03/03: Tittums
I have received a personal message from a concerned correspondent. It seems he has become worried about the proportions of my tittums, as a result of recent comments on the board. Urban Dictionary to me is fast becoming what Google is to donker and a quick check confirmed my suspicions that "tittums" is in fact another word for funpillows.
I have admitted myself, both privately and publicly, that they're not THAT big in the greater scheme of things, but I certainly wouldn't describe them as small. However, as we all know, size doesn't matter anyway, does it? Or does it. To be on the safe side I checked out "boobies" in the aforementioned dictionary and it said the following:
Okay if small
Better if they protrude
Even better if they bifurcate
Best if they have also have big areola
It seems that anything goes, but that there are certain common preferences regarding form (is it actually possible to have tittums that don't bifurcate, by the way?). The trouble with the above criteria though is that no indication is given regarding what's actually acceptable in terms of size. This brings me back to my concerned correspondent who states that, "I do like a bird with a bit in the tittums department". What's "a bit"?? Is there a cup size cut-off or something? How's a bird to know? Likewise the areola: if you've not seen many, let alone taken much notice of them, how can you know what's big areola-wise?
I must admit this is all very unsettling. I can no longer be sure if I am girlfruited or ladysofted. Any suggestions as to how to overcome this dilemma would be gratefully received.
Footnote:
Titums (with one T) is defined as "a fat boy with fairly large boobs". Along similar lines, a Supertittum (with two Ts) is apparently "an agile fat man". Just saying.
I have admitted myself, both privately and publicly, that they're not THAT big in the greater scheme of things, but I certainly wouldn't describe them as small. However, as we all know, size doesn't matter anyway, does it? Or does it. To be on the safe side I checked out "boobies" in the aforementioned dictionary and it said the following:
Okay if small
Better if they protrude
Even better if they bifurcate
Best if they have also have big areola
It seems that anything goes, but that there are certain common preferences regarding form (is it actually possible to have tittums that don't bifurcate, by the way?). The trouble with the above criteria though is that no indication is given regarding what's actually acceptable in terms of size. This brings me back to my concerned correspondent who states that, "I do like a bird with a bit in the tittums department". What's "a bit"?? Is there a cup size cut-off or something? How's a bird to know? Likewise the areola: if you've not seen many, let alone taken much notice of them, how can you know what's big areola-wise?
I must admit this is all very unsettling. I can no longer be sure if I am girlfruited or ladysofted. Any suggestions as to how to overcome this dilemma would be gratefully received.
Footnote:
Titums (with one T) is defined as "a fat boy with fairly large boobs". Along similar lines, a Supertittum (with two Ts) is apparently "an agile fat man". Just saying.
01/03: A good bash
I was away for the weekend and stayed overnight in a hotel. Not a posh, expensive one, but the kind of business hotel you might stay in to lock someone's dinkle away perhaps. Anyway, as luck would have it, I found a gentleman to share my room with, which halved the cost and stopped me from getting cold. We had a bit of exercise and then slipped into a contented slumber.
However, at some unearthly hour I was woken by a banging sound. I was laying there feeling a little disorientated, trying to remember where I was and work out what the noise was; it sounded familiar but I couldn't quite place it. My room mate helped me out by saying, "They're having it away next door". I said the first thing that came into my head: "Well, it IS a Travelodge", and went back to sleep. I was very tired - it had been a long day.
The following day my gentleman room mate mentioned that the woman in the room next door had been getting it from behind. When I asked how he could be so sure (all I recall was the sound of bouncing bed springs, the headboard against the wall, a bit of moaning, oh and that it didn't seem to last all that long). He said it was because he could hear the familiar bashing sound of someone being taken roughly from behind. At least I think that's what he said - I must check as I'm wondering now if he meant bashing of balls on ladybits or the particular angle at which the headboard was striking the wall or something. Either way, I must pay more attention in future.
However, at some unearthly hour I was woken by a banging sound. I was laying there feeling a little disorientated, trying to remember where I was and work out what the noise was; it sounded familiar but I couldn't quite place it. My room mate helped me out by saying, "They're having it away next door". I said the first thing that came into my head: "Well, it IS a Travelodge", and went back to sleep. I was very tired - it had been a long day.
The following day my gentleman room mate mentioned that the woman in the room next door had been getting it from behind. When I asked how he could be so sure (all I recall was the sound of bouncing bed springs, the headboard against the wall, a bit of moaning, oh and that it didn't seem to last all that long). He said it was because he could hear the familiar bashing sound of someone being taken roughly from behind. At least I think that's what he said - I must check as I'm wondering now if he meant bashing of balls on ladybits or the particular angle at which the headboard was striking the wall or something. Either way, I must pay more attention in future.
I'm sure someone else (MarcLuterian?) used this title for a blog once.
Well today I had plans for a cultural trip and associated visit to the toilets. However, for a reason that was at least half my fault, it didn't quite come off. Instead, following a surprisingly pleasant pub lunch and a few pints of Doom Bar, I found myself on a wooded hillside just off a B road this sunny February afternoon, with my back against a tree, my jeans around my ankles, and....you can guess the rest. It was all over very quickly but, man, did I feel better for it.
One observation I would make is that the wooded experience was almost identical to the cultural toilet one in terms of intensity and excitement. Although there were fewer people around, there was still a good chance of being caught with one's trousers down and it's the illicitness, coupled with good, old-fashioned lust, that really does it for me. Two orgasms in as many minutes can't be wrong ;-).
Well today I had plans for a cultural trip and associated visit to the toilets. However, for a reason that was at least half my fault, it didn't quite come off. Instead, following a surprisingly pleasant pub lunch and a few pints of Doom Bar, I found myself on a wooded hillside just off a B road this sunny February afternoon, with my back against a tree, my jeans around my ankles, and....you can guess the rest. It was all over very quickly but, man, did I feel better for it.
One observation I would make is that the wooded experience was almost identical to the cultural toilet one in terms of intensity and excitement. Although there were fewer people around, there was still a good chance of being caught with one's trousers down and it's the illicitness, coupled with good, old-fashioned lust, that really does it for me. Two orgasms in as many minutes can't be wrong ;-).
14/02: It went off too quickly
I've been avidly following ericdb's valiant attempts to clone his penis. I still have every confidence that he'll triumph in the end, but I'm expecting it to go on for a bit longer yet. I must admit to having occasionally wondered just how hard it could be and to this end today I had the opportunity to conduct a little experiment of my own. I would admit to having already worded in my head the post I would make on ericdb's thread once I had successfully done the deed. So I turned up at a gentleman's flat this morning, having dodged the unnecessary blue and white all over the place (anyone would think they'd WON the bloody cup) and rang his bell. There was a knock on the window behind me and I was greeted by a gentleman in a dressing gown waving his willy at me.
Anyway, once inside we had a coffee and a chat and then proceeded to the kitchen where the gentleman had thoughtfully laid out the various components of a clone-a-willy kit. His kitchen, it should be noted, has a kind of giant serving hatch that enables you to see right through the living room out to the street - and for people outside to see exactly what's going on in the kitchen, which appeals to my exhibitionist tendencies.
So I told him to get his dressing gown off and, rather fortuitously, there was an erection he'd made earlier in true Blue Peter fashion. However, as I faffed around trying to get the water to the right temperature the erection began to subside a little and a CFNM embrace was called for. So there I stood, breasts poking out of my bra, knickers rather damp, being groped by a naked man whilst I stuck a thermometer into a bowl of water.
This went on for some time until the water got down to 98 degrees and we lept into action. I poured the alginate into the water and excitedly handed him the spatula and told him to mix it. While he did this I fiddled around with his penis to keep it ready for action. According to the instructions the penis needed to be thrust into the alginate mixture after a minute and a half into the procedure. Before this much time had elapsed, however, it was clear that the mixture was going hard very fast, so my gentleman friend hurriedly put his penis in, and thrusted forcibly (it was quite sexy to watch, in a comedy kind of way).
Sadly the alginate must have been too far gone before the penis went in and it was not possible to get it all the way; and it was too late to try again. So we were left with the shape of a penis cut off in its prime that would not provide a suitable mould for a lifelike replica (unless you have a preference for four inch dinkles).
Another attempt is planned for the future though. I must ask number four to share her alginate secrets with me...
Anyway, once inside we had a coffee and a chat and then proceeded to the kitchen where the gentleman had thoughtfully laid out the various components of a clone-a-willy kit. His kitchen, it should be noted, has a kind of giant serving hatch that enables you to see right through the living room out to the street - and for people outside to see exactly what's going on in the kitchen, which appeals to my exhibitionist tendencies.
So I told him to get his dressing gown off and, rather fortuitously, there was an erection he'd made earlier in true Blue Peter fashion. However, as I faffed around trying to get the water to the right temperature the erection began to subside a little and a CFNM embrace was called for. So there I stood, breasts poking out of my bra, knickers rather damp, being groped by a naked man whilst I stuck a thermometer into a bowl of water.
This went on for some time until the water got down to 98 degrees and we lept into action. I poured the alginate into the water and excitedly handed him the spatula and told him to mix it. While he did this I fiddled around with his penis to keep it ready for action. According to the instructions the penis needed to be thrust into the alginate mixture after a minute and a half into the procedure. Before this much time had elapsed, however, it was clear that the mixture was going hard very fast, so my gentleman friend hurriedly put his penis in, and thrusted forcibly (it was quite sexy to watch, in a comedy kind of way).
Sadly the alginate must have been too far gone before the penis went in and it was not possible to get it all the way; and it was too late to try again. So we were left with the shape of a penis cut off in its prime that would not provide a suitable mould for a lifelike replica (unless you have a preference for four inch dinkles).
Another attempt is planned for the future though. I must ask number four to share her alginate secrets with me...
04/02: Political Penis
Just remembered something completely unrelated to my previous blog (as far as I know). Last weekend I watched the drama about Mo Mowlam on Channel Four. There was a particular scene when Mo, played by Julie Walters, followed her colleague, Adam Ingram, into the loos at Stormont in order to continue a heated conversation they were having. While they talked he continued to relieve himself at the urinals and when Mo had had her say she looked down at his flies and said, "not bad!" before leaving the room.
So, I'm wondering if a) Adam Ingram is a well endowed MP; b) it was all relative; or c) if it was merely poetic licence.
So, I'm wondering if a) Adam Ingram is a well endowed MP; b) it was all relative; or c) if it was merely poetic licence.
04/02: Come and look at my etchings
Continuing the arty theme on the board at the moment.
I went round to a neighbour's the other day for coffee and cake. We hadn't had a proper chat for a while and it was nice to catch up. I really like my neighbour but she's quite straightlaced (and religious, for that matter) and our topics of conversation are just regular, day-to-day, tame stuff. She's a really nice person and very talented at two things I particularly envy her for: music and art. I can play merely a couple of tunes on the piano and the only drawing I can do with any semblance of competence is of the technical variety, so I tend to be in awe of anyone who can make sweet music or create anything artistic.
So, anyway, there we were, drinking coffee, nibbling cake, and chatting about a variety of topics. After a while the conversation turned to art and my neighbour asked if she could show me some of her work, which was fine by me. In fact, as I mentioned on the board earlier today, I love looking at arty stuff. There were some portraits in oil (do you say 'in oil' or 'in oils' by the way?) and some still life pieces in watercolour (or is it 'watercolours'?). I was impressed.
Then she said that her current favourite subject to paint was the female form, at which point my jaw dropped slightly, and I found myself in the somewhat surreal situation of looking at pictures of naked women with someone I would never in a million years have expected to have shared such an experience with. And they were jolly good too. My neighbour told me that she had painted a number of them at her art class and that the life models had been middle aged ladies with very good figures for their age who were very comfortable in their own skin. Which was probably just as well, I guess.
Anyway, it just goes to show, doesn't it?
I went round to a neighbour's the other day for coffee and cake. We hadn't had a proper chat for a while and it was nice to catch up. I really like my neighbour but she's quite straightlaced (and religious, for that matter) and our topics of conversation are just regular, day-to-day, tame stuff. She's a really nice person and very talented at two things I particularly envy her for: music and art. I can play merely a couple of tunes on the piano and the only drawing I can do with any semblance of competence is of the technical variety, so I tend to be in awe of anyone who can make sweet music or create anything artistic.
So, anyway, there we were, drinking coffee, nibbling cake, and chatting about a variety of topics. After a while the conversation turned to art and my neighbour asked if she could show me some of her work, which was fine by me. In fact, as I mentioned on the board earlier today, I love looking at arty stuff. There were some portraits in oil (do you say 'in oil' or 'in oils' by the way?) and some still life pieces in watercolour (or is it 'watercolours'?). I was impressed.
Then she said that her current favourite subject to paint was the female form, at which point my jaw dropped slightly, and I found myself in the somewhat surreal situation of looking at pictures of naked women with someone I would never in a million years have expected to have shared such an experience with. And they were jolly good too. My neighbour told me that she had painted a number of them at her art class and that the life models had been middle aged ladies with very good figures for their age who were very comfortable in their own skin. Which was probably just as well, I guess.
Anyway, it just goes to show, doesn't it?
Or so it says in The Big Penis Book, which I mentioned on the board that a friend gave me for Christmas. It's a very big book. Of penises. Most of which are big, although, to be fair, a handful look to be average. I say this confidently having been on this board for a while now (coming up to three years, I think) and having seen a fair few examples of the male member. In fact, I think all ladies of the Walnut Walk can safely say they are experts when it comes to penises.
Anyway, back to my book review. It is a big book predominantly consisting of pictures. Big pictures. Of men with usually big penises - and occasionally unusually big penises (the sort that hang down to their knees and probably never get hard and just get on their nerves). The book does have chapters though and an introductory piece at the beginning of each one, covering such areas as the history of penis photography, and the work of various studios and photographers, and also some of the models themselves. John Holmes, for example. Apparently his wife went into their bathroom one day to find him measuring his penis (has this ever happened to anyone here?). His explanation was that he was going to use his sizeable member to forge a career in the porn industry and, to give him his due, that's exactly what he did: 2500 loops and films to be precise. One of his co-stars once complained that she couldn't get his penis in her mouth and had to content herself with licking it. I must get it out and have another look because I didn't think it looked THAT big in the pictures. Maybe his co-star just had a very small mouth.
Anyway, an excellent coffee table book and well worth a flick through during idle moments. I rather liked the picture of the well hung guy in bondage on page 89, by the way, which leads me on to a book orak100 loaned me the other day called, 'I was a Teenage Dominatrix: A Memoir' by Shawna Kenney. orak100 lent me this for educational purposes, following my recent post on the board about possible self employment options. I have to say, it's a great, well written, funny book and quite an eye-opener at times for an innocent like me. It's very inspirational too: I found myself really liking Shawna Kenney (or Mistress Alexis, as she was known professionally) and the way she lived her life. She made the domme lifestyle seem very desirable in many ways, although there were certain aspects that grossed me out. She had her limits too, compared to some of her work colleagues, but made the way of life work for her on her terms.
The view on the board was that I was far too nice to be a dominatrix, however I reckon I could do OK. I can be quite aggressive actually, particularly at certain times of the month. Anyway, well worth a read, if you want my opinion (and even if you don't).
Mistress Dawnie
Anyway, back to my book review. It is a big book predominantly consisting of pictures. Big pictures. Of men with usually big penises - and occasionally unusually big penises (the sort that hang down to their knees and probably never get hard and just get on their nerves). The book does have chapters though and an introductory piece at the beginning of each one, covering such areas as the history of penis photography, and the work of various studios and photographers, and also some of the models themselves. John Holmes, for example. Apparently his wife went into their bathroom one day to find him measuring his penis (has this ever happened to anyone here?). His explanation was that he was going to use his sizeable member to forge a career in the porn industry and, to give him his due, that's exactly what he did: 2500 loops and films to be precise. One of his co-stars once complained that she couldn't get his penis in her mouth and had to content herself with licking it. I must get it out and have another look because I didn't think it looked THAT big in the pictures. Maybe his co-star just had a very small mouth.
Anyway, an excellent coffee table book and well worth a flick through during idle moments. I rather liked the picture of the well hung guy in bondage on page 89, by the way, which leads me on to a book orak100 loaned me the other day called, 'I was a Teenage Dominatrix: A Memoir' by Shawna Kenney. orak100 lent me this for educational purposes, following my recent post on the board about possible self employment options. I have to say, it's a great, well written, funny book and quite an eye-opener at times for an innocent like me. It's very inspirational too: I found myself really liking Shawna Kenney (or Mistress Alexis, as she was known professionally) and the way she lived her life. She made the domme lifestyle seem very desirable in many ways, although there were certain aspects that grossed me out. She had her limits too, compared to some of her work colleagues, but made the way of life work for her on her terms.
The view on the board was that I was far too nice to be a dominatrix, however I reckon I could do OK. I can be quite aggressive actually, particularly at certain times of the month. Anyway, well worth a read, if you want my opinion (and even if you don't).
Mistress Dawnie
Despite watching a bit of porn now and then (what can I do, people send it to me....) it's occurred to me that I have no idea about what's currently fashionable in terms of ladies' hair 'down below'. Obviously I've seen footage of a cunt* or two in my time but I've rarely noticed what hairstyle they were sporting. I do know that sometimes they are completely shaved, but for the most part I suppose I must subconsciously note that they're 'not overly hairy'. I would however most definitely notice if they were of the 1970s hirsuit variety.
Fortunately, I'm not too bothered myself with what's fashionable and some time ago, after a brief flirtation with baldness, I settled upon shaved below and trimmed neatly above. Those who have seen it have said it suits me. I'm a brunette, incidentally; and my collar and cuffs match.
Anyway, the other day, for no particular reason, I decided I couldn't be arsed to maintain it and, with no likelihood of showing it to anyone in the near future, I decided to leave it to its own devices for a while. This lasted for several days. I kind of noticed it start to feel a bit on the furry side when I showered but didn't give it much thought, and I didn't bother to look at it until Saturday morning.
My god!! It was quite a shock, I can tell you! And the really scary thing is, this was nowhere near as hairy as I'd have been if I had been a 1970s porn star! Aagghh!** Anyway, I've got things back under control again now, you'll be pleased to know, and I will not be letting myself go again any time soon.
*I just put that in to keep Mikki, number four and orak100 happy
** No disrespect, of course, to anyone here who sports that look or who favours it in any way; each to their own and all that
Footnote: I've a bit of a feeling that I've blogged along similar lines to this in the past but I can't be sure. Hopefully if I can't remember then nobody else will either. Specifically my regular reader.
Fortunately, I'm not too bothered myself with what's fashionable and some time ago, after a brief flirtation with baldness, I settled upon shaved below and trimmed neatly above. Those who have seen it have said it suits me. I'm a brunette, incidentally; and my collar and cuffs match.
Anyway, the other day, for no particular reason, I decided I couldn't be arsed to maintain it and, with no likelihood of showing it to anyone in the near future, I decided to leave it to its own devices for a while. This lasted for several days. I kind of noticed it start to feel a bit on the furry side when I showered but didn't give it much thought, and I didn't bother to look at it until Saturday morning.
My god!! It was quite a shock, I can tell you! And the really scary thing is, this was nowhere near as hairy as I'd have been if I had been a 1970s porn star! Aagghh!** Anyway, I've got things back under control again now, you'll be pleased to know, and I will not be letting myself go again any time soon.
*I just put that in to keep Mikki, number four and orak100 happy
** No disrespect, of course, to anyone here who sports that look or who favours it in any way; each to their own and all that
Footnote: I've a bit of a feeling that I've blogged along similar lines to this in the past but I can't be sure. Hopefully if I can't remember then nobody else will either. Specifically my regular reader.
09/01: Spread 'em
I woke up beside a bearded man this morning. But that's by the by. Last night, dear diary, I had a lot of sex. To the extent that my legs are a bit wobbly today. I won't bore you with the details (suffice it to say there were lots of positions and lots of orgasms and stuff). I will mention, however, that I got to try out the leg spreader I got for Christmas. To be honest, neither myself nor the gentleman I took along for the ride had used one of these devices before. It is therefore entirely possible that we didn't do it right, and I'm sure Mrs Townsend or theharshestgirlinthecity could advise on this. Or MarcLuterian for that matter. Either way, I found it to be an intensely enjoyable experience.
To cut a long story short, we'd had one of those frantic, clothed sessions on the sofa you sometimes have when time is short and need is high. We then went out for the evening and returned a little worse for alcohol, having successfully negotiated the icy pavements without injury. Following a bacon roll we hit the sack and had some more sex.
After the first bout (during which I was on top both forward and backward facing, in case of interest) I suggested we tried out the leg spreaders. My friend attached the leather restraints to my ankles whilst I was lying down, face up (having a little breather). I suspect there is a lot more to these devices than lying back and thinking of England. Not that I was thinking of England. I'll spare you the details again, but I would say that the feeling of being restrained and unable to really move whilst being on the receiving end of a rather energetic rogering (does anyone use that word any more?) did it for me on this occasion. I should add that for the next bout we reversed roles and he was restrained, enabling me to do with him as I pleased. I rather enjoyed that as well...
To cut a long story short, we'd had one of those frantic, clothed sessions on the sofa you sometimes have when time is short and need is high. We then went out for the evening and returned a little worse for alcohol, having successfully negotiated the icy pavements without injury. Following a bacon roll we hit the sack and had some more sex.
After the first bout (during which I was on top both forward and backward facing, in case of interest) I suggested we tried out the leg spreaders. My friend attached the leather restraints to my ankles whilst I was lying down, face up (having a little breather). I suspect there is a lot more to these devices than lying back and thinking of England. Not that I was thinking of England. I'll spare you the details again, but I would say that the feeling of being restrained and unable to really move whilst being on the receiving end of a rather energetic rogering (does anyone use that word any more?) did it for me on this occasion. I should add that for the next bout we reversed roles and he was restrained, enabling me to do with him as I pleased. I rather enjoyed that as well...
05/01: I'll show you mine
Well it's the fifth day of the new year and so far I've shown my ladybits to four people. Pretty good going by my standards.
The first person was a gentleman who kindly gave me a good rogering yesterday. He inspected them very closely and did nice things to them resulting in some very pleasant feelings. My first decent workout for some weeks and I must admit to a few muscular aches today, particularly my gluteals.
Then today two ladies had a quick look at my nether regions, whilst discussing the weather and archaeology with me, as you do. And then a man came along to join in. He had a good look at my ladybits and fiddled around with them a bit. I let him; I figured it was OK as I'd already met him briefly beforehand. I met him again briefly afterwards too but he was quite shy and, as was the case before, didn't want to look me in the eye for some reason. He seemed to think my ladybits were OK though, so that's good.
Comparatively short and sweet, and nowhere near as long as number four's, but at least I'm back in the saddle.
The first person was a gentleman who kindly gave me a good rogering yesterday. He inspected them very closely and did nice things to them resulting in some very pleasant feelings. My first decent workout for some weeks and I must admit to a few muscular aches today, particularly my gluteals.
Then today two ladies had a quick look at my nether regions, whilst discussing the weather and archaeology with me, as you do. And then a man came along to join in. He had a good look at my ladybits and fiddled around with them a bit. I let him; I figured it was OK as I'd already met him briefly beforehand. I met him again briefly afterwards too but he was quite shy and, as was the case before, didn't want to look me in the eye for some reason. He seemed to think my ladybits were OK though, so that's good.
Comparatively short and sweet, and nowhere near as long as number four's, but at least I'm back in the saddle.