head, too and fro. looking up at you with my wide eyes. pleading for you. moaning my pleasure as i suck as hard as i can.

it possesses me. it overwhelms me.

lou-lou-louboutin!!

look what i just bought online! having all this free time is REALLY hurting my pocket book.

housekeeping

so with the markets in turmoil and all of us waiting on pins in needles to be laid off, i figured it would be a great time to clean up my little diary. i’m not even going to mention the fact that i’ve posted more this week than i have in the last 3 years put together. that would just jinx it.

yes, i’m still calling it a diary. i’m NOT a blogger. i still have a sweet spot for my old diaryland diary, so as a tribute, this thing here will remain a DIARY. how special.

so i’ve added some cool new widgest to the diary. i’m not even sure if anyone even reads my diary, but i don’t care. well i do, i’m just as much a fame whore as the next girl. but i don’t really deserve the attention if i don’t post, so i will remain ambivalent until that time actually comes.

good ol’ bay street hasn’t seemed the same over the last 5 months. time has flown though. there is a certain dread hanging over everyone. i’ve heard some horror stories about houses being repossessed and the like. but that’s been more of a case of people living beyond their means. who am i to frown, as i’ve been quite loose with the credit lately, trying single handedly to spend canada out of the recession. has it worked? i know, at least, i look prettier. canada’s financial future, not so much.

even the regular bay street hangouts seem quite staid lately. less of the bottle service debauchery that has characterized the last couple of years. it seems with the lack of liquidity, the boys are less aggressive. there was a time when anything in a skirt was chased relentless until, at the very least, an awkward handjob was given in the back alley behind the bar. nowadays, the boys seem more reserved, almost pleading.

it’s kinda sad actually. anyways, back to work.

oh, for those who care, i’m wearing pants today. a sign of the times? i hope not.

so sensuous

there’s something about putting stockings on that makes me happy horny.

and I’m talking REAL stockings. silk stockings with a seam, that require a good old fashioned garter belt.

just the act of putting them on, really gets me excited.

scrunching the soft fibres into a little hoop and rolling them up my leg slowly. the dark material slowly turning my tanned leg a darker shade. i love my legs in stockings. they accentuate every little curve and muscle that i’ve worked so hard for.  then sitting there, with my leg up, admiring my handiwork, i smooth out the creases. i can’t help but get a little aroused at the thought of all the men that will speculate . . . pantyhose or stockings.

i wore stockings and garters today because they do make me happy. seeing as there isn’t a lot to be happy about market wise, i thought i’d do my part to bring a little cheer into the office.

here’s hoping it actually helps.

UPDATE: well it probably speaks to how unoriginaly i am, but in going through some of my old posts, and it looks like i’ve had similar thoughts before. if anyone even reads this blog, i challenge you to figure out when. if you do, i’ll send you something special.

Desire and . . . . Denial

T has a spell over me like i haven’t felt in awhile.

his long fat cock is a sight to behold and a sensation to experience. he brings out my inner slut, like only a few men have done, and even fewer have done in recent memory. the way his cock pistons inside of me, i can feel it from my pussy lips, to my cervix and into my stomach through to my head. he makes my whole body shiver.

when he’s fucking me, i want the sensations to last forever. the way he handles me brooks in argument (needless to say there is no argument coming from these lips). he knows how to work my body. when he feels that i’m getting close, he often slows his pace, not letting me get to that place. he has me like putty in the palm of his hand when he does that. i’d do anything at that point for him to continue. i moan and mewl in frustration, but then he continues for just that little bit more, just as a reminder of why he owns my body, and then he stops to underline the point. i’m a sopping mess at that point. he fucked me like this this weekend, for what it seemed like 3 or 4 hours. never letting me cum. always bringing me to the brink. i was quivering mass of gelatin at the point. i had entered into a haze of gauzy pleasure. my body was completely drenched and i was begging him. pleading for him to take me there. but he wouldn’t. he just kept pumping away, then stoping. then changing my position. leg over his shoulder. both legs over his shoulder. on my hands and knees. i tried pulling away once, attempting to re-assert some sort of control, but he simply flipped me over like a rag doll, thrust his beautiful cock home even deeper from behind and and i was shattered, lying on my stomach with my ass up invitingly. spooning. grinding. but never cumming. finally, with my throat raw from all the screaming and with a smirk on his face, he gave me permission to cum. it was mindblowing. i had no sound coming from me. just an eyes closed, mouth open, neck arched, toes curled super big O. 

the boy has stamina, i can tell you that for sure.

i know, i know

i yammer and i yammer about keeping my poor blog up to date, but i never follow through. well, at least this time I had a bit of an excuse. instead of taking a week off like i had originally planned, i decided to leave my job and take some time off. i did a world wind tour of the world, and visited as many friends as i could, in far flung places like new york, london, paris, hong kong, singapore, helsinki, budpest and finally vancouver (yes, i know, the last one was a bit of let down . i’m finally back, though, and ready to give this another try. i don’t start my new job for another couple of weeks, so at least i’ll have the time. jeepers, first i’ll have to unpack though.

by the way, a friend of mine sent this to me, and considering my recent adventures, i thought it kind of apropos. can you guess which one i am?

Guess which one I am?

Something was going on in the office today . . .

i wore these in the office today. i think the boys on the floor were a little unsettled

more to come.

another one bites the dust . . .

 well, yet another wedding, of yet another traitor. here i am with the girls that are left. guess which one is me! even worse, there were no pretty boys to take home to fuck. sigh.