Hello everyone,
So I know that for many of you this week's will be very much an anticipated post about life thus far since Mr. Cheese got home from his Greek adventures. I have even had Miss Tweedle-Dumb and Miss Tweedle-Dee emailing me their own rendition of things. Well here's hoping you wont be disappointed ...
After finishing work early I headed straight to the shops for some much needed alcohol for the impending night out with Miss Chocolate. Why did I leave work early? Because I thought I had an interview. But as per usual I had muddled it up and booked the wrong day off. It was in fact for Monday morning. Irrespective of my inaccuracy I bagged the job and am now working as a Credit Controller for a large industrial machinery company. I know what your thinking - Nine months and four jobs. But what can I say, I like the change! Heading back home to collect my things for the night out I mooched about until it was time to leave. Upon arrival to Miss Chocolate's abode I wasted no time in getting stuck into pre-drinking and talking about life in general. We discussed my upcoming birthday plans and of course my date the following day with Mr. Cheese. As we kept talking, in between taking selfies and putting on make-up, the drinks continued to be poured and before long I was well on my way to loosing all inhibitions. Soon after we left in a cab and arrived at the club in due time but not before stopping off and having a healing from a god-squader who wore very long fake nails and had a head tattoo. Straight to the bar a necked a few before dashing to the dance floor.
After a few hours and even more drinks I had thought it would be a good idea to email Mr. Cheese although the content of which I am unable to recall. Probably something about dancing and drinking far too much. Throughout this though Miss Chocolate and I have been dancing the hours away with some very dodgy characters, one of which was walking around a fairly packed nightclub with nothing less than a hard-on. Only in Luton would that be acceptable. Nevertheless our night continued. Dancing along suddenly I was approached from behind (No pun intended and anyone who knows me personally knows that this scares me greatly) and grabbed my hand. pulling me in for a hug he whispered in my ear "Follow my lead". Confused I didn't have time to think before he whirled me around the sticky, tiled floor. A space in the crowd formed and in seconds I had turned into a dancing pro; tapping my feet to the Charleston, Mamba and the Waltz. Who was this weirdo though and what did he want? Well apparently he wanted to buy me a drink. I obliged and we headed to the bar. Small talk followed and then the drinks. Not one. Not two. Not three. But four drinks. Granted two were intended for Miss Chocolate but since she didn't like the chosen beverage I adopted it to my bloodstream instead. After some sneaking around Me and Miss Chocolate scurried away from our drinks dispenser and found a quiet corner to guzzle. He found us though and wanted to tell me how rude it was to run away. I explained to him loudly how buying me a drink does not mean I am forced to spend the rest of the night with him and indeed leave with him either. He soon left me to my alcohol and wing-women.
The night progressed and as it did the more photo's and the more emails were sent, although this was not my only concern of the night. According to legend there was many a frog in the club that night and only a fair maiden such as myself (don't laugh) could cure them of such hideous facial disfigurement. Safe to say no amount of drunken kisses could make them more handsome and so in the small hours of Saturday morning Miss Chocolate and I left for our beds, but not before being followed out of the nightclub and nearly out the doors by one frog in particular obviously wanting more. Smiling and waving as I left I knew that my ego was growing out of control, but by morning came it was back to the usual uninhibited self.
Finally after spending the morning being shouted at by Miss Chocolate to get up and out of bed I left for London, Jelly Belly well in-toe. Shaved, trimmed, tidied and ready in case anything was to happen and we just couldn't continue with the day until our sexual appetite was satisfied. And so as I approached the grey, shininess of the city there he was to great me, as promised underneath the romantic Marble Arch on the edge of London's Hyde Park. Although I was twenty-odd minutes late he didn't seem to mind and we embraced and talked of our time apart. It was all planned out in my head. We would start off with a picnic by the Serpentine and then head to the Natural History Museum for a potter. Why I hear you ask? Well my dear's Mr. Cheese is very clever and studied ancient Greek history at university. Now since there wasn't a ancient Greek history museum in London that he hadn't been to I thought I would tie in his love of history and Zebra's to make it the best choice next to the Zoo which wouldn't be great if it was raining. As we walked around the green flower gardens of Hyde Park it was at this point my home-made picnic fit for a king and queen was beginning to get heavy. I suggested a pretty spot by the Thames to eat our picnic but after a heavy night of drinking my stomach still did not agree with food but even still I picked until I was satisfied I had dented the amount I brought.
The rest of the day was spent walking round the expensive shopping quarters in the west of the city stopping off at a cafe for tea and cake. I settled for fruit juice as the belly still didn't know where I was. Hours flew by and I was enjoying myself being around Mr. Cheese although it did take me most the day to pluck up the courage to hold his hand. Naaw! But before long we had dinner in front of us at a simple yet contemporary fish and chip shop in Covent Garden, somewhere a little townie such as my self had never been to before. As the twilight crept in we continued our city tour in under the cover of darkness and the London lights, stopping off at Trafalgar Square, seeing Big Ben, and the Eye, Piccadilly Circus and Nelson's Column. The only thing we missed out on my trip to the capital was Buckingham Palace - But seriously who can complain when you have a cute guy kissing you sweetly beneath the twinkling and bustling action of London Town?
I know what you are all wondering now though. Where did it go? Well I am never one to kiss and tell (at least not yet anyway) although I shall tell you that after an excuse of a nice cuppa we did in fact end up back at Mr. Cheese's very, very nice flat in West London. Surprisingly though, for a male in his early twenties there are no naked girls plastered on his bedroom walls, only innocent photo's of friends and family. Oh and flags. I think he is a bit obsessed with flags?! Hmmm. But yes I digress. After tea we talked and gradually things started to simmer and whilst the pot didn't boil over as expected or anticipated it was a nice and lovely. Maybe Mr. Cheese has left room for the pot to explode next time we meet which will be this weekend? Oh I do hope so! More than half a year without some hard, hot action and I am in need of a good session that will leave me exhausted and content not disappointed and flat like last time.
I woke up at 5am on Sunday morning feeling awful and knowing that I couldn't be sick in Mr. Cheese's lovely home I planned on leaving early. Sitting on the edge of the bed and watching him whilst he snoozed (I'm not weird OK everyone does that ... Right?!) I realised that maybe we had made a huge mistake letting things get this far. Was it too soon? Is this the best thing to do? Where do we even go from now? Is this it? To be honest I don't think that really helped my Jelly Belly situation and instantaneously I felt a wave of sickness from the realisation of what had happened the previous night and the serious questions that followed. Mr. Cheese soon woke though and made me melt when he simply rolled over and kissed me on the forehead before asking if I was hungry or wanted tea. Maybe this was it after all? I declined Mr. Cheese's offer and explained I would be leaving soon, although that soon changed when I decided his chest wig and cute tee-pee moob's was much more comfy than the long train journey home. I finally left just after lunch time, although a quick exit was induced as Mr Cheese's flat mate got back from her own escapades just minutes after finishing round three.
All in all though a wonderful weekend of naked cuddles, tender kisses and whispered sweet nothings all topped off with enough pillow talk to smother an elephant. However the questions still prevail; Was it too soon? Is this it? Where do we go from now? All these things. All happening at once. Finally maybe my luck is changing and it seems as I look up theoretically the sun is out and there is not a cloud in the sky ...
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Showing posts with label Liaisons. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Liaisons. Show all posts
Tuesday, 10 September 2013
Tuesday, 9 April 2013
A Story I Have Wanted To Shared For A While ...
Hi Guys,
What a week it has been. So, after last weekend Bank Holiday antics I have recovered quiet nicely thank you, although the fact that my ex-boyfriend otherwise known as Mr. Workaholic keeps plaguing my thoughts. I mean seriously. GET OUT OF MY HEAD! I suppose it all started with a weird dream I had about a week ago including him and Miss Tweedle-Dee, but strangely no Miss Tweedle-Dumb. Unable to wake from such nightmarish slumber I was forced to relive the last scenes of our relationship in dream-state, full-blown hysterics included. But since then Mr. Workaholic seems not to have left and is there in my mind, constantly reminding me of the good times. I'm glad my conscience takes over and reminds me of the bad times though. But amongst the raging battle inside my head I try to reason with myself. Yes Mr. Workaholic was a brilliant lover, the best maybe, indulging in all manner of fantasy and wild exploits - but you have to remember that this was also the same person that left you screaming and begging in absolute turmoil as he drove away, leaving you in the home you used to share. Upon this boiling pot of emotion and memories I am able to pluck out a good tale for you all. Now I warn you it is a tad odd, especially for a man just out of a long-term relationship, but rest assured it is truth and is something I would like to share with you all, something I have wanted to pollute your minds with for a while ...
It was a warm summer morning when I stepped off the plane from Dublin after visiting family in Southern Ireland following the split. I had a lot of time to think it out and come to the conclusion that this was it. Since everyone I knew was working I had no-one to pick me up from the airport and take me home. All but one. I had no choice but to call Mr. Workaholic and ask him to help. Of course he obliged and picked me up, probably out of guilt that he had caused this all but regardless when I saw his girlie white car pull up to where I was standing outside the terminal I couldn't help but think that things might just go back to normal and we could make it work. After what I was about to hear nothing could be further from that statement. I attempted making small talk and avoiding eye contact with him for a good few miles down the motorway until Mr. Workaholic asked how my trip had been. I replied honestly and described it as one of the worst experiences of my life, working out how I was going to function without him. I was courteous though and returned the question, feeling anxious and not wanting to talk about myself for once. Starting normally, Mr. Workaholic stated that he had gone away for a few days to clear his head and visit his sister in the North-East of England. Watching the world whizz by on the M1 and struggling not to throw up in his presence, Mr. Workaholic told me he had gone out and had a few too many drinks. But my heart nearly stopped when he told me that he had hooked-up with someone. As Mr. Workaholic began the gut-wrenching tale I felt myself crumble inside, the car spinning and my head once clear now drowning, flooded with pictures and thoughts. He asked me if he should continue or if I needed fresh air. Stupidly or not I decided that I needed to hear this and that it would do me good, maybe even help me to move on. And so he resumed.
After some heavy pre-drinking at their hotel to lift Mr. Workaholic's mood (As if his mood needed lifting any further up his arse), his sister and their cousin went to a club and were continuing to drink when a young man came over and struck up a friendly conversation. As the night wore on, Mr. Workaholic needed the loo and so left in search of the 'little boys room'. Once there he relived himself and turned to leave, however, so intoxicated was my Ex that he was approached by another male whom started sizing him up. Now for any normal person you would think this wasn't unusual - You know, two men squaring up in the bathroom alcohol, women, ego's and possibly drugs involved it could get messy. But oh-no, this wasn't any old bathroom. This was a bathroom situated in a busy part of the city centres Soho district. A place where Mr. Workaholic wouldn't usually attend. His sister and cousin are both Homosexual's and Mr. Workaholic was in a bathroom of a very busy and well-known gay nightclub. Swaying from side to side, Mr. Workaholic was offered oral sex by the stranger he had bumped into. Mr. Workaholic accepted. The strange man got onto his knees, unzipped my Ex's jeans and placed him into his mouth.
As we flew past a service station Mr. Workaholic recoils as he remembers how the stranger's bristly beard brushed his private parts whilst his member continued to stay soft. "Your not getting hard, are you not turned on?" the knelt man asked looking up holding the still limp extension. Not saying a word Mr. Workaholic adjusted himself and walked away, leaving his dignity and his self-respect behind. A few hours later after kissing a few women, and men, Mr. Workaholic was drinking at an empty table whilst his sister and their cousin hit the dance floor. Another young man approached the lone Mr. Workaholic and asked if they could be friends. Being naive he befriended the party goer and before long more alcohol was consumed and a seedy friendship formed. By this point apparently a fight had broken out between his cousin, his sister, his sister's girlfriend and her girlfriend's ex-partner back at the hotel. Shattered, Mr. Workaholic took the invitation from his new found 'friend' to spend the night before heading back to the hotel in the morning when everything had calmed down. And so as the sun rose over Northumberland, Mr. Workaholic left, to a flat in a part of the city he didn't know, with a man he had only just met. Classy. Upon arriving at his 'friends' address, my Ex was encouraged to undress and share his bed. Consumed by fatigue and intoxicated as he was it happened and before long Mr. Workaholic was fast asleep.
Pulling off the motorway I was hoping that one day, Mr. Workaholic would get a rude awakening for the way he treated me. Little did I know that the story was not yet finished. Moments after slipping into a deep sleep, Mr. Workaholic was roused in a way many females are accustom too. Only this was a man. A 'friend'. And this 'friend' was now poking Mr. Workaholic in the lower back with something hard and moist. Realising what this was, my Ex, not being freaked out or disgusted at all simply rolled over and said to his 'friend' that he was not gay and did not want to have sex with him. Reluctantly the 'friend' stopped pursuing Mr. Workaholic and shortly they were both asleep again like nothing ever happened. But it wasn't long before long though that there was a loud knock on the door of the apartment, although no-one heard until it was too late. Suddenly the bedroom door flew open, and with this Mr. Workaholic jumped out of bed, struggling to comprehend what had just happened. "What the fuck are you doing in bed with my boyfriend!" Shouted the large, muscular man fizzing with anger at the rumpled sheets and a nearly naked man accompanying his partner in bed. The frightened boy that was the love of my life ran to the bathroom and locked the door. As Mr. Workaholic's hangover crept in, he searched the bathroom for a way out, but all in vain. Spotting some cash on the sink and grabbing his clothes Mr. Workaholic made a dash for the door, using the stolen cash to pay for a cab back to the hotel.
As we arrived at the beautiful terraced house we used to share he asked how I was. What could I say? For once I was speechless, only able to mutter something about how disgusted I was and how sick he makes me feel. For some odd moment I started to laugh. Almost uncontrollably. Crying tears of amusement, grief and shame. Pulling myself together I got out of the car, only to see a large green and yellow 'TO LET' sign next to our once happy home. I stood there. Shocked. "Why didn't you tell me?" I asked quietly. "I didn't want to upset you." was the pitiful response from Mr. Workaholic. Unlocking the door and walking into the house I barely recognised it. Mr. Workaholic continued to explain that his cousin whose girlfriend was pregnant at the time was moving into a new home and needed some stuff so he had sold it to him. Our sofa, stuffed with memories watching TV, making love and cuddling. Our side-dresser that Mr. Workaholic's mother had given us as a moving in gift that I loved and he loathed. Gone. Upstairs our beautiful iron-posted bed had disappeared, the very bed we first slept together in and the one where our story together began. Our second, smaller bed in the spare-room was also amiss, as was the dining table and chairs. Our whole lives were just gone. No warning. No preparation. Just gone. After dropping my luggage indoors I begged him to stay and not leave me alone in the house for fear of my 'dark-cloud' returning. He didn't. He left. Mr. Workaholic just kissed me on the head (inappropriate as it was) and left.
That night was my lowest, but I am proud to say that the 'dark-cloud' has left now, and gladly has not been back since. I am in a much better place, with friends and family around me. I have come a long way from the girl crawled up in a ball reading and watching television as an escape from a reality she wasn't ready to face. I am stronger now. Stronger than never before. But one day he'll realise, yes, Mr. Workaholic will realise that I was the best thing he ever had ...
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
What a week it has been. So, after last weekend Bank Holiday antics I have recovered quiet nicely thank you, although the fact that my ex-boyfriend otherwise known as Mr. Workaholic keeps plaguing my thoughts. I mean seriously. GET OUT OF MY HEAD! I suppose it all started with a weird dream I had about a week ago including him and Miss Tweedle-Dee, but strangely no Miss Tweedle-Dumb. Unable to wake from such nightmarish slumber I was forced to relive the last scenes of our relationship in dream-state, full-blown hysterics included. But since then Mr. Workaholic seems not to have left and is there in my mind, constantly reminding me of the good times. I'm glad my conscience takes over and reminds me of the bad times though. But amongst the raging battle inside my head I try to reason with myself. Yes Mr. Workaholic was a brilliant lover, the best maybe, indulging in all manner of fantasy and wild exploits - but you have to remember that this was also the same person that left you screaming and begging in absolute turmoil as he drove away, leaving you in the home you used to share. Upon this boiling pot of emotion and memories I am able to pluck out a good tale for you all. Now I warn you it is a tad odd, especially for a man just out of a long-term relationship, but rest assured it is truth and is something I would like to share with you all, something I have wanted to pollute your minds with for a while ...
It was a warm summer morning when I stepped off the plane from Dublin after visiting family in Southern Ireland following the split. I had a lot of time to think it out and come to the conclusion that this was it. Since everyone I knew was working I had no-one to pick me up from the airport and take me home. All but one. I had no choice but to call Mr. Workaholic and ask him to help. Of course he obliged and picked me up, probably out of guilt that he had caused this all but regardless when I saw his girlie white car pull up to where I was standing outside the terminal I couldn't help but think that things might just go back to normal and we could make it work. After what I was about to hear nothing could be further from that statement. I attempted making small talk and avoiding eye contact with him for a good few miles down the motorway until Mr. Workaholic asked how my trip had been. I replied honestly and described it as one of the worst experiences of my life, working out how I was going to function without him. I was courteous though and returned the question, feeling anxious and not wanting to talk about myself for once. Starting normally, Mr. Workaholic stated that he had gone away for a few days to clear his head and visit his sister in the North-East of England. Watching the world whizz by on the M1 and struggling not to throw up in his presence, Mr. Workaholic told me he had gone out and had a few too many drinks. But my heart nearly stopped when he told me that he had hooked-up with someone. As Mr. Workaholic began the gut-wrenching tale I felt myself crumble inside, the car spinning and my head once clear now drowning, flooded with pictures and thoughts. He asked me if he should continue or if I needed fresh air. Stupidly or not I decided that I needed to hear this and that it would do me good, maybe even help me to move on. And so he resumed.
After some heavy pre-drinking at their hotel to lift Mr. Workaholic's mood (As if his mood needed lifting any further up his arse), his sister and their cousin went to a club and were continuing to drink when a young man came over and struck up a friendly conversation. As the night wore on, Mr. Workaholic needed the loo and so left in search of the 'little boys room'. Once there he relived himself and turned to leave, however, so intoxicated was my Ex that he was approached by another male whom started sizing him up. Now for any normal person you would think this wasn't unusual - You know, two men squaring up in the bathroom alcohol, women, ego's and possibly drugs involved it could get messy. But oh-no, this wasn't any old bathroom. This was a bathroom situated in a busy part of the city centres Soho district. A place where Mr. Workaholic wouldn't usually attend. His sister and cousin are both Homosexual's and Mr. Workaholic was in a bathroom of a very busy and well-known gay nightclub. Swaying from side to side, Mr. Workaholic was offered oral sex by the stranger he had bumped into. Mr. Workaholic accepted. The strange man got onto his knees, unzipped my Ex's jeans and placed him into his mouth.
As we flew past a service station Mr. Workaholic recoils as he remembers how the stranger's bristly beard brushed his private parts whilst his member continued to stay soft. "Your not getting hard, are you not turned on?" the knelt man asked looking up holding the still limp extension. Not saying a word Mr. Workaholic adjusted himself and walked away, leaving his dignity and his self-respect behind. A few hours later after kissing a few women, and men, Mr. Workaholic was drinking at an empty table whilst his sister and their cousin hit the dance floor. Another young man approached the lone Mr. Workaholic and asked if they could be friends. Being naive he befriended the party goer and before long more alcohol was consumed and a seedy friendship formed. By this point apparently a fight had broken out between his cousin, his sister, his sister's girlfriend and her girlfriend's ex-partner back at the hotel. Shattered, Mr. Workaholic took the invitation from his new found 'friend' to spend the night before heading back to the hotel in the morning when everything had calmed down. And so as the sun rose over Northumberland, Mr. Workaholic left, to a flat in a part of the city he didn't know, with a man he had only just met. Classy. Upon arriving at his 'friends' address, my Ex was encouraged to undress and share his bed. Consumed by fatigue and intoxicated as he was it happened and before long Mr. Workaholic was fast asleep.
Pulling off the motorway I was hoping that one day, Mr. Workaholic would get a rude awakening for the way he treated me. Little did I know that the story was not yet finished. Moments after slipping into a deep sleep, Mr. Workaholic was roused in a way many females are accustom too. Only this was a man. A 'friend'. And this 'friend' was now poking Mr. Workaholic in the lower back with something hard and moist. Realising what this was, my Ex, not being freaked out or disgusted at all simply rolled over and said to his 'friend' that he was not gay and did not want to have sex with him. Reluctantly the 'friend' stopped pursuing Mr. Workaholic and shortly they were both asleep again like nothing ever happened. But it wasn't long before long though that there was a loud knock on the door of the apartment, although no-one heard until it was too late. Suddenly the bedroom door flew open, and with this Mr. Workaholic jumped out of bed, struggling to comprehend what had just happened. "What the fuck are you doing in bed with my boyfriend!" Shouted the large, muscular man fizzing with anger at the rumpled sheets and a nearly naked man accompanying his partner in bed. The frightened boy that was the love of my life ran to the bathroom and locked the door. As Mr. Workaholic's hangover crept in, he searched the bathroom for a way out, but all in vain. Spotting some cash on the sink and grabbing his clothes Mr. Workaholic made a dash for the door, using the stolen cash to pay for a cab back to the hotel.
As we arrived at the beautiful terraced house we used to share he asked how I was. What could I say? For once I was speechless, only able to mutter something about how disgusted I was and how sick he makes me feel. For some odd moment I started to laugh. Almost uncontrollably. Crying tears of amusement, grief and shame. Pulling myself together I got out of the car, only to see a large green and yellow 'TO LET' sign next to our once happy home. I stood there. Shocked. "Why didn't you tell me?" I asked quietly. "I didn't want to upset you." was the pitiful response from Mr. Workaholic. Unlocking the door and walking into the house I barely recognised it. Mr. Workaholic continued to explain that his cousin whose girlfriend was pregnant at the time was moving into a new home and needed some stuff so he had sold it to him. Our sofa, stuffed with memories watching TV, making love and cuddling. Our side-dresser that Mr. Workaholic's mother had given us as a moving in gift that I loved and he loathed. Gone. Upstairs our beautiful iron-posted bed had disappeared, the very bed we first slept together in and the one where our story together began. Our second, smaller bed in the spare-room was also amiss, as was the dining table and chairs. Our whole lives were just gone. No warning. No preparation. Just gone. After dropping my luggage indoors I begged him to stay and not leave me alone in the house for fear of my 'dark-cloud' returning. He didn't. He left. Mr. Workaholic just kissed me on the head (inappropriate as it was) and left.
That night was my lowest, but I am proud to say that the 'dark-cloud' has left now, and gladly has not been back since. I am in a much better place, with friends and family around me. I have come a long way from the girl crawled up in a ball reading and watching television as an escape from a reality she wasn't ready to face. I am stronger now. Stronger than never before. But one day he'll realise, yes, Mr. Workaholic will realise that I was the best thing he ever had ...
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Tuesday, 26 March 2013
A Lucky Escape ...
Evening,
Well, what a week this has been. Here in the UK we have been experiencing some extreme weather conditions, of which have blown of several of my plans! I am very angry at this. It seems that us Brits can't seem to deal with a few drops of the white stuff - I'm on about snow; Filthy!. I mean a single helping of it is enough to bring this country to its knees - OK, now I am playing with you.
So this weekend was meant to be mine and Miss Chocolate's romantic mini break away to North-Wales-ish. Wrong. The snow had better plans. And so all our plans for a naked skinny-dipping spa, eating fast food in the bathroom and heading to the shops just to buy an outfit that we would return after our rowdy night out have now all gone to shit because of the bad weather up North. Granted, we have changed the dates, but I don't know whether I can get the day off from work and this is causing some ruffled feathers in the love nest of Miss Chocolat a la Moi. Regardless I am sure that we will be the best of friends soon as we have an impending weekend of havoc to create as the bunny ears are out and we are ready to party like its Easter 2013! I also have an 80's V 90's night to attend with Miss Chocolate, Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dee and some other well known faces. So this weekend should be a blast if the bloody snow holds off. It'll give me something interesting to tell of next week.
And after last weeks drama surrounding Mr. Coffee I am glad to say that this chapter is now closed and I shall no longer be obsessing, fantasising or thinking of the so-called 'rocker', although I use that term very loosely. In a desperate attempt to gain his attention I did attempt to text Mr. Coffee several times throughout the week, even a phone-call or two, inviting him over for dinner and drinks, but all to no avail. So after logging into Facebook and seeing that he was online I struck up a conversation knowing that he wouldn't be in a talkative mood. Pop! Suddenly to my surprise Mr. Coffee answered back and we started small talk. I asked how college was and he said he was enjoying it especially since there were drama's erupting and romances blossoming. This got me thinking. "Does that mean that your trying to pursue someone then?" I typed, cautious of what the answer might be. He replied with Maybe. I sat there, stunned. A small part of me thought 'Knock, Knock, Oh Hey! You know it might be you that he's talking about?' Knowing that this wasn't the case but still hoping that it was I asked another question, "Was that the case last week?" but silence soon followed. I asked again and this time Mr. Coffee replied. "Sort of - Its complicated, but she wasn't there no" was the weak response that he attempted to fool me with. I hesitated to believe him. Then a surge of energy as the ice melted his hands and they flowed freely across his keyboard telling me how I somehow put him on the spot last week. Not True. And how its all really complicated right now. Calm and collected I started my own scat along my laptop keypad. How dare he! "Whats going on between us?" I asked burning up with a simmering mixture of embarrassment and anger. Again more silence. Again I asked. "I don't think there is anything between us, dude. I just don't think we're right for each other." - Quote and verbatim. I mean who says 'dude' now-days anyway. I'm sorry I didn't realise you were Axel Rose? Humiliation swallowed me up making me feel like a fool in the way of relationships yet again. But at least I know - I'm glad that it took more than eight weeks to get sorted! Seems like it may be a blessing in disguise as the self-proclaimed womaniser moves onto his next piece of meat. *High-Pitch-Gay-Man-Voice* "Uhh, yeah I'm not a Hump-'em-and-dump-'em kinda guy". Yeah ... Much!
Mr. Mot has also made several appearances this week, lending his ear and sharing life as well as yet again asking me to spend some 'quality' time with him. The latest one, is me nursing him back to health and tending to his every need. Every. Need. But as it would happen I don't have any qualifications to nurse anyone back to health and impersonating a figure of authority within the public sector is an arresting offence. Even so I am sure Mr. Mot wouldn't say not to handcuffing me and having his wicked way with a naughty convict.
So here's hoping the weather holds out for me this weekend and stays nice so I can get my claws into a new obsession! Out on the prowl again ...
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Well, what a week this has been. Here in the UK we have been experiencing some extreme weather conditions, of which have blown of several of my plans! I am very angry at this. It seems that us Brits can't seem to deal with a few drops of the white stuff - I'm on about snow; Filthy!. I mean a single helping of it is enough to bring this country to its knees - OK, now I am playing with you.
So this weekend was meant to be mine and Miss Chocolate's romantic mini break away to North-Wales-ish. Wrong. The snow had better plans. And so all our plans for a naked skinny-dipping spa, eating fast food in the bathroom and heading to the shops just to buy an outfit that we would return after our rowdy night out have now all gone to shit because of the bad weather up North. Granted, we have changed the dates, but I don't know whether I can get the day off from work and this is causing some ruffled feathers in the love nest of Miss Chocolat a la Moi. Regardless I am sure that we will be the best of friends soon as we have an impending weekend of havoc to create as the bunny ears are out and we are ready to party like its Easter 2013! I also have an 80's V 90's night to attend with Miss Chocolate, Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dee and some other well known faces. So this weekend should be a blast if the bloody snow holds off. It'll give me something interesting to tell of next week.
And after last weeks drama surrounding Mr. Coffee I am glad to say that this chapter is now closed and I shall no longer be obsessing, fantasising or thinking of the so-called 'rocker', although I use that term very loosely. In a desperate attempt to gain his attention I did attempt to text Mr. Coffee several times throughout the week, even a phone-call or two, inviting him over for dinner and drinks, but all to no avail. So after logging into Facebook and seeing that he was online I struck up a conversation knowing that he wouldn't be in a talkative mood. Pop! Suddenly to my surprise Mr. Coffee answered back and we started small talk. I asked how college was and he said he was enjoying it especially since there were drama's erupting and romances blossoming. This got me thinking. "Does that mean that your trying to pursue someone then?" I typed, cautious of what the answer might be. He replied with Maybe. I sat there, stunned. A small part of me thought 'Knock, Knock, Oh Hey! You know it might be you that he's talking about?' Knowing that this wasn't the case but still hoping that it was I asked another question, "Was that the case last week?" but silence soon followed. I asked again and this time Mr. Coffee replied. "Sort of - Its complicated, but she wasn't there no" was the weak response that he attempted to fool me with. I hesitated to believe him. Then a surge of energy as the ice melted his hands and they flowed freely across his keyboard telling me how I somehow put him on the spot last week. Not True. And how its all really complicated right now. Calm and collected I started my own scat along my laptop keypad. How dare he! "Whats going on between us?" I asked burning up with a simmering mixture of embarrassment and anger. Again more silence. Again I asked. "I don't think there is anything between us, dude. I just don't think we're right for each other." - Quote and verbatim. I mean who says 'dude' now-days anyway. I'm sorry I didn't realise you were Axel Rose? Humiliation swallowed me up making me feel like a fool in the way of relationships yet again. But at least I know - I'm glad that it took more than eight weeks to get sorted! Seems like it may be a blessing in disguise as the self-proclaimed womaniser moves onto his next piece of meat. *High-Pitch-Gay-Man-Voice* "Uhh, yeah I'm not a Hump-'em-and-dump-'em kinda guy". Yeah ... Much!
Mr. Mot has also made several appearances this week, lending his ear and sharing life as well as yet again asking me to spend some 'quality' time with him. The latest one, is me nursing him back to health and tending to his every need. Every. Need. But as it would happen I don't have any qualifications to nurse anyone back to health and impersonating a figure of authority within the public sector is an arresting offence. Even so I am sure Mr. Mot wouldn't say not to handcuffing me and having his wicked way with a naughty convict.
So here's hoping the weather holds out for me this weekend and stays nice so I can get my claws into a new obsession! Out on the prowl again ...
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Tuesday, 12 March 2013
A Shock, An Invitation And Compulsory Meeting
Heyy,
So after last weeks interesting episode, I have encountered a shock announcement, a few revelations and an invitation which ultimately brings with it a predicament! Now would you really expect anything different from me readers? I understand that you also felt that last weeks instalment was a tad long and for this a apologise, but hopefully it was worth it in the end. Ill try and keep this one short and sweet.
After finishing a uneventful day at work I decided to call my personal 'Agony Uncle', AKA Mr. Mot. I had not spoken to him in a while and thought that it would be a good idea to have a chat on my usual commute home. We talked endlessly about the weather, jobs and what we were doing that week. Mr. Mot and I also discussed his girlfriend and the progress of their melodramatic relationship and yet again the 'Proposal' was brought about. Again I refused but something inside of me willed me to give in to temptation. I didn't. Further down the conversation we were discussing how Mr. Mot was attending a concert in London over the coming weekend and that his girlfriend was unable to attend. I asked as to why she wasn't making the event, expecting the reason to be something trivial like work commitments or family life. No. "Are you really that stupid?" Mr. Mot asked me. I had no idea what he was on about. Has he told me something and in my old age I have forgotten? Am I going mad? You see, up until this point Mr. Mot had failed to tell me a formidable bombshell that I was stunned to learn about as this had been the case for some weeks now. Mr. Mot had thought he had already told me that his girlfriend was now several weeks pregnant carrying his unborn child. I mean at this point in time it is really only a foetus, a small ball of cells that multiply every so often to gradually transform into a little person. I have known Mr. Mot for several years now and this was a very big shock indeed, not to mention that this added strain has made him question their entire relationship and its future.
Although it did get me wondering about my fate and weather I would be able to have children one day. Obviously not with Mr. Mot, however we have said that if we are still single by our mid-thirties then we shall elope, saving each other from a one way ticket to loserville where lonely single people own several cats and gradually deflate with age until the impending doom of death arrives. Its not like we wouldn't make beautiful children. Blue eyes and blonde hair - it would be like raising a little family that even Hitler would be proud of. But having a baby with someone you love and want to be is equally important when bringing up a child, I think. Honestly though, after hearing from the horses mouth what my ex got up to after we separated was something that brings me joy to this day. But that's a story for another day. What I am trying to say is that I was sure that I wanted all of that with someone and now that its gone, I'm not sure that I will get the opportunity again. Well, until is Mr. Mot and I start the deflation process.
Speaking of the ex, I will be having an encounter this week. I will have to stomach Mr. Workaholic's overbearing ego and poncy manor for a few hours whilst we finalise some financial paperwork that has not been sorted out for nearly a year. His excuse? "I have been busy". Well, unless a porn website has recruited Mr. Workaholic as new member, part of there climax-tester wank panel I doubt you have been very busy. Either that or you have found a new chess buddy *Snorts and snigger's loudly*. I am not looking forward to the meeting however it will be that last I shall have to ever encounter him. Mind you, I said that the last few times I have blessed with Mr Workaholic's presence. Also this week after an interesting invitation from a mutual friend of me and a another, whose name I shall not mention as they may be reading, I may be attending an event with Miss Chocolate. I shall not reveal any more information as I don't want to spoil the fun I may have, but will defiantly update you all on how it goes. As it is St. Patrick's day this coming weekend in the UK, Miss Chocolate and I will be celebrating in true Irish style, although she does not know this yet.
Anyway I think I deserve a nice hot bubble bath. Time to wash away my sins and all that filth of the day.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
So after last weeks interesting episode, I have encountered a shock announcement, a few revelations and an invitation which ultimately brings with it a predicament! Now would you really expect anything different from me readers? I understand that you also felt that last weeks instalment was a tad long and for this a apologise, but hopefully it was worth it in the end. Ill try and keep this one short and sweet.
After finishing a uneventful day at work I decided to call my personal 'Agony Uncle', AKA Mr. Mot. I had not spoken to him in a while and thought that it would be a good idea to have a chat on my usual commute home. We talked endlessly about the weather, jobs and what we were doing that week. Mr. Mot and I also discussed his girlfriend and the progress of their melodramatic relationship and yet again the 'Proposal' was brought about. Again I refused but something inside of me willed me to give in to temptation. I didn't. Further down the conversation we were discussing how Mr. Mot was attending a concert in London over the coming weekend and that his girlfriend was unable to attend. I asked as to why she wasn't making the event, expecting the reason to be something trivial like work commitments or family life. No. "Are you really that stupid?" Mr. Mot asked me. I had no idea what he was on about. Has he told me something and in my old age I have forgotten? Am I going mad? You see, up until this point Mr. Mot had failed to tell me a formidable bombshell that I was stunned to learn about as this had been the case for some weeks now. Mr. Mot had thought he had already told me that his girlfriend was now several weeks pregnant carrying his unborn child. I mean at this point in time it is really only a foetus, a small ball of cells that multiply every so often to gradually transform into a little person. I have known Mr. Mot for several years now and this was a very big shock indeed, not to mention that this added strain has made him question their entire relationship and its future.
Although it did get me wondering about my fate and weather I would be able to have children one day. Obviously not with Mr. Mot, however we have said that if we are still single by our mid-thirties then we shall elope, saving each other from a one way ticket to loserville where lonely single people own several cats and gradually deflate with age until the impending doom of death arrives. Its not like we wouldn't make beautiful children. Blue eyes and blonde hair - it would be like raising a little family that even Hitler would be proud of. But having a baby with someone you love and want to be is equally important when bringing up a child, I think. Honestly though, after hearing from the horses mouth what my ex got up to after we separated was something that brings me joy to this day. But that's a story for another day. What I am trying to say is that I was sure that I wanted all of that with someone and now that its gone, I'm not sure that I will get the opportunity again. Well, until is Mr. Mot and I start the deflation process.
Speaking of the ex, I will be having an encounter this week. I will have to stomach Mr. Workaholic's overbearing ego and poncy manor for a few hours whilst we finalise some financial paperwork that has not been sorted out for nearly a year. His excuse? "I have been busy". Well, unless a porn website has recruited Mr. Workaholic as new member, part of there climax-tester wank panel I doubt you have been very busy. Either that or you have found a new chess buddy *Snorts and snigger's loudly*. I am not looking forward to the meeting however it will be that last I shall have to ever encounter him. Mind you, I said that the last few times I have blessed with Mr Workaholic's presence. Also this week after an interesting invitation from a mutual friend of me and a another, whose name I shall not mention as they may be reading, I may be attending an event with Miss Chocolate. I shall not reveal any more information as I don't want to spoil the fun I may have, but will defiantly update you all on how it goes. As it is St. Patrick's day this coming weekend in the UK, Miss Chocolate and I will be celebrating in true Irish style, although she does not know this yet.
Anyway I think I deserve a nice hot bubble bath. Time to wash away my sins and all that filth of the day.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Tuesday, 5 March 2013
A Dog's Life ...
Evening all,
So after my girlie weekend away I have come back relaxed and refreshed. It hasn't been without its spills though. nearly becoming human ice-cubes waiting for a cab after going to the theatre, arguments over who stank out the bathroom last and living off of pizza and fizzy drinks for an entire weekend are all highlights, not to mention the fact that I we all played truth or dare for many hours whilst getting unsuccessfully drunk. However this weekend has been much of an eye-opener to me, although Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb shall never know. Being away from my home area made me realise how secretly lonely I am. I mean I'm not going to be investing in a cat any time soon ... I'm not that lonely, but It did make me think about my relationship status and even more so about putting myself up on the shelf again. Thing is though, its a high shelf and a log way to fall if it all goes wrong again. That and how ca I guarantee that I wont just be left there? I know I'm only young at 21 but I found myself straying from the girls, wondering round the baby section of an expensive department store; cooing and touching all the toys and blankets, clothes and furnishings for a child's nursery. A familiar feeling returned to me that reminded me that, whilst on contraception and not wanting to start a family until I had a marriage and stability, my biological clock was ticking by. I tried to bring up the subject as Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I traipsed around. Strangely it was Miss Tweedle-Dee who sympathised and expressed the same concern, whereas Miss Tweedle-Dumb who is settled and in a steady relationship is not so worried. It truly terrifies me that I shall get to an age where I have nothing to show for my time on this planet, not a marriage, career or child in site. Just me. Alone. I am praying that this is never the case.
On a lighter note, the girls and I all made a trip to a well-know 'adult' high street store and whilst a very British me just blushed and stood around looking embarrassed and out of place, Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb decided to invest in a 'life-enhancing personal device'. After much negotiation and begging they gave in with trying to convince me to buy one and themselves went up to the counter and completed their seedy purchases separately. I on the other hand, within minutes of getting home on the Sunday evening was online looking at things that vibrate, swivel, pulse, gyrate, bend and twist. Its ordered for delivery tomorrow. At work. I hope its not too obvious. Could be quite awkward explaining away a buzzing box to the boss? Its not that I'm frigid or non-sexual, Its just that I'm indifferent to it. If you offered me sex with the right person (and from previous experience the wrong ones too) I would gladly oblige. But somehow self-exploration is way down on my to do list of a night. I would much rather eat unhealthy snacks and watch telly wrapped up in bed, thank-you. Funnily enough I was discussing this with Mr. Mot last week. He had asked why I didn't 'indulge' and I responded in the only way I know how - I giggled and brushed it off. But there is no getting around Mr. Mot, oh-no; so I gave in and spilled. "Why should I bother trying to do it myself and get no-where when I can just find someone who can do it much better than I can and produce better results?" At this point I had rather pissed on Mr. Mot's bonfire as I think he was hoping that the conversation would progress in its usual late-night manner. I tried to explain that ever since I was sexually curious there had always been someone around to lend a hand as it were. They came and they went but my most constant and regular entertainer was a big secret to all who knew me in school.
Mr. Woof liked the oddest of things, hence the naming here. We have been friends since meeting in the second year of High School and pretty much as soon as we met our liaisons began. In school, Mr. Woof was quite shy when it came to being in 'public' as it were but behind a few closed corridor doors and next to my green locker he was a demanding animal that like to rule and be ruled. Mr. Woof had a fondness for his own nipples being pleasured and enjoyed me playing with them very much. Several times we nearly got caught in the act, and I am sure that on many occasions my tutor knew something odd was happening outside her classroom - I mean, who spends nearly three hour-long lunchtimes a week standing by a locker "hugging" a friend. As we got older the intensity was stepped up. Math class was shared sitting next to each other whilst Mr. Woof's hands wandered over my school skirt and I talked to him about the work in a low, sensual voice. During a Saturday morning revision class Mr. Woof and I met early and went into one of the new recently built toilets. There we experimented with soft foreplay, biting, sucking, scratching. The fact that I was wearing glasses and had purposely worn red lipstick was something of a turn on for him, even now. I knew what I was doing, any sixteen year old does. It was fun and I enjoyed the secrecy of it all. The little affair with the boy who I had a crush on for ages and who was dating one of my closest school friends. Of course all secrets come out eventually and after that everything was on hold for a while until it quietened down again. But I had lost a good friend and lots of other pals had also turned there backs on me because of the leaked liaisons.
After school ended we went our separate ways, developed as people and went into study. I went on to have several partners and loose my virginity with someone who actually meant something to me, whereas he attempted university, dropped out discovered drink and drugs and continued to think that his rock band would become the next big thing. Mr. Woof turned into something of a womaniser and was well known for being a Harlequin. Rumour had it he lost his virginity to a forty year-old beside the bins at the back of a local pub. Classy! Mr. Woof made an appearance throughout my love-life, weather I was with someone or not, however it must be noted that none of my ex-partners ever took a liking to him. Mr. Woof and I had lost contact for a while after Mr. Workaholic had banned me from communicating with him, but got back in touch a few months after we split. It started as it always had with a "Hi, how are you?" and a person to make me laugh which was hard at that time. After reading the Fifty Shades novels I decided to embark on something of my own contract. And so we began another affair. Again I knew what I was getting into, but unlike in school where by I had a major crush on this guy, I had just come out of a long term relationship and needed something that was no-strings-attached fun. Something to make me smile and brighten up my otherwise gloomy day. Mostly it was just phone calls, usually relieving Mr. Woof of some form. Any time I would be there to answer his calls - late night, my lunch hour at work, even three-in the morning; you name it I did every possible shift. A round the clock help-line I suppose. But I enjoyed it, it brought me relief and helped me boost my self-esteem. Admittedly Mr. Woof was into some weirder things now we were older, ad I don't suppose Fifty Shades helped either. Strap-on's, dressing him in women's clothes, nipple clamps, name-calling and spitting were all part an parcel of our verbally drawn up contract. For once I wasn't on the receiving end and was able to dish out punishment like mash at dinner time. On one occasion, late at night I had grown tired and was knowledgeable to the fact that he was close and so told him to bark for me. Mr. Woof hesitated at first but after demanding it he obliged and barked softly. Upon further instruction from his mistress he woofed louder at which point must have felt good as he finished, panting that it was the best session yet.
Encounters like this make me smile with happiness, knowing that I can bring pleasure and relief to someone is a good feeling and to be in control and dominate someone id a great feeling I had never experienced before Mr. Woof came along - pardon the pun. I like the fact that nothing is hidden, all cards are on the table and we ca be honest about the fact that what we have be it past and future is no strings attached fun with no feelings getting involved and therefore avoiding a messy end situation. And whilst we are not in contact at the moment, I am sure that it wont be before long that he has finished with the most recent Beau on the block and comes crawling back to his mistress!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
So after my girlie weekend away I have come back relaxed and refreshed. It hasn't been without its spills though. nearly becoming human ice-cubes waiting for a cab after going to the theatre, arguments over who stank out the bathroom last and living off of pizza and fizzy drinks for an entire weekend are all highlights, not to mention the fact that I we all played truth or dare for many hours whilst getting unsuccessfully drunk. However this weekend has been much of an eye-opener to me, although Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb shall never know. Being away from my home area made me realise how secretly lonely I am. I mean I'm not going to be investing in a cat any time soon ... I'm not that lonely, but It did make me think about my relationship status and even more so about putting myself up on the shelf again. Thing is though, its a high shelf and a log way to fall if it all goes wrong again. That and how ca I guarantee that I wont just be left there? I know I'm only young at 21 but I found myself straying from the girls, wondering round the baby section of an expensive department store; cooing and touching all the toys and blankets, clothes and furnishings for a child's nursery. A familiar feeling returned to me that reminded me that, whilst on contraception and not wanting to start a family until I had a marriage and stability, my biological clock was ticking by. I tried to bring up the subject as Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I traipsed around. Strangely it was Miss Tweedle-Dee who sympathised and expressed the same concern, whereas Miss Tweedle-Dumb who is settled and in a steady relationship is not so worried. It truly terrifies me that I shall get to an age where I have nothing to show for my time on this planet, not a marriage, career or child in site. Just me. Alone. I am praying that this is never the case.
On a lighter note, the girls and I all made a trip to a well-know 'adult' high street store and whilst a very British me just blushed and stood around looking embarrassed and out of place, Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb decided to invest in a 'life-enhancing personal device'. After much negotiation and begging they gave in with trying to convince me to buy one and themselves went up to the counter and completed their seedy purchases separately. I on the other hand, within minutes of getting home on the Sunday evening was online looking at things that vibrate, swivel, pulse, gyrate, bend and twist. Its ordered for delivery tomorrow. At work. I hope its not too obvious. Could be quite awkward explaining away a buzzing box to the boss? Its not that I'm frigid or non-sexual, Its just that I'm indifferent to it. If you offered me sex with the right person (and from previous experience the wrong ones too) I would gladly oblige. But somehow self-exploration is way down on my to do list of a night. I would much rather eat unhealthy snacks and watch telly wrapped up in bed, thank-you. Funnily enough I was discussing this with Mr. Mot last week. He had asked why I didn't 'indulge' and I responded in the only way I know how - I giggled and brushed it off. But there is no getting around Mr. Mot, oh-no; so I gave in and spilled. "Why should I bother trying to do it myself and get no-where when I can just find someone who can do it much better than I can and produce better results?" At this point I had rather pissed on Mr. Mot's bonfire as I think he was hoping that the conversation would progress in its usual late-night manner. I tried to explain that ever since I was sexually curious there had always been someone around to lend a hand as it were. They came and they went but my most constant and regular entertainer was a big secret to all who knew me in school.
Mr. Woof liked the oddest of things, hence the naming here. We have been friends since meeting in the second year of High School and pretty much as soon as we met our liaisons began. In school, Mr. Woof was quite shy when it came to being in 'public' as it were but behind a few closed corridor doors and next to my green locker he was a demanding animal that like to rule and be ruled. Mr. Woof had a fondness for his own nipples being pleasured and enjoyed me playing with them very much. Several times we nearly got caught in the act, and I am sure that on many occasions my tutor knew something odd was happening outside her classroom - I mean, who spends nearly three hour-long lunchtimes a week standing by a locker "hugging" a friend. As we got older the intensity was stepped up. Math class was shared sitting next to each other whilst Mr. Woof's hands wandered over my school skirt and I talked to him about the work in a low, sensual voice. During a Saturday morning revision class Mr. Woof and I met early and went into one of the new recently built toilets. There we experimented with soft foreplay, biting, sucking, scratching. The fact that I was wearing glasses and had purposely worn red lipstick was something of a turn on for him, even now. I knew what I was doing, any sixteen year old does. It was fun and I enjoyed the secrecy of it all. The little affair with the boy who I had a crush on for ages and who was dating one of my closest school friends. Of course all secrets come out eventually and after that everything was on hold for a while until it quietened down again. But I had lost a good friend and lots of other pals had also turned there backs on me because of the leaked liaisons.
After school ended we went our separate ways, developed as people and went into study. I went on to have several partners and loose my virginity with someone who actually meant something to me, whereas he attempted university, dropped out discovered drink and drugs and continued to think that his rock band would become the next big thing. Mr. Woof turned into something of a womaniser and was well known for being a Harlequin. Rumour had it he lost his virginity to a forty year-old beside the bins at the back of a local pub. Classy! Mr. Woof made an appearance throughout my love-life, weather I was with someone or not, however it must be noted that none of my ex-partners ever took a liking to him. Mr. Woof and I had lost contact for a while after Mr. Workaholic had banned me from communicating with him, but got back in touch a few months after we split. It started as it always had with a "Hi, how are you?" and a person to make me laugh which was hard at that time. After reading the Fifty Shades novels I decided to embark on something of my own contract. And so we began another affair. Again I knew what I was getting into, but unlike in school where by I had a major crush on this guy, I had just come out of a long term relationship and needed something that was no-strings-attached fun. Something to make me smile and brighten up my otherwise gloomy day. Mostly it was just phone calls, usually relieving Mr. Woof of some form. Any time I would be there to answer his calls - late night, my lunch hour at work, even three-in the morning; you name it I did every possible shift. A round the clock help-line I suppose. But I enjoyed it, it brought me relief and helped me boost my self-esteem. Admittedly Mr. Woof was into some weirder things now we were older, ad I don't suppose Fifty Shades helped either. Strap-on's, dressing him in women's clothes, nipple clamps, name-calling and spitting were all part an parcel of our verbally drawn up contract. For once I wasn't on the receiving end and was able to dish out punishment like mash at dinner time. On one occasion, late at night I had grown tired and was knowledgeable to the fact that he was close and so told him to bark for me. Mr. Woof hesitated at first but after demanding it he obliged and barked softly. Upon further instruction from his mistress he woofed louder at which point must have felt good as he finished, panting that it was the best session yet.
Encounters like this make me smile with happiness, knowing that I can bring pleasure and relief to someone is a good feeling and to be in control and dominate someone id a great feeling I had never experienced before Mr. Woof came along - pardon the pun. I like the fact that nothing is hidden, all cards are on the table and we ca be honest about the fact that what we have be it past and future is no strings attached fun with no feelings getting involved and therefore avoiding a messy end situation. And whilst we are not in contact at the moment, I am sure that it wont be before long that he has finished with the most recent Beau on the block and comes crawling back to his mistress!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
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