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Nerding Out

♦ Have I mentioned how much I love phone cameras? Man, I love phone cameras. It’s amazing how you can get quite decent and quite sexy shots without needing, or certainly getting, professional quality. I don’t know about you, but I grew up with dial-up, so I’m used to my porn not being the most HD you can get.

Like my recent Very Short Stories, it’s all about fitting blogging in where I can at the moment. Time is at a premium.

Nerding Out

Nerding Out 2

In any case, here are some hopefully sexy, and yet everyday, photos of yours truly just nerding out. A geeky t-shirt and jeans is practically my uniform. Here it’s my Wolverine t-shirt, which was an awesome find in the men’s section of Primark. Oh, my do I love the men’s section. That’s where you find all the good geek stuff, because obviously women hate that shit. Duh. Wolverine isn’t my favourite X-Man (that’d be Gambit), but he’s still really cool, especially in his 90s cartoon incarnation.

Speaking of 90s cartoons, those are my Teenage Mutant Hero (because Brits are allergic to Ninjas) Turtles manpants. Another reason to love the men’s section of Primark, in fact. Manpants might not be sexy to some (I think they are, because yay androgyny), but they sure as hell are awesome and comfy.

Got a favourite X-Man or Turtle (mine’s Raphael, because I had/have a thing for arrogant hot heads)? I’d love to know which! ♦

Sinful Sunday

Prime Time

♦ Dear everyone, welcome to my favourite pants. Oh, and I guess there’s me there too, but, y’know, whatever. The point is, these are just the best pants ever. And they’re not even for my gender.

Obviously, because they have robots on them. And girls only like ponies.

In any case, I remember that when I was a teenager I’d have been terrified to have been caught in pants like this. Full ass coverage? Ick, granny pants. Who cared about comfy? If people found out you weren’t cheese-wiring your own ass-crack, you were probably frigid. Best years of your life, eh? Ugh.

But I’ve tried thongs and briefs and French knickers and while they all have their place, my heart is well and truly set on that king of knickers: manpants. Sure, imitation boypants, the female underwear that just steals the style, are fine and comfy, but they so rarely have anything cool on them. But actual boxer-briefs, neither boxer nor brief, are covered in awesomeness (and cock jokes, but you can’t have it all).

And these are just the best I own. Motherfuckin’ Transformers.

Prime Time

You can only just see Optimus Prime there, because of the totally-subtle hand down my pants, but there’s also Hot Rod (there’s no way I’m calling him Rodimus Prime) and Ultra Magnus. Yup, they even themed which Autobots were going to be on there based on the Matrix of Leadership. I’m impressed.

But I’ve probably lost most of you now, so, er… Look! I’m totally touching myself! Rrowr! Who said geeks weren’t hot?

So, what are your favourite underpants like? What characters would you put on your ideal geeky (or otherwise) pair? ♦

Sinful Sunday

Earning My Wings

♦ Some time ago, Crush and I (along with Alt) went to one of London’s fine fetish fairs for a bit of a shufty around. We came away with a few interesting items:  a fluffy-backed riding crop and a metal ball-chain flogger (ouch).

But perhaps the best thing we found was this vintage RAF jacket.

Vintage RAF Jacket

It was bought for Crush. I like old military uniforms and the RAF by far are the coolest, and sexiest, ones. It fitted him well and he looked very handsome and hot in it. He still does whenever he wears it.

But I have to admit, I’ve taken quite a liking to it myself. So I pinch it now and then. Men from the era being slim and me being plump, it doesn’t quite close, though…

Naked Boobs in Vintage RAF Jacket

I don’t know, do you think that’s a problem? Have I earned my wings? ♦

Wicked Wednesday

The Perils of Packing

♦ Last week I went to the pub wearing my packing cock. I don’t have any packing pants at the moment, though the fantastic RodeoH are working on that (so excited!), so I settled for tucking my Mr Limpy into a pair of boypants.

I added jeans, a shirt and a tie, but I kept the bra and boobs, because cock or not, I like my boobs. And off I went. Here’s a snap of me getting dressed.

It was fantastic. I’m not sure if my friends noticed, but I don’t much care either way. I felt sexy, confident and slightly turned on. I’m not going to do it all the time, but I do like it.

There is one slight problem with packing in pants that don’t have a pouch, though. Going to the toilet. Down come the pants and, if you don’t have a plan, out will fall the packer. Luckily, I had an idea. Pub toilets may have rohypnol in mind rather than the perils of packing, but beggars can’t be choosers! ♦

Toy with me Tuesday

Niagara Fallen

♦ I have a strap-on harness. Two, in fact, though I think one may end up going back to the shop soon as it’s just not as good as the other. Well, technically, three, but one is Vac-u-locked to a phthalatastic Doc Johnson ‘dong’ that I am never going near again. It’s basically waiting on death row for a suitable demise. Fire’d be nice.

Anyway, I have a strap-on harness, or a few, and a goodly number of dildos. Long and fairly thin (like the one below, which is the Tantus Niagara), small and veiny, gorgeous and realistic, neon and slim, curved and chic, flexible and artsy. Heck, with the latest review item I’ve been sent, I even have a fantastic take on the stereotypical massive black one. And all of those have just the right base for putting in a harness.

Crush isn’t into anal or harness stuff, though, so why bother? Well, several reasons actually. Firstly, I originally bought the evil rubber one to experiment with my thoughts around gender. As you may know, I’m into androgyny. I’d love to have a cock of my own to play with and I can even make myself orgasm, in the right mindset, by stroking a cock or strap-on and pretending that I do. A strap-on harness allows me the fun and exploration of make-believe. Plus, it’s great for boinging around and doing the helicopter dick. :P

And besides which, I’m on the lookout for a nice girl to hopefully play with. And oh, how I’d dearly love to fuck a girl with my cock. A real cock would be better, but science continues to fail me, but this would certainly do. I find myself often shifting to a more masculine me around girls, actually. So hopefully if the opportunity arises, my harness will be good for that too.

Until then, I’ll have to stick to strapping one on and hanging out with my wang out. Like so… ♦

Rock Out With My Cock Out

♦ The bulge in my girl-boxers looked good, I thought to myself as I lay back on the bed. Strangely natural, well sized and beginning to spread a slight tingling where it was touching skin. Crush began to kiss my face and I not-so-subtly moved his hand down to my newly-acquired package. He hesitated and then, overcoming his reservations for my sake, cupped my false cock under his palm, stroking and rubbing as he’d often felt me do to him.

Despite the obvious lack of actual feedback coming from the limp thing stuffed down my knickers, I thrilled to the barely-felt touch. I kissed him back in earnest and rolled myself half on top of him, pressing myself against him. His fingers moved to deftly undo my bra from underneath my short blue summer dress. He plucked it from me and cupped my breasts in his masculine hands.

When he began to roll down my underwear I suggested he leave it on enough to contain my cock and instead cover my bared behind in blows and blushed skin. Quickly he moved to the second drawer and pulled out three implements, the ruler, the leather strap and my favourite, the shiny red paddle. I turned over onto my front and he rained down strikes on my exposed skin, causing me to yelp and wriggle. His other arm pinned me down, leaning his weight on me at the shoulder blades as I gasped. As usual he had to temper himself a little whilst using the ruler and strap, his strength too easily turning into just-too-hard hits. The paddle, though, was perfect. A flatter, broader strike than the stings of the other two. Soon I imagined my cheeks to look as red as the paddle itself and I begged for him to stop, which he did.

Now I needed him inside me.

My thin summer dress was in complete disarray as he rolled me over onto my front and pulled down my pants, setting my packing cock to one side. My breasts had fallen free from their cover, tickled lightly by the breeze. Crush stripped off his top and trousers, his flesh-and-blood cock standing proud between his legs. He parted my legs and began to rub the wonderful thing over the lips of my sex, rubbing deliciously against me. Though moments ago I was enjoying the make-believe male member of mine, now all I wanted was to dive back into reality and have him inside me.

Crush obliged.

I cried out as his frankly huge cock entered me, as always still shocked by the size of it, despite more than a year of practice. I fancied it cleaved me near in two as he placed his hands on my shoulders, pinning me to the bed. As he plunged deeper and deeper I managed to wriggle the tips of my fingers to my clitoris and began to stroke myself. I knew we’d both worked ourselves into a frenzy and that it wouldn’t be long before we both exploded into orgasm. As his cock opened me up to the core I began to moan louder and louder.

Soon he was moaning too and my orgasm flared into life. I bucked against his weight and he began to shudder into me, his cock flooding come into me as my climax faded. He collapsed on top of me and we lay there quietly for a while, his weight on me feeling calming and immensely comfortable. ♦

So, er, for those who haven’t managed to keep up with the above, I’ve bought myself a real feel packing penis, more to come on that later. I’ve wanted one for a while and finally got around to getting one. Also, still with Crush and he’s still gorgeous. Hopefully I can keep this whole back-into-blogging thing up. Much thanks and squee to those who missed me.

Penance

♦ Okay, look, I can explain. I really can. I just can’t promise it’ll be very satisfying.

I know I’ve been bad.

I know that there’s a decent-sized handful of you out there who can have rather….strict views on bad behaviour.

But forgive me?

Don’t look at me that way, or you might make this fun. You don’t want to encourage me to be naughty, so be nice.

The last thing I need at the moment is yet another reason to suck at blogging :)

All right, I know. It’s sub-par. No updates in over two weeks. It’s not my fault. The geek side of me has been rather pushing its way to the front of the queue lately. Time is sparse and I’ve been filling what there is of it with roleplaying and board games and geek friends and Left 4 Dead and Only Connect.

Blame the geekery.

Please?

I can make it up to you.

I can.

Okay, I know, geekery has taken me away from blogging and I haven’t the time to write anything more in-depth tonight but how about I repay you with something?

Hmm, I’ve got just the thing. It’s geekery that has caused the lack, so I think it fitting I give you some of my geek-themed naughty pictures from my hard drive.

Will that do?

Some nerdy nudity? Some gamer girls? Something to fill your hot niche?

I was not being crude. I refer only to the pictures.

Here, take your fill… ♦

Sega

I Heart Geeks

Drow

Ethernet

Amy and Mario

Hulk SMASH!

Androgyny – Part 3

♦ It’s been a little while, hasn’t it? Will you all forgive me if I look meek enough?

The question’s redundant. It probably isn’t going to happen. Meek doesn’t seem to suit me. Can’t think why.

So, while I’ve been feeling far more inspired by zombies recently than by sex, I do still have a few topics and so on up my sleeve. And to be honest I’m already seeing Boomers when I blink, so I should probably lay off the shooting for five minutes and write for all you lovely people.

Last time I wrote one of this little mini-series I told you all about how I want a temporary cock. My own hard erection to play with, to stroke, to force into mouths, to make a girl moan.

It turns out that in a way I can borrow one.

Fractal’s mine, of course. And his penis is too, naturally. Just as I and my sex are his. But science has not yet provided us with a sexual physical feedback loop. It doesn’t feel mine physically, still his.

Science, it turns out, is not the answer for once.

It’s all in the mind.

We were lying in bed, Fractal and I. I’d had these thoughts on my mind a fair bit, thoughts of the weird gender-mash-up that seems annoyingly unattainable. I was just growing into the idea then, of wanting a cock. Of feeling like I would suit one rather, if just temporarily.

We were spooning. We were supposed to be sleeping. And we were also rather tense.

These things happen.

I was pressed up against his back, tight. Arms around him. My body was on a level with his so that my hips were at his hips, my hands nicely placed to touch him and his sex.

It didn’t take long before I was playing with his cock. It didn’t take long before he was hard in my hands.

And the proximity of our bodies, the closeness of the base of his cock to where it would attach to my own body, it must’ve got me thinking. The positioning was so perfect that with only the slightest imagination it seemed like the cock was attached to my body. Like I was masturbating my own erection.

As I thought about that idea I found myself getting very turned on. My clit became hot, my pussy became wet, my breathing changed and I started to feel more and more aroused with each tug on his cock. Each movement on him was looped back into me. If I thought about it enough I could swear that I was getting direct stimulation from masturbating that penis.

My penis. It felt like my penis.

It was strange and wonderful at once. It didn’t even feel like a mental thing. It felt honestly like I was masturbating myself, only my hand was on Fractal’s cock and the effect was still on my sex.

I loved it. Fractal loved it too, once he clicked (and you can forgive him for not doing so straight away, odd as it is) what was going on. Once he realised how hot I was getting owning his cock. My cock.

Soon my breath was ragged. Somehow, somehow I was on the verge of an orgasm. I knew it.

I hadn’t even laid a finger on myself.

I came. My female sex shuddered as I touched my borrowed male one. Fractal seemed a little surprised but very pleased. I’d come from borrowing his cock.

Don’t worry, I gave it back. ♦

Androgyny – Part 2

String Vest

♦ Where was I? Oh yes.

So, it’s hot to be a tomboy and it’s hot to be a girlboy.

I like being called a boy as he fucks me, sometimes. But that’s not all. And I’m not really sure if it was a sort of natural progression from the ‘liking being called a boy’ or whether it was from any number of other things, but let’s try and sort it out, shall we?

I want a cock.

To have a cock.

Not always. Just sometimes. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not transgendered, I don’t think I was born a boy in the wrong body. I don’t want to become one even though in many ways I am more like one. I like being a tomboy. I like being a girl who’s sexy but ‘one of the lads’.

I’d just like to borrow one. I’d really like to borrow one.

They’re fascinating! And they just look like they feel great. And  even just thinking as I write this down I realise that this all far too complicated to fit into a blog post, particularly as I haven’t even formed these ideas fully yet myself.

Cock is…powerful.

I know, I know! It isn’t, it shouldn’t be, it’s a stereotype and I’m a repressed traitor. You do not need cock to dom. You do not need cock to fuck. You do not need cock to be like a force of frickin’ nature in bed.

And yet, and yet…

There’s something about it. I’m not sure I can grasp what either. It sort of snuck up on me. It doesn’t help that I suppose I’d never really seen a proper one before I lost my virginity to Fractal. For at least a week, although we were having sex fairly often (including about five times in one day, heheh) I was too nervous to touch his penis.

Once I had, I loved it. But even then I didn’t get to suck it until I came back from Japan almost six months later. I loved that too.

Penises are just an amazing piece of kit! Perhaps it’s because I don’t have one and I can’t know what it feels like, but I’ve always been fascinated.

When I discovered and accepted my bisexuality this took on a new side. I once or twice found myself thinking about doing things to girls and accidentally imagining sticking a penis I didn’t have into them. Split second images of impossible acts.

I started wishing I could have one so that I could use it on some luscious young lady.

My dreams agreed, showing me a wonderfully sexy scene of me and a very lovely blonde. Suddenly, part way through foreplay, I had a cock. Not a strap-on, a real live cock. And I fucked her with it. Deeply. Firmly.

Stimulus Package

I could feel everything. And when I came I could feel that too. And it felt good.

However, it wasn’t until an innocent bit of spooning, that I realised all I needed was a little imagination and a willing penis to get me off…

But that’s for next time. ♦

Androgyny – Part 1

Y Fronts and Braces

♦ So. Thursday was interesting.

It might take a bit of explaining, too. Hell, it sounds a little weird even to me and I’m the one who’s kinking on it.

Where to start?

It doesn’t help that I’ve missed blogging about pretty much any of the preludes to this, again because I wasn’t sure where to start with the explanations.

There’s a reason my avatar is a picture of me in braces. Early on in our relationship Fractal told me how he found women in men’s clothing hot. Certain aspects of women crossdressing to men. Androgyny. Obvious feminine features poorly covered in masculine trappings.

Braces pressing into the soft flesh of breasts, skimming the nipples.

I mean, I’m a fair bit of tomboy anyway (to the point that, despite obvious bosoms and so on, friends have remarked that I’m ‘not a girl’) so I certainly didn’t mind dressing up in braces. Buying them was my idea anyway, Fractal just cashed in on it.

In fact, I realised I found them pretty hot too.  Not just because I knew I was dressing up equivalent to sexy lingerie. Not just because of the reaction it got me. But also because, dammit, it actually does look and feel pretty hot. Constant nipple pressure is not to be sniffed at.

Either way, it wasn’t long before Fractal intimated to me that he liked the thought of me in men’s underwear too. Not just any men’s underwear either. His.

Getting them all filthy as I got wet. The smell of my come on his pants.

It made sense.

Then, in London, he explained to me that he’d find it ‘kinda hot’ to refer to me as a ‘dirty boy’. To mess around with the gender roles. He was so cute as he told me, too. So shy and afraid I’d find him weird and his little fantasy disgusting.

Very, very sweet.

And entirely unnecessary.

It was a surprise to me too, but I felt a thrill run through my pussy as he told me. I was already dressed in my tomboy gear. White shirt, braces, manly trousers, black tie.

At the time I remember being confused as to what I found more hot: the idea of him fucking a boy or the idea of being fucked as a boy. I still don’t know. They’re both pretty sexy.

That afternoon turned me on so much. The sex was amazing. He called me his dirty boy, pressed against me, took me.

Suits

He fucked his filthy boy and she loved it. I was pretty hooked.

I’m going to leave it there for now. The explanation is a little long and I want to publish something soon, but not to rush. So here’s the first little chunk of my tale.

I promise more deviance soon….