Sleeping with Married Men

If anyone asks why I slept with the married TV presenter (Mr. TVP) or Mr.MusicBiz (not married but has serious girlfriend and a kid) my answer is: because I could- and because life is sometimes boring; and sleeping with a celeb whether married or not IS quite exciting. For a brief period of time it made me feel special.

Do I feel guilty about sleeping with them when they were married? I do feel a lot of sadness and guilt about sleeping with the BFE, who was married, but that is a different situation meant for a different blog post.

Do I feel guilty about sleeping with Mr. TVP and Mr.MusicBiz I know I probably should feel guilty but I don't. These men were serial cheaters. I was neither the first nor last woman they cheated with. On top of that I was aware that they were using me. I wasn't the love of their lives. I wasn't the woman they were going to fall in love with. I wasn't there ride or die chick. I was simply a girl with a pretty face and a healthy sexual appetite who was in the right place at the right time. Any girl could have filled my position. I was used for sex and disregarded.

That probably sounds more harsh than it should. Those men on the surface were very kind to me and I don't begrudge that. When it comes down to basics, the only thing they wanted was sex. They probably also wanted/needed their ego stroked.

So knowing that I was being used, why would I do it? Part of the reason I slept with these married and famous men was because I was using them too. I was using them to inflate my ego. I was using them for sex. I was using them for blog material; and believe me I got LOTS out of it.

At the end of the day they were using me. I was using them. Let's call the whole thing off!

If anyone wonders why Tiger Wood's mistresses slept with him, I'll bet you dollars to donuts that their motivation was similar.

Chosing Linux over Prostitution

Never take a job just for the money. I did and I'm sort of regretting it.

I've been out of work for a couple months now. I've had plenty of interviews, but I'm just not able to seal the deal. Anyhow, I accepted a contract position at a TV company here in Aberdeen. It feels like such a small town here.

Make no mistake, this is no glitzy London position. I'm not doing producing as I have in the past, I'm doing something far more rudementry. I'm doing tech work. I was hoping my days of tech work were behind me.

When the chips are down, some women turn to prostition, I turn to Linux. I am configuring video severs and web services.

One thing I find REALLY annoying is that right now I'm not working with live video streams. This means that we are using video loops instead. I am watching the same 3-minute video loop over and over again. Well, none other than Mr.MusicBiz makes an appearance in the video loop. Things ended really well between us, so there are no hard feelings- it's just weird to see him on TV over and over and over again.

I find this video work really easy to do. I also find it really unchallanging and boring. The only reason why I took this job was because there was nothing else on offer and I was more or less desperate. Doing this position in London would make me sort of desperate-- butthe fact that this position is in Aberdeen and I've had to stay in a B&B makes me extremely desperate. Also, what does it say about Scotland that they can't find anyone here to do this work?

The office I'm in is so nondescript and boring, it must have been designed by a man; Most likely the man that deisgned Windows 3.11.

The office is in a nondescript building. The building looks just like ten other buildings in the immediate area. It's not even in Aberdeen proper; it's set out in the 'burbs so you have to drive here.

There are about 50 people here, half of which are Scotish. The guy that sits next to me is Welsh. And the only other girl at the company sits across from me. She's Pakistani, with a thick accent. Between her, the Welsh dude next to me and 25 Scotish people around the office i cannot understand a single thing people are saying!

I feel really embarraasssed to ask people to repeat themselves. I have already said, "Can you repeat that?" about twenty times today. They must think I'm really thick! I think they are also really confused why I came up here from London- as they all seem to want to go down to London to work.

One good thing about working in TV technology is that I'm alwasy surrounded by men. My God, if I were single I'd have the pick of the litter. There is only one other girl here and she's a married minger. (I know, I'm being cruel.)

The B&B I stayed in last night was OK. I had trouble sleeping. I miss my boyfriend. In a peverse way, I think it's good that I'm getting away for a few days. Being away from him makes me realize how much I miss him and love him.

Anyhow, I better get back to work. The video servers await!

Good News, Bad News...

The good news: I’m getting married! November 7, 2009
The bad news: I have no idea who the groom is!

Since my neat death experience I’ve been re-evaluating a few things in my life. I’ve come to a few decisions:

• I’m tired of just sleeping around. So I’m gonna stop doing it, with a very few exceptions. (Mr. MusicBiz being one of them)



• I don’t want to sleep with a lot of guys. I want to sleep with 1 guy for a sustained period of time.



• I’m now looking for a long-term relationship that will hopefully ultimately lead to marriage.

My goal is to be married by November 7, 2009. Why that date? It’s sort of random, but I figure I’ll need a year to get engaged and another 6 months to plan out he wedding. Who knows, maybe none of this will work out ot plan. The important thing is, I finally have a plan.

So from now on this blog will be about my great husband hunt.

Fucked Hard

Fucked Hard

Guess who just left my apartment? None other than Mr. MusicBiz. He’s so fucking sexy. I love that I can smell the remnants of his cologne in the T-shirt I’m wearing. I am going to masturbate tonight, vibrator in one hand, and sniffing my T-shirt with the other.

Surprisingly he’s still in London. And even more surprisingly he had time to come visit me again. He arrived at my flat around 7:30

I’m still in my work clothes when he arrives: Tight titty-hugging H&M pink V-neck T-shirt and brown Benetton mini-skirt. He says hello in the best way: by kissing me in the foyer of my apartment. We continue kissing as we walk into the lounge. He notices the bathtub filled with water as we walk past the bathroom I tell him how I was going to take a bath.

I didn’t have time to eat before he came over. Just before he arrived I was on the iTunes store buying 10 of his songs. I created a special playlist just for him. It was going to be a mix of the songs I bought, along with the ones of his that I already had in my collection. On each previous visit with him, his songs never seem to play. I’m thinking that the “random” feature on iTunes isn’t really that random. So this time I wanted to hear his music. 1. Because it’s damn good and 2. Because I want him to know that I appreciate his music. So I wanted to hear his stuff all night long. Is that weird? Would that be considered narcissistic for him? Would he actually sing along while we’re fucking? Or would he be thinking about his time in the recording studio? And if he’s thinking about the recording studio while he’s fucking me does that mean I’m doing a bad job fucking? Maybe I’m thinking about this a bit to much.

I order take out from an Indian place around the corner. I don’t have any money in my wallet, so I have to run down stairs to get some cash for the food. Mr.MusicBiz kindly offers to pay so I don’t have to go downstairs. I feel bad accepting because I don’t want to give the impression that I’m the sort of girl who expects things to be bought for her. I’m not a leach. Sure, gifts are nice, but generally, I’m the sort of girl who can take care of herself.

We keep kissing. He starts feeling up my breasts. Oh shit! I am wearing my uncool bra! It’s the brassiere equivalent to “Granny pants.” My boring whit e Marks & Spencer’s bra with no underwire. The bra is that I wear when I know I’m not getting laid. Ooops! Of course I‘d be loathe to show any guy this bra. Why didn’t I change when I got home? I have SO MANY sex bras and only one uncool one.

He's not too crazy about my playlist idea, so we end up listing to a bunch of tunes that had some meaning to me in August 2006.

We move onto the sofa. Luckily Doggums is away at the crèche so we don’t have worry about her jumping all over us. Mr.MusicBiz sits on my couch. I sit on his lap. My skirt is really short and I’m not wearing any knickers. I’m sitting on Mr.MusicBiz’s lap. We’re kissing. He’s lifting up my skirt and fingering my clit. We spend a few minutes kissing. I then get up and go to the bathroom. I take of my shirt, bra and skirt. I slip into the bathtub. I make sure that my pussy and other parts are nice and clean. My bath lasts just under 10 minutes. I put on my plush pink terry cloth and beckon Mr. MusicBiz

Before I can even dry off, Mr.MusicBiz backs me onto the bed. My bathrobe is open but still draped around my shoulders. Mr.MusicBiz lowers his head and immediately goes down on me. I have small orgasm while he’s licking my clit. His tongue soon explores my pussy, going in and out of my hole. His tongue explores further. He spends lots of time rimming me; He sticks a finger inside. It feels slightly uncomfortable, but I guess I have a ways to go.

Following my tongue-bath, Mr.MusicBiz mounts me. His cock thrusts inside me. Mmmmmmm.. God, it feels good. He pumps me hard and harder. We start off in the missionary position. He passionately kisses me on the mouth. He cums after ten minutes in me. I was secretly hoping that the food would come first. But whatever, not a huge deal.

We sit and watch Grand Designs, followed by an episode of Curb Your Enthusiasm Series 4. Sometimes we talk. Sometimes we have moments of silence. Sometimes I ask him questions about his kids and life in LA. Sometimes I ask him about meeting other celebs: Yes, he’s met at least one of the Beatles. Yes, he’s met a couple of the Stones. He’d never tour with Amy Winehouse. He’s not keen on Keane, Madonna, the Chilli Peppers nor Henry Rollins. He thinks Amy MacDonald is fab. Every time he mentions her name I think about bumping into her and her wide face at the Digital Music Awards. But even our moments of silence are comfortable moments.

I tell him that I think he’s a natural-born helper. I know him as an Individual who is quite caring and quite giving. He’s generally easy-going and easy to be with. He’s also just a nice guy.

While we sit on the sofa I think about his life in LA; how different it must be from here. I think about his kidney-shaped swimming pool and the Santa Ana winds that blow against palm trees in his front yard. There is probably a maid, and a gardener; A nanny and a pool boy; A personal assistant and manger. There is probably a home-gym so that his actress girlfriend can keep in shape without leaving home. Between the celebrity friends and the VIP rooms I wonder, what the hell is he doing here with me?

Yeah, I know I’m a good fuck, but surely there are a lot of good fucks in Los Angeles

He gives me the impression that his life at home is well-oiled machine. Whether he is there or not, life goes on. And even when he arrives back home, he’s more of an interloper rather than an essential piece of the puzzle; It seems ironic. Without him, there’d be no family, yet now the family functions perfectly even perfunctorily with out him.

I try to detect some sadness around this fact, but there was none forthcoming. He seemed resigned to the fact that, that’s how his life is now. He wasn’t resigned in a forlorn way. On the contrary, he was quite practical, matter-of-fact and accepting of his circumstance.

If anything, what I detect in him, more or less, is boredom; a lack of challenge. There is no new big conquest. He’s a natural-born helper yet his ability to help at home is no longer needed. His own family has made him obsolete; yet the situation isn’t miserable. At it’s worst it’s “acceptable,” sexless and on occasion, lonely. It’s not miserable enough to make him leave.

So here he is, Mr.MusicBiz a man in limbo. I’m reminded of that quote from Nikki Giovanni: "We love because it's the only true adventure."

What I think he needs:
1. To be needed; to be able to help; to contribute more than a pay cheque to his family unit.
2. To do something to rekindle his sense of adventure; whether this be through, work, sex, love, charity, etc.
3. For someone to be there for him.

Then again, I could be wrong.

We turn to More 4 to watch the new season of Curb Your Enthusiasm. For the first time that night, he puts his arm around me. I rest my head on his should. Slowly my hand creeps down to his crotch. First I start rubbing it over his jeans. Soon he unbuttons his jeans exposing his hard cock. I lean my head down towards it and slowly take his cock into my mouth.

I vary speeds, sometimes licking the tip with my tongue. Then I engulf his entire shaft into my mouth. He starts fucking my mouth. I almost gag at one point. I slowly ease off.

He takes his jeans off. Then he takes his underware off. He climbs on top of the sofa. I open my legs. He thrusts his cock into my pussy. Mmmmmm feels so good. He starts thrusting me, harder and harder.

I’m trying to think of an occasion where I got fucked harder? I’m not sure if one exists? Maybe with the BFE in Brazil, but even that was different. In Brazil it seemed as if the BFE was fucking me to vent his anger. It wasn’t so much about sex or love. He was screwing me literally and figuratively! It was easier for him to vent his frustrations at me by shagging the living daylights out of me. I guess that’s why the asphyxiation element of it makes sense. But not to dwell on bittersweet times…

Mr.MusicBiz shags me so fucking hard. I don’t think anyone’s cock has been so deep within me. His hard cock in my wet pussy feels fantastic. I love it. I love ever minute of it. My legs are spread open and in the air. As he thrusts into me, I thrust back. We’re fucking so hard that our bodies slap together, making a loud slapping thud each time we make content.

He pulls out. I ask him if he came. He said no. He’s not sure if he has it in him. I give his cock a five-minute break then I started sucking on it again.

As it grows closer 11:30, Mr.MusicBiz assembles his belongings. We hug, kiss and say our good-byes. Before he heads out the door, he reminds me to buy his single when it's release in the next couple weeks.

He's left me with some great fucking memories. I don't know when I'll see him again?. I am, however, sure to see him in the top 10 very soon. This is good news, because he's in my top 10 as well.

Part 4 of “I Fucked him Up the Ass” coming tomorrow. Sorry for the delay.

Fucked Hard

Fucked Hard

Guess who just left my apartment? None other than Mr. MusicBiz. He’s so fucking sexy. I love that I can smell the remnants of his cologne in the T-shirt I’m wearing. I am going to masturbate tonight, vibrator in one hand, and sniffing my T-shirt with the other.

Surprisingly he’s still in London. And even more surprisingly he had time to come visit me again. He arrived at my flat around 7:30

I’m still in my work clothes when he arrives: Tight titty-hugging H&M pink V-neck T-shirt and brown Benetton mini-skirt. He says hello in the best way: by kissing me in the foyer of my apartment. We continue kissing as we walk into the lounge. He notices the bathtub filled with water as we walk past the bathroom I tell him how I was going to take a bath.

I didn’t have time to eat before he came over. Just before he arrived I was on the iTunes store buying 10 of his songs. I created a special playlist just for him. It was going to be a mix of the songs I bought, along with the ones of his that I already had in my collection. On each previous visit with him, his songs never seem to play. I’m thinking that the “random” feature on iTunes isn’t really that random. So this time I wanted to hear his music. 1. Because it’s damn good and 2. Because I want him to know that I appreciate his music. So I wanted to hear his stuff all night long. Is that weird? Would that be considered narcissistic for him? Would he actually sing along while we’re fucking? Or would he be thinking about his time in the recording studio? And if he’s thinking about the recording studio while he’s fucking me does that mean I’m doing a bad job fucking? Maybe I’m thinking about this a bit to much.

I order take out from an Indian place around the corner. I don’t have any money in my wallet, so I have to run down stairs to get some cash for the food. Mr.MusicBiz kindly offers to pay so I don’t have to I feel bad accepting because I don’t want to give the impression that I’m the sort of girl who expects things to be bought for her. I’m not a leach. Sure, gifts are nice, but generally, I’m the sort of girl who can take care of herself.

We keep kissing. He starts feeling up my breasts. Oh shit! I am wearing my uncool bra! It’s the brassiere equivalent to “Granny pants.” My boring whit e Marks & Spencer’s bra with no underwire. The bra is that I wear when I know I’m not getting laid. Ooops! Of course I‘d be loathe to show any guy this bra. Why didn’t I change when I got home? I have SO MANY sex bras and only one uncool one.

We move onto the sofa. Luckily Doggums is away at the crèche so we don’t have worry about her jumping all over us. Mr.MusicBiz sits on my couch. I sit on his lap. My skirt is really short and I’m not wearing any knickers. I’m sitting on Mr.MusicBiz’s lap. We’re kissing. He’s lifting up my skirt and fingering my clit. We spend a few minutes kissing. I then get up and go to the bathroom. I take of my shirt, bra and skirt. I slip into the bathtub. I make sure that my pussy and other parts are nice and clean. My bath lasts just under 10 minutes. I put on my plush pink terry cloth and beckon Mr. MusicBiz

Before I can even dry off, Mr.MusicBiz backs me onto the bed. My bathrobe is open but still draped around my shoulders. Mr.MusicBiz lowers his head and immediately goes down on me. I have small orgasm while he’s licking my clit. His tongue soon explores my pussy, going in and out of my hole. His tongue explores further. He spends lots of time rimming me; He sticks a finger inside. It feels slightly uncomfortable, but I guess I have a ways to go.

Following my tongue-bath, Mr.MusicBiz mounts me. His cock thrusts inside me. Mmmmmmm.. God, it feels good. He pumps me hard and harder. We start off in the missionary position. He passionately kisses me on the mouth. He cums after ten minutes in me. I was secretly hoping that the food would come first. But whatever, not a huge deal.

We sit and watch Grand Designs, followed by an episode of Curb Your Enthusiasm Series 4. Sometimes we talk. Sometimes we have moments of silence. Sometimes I ask him questions about his kids and life in LA. Sometimes I ask him about meeting other celebs: Yes, he’s met at least one of the Beatles. Yes, he’s met a couple of the Stones. He’d never tour with Amy Winehouse. He’s not keen on Keane, Madonna, the Chilli Peppers nor Henry Rollins. He thinks Amy MacDonald is fab. Every time he mentions her name I think about bumping into her and her wide face at the Digital Music Awards. But even our moments of silence are comfortable moments.

I tell him that I think he’s a natural-born helper. I know him as an Individual who is quite caring and quite giving. He’s generally easy-going and easy to be with. He’s also just a nice guy.

While we sit on the sofa I think about his life in LA; how different it must be from here. I think about his kidney-shaped swimming pool and the Santa Ana winds that blow against palm trees in his front yard. There is probably a maid, and a gardener; A nanny and a pool boy; A personal assistant and manger. There is probably a home-gym so that his actress girlfriend can keep in shape without leaving home. Between the celebrity friends and the VIP rooms I wonder, what the hell is he doing here with me?

Yeah, I know I’m a good fuck, but surely there are a lot of good fucks in Los Angeles

He gives me the impression that his life at home is well-oiled machine. Whether he is there or not, life goes on. And even when he arrives back home, he’s more of an interloper rather than an essential piece of the puzzle; It seems ironic. Without him, there’d be no family, yet now the family functions perfectly even perfunctorily with out him.

I try to detect some sadness around this fact, but there was none forthcoming. He seemed resigned to the fact that, that’s how his life is now. He wasn’t resigned in a forlorn way. On the contrary, he was quite practical, matter-of-fact and accepting of his circumstance.

If anything, what I detect in him, more or less, is boredom; a lack of challenge. There is no new big conquest. He’s a natural-born helper yet his ability to help at home is no longer needed. His own family has made him obsolete; yet the situation isn’t miserable. At it’s worst it’s “acceptable,” sexless and on occasion, lonely. It’s not miserable enough to make him leave.

So here he is, Mr.MusicBiz a man in limbo. I’m reminded of that quote from Nikki Giovanni: "We love because it's the only true adventure."

What I think he needs:
1. To be needed; to be able to help; to contribute more than a pay cheque to his family unit.
2. To do something to rekindle his sense of adventure; whether this be through, work, sex, love, charity, etc.
3. For someone to be there for him.

Then again, I could be wrong.

We turn to More 4 to watch the new season of Curb Your Enthusiasm. For the first time that night, he puts his arm around me. I rest my head on his should. Slowly my hand creeps down to his crotch. First I start rubbing it over his jeans. Soon he unbuttons his jeans exposing his hard cock. I lean my head down towards it and slowly take his cock into my mouth.

I vary speeds, sometimes licking the tip with my tongue. Then I engulf his entire shaft into my mouth. He starts fucking my mouth. I almost gag at one point. I slowly ease off.

He takes his jeans off. Then he takes his underware off. He climbs on top of the sofa. I open my legs. He thrusts his cock into my pussy. Mmmmmm feels so good. He starts thrusting me, harder and harder.

I’m trying to think of an occasion where I got fucked harder? I’m not sure if one exists? Maybe with the BFE in Brazil, but even that was different. In Brazil it seemed as if the BFE was fucking me to vent his anger. It wasn’t so much about sex or love. He was screwing me literally and figuratively! It was easier for him to vent his frustrations at me by shagging the living daylights out of me. I guess that’s why the asphyxiation element of it makes sense. But not to dwell on bittersweet times…

Mr.MusicBiz shags me so fucking hard. I don’t think anyone’s cock has been so deep within me. His hard cock in my wet pussy feels fantastic. I love it. I love ever minute of it. My legs are spread open and in the air. As he thrusts into me, I thrust back. We’re fucking so hard that our bodies slap together, making a loud slapping thud each time we make content.

He pulls out. I ask him if he came. He said no. He’s not sure if he has it in him. I give his cock a five-minute break then I started sucking on it again.

As it grew closer 11:30, Mr.MusicBiz assembled his belongings. We hugged, kissed and said our good-bye.

I don’t know when I’ll see him again, but he has, for sure, left me with some fucking good memories.

Part 4 of “I Fucked him Up the Ass” coming tomorrow. Sorry for the delay.

Strap-ons, Sex Toys and Up the Arse

"I’m talking about fucking someone up the ass with strap-ons and you can’t even tell me what sex toy you bought!?!"

Wanda and Anjelika chat about: Strap-ons, Mr. MusicBiz, Masturbating, Usually tight sphincters, Vibrating dildo, Anal Toys, Make-overs, Strap-ons, Masturbating, Rimming, Wanda’s Message to the BFE.

I Fucked Him Up the Ass (Part 3)

Mr.MusicBiz and I arrive at the seafood restaurant just after 6PM. The restaurant is nearly empty when we arrive and I wonder if it was really at all necessary to have made reservations?

Despite my request to be seated somewhere romantic, the waitress seats us in a corner halfway between the kitchen and the door. Since there was no one else there, I supposed it hardly mattered where we were sitting.

We skip ordering wine and opt for one bottle of still and one bottle of sparking water. For an appetizer we order a dozen oysters. Yum! Not that we need anything else to get us in the mood, but I wanted to make Round 2 even better than round one.

Our conversation ranged from light and superficial, to deep therapy-like moments. Mr.MusicBiz tells me he’s been listening to my podcasts and that he’s very concerned that I want to try cocaine. He warns me in a stark foreboding manner that indicates that perhaps at one time he was addicted to the stuff. I don’t push the question, however. Later in our conversation he does mention a stint in rehab; but even that nowadays seems de rigueur for anyone in the music industry.

He chats frankly and openly about his ex-wife, a star in her own right. I think back several years ago at having bumped elbows with her at an aftershow party in Kentish Town.

He chats about the girl he’s been living with in LA, an actress (of course!). He says they’re both busy and rarely have time for each other ergo rarely have time for sex. That she’s constantly working on a commercial or pilot or something. If it wasn’t for the writers strike they wouldn’t have had sex at all in 2007.

He mentions the kid he has with her. I observe that he talks about his kid with an eerie distance; as if it’s HER kid not his; as if this kid is an accessory to his life not his whole life. And even though being a dad gives him that warm feeling of being grounded and settled, it seems as if he could really give or take the parent thing. He probably wouldn’t even have pets if he could help it. All of that information is neither a surprise nor turn-off to me. What I see before me is a man at a cross roads. I am impressed by his honesty and kindness.

Despite the acclaim, fame and awards he is surprisingly a normal guy, who at his very core wants the following three things:
1. To feel needed.
2. To have a fulfilling sex life.
3. Passion & freedom

The conversation lightens up a bit and we chat about a few names in the music business: Simon Cowell, Amy Winehouse, Stephen Tyler, Lily Allen, etc. Feeling cheeky, I ask him why he’s never tried a strap-on before? He looks to his left, wondering if the guy at the table next to us has heard. He coyly says, “I don’t know.”

“We’ll have to try it out once we get home,” I say.

We finish our dinner. He kindly pays. We head outside and the doorman hails a cab for us.

In the cab ride home, I’m grabbing at his cock the whole way. He sighs in pleasure. He reaches up my skirt and tries to finger me, but my pantyhose are blocking the way. Damn!

I rub his cock even more. He tries not to let on to the cab driver that anything is happening but I think the driver knows. We get dropped in front of my flat. We race upstairs and are excited to get Round 2 started.

I Fucked Him Up the Ass (Part 2)

Mr.MusicBiz hikes up my skirt as he flicks his tongue against mine. His mouth is all over my face. He’s passionate, yet controlled. He smells great. His cologne is so sensual. His mouth tastes vaguely like mints. He grabs the back of my head with one hand and pushes my mouth deeper into his

We spend a few more minutes kissing then we move on to the waterbed. He sits on the edge of the bed and takes off his shirt, then his trousers, followed by his black Y-fonts. He folds his clothes neatly and stacks then on top of a small chest of drawers.

I take off my shirt, exposing my large breasts. He immediately cups them, then begins kissing, sucking and nibbling on them. Mmmmmm. I leave my black lace skirt on for no particular reason.

I sit on the edge of the waterbed. He stands up, his hard cock right there in my face. What’s a girl to do when there’s a throbbing cock in her face? Suck it, of course!

I take his cock into my mouth and cup his balls with my hand. He reaches down, lifts my skirt and starts fingering my pussy.

We both lay down on the waterbed. It feels ultra wavy. My red satin sheets add a dimension of slipperiness to the occasion.

As I lay back on the bed, he lifts my skirt again and dives head-first into my pussy. His tongue is incredible! He’s a voracious pussy-eater. I have a mini-orgasm as he flicks my clit. He plunges his tongue into my cunt. He lifts me up ever so gently and starts rimming me.

Mr.MusicBiz soon lunges forward. His throbbing cock slides into my pussy. I love it when a guy gets me wet enough that his cock slides inside me with ease. I wanted his cock so badly. When he thrusts it in to me it feels SO GOOD!

We start pumping each other and kissing. My legs are in the air resting on his shoulders. He grinds his cock deeper and deeper into me. His smooth balls brush against my clit – an amazing feeling. I have another mini-orgasm. We pump each other for a good twenty minutes or more. Our bodies are tightly entertained. He starts breathing heavier and heavier the suddenly then he cums inside me.

He lays on top of me for a few minutes with his cock still firmly in place. He then dismounts and lays on the waterbed next to me. We have some post-coital chat about LA, the music business and the Video Music Awards.

I ask him for the time. He reaches over to the nightstand and picks up his watch. The time is 5:25.

“We better get ready for dinner,” I say as I point to the strap-on which is on the floor in a small pile with the other sex toys. “Well save that bad boy for round 2!”

Part 3 coming tomorrow.

Candy from Strangers

I had a ‘Carrie moment’ yesterday.

“I was just entering my safety zone when there he was, my emotional equivalent to the big crash of ’29 - Aiden” – Carrie Sex and the City. Season 6, “To Market, to Market.” When Carrie runs into Aiden with his newborn son, Tate.

I had a moment like that yesterday. It wasn’t exactly the same but I’ll have to spare the gory details for my own sanity. And if you follow this blog regularly, I’m sure you can fill in the blanks yourself. It’s weird, no matter how hard you try getting over someone, boom! Coincidence strikes and there they are staring you in the face.

Although my night wasn’t totally ruined, it was tinged with sadness. I wasn’t my usual happy self.

On my way home to Canary Wharf, a random girl on the DLR offered me some of her chocolates. I know you’re not supposed to take candy from strangers, but the gesture seemed so gracious, so comforting. It was as if this girl was tuned into my own sadness; as if she understood on some level what I was going through. So I accepted. (And if these are the last words I ever write, clearly I’ve been poisoned!)

The lesson Carrie took away from her run-in with Aiden was that if she and Aiden could survive their relationship crash, then there’s nothing that she can’t bounce back from. I wasn't so optimistic at first. But things are looking up and now I feel the same way.

Oh also, not that this is pertinent, I ran into David Walliams and got a nice text message from Mr.MusicBiz. So the night wasn't completely without merit.

(Part two of, “I Fucked him up the Ass” coming tomorrow. Sorry!)

I Fucked Him up the Ass (Part 1)

I Fucked Him up the Ass.

On Friday Mr.MusicBiz flew into town from LA. First Class. BA. Flat bed seats. New silver iPod Nano, listening to a rough cut of his own album, that he just wrapped production on.

On Saturday he calls me from the Sanderson. He hates the Sanderson. He hates the décor. Too modern. Too smarmy. No minibar. At least the record company is paying for it. He’s tuning a guitar while he’s talking to me. At least I think it’s a guitar? He says he might switch to the Dorchester. Or he might stay where he is. Or maybe the Ritz. He thinks he’s incapable at the moment of making a definite decision. He says he’s meeting up with some friends at a gig tonight. He mentions a few famous names. I feign sounding impressed. He then asks me if I want to go out to diner on Sunday.

I say yes. He wants me to pick a restaurant. I ask him if I should get a restaurant near him or near me. He says near me since he hasn’t figured out if he’s switching hotels or not.

I ask him about the guitar and why he’s tuning it. He says it’s not a guitar. It’s a bass. He also says it’s not his. It belongs to a friend. (I guess that explains that?)

“Any special requests?” I ask him.

He pauses. The bass goes quiet. The line sounds almost dead. He then says, “I want to fuck.” He pauses again “But I also want to get fucked.”

I look at Doggums and raise an eyebrow.

An hour later I’m in Harmony Sex Shop on Tottenham Court Road. I expected the place to be filled with perverts and sleazy eastern European types. Aside from a few Germans, the clientele looked surprisingly similar to Waitrose customers.

I spend twenty minutes examining the strap-on harnesses. I wish someone would write a guide book on the subject.

Here’s what I know about strap-ons:

• They cost from £30 to £80.


• The better ones are made out of leather, some are made out of vinyl / canvas.


• Most harnesses fit up to a 48 inch (122 cm) waist.


• Some companies make harnesses for “plus size women.”


• The two main parts of a harness are the harness itself and the dong (dildo). They are usually sold together but can be bought separately.



• Some strap-one (like the one I bought) come with a mini-vibrator. So you can get pleasure while you’re giving it!



• Some strap-ons come with a device you can insert into your pussy and or anus. This is also so you can give pleasure and get pleasure.



• Don’t forget to buy lube.

I spent £125 on toys. This includes: a cat-o-nine tails, fuzzy handcuffs, a vibrator called Wanda, an anal vibrator an oral sex vibrating bug and cherry-flavored lube.

I was just getting out of the bath when Mr.MusicBiz arrived at my door. I quickly threw on come clothes: A sparkly tank top that shows mucho cleavage and a black lace skirt. No panties. No Bra.

He looked good. He looked very, LA. His hair looked lighter, his skin looked tanner. We kissed as he entered my flat. Doggums wasn’t happy about this. She barked incessantly. I finally bribed her with a half-eaten chicken leg and she seemed to quiet down.

Mr.MusicBiz and I headed into the bedroom, closing the door behind us. He kissed me passionately while I reached down and felt his hard-on. He said he hadn’t masturbated in a few days; that he was bursting, but he was saving his cum for me. “Good boy,” I told him.

We spent several minutes kissing. He moved from my mouth to my neck. Then he kissed my ear and my knees started to quiver.

Part 2 coming tomorrow.

Sex and New York City

Sex and New York City

Anjelika gets laid. Wanda learns about donkey punching.

51 Minutes

Naive London Girl: An American Sex Blog in London

http://www.NaiveLondonGirl.com

Jinx the Minx

My Night with Mr. MusicBiz

My Night with Mr. MusicBiz

Whoa, I’ve been totally busy. I just moved house. I don’t have net access at my new place yet. That’s why there haven’t been any updates lately. It’s not for my lack of sex.

So last week I had a great sexual experience. I get horny just thinking about it. I went out with the Mr. MusicBiz. For obvious reason I’m not going to disclose who he is. But so that I can set the story, here is some info about him:
1. He’s sexy.
2. He’s charismatic.
3. He’s genuinely a nice guy.
4. He’s down to earth.
5. He’s highly regarded in the music industry.
6. If you haven’t heard of him you’re probably living under a rock.

I met him outside a posh Japanese restaurant in Mayfair. We had dinner at the Japanese restaurant. We ordered the tasting menu, which was fabulous.

Our dinner conversation was good. No awkward silences. It was great to hear his perspective on the music industry. There was one point where I was caught off guard. He asked me if I pay to download music or if I do it without paying (e.g. illegally).

“Oh, shit!” I thought. I quickly scanned my music collection though my head trying to remember if I had downloaded any of his songs from Limewire. Then I thought, how do I answer this? Yes, I download stuff from Limewire, but generally the stuff that I download is not available on the iTunes. I’m happy to pay for music. I would reckon that I spent $150 in the iTunes store over the past 3 months.

I gave an honest answer, but part I suddenly felt guilty for all the music I had downloaded in my lifetime without paying for. OK, I just checked my iTunes and compared it to his discography. It looks like there are 4 tracks of his that I downloaded without paying for. Conversely, there are 50 or more (I stopped counting) tracks that I did pay for. That’s not so bad. Maybe I don’t feel so guilty now.

After dinner he asked me back to his hotel. There were no taxis available so we took a rickshaw. That was my first time in one. What a convenient way to get around London!

The hotel room was nice. Mr. MusicBiz didn’t seem too impressed with it. As soon as we entered the room we kissed. He reached and put his hand down the top of my skirt. (Yes, it was the skirt that I stole after I fucked Françoise). We moved on to the bed. He was kissing me and fingering me at the same time. Soon I removed my knickers and my bra. I was totally naked on his bed. His clothes soon came off as well. One of the best things about Mr.MusicBiz is his attention to detail. I’m guessing that’s why he’s so successful.

He was very thorough in licking my clit. It was excellent. Not only did he lick my clit, he licked my arsehole too. I never had anyone lick my arsehole with such fervor and gusto. AND I never realized how sensitive I am down there. Sensitive in a good way. I almost orgasmed from my arse being licked. It was such a new and interesting sensation. I loved every minute of it.

By the time he was done licking me I was ready to be fucked. My pussy was so wet, I just needed to be fucked hard.

I sucked on his cock for a while and played with his balls. I made sure he was at his maximum hardness.

He thrusted his cock inside me and it felt good. Generally, I am really, really tight. And usually when a guy enters me the first thrust hurts. With the BFE a couple weeks ago, for example, that first thrust was painful! No problems with Mr. MusicBiz. I was wet enough that he could enter me with no problems.

He kissed my breasts, lips and check while he was fucking me. We were pumping each other for a good 15 minutes. Then he moaned as if he was about to come. He pulled out his cock and began jerking himself off.

“What are you doing?” I asked somewhat confused and shocked.

Before he could answer, he came.

That seemed bizarre. Or is that something that guys go?

We spent the rest of the night talking and spooning. We talked more about music. He kissed me on my mouth when I told him that I paid to download the title track on an album he did 7 years ago. Despite the album being panned by music critics I think there were some good songs on it. The title track was one of the best. He seemed genuinely pleased by my comment.

We fell asleep. I fell into a deep sleep. When I woke up I had no idea where I was. I went back to sleep then woke up again.

We had morning sex. I love morning sex. I wish I could start off every morning fucking. He went down on me again. V v Nice.

We fucked for a half hour. He didn’t pull out this time. He actually came inside After he came he laid on top of me for a while. There was something nice about that. It was a relaxing Sunday morning. He eventually got dressed. We said our good byes and I was left in the hotel room alone.

And even though I came three times, that wasn’t enough. As soon as he was out the door I took a shower and used the shower head massager on my clit.

I came a total of 4 times that day. And it wasn’t even 11 AM.