Right thinking


I can’t stop thinking about my pussy today.  Can’t stop thinking with my pussy.  Even that word–and others, “cunt” in particular–seem to be in my head a lot more often than they should be today.  I am afraid someone is going to ask me a question and I am going to say, “Yes, according to my cunt…” Of course he did tell me last night that I should be thinking with and about my cunt all the time, so I’m just being a good girl, right?

We had a “vanilla” night last night.  Vanilla being relative, since we spent the evening workimjw04990e2ng on dirty writing, on getting a new sexy feature ready for Bondage Demons (I’ll let you know when it’s up, it’s pretty hot, if I do say so myself), and looking through pictures of our recent (and not so recent) scenes.  Yummm!  Damn some of that stuff is hot.  Oh, and I happened to have my legs tied open while I worked.  So, maybe not so vanilla after all.

This is the part of being a kinky girl that I love.  Random horniness, random sexiness, random nastiness that can just crop up anywhere, anytime, even while I am sitting here at work minding my own business…

I had the funniest conversation with W last night as well about sex toys.  (Ok, SO not a vanilla night, in retrospect, but c’mon, compared to getting tied up, beat and fucked every which way?  WAY vanilla.) Anyway, I got some new sex toys in the mail, a special treat to myself.  I bought:

gigi1“Gigi”, a vibrating G-spot stimulator, because my guys can find my g-spot like nobody’s business…but…ummm…I can never seem to.  Or at least it doesn’t feel “oh-my-fucking-god!” the way it does when they touch me there.  I put forth the supposition that this is akin one not being able to tickle oneself.  Whatever the reason, I really wanted to try something else…I like that feeling, and since I like sex with myself, I wanted to find a way to do that to myself.  Clit only can be a little, well, prosaic at times.  So Gigi and I, with A in attendance, had our own little party.  And it worked pretty well, after I struggled awhile to find the spot.  But once I did–yumm!  I think that one’s a keeper.

laya_spot_46161The “Laya Spot”.  I got it because my home vibe of choice is the Cadillac of vibes, the Hitachi Magic Wand, but it’s a plug-in, it’s BIG, it’s a bit unwieldy, and, let’s face it, it has enough power to get a horse off.  Sometimes I want something…slower…gentler…less powerful.  Sometimes I want a sailboat ride as opposed to a speedboat.  Also, I can take it with me over to W’s (assuming he’d be into letting me use it), and lastly, sometimes Baldy (as I fondly refer to my Hitachi) can get in the way.  Unfortunately I tried the Laya at the same time as Gigi, and two buzzy things down there did NOT go over so well.  Gigi won out for that evening’s entertainment, but I am willing to give the Laya a proper re-trial and see how it goes next time.

What was amusing to me about talking to W about the toys is that he is just not a toy guy.  He looks at them as “cheating.”  I hope I turned him in the right direction…an orgasm is an orgasm, and sex toys are as legitimate way to find pleasure as a hand, mouth, a bit of rope or a glass dildo, and as a bonus can also be used as a torture device.  That’s why I’m not going anywhere near him with one of the other toys I bought:  Mr. BendyBeads.


I can very much imagine the fun he would have using that on my poor ass, while all I want is the yummy delicious feeling as it is gently pulled out while I orgasm.  Heh.

But you know, seriously, I am getting enough sex for a troop of Girl Scouts (oh no, did I just write that?!), so I should not be horny.  But I am.  The more I get, the more I want.  So shoot me.

Or fuck me.  Whichever.

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