Finally....some cock!

Betcha been worried about what's happened to my sex life since I settled down with my - ahem - not classically good-looking man. I'm going to get a picture of him in here soon, but promise promise promise you won't say anything about his ears. Incidentally, how cruel of fate to have given him such giant lugs, and then rendered one of them useless. Which means I must always sleep on the right side of the bed, because otherwise when he lies in bed gazing lovingly at me, his crappy ear is uppermost and he cannot understand a fecking word I say.

I've been a bit worried too, about whether our previously wild and wicked sex life had been replaced by something deeper and more loving: violins play, pink furry hearts intertwine and then we fall asleep all content. But the last 24 hours has been a good old-school festival of shagging. What a relief! (But not to my nipples).

We started with what has always been our favourite foreplay. I opened with deep but gentle huffing, caused by him being in the pub when I turned up at his house. He responded by trying to be winsome, while emptying several bottles of Budweiser down his throat. I stepped up the pace by uncorking a bottle of red, and increasing the rhythm of my haranguing, until he became aware that I was actually giving him a firm bollocking. He rang the changes by drawing back and claiming that we had been unhappy for x weeks. (The value of x is unimportant, what is important is that he tries to make his claims sound true by assigning some specific length of time to them) We were just about to reach climax (me walking off into the night without a proper coat on) when we were interrupted and had to hurriedly adjust our faces. Drunk Nephew came in with drunk mate of D's and we all got distracted by cooking food that had passed its sell-by date. Mate went home, and I chatted to Nephew and drank wine for ages till we noticed that D had gone. I found him lying on the bed fast asleep with his boots and all his clothes on. D can REALLY sleep, particularly at 3am after 300 Budweisers, and I felt a kinky urge to take his clothes off and put the duvet on top. I got his boots, socks and jeans off, and was just trying to yank his shirt cuffs over his dead-weight hands when he woke up and smiled.

He took his own shirt off then hugged me to him, and within moments had come up with an excellent stiffy. That's impressive, no? He played with my tits in an idle way for a bit and then said "Fuck me". I was gagging for it, so I climbed on top and did that. I saw myself doing it in the mirror and gave myself a cheeky smile. I'm afraid that after that it got quite rude. It went on till 6am, then we woke up at 11 and did some more. We tooks the dogs for a walk, had lunch in a pub, then went back to bed and thought of some other stuff to do.

I won't tire you with the details, but I do have a top tip for the fellas. If you are worried that your cock is on the small side, here is how to make perspective work for you. Sit over your partner's chest and wave your erect tool in their face. I tell you what, they all look enchantingly massive from that angle.

After the post-lunch session, it was time for me to go home with dried cum on my face (too much in love to wash it off). Sometimes, Sundays can be quite nice.

Revenge of the Psycho Ex

I've known a few people whose lives consist of one brilliant anecdote after another. Something about them attracts humorous, startling or sometimes tragic disasters to them. These people tend to be women of a certain age (pronounced arge) with a lust for life and a generous handful of children.

One such person is my friend SSA. Regular readers will know that she recently left her husband for (it turns out) one of my former shag bunnies.

In an attempt to dodge her severely disgruntled husband, she moved into a rented house and kept the address secret from Hub. But he found out by following her car.

He has plagued her with text messages since she left, twenty or thirty a day. When she is working, SSA gives the phone to a colleague to extract anything she needs to know and then delete the messages. But from dusk to dawn she has to deal with his anger, pleading, insults and biblical misquotes on her own.

Hub doesn't usually phone because SSA won't answer, but one morning he caught her out by calling really early and she answered straight from sleep without thinking.

"Look out the window"
SSA went and looked out the window at the sky to see if it was snowing. But no..
"What?"
"Look at the road"
She looked at the road in front of house, but nothing except the usual row of parked cars.
"What??"
"Look a bit to the left"
She looked a bit to the left, and there, parked in front of her neighbour's driveway was a van with a billboard on the side. Written on the billboard in big sugar pink letters were the words "SSA I love you". In many of the streets of Reading, it is hard to get the parking place you really want.
"Oh No!!"
She hung up, and went downstairs to look properly. Coming out of the front door she is accosted by the angry next-door neighbour who is complaining that their car is boxed in and they can't go to work.
"Your name is SSA isn't it? Get this fucking thing shifted"
SSA agrees that her name is SSA, and attempt to claim that her name is spelt slightly differently. But being a serious Christian, she is rubbish at lying and anyway as the neighbour points out, they have seen her mail and know how it is spelt.

A stunned silence falls over the household till the children get up and start dying, noisily, with shame. Eventually, the 14-year old son phones his dad and asks him could he please move the billboard because it is making everyone embarrassed. And soon after, the fucking thing is shifted.

I'm telling you, this sort of thing is always happening to SSA.

5 minutes of, well, not fame exactly

Thanks to Gillian & the TV community for stopping by to read the Dick post. I gather 240 hits per day is laughably small for a tranny site, but for a struggling blogger with no definite drift it means onehelluvalot.

Now I know how to get people to click onto my blog, but how to get them to read my other nonsense and be my friend? Free iPod tempt anyone?

Cheers Darlings
Your RG friend and life-long fan,

Dolores

People Are Surprising

I know someone whose jaw is about to drop.

First some history: my first son, now 14, was born to a short man with a tall ego, who goes by the pseudonym of Dick. Dick and I spent 4 years living together on the seventh circle of hell. He spent all our money on fancy shirts and lager, implied strongly that I was not beautiful, and dipped his wick indiscriminately into anyone who would have him. At that time, his only interest in our son was as a fashion accessory. Every night he would drive back from London in his MG Midget, after several hours in the pub, and I would lie in bed hoping that I would not hear the front door open and that instead he had died in a drink-driving accident. As usual, it took several years for me to deal with my misery and chuck him out, but in the end I did.

He moved to London and since then, Big Son has gone to stay for a weekend every fortnight. Dick turned out to be a better long-distance father than he was a close-up one and has kept this contact going through a girl-friend, a wife, a girl-friend who gave him another son, and another girl-friend. Time and distance have mellowed my view of him, useless self-centred bastard perhaps, but there you go, nobody's perfect.

Dick phoned me today to ask if Big Son had told me his news. "Fuck, what now?" I thought, as Big Son had not spilled any beans at all. You ready? Cos this has to be in the top ten of gob-smacking confessions.

He said "I've given up wearing boy's clothes. Now I'm wearing girls' clothes"

What, ALL THE TIME?? Yes, ALL THE TIME.

Do you have a different name? Nope, still Dick.

What have you got on now? A skirt, hold-ups and pink trainers.

How long have you kept this secret? Its been a secret from everyone since age 11.

So one day you went to work dressed as a girl, not a boy? Yup.

How did you find that much courage? I don't know.

Congratulations on being brave enough to be true to yourself. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

But my poor son. What will his nutso parents do to him next? Apparently, the last time Dick met him at the station he was dressed as a woman. Son didn't know which way was up, and cringed with embarassment at the teenage boys that point and laugh at Dick. Dick asked him, "Do you still love me?" Son said "Don't be stupid, of course I do".