Fifty Shades Finished ...

Evening, 

Sitting in the cinema, work colleagues surrounding me I felt emotional as the last few scenes played out on the big screen. This was a massive part of my life. It had been here for so long. I had read the books, Imagined my Christian and I his Ana. I had witnessed the terrible first movie and how, hooked and in need of a giggle I continued onto the Box Office for the second and third instalment. But now it was over. The end of an era and time maybe to say goodbye once and for all. 

Back in 2012, admits a gut-wrenchingly messy break-up with Mr. Workaholic I took complete solace in reading the trilogy of books by E. L James; 'Fifty Shades of Grey', 'Fifty Shades Darker' and 'Fifty Shades Freed'. It seems like so long ago I struggle to remember what it was like reading them, although I know already a part of me is hesitant to return to such a dark place in my past. Those books shaped my being, gave me structure and when everything else failed helped me realise that there was life after heart-break, even if it was sleazy and smutty. 

After being gifted 'Fifty Shades of Grey by Miss Tweedle-Dee I began reading a matter of weeks after Mr. Workaholic left what was to be our family home one day. I was hooked. It was my escape and at every given opportunity I would dive straight back into it. I couldn't put it down. On the Bus. On the Train. In the Weight Watchers Class. At work and At home. Like the rest of the nation, I was enraptured by Christian and his Red Room of Pain! Written as part of an original Twilight fan fiction I soon completely immersed myself in the world of Mr. Christian Grey and Miss Anastasia Steele. When I wasn't found drinking away my sorrows with friends of a weekend back home in Dunstable and Luton, or at sneaking out of work on a break to call Mr. Woof just to get him off, I would be found with my head in those books; escaping in any way I could from my own reality. 

As things got easier with my break-up with Mr. Workaholic, I soon rekindled a somewhat telephonic and long-distance relationship with Mr. Woof, (to which he has now earned his name) and in a round about way, gave me back some power and control I had since lost. In past blog posts I have written about how control and domination has been something of interest for me since I was a teenager, with rough play and borderline BDSM being a sticking point in many of my previous relationships. When E. L. James hit the big time with the trilogy of clit-flicks Fifty Shade of Grey, Fifty Shades Darker and Fifty Shades Freed, I was left wanting more. So when the films were announced to be released in cinemas I like many a red-blooded women was screaming in pleasure and joy at seeing Willies on the size on iMAX screens. Since then however, some idiot decided to turn the whole thing into a shoddily thrown together movie of the first book whereby we learnt that the cast hate each other, the director and the author hate each other and how much tits, bums and fannies get airtime in films that were made for women who like cock. 

Anyway that was Media Student me popping out to say hello, One minute whilst I beat her back into her fluffy-handcuffs. 

I suppose in a way the concept of BDSM had always been in the back of my mind, a taboo idea reserved only for a trusting relationship of which I found myself without. But I always liked the thought of being in control and in charge. I tried it once. Once! 

Cast your minds back everyone to my post entitled "A Midsummer Night's Disaster!" in which I truly thought that this would be a good time to implement my inner dominatrix. Suffice to say that attempting kinky sex with a drunk man whom you do not know the name of and have brought home for the night is not a good idea at all. My excuse was that I was a lost little soul who had just found out the love of her life was not reciprocating the feeling. I think we all know the ending to that story so I shall not relive it again. Looking back now it was a step too far and one which was taken in hast with the prospect of getting over my first and possibly only true love, at least that is what I thought at the time, unbeknownst to me that I would meet the quirky Mr. Cheese, The flash-in-the-pan that was Mr. Coffee and oh-so lovable Mr. Warehouse not to mention some of the other odd-balls I dated. 

Needless to say that I was happy with the (NSA) No Strings Attached heated phone-calls I received in the dead of the night from Mr. Woof. Some of them were when he was stoned. Some of them were when he was drunk. Some of them were even when he was at work himself. When I talk about it like that it seems as though he was using me to the highest of advantages; abusing the trust and vulnerability of an old friend. But I was as much to blame in that as Mr. Woof was. I wanted and needed attention. I craved it. I was lacking from all areas of life and was bruised by recent events, so I did what any normal girl would in that scenario and go back to what was familiar and comforting to me and that was Mr. Woof. Yes we had an odd relationship from the moments we would sneak off to a quiet corridor in school or the after school stolen sessions on the meadow fooling around in the sun. I was always his secret and now I didn't mind that so much as I wasn't ready for commitment but still needed that yearning attention and to get back some sort of control on my life. Even to this day I don't think that Mr. Woof really knew the power he had over me and how he made everything seem better in those stormy, cloudy days. I needed a little something I could dip into as and when I wanted. My honey pot of self-discovery and self-obsession. A confidence boost that extended far further than sexual gratification. Ahh yes, it was "A Dogs Life" after all. 

And as I left that cinema seat, another film over and done with, I felt sad for the ending of something that had brought me such fun, laughter and naughtiness over the last six or so years. And all for seeing a crumby movie about bondage. 


'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Still Got It!

Hiya!

Who makes up the rules of relationships? Where is the line from just a mild flirt to overstepping the mark? What constitutes as having an affair as opposed to just a fling? And why do we sometimes feel the need to dip our toes in the waters of singles-ville? Now who am I to judge what way you live your lives, but something over the weekend got me thinking. 

Sitting in a nice enough social club in the heart of the Bedfordshire countryside and surrounded by mainly faces I had never met before, I was mildly entertained by my evening at a thirtieth birthday party. With the needy DJ switching up songs every few minutes in order to keep at least one or two people on the dance floor, I was merry without the effects of alcohol. And no, I do not have something wrong with me (cheeky mare, you) but I had a driving lesson the following morning so wanted to be clear and clean ready to get behind the wheel with my instructor. 

After several rounds on the dance floor and a couple of trips to the bar, the night was rounding off to a good ending. But it was about to improve, for who was this Mr. Warehouse was talking to! "Ding! Dong!" I thought to myself as my boyfriend sat and chatted to whom appeared to be an old friend. The stranger soon noticed me sitting their trying to look interested in the tired, 1970-esk decor that shrouded the hall. Extending his hand, all the while sipping red wine from the other I took not of the dark, floppy hair and chocolaty eyes that framed the chiseled face and jumper-clad body. Well that's how my sober mind saw it anyway although you all know how I love to exaggerate. Nevertheless I acknowledged that he was and undoubtedly probably still is a dashingly handsome young man, whoever he was anyway. 

As the evening continued I found myself laughing at all his jokes, bonding over talk of work and what we all do for a living and even convinced him to wear my fedora, pulling it off like something out of a James Bay tribute act. Explaining how Mr. Warehouse and I met filled me with joy strangely and I am still unsure as to why. Maybe it was because I was so giddy that I was in the presence of not one but two equally screwable men, or maybe because I had already seen this stranger check me out and I was proud that I was all Mr. Warehouse's - No sharing permitted! Either way we had a length conversation with the good-looking stranger and his equally funny and friendly wife (yes that's right folks you heard correct - Wife!) and as you do when you are drunk and you plan to go onto buy houses next door to each other, send the children to the same school and eventually get a graveyard plot a few centimetres apart. 

Alas we have yet to go on our first double date with them which we had swapped numbers and made plans to do very soon but this got me really thinking. At what point would you say someone was overstepping the mark in a relationship? Everyone walks down the street or sees someone on the tube now and again and thinks 'Phwoar! I wouldn't kick them out of bed for farting' - A phrase I stole from my good friend Mr. CWG otherwise known as Creepy Warehouse Guy. Now you see why?! But when does it get past that and onto something more sinister. Is it when they stare with an intoxicated gaze at your chest, then look at you with a smirk in their eyes? Is it when they ask you to meet up after work for a quick drink? Is it when your on their sofa and your pants are ... OK we get the picture! But seriously though, what is OK?

Its normal right? I mean everyone has a crush on a celebrity or someone completely unobtainable like their boss at least once in their lifetime, its just life right? I know that the moment Cheryl Cole (or what every her bleeding name is now) is on telly with her new music video, trotting round in a pair of knickers, platforms and a whole heap of not-much-else; I know that my beloved boyfriend, Mr. Warehouse will be out for the count for at least three-minutes. But I don't mind because its unobtainable in the most part. What is dangerous is when it crosses into daily life - The stranger in the social club, the women on the bus. On an almost daily basis sometimes I watch people on my morning commute or that come through the offices be it Male or Female, and I appreciate how hot they are. Sometimes I feel the need to go and congratulate them on dressing well and sometimes I imagine them in underwear.Its naughty and you probably shouldn't do it but its just in your head so it cant really hurt anyone ... Can it?

I feel that this is a huge thing for me as I am always conscientious of not making Mr. Warehouse feel awkward or unloved or left out in social situations as I know I can be a bit (OK alot) of an attention whore sometimes (OK all the time - Jeez) and with this I feel comes part and parcel a little bit of flirting. Now I know where the boundaries lie and when your kissing someone who isn't your other half more than you would kiss your grandma then that's where you need to step away from the adultery and back the fuck off before anyone gets anymore hurt. I don't see anything wrong with kissing someone you have known for a while and that you are friendly with in a normal conventional sense on the lips. Nothing smoochy, just a quick peck on the lips - Soft and swift. Anything longer than a second is awkward and anything longer than three is pretty much "Get the topsoil we have a hoe"!

I'm not saying its OK to cheat or that I myself would, but what I do know from my past experience which I am not proud of being a cheater and being cheated on, someone is always going to lose. What I have taken away from anything on Friday evening was that whilst attractive strangers will come and go, its the people that tickle you on the sofa that matter. I love my Mr. Warehouse more than ever and with his new job finishing in a few moments I will anticipate his arrival home with more love and affection that I had yesterday but less than tomorrow. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Is It Money Or Love That Makes The World Go Round Again?!

Hi Ya'll, 

What a difference a year makes right? I mean this time last year, pretty much to the day I was in the middle of the Las Vegas holiday of a lifetime and boy is the holiday-blues strong with this one. Never have I ever wanted to go on holiday or go back to a time as with my all american dream holiday - Even if I did argue with Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb. 

Booking our holiday in January this year, my Tweedles and I are thoroughly looking forward to sunning ourselves on the beaches of Lanzarote and sipping cocktails by the pool. But it just seems so far away! Even the wedding Mr. Warehouse and I are attending in Newquay in Cornwall isn't until a week before my girls holibobs! With the years passing quicker than ever before I think myself and my friends have been severely bitten by the travel bug. Not going to lie - Slightly envious of Miss Tweedle-Dumb and her trips, city-breaks and holidays to Portugal and Paris all planned, I can feel myself turning into a little brat yelling in my head whilst having a tantrum every time someone mentions when they're going on their travels. The green-eyed monster is a-lurking, just what am I going to do! 

Scouring the holiday websites, desperate for some last minute cheap deal, a budget flight or even an offer on a train ticket, I will take whatever I can get so I can make the most of the upcoming Easter bank holiday. But everything is so expensive. And whilst on the one hand I need to pay for my driving lessons and save for a car, a little part of me will always be in search for my next arrival destination! I need more money! I need a pay-rise! I suppose I could work my second part-time job, but the hours aren't that great and its sucky walking home in the cold and dark, even if it is starting to get a little lighter each night. 

"Maybe I should whore myself out?!" I jokingly said to a male work colleague today in the canteen. 
"Yeah you should become one of those phone sex girls, talking dirty and stuff on the phone like you do to some of the customers?!" He replied. 
Slightly taken aback I had always thought about it, ever since my teenage years and even more-so after I separated from Mr. Workaholic and my late-night phone-calls with Mr. Woof started. I recall watching a programme on Channel 4, of all places, called "My Phone Sex Secrets" which opened my mind to the world of possibilities and just how much money can be made from pretending to be filthy, when in actual fact you have your feet up watching Corrie and sipping on tea in your Tigger onesie. 

On looking further into this it seems as though you could make a right little side earner from it, portraying yourself as a strong dominant female who demands you to beg for mercy or a sweet, innocent little something that bright eyed and bushy-tailed straight out of college, and everything in between. Whilst on the one hand I think about some of the kinds of people that call these Phone Sex chat-lines and wonder if their wives of bosses knew of their naughty affairs over the Dog and Bone that cost them upwards of a pound a minute, there is not much that would not make me blush. For example, I do not personally see the appeal of Water Sports, however this is not to say that I would not, or should I say, have not, told someone to drink their own excretions and on occasions even demanded them too, all in the knowledge that whilst I certainly don't get off on them doing it to themselves, a little part of me does enjoy overpowering others. 

Domination has been something of interest for me since I was a teenager, with rough play and borderline BDSM being a sticking point in many if not all of my previous relationships. It thrills me to think that I can have control over someone, just as much sometimes - if not more, that they can have over me. When E. L. James hit the big time with the trilogy of clit-flicks Fifty Shade of Grey, Fifty Shades Darker and Fifty Shades Freed, I was hooked from the moment Miss Tweedle-Dee introduced me to Christian and his Red Room of Pain! Since then however, some idiot decided to turn the whole thing into a shoddily thrown together movie of the first book whereby we learnt that the cast hate each other, the director and the author hate each other and my fanny has just swallowed itself for how shockingly poor that film was. Anyway that was Media Student me popping out to say hello, One minute whilst I beat her back into her fluffy-handcuffs. 

Now where was I? Ahh, yes - Odd arousals! Now you would think that for a women wanting to make a extra bit of cash on the side I would have thought about eBay and other bidding websites. Yes, whilst you can purchase most things from me including Sleepover kits, clothing and make-up, most popular of all seems to be footwear - most of which I have not worn in a while, if ever at all. A shoe enthusiast through and through, and with a growing collection of Sandals, Stilettos and Slip-on's; I would be mad to keep them all when I only have one pair of feet! Strangely though, I have more men buy my foot-houses than women. Peculiar as that may sound, foot fetish is still something of a taboo subject and whilst I have no qualms about foot and/or shoe fetishes, it is not something I find myself able to relate to. But if your willing to pay the price, I don't think there is much I would not sell - Well worn shoes, used brassieres and my silky, sensual tones. Just don't forget the P&P!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Nice Day For A White Wedding!

Afternoon All, 

And so as my problematic complaint against my energy company, British Gas (See last weeks post - 'An Electrifying Discovery'), bubbles away in the background I pack my bags and forget all about it as this weekend was time for a wedding! NO! No, not mine! Haha Phew, no! A relative of Mr. Warehouse's was to be married this weekend and as a result I had been invited for a right old family knees up with my other half and his crazy, crazy family. 

So after searching for nearly two months for a dress I had finally found one, just not in my size. I ordered a UK size 16 - Too small. I ordered a UK size 18 in a different colour - Still too small. I order four sizes too big for my just so I can get the right colour and low and behold it fits. Horrified that I could comfortable fit in such a size I have promised myself that I shall start my new diet and routine on the 1st of June, once all the festivities of May are over, wouldn't want to deprive myself now would I?! Besides, despite our differences the girls and I are finally off on holiday - Yes again, but this time I have got my wish. I am off to the party party island of KAVOS!!! Unfortunately though we have booked outside of season but rest assured where I and my Tweedles go there is always a party to be had, even if it does involve playing innuendo bingo on the balcony and having sun-cream squirt fights. Anyway back to the wedding ... 

Friday morning and the post arrives. I am anxious to see my delivery. Two dresses have turned up and as a precaution I take both with me to the hotel, just in case. Leaving work I was ready and excited to go on a mini-break/exciting weekend away with Mr. Warehouse as well as heating up the dance-floor with some good old Macarena and Cha Cha Slide! However I did not take into account the fact that neither of those songs were invented in the days whilst the happy couple were growing up and so there was Jives and Jigs the whole night through. 

On arriving to the hotel and checking in I had the horror of realising I left one of the most important things behind - My straighteners/curlers. Enquiring at reception as to if there were any spare pairs that had been left by another guest or where I would be able to buy myself a second pair seemed futile, until that is he picked up that gorgeous little telephone of his and rang around some old Crimpers! Finding one that was free and not too expensive either he made an appointment for her to come to mine and Mr. Warehouse's suite. Thanking the man profusely we made our way to our junior suite, rushing up the stairs and into our very own apartment for the weekend. Complete with folded toilet paper, biscuits and sparkling water we were in our element exploring the rooms and squealing when we found something new. As things became heated though and passion ripped through the Redlodge Junior Suite of the Oliver Cromwell Hotel in March, Cambridgeshire, we decided to take a dip in the pool. 

Naughtiness did not avoid us there either and as I beckoned Mr. Warehouse to sneak into my changing room he declined, opting for his own instead. A cool swimming pool, sweaty steam room and sweltering sauna awaited us as we entered but there was only one thing I wanted to do and despite numerous attempts in begging, Mr. Warehouse never did allow me to see how long I could hold my breath for in the hot tub. Far too excited to be in public and in need of a banging Chinese take-out we went back to our room, but not before I attempted another changing room kidnapping. Chinese ordered we settled in for a night in front of the TV and finally hit the sheets, only to be woken several time throughout the night by  what looked like a rather rowdy and shoddy attempt and an incognito drugs deal. 

Saturday morning and alarms ringing Mr. Warehouse and I rolled over and both took one look at each other. After a night of not sleeping well, shouting from outside and heat from the rooms thermostat we were lagging already. prising ourselves from the bedsheets we assembled ourselves together. With my make-up done, eyelashes on, hairdresser been and gone and breakfast finished all we had to do was slip on our outfits and head out to the Taxi-Cab waiting in reception. Pulling up to the front of the registry office I questioned my beliefs in having a wedding inside any venue other than a church, despite being sceptical about religion. The house looked beautiful from the outside, Wisteria billowing down the walls of the old Victorian house looking over the River Nene. Pretty indoors as it was outside, we took our seats in the Library clad in sparkly chandeliers and walls decked with old dusty books. We were soon joined by Momma Warehouse and other family that I knew. 

The ceremony was beautiful and the wedding day as blissful and as perfect as anyone could have hoped. Not everything was to my tastes but then again, it was not my wedding. The brides gown was genuinely breathtaking and something I would have been more than happy to wear; Bride or not! But as the band began to play and the dance-floor became busy Mr. Warehouse and I were surrenders to tiredness, eventually collapsing into bed in the early hours of Sunday morning. 

This weekend made me question a few things though, as I suppose it does when anyone, particularly a women goes to a wedding. Commitment is a big thing and although I do not want my home invaded permanently by the stench of man-fart and odd socks, I am slightly more willing to thinking about it. But certainly not for a very long time yet! What isn't long away though is the annual awards ceremony with work where by people get awards, we all eat food, there's an abundance of free booze and everyone dresses in fancy dress. It is literally my dream come true weekend and unlike this time last year, Cinderella will go to the ball ... 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Like Waiting For A Bus ...

Evening everybody, 

Hope all is well in the land of wherever you be reading, fine fellows. Here in Blightly as some of you may have noticed is fucking freezing. Quite literally - It was snowing here in the 'Shire. Which is why I now in my toasty little flat with a blanket draped over my legs. Yes. I am naked as I write and as brutally honest I could be much more honest with you all on some of my most recent feelings, but I shall not dwell on them before I have to. All in good time. Instead I thought I may share some warmth with you and try my hand at some erotic fiction. Now I must warn you that this is maybe not for the faint hearted and nor should you be reading whilst your Boss is in the same room, besides shouldn't you be managing an Excel Spreadsheet or drafting up a letter. For this is something special, a personal experience, and one that I will never forget - All I can say is ... FINALLY!
Enjoy!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

---

It was a cold and blustery evening in late December when the young, blonde and her current partner, were lying on a pull out sofa-bed, watching junk TV and scoffing even junkier food. After hours of relaxing and laughing in each others company the mood suddenly changed. With the mind racing (and somehow playing Barry White at the same time), she experienced her lovers hot kisses, leaving light wet stains down her pale neck as he trailed down her warm body. In vain, she tried to keep her breathing slow and steady whilst allowing  her spirit to be taken over. Hearts starting to skip, beating harder and faster making the young women breathe heavier as he went even lower. As he cups her supple breasts in each hand she whispers for him to take her nipples to his lips and begin to nibble and suck lightly making her moan softly, throw her head back in pleasure, long, blonde hair tumbling over the both of them, cascading down her voluptuous body. 

"I can feel myself getting wetter with every kiss you place on my smooth skin" she says as he tugs on her chest once more, swiftly making her convulse with pleasure. Slowly his hands start to run across her warm stomach and down to the hips where he holds them tightly, pressing his palms into her pelvis to stopping her body writhing from the pleasure. 

"Its too much. I need you. Now." she pants in his ear. "Take me" she says in deep, hushed tones. Breathing heavy and kissing passionately he grasps her neck and face in his manly hands, tugging playfully on her long locks and she knows to return the favour running her deft fingers through his hair. Holding the nape of her neck as he kisses her - Long, passionate, meaningful kisses. This is making the tension between them harder to resist. 
Slowly she trails her hands to his crotch, playing with the waistband, teasing making him feel the pressure as much she is. Inch by inch she gradually makes it into his tight underwear. Feeling him throbbing in her soft hands she moves him up and down, pacing them both until their breathing gets to the same speed. Feeling him succumb to her charms was exhilarating and knowing this just by looking into his eyes and hearing him groan, she moves faster until he cant take it no more. Releasing himself she ran her fingers along his silky shaft whilst he kissed and bit at her décolletage. 

Grabbing at her waist, he shifted her so she was finally underneath him, revealing the silken bedsheets swaddling the make-shift bed. Looking into each others eyes lust takes hold and suddenly they are pulling at each others clothes violently trying to get them off as quickly as possible, sensually making-out as they undressed. As she ruffles her fingers through his hair, he moves south and in the knowledge of how moist she was, he tugs off her underwear. Finally he bury's his head between her strong, toned thighs and with a strong hold on her pelvis begins to taste her, as hot as the tension between them. She could feel herself getting higher. He could feel it too as they entwine their fingers, steadily climbing to the peak. Again it gets too much for her to handle and just before she climaxes he stops and join's her in the Northern-hemisphere. 

As he clutches something long and pink, bought by someone old, he smiles knowing just what an impact this joyous stick will provide. Smiling he slowly caresses her lower body with the vibrations, holding it close to her making it even more intense and highly-strung than before. She was so sensitive. So moist. So ready. He can tell just how amazing this feels for her and getting more and more excited himself he continues to stimulate her Nether-Region. Harder he presses. Faster he moves. Deeper he thrusts into her and higher she climbs. Oh god. More! More! Please! She begged him to pull her in closer and hold her as she climaxed. Getting hotter she felt the waves she had read about and heard tales of so many times as her and her friends sat around at dinner discussing it. Rolling waves of heat and chill soon enough lead her to the peak. Eye rolling, back arched, body uncontrollably shaking and quivering with excitement she came, her world crashing around her in a spectacular first ever orgasm. He wasn't about to give up though and getting off himself in this torturous pleasure-game as mere seconds later it was in another blazing glory that she climaxed again, coming a second and a third time.  

In the moments that followed he wanted her for himself and as they spend moments staring into each others eyes, all she wants is to feel him inside her, getting deeper and harder. She does not have long to wait as he teases his way into her, prizing her legs apart and squeezing her waist as he enters slowly. Gasping as she feels him stretching her and letting out a little moan he starts to get harder, tensing his manhood as he thrusts into her once more making her cry out in pleasure. She knew by his contorted face that he was not far behind and as she tightened herself around him. She could feel him. All of him. As she whispered breathlessly sweet nothings into his ear and softly bit the earlobes of her partner, he held down her hips, his grip getting harder he let out the longest, deepest, animalistic groan she had ever heard. She felt the shudders from his core as he groaned once more, finishing deep and hard. 

Exhausted he collapses, snuggling his head into her breasts. There they lye for a while as she plays with his face until he pulls her into his chest where they fall asleep in each others arms, both of them blissfully unaware of the world outside and just how different it is, now she has experienced her first orgasm that is!

The Drought!

Morning All, 

So with last week melancholy nature well and truly put to rest (no pun intended) and with my addiction to boys slightly scarred by the previous few date I have been on I have officially picked myself up and am ready to start again with dating - In more ways than one!

More than six-weeks have passed since I was last laid. Six Weeks! I didn't even know such a drought could happen like this. But whilst I wonder every night laying there drifting off listening to cats killing themselves or my middle-aged neighbours (whom I am pretty sure are swingers) my thoughts turn to why I am not hanging off the end of my black iron bed-frame. I am single. Still. Now this would not be such a bad thing but I feel that in some respects I am more highly sexed than your average female and as a result when I don't get it I end up tense, achy and stressed constantly. The effects of not having regular bodily stimulation takes on a physical as well as mental toll on my gorgeous body (Ironic there you see! Aha). Like today at work. I nearly hid under my desk from all my problem emails and phone-calls but instead I took my lunch and ate Cous Cous to which everyone from the office and adjacent warehouse now thinks I am a Toff! Mental note for future - You know you need to get some when you are reaching for the Ainsley Harriott Red Pepper Couscous in the supermarket. Step away from the freeze-dried goods aisle and hit me up someone on Tinder! And yes I am still addicted ... 

Now whilst being single is definitely not a problem, in fact I think I much prefer myself out of a relationship, at least one that was as stifling as the last one I encountered; I still find that my needs are not being met. You see I am unfortunately a girl whom is unable to satisfy herself. Odd as it sounds and as strange as it may be I have never taken much pleasure in twilight antics of a lone nature. I find it tedious and boring. Its not that I don't like it, its just I don't see the point if I am alone. Besides, for moi, it is so much more thrilling and exciting when it is with someone else. Especially when you have been with that person a fair amount of time and you know that they have the history and skills to bring you there but sometimes just choose to keep you just beneath the peak for pure torturous pleasure until you beg them to stop. Even when your begging it doesn't always have to end. If you have a strong partner who can keep his (or her) cool then asking for something and not getting it is almost as exhilarating sending you into a wild frenzy, just itching for that release. I also have never experienced 'The Big O' yet. Now many men have tried, but most I feel have failed in there quest to bring me that wave of heat and excitement. Disappointing as it is I know that I may be one of the many women of this wonderful planet that never ever get to feel what it is like. But then again a question I always ask my friends - How do you know? I may well have had one and never even known about it. The annoying thing about all of this is that if anyone was even close to getting me there it would have been Mr. Workaholic or Mr. Cheese both of which are slightly absent right now! 

Frustrating as this all is I know that I cannot wholly become fixated on what happens between the sheets. Whilst sex is a fairly sizable part of my relationship with someone, I understand that it isn't for everyone. I need someone who I can have fun with. Something fresh and new, exciting and clean (or filthy). I want to feel giddy and woozy as well as the horn. Am I looking for Love or am I just looking for a good time? This is the question that has been battling me for several weeks now and I feel that now is the time to decide. A boyfriend is just scary and not a necessity I really can deal with right now. A relationship (of sorts) that can be loose and free within reason is something I am tempted by. It intrigues me and teases me with all the possibilities it entails. As time passes by and the longer the dry spell continues the less my 'Number' seems to matter to me. I mean, I could always lie about how many people have seen the downstairs. I remember someone telling me a rule of thumb once - Divide your 'Number' by three and then add one?! That brings me out to 3.33 recurring. How does that work? 

Maybe I need to work backwards rather than forwards with this whole dating thing! Start with the sex and see if it leads anywhere good. And whilst I like the idea of a NSA (No Strings Attached) set up I know it would be unlikely to work for both parties. An NSA programme is good in theory but it can never work when you live somewhere like Bedford where men that are pleasing to the eye are scarce. Plus I think that in the long run it would make me unhappy stuck with someone who I will inevitably fall head over heels for only to realise they like the back of my head rather than the front. If I wanted just sex I would have found that weeks ago but I am not. So what the hell am I looking for? Maybe I am therefore looking for a friends with benefits thing. The two are very different as I have come to discover. Where NSA sex is very much what it says on the tin - wham bam thank you ma'am; a friends with benefits situation is much more pleasant I feel. A place whereby if left long enough and seeds planted a fruitful, loving, nurturing relationship could blossom. The thing that I probably enjoyed most about the first few months with Mr. Cheese was simply having the freedom to do as a single girl can whilst having someone to snuggle up with and go on dates to the local ice-cream parlour. I want the cuddles at night, the spooning, the curled up TV days and the giggles and play-fights that turn into lazy but mind-blowing weekend afternoon sex. Yes, that is where I want to be. 

Naturally I invest too much in people. even in dates that are not dates. It was only just this last weekend I spoke to Miss Tweedle-Dumb of a few dates lined up in the coming weeks jokingly mentioning how Abbey *Insert Last Name* sounds blissfully better than the last few. And as my dear best friend looked at me oddly I secretly envisioned our entire wedding day together like something from a girlie Rom-Com! I seem to start making the omelette before I have even loaded up my egg basket never mind how much is in it. Always thinking far too much into stuff and not letting things go with the flow. As my father said to me the other day after nearly an hour of showing him how to use Tinder that I should slow down and stop hunting for something that will make itself known when it is ready. Pappa Bear explained that I should take a moment for myself and remember that although I am nearly twenty-three, my clock still has a lot of tick left in it. Throughout what he was saying I knew he was being truthful but it still didn't silence that little part of me that thinks that if I reach thirty and am not at least married then I will defiantly be eaten by Alsations by the time I reach thirty-two. He told me I should be young and free, making mistakes and cringingly laughing about them with friends over a bottle of wine or two. I think he was talking about Love, but it could well have been a moment of insanity in which I seem to indulge in - Alot!

And with this in mind I my thoughts immediately turn to a naughty little thing I did the other day. An UnDate - Basically Date that is not a Date or whereby one of the attendees does not acknowledge the alterer motives of such a meeting with said other party. Make sense? Probably not. But not too worry all will be revealed soon after my trip to Ireland but for the time being I can't spill too much, but all I can say is that I better get some oven mittens because I could quite well get burnt by this one ... 

''Til Next Time, Love A.Lou xx

Confessions of a Lustful Job Hunter!

Bloggers Note: I have recently decided to start a thing going whereby if you yourself have a 'Trial or Tribulation' that I can help with then feel free to drop me a free and fully confidential message by popping it on a mini form in the right-hand sidebar or email me at: Abbbey4@gmail.com :) xx

Morning All, 

And so my first week of unemployment has melted away before I even have a chance to understand fully what I am actually going to do with myself. Grateful for the understanding nature of friends and some family this week I have been well supported with my job search. Although I thought that after loosing my job would be the worst thing in the history of the universe I have actually been surprised with the amount of feedback and the successfulness in finding work if you want it. 

Following a telephone interview with a well-know camera manufacturer I bagged a 'real' interview at their Bedford HQ on Wednesday morning. Running slightly behind schedule I made it in time to meet the ladies who walked me through my interview and also the women whom I chatted on the phone to as well. The role itself was pretty simplistic and I wasn't wholly thrilled by the fact that it would only be until the end of this year covering maternity leave, but with a two-thousand-pound bonus at the end of the contract and the possibility of being taken on permanently, I didn't really have ground to complain. Thus don't start asking me for a discount on lenses and filming equipment just yet as I unfortunately didn't make the cut for the second stage interviews and so the ideal of working within a company that made the selfie that much easier was dashed. 

Wednesday also held for me much more good news as after I had finished my hour-long interview with my first potential employer I attended another interview at a Fire Safety establishment in a industrial park just outside the town centre. Arriving to the premises after getting slightly lost I was ready to shine. And that I did. After another hour-long interview which felt more like a lengthy and fun chat about credit control I was let loose back onto the streets of Bedford to hunt down that all elusive job with a healthy salary and good atmosphere to match. Luckily for me the gentleman that interviewed me on Wednesday at the Fire Safety place wants me back along with another lady to go head to head in the second stage interviews this Thursday. Wish me luck!

I wasn't finished at just two interviews Wednesday as I had to attend a meeting at the local hell hole - The Job Centre. walking into the meeting I was ushered over to what looks like a pimped up 18th century school class room with chairs that had easels attached for writing down important stuff. As this wasn't the first time I signed on I wasn't expecting what happened, which was essentially a group lecture on job searching and about claiming off the state. Brilliant! As if every one of us in the room needed another punch in the stomach to wind us of all self-worth and motivation. Thanks coalition government!

Still not having eaten I headed to the train station and boarded a train to St. Albans, a city in which I hold much favour. It was one of the first places I had come as a young adult on a shopping trip with Miss Tweedle-Dumb and subsequently visited with Mr. Workaholic but obviously not for anything other than seeing work colleagues and finding out which one of them had recently been struck off work for dealing in cocaine. Nevertheless, exhausted as I was I multi-tasked by walking swiftly to the agency office in the town centre whilst conducting another telephone interview with another agency based back home in Luton. I know right, how skilled I am!

Thursday was much the same as Tuesday whereby I used the time I would usually be at work slaving over spreadsheets and paperwork scouring the web for the next best positions in my area. Following my Job Centre lecture I learnt that there was truth in what I had always told people and that the majority of jobs are now posted online. In fact the figures we were given as in-between-jobbers was that over seventy percent of jobs are now never even posted on the net, employers preferring to source potential candidates themselves or in my instance just add the workload to the employees already busting their ball-sacks working as hard as they can. Companies would favour 'Twitter' rather than going through and agency or website and paying fees for such services that they could easily get for nothing via social media. 

The week was rounded off with another interview with a flooring company in which they loved me so much they invited me back today for a tour of the office space and warehouse as well as to meet the team. A lovely bunch and I must have done something right being the first person that they saw at 10:30am on a Friday morning and wanting me back in their offices Monday afternoon. The vibe I get is that they are eager for me to join as am I although I wonder if maybe I can hold out on giving them a definitive answer by the end of the week as I would like to see where the rest of my interviews this week get to. I have five lined up for the days ahead. That, coupled with the eight I had last week means that in every sense on the phrase I am getting their. I would say slowly but surely but everything had sped along so fast this week I haven't even had a chance to think about being out of work. 

It wasn't all hard work though as Wednesday evening was spent with my favourite girls; Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and Miss Stuu. Yet again our conversation turned round to the topic of sex, boys and relationships. Most topics of conversation were covered I feel, making us more aware that yes, every female in the land has experienced the compression of air in the Southern Hemisphere whilst being in the presence of a naked man. Yes, the aptly named 'Fanny Fart'. Gross as it may sound these are things that ladies speak of. In fact the conversation didn't stop their as talk soon turned to the ''apparently'' best bit about pleasure. The Orgasm. Now I myself am able to come and whatever is happening down their feels amazing when done right but I don't think I have ever experienced 'The Big O'! I mean what is it? Where does it come from? And most importantly how the hell can I get one?! You see I am not one for self-pleasure or masturbation as such and despite my abundance of toys I am still unable to get myself off. Its not that I don't know what I like because I do, god knows I tell the men that have come in and out (Don't laugh) of my my life what I like and don't like but I am just not able to do it myself. Maybe its the fact that I know what is coming (Naughty) or whether I prefer someone else's touch even if it isn't quite hitting the right spot. 

I am a difficult one I feel; easy to please when you know how to but somewhat unrelenting in my appetite lately. I feel sorry for Mr. Cheese sometimes for having to put up with my thirst for bedroom exercise. Sex is something that for me makes all my problems go away. Not to say that I am an addict or anything but that is my go to when I feel lonely or stressed or sad or loving or angry, anything. I'll give you an example. Last weekend I saw Mr. Cheese himself and after a lovely meal we settled in front of the box for a bit before bed. Getting up from the couch I whispered in my boyfriend's ear seductively to come meet me in the bedroom in five minutes. After leaving a salivating other-half on the sofa to stew I flung my clothes on the floor and dressed myself in nothing more than a football shirt and suspender stockings. Laying myself bare on the bed I lit some candles and set the mood for a night of lustful intentions. Entering the boudoir I hoped for the passion to be ignited. Unfortunately after what felt like an eternity of teasingly fantastic foreplay and being thoroughly ready for some action I was informed that despite my effort, enthusiasm, suspenders, stockings, football shirt and lack of a bra the Boyfriend just wasn't interested. Shocked and stunned by what I was hearing the lights went on, teeth were brushed and I was forced to accept that I wouldn't be getting laid. Feeling deflated, unattractive, anti-sexy and questioning everything about us I fell asleep. The excuse that Mr. Cheese was tired were justifiable but nevertheless nearly every man on the planet has that as a fantasy and by his own admission had said it was one of his quoting that I should do it when his flat mates were out so as not to make too much noise. 

But on the other end of the spectrum I seriously worry about my being and whether I am normal. Is it normal for a women to have such a high sex drive? I don't know? It has always been a happy medium of sex-initiation's prior to Mr. Cheese but I feel now sometimes that he only obliges to my panders because he wants to appease me rather than him also wanting to partake. I am usually quite a relaxed person generally but lately I have been feeling more tense and stressed almost on a daily basis. The last time I felt like this I was with Mr. Workaholic and it was just a simple case of getting naked for him and that was it I would be pounded within an inch of my life only to then fall asleep blissfully unaware of the train-wreck it would eventually end in. Sadly with a Boyfriend in London it seems my stresses shall have to wait. It is at time like these where I feel my back tighten and my body ache a little that I know I need a really good seeing too, someone to come and ruin me. Don't get me wrong I love when its slow and rhythmic with an intense build up knowing that I will hit peak soon although sadly it ends with the man finishing too early. But Hey I can't blame him it does blow your mind when it is at the same pace, slow and steady. I think maybe I need to experiment more with myself. 

So off I hop to dust off my rabbits and get my rocks off - Just in time for Easter!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

College Days!

Hi There, 

Another week down and only a few more left until Christmas is here and already I'm like a kid in a sweet shop. So after a lazy weekend in decorating my little flat with Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb and having a good old girlie sleepover I am glad to have time to myself this weekend what with not seeing Mr. Cheese and all. Its not that we didn't want to see each other because we did, it was just the fact that getting anywhere on public transport in the UK is such a ball-ache and so very expensive. Although a quiet weekend in has left me craving another night out with my fellow single wing-women, Miss Chocolate. Oh the fun we used to have in college, or outside of it as the case may be. We had some wild times, most of which was fuelled by alcohol and exploits of a naughty nature. It was on one of these occasions that I fell arse over tit for a boy whose wardrobe was more colourful than Elton Johns and had more complications that flat pack furniture. Meet Mr. Babycakes ... 

Ever since I first started College back in September 2009 there have been many people that I fancied that have come and gone with the change in seasons. It was my first few months in College where I met one of my closest friends, Miss Chocolate. At first she wasn't my cup of tea but after spending a few projects larking around and filming together we soon became the best of friends. She knew all my secrets including who I was crushing on and all the gossip and drama that came with it. And despite being labelled the 'married couple' of our year we had some laughs including our first College trip away. Up until the last day of our College trip had been a bit of a downer. Whilst the filming was fun and exciting and I enjoyed being in front of the camera I was missing home and my Dad especially. It was very unlike me to get home-sick, but somehow I was. The last day of the holiday was upon us and as filming commenced I thought about how the holiday had gone and as the clapper went down our Tutor yelled it was a wrap and we all hugged and cheered before heading off to get ready for the after-parties that followed. 

I didn't really feel in the party mood and hadn't really brought anything to wear anyhow. "I'll just sit in with a good book" I thought. Be a loner. As everyone left our Tutors Chalet come Studio to start a night of complete mayhem and drinking I stayed behind to change out of my costume and back into normal clothes. Mr. Babycakes, my on-screen boyfriend; Who was that last person to leave and just before I went to change I asked him to wait for me so I wouldn't be alone. He obliged and stuck about until I was finished changing. We left our Tutor's 'Studio' shortly after and Mr. Babycakes offered to walk me back to the Chalet I shared with Miss Chocolate and some other College friends. As I explained that I didn't have the key so there would be not much point we started to walk in the freezing night air. It started to rain and it wasn't before long that I was shivering and getting wet. Kindly, Mr. Babycakes slipped his arm around my waist and I copied. We were a friendly bunch in College; always hugging and kissing one another so this whilst felt romantic and lovely didn't come across as such at first. 

Walking along the gravel roads that crunched beneath our feet I explained that there really was no point in us going back to mine without a key and if we wanted it then we would have to walk all the way down to the sea front in the freezing and now getting heavier down pour to collect it. Suddenly we stopped outside an unfamiliar and vacant Chalet and Mr. Babycakes mentioned how he thought I was cold. I said that I was and he quickly hugged me, unzipping his Mr. Babycakeset and wrapping me in it. This meant that we were now very, very close. I liked it. In fact, I liked him. From the moment we first started college in September I had fancied him, but he was pushed aside as I was in a different group to him as well as social status too. But nevertheless I wasn't complaining about being this close to him, and apparently, neither was he. Mr. Babycakes asked me if there was anything wrong, I had seemed a bit dull and upset. I explained that it was my character to be gloomy and bitter. He replied smartly with something about if it had anything to do with missing my Dad. I agreed. How did he know that? Miss Chocolate probably, I know she would have been trying to get us talking more what with me crushing on him a little. With this he gave me a cuddle. I love his cuddles; he was so gentle and sweet. Our heads started to become very close. Very, very close and it wasn't long before our foreheads and noses were touching as we gazed into each other’s eyes. in the crisp, wet twilight. 

"We probably shouldn’t be here; it’s a family Chalet, mines just over here." I said taking some much needed control of the situation. Together, Mr. Babycakes and I continued to walk along the gravely path towards my Chalet, talking about my Dad and filming over the past week. Once we arrived I trotted up and past the front window and I wrestled with the door handle. The lights were on but there was no-one home. Everyone was out and the doors were locked. "As they should be" I thought, my laptop is in there. And again we found ourselves entwined together hugging and cuddling as I rested my head on his shoulder, nearly ready to fall asleep as I felt so comfortable with him. Mr. Babycakes and I stood there in a warm embrace for what seemed like ages. Stood there, directly in between the two lit doors to the Chalet I did not possess a key to. As I pulled away from the hug I caught his eyes and instantly forgot what I was about to say and just stared as he did too. Shiny and blue like a polished gem. The silence was finally broken when he quietly whispered the fact that our on screen kiss was knocked off the schedule after he fell ill on the second day of filming and we had to cast another person to play the part. 

Typical me and without thinking; I shocked both of us when I said in a husky voice that we could just kiss anyway. Mr. Babycakes seemed to enjoy what I had just said and took it as the green light to continue with anything else he had in mind. I soon realised what I had said and apologised and yet again I was interrupted by his sparkly eyes. Slowly the sentence trailed off as our heads began to move closer together, and as we commenced the part where our skin touched our heads started to lean to one side my mind was screaming with joy! As it started to rain heavier our lips locked, and we began to kiss passionately under the night sky. We continued to kiss for a long time, gently testing the waters. Suddenly my ears pricked up and apart from the rain I could hear footsteps in the wet gravel. Big footsteps. Heavy and very nearly upon us. Not wanting to get caught canoodling I reluctantly pulled away and as Mr. Babycakes collected himself a friend of Miss Chocolate’s walked round the corner waving a shiny, silver key. With a fag in his mouth Miss Chocolate’s associate handed me the key and I let us all in, grateful for the warmth. Pulling out my stash of smuggled alcohol I asked if my key-bearer was staying. 

"Nah can’t stay. Our Tutor is having a wrap party over at his, he's finished filming. Are you coming?" The key-man asked, his cigarette bouncing up and down like mad as he continued to talk with it hanging out of his mouth. I declined. As he left I locked the door, unsure as to why I was locking it and when I was going to be unlocking it and what would be happening in between then and now. A short silence was raising its head as I asked if Mr. Babycakes was leaving too. He too declined. I asked if he would like a drink. He said yes. As I went to pour the Vodka into tumblers, Mr. Babycakes broke the quietness with a question. 

"OK, well we can either forget that ever happened as of tomorrow or continue with it and go with the flow?" I stopped in my tracks as he said this and began to reflect upon what I should say. "Forget it tomorrow? Surely if you’re going to forget something you would forget it now, wouldn't you?" I said as a smile played across my face. I looked over to him and he looked uncomfortable and not sure as to what to say to explain himself. I don't think Mr. Babycakes expected such an answer to come back. “Touche” I thought. As I handed him a drink and took my seat next to him on the couch. Instantly I turned to face him, paying no attention at all to the television that he had switched on upon his arrival. No sooner than I had a chance to sit down and the flirting and teasing commenced. It started with playful hand and knee touching as we talked, progressing further to full blown seductiveness in everything that we did. 

I would play with his hair as he whispered in my ear. I would lean in close and reply in hushed tones. Mr. Babycakes seemed to enjoy this, a little more than one should when he has prior engagements. Nevertheless he didn't decline to my advances and proceeded to tell me exactly what they were doing to him, keeping no graphic details to himself. This in turn lead us to kissing again and this time I decided to turn up the heat a bit by softly biting his lower lip. Surprisingly you would think that he might want to pull away, since it is me that were on about here. Not exactly Sleeping Beauty am I. But for some unknown reason that I was not planning to confront, he didn't. Now you may be starting to think that this was happening all because of that drink. Well you would be wrong. I had one sip before sitting down with him and Mr. Babycakes hadn't even bothered with his. We were both completely sober. So you can imagine my amazement when he had told me that I was a good girl and I needed a treat. And yes. Indeed he did class that as a treat for me and not at all a for himself. Mr. Babycakes and I teased for the majority of the evening, seeing how far we could push each other. Turns out the floors the limit. With my knees firmly fixed in the short pile of my seaside Chalet. 

Standing back in the lounge of the Chalet I prepared to go outside and into the cold night air again by shoving on my coat and boots. When Mr. Babycakes wasn’t looking, I quickly took a swig of neat vodka to cushion the blow I had just encountered. As I turned to collect the keys from the sideboard, Mr. Babycakes gave me a hug but as we pulled away he went in to kiss me. I turned away positive that he would not approve of the lingering taste in my mouth. He looked at me and gathered what I was trying to say. Then he simply kissed me softly on my cheek. I think at that point I had melted and realised that I wanted him all to myself. Mr. Babycakes kissed me several times on the cheek before we left, departing separate ways to our own group of peers saying that we needed to exchange numbers sometime. 

Oh yes. How myself and Miss Chocolate had some gossip to share in College. I'm surprised we passed. I am sure that we have many more years to party on as wing-man and wing-woman. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx