Thursday, September 25, 2003
Thu 25 SeptemberLaura: Interviews (chat)
Well muggins here was on babysitter duty while mum and dad went over to help Auntie Kate and Uncle Robert do up their new massage parlour. So I did all the usual: I got Sam and Owen undressed and popped them into the bath to have a splash about … so cute. I’d just finished reading them a story and put the lights out when the door bell went.
I let in this girl, a bit older and taller than me, with long blonde hair down to the small of her back and a thin almost boyish body. She said she was called Summer – you gotta love those prostitute pseudonyms - and had come for an interview I didn’t know anything about. So I range Uncle Robert’s mobile, and he said whoops and to hold the fort.
So then Wonder turns up, saying she’s 19, but she looked younger than me with her petite figure, fair hair in plats, and bouncy B-cups. And then Angel arrives, a tall leggy real redhead – green eyes and everything. And then a nervous Emma, a blonde thirty-something feeling like who was she trying to kid as she looked at the other young girls and wondering if she shouldn’t call herself something like Chardonnay just to get into the spirit of the thing. And then a mis-named Joy, a little oriental thing with bush-baby manga eyes and nails to die for.
Well I call that a party! So I raided my Uncle and Aunts booze fridge in the garage, got the music on and started to have a laugh. So of course Kate and Robert arrived.
One by one they tottered into the kitchen to have a chat with them. They looked like they were going to the headmaster’s office. But all came out smiling and putting the last of their clothes back on.
Katie drove me and Emma home. They’d offered Emma the receptionist job. I’d said I’d help out with that, but apparently some Mother got there first and said I wasn’t to do anything that would interfere with my exams. Good receptionists are hard to find, apparently. All the others were OK, but they’d need a few more to make sure there were always a couple of girls on in the day and three in the evening. It’s all more of a business than you’d think!
Wednesday, September 24, 2003
Laura: Getting a Plan (chat)
If I knew what metaphorical knickers were, mum, I'm sure I'd be allowed to flash how and when I liked. And it is >> your << website, so you are the one who has to deliver. I'm just the *** guest star ***.
But mum ... I can't really think of anything more exciting than Auntie Kate came round and you and she went upstairs last night. I really want to keep a bit of privacy around my own ... er, self amusement. So I guess I'm a bit of failure as a cutting edge blogette. Or maybe it's a clue - I should get out more. Yeah! That sounds like a plan
Tuesday, September 23, 2003
Emily: Your Thing (chat)
Laura sweetie, you're breaking a foundamental rules of porn. You can tease, but you must deliver in the end. You can't just flash your metaphorical knickers and then walk away
Oh well, seeing my daughter finally do something I told her to has almost inspired me to get off my backside and blog a little too. Almost.
Trouble is, helping Kate and Robert out as they set up their new business, even when it's only babysitting the boys, is exhausting after work. And then there is the other thing, which I'm not going to talk about because I can't do it justice now and that would be like teasing and I'm sure you can do without us both teasing you in your search for erotic stimulation.
Monday, September 22, 2003
Laura: Your Thing (F mast)
Well it turns out that quite a few of you are interested in teenage girls masturbating - it very much is "Your Thing". Well there's a shocker.
How often? Where? What do I think about? Do I push my fingers inside me? Do I use toys? Do I like to fiddle with my bottom at the same time? Do I ejaculate? Do I pee myself? Do I do it in places where I might get caught? Do I do it in public toilets? Do I do it together with my girlfriends or my mum or my dad or my brother?
These and many other pervy questions wont be answered here. Because if you get too gynie about it, it takes away all the fun. Well, OK, that's not true. I just don't want to tell, OK? Bummer, I know, but there you go.
Sunday, September 21, 2003
Laura: Not much to tell (chat)
My mum's told me I have to write a few entries as Auntie Kate is busy with the new business, and mum is knocking herself out over some pretty little thing at her school, and chatting endlessly to some nutty dyke e-pal in Los Angeles.
I guess she thought that as I have no life I'd have plenty of time to blah blah away. But I do have a life. It's just a bit crappy, except when I'm out on a Friday night. So let's see: No money. No girlfriend. A mountain of studying. I've been looking through where to go to University, but even that's like homework. So unless tales of teenage girls who masturbate three times a day is your thing, there's not much to tell.
Sunday, September 14, 2003
Kate: Trouble up Mill (chat)
The trouble with running a stable of sex workers is girls. They're just so bloody unreliable. Two have done a runner from Blackpool. Apparently they weren't very nice to girls up there, so they just pissed off. So Robert now is scanning round to get some more. He's been offered to buy out a local Sauna and Massage Parlour, which he's up for, but I'm not keen.
We'd have to do it up. We'd have to get more girls, with the auditions that involves. We'd have to get couple of receptionists. Checkout your entries in the UK directories. And keep the whole thing going 11am to 10pm, six or seven nights a week. And then there are the "mates" who suddenly appear out of the wood wanting freebies. Just a load of stuff.
Wednesday, September 10, 2003
Kate: Poland (chat)
Just come back from Poland. What a fab place. I was really surprised. I thought it would be all drab and cabbages. But the middle of Warsaw was really nice. Pozan was a bit concretey, but some of the little towns around were really nice, and then up to their lake districk. And the weather! Phew.
Huby's gone over to Blackpool to collect our girls from their "summer season", so muggins here has to go and open up their appartment. A woman's work, yawn yawn.
Can't wait till the boys are back in school and hubby is back to his regular work routine and I can get some time to myself.
Sunday, September 07, 2003
Emily: Kate & Co Return (chat)
I'm off to the Kate's in a minute. They just got back from their second holiday. So at least I wont have to pop round everyday to feed their cats. One less thing to do.
Had a very civilised night out last night. Do don't see me often in a little black cocktail dress with my granny's pearls and a fat slap of make-up. I always feel a bit of an imposter: a tomboy at heart pretending to be glam and/or grown up. It's nice though, the looks and stares you get. The other women checking you out as a potential threat. The men talking to my boobs and - those that know me - expressing surprise that I do have legs.
Nothing "happened" though. At least not in the way you'd be interested. There's a limit to being glam on your period.
Thursday, September 04, 2003
Emily: Horiscopes (chat)
My horiscope actually says, this is a good week for teenage romances. NO! Of course **I** don't read them. Pleeeeease. No, my neighbour Cheryl, with too much time on her hands, pointed it out with a giggle. Not that I saw her next door. Oh no, that would be too easy. No, I saw her at school - she works in the School Office. How silly is that.
Well, maybe not silly. But certainly typical of an exhausting holiday that just ran away with itself. So I'm just looking for routine before I do teen romances!
Wednesday, September 03, 2003
Emily: New School Year (chat)
Argh, a new school year looms. A new naughty class to dominate. A new head to break in. A new cohort of names to learn. It'll be a sleepless night tonight: performance axniety affects teachers as well as musicians and men who've had a couple of pints - at least at the start of the year.
So don't expect much sense from me for a couple of days. And if your expectations were low to begin with, try not to be too smug.
Tuesday, September 02, 2003
Emily: Sleeping Arrangements (Fm inc menstrual)
I'd gone to bed early - practicing my back-to-school regime, when I have to get to bed very early some nights. I was all snuggled up. Alone. Anthony is on nights. Lightly asleep. Dreaming of — well I never remember, but it always seems nice.
And then I wasn't alone. There was a lump behind me as I lay on my side. I didn't hear the door or the floorboards creak. I'm not sure what semi-roused me. But I wasn't alone.
I wasn't bothered. It was either Laura or Jack. They both like to snuck into bed with me. They always have done. Laura less so these days, mainly because she often gets in so late 2 - 3 - 4 in the morning. Jack more so, since his groin-toy has started working properly.
I lay wake, listening. Often, after a couple of minutes, I'd hear the soft deep breathing of a sleeping child, and I'd feel so full of love, so perfectly motherly, I could weep — if that weren't too energetic for the middle of the night.
Well I must of begun to drift off, because the gentle poke of something blunt in the small of my back brought me round again.
There it was again, the slow hard pressing of a broom-handle into just above the start of my panties. It was Jack, and his unmistakable thirteen-year old silent chat-up line, trying to see if his mum was "interested".
His mum was not. His mum was sleepy and tired and snuggled and not really in the mood for any hanky or panky. I figured if I just lay still, with my back turned to him, he'd get the message and go to sleep - with or without doing himself quietly first.
But instead, the pokings went south. I felt my knicker-elastic being interfered with, and something large and uncompromising being slipped down the back of them.
The pokings — more in hope than in aim — where uncomfortable (boys, try it on yourself). I either had to go to the effort of telling Jack to stop it, or shift my bum up a bit so that his hard-on could find the neck of my vagina and stop trying to bruise me.
Shifting my bum seemed the smaller thing to do.
Jack, recognising cooperation when he saw it, yanked down my panties. I doubt he noticed the panty-liner. I doubt he ever considered that I was "ready for him" because I was a little bloody, rather than fantastically aroused by being poked by a blunt instrument. Actually, I doubt he hand any thoughts at all, aside from "must fuck, must fuck".
Bingo.
The hard head of his cock snuggled into the warm soft neck of my pussy. He was in. Just a bit, but he was in. Immediately he flipped from random poking search mode, into gentle invasion mode — pushing himself slowly further and further up inside me with every irresistible stroke. Not that I was resisting.
But then I wasn't helping either. I was just laying there. Waiting for him to be over and done with. Not so much fucking, as letting him masturbate using my pussy as his hand.
I gripped the side of the bed to steady myself from swaying too much at the end of my son's cock.
I listened to my small son work his big cock into his "sleeping" mummy, singing a song of pants and grunts and gasps and sighs.
I felt the heat of his hard breath on the back of my neck.
I experienced sharp prod of hip-powered fat cock-head pressing against my perineum after he'd accidentally slipped out of me, and his frantic clumsy attempts to "hide the hole" again.
And then the rhythm invasion and evacuation started up again. The slowly speeding up prod - prod - prod of a man-boy starting to lose it. The guiding hand on my hip, steadying me more, so he could poke me harder, faster, firmer.
And then Jack came. His cock stuck right up inside his mummy, gushing his sperm over my cervix in long tight spurts of ejaculation. His orgasm cries of delight ringing behind my ear. His fingers gripping my hip till they bruised.
Jack slid out of me, and lay close, breathing heavily.
I slipped up knickers back up, and repositioned the panty-liner to catch the bloody-sperm when it dribbled out of me.
No doubt Jack's cock would leave a snails trail of bloody seamen across the bed sheet, and that would need changing before his father lay down in his place after the night shift. But for the moment, Jack lay motionless behind me.
I stiffly turned over on the my other side, to face my pint-sized lover, but he'd already drunk down into a deep sleep. The sleep of the relieved and happy. And I felt so happy, so in love, so completely perfectly motherly, I could of wept — if that weren't too energetic for the middle of the night.
Monday, September 01, 2003
Emily : Warrior of the Decorating Tribe (chat)
Imagine the scene. A beautiful mature woman — winsomely played by me — naked except for a pair of old knickers (and the visible bulge of a panty liner), some socks and a pair of boots. Armed with a paint tin lid removing screwdriver, a roll of kitchen paper, a step-ladder and a paintbrush fixed to a bamboo stick with masking tape. Singing (if I can abuse that term when applied to my chaotic voice) along to "I'm every woman" hammering out from the PC. Tottering and waving my brush on a stick up the step-ladder, trying to reach the high bits above the hall picture window. Covered in drips of a soft peachy-sand coloured paint across my face, along my forearms, and a big splodge on my bare right boob.
Laura said I looked like some suburban aboriginal, a warrior princess from the tribe of decorating. She's been studying to re-seat her Maths.
Anthony said I looked more like one of those girls who gets their boobs airbrushed at Mardi Gras, but gone wrong. He's been laying a new path around the house.
Jack said will I please shut up singing. He's been playing on his playstation.
And that little tableaux of family life somehow completely summaries what we've been doing since we came back from our family holiday with Kate and Robert and the boys. Their still away, on a working trip to Poland, of all off the beaten track holiday destinations (apologises if you're Polish, but you have to admit, it's a destination for the traveler rather than the holiday maker).
So - once I've picked a new carpet for the hall and stairs, that'll be done as well as a completely redecorated living room. Anthony and I have been working like slaves, so I am sooooooo looking forward to school next week, and a rest!
Snippets of what we did on holiday to follow, once I've washed the paint of my delicate bits.