Fancy an intimate encounter with Ashley Fodor-Jordan in York?

There are two kinds of people in this world: those who fuck and those who get fucked. I am in the first category and a certain Ashley Fodor-Jordan now knows that she belongs to the second. It's a pity that she didn't realise this before she tried her prick-teasing games on with me, as it would have saved her from the public humiliation that I am dishing out to her with this repost of her deleted blog. Ashley reckoned that if anyone ever suspected that she was the blogger then she could always delete and deny the work, especially the bits about the love she has for back door action, but she forgot Google cache and how easy it was to recover her secrets that way.

Enough of this merry banter: do you enjoy uncomplicated sex? What about anal sex - fancy a bit of that? As you will see when you read her own words, Ashley Fodor-Jordan offers all that and more to almost anyone who comes along, so if you are looking for an intimate encounter or hook-up then Ashley advertises herself across many dating sites. She called herself Lil-Un at PlentyofFish.com, but although her nicknames change, her desire for cock doesn't. If you live in York or Middlesbrough then you might want to consider making contact with her.

Ashley Fodor-Jordan was born in June 1986 and was brought up in Middlesbrough. She moved to York to go to the York St. John "University" in 2004 to study for a degree in Drama, graduating in 2007. She is just 5' 2" tall, has olive-brown skin and thick black hair. She sometimes wears large, black framed glasses, as you can see from the photo on the left which was taken in January 2011.


She had a now deleted girly blog called Confused Thoughts of a 20-Something, which she wrote under the nickname Titch and is still well-known around the web under that name.

The Secret Sex Confessions blog ran from the 7th to the 22nd of May 2010 and this version has all the postings uploaded using the same dates and times as the now deleted originals. The original blog was deleted on the 24th May by Ashley who had overreached herself and wanted to avoid the coming shitstorm. If you want to know why that shitstorm hit, then read the next posting.

NickUrzdown@gmail.com

Chasing Ashley Fodor-Jordan? Consider this...

". . .instead of telling you about my knickers, i thought i would send a picture. I have the set and i absolutely heart them. I find them adorable. Very Betty Boop."

This photo and the above text arrived to my mobile on the 19 May 2010 at 7.34pm. As you can tell, Ashley Fodor-Jordan gets juicy when she writes sexy texts. The problem is that she also gets turned on by prick-teasing and humiliating her previous lovers if she can.

She tried the prick-teasing on with me for about three days until I realised what was going on and then I hit the roof. This text was the first sign of trouble. Reading her words you can see that Ashley claimed that the photo was of her, but the silly bitch had pulled it from an on-line catalogue and the original file number was still on it.

On the 22 May in her final blog posting Ashley Fodor-Jordan wrote a fictionalised version of a conversation that the two of us had engaged in the day before. The real conversation followed the exact sequence as in the posting - we discussed where we had enjoyed sex, the number of people we had done it with and what we liked to do in bed. The conversation then ended with Ashley making a great giggling song and dance about not letting things go any further, and I thought nothing more about it until I read the posted version where she had engaged in 'phone sex, supposedly with a man she called the Farmer. Since it is almost impossible to have two conversations that follow the exact same sequence I told her that I was familiar with the game where the local slapper chooses one man as her fool and makes sure that he knows that she is giving it away to everyone else and his brother, whilst the fool is left to go and have a wank. It is a power game that some cheap tarts like to play, but Ash Fodor-Jordan is going to wish that she had not played it with me when these 12 postings make her famous in York.

Reading this blog should enable you to avoid the prick-teasing and get the shag, but before you go off to get your knob polished by Ashley, you might like to know that she talks a lot about her past and present lovers. On the 20th May 2010 she received a phone call from the man that she had lived with for four years, the two having been students at York St John University together until the breakup in February of that year. Gloatingly she told me how he had tearfully asked her if she had been with anyone else? She had replied that she had been with one man, but "actually it's about 31," she laughed. I asked her why she had done this and she explained that it was "in case I ever need him for something."

The problem is that the truth will out. Ashley may have deleted her blog, but it now exists here as an archive. In her final text to me at 8.12am on the 25 May 2010, Ash seemed to realise that her writings were going to cause her problems because she wrote to me: "I just deleted it as i didn't want to cause any more trouble than i already have. I really don't want it to go up again - please?"

Sorry, Ashley, but you are shit out of luck, partly for trying to take the piss out of me, but mainly for fleeing like a rabbit to avoid my wrath. You need to be taught a lesson, young lady, and that is what this is all about. For the rest of you, please scroll down and start reading her own words, or click the links on the left to go to the individual postings. Then if you ever do bump into Ashley Fodor-Jordan in either York or Middlesbrough, please don't forget to give her my best wishes. After you have used the information contained in this archive to find out what she likes so that you can slip her a length that is. . .

NickUrzdown@gmail.com

I didn't mean to

Ok, so another secret. Of sorts anyways. My friends know about this though and while they are a little confused as to why I do it, they've let it be.

I joined a dating site. I hardly go out to meet blokes and when I do, it's never fruitful. Not sure why. Maybe because I can't be bothered with the pretending to be interested in someone when I know all I want is a good seeing to and then for him to leave in the morning. That's if I'm feeling generous. Half the time I want them out about 5 minutes after. But the twist is that on my dating profile I've stated I'm looking for an 'Intimate Encounter'. Half the responses are twits asking do I want to be fucked or can they eat me out. Eurgh. These get read and deleted. Just because I put'Intimate Encounter' doesn't mean I'm a moron either. A few do make it through and come across as articulate, funny and sweet. Then the picture exchange takes place. If neither of us are interested, we say so. But if we both like what we see, we carry on messaging.

Which is how I got to meet the Farmer. His online name was enough to make me think he was a bit of a fool, but his opening message was humorous and engaging. I found myself drawn to him. The picture he sent me showed what I would describe to be a slim, cute guy who it looked like I could corrupt. And so the flurry of text messages started. Followed by a short and sweet phone call the other night. I liked his voice. He sounded warm and soothing. But still quite sexy. So we arranged to meet for a date this weekend.

In the meantime we had another phone call as a catch up. It was completely meant to be a normal phone call, enquiring about how both our weeks had been. Work had been chewing me out and it was nice to speak to someone about it. There was only one problem. All I've been able to concentrate on this week is sex. It's been nearly 2 weeks and for me, it's far too long. Passing men in the street I find myself weighing up their fuckability. Walking past women in tight tops and short skirts and I even find myself wanting to caress their curves. It's becoming a nightmare. So having a conversation with the Farmer, I was trying to concentrate on his soothing tone and not on the throbbing between my legs. But the conversation took a decidedly flirtatious direction and soon we were both discussing where the strangest place we've had sex is, how many partners we've had, what we like and don't like and I found myself telling him I was getting turned on. Thankfully he didn't declare me to be a pervert and end the conversation. Instead he told me his cock was getting hard thinking about how wet I was becoming and suggested that I should slide my hands into my knickers and tell him how damp I was. Well who was I to say no to such an open minded guy? Soon I was telling him I was sliding out of my shorts and French knickers and was stroking myself with my fingers, my juices already dampening my thighs. He then asked if I had a toy, and if I did to use that and imagine it was his cock. His voice had changed from soothing to authorative and to be honest, it was making me hornier.

So I'm laid on the bed, sliding my toy into me, asking him what he likes to do and telling him the things I like when I find myself getting close. Shit. Now what do I do? I mean, I could try and ignore it but then I'd feel like I was robbing myself. So I asked would he mind if I came? Why I asked is beyond me cause the Farmer laughed and said he was hoping I would. So I positioned the phone between my shoulders, put my toy to one side and used my fingers to stroke myself to the point of no return. Just as I was there I told him I was gonna cum and heard him say he was glad as he'd been holding off for some time. A few seconds later I exploded and then heard him echo with his own orgasm. The whole thing was so incredibly sexy.

I seriously didn't intend to have phone sex with a guy who I haven't even met in person yet, but like I said, when it's all I can think of it's no use fighting it. It just begs the question - what will happen when we DO meet up?

And on a side note, Mr Monday has been in touch saying he's gonna visit me this weekend for a 'Catch Up'. Read into that what you will. I for one hope it's to give me a damn good seeing too. I need to.

My first secret

I realised after looking through my posts that while I've been spilling my sexual past one entry at a time, I've not shared a secret.

As the name of this blog is Secret Sex Confessions then I figured it was about time I spilled one. So here goes. This is something I've not shared with anyone. I lie, I did share this with a bloke I met online, but he doesn't count.

I don't mind the jobs I've had. I spend my days filing paperwork, archiving old forms and constructing cardboard boxes on my hands and knees. Add to the fact I take a few calls and it's not too strenuous and the wage is fair I've got no complaints. But one thing I do enjoy being paid for is sneaking off to the toilets to have a mid-day play.

Sometimes sitting at my desk I go through the list of men I've been with in my head, creating my own slide show of filthy images, holding on to each one in my mind for a few seconds before the next one comes along and blocks the other one out. Thoughts of oral sex, anal, dress up, hands grabbing, skin slicking together, hair being pulled, someone tasting me, fingers pawing, bodies slapping all mash in to one another and I can't think straight. What's a girl to do? I try to be good and hold off on doing anything. Maybe savouring it until I get home will be worth it. Will all the pent up frustration be worth holding on to in the hope of a strong orgasm?

Sometimes yes it is. But on the other occasions where I sit, fidgeting at my desk, unable to concentrate on the screen in front of me and wondering is it possible to download some porn sneakily on my phone, I have to give in. I ache to be touched. I can feel my knickers becoming sticky, my skin is electric. Anyone leaning over to lend the stapler could set me off and I know I can't sit there until the hands on the clock tick around till home time and I just have to rush to the toilets.

Holing myself in the cubicle, my trousers either come down or my skirt goes up. Depending on how much time I think I have, the knickers either get pulled to the side or if it's been a quiet day, they get pulled down too. Knowing I have mere minutes until someone could walk in and it's a stand off to see whoever can stay in the cubicle the longest, my fingers set to work. The main problems I encounter are making sure no-one comes in and can see my feet at strange angles or wondering why one foot is on the floor and the other is no where to be seen and then wondering what the rattling is against the door (which is usually my other foot shaking as I start to cum). I find it bloody hard to stay silent too. I've had someone enter the bathroom just as my orgasm set in and I let out a little squeak. The old love had no idea. But on most occasions I just about manage to swallow the noises that would otherwise be escaping my lips and come almost silently, apart from the rattling door.

And once I've came, the clothes come back on, I wash my hands, smarten myself up in the mirror and return back to my desk, ready to tackle the rest of the day with no-one the wiser.

Hit Me Baby One More Time

The first time I dressed up it was, unoriginally, as a schoolgirl.

I was 18 and it was the summer before I headed off to University. One of the best summers of my life. My parents had swanned off on holiday, me claiming I couldn't abandon my job as I needed as much money as possible for my first year (which ironically none was spent on books and tools needed for my academics, but on plenty of skirts, dresses and fabulously high shoes). So they trusted their sweet, sensible daughter with their house and off they went for 2 weeks, leaving me alone. A small school boy error on their part but hey, we all live and learn. I had parties galore, integrating my school chums, college friends and work pals together with the help of plenty of free flowing alcohol and space cakes college people had made.

It was in this summer that I first experienced what I can only describe as secret sex. Quick back story - Carl and I were work pals. Carl had recently broken up with his girlfriend of about 6 years. They had rented a house together. But clearly things hadn't been working because out shopping one day I got a call from Carl asking if I was going out with him and our other friend Oli. Strange but I knew that I'd be sleeping with him that night. And I bloody did too. At the house he shared with his ex. And that's how it started. After that night we found ways to see each other. I'd visit him in his now bachelor pad. And with my parents being away he would come and stay at mine. We fucked everywhere. In the front room with the curtains open so it was possible for people to see if they so wished. In the kitchen, on the stairs, on my bunk beds, on the landing. But we still acted as if nothing was happening when we were with other people. No body knew what the hell was going on under their noses and that's what made it even more thrilling.

He claimed his ex had gone off sex, and when they did she was not enthusiastic about it at all. So when I came along, all fresh faced and with a spring in my step he wanted me. We were getting different things from each other. With his extra few years he was able to make me feel things I'd not felt before, and with me being 18 I was able to give him the enthusiasm and clarification that would mend the small dent in his ego.

One day I really wanted to surprise him, so having finished my day job I text him and told him to be at mine for a certain time, the door would be unlocked and he should come upstairs. The nerves as I was getting ready and waiting to hear the front door were sickening. The silence deafening. I heard the knock and him come in followed by the soft thumps of his converse on the carpeted stairs.

'Where are you?'

'In the bedroom.'

He came in and I remember his face was a picture. I was bent over my dresser, wearing a tight white shirt that was at the time straining across my chest, my black bra visible through the thin cotton. My school tie knotted loosely round my neck dangling between my cleavage. My skirt was black and tiered, short so that when I bent over the dresser he could see the white cotton knickers I had on underneath slightly peaking out. Black knee socks and pigtails finished it off to perfection. I was bent over the dresser, presenting my bum to him, ready for whatever he had in store for me. He always went commando and as he stood and surveyed my outfit, I was watching him in the mirror, my eyes focussing on his crotch as, very slowly, his cock started to strain against the denim. He could see me watching him and when my eyes met his in the reflection he took this as his signal that I was ready for him. He came over, nudging his knee between my thighs to open them slightly, he rubbed me over the cotton of my panties, feeling how moist I was getting. Unbuttoning his jeans, they fell to the floor with a thud and his cock literally sprung to life. Seeing the condom I'd laid next to my hands that were holding the dresser top, he reached for it, pulled my skirt up, my knickers to one side and without warming me up with his fingers first, thrust himself into me, all the while not breaking eye contact. A small whimper escaped my lips but I kept watching him fucking me, my breath quickening, my groans getting louder until I wasn't even sure it was me making them. Every time he slammed his cock into me, I lurched forward, my shirt straining so much that I was about to open the top few buttons, but he seemed to be reading my mind and leaning forward, quickly tugged at the shirt. The top three buttons flew off as the material teared and he used his hands that had been holding my hips to reach to my shoulders, pulling the shirt down slightly so that he could let me breasts free from my bra and watch them bounce every time he pumped into me. All of this was done without breaking any eye contact, and I was literally dripping by now. He fucked me with such intensity that when he came he kind of half fell onto my back. Regaining his composure, he spun me round, sat me on the dresser and wasted no time in burying his head between my thighs, driving his tongue and fingers into me, building up a rhythm of long licks and teasingly flicking his tongue over my clit until he knew I could take it no more and concentrated on sucking gently on my clit and sliding two fingers into me until I was telling him to stop. Which he knew meant carry on.

I came hard, my legs propped up on the dresser, my skirt hitched up, knickers sodden and pulled to one side, knee socks half down, tie hanging loose, shirt ripped and pigtails askew.

He told me I was the dirtiest looking school girl he'd ever seen.

Pulling

Last night was nice and summery. The kind where you can see the sun starting to set and the colours start to seep across the sky, all pinks and oranges mixing with the purples and blues. Add to the mix the sound of birds tweeting, and being able to hear laughter and conversation wafting in through my open window, I was glad I was going out.

The only problem with that was that I was going out with Josh. Josh and I work together, and him not being from the area and not yet having any male friends, as our office is mostly women, and older ones at that, I said I'd take him out. The only problem with this is that people will think that we're a couple. It's a lot more difficult to pull. Not impossible, but difficult.

On some other blogs the writers seem to have no problem getting male attention on a night out, and explain more along the lines as if they want to pull, It's not a question of can they, but who do they find attractive? It sounds so simple yet for me, and please tell me I'm not the only one, I find it a little more complicated than that.

In University, sure. I went to one in a big city, and even though the ratio of women to men was documented as being a lot higher, it was easier to bring a randomer home on a night out. I put that down to the 2 for 1 offers on nearly every drink imaginable, for most of the students it was their first time being away from home, add to the mix the horniness and the fancy dress nights (girls out in nurses uniforms, school girls, anything short and slutty looking really) most men were happy to take you home by the time 2am rolled around. And if he was half decent, and I was horny and knew I could get what I wanted from him, then the game was on. But now it's a lot more difficult I believe. Maybe it's me. I get complimented enough, but I'd describe myself as cute more than sexy and gorgeous. Men have claimed I'm crazy for not seeing it, but most of them are going to say that because they want to get in my knickers. And I'm not complaining, flattery will get you everywhere with me fellas.

So last night, dancing with Josh, but trying to make it seem like we weren't together, we somehow made a strangle circle, where people were stood either side of us, absent mindedly holding their beers and just dancing away. One guy just cut across the circle and came over to me and started dancing. First off, he was cute. Secondly the man was confident without it bordering on arrogance. If someone is too sleazy, or looks like he completely loves himself, I have no problem rolling my eyes and ignoring him. Fool. But he introduced himself as Seb, said he wasn't from here but was visiting University friends, and in between chatting I was liking his cheeky manner and charm. So when he kissed me I didn't push him away. In fact I pulled him closer. His hand on the small of my back urged me closer into his body and I was greeted with soft inviting lips. He tasted like peppermint and Jack Daniels. He said he was staying at his friends, on the floor, to which I replied all I could offer him was a single with myself. This game was definitely on.

But that's when I glanced over and noticed Josh stood on his own, looking all awkward and helpless and I knew I couldn't leave him. So I told Seb that I had to go and check on my friend and I'd find him later on. As much as I fancied him and actually wanted him in my bed, there'd be other blokes, God willing, but I couldn't abandon Josh. What kind of friend would I be if I did that?

So I sacrificed sex for friendship. I hope I get rewarded sometime soon God. And if you do feel the need to reward me, please ask Mr Monday to come and visit me when he gets back from his lad's holiday that was his Stag do. Yes, he was due to get married this year. But that's a whole other story for another day.

The first time

So as most of the people out there that are blogging about sex and the like, I'd like to go back and write about the first time I was penetrated by a guy.

That might be a strange way to word things but technically, the first time I had intercourse, it wasn't vaginal, it was anal. Something I was mocked by my friends for. I was 15 at the time and all the 'Cool Kids' we're losing their virginity's and inhibitions at house parties. I'd been with my boyfriend since the first year of middle school and I adored him. He was the first boy to use his fingers on me, the first to touch me with his tongue. In turn he was also the first boy I attempted to wank off and his was the first cock that touched my lips. We got by on things that now are forgotten about - snogging till our jaws ached, touching each other under the duvets when our parents were in bed and dry humping, which was basically sex, but with our clothes on. I truly believed he would be the guy that took my virginity along with everything else. But being only young, and even though everyone around me was having sex, I just wasn't ready. Well, not for that anyways. So I suggested anal to him. Looking back now I believe that to be an even bigger deal. Here I was, unwilling to let my childhood sweetheart get between my thighs and, for want of a better term 'Break me in', yet I was ready for him to take me up the ass. I remember it happening. We were watching late night T.V in my living room. My parents, having gone to bed had left us downstairs. He was allowed to spend the night, but only in the spare room. They must have known about the midnight sneaking across the landing, but if they did, they turned a blind eye to it. So we're laid on the sofa in the spooning position, his arms wrapped around me, both of us watching some late night comedy on BBC 2, I can remember that much. I started to absent mindedly grind myself into his crotch, slowly and gently at first until I could feel him start to stir and his breathing quicken in my ear. The one hand that had been resting on my hip gently eased my pyjama top up and snaked a hand under to reach up and begin to teasingly stroke my nipples. As his hands continued to caress and stroke my breasts, I felt his teeth softly nibble my ear lobe, his tongue leaving a wet trail up my neck which he then covered in kisses. By now I was pretty much thrusting myself back onto his lap, and I remember how hard he was at this point and how wet I was becoming. I told him that even though I wasn't ready for sex yet, how would he feel about trying anal? He was very sweet about it and was constantly asking how I was, which to this day I still admire, as he was a 15 year old boy who's girlfriend had just asked him to do her up the wrong-un. I wasn't worried about anyone finding out. His friends would never believe him anyways. Even now I still get told that I have a rather innocent face masking my incredibly filthy mind. I take it as a compliment. So still in the spooning position, duvet wrapped around us, I wriggled out of my bottoms and bunched them together around my ankles in case any movements were heard upstairs and we had to look normal quickly. His hand pushed my right leg up slightly so he could get his hand in between my thighs to finger me a little more. Getting me suitably worked up, he used my juices on his fingers to lube my ass, slightly pulling my cheeks apart and gently massaging my hole. Still checking I was ok he asked could he put a finger in me? By this time I was worked up, so while he was busying himself there he took his hand that had been holding mine since I'd asked him if he wanted to try anal and placed it between my thighs and told me that i should play with myself too. My middle finger was giving my clit long, slow strokes and his index finger was now fingering my ass. He then told me that he was going to use two fingers on me now and that if it hurt I should tell him and he'd stop. Thankfully, there was no pain. The opposite was happening to me in fact and I was getting more and more turned on, so turning my head slightly I told him I was ready.

Leaning forward a little, one of his hands held my hip while the other directed himself into me, my hands steadying myself against the sofa cushions and holding myself open for him. I really wanted it by then, and he restrained from going at it full throttle and shoving himself in. Although we were both inexperienced in everything sexual, we were on this journey together and we desperately wanted to please each other. He started slowly, the tip of his cock gently pressing against my ass, constantly asking was I ok? Was he hurting me? Yes and no I answered, in that order before telling him it all felt really nice and not like I'd imagined it and did he want to go a little further? This carried on for maybe 5 minutes until he was fully in me and he was able to build up a slow and gentle speed at which to thrust inside me. The feeling was unfamiliar, but not having had vaginal sex I had no idea what that felt like anyways, but doing it this way wasn't horrible. Quite the opposite in fact. We moved together like this for a few more minutes until he told me he was going to cum and what should he do? Knowing that we were both virgins I told him to just go for it and a few seconds later I experienced for the first time what it felt like for a man to shoot inside me. The hand gripping my hip squeezed me so tight and I felt him grow hard inside me before he went soft as he emptied the last of himself inside my ass. There was no time to cuddle though. I had to run upstairs to use the bathroom.

That's the only thing about having anal. The issue of the cum. I don't want it to dribble out (cause there's not a lot of space up there for it to go I reckon) so I have to run to sort myself out. No one wants to see his own jizz dribble out of my bum. Well maybe he does. Each to their own I suppose. But not me. I have to go and tidy myself up. I am still a lady after all.

And another thing. I don't appreciate the guys who claim to 'lose their way' when we're getting horizontal. If you want to do me that way, just ask. I'll either say no if all I'm after is a straight fuck but on the days I'm feeling more naughty then hell yeah. Just as long as he takes his time, uses his fingers first and there's plenty of lube involved.

To swallow or not to swallow?

I clearly jinxed myself by buying that box of 12 condoms. Maybe the checkout wench cursed me for being 'that' annoying customer and put some voodoo witchcraft on me to halt my sex life. That's my thinking because Mr Monday didn't make an appearance yesterday. He did text late afternoon to say that he was stuck in the office and wouldn't be able to see me till later and then.....nada. Not a button. I was slightly annoyed. It would have been nice to have known one way or another. Being told that sex is on the cards and then not hearing anything is like....well it's like......well it's damn annoying is what.

So I didn't get any on Monday. Quite disappointed but to be fair I was still in a bit of recovery from Sunday night. It took me a good hour after he left before I was ready to tackle the stairs again. I did however want him to know I was thinking about him today so I text him this;

'I want you to fill my mouth with your cum again.'

He text back mere minutes later asking if I liked the taste of him. When I replied that I actually REALLY liked the taste of him he sounded all confused by asking do girls actually really like the taste of cum. It got me thinking. Do we?

Personally, I like cum. If I don't want him to blow his load in my mouth, I will let him do it elsewhere on my body. Pulling out and coming on my stomach was a favourite of my ex of most recent times. Mainly because he hated wearing a condom and although I was on the pill and we were both clean, I was terrified of becoming pregnant. I did develop quite a liking though for seeing how far he could shoot and then watching the liquid turn from a milky white to a pearly translucent colour against the faded brown of my stomach. I also like for a guy to relieve himself into my open mouth and then for it to dribble down my chin and onto my chest. I will scoop a bit of it up with my fingers to have a sneaky taste and then that can decide for me whether to swallow for the next time.

I guess it depends on the guy because with past boyfriends some of them have been quite strong tasting. And those guys that have a distinct taste, I've made no excuses when it comes to leaving the room, walking to the bathroom and spitting it into the nearest receptacle. If I want to make some small effort I make sure there's a drink nearby, and as I come up I take a quick, discreet sip of whatever is there to help it go down easier. Then there is the rare occasion that a guy tastes, well not nice as such, but just ever so slightly salty and the taste of him goes down easy. And that's what Mr Monday is like. With him I relish tasting it and don't want to waste a drop, whether it means licking it off my own fingers or as it dribbles down his shaft.

I've heard that what men eat can change how it tastes. Being a smoker definitely effects it. An ex used to have a 20 a day habit and to be fair, I wouldn't let the stuff go down my throat. Drinking Pineapple juice is said to make it sweeter. This has been confirmed by a friend of mine. A very open minded guy who I'm in conversations with a few times a week has told me that he conducted an experiment on himself and drank plenty of water, ate fresh pineapple and stayed away from fatty foods. When he wanked himself off later that week he had a taste of himself and could confirm that while it still tasted like cum, it was indeed sweeter.

Personally I like a bit of notice as well before it fills my mouth. Taking him as far as I can and then him coming so it hits the back of my throat is a surprise that I could do without thank you. A bit of notice is just good manners in my opinion.

So tell a girl before you're going to blow fellas, and in order to make the experience nicer for us, chowing down on a few mangoes, grapes and peppermint would be greatly appreciated and rewarded. As they say in Sex and the City - 'They don't call it a job for nothing.'

Surprise Sunday

I can't move. I tried to negotiate the stairs and had to grip the bannister with such force that I forgot to let go and kind of half fell down the remaining steps as I opened the door and let him out. I can still smell the scent of him on my skin. Still taste his cum in my mouth. I don't know what it is about this guy that makes him so unbelievably intoxicating but I want more.

My Monday hook up got back from business this weekend. We had agreed to meet Monday cause he mentioned something to do with getting the office back to scratch and sorting out the paperwork and yadda yadda yadda. That was fine. The anticipation was a turn on. We'd been exchanging texts all week, started off all nicey nicey and ended being pure filth with us each describing what we wanted to do to each other. I was just moseying around the house when a message beeped through.

'How bout half 7? I can't wait to have you.'

Reading that one, singular message a tingle shot from the back of my neck straight down to my knickers. He wanted to see me tonight. Panic stations. Hair needs doing. Jeans and a tshirt? I don't think so, the cute dress. Hair all tousled and bed head. Eyes with a touch of eyeliner. Cute knickers. Good supportive bra. Tick to all. I felt ready.

He came round. No messing about I directed him straight to my room. I didn't care that I had a house full of people in the living room. With this one guy I can't think straight. I think of his cock during the day and my mouth waters. He texts me some delicious filth at work that upon reading automatically dampens my knickers. I knew that tonight, there'd be no talking. I was too hungry to fuck him that I wouldn't be able to hold a conversation down.

Pushing him onto the bed as soon as my door shut I wasted no time in straddling him, my teeth gently biting his bottom lip as my hands tugged at his hair. His hands went straight to my dress, tugging it to my waist and with one hand holding my ass the other hand slid into the elastic of my knickers.

'Fuck me, you're wet.'

I couldn't even answer, all I could do was smile at him as I pushed him onto the bed, unbuckled his belt and took his delicious cock in my mouth. The feel of him, the taste of him, the moans that escaped his lips all contributed to my knickers being soaked by now. Moving myself round so he could slide a hand up my skirt, he pushed two fingers into me that caused me to stop sucking him and stare at the wall. This guys hands are magical. I don't know what he's doing different to everyone else but it's something because when he does it I can't concentrate on anything else. I even have to stop going down on him and just hold his cock in my hand, throbbing and twitching, waiting until I can think straight and carry on.

Giving him a condom he rolled it on and instructed me to get on top of him. Normally I like it rough, hard and fast but with him I fuck him slowly, teasing him and all the while watching his face and gorgeous eyes as he looks back at me and uses his hands to hold my hips as he thrusts up underneath me. He then says that he thinks he's going to cum so I pulled my legs up so I'm squatting. The tip of his cock just resting at my opening, he tries to push up. When I shake my head he laughs and tells me that I make him so horny and he can't hold back. Leaning back slightly I hold down his narrow hips so he can't move too much and bob up and down on the head of his cock, occasionally sliding myself all the way down his shaft, listening to the sharp intake of breath from him as I do this until he can't take it any longer and tells me he needs to cum. Eventually I give him a break and let him blow. But even when he has he's still hard and continues to gently thrust inside me, causing me to claw at his chest, cup my breasts and today, I bite my own lip so hard so I didn't make any noise and only realised what I'd done when I tasted the metallic tang of my own blood on my tongue.

He told me he wanted his fingers in me. I could only nod my agreement at the idea as he shifted me so I was laying down and he was inbetween my legs. Using one hand to slam his fingers into me, the other was gently stroking himself. I don't know why but this was the sexiest thing I'd ever seen. His eyes had the cheekiest glint in them and as he continued with his fingers I could feel my juices on the sheet underneath me. Raising my legs up he buried his head between my thighs and started to tease me with his tongue. Using his fingers to open me up, he then started alternating between sucking and flicking his tongue over my clit. I felt my right leg start to give way, shaking, before the left one followed suit and I knew I was getting close. Telling him to not stop I tensed up just as I felt him deliver the final flick of his tongue to send me over the edge and before I knew it I was coming harder than ever, causing me to shoot up before collapsing back in a heap on top of the sheets.

After that performance I had to thank him in some way so switching round I positioned myself to the side of him and got to work with my mouth again. Little droplets of pre cum were stared to gather at the shaft that I greedily licked at, eager to have him fill my mouth, taking him down as far as I could go, using my tongue to swirl over the shaft and under the glans, I carried on licking, sucking and using my hands until I heard him say he was gonna blow again and I felt my mouth fill up with his warm cum. With him I relish tasting it. It must have been a particularly big orgasm cause after he'd emptied himself in my mouth and laid back down the cum was still continuing to dribble down his cock, which I wasted no time in gently licking off, even though it caused him to jerk and shudder every time my tongue touched him.

We lay down for a while after, both of us spent. He planted gentle kisses on my shoulders and neck before he had to leave to get back to the office. I had to ask, as he'd been round tonight, did that cancel out our meeting for tomorrow then? Yes I am being greedy but sex with this guy is so intense it's all I can think of.

Turns out he's just as greedy because upon leaving he kissed me and said he'd see me tomorrow.

Sorry for the hold up folks

I caused a queue to form today in my local Boots.

I had decided that I needed a quick re-stock on condoms as, not to jinx myself, but if all goes well, I should be getting some action on Monday (fingers crossed).

Discussing with my friends that I won't let a guy near me without anything on they asked if I was serious. When I mentioned that in all honesty, I can't really tell much difference if a guy has one on or is going bare, they laughed and asked if I was dead inside or if I was indeed even doing it right. Something I find rather amusing thinking of it. They will sleep with people, the only form of contraception being the pill and yet I'm the crazy one for enjoying it up the ass? Go figure. So yes, I am a girl who plays it safe. I am a firm believer of 'No balloon, no party'! And I will continue to stick to that fact. I take my sexual health very seriously (note to self, book a check up - just to err on the safe side after all) so I will always insist that a guy uses protection if he wants things to go further. I've never had anyone say no, and to be fair if they did, they'd either have to leave or make do with a night of kissing. His call.

So in the condom aisle I'm perusing. I usually only buy boxes of 3 (sex before being quite few and far between) but looking at the 3 pack they were priced at £2.99. Glance slightly to the right and the box of 12 were priced at £5.81. Well I know it's a bit extra but surely this seems to make more sense of value for money. So I grabbed the box of 12, my trusty eyeliner and headed to the tills. Scanning it through she announced it would be a grand total of £12 something or other. Exsqueeze me. Now I didn't get good grades in my maths (since when do I need to know if x and y are added together what does it make?) but £5.81 plus the £2.50 for my eyeliner came to £8.31. This checkout wench was trying to con me out of nearly £4. Does she not know I'd just spent all my money on C.D's? So she asked if I could go and double check when I pointed out her mistake. Of course, I'd be glad to. I would, however have said no though if I'd have known it would just waste three minutes because once I returned to the ever growing queue of middle aged women buying Radox, she had to send a supervisor to double check. I could hear the tutting behind me so I pretended to send a text. Thankfully it was all worth it as I was right and checkout girl had made a mistake. If it had only been an extra pound I'd have let it slide, but it was nearly £4. I don't think so. My mother would have been so proud of me.

So paying for my eyeliner and condoms I handed the money over and popped the items in my bag. Tut away old woman and raise your eyebrows to show you're disgusted at me for not only holding up the queue, but doing so for condoms. But I'd rather not catch anything thank you and safe sex can be rather expensive so I'm just trying to save some money wherever I can.

The First Slap

I'd been thinking about previous experiences on my walk home yesterday. I have a long commute and to pass the time my mind wanders. Yesterday was all about did I actually have the courage to write about the sex I've had and will hopefully continue to have? I figured that I should just go for it and if anyone had the slightest inkling it was me, delete and deny is a firm policy I believe in. I've drunk text plenty of times to know that it's completely acceptable now.

So, always start at the beginning and work your way round my teachers at school told me when it came to creative writing. After finding Uncle Nick's Blog last night, I figured I could mention not only my first ever one night stand, but also the first time I was spanked.

So here goes my first post. University was something I knew I wanted to do. Living in my town and working at my local supermarket I knew that if I didn't go I'd end up staying put and waking up one morning at 30 wondering what the hell had I been doing with my time. So I enrolled and got accepted at one not too far from my hometown, did a course that at college I really enjoyed and settled into my halls and Uni life. I won't say I wasn't scared. When my mother left me alone with my belongings in boxes I laid on the bare mattress and cried. Eventually pulling myself together I figured the best plan of action was to unpack my room, make it more homely and then go check out the Student Union bar with the rest of the Freshers. Luckily a friend from college had come to the same uni. It was nice to know someone I knew and liked and had a laugh with was 5 minutes away. This cemented our friendship. If I was upset, happy or heartbroken I'd go to her and vice versa. And if one of us pulled, the salacious gossip was shared over a pint in the local.

Going out on a themed night together we met two boys who looked familiar. I'm sure I'd passed them in the library and between dashing to lectures but I'm a particularly shy person and would never go over and say hi. She was more outgoing and so wandered over to chat to them. It worked for us. Blokes would like the fact she was loud and able to not only talk, but understand manly things and then appreciate the fact that although I was quiet, I was by no means a bore. I have good timing when it comes to one liners and being quiet meant I was able to survey people. Which is how on the night out I came to quite like the look of the guy who introduced himself as Tom. He was blonde and grungy looking, with a delicious looking lip ring and on my quick once over, what appeared to be a well kept body underneath his top. The 4 of us spent the night downing shots and drinking the special offers like it was no-ones business, until Tom and I quickly found a way to excuse ourselves and head to the taxi rank. This would be the first time I'd ever gone home with someone but I was just drunk enough to give me the confidence to do it. So I directed the taxi back to mine, I refused to do the walk of shame then and I still do now. Falling into my room we wasted no time in clothes being taken off. I was right, the guy had a body like I'd never seen before. As he towered over me unbuttoning his shorts I was trying to wriggle out of my skirt. No need, with one deft movement he pulled it off, swiftly followed by my knickers and got onto the bed with me. Mashing his lips against mine his hands travelled down until they met between my thighs and whilst his thumb gently stroked my clit, he slowly slid a finger in me, quickly followed by another. His fingers matched his kisses - rough. Knowing what I know now I'd have loved it, but with it being my first sexual encounter with a near stranger I was still rather inexperienced. He knew what he wanted and that was to fuck me rough, then leave. If I slept with him now I'd be fine but at the time I was naive and completely unsure of what to do so he pretty much took the lead. Driving his fingers in me till I was suitably wet he moved so he was in between my legs, rolled a condom on, and with one hand held my wrists together above my head and with the other directed himself into me. The sex was good, I remember that much. And he knew exactly what he wanted so there was no awkward 'Is this ok'? or 'Erm, will you go on top?'. Instead, after pounding away for a good while, he grabbed my right leg and swiftly turned me on to my front. Pulling my hips to meet him he slid himself back in again. He fucked me like this for some time, which was all normal, nothing out of the ordinary for me, until he grabbed a handful of my hair and gave it a quick pull. No one had ever done that before. Was he pulling my hair? He did it again, this time with some more force. Strangely I liked it. That was fine. Then I felt his palm strike my bum cheek. Had he just slapped me? I was rather confused about this. He carried on slamming himself into me and every few minutes would administer another slap across my cheek. They started off relatively soft until after ten minutes my right cheek was hot. I couldn't see it but I was pretty sure it was red. I'd never had someone do this and was rather confused as to why he was doing it. He carried on slapping and fucking until he came. I remember him leaving me tangled in the sheets, confused as hell, putting his clothes on and then leaving my halls.

I shot out of bed as soon as I heard the main door slam shut with a bang and headed to the mirror. Swivelling round I saw that I was right. My right bum cheek was hot pink, compared to the left one. The next morning there was a slight bruise when I went to meet my friend and find out how her night fared. She asked why I was sitting down so odd. I had to tell her I had a bruise on my bum as Tom had slapped me, quite a few times, and rather hard I might add. We were both as confused as each other as to why he did this. Back then I was young, it was my first time away from home and I'd also just experienced my first one night stand.It wasn't until I got older and was with someone I trusted that I realised I quite liked being spanked. But more on that for another time.

I never saw Tom again.

The Beginning

I'm no different to any other girl. I have a soft spot for shoes. I adore chocolate. And spending time with my circle of friends with a bottle of vino is my idea of heaven. And with my friends we can talk about anything.

How much I want those shoes from Topshop but my rent is due - Check.

How much of a bitch is **** being lately? - Check.

Did you see how fit that bloke was? - And check again.

But when the subject of sex comes up the areas are a little greyer on what we can and can not mention. I'm not saying we're all entirely vanilla and believe sex should be done with soft music on in the background, scented candles lit etc, but even when there's a few empty bottles clinking on the table I know that there's some things that would cause embarrassment to flush over every ones faces and for it to be ignored.

If anyone mentions the words 'anal' and 'sex' in the same sentence people tend to screw up their faces and hurriedly move on from the subject so the mere thought of mentioning I actually enjoy anal sex and have done it on many occasion would be damaging to our social circle. They'd never be able to look at me again.

So this is what this blog is for. Entirely anonymous and intending to stay so, I just need an outlet to say and describe things that I've done or enjoyed or experimented in without the look of horror followed by the look of 'I remember what you said last night but I'll pretend I didn't' the next day.

I'm not incredibly articulate when it comes to writing about these things and will probably get the descriptions sounding all wrong but these last few months my sex drought has ended and for some reason, I've been hot property. I'm not claiming this is because I am incredibly attractive (I'd say I'm more cute) but more to do with the fact I'm willing to have no strings attached sex and not bother to call him the next day.

And I don't intend to stop any time soon either.