Ever get annoyed? Ever feel like someone needs to be told where the dog died? Or handed a crowbar and a tub of Elbow Grease to help them pry their head out of their arse? Congratulations--you've come to the right place.

And when I'm not commenting on the latest thing to piss me off, I'm trying to figure out my own twisted life. Because, hey, I'm like that.

On a gentler note: for anyone dealing with depression, anxiety, and other assorted bullshit: You are NOT alone.

And if you're looking for a laugh, search on the key word "fuckery." It's just my little thing (as the bishop said to the actress).

Thursday, October 7, 2010

Why do they that call it THAT?

I have a cat. Most people know this. I refer to Piddy Pat at my "four-legged child," and am forever grateful I don't have to worry about paying for college.

I like my cat. Actually, I love her dearly, but I also like her. She's an odd little creature--unbelievably beautiful, independent, loyal, and highly entertaining. (There are two reasons people have cats: company and entertainment. Piddy by no means ever attains the level of pure feline showmanship that the Luckster does, but then, she's female. It's the whole Bast-groove that female cats get on.)

Anyway, cats have no concept of privacy. None what-so-freakin' ever. I have friends who, whenever they try to enjoy themselves, have to make sure the cats are NOT in the bedroom (or wherever they happen to be hoping to shag) because the cats will come and watch. One of them purrs in encouragement. The other... well...

I deal with a similar issue, although I am currently without a partner (sort of. Long story. Potential Paramour is heating up and may have to disappear from the blog; we shall see), my sex drive is that of a cat in perpetual heat.

*sigh* You know that whole "sexual peak" thing? Considering what a ridiculously horny kid I was in high school and early 20's, I had really hoped that the whole "sexual peak" thing would be a case of hit the peak and slide down into the oblivion of mentalpause.

No such fucking luck.

A woman's sexual peak is supposed to happen around 35. Now, maybe I'm just a late bloomer, but every time I think I've hit the peak and have started a lovely slide into the valley, I find myself on top of another mountain. Now, this is not necessarily a bad thing. Not necessarily. The problem comes when you can't find a partner who can match your desire levels. And your kink levels. Yeah. I mean, I don't need it to be a porn show--for fuckssake, I LIKE TO FUCK! Just good, plain, old-fashioned fucking--kiss, feel up, get hot, strip each other, go down on each other, explore a bit, and then, LET'S FUCK! Slide it in, go to town, both have a good hard cum, cuddle up, and sleep, wake up, suck, repeat.

That works for the daily routine (with the occasional blow job in the car, shag on the couch, anal in the shower... stuff like that, y'know?). It's the "healthy diet" part of the sexual relationship. The kink.. the kink is the hot fudge sundae, the prime rib, the lobster... the $100 bottle of tequila... it's the treat that reminds you how much fun life really is. It can't be the daily diet because your body and mind can't take that level of stimulation all the time--like a really fatty diet which will enlarge your waistline, liver and cause other horrible things, kink all the time isn't good for you.


Wanking is a necessity. I don't care if I'm in a relationship (I think I actually masturbate more when I'm with someone because I'm constanty aroused); I need to get off on a regular basis. I need for my body and brain to explode and not be able to anything but moan and shake for a few seconds that feel like eternity, and honestly, that rarely happens with a partner. This is not (necessarily--using that word a lot today) his fault. Sometimes it is--if you're fucking a selfish prick who doesn't give a shit, then yeah, it's his fault for being selfish and yours for putting up with him--but most of the time, it's just that you know your needs beterthan he does.

So I get myself off on a fairly regular basis. I don't need a man to make me late for work; I have toys to help there. I also have a cat who feels the vibrator is a competitor for Mom's attention and affection and feels she needs to remind me that she has a nicer purr.

Picture this: lying on the bed, vibe on the button, hands on the nips (or one hand on a nipple and the other holding relevant literature), the big build is coming, finally got just the right image to send me over... and I open my eyes to find myself nose-to-nose with a confused, slightly hurt kitty who wants to know why Mom has allowed something else that purrs in her bed.

Yeah. There is a reason I call her my four-legged child. And, like someone with kids, I have learned to compensate. I have found a way to balance the porn, play with the nipples, keep the vibe in place, keep the fantasy in place, and soothe the insecure kitty, while still managing a mind-blowing orgasm.

What can I say, I am multi-talented. I am.

Once the vibrator is turned off, Piddy fucks off and leaves me alone to enjoy the rest of my wank. I don't use a vibrating dildo, so she's OK with it. That part just confuses and annoys her, particularly the thrashing, so I get a little privacy there.


I don't get it.

I mean, I have a pussy--she weighs six and a half pounds, is covered in soft, silky fur, hates being wet, and purrs. Usually, she smells good. I have no clue what my cunt weighs, it has hair that will never be called silky unless it's been rubbed with a massage bar, and is only really happy when it's wet. About the only thing they have in common is that I try to keep it smelling good and the muscles toned.

There is no physical resemblance. Cats are beautiful creatures... cunts are... well... I think they're ugly I mean, I'm not a lesbian. The first time I was faced with the prospect of going down on a woman in my wilder, younger experimental days, my internal reaction was, "You have GOT to be fucking kidding me. That thing is NASTY!"

A cock is a beautiful thing (especially a cut one)... lovely velvety skin at the tip, veins, ridge... lovely to taste and touch and play with. A cunt... I get why some guys don't like to give oral sex. Not all women are exacting in their hygeine. The smell... not always lovely and enticing. If you've eaten the wrong thing lately, it can definitely make a difference in the taste, and one should keep flossing in the bathroom, nuff said.

There is no mystery on how to operate a cock. (Well, no mystery for me. Every man has different likes and dislikes, every man has a different little spot that will make him go wild, but the basics are the same--lick, suck, swallow, repeat steps one and two, and spread.) Operating a cunt... every woman is different. I know this because of the techniques guys have tried on me that have made other women go insane, and just made me want to throw up and throw him out.

Little point, gents: nipples are for sucking, clits are for licking. Remember that, please, if ever you present yourself for Your Empress's pleasure.

The way I discovered that I am probably the straightest woman on the planet is, after the first cum happened during a two girl threesome, after she'd eaten me, my reaction was, "Was that all?" I mean, I was expected to be satisfied.

I wasn't.

I mean, it was nice--felt good, appreciated the effort and all--but I had three holes, two of which really needed filling. NEEDED. Not just wanted, NEEEEEEEEEEDED.

Made me a bit cranky, and was glad it was a threesome because he was hard and ready. I think I hurt her feelings a little (not that I cared at that point), but I made it clear I wanted him and wanted him NOW.

I'm a simple creature.

And there's the other reason I have a problem with the cunt being called a pussy--cat's have zero patience. Anyone who has a cat will tell you, a cat has NO CONCEPT of later--they're like kids that way. A cat does not say, "meow." A cat says, very clearly, "NOW!"

A cunt, however, must be patient. That's where we have the advantage over men--a cock shows when it's wanting, visible for the world. A cunt, tucked safely within its folds, does not (at least, if you're wearing clothes).

What a lot of people forget is that, when we're conceived, we have all the building blocks for both sets of sexual organs--it's why we get hermaphrodites. When the chromosomes sort it out and the sex is determined, you either get ovaries or testicles (which means we all have balls), both get holes (one is just actually useful for more things than fluids and marking territory).

What happens to the erectile tissue becomes the interesting part.

See, with men, it gets spread over the head of the cock, and depending on how a guy is shaped, that can be a lot of real estate. And, with no exceptions that I've encountered (although I'm willing to be educated), the head is the most sensitive part, and if you know what you're doing, it's the only acceptable, popular and desired head game in a relationship.

*insert rimshot here*
Wait, I thought we were talking about...

For women... NOT so much real estate. Instead, all of that erectile tissue is concentrated into a little button, a tiny knob, that, like a uncircumcised cock, has some protection around it, and when excitement ensues, it becomes engorged.

Yes, guys, women get wood.

And it's annoying! I walk around most days, and if I was a guy, I'd have been locked up as a deviant by this point. Seriously! And it happens for no discernible reason that I can figure--I mean, the beat of the song is correct, and all of a sudden, *BING* Hello! Someone's awake!

It's annoying, dammit, because it's not like it's exactly easy to take care of it. Not like I can just casually reach down and rub it off for a bit--it takes me a while! And after a while it just starts to ache, and I get that glazed look... I swear, I'm not on drugs, I'M JUST FUCKING HORNY!

And I still don't get why they call it a pussy.

Oh, wait... yeah...


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