Sunday, August 10, 2003
Kate: Biorhythm (chat).
Speak for yourself Em. Sure it's hot, but I've had plenty of sex! Of course, the fact that our girls are off working at the seaside and Robert is all over me is probably just a coincidence - not. Maybe it's your biorhythms or something. Or maybe it's because it's your birthday tomorrow and you're got pre-birthday-tension.
By the way, if you're finished packing, you can always pop round and organise us. I'll be round later anyhow, to get my legs waxed and pussy trimmed.
Saturday, August 09, 2003
Emily: The Sun (chat).
I was going to do so much today. Pack. Look up interesting places to visit on the Internet. Make sure everyone's passport was in my bag. All that going away stuff. But instead, I sat in the garden with Kate, watching her naked little boys run in and out of the pool, slowly drinking non-alcoholic cocktails Robert was mixing, and having every energy cell in my body sapped away by the heat.
Of course we're all packing off the Med, just when the Med has come to England for it's once a decade peek-a-boo session.
It's been so hot, it's nearly been a week since I last had sex. I'm not sleeping well either, and thinking straight even less.
On days like this, I can't imagine why people moan about it being cold in Britain - bring it back, I say, I melting here.
Wednesday, August 06, 2003
Emily: Bits Examined (chat)
Well I've survived the minor indignity of my annual smear, pelvic exam and breast exam. All done with kindly efficiency by a rather nice looking male doctor and his slightly bored female nurse.
I can't possibly imagine what the long term erotic effect it must be on a presumably red-blooded man. Having to look up a never ending parade of fannies (English fannies, obviously, not American), attached to a set of women with a distressing variety of body shapes. Do they discuss pubic hair styling on their tea breaks? Do they have a secret language to describe how fat or droopy or curved round a woman's pussy lips are? Do they, heaven forbid, have a five star rating for cunt odour? Do they nip to the loo and jack off after a really attractive woman has spread for them?
I just hope they can keep two-faced about it: to look at me with kindness, and to look at my bits as if it where just another piece of sex meat.
Kate: Updates (chat)
Funny how the sex business is just like any other, seasonal. Robert's packed off our stable of girls to the seaside, as business is quiet here, whereas the seaside clubs and saunas do a very brisk trade, and they're glad of the loan. Which is a nice break for me. No driving the girls round to outcalls. No handling the money. No answering the phone to nervy blokes. No time wasters. Bliss.
We're off on holiday next week anyhow. The whole tribe. Almost reminds me of those summer journeys in the back of the car in the 70s when mum and dad would take us to some obscure part of England. Jetting off to the Med is so much more civilised!
Owen is like he never had an operation. Bouncing around the place. I try to keep the small dressing dry, but in this hot weather, with the boyz jumping into the pool, it's a losing battle. I can't blame him, I'm getting in a bit of pool side practice myself: tall drink, fat book, plenty of lotions, watching the sweaty gardener cop sly looks at me. All very summer.
Monday, August 04, 2003
Emily: Wet Games (FFF ws)
Well my vim, verve and vigour are returning to normal levels. But it was a mistake inviting friends round for dinner. Or at least it was a mistake not getting a carry-out from the Curry House.
But you know, I like to show off. It's a fault, I know.
Rose and Rachel joined the list of admirers of my bold use of colour and form in the new improved living room. Or were just being polite. Naaaaaa. Not Rachel, anyhow, she's a Kiwi.
Of course, one aim of the redecoration was that leather furniture and bare floors would be much easier to clear up after naughty pee games.
So we'd done nibbling on my salad nicoise and my citrus meringue tart, and I'd bathed in the warm glow of peer-group approval, it was down to some rug-munching lezzie three-some hanky-panky.
Not that anyone has a rug these days. Both Rose and Rachel are clean shaved, and I have just a small strip of blonde pubes. Which I think is a shame. Rose especially has lovely delicate fine ginger pubes. I mean, yes, your nose doesn't get tickled when eating a shaved girl out. And getting started when fisting is easier. But I can't help having a vague feeling that we should make friends with pubes again. That they are more lovely and more interesting than just the bear meat.
Anyhow, in the interests of home experimentation, we found out that it does still help to put a towel down, even with a leather sofa, when two bitches piss over your hot naked body. It just helps stop the pee going everywhere. But mopping up afterwards is a breeze.
Sunday, August 03, 2003
Emily: Men's Work (chat)
Imagine my surprise, after over 30 years of feminism — yes, how gracious of you to notice I started incredibly young — to find out that there is actually something called "Men's Work". Admittedly, it's a rather small, niche list, consisting only of sanding down floorboards. But still, to a woman who was able to cross off peeing standing up from the list of things only men can do, it's a shocker.
And I'm not all mimmsy when it comes to a spot of hard labour. I can weld a pick axe. Dangerously, true. But I look the girlie chain-gang part.
Anyhow, the great van Haankden redecoration, involving, horror — unplugging the PC and covering it with a dust sheet for four days — is done. And Anthony and I are both buggered, in a bad way. But, it does look fab. I am thrilled.
All of Anthony's queer friends have been all "OHMYGOD it's divine darling". Having a lot of gay friends really raises the bar when it comes to doing a bit of interior decorating.
The next DIY job is replacing the path round the house. Where's that pick axe gone?