It’s your penis I love, not you!

Hidey Ho Lovers!

I’m sure you’re all thinking, “wait a minute, it’s Tuesday night; shouldn’t Claire be busy getting busy?” And you’re absolutely right Lovers! That is exactly what I should be doing. But sadly I remain unravaged, my bed made and in pristine condition with nary a wrinkle in sight. My bin is empty, devoid of condoms, used or otherwise and my poor little panty hamster remains locked in her cage, albeit with much less fur than yesterday. Note to self: Don’t shave unless you know for sure the man is coming! But why? Why is there no saucy sausage being offered to the beast right at this moment? Good question Lovers, one I’m sure none of you could have guessed the answer too.

The crazy fool electrocuted himself!

Don’t worry Lovers he’s ok! Obviously that was the first question I asked. He followed his sorry I can’t come I’ve been electrocuted message with a lovely photo of him in hospital with wires coming out of him every which way.

So at least I know he’s not a liar. That’s good right?

Anyways I did attempt to get him over the next day so I could take care of him, (take care of him and then extract my payment of course 😉 ) but he was of course still way too tired and shaky today. It’s a shame really, in my head I was secretly wondering if a bit of a buzz would make things more electric in the boudoir as well, but I guess I’ll never know. Probably a blessing in disguise really, if he was much better my head might explode.

But oh the dreams Lovers! The sexy sexy dreams! I’ve been so deprived lately that whenever I close my eyes, my mind delivers the most delicious smut films of all time, all in glorious technicolour. Honestly it’s scary the way I leap into bed now, I’m just so excited to get to sleep! And oh boy do I love a good Nanna nap in the afternoon. That’s when the really good stuff happens and you can still remember it for ages as you slowly come awake (pun intended.) Now I know why so many people love a good cat nap! You naughty fiends, it’s all about the sex! Those Mexican’s have the right idea. Siesta’s for all!

So, considering the only sex I’m currently having is when I’m unconscious, we’ll carry on with Rick saga. When I left you Rick and I were on a week long trial. If any arguments erupted, that was it. We had to try for a fight free week.

Pfft, good luck losers.

We began the trial on a Thursday night and on Friday things were peachy, with romantic texts and lunchtime phone calls making my day. Even better, Rick had organized a night out for us and a couple of our friends on the Saturday. I was so very happy. I hadn’t had a night out since my disastrous birthday and I was more than ready to put that behind me. So when Saturday night rolled around we all gathered at my house and began drinking.

A lot.

When we eventually made it out onto the town we were well and truly tipsy. Everyone was having a great time dancing, drinking and generally making fools of ourselves. So I thought nothing of it when one of my girlfriends asked me to step out with her for some air. I looked over to Rick, who was ensconced in an intense game of pac-man in the bars game corner, and decided to leave him to it. I would be gone for five minutes, he probably wouldn’t even notice.

Oh he noticed alright.

After taking a stroll around the block and having a girly gossip with my girlfriend we returned to the bar only to find everyone standing out the front looking annoyed.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, slightly worried

Tom, Rick’s mate, just pointed to the side of the road where Rick was sitting alone. My stomach dropped. I knew what this would be about. I had left him alone, and he wasn’t happy. For the first time though, I didn’t care. He was the one being so sensitive. I couldn’t be around him every second of every day! And so it was with not the kindest attitude that I approached him and asked what was wrong. As I suspected, he was angry at me for not telling him where I went, claiming something could have happened to me and he wouldn’t have known. I tried to keep things light and joke about it but Rick wasn’t having any of it. He stood up and started shouting at me about how I always put myself first and never considered his feelings blah blah blah. It all started to blur together for me and I stopped listening. It wasn’t until he was halfway down the street that I realized he had stopped talking.

With a start I realized the big wuss had decided to run away and was bolting down the road at a million miles an hour.


I looked on as his mates chased him down and tried to stop him. Typical, I thought, run away and cry like always.

“That’s a bit harsh.” Said my girlfriend, and I realized I had spoken out loud.

“No, that’s just Rick.” I replied “He does this a lot. I’m over it.”

Eventually the boys dragged his sorry ass back to me where we sat in a corner so we could have another one of those awesome ‘talks.’

“I’ve ruined it!” Rick wailed “I love you so much and I wrecked it!”

“Well, yes, yes you have.” I replied dryly. Rick was taken back by my matter of fact tone, but there was no point sugar coating it. “We tried. I love you too but I can’t do this anymore. We can’t even go one week without you bursting into tears. I’m sorry Rick, it’s over.”

I felt tears begin to prick behind my eyes as through my alcoholic haze the situation began to sink in. This really was it. I had thought Rick was the one, that that crazy in love feeling we had for each other would burn brightly for years, but it had flickered out in only four short months. My first real relationship was over (Charlie didn’t count. Both parties need to be single before entering into a relationship.) I really started to cry then, big heaving sobs. The girls picked me up and we got a taxi home. Through the window I could see Rick’s face, just as tear-stained as mine. I hoped fervently he would be all right by himself.

The next day I woke up feeling numb. Today was the day I had to collect my things from Rick. I wished it could have been a clean break, but I had some really cool shirts at his place and there was no way I could leave my i-pod there. And so with the heaviest of hearts I dragged myself out of bed and over to his place. He answered the door looking disheveled and miserable. I had to steel myself against his charms. I would not give in to him again. It was the right thing to do, this breaking up business. We didn’t make each other happy anymore, so we would not see each other anymore.


When a relationship breaks down there are a couple of ways to end it. The clean break, with no contact with each other for at least three months, known commonly as the he-tox. There’s the ‘let’s stay friends’ approach, which rarely works as usually one person still holds a candle for the other and lastly, there is the ‘it’s over but actually it’s not’ method. This method, while invariably being the most fun, energetic and orgasmic, is also one of the most painful ways to go. So of course Rick and I chose that way.

Things may have been over between us, but that didn’t mean we couldn’t have one last goodbye session between the sheets right? We owed it to ourselves and our fantastic sexual compatibility to have one last saucy smash out. And good god did we smash it! It was simply the best sex I had had in my life. The knowledge that it was the last time really made us savour every moment. Every feeling we’d ever had for each other, every argument, every moment went into that session. I came twice for the first time ever!

That has to this day not occurred again (not for lack of trying).

Once we were done we lay in each others arms for hours, not wanting the day to end. It was strangely the happiest we had been in weeks. No fighting or bickering about petty things, just us. Just us enjoying each other. Eventually the time came for me to start that always interesting scavenger hunt for my clothes. It didn’t help that Rick had hidden my bra to make the search take longer.

Finally though, we made the long walk from the bedroom to his front door. I wouldn’t let him walk me to my car as I probably would have stowed him in the boot as my personal pleasure toy, and of course because saying goodbye to him was one of the hardest things I had ever done. I couldn’t bear to drag it out. We said our goodbye’s and I walked away without looking back.

Two agonizing days into my he-tox I got a text from Rick, asking me to meet him for a coffee. I of course should of said no but love is fickle and so I went. We didn’t even get to coffee. We did however get it on in the back of Rick’s car. Who needs caffeine when you’ve got that? Afterwards we chatted about how much we missed each other and did a little crying before it was time to say goodbye again,

And so we developed a system. We were broken up, yes, but that didn’t stop us meeting up in any and all random places to ‘console’ each other. Each goodbye got harder than the last until I just became one big bundle of nerves, crying at the drop of a hat. If we didn’t stop this I would either have to marry the guy just to lay claim to his magical penis or surgically remove it and insert some batteries into his balls. Unfortunately neither of those options seemed very viable.

So what to do?

Claire xx

Pickup line of the week: Kiss me if I’m wrong, but dinosaurs exist right?

112 Skittles in one minute

Bonjour ma petite Amants!

That’s French people, just so you know. (Trust me I googled 😉 ) Fair warning to you Lovers, I have just popped a fairly powerful night time cold and flu tablet so I must apologise if the end of this post becomes a little slurry 😉

So how are we all? It’s pretty safe to assume your weekends are going a touch better than mine! Ever since Thursday I’ve been holed up in bed (alone sadly) with the cold from hell. I tried calling in a few favours, because let’s face it, nothing gets rid of a head ache quicker than a good bang; but alas, no-one took a fancy to the sexy phlegm. So, if you can believe it Lovers, it’s been almost an entire month since my last… tryst. And that was my obligatory birthday romp so it really doesn’t count! Luckily I have scheduled in some sexy time with Rolph of all people on Tuesday. I will of course fill you in on the details if anything… exciting happens, if you know what I mean (wink wink.) But until then it’s back to the past and back into the demise of Rick and Claire’s tumultuous love life. We left off with me driving away from him after he acted like a total ass. That about sums it up I think.

Rick called. And then he called again. And after that a few more times. I couldn’t deal with him. I had only just arrived home from his house and already there were three missed calls from him. Resolutely planning to at least try and get a good nights sleep before work, I put my phone on silent. The next morning I had thirty two missed calls.

Fuck a duck!

After my shower I listened to a few of the voice messages. He started with the sobbing. Tearful pleas of forgiveness, before serious promises of a new future and a new him. And then of course came the rage. He ranted and railed, shouting down the phone, threatening to hurt himself if I didn’t call him, then announcing he was going to the casino to drown his sorrows. Silent tears ran down my face as I listened to the messages. How did I get myself to this place? I loved him, god I loved him so much, but he was just so messed up. What was I supposed to do? What would Oprah do? I didn’t have much time to think about it as my phone began to buzz once again. With a sigh I answered, greeted by a subdued hello on the other end. I knew he hadn’t slept all night.

“Come meet me.” He begged “ We’ll go to the movies and have waffles and ice cream, just like you’re always asking. It will be a real date and everything. Please, let me take you out.”

I couldn’t believe it. After all he had done, after all the insults and hurt he had thrown at me, he thought he could fix it with ice cream? Too little too late! I quickly, (but with some difficulty) quashed my craving for my favourite chocolate almond ice cream and calmly informed him that unlike him I still had a job and had to go be at the office in ten minutes.

Ooh burn.

I knew the insult stung but it was all I could do not to scream abuse at him down the phone. But he begged, he pleaded and he cried until I finally agreed to meet him for five minutes before work. We met at the deli around the corner from my house. I figured if I was going to meet him I may as well get a good stash of lollies while I was there. I got into his car as he stared out the windscreen. He didn’t say a word.

“Well?” I asked, impatient and knowing how late I was for work already.

“Don’t rush me!” he snapped

“I have to be at work!” I hissed back at him, all my pent up anger simmering just below the surface.

“Don’t you think I know that? Jesus you can be such a bitch when you want to be!”

“Right , that’s it,” I said as I started to get out of the car. He grabbed my arm and tried to pull me back in but the venomous look I shot him stopped him in his tracks.

He looked crestfallen and my heart broke just a little to see him looking so                             pitiful.

“My Grandma died last night.” He said softly

“I’m sorry.” I said flatly. I knew it might have been a little insensitive but I just couldn’t summon up any sympathy for him. I knew they weren’t close and he had never once mentioned her in all the time we dated. Plus I was so mentally exhausted that all my emotions were completely out of synch.

“That’s all you have to say?” he asked, incredulous “ My Grandma died last night and all you can say is you’re sorry? Where were you last night? I needed my girlfriend to comfort me! You didn’t answer my calls or reply to any of my texts! Don’t you realize how selfish you are?”

I didn’t hear the rest of what he had to say as the slam of the car door cut him off mid rant. How dare he? How dare he accuse me of being the bad guy here when he was the one in the wrong? If he hadn’t been such a douche I would have been there with open arms last night, instead of crying myself to sleep over his sorry ass. I wept as I gripped the steering wheel, trying to stay focused on the road. How was I ever going to survive a day at work? I contemplated a sick day, but I knew that wasn’t an option. My boss was the doctor certificate nazi and there was no way I was dragging myself to the Doctor in this state. I took a moment in the parking lot to compose myself and frantically tore open a packet of skittles. Rick rang again and I stupidly answered it. He was in tears as usual but this time so was I, and girl tears trump boy tears any day of the week. I told him it was over and I wouldn’t put up with being blamed anymore.

I heard his breath hitch as he absorbed what I was saying to him but I had to ignore it. I had to shut off all my feelings for the next eight hours or my cranky-pants boss would fire me without a second thought. I rushed out a goodbye to Rick and hung up before he could reply. I had to sprint to the security gate in front of my office to make it inside before they closed it for the day.

Punctual bastards.

After dumping my things at my desk and jamming on my headset I logged into the computer one minute early. That annoyed the hell out of me. That was an extra minute I could have used mopping up my tears, fixing my hair, trying to form some semblance of composure and shoving in exactly 112 skittles. Preferably the red ones. Instead I was using it stuck at a desk, forced to tape my smile on one whole minute earlier. I had better be getting paid over-time, I thought to myself darkly. I took my first call of the day and all things considered I thought it went rather well. I managed to say hello and my name before having to put the poor woman on hold.

For thirteen minutes.

Small victories right? That’s what people always say when your going through a tough time. Appreciate the little things, don’t expect it to get better right away, celebrate the little steps and all that bullcrap. But it’s hard to celebrate anything when you feel your whole world has collapsed around you, so I figured I would do what rhymed with celebrate, and so I overate. On my lunch-break I raided the vending machine and stuffed my desk drawer to the brim. One hour later it was empty and I was experiencing the sugar low from hell. I sobbed through each call, barely making sense and confusing each and every customer.

When four o’clock finally came it was all I could do not to run from the office. I raced to my car, hoping I could keep the tears at bay until I reached it’s safe warm space. I was still about ten metres away when I fell apart. The pain hit me like a sledgehammer. Hard and fast, with bone crushing force, all centred right on my chest. I gasped and fell to the ground, hoping desperately nobody could see my pathetic figure crouched in the car-park. Rocking back and forth I let the tears come, cascading down my cheeks until they pooled at my feet. I knew I couldn’t stay where I was, the humiliation of being found hiding behind someone’s car would be just too much to handle on top of everything else. Standing and wiping my tearstained face, I put one foot in front of the other until I was finally at my car. I looked back at the little puddle I’d left and smiled to myself as it looked like someone had had a wank over my co-workers super sexy front tyre. But the smile only lasted a nano-second. As soon as the door was shut I was free to sob as loud and as long as I liked.

Or so I thought.

As I inhaled to let out another pitiful wail my phone blipped a reminder at me. Shit! I had booked an appointment at the accountant. I groaned, knowing that I had to go or I wouldn’t get my precious tax return. And if I didn’t get that, then I wouldn’t be able to get that delicious dress I had had my eye on for weeks. The dress that Rick would have loved. I braced myself as another wave hit. I rolled with it, letting the pain wash over and through me, trying to absorb the impact.

I gripped the steering wheel and slowly eased the car out of the carpark. By the time I reached the accountants office I had fixed my face into a relaxed yet tired expression. It wasn’t great but it would have to do; I’d never seen any accountants worth hitting on there anyways. As I stepped out of the car with my paperwork, the face that I had worked so hard on fell apart at the seams. Standing in front of the accountants, was Rick. He looked nervous and was fidgeting. He must have been dying for a cigarette but the bunch of flowers he was holding prevented him from rolling one. My heart jumped up into my throat. Why was he here? Or better yet, how did he know I would be here? After a moment he caught sight of me and hurried over to my car. He anxiously pushed the flowers at me, a look of hope on his tear-stained face. I was shocked. He had never bought me flowers when we were dating, in fact, I had never received flowers in my entire life.

“I’m so sorry.” He said mournfully. I had never seen him look so crestfallen, so utterly devastated. It actually gave me a twinge of satisfaction, to know that he was just as upset as I was. That was short lived however, as I knew I had to stay strong and reject him. He wasn’t right for me, my head knew that, now I just had to convince my stupid heart the same thing, not to mention those treacherous old loins of mine.

I took the flowers from Rick and inhaled. They smelled beautiful.

“How did you know I would be here?” I asked

“You told me last week.” He said

“And you remembered?” I asked, surprised.

“Of course.” He replied “Why wouldn’t I?”

My mind raced with possible answers to give him ‘Because you were too high on weed to remember’, ‘Because you never listen to me anymore’, ‘Because you just don’t care.’ But now I wasn’t sure what too think. He had utterly floored me with his memory. Maybe I had been wrong about everything. Here was a guy who genuinely seemed to care about me, who cared enough to remember some stupid appointment and bring me flowers. I could feel my resolve faltering and I squeezed my eyes shut to try and build my defenses backup.

Rick, as if sensing how close he was to winning me over, put his hand on my face.

“Go to your appointment.” He said softly “And when you’re finished I’ll be waiting. Then we’ll talk, ok?”

I nodded mutely, not sure I could trust myself to speak. Who was this new Rick? He was caring, kind and attentive, with not a trace of the angrier, scarier Rick I had seen that morning. I walked into the accountants and sat down to do my tax. God knows what I claimed that year, I just nodded along to everything the lady asked. She must have thought I’d lost the plot, because she rushed through it so quickly she only charged me half of what she was supposed to.

After a quick goodbye I stumbled back into the sunlight, still feeling dazed by this turn of events. Rick was waiting, just as he had promised. He opened his car door for me and I slid in, not sure what to expect. But all he did was drive me a couple of hundred metres down the road to the nearby shopping centre car-park. Were we going shopping? Turns out no, we weren’t, Rick just wanted somewhere ‘quiet’ to talk. And so, as I clutched my precious flowers close, Rick poured his heart out to me, begging for me to take him back.

It was all so much to take in, the heady scent of the flowers, Rick in such close proximity, an enormous tax return, what else could I do but give him one more chance? And so I made the horrible decision of giving him a one-week trial. If we could get through just one week, seven measly little days, without a big argument or any tears, then we would officially be a couple again. Sounds simple yes?

Quite the opposite actually.

Mon dieu! Whatever happens next? Tune in next time Lovers 😉

Claire xx

Best Bonking song: 99 Luftballons

By: Nena

Best Used: When you want to change the mood with something foreign and exotic but have no idea where to find a good song. This way you can have a good romp, bump along to a good tune you already know, and pretend she’s singing something really kinky instead of an anti war protest.

Big boys do cry… A lot

Why hello my Lovely Lovertons!

And as usual, happy hump day! Get those booties bouncing! 😉 I don’t know about you guys, but where I am right now is frigging freezing! I’m sending out countless SOS’s to my ‘special’ friends for some bed warming action but it’s so cold most of them won’t even venture outside their house! Yes Lovers, it’s a sad state of affairs when a guy can’t stir his stumps for a good scouring of the pipes!

So with all this spare time on my hands I’ve gotten very wistful, very reminiscent of ye old times and ye oldier boyfriends. And so it’s time to revisit and hopefully finish off Rick. (For those of you newcomers, read back a few posts and you’ll see exactly who Rick the scoundrel is. Oh and welcome of course!) I know I know we all love hearing about my hilarious stories like when I shit my pants or bounce off the bed whilst attempting a particularly daring move in the boudoir, but occasionally there are times where we can discuss the serious stuff. (Don’t worry I’ll try to do this quick like a band-aid and then we’ll be right back to me accidentally licking someone’s snot up while they kiss me. Urgh)

So, bear with me and we’ll get through this together Lovers!

Alrightey, we left off right after my disastrous birthday party. We’d made up, but his outburst certainly wasn’t forgotten…

After the birthday debacle, Rick was on his best behavior, at least for a while. A pattern started to develop. A pattern I was anything but pleased with. We would go out. We would have fun. And then something of no consequence would happen and Rick would burst into tears. There is nothing more pathetic than seeing a grown man weeping because he can’t find a taxi on a Saturday night.

Suck it up princess

I could never say anything or he’d cry even more. I ended up packing a fifty pack of tissues in my purse every time we went out!  Things were falling apart, and fast. I begged him to stop with the drugs, to try to slow down even, but every time something stressful hit him he was straight back to it. He started to become withdrawn, then angry for no reason and then of course more tears. I could never work out what mood he was in. He would come over for dinner and after a single comment from me about possibly getting a hair cut soon, ( seriously, the dude was starting to look homeless) he would be out the door. I had to chase him down busy highways several times, hanging out my window in the emergency lane like a psyched up golden retriever, pleading him to get in the car, to be sensible. I always got him in the car eventually, (usually by tempting him with pizza) but not before he had broken me down just that little bit more, convinced me once again that I was too harsh, too mean, too judgmental.

I tried to bring back the old times, organizing a fantastic night out for us, only to arrive at his house to find him passed out on the couch, completely comatose. When I tried to wake him up with Macdonald’s and nearly choked him with a french fry I gave up. When I arrived at Bec’s house, mascara running from my sobbing and my beautiful dress, bought just for the occasion, creased and unkempt, I knew I had to do something.

I told him I was unhappy, desperately unhappy and things couldn’t go on as they had been. He told me he would swear off all drugs then and there, and I stupidly believed him. A week later he lost his job after being caught smoking weed in the company truck. I went insane. I screamed and shouted at him. You work with chainsaws for god’s sake! I screeched. He sat, impassive and unmoving as if none of it was really happening. He truly didn’t grasp the enormity of the situation. And at the end of it all, when he did deign to speak, it turned out to be my fault. I had put too much pressure on him, his life had been motoring along fine without me and I had come along and fucked it all up. He had done so much for me and what had I done for him? Nothing apparently. That was it. I couldn’t take it any more. I couldn’t be his excuse for anything else. Summoning strength from a place I didn’t know existed, I got right up in his face and announced it was over.

We were done.

I would not be screwing up his pathetic life for another minute. Something flashed across his face and for a moment I felt truly afraid. He was angry. No, he was furious. He took a step towards me and I hurriedly stepped back. He frowned, his forehead wrinkling and took another step towards me. I stepped back again, and then I was running. I flew through the fly-screen door, my heart pounding, not sure why I was running but knowing I had to get away. I sprinted towards my car, hearing his labored breathing behind me. Fear jolted through me with each step I took. I reached my car and slung my bag around to find my keys, my hand fumbling through the pockets. I slammed into the car door as he smashed into me from behind. He grabbed my arm and ripped me around, pinning me to the car. I will never forget the look in his eyes.

For just that moment I had no idea what he was going to do. Everything was happening in slow motion, and as he raised his hand back I screamed, long and loud. The sound seemed to bring him back to the present and his arm dropped abruptly. His eyes searched mine, and it was as if he had just woken from a dream.

“You’re afraid of me?” he whispered

“Of course I am.”

He took a step backwards, repulsed by me or by his actions, I wasn’t sure which. I took a deep breath, trying to steady my racing pulse.

“I’m going home.” I said after some time.

He just looked at me, not speaking or moving. I knew I had cut him to the core with what had just happened, but he truly had terrified me and I wanted him to know it. I got in my car slowly, not wanting to bring back that scary Rick I had just seen. Driving away, I saw him sink to his knees in the dirt. I cried all the way home.

Oooh can you feel the emotion Lovers! 😉 I’ll wrap it up for you asap and hopefully by then my cold cold bed will have seen some action.

Claire xx

Pickup line of the week: You have eyes like spanners. When I look at them, my nuts tighten.

“O” what I’d give for an orgasm!

Dear God Lovers! Months! It’s been months Lovers! The big O has eluded me far too long! What did I do to deserve this shambles of a sex life? And yes, as you know I still have a sex life, quite an active one actually, although not nearly as much as I would prefer. But get this, the last four men I have unbarred the gates for have come and gone without so much as a look at the princess! They charge in on their fancy white horses, sheathed in the best quality latex money can buy, take a quick tour around the castle, pop in on the dragon for a scone or two and then are on their way! When did sexual chivalry die? Gah, it’s a travesty Lovers! Don’t get me wrong, I’m a big supporter of sex being fun even without the big finale, (nothing worse than a guy refusing to come until you do. This is going to be a long night buddy.) but occasionally you just want to throw your head back and scream your carnal thanks to the gods.

It’s probably my own fault. I’m just too nice to my men. Mostly. I have a process. I ease them into things slowly. The first few times I have sex with a new guy it’s all what they want to do. (Up to a point obviously. When they bring out the iguana and oven mitts it’s time to draw the line.) If I went in all guns blazing on the first night they’d probably run for the hills. No no, you need to lure them into a sense of security, that’s when you can start to subtly suggest “changing things up.” Now I’m pretty vanilla as far as sex goes (sad but true) partly because I know exactly what makes me come and partly because I’ve never met a man brave enough to explore new things with me. I only come on top. And I only come on top after a lot of hard and fast grinding. Ohh yeah. This seems to be an experience foreign to a lot of men. The realisation that a girl knows what she needs and doesn’t just rely on the guy and his manly prowess to bring her to that sweet release can be quite scary to the uninitiated. Plus friction burns can be a risk if they’re not man-scaped properly. 😉

But I love a lot of other things too! If a man can stay with me more than a month he is treated to dress ups, bondage, food play and all other sorts of delicious variations. I want to explore tantra, light S & M and all other manner of kinks, but the problem is I don’t want do all this with Timmy Tinder, some dude I just met an hour ago. No no, it’s all about the connection. To get to that  intense cookies and cream sex, you’ve got to appreciate the vanilla first. What is this world coming to when a girl can’t get her jollies at least once a month? Argh!

Well Lover’s I hope you enjoy your Friday night. Personally I’m off to scour the supermarket aisles for the most powerful batteries I can find. My poor old regular batt’s just can’t handle the constant use and die out far too quickly for my liking. Nothing like hitting it hard for forty five minutes only to be stopped by a dying vibrator. That’s just cruel. Until next time my Lovely’s, go get that orgasm! You earned it 😉

Claire xx

Best bonking songs: I touch myself

The Divinyls

Best used for: When there’s no bonking to be had, it’s time to take matters into your own hands. And do it just once? Christen every room you crazy horn dogs!

Blue Balls doesn’t begin to explain it!

Evening my Lovely Lovertons!

It’s the weekend! Finally! Time to slip on some heels and get out there! Or keep the heels on and stay in bed, that’s fun too! Just remember to keep an eye on leg placement, as an unexpected stiletto in the ass cheek is not a super fun experience for most men. 😉

Now when I left you I was unashamedly horny, gagging for some sexy time from my main man Rolph. But of course I was unashamedly turned town and left to awkwardly climb the stairs back to my apartment, trying to keep the now unused situation of niagra falls from exploding from between the folds of my carefully chosen panties.

Argh! I hate men!

No wait, I take it back. Not all men. Just one in particular on that chosen day.

After that debacle of a morning we arranged to meet up again on Saturday night. I sternly told myself that once he entered my room he would not be leaving for at least twelve hours. I carefully counted my scarves, making sure I had enough to tie him to the bed if he tried to resist.

Pfft, resistance is futile, I snorted to myself, practicing my knots and readying my blindfold.

So when Saturday came around, it was safe to say that I myself was pretty close to coming, just at the thought of what was to occur later that night. I stayed in bed all day to save my energy. I napped, snacked on a selection of foods that wouldn’t cause me to fart explosively at inopportune times and generally lazed around in pre-coital bliss.

Finally around five o’clock I got a message from Rolph. I squealed inwardly. This is it! The start of the sexiest Saturday ever!

“Just finished work.” it read.

I smiled and typed back feverishly “What time are you coming over?” with the obligatory winky face. I would have used something a bit sexier but as there is currently no emoji for panting like a dog waiting for an intensely delicious ‘bone’ (pun intended) the winky face will have to suffice.

So you can imagine my complete horror and shock when he texts back not with “I’ll see you in twenty minutes. Maybe longer as it’s difficult to drive with this massive boner.” as I had hoped, but instead with

“I dunno. I’m soo exhausted. Don’t think I’ve got much left in me.”

Fucking fuckity fuck!

No! How can he do this to me again? I’ve practically had to lay down plastic sheets on the bed and change my undies every twenty minutes and he bails on me now?

This. Is. Not. Right!

Oh, the things I could text him. The outpouring of sexual frustration and rage I could rain down on his phone.

But no, a lady keeps her cool. A lady doesn’t let the penis win. A lady must let the man know she is pissed in the most polite way possible.

Fuck I hate being a lady.

I ground my teeth and texted him back a demure “Ok well if you could tell me sooner next time so I don’t cancel stuff with other people.”

To this he replied with a meek “Sorry Claire I didn’t expect to be this pooped.”

Well I did! Except you were supposed to be getting pooped with me, not solo! Gah!

I felt wretched. I couldn’t even just go out and find a random shag. I was… attached. I still had feelings for Rolph and he was just so good between the sheets that any random dude just wouldn’t do. I squirmed uncomfortably, my freshly shaved juice-box itching for some action.

No, I had to end things. He was tying me up in knots and then leaving me there with no food or water. I needed more. So I carefully crafted a this-isn’t-going-to-work-but-let’s-still-have-sex-occasionally text.

” Hey so I’m getting the sense you’re not on the same page as me and that’s cool. I reckon we should just make this about a bit of fun and not much else just yet. It’s a bit one sided so we’ll just catch up whenever I guess.”

There. Done. I did it. Now to see what he says.

He’ll reply soon.

Any minute now.

Seriously he will.

What the fuck is he doing?

Finally, he graces me with a bloody reply.

“Sorry for the slow reply. I’m seriously so exhausted. Cannot think straight. Bed at 7.30 on a Saturday night (two sad faces) You’re a very lovely person and I enjoy seeing you, we’ll talk more another time. I’m too zombie like atm. Night xx”

My treacherous heart does a little flip at his compliment but my vagina beats it back down with a massive stick as she takes control. He’s going to bed? Who cares? What am I supposed to do? I slept for seven hours today trying to get ready for the sex marathon! I’ll be up for hours!

I sighed. There was nothing to be done. I just had to grin and bear it and accept there would be no sex tonight. From Rolph anyways. I texted back telling him to call me tomorrow and he replied quickly with “ok babe xx”

Maybe it would be ok. He would call me tomorrow as soon as he woke up, we would talk it out and then to make up for it I would get my reward of a bloody good thrashing.

Done deal.

The next day I woke up eager as a school girl. Had he rung? I checked my phone excitedly. My heart dropped a little as I saw nothing but the time and the picture of my cat staring soulfully back at me but I consoled myself thinking it was still early.

Sort of.

Once one o’clock came and went I started to get annoyed. Didn’t he know this was serious? I needed to talk shit out! Finally at four I texted him. He was out riding with his mates, as I knew he would be. I just stupidly thought he would call me before that, like it was slightly important.

Of course not.

At six o’clock he texted to say he was jumping in the shower and would call me as soon as he was out. My phone was on 85% but I plugged it in for more charge anyway, just in case he wanted to really talk.

Bah, what a laugh!

An hour and a half later and still no call. Had he drowned in there? I was frustrated, and not just because I had been holding it for almost an hour. I knew as soon as I went to pee my phone would start ringing. I texted him an annoyed message asking if he’d forgotten about me to which he replied that he’d been talking to his Mum and still hadn’t had a shower but would call me after.

Why did he have to be clean to talk to me? I can talk to an un-showered man! Apparently this wasn’t up for discussion and after a long twenty minute wait my phone finally rang. Ok, this was it, time for a big deep and meaningful chat. Let’s talk about our needs, our wants, our desires.

I picked up and answered with a tentative “Hello?”

“Hey, what’s up?”

What’s up? What’s up? I’ll tell you what’s up Mr! You have one sexually frustrated woman on the end of the line here and your blase attitude is not doing you any favours! If you were here the old grab, twist and pull method would be in serious consideration and you would be experiencing some serious pain!

I calmed myself and answered, “Not much, you?”

He babbled on about work for a few minutes before we finally got down to business. I expected a bit of a long talk after I told him how he wasn’t giving me enough and how I felt like I was doing all the work and all that. Instead I got “Babe, you just need to relax. Just chill.”

And that was it. Done. Finished. I listened to him for a few more seconds before completely tuning out. Time for a new man methinks. We said our goodbye’s with him saying we would catch up ‘soon.’ No set date, no nothing.

As soon as I hung up I downloaded Plenty of Fish and Tinder.

And then I popped all three Fifty Shades books onto my Kindle.

If it was going to be a long night, at least I could make it fun 😉

Claire xx

Pickup line of the Week: Keep calm and take your pants off.

I rushed my waffles for this?

Holy guacamole Lovers!

What an emotional roller coaster this week has been! I’m sure you’ve noticed my lengthy absence from posting, and I apologise if any of you were hanging on the edge of your seats for details but so much has happened! I’ll dive straight into it and you can see how I was wrongfully coerced into shoving down delicious waffles at the speed of light.

So, the sex is great, the boy is fab and the penis is perfect. What could go wrong? Turns out the dating gods aren’t finished playing their sadistic games with me just yet. Just when I thought I had found the perfect man who hates triple j, loves chocolate and has abs I could grate cheese on, things all have to go tits up.

After the ute debacle we arranged to meet up on Tuesday night for a much more successful (and hopefully bed ridden) encore. I have Wednesday’s off for ‘study’ and he couldn’t work because of that pesky old neck brace, so in my mind it was going to be an all night sex session. As soon as the clock ticked over to 4.30 I sprinted out of work to make my early train. I burst through the door at home and it was shit, shower and shave all the way. I was feeling good.

So it came as a bit of a disappointment when Rolph called telling me he wouldn’t be over until later that night. I shushed my screaming loins and calmly told him that this was fine, all the while trying to douse the flames between my legs that threatened to set the couch alight. We arranged for him to come over at 9.15pm, which meant I had four hours to kill…

Longest four hours of my life!

And of course there was absolutely nothing on tv so I spent the majority of that time having multiple showers, pacing the hallway, stalking the cat and seeing if I could creep up on him and stalking Rolph’s facebook. Finally though, finally 9.15 came!

And went…

By quarter to ten I was almost out of my mind. I had texted him at 9.30 asking if he’d left yet. Then I’d called ten minutes later. No reply to either of them. What was he doing to me? Eventually my phone rang and I pounced on it instantly, ironically terrifying the cat I had been so desperately trying to suprise all night.

Turned out Rolph was running late but he was on his way (thank god.) I let out the breath I hadn’t realised I was holding and told him to drive safe. “And fast,” screamed my brain, but luckily I was able to keep that thought to myself.

I’d already decided on my plan of attack for the night. Every time we saw each other I would throw myself at him and passionate kisses and sexy time would ensue, but this time I would let him do the throwing. I wanted to know if it was all me or if he was really as attracted to me as I was so obviously to him. When he finally knocked on my door I forcefully restrained myself from ripping off his belt with my teeth and instead greeted him with a very chaste kiss.

On the mouth of course you dirty minded fiends! 😉

I led him to my boudoir (where I had artfully dimmed the lights to just the right brightness. Trust me I had four hours to get it right.) and proceeded to chat to him whilst feeding him fancy chocolate. Oh yes, aphrodisiacs all the way!

But nothing.

I’m talking g-rated, Sunday school My Little Pony bullshit. Just boring old chats. He didn’t even kiss me! I pouted inwardly, frustration getting the better of me. Why hadn’t he lunged at me in an attempt to roger me silly? Why wasn’t I at this moment getting a good seeing too? I hung on to my resolve by the skin of my teeth. I had to know if he had any passion under those muscles. It was all well and good being great in bed, but once in a while a girl wants to be spontaneously fucked against the fridge for no apparent reason. This wasn’t going to work if it was always me coming on to him and he just lay back and enjoyed it. Although I’m sure that sounds like a perfect relationship to a lot of men out there.

Finally I snapped. Why hadn’t he kissed me? I demanded an answer from him. Was I not sexy enough? Did I wear the wrong underwear? Did he need more chocolate? To this he replied with a lack-lustre “Oh I’m just not much of an initiator.”

Pig’s ass!

I didn’t believe him at all, and the hormones rushing through my body probably didn’t help my mood. It was at that moment that Rolph thought it would be appropriate to mention my ‘crazy eyes’ as he called them.

Side note: I have a bit of an expressive face and friends have likened me a little to Jim Carrey. Great for making people laugh? Yes. Good for the throes of passion? Negative.

So Rolph had a good old laugh about how crazy my eye’s were, a point he was not to know but that I had always been sensitive about. This did not go well.

“What do you want me to do?” I vented “They’re part of my face!”

Oh yeah, this night was going exactly as planned.

After I finally got him to shut up about my facial features, he decided to roll over and go to sleep.

Why god, why? Why do you punish me in such unjust ways? I had a gorgeous, if slightly annoying man in my bed and he was now reduced to nothing more than a snoring hot water bottle! I glared up at the ceiling, unleashing my wrath upon the unsuspecting beams.

Tomorrow, I thought, tomorrow I get my revenge.

And I did!

After a long talk about how important passion was to me and how occasionally I would like to be bent over the odd piece of furniture, we came to an agreement. Or at least I think we did. I can’t really remember because that was when we started to have sex. Happy days!

Now the thing about having sex with Rolph is that though it feels amazeballs, at the moment it doesn’t last overlong. Now don’t get me wrong, he’s no premature pete, he’s just not long distance larry either. The problem is that he gets me so turned on, amazingly so, and then he comes and we’re done. This wouldn’t be an issue if we went for round two soon after, but every time I’m foiled in my attempt! The first time he was a time bomb on sleeping pills and this time he was starving for some breakfast.

Nothing better for two hungry individuals than waffles right? I agreed to go and get breakfast on one very specific condition. That we have sex again the moment we return home. Rolph giggled and agreed. So we cleaned up and headed down the street for said waffles. I could barely think though. My orgasm was iminant, as soon as these damn waffles were out of the way. Then he would be mine again, naked and resplendent in my bed.


So as soon as those waffles hit the table I was into them. Yes it may not have been the most lady like of spectacles but hey most guys like a girl who can eat right? In just a few minutes I downed the waffles, licking a few drops of chocolate sauce off the plate for sexy effect. After what seemed like an age Rolph finished his as well. I grabbed his hand and yanked him out of the cafe, my pulse hammering right near where my waffles would be heading later. We jumped in the car and were back at my place with in minutes. I was practically squirming with excitement, so you can imagine my horror when Rolph spoke these six words,

“I’d better be heading off then.”

What the fuck?!

“Excuse me?” I asked, gobsmacked. My mouth, which at this moment was supposed to be filled with his cock, hung open, aghast at his words.

He shrugged. “I’ve got a lot of stuff to do today. You know…” he finished weakly.

My brain was about to explode, never even mind what was happening downstairs. I couldn’t compute what he was saying.

“But, but, but…” I babbled, my mouth still confused to be able to form more than that. Finally I said “But you don’t have to stay! I’m not asking for much! Just do me against the door, technically that means you’re not even coming inside!”

He laughed and shook his head.

This was funny to him? How could he do this to me?

“You promised!” I cried, completely distraught.

“Don’t worry,” he said with a grin “I’ll see you on the weekend. It’s only a few days away.”
Days? He wanted me to wait days? It was only with a supreme effort that I managed to keep the tears at bay. Instead I used the word all of us women rely on when shit gets real.


And with that I slid out of the car, whimpering slightly as the vibration of the seat did tantalizing things to my terribly wanting honeypot.

I shut the door and flounced away, feelings deeply hurt and cave of wonders firmly shut down.

What was to become of me?

Claire xx

Pickup line of the week: Your Dad must be drug dealer, cause you dope!