Tuesday, December 21, 2004


Willy is my child, he is my father
I would be his lady all my life
He says he'd love to live with me
But for an ancient injury
That has not healed
He said "I feel once again
Like I gave my heart too soon"
He stood looking thru the lace
At the face on the conquered moon
And counting all the cars up the hill
And the stars on my window sill
There are still more reasons why I love him

Willy is my joy, he is my sorrow
Now he wants to run away and hide
He says our love cannot be real
He cannot hear the chapel's pealing silver bells
But you know it's hard to tell
When you're in the spell if it's wrong or if it's real
But you're bound to lose
If you let the blues get you scared to feel
And I feel like I'm just being born
Like a shiny light breaking in a storm
There are so many reasons why I love him

-Joni Mitchell

Thursday, December 09, 2004

I am so insanely happy right now

I have been dreading Christmas. Well, I always dread Christmas (damn it is such a depressing time of year,) but this year I have been dreading it even more than usual. This is because my boyfriend was supposed to leave for a different continent right after it.

I will be in a different city from January to April for school reasons, and my boyfriend will be gone during that same time period, also for school reasons. Now the rub is, if it wasn't for some silly circumstances, he would be in the same city as me.

However, I just got some fabulous news. His work visa will not be coming through until after New Year's, so we will have quite a few precious, precious days together in my new city. Ahh to sleep in his arms night after night...and hopefully engage in some other, fun activities...


I love PDAs. Public displays of affection. In this case I don't mean my public displays of affection with my boyfriend, though. I mean, I love watching other couples engage in it. Why? Because I like it when other people are happy. I like seeing that other people are finding joy in each other, that there is nothing they would rather be doing than touching each other. There is not nearly enough joy in the world, so seeing any small addition to it is good.

I don't understand those prudes who get upset by it. On numerous occasions my boyfriend and I have had dirty looks and even nasty comments thrown our way for kissing in public. I always feel sorry for the people doing this, since they clearly are in need of a little affection themselves.

Of course, anyone doing anything too intimate in, say, the grocery store, is going a bit far. For me, though, there is absolutely nothing hotter than watching a couple feel each other up on a crowded dance floor.

Wednesday, December 08, 2004

I want and I want and I will always be hungry

This song is amazing. Such great lyrics: red hot and always surprising. A big thank you goes out to Eden and her blog Just One Bite for introducing me to it. Go listen to it on her Soundblox for the full effect. I can't recommend the album just yet because I haven't heard it, but I will soon.

I Want

I want to know how it'll end. I want to be sure of what it'll cost. I want to strangle the stars for all they promised me. I want you to call me on your drug phone. I want to keep you alive so there is always the possibility of murder later. I want to be there when you learn the cost of desire. I want you to understand that my malevolence is just a way to win. I want the name of the ruiner. I want matches in case I have to suddenly burn. I want you to know that being kind is overrated. I want to write my secret across your sky. I want to watch you lose control. I want to watch you lose. I want to know exactly what it's going to take. I want to see you insert yourself into glory. I want your touches to scar me so I'll know where you've been. I want you to watch when I go down in flames. I want a list of atrocities done in your name. I want to reach my hand into the dark and feel what reaches back. I want to remember when my nightmares were clearer. I want to be there when your hot black rage rips wide open. I want to taste my own kind. I want to be wrapped in cold wet sheets to see if it's different on this side. I want you to come on strong. I want to leave you out in the cold. I want the exact same thing but different. I want some soft drugs.. some soft, soft drugs. I want to throw you. I want you to know I know. I want to know if you read me. I want to swing with my eyes shut and see what I hit. I want to know just how much you hate me so I can predict what you'll do. I want you to know the wounds are self-inflicted. I want a controlling interest. I want to be somewhere beautiful when I die. I want to be your secret hater. I want to stop destroying you but I can't. And I want and I want and I want and I will always be hungry. And I want and I want and I want.

-Recoil feat. Nicole Blackman

Red Right Ankle

This is the story of your red right ankle
And how it came to meet your leg
And how the muscle, bone, and sinews tangled
And how the skin was softly shed
And how it whispered "Oh, adhere to me
For we are bound by symmetry
And whatever differences our lives have been
We together make a limb."
This is the story of your red right ankle.

This is the story of your gypsy uncle
You never knew 'cause he was dead
And how his face was carved and rift with wrinkles
In the picture in your head.
And remember how you found the key
To his hideout in the Pyrenees
But you wanted to keep his secret safe
So you threw the key away.
This is the story of your gypsy uncle.

This is the story of the boys who loved you
Who love you now and loved you then
Some were sweet and some were cold and snuffed you
Some just laid around in bed.
Some had crumbled you straight to your knees
Did it cruel, did it tenderly
Some had crawled their way into your heart
To rend its ventricles apart.
This is the story of the boys who loved you
This is the story of your red right ankle.

- The Decembrists

Jude Law's got nothing on my man

Top ten reasons why my boyfriend is the sexiest man alive (at least to me):

10) He always opens doors for me. He gets mad when I try to do it for myself.

9) He's studying to be an engineer. There's something so sexy about engineers; they're so precise and logical and capable.

8) He has a slight hint of an accent because he was not born in Canada. It just turns his 'th's into 'd's and makes him pronounce certain words funny but it's enough to drive me crazy. In a good way.

7) He has the softest body hair of anyone I've been with, and there's lots of it. I love my men hairy.

6) He is unbelievably beautiful when he smiles.

5) He grabs me in public. I love that.

4) He knows when to be civilized and when to misbehave.

3) He has a deep sexy voice that I love to listen to, especially when he is speaking his native language. (Although, when I tickle him he giggles most delightfully.)

2) He knows exactly how to touch my body, even though by his own admission he is inexperienced. He's a natural. Mmmm.

And the number one reason why my boyfriend is the sexiest man alive:

1) He can undress me with his teeth. Shit.

Tuesday, December 07, 2004

Platinum card-carrying member of the MHC

I mention in the sidebar that I have a 'dark side' so I was planning on posting about it, but I don't know if I'm quite ready for that yet. So to warm up a bit, I thought I'd write about the weirdest place I have had sex: an airplane.

While I'd say that the Mile High Club's membership is still somewhat limited, these days it's pretty ho hum to say you've had sex in an airplane. In fact, you can read all about it here at this excellent and entertaining website. It seems everyone's jumping on the bandwagon. But my experience was a little more unique and dangerous than that.

I've had sex in the cockpit of an airplane. A small airplane. A Cessna 172 to be exact. With the pilot. While he was flying the plane.

My boyfriend at the time had been dreaming about doing this since he got his private pilot's license. To be quite honest, it was a rather unsexy experience, just because there were so many logistics to consider. For one, the cockpit is small. And the seats slope backwards, so to move at all is sort of difficult. But we managed. We managed quite well. He came in about two minutes, he was so excited. At the time I was a little disappointed that he didn't last very long, but now that I think about it, that was probably a good thing since I'm sure he wasn't paying too much attention to flying the plane. It was quite surreal, to be fucking him while looking out the window at the tiny houses below. Once we were done, we were totally lost and had to radio the tower for directions. If only they knew what we had been up to.

For something really surreal, check this out.

Mmm, yummy

Speaking of One Night At McCool's, Liv Tyler is definitely on my list of women I'd do if I had a chance.

Tie me up

On the review notes for my pseudo-chemistry class, one of the points the prof said we should study was "bondage, no, bonding in electrons." Now to me, with my dirty mind, that is the obvious joke. But for my middle-aged professor to be into bondage strikes me as funny. The mental image reminds me of Paul Reiser in One Night At McCool's:

Too bad I couldn't find a picture of the rest of his outfit, but if you want a laugh, go rent that movie.

Sunday, December 05, 2004

Forgive me Father, but I'm falling in love, and that's all I have for confession today

It's 3:45am and I have been working on a montrous project all night. I am dead tired and would like nothing more than to crawl into bed with my man and lose myself in his warmth and the oblivion of sleep. But alas, he is across the city and my bed is cold and lonely. But no less welcoming for all that. God it will feel good to get into that bed when I am done this evil project.

Reports are the devil.

Saturday, December 04, 2004

I still can't get enough of you

(Continued from I just can't get enough of you, baby)

The night wore on, and we stayed awake, shifting positions, enjoying the ebb and flow of pleasure from one to the other. Sometimes I lay still on top of him, feeling warm and safe and knitted to him by gravity and the strength of his arms around me. Sometimes I hovered above him, my hands skimming lightly over his skin, darting in quickly to kiss the curve of his ribs or a dark nipple. And sometimes he nestled between my legs, kissing my mouth, drawing wet ticklish circles on my breasts with his tongue. There was nothing in the world but him; my senses were full of him, his touch, his scent, his breath in my ear.

But through it all he would never quite let me touch him in the one place that I yearned for. His cock seemed rock-hard and I marvelled that he could restrain himself through all this. My own cunt throbbed, a hole begging to be filled. But even more than that, I wanted him in my mouth. I desperately wanted to give him pleasure.

At some point I decided to end this coy bullshit. I hooked my thumbs in the waistband of his shorts and eased them off; his cock sprang out, hard and beautiful. I heard him make a sound deep in his throat as I lightly touched the silky shaft. It felt wonderful. Like heaven. I began to stroke him in earnest, and after a few minutes he groaned:

"Stop, or I will make a mess of your sheets."

How could I explain to him, this good, innocent man, that this is what I want? That I want his hot cum to paint my body with white streaks, to fill my mouth and all of my other orifices. I want to drink it in, his essence, the distillation of everything he is.

Instead I did as I was told. I stopped. And I leaned over his prone form to take his hard cock in my mouth. It was such a short time, such a precious short time that he spent there, before I felt him contract rhythmically, strongly, depositing into my mouth spurt after spurt of the sweetest cum I have ever tasted.

I planted a kiss on the soft head of his penis and crawled back up the bed to nestle small and happy in the curve of his broad shoulder. And was struck with the sudden, demanding urge to do it all over again.

Friday, December 03, 2004

She was into S&M and bible studies, not everyone's cup of tea

My part time job, at a large retail chain, is mostly awful. It's a source of income, and that's about it. But there's one thing that gets me through my shift.

We just got a new store manager a few months ago, and he's a far cry from the unapproachable assholes that we used to have. He's young, funny, charismatic, and unbelievably hot. He's married with small children, but that doesn't stop me from fantasizing about kneeling naked on the concrete stockroom floor, sucking his cock with my hands bound behind my back. I bet he's got a nice, fat dick. And an ass to die for. I wonder if his pubic hair is as flaming red as the hair on his head...

Such thoughts are NOT conducive to efficient customer service.

Thursday, December 02, 2004

Missing your cock

My fuckbuddy E once sent me some very grainy pictures of his erect cock during a particularily steamy session of cybersex. They got me so wet I was afraid I was going to ruin the fabric of my office chair.

I don't know why they had such an effect on me, but I suspect it has something to do with the fact that his was the first real live cock I ever saw. The first phallus I ever worshipped at.

I got rid of those pictures a while ago in a fit of hard drive feng shui. Now that my life seems once again to be semi-devoid of real cock, I am really, really wishing I hadn't.

Wednesday, December 01, 2004


Should there be love
the soul may ride
the river of the blood
through rapids
over falls
past breaking rocks
into a harbour
safe from time,
or so the story goes.

Not yet prepared
to denounce the text,
I can say, nonetheless,
that the falls
rapids rocks
aren't just
scenic attractions.
Shake you pretty good,
they do.

--Guy Gavriel Kay