Ava Adora

Fantasy Fullfillment?

2006-11-29T14:03:00.000-05:00

I've just acquired the materials for our tryst with a twist this weekend.

The main material: Cardboard.

any guesses Adora?

-M

Silent

2006-10-18T00:06:00.000-04:00

Yeah, I've been MIA again. So sue me. Sometimes I want to write, and sometimes, I don't. I can't force it.

My life has been less than stellar for the past 2 months or so. I'll deal; I always do. It tends to overwhelm, though, especially when my coping mechanisms refuse to co-operate.

I feel like posting a poem. Hooray for cop-outs! I'm failing utterly at articulating my thoughts, though, so I'll just let someone else articulate them for me.

Crystals

Diamonds overhead.
We walk on crystals
sharp as longing.
When you touched me
I thought my heart
would crash through
my breastbone to lie,
pulsing and impossible,
on your bed. A screen
door banged across
the lane instead.
We heard a late car
on the street. Summer,
that was. I wanted
the sea, an island, more.
You wanted tenderness.
I felt the bone and
cartilage that held
my heart. Dreamed
of crystals,
sharper, even.

-Guy Gavriel Kay

Technical Difficulties

2006-08-18T00:53:00.000-04:00

I am now the proud owner of several hot vids depicting M sodomizing himself. Really, it’s quite a collection.

I wish I could post screenshots of them, but something odd happens when I try to capture them using the Print Screen button (my usual modus operandi for screenshots.) I can paste them into Paint just fine, but then when I try to cut and paste the bit I want, all it pastes is a black square. I’ve tried playing the videos and capturing them from both Windows Media Player and the DivX player, and I get the same thing with both. I think it’s some sort of weird DRM, but I really don’t know.

Can anyone help me with this problem? There are some seriously hot pics in it for you if you do.

Ugh

2006-08-18T00:51:00.000-04:00

I suppose it’s a side effect of being sex-positive that you end up being suckered into taking nude pictures of your fifty-something roommate.

It’s a very funny thing. I gradually revealed this side of myself to him over the summer that we’ve been living together. He asked a lot of questions, and I found myself answering more truthfully than I do with most people.

But now, he’s decided that I’m the most open-minded person he’s met in a while, and he wants me to take pictures of him. In the buff. God only knows why.

I mean, I’m totally cool with nakedness in the abstract. If you want to take naughty pictures of yourself, be my guest. I do it myself, and enjoy it. But somehow, this attitude doesn’t translate into me wanting to see his...anything. I was going to put something more graphic there, and I just CAN’T EVEN BRING MYSELF TO WRITE IT. I’m no prude, not by a long stretch, but this squicks even me.

I guess part of it is the creepy factor. I’m only in this house with him for just over a week more, so it’s not that big of a deal, but I can’t help thinking that this is his attempt to get in my pants. My intuition in these matters is rarely wrong, so I can’t ignore it. I’m not afraid he’s going to rape me or anything, but I feel as though I’m being put into a very awkward situation. But I’ve made myself out to be so open-minded that I’d feel like a hypocrite if I backed out.

It’s harmless, really. I guess I’m just freaked out because I’ve never seen a guy over 25 naked in real life, ever. And it’s just so bloody weird! I would never ask someone who wasn’t either my boyfriend or a professional to take naughty pictures of me. It’s too fraught with potential problems.

So, should I do it? That question is probably moot since I’ve already agreed to it. Maybe I can take pictures with my eyes shut.

Or maybe I can just buy him a tripod and teach him how to use the self-timer. That’s what I did before my photographer-cum-darling came into the picture.

Sigh. One more reason to be ecstatic that I’m going back home soon.

Harvey Wallbanger

2006-08-17T00:52:00.000-04:00

Ouch! Looks like I’ll have to slow this down a bit using this position……

Rewind two days prior:

It was time to be earnest about carrying out task 2. A couple days earlier when I attempted the butt plug again and found that it still felt like my ass was being ripped apart, I switched to the dildo.

Lubed up, I put the dome up against my ass. Pushing it slowly plunges in. Ooo, this feels like reverse shitting. I feel the wide part of an object pass through the narrows, but going in instead of out!

I rotate the Dildo. It presses against my prostate. A couple minutes later lying on my back, my belly button depression has become Lake M’s semen.

Fast forward:

Man! I’ve been horny all day at work. I’m ready to be an exhibitionist tonight. Adora, you’re getting lucky!

My Mission: Fuck myself with the dildo and film the act.

Position Options: Lie on my back, Kneel on my bed, Lie on my side – All too boring!

Sitting back in my chair, I’m pondering, how do I want to do this? My wandering eyes stumble upon the perfect tool. Here’s a little impression I drew when I reviewed the film, of how the deed goes down.

|_ _____o
| \ ||
| /

Becomes

|_____o
|\ ||
|/

There it is ready for me, a purple, glistening dildo, taped to the wall. It wants my ass. I want to go up all the way. With the web cam placed below the dildo looking up to see the moment of insertion, I slowly edge towards the dildo. I let the dildo press against my ass. I start to push against it, wanting insertion. Ouch! Looks like I’ll have to slow down a bit using this position. I step back, purposefully relax and allow the dildo to enter me.

I have it angled in such a way that my prostate isn’t getting much play, but if I go slowly the feel of the sliding is good. I also supremely enjoy the wiggling sensation. I press my butt up against the wall, back arched and dildo in me as far as possible. I start slow and rhythmic gyrations. Mmmm!

The only thing I’d do differently is make sure I was at least partially aroused before I started! The pleasant effect of being even a little aroused is that a dick, half way to being a full fledged boner, is granted that status almost immediately when a butt plug or dildo is inserted. For instance, I put the butt plug in once, and then looked down a few seconds later and said, “Shit! Where did that come from!”

Adora has the videos now. I think she could be persuaded to showing a couple screenshots if she heard some pleases ;). Also, ask her to see the presentation video. I’ve given her a little foretaste of what she’ll see when she’s all strapped up ;).

Task 2 complete, Adora.

Anxiously, but not apprehensively, anticipating the moment of culmination,
Your loving bottom,
-M

Origin of Love

2006-08-14T00:55:00.000-04:00

Task 1

2006-08-12T13:24:00.000-04:00

How ironic. The day Adora’s package to me finally arrives I’m going with some friends to a gay bar. It’s like the butt plug and dildo she sent are the warm up exercise for later on in the night.

I knew the package contained something to do with my ass. I’m a good guesser. So opening the package I’m filled with a nervous excitement.

I’ve read the instructions, held and looked over the soon to be intruders, when I notice the box they were sent in says, “Yummy aren’t they?” – Suppose I’ll find out.

It’s ten months ago. I wake up in the middle of the night extremely aroused with a lovely boner. I caress my cock and body half groggily. I allow my hand to pass over my ass cheek. Unexpectedly it gets close to my ass. After pulling on my ass cheeks to apply some remotely given stimulation, I get up, find a piece plastic for a finger and Vaseline. With a finger inserted, I proceed to jerk off in record time. I’m extremely hard during the entire experience.

Today I’m short on time; my friends are due here in twenty minutes. Quickly, I boot up some porn to get myself in the mood. Then it’s time. I’ve lubed up the butt plug. It’s big, black, glistening, and waiting. It goes in easily for the first half of its length. There’s an increased amount of sexualized physical stimulation as it touches upon my prostate.

My instructions are to insert and jerk off. Sadly, I couldn't make it plug me up.. It hurt too much when the thick part tried to penetrate. So I resorted to wiggling the first half around. Mmmm! This prostate and ass play feels good. Like usual, bit of ass play and I’m coming before I know it.:)

Task 1 complete, Adora.

I'll be soon writing about Task 2.

Your loving bottom
-M

Nothing

2006-08-10T23:56:00.000-04:00

"Tie me down," he says. He's sitting in his office chair, shirtless, hair caked with the blue dye I'd just finished daubing on. I'd promised him something special to pass the time between applying and washing out, and I'd already spent an enjoyable few minutes kissing him and trying to avoid accidental contact with the colourful goop. His torso is freckled with blue.

I see the wisdom of his request and carry it out, winding our white nylon rope around the chair's arms and his. I tie it tight: too tight, maybe, but I ask him and he says it's fine. M finds it difficult to stay still. It's rare for him to come unless he's the active party, but we're going to conduct an experiment and see if forcing immobility has any effect.

"What should I do with my hands?" he asks, as I busy myself with removing his pants. Genuinely surprised and a bit confused, I look up into his blue eyes and say, "Nothing." His hands are tied. What other response could I give?

Naked now, he sits, legs sprawled, and fully clothed I straddle his knees and take my time, enjoying his lovely, lovely moans as I traverse his chest with my lips and push all the buttons I know. His cock rises like a drawbridge between us; it would be easier to ignore the Inco Superstack. I slide down and kneel between his legs, teasing him with little licks, tonguing his frenulum. I lap at his balls and am rewarded with deep moans. Stroking his shaft with one hand, I lick and suck his head and put my other hand on his thigh, feeling his body tense, his back arch towards me.

I continue, and he seems poised on the brink forever, his arms straining against their bonds. Finally, with an urgent cry, he comes, his cock pulsing in my mouth, his semen bypassing my tongue to shoot directly down my throat. I finish him off with a few last licks, and he proceeds to have the greatest post-orgasm reaction I have ever had the pleasure to witness: he laughs. At first it is just a chuckle, and then it is full-blown laughter, the kind that feeds on itself and makes you feel so damn good. The laughter itself is a kind of second release, almost as good as the first.

Feeling rather proud of myself, I untie him, and his hair having cooked enough, we wander to the bathroom to wash it out.

The experiment? An unequivocal success.

Topping

2006-08-10T20:36:00.000-04:00

Yeah, I've been MIA for a while. The muse just hasn't visited me lately, which is a shame, since I have a few things to write about. But in the meantime, I had an Idea to amuse me.

This Idea struck me about a week ago. I mailed a package to M to get the Idea rolling. He received it today. Here are the contents of the letter that accompanied said package.

Dear M,

So I'm starting the topping a bit early. I want you to be ready for when I come home. I want to know if shelling out $100 for a harness is worth it.

Task #1: Insert the enclosed buttplug and jerk off. Then, I want you to write about it and post it to my blog. Let me know when you get this and I'll send you an invitation so you can post to it.

Task #2: If Task #1 went well, I want you to fuck yourself with your new purple dildo. Again, write about it and post it to my blog. And this time, I want video of it as proof.

If you complete these tasks to my satisfaction, you'll be rewarded when I get home (and you'll have to write about that, too.)

Love ya,
Adora

Greetings, Fleshbotters!

2006-07-17T09:10:00.000-04:00

I think what you're looking for is here, but feel free to make yourself at home!

Handy tip #56

2006-07-13T01:51:00.000-04:00

For the guys in the audience:

If you ever find yourself getting an unwanted boner, here's a useful tip courtesy of my darling M:

Do long multiplication in your head. It'll go away in a jiffy.

When long multiplication becomes too easy, try long division.

(I'm high on BC bud right now, so jokes may appear funnier than they are.)

Love letter

2006-07-10T01:51:00.000-04:00

Is it normal to want someone this badly? Is it usual to harbor such lust that the mere sight of his hands, his large, strong, golden hands, turns me to silvery fire? I remember one night, playing pool in my parents' basement, watching his impossibly long arms, his fingers gripping the cue, and wanting him to bend me over the couch and fuck me right then. It took every ounce of my self-control to appear nonchalant.

I could write a thousand florid, purple words to describe his body; such an exercise would be almost, but not quite, as pleasurable as feasting on him in the flesh. He is beautiful like a thoroughbred horse is beautiful: all long limbs and graceful strength. He'll probably scoff at being called graceful, but he's not like other tall men. They are all awkward gangly arms and legs and rounded shoulders whereas he owns his height, and makes it sexy. When we went to Wreck Beach those few weekends ago, we swam naked and I, being cold, left the water before him. As I dried off I watched him, and was pierced neatly through by his unselfconcious beauty. He was like Venus emerging from the surf, only, you know, a guy.

The things he does to me, well, I've written about them before. He knows me, largely by intution. The wonder of that hasn't quite worn off yet. The sheer pleasure of it all, the constant fleshly wanting, is almost frightening in its intensity. Now that we're apart, we have phone sex and I, nonverbal as always, rub myself and listen to his familiar, low voice, cling to it until its sound and my imminent orgasm are the only things in my universe.

The amazing thing, the shocking thing, is that despite all this, I haven't, for a second, been afraid that I'm losing myself. I am no stranger to lust, but this is both alike and different, an all-consuming desire in which neither of us are consumed. Like Moses' burning bush.

On the last night of his recent visit, we lay together in my bed after sweet love had been made. He had his head on my chest, a switch for us as it is usually the other way around, and I was stroking his golden hair with painstaking tenderness, wanting to memorize the way it felt under my fingers, the sight of him, this easy companionship. I was suddenly seized with the desire, the need, to tell him something. The weight of it settled in my chest, and I could not let it out. In fact, I didn't even know what it was. I just knew that it was massively important.

He left before I could sort it out for myself, but I have since realized that it was only (only!) that I loved him, and there was no adequate way to express it. That is, perhaps, a fundamental problem with love: the inability to really show its depths. So I lust, and I fuck, and I long, and I have phone sex and write poetic missives and post them to my blog because these are the only ways I know, beyond those three flimsy, throwaway words, to demonstrate how much I really feel. The intensity, depth, magnitude of my love.

Crazy places I have had sex

2006-07-09T16:04:00.000-04:00

include, but are not limited to, the following:

- a university's sports field (at dusk).
- on the grass in front of a campfire with hungry raccoons surrounding us. (I think my dislike of raccoons originates from this moment.)
- a Cessna 172. In the air. With the pilot.
- a univerity dorm room occupied by a presumably sleeping roommate. We made use of both the bed and the closet.
- the front seat of a car in a busy parking lot.
- in the 7' by 5' by 2' crawlspace under concrete stairs in a university building.
- in the bowels of the service area of another university building.

Adding to this list whenever I can...

Would you let me...?

2006-07-01T03:58:00.000-04:00

I want your ass, my darling. I gave you mine, last week, and turnaround is fair play, is it not?

I want you on your knees, elbows against the bed. I want your back arched and that round, firm ass in the air: an offering to me. I want to look down at you the way you've looked down at me countless times before. I want to take you like you've taken me.

I want to feel your smooth skin, caress it with my hands and lips, and then redden it with slaps. You like to do that to me, you sexy, evil bastard; now it's your turn to find out what it's like. You'll love it - I know I do.

I want to watch you stroke your lovely cock while my fingers trail delicately between your cheeks. My tongue will follow the same path my fingers did, wet and a little ticklish, to stop at your asshole. Dirty, you say? No, not this. It's rather wonderful, actually, to lick you here. You'll be tense at first, but you'll relax when you realize how amazing it feels. When you're melting under my touch, when your cock is hard, when you want it badly enough, I'll lube up a finger and slip it inside you. I already know you love this. Keep touching yourself, but don't come. Not yet.

I bought something for you, baby. Your very own dildo. It's time for the penetrator to be penetrated.

I'll press it gently against your ass and it will slide in, slowly, slowly. Like I was, last week, you'll be surprised and pleased at how little it hurts. And how good it feels.

I'll work it slowly in and out of you, and, I imagine, you'll work your cock a bit faster. What a sexy, wanton scene it will be: you, tall, lithe, on your hands and knees, masturbating with a dildo in your ass. I can already hear the sounds you'll make.

Tell me, darling, what's it like to be on the receiving end? How does it feel for you? Do you want to come? Come for me, baby.

And you will.

Good boy.

Last weekend

2006-07-01T02:06:00.000-04:00

Last weekend, M came to visit. It had been almost two months since I'd seen him last. Needless to say, I now have no shortage of things to write about, but words are difficult for me right now. I must get everything down soon, lest I forget some of the lovely details, but I seem to be blocked.

Now that he's gone again, I miss him more than I thought possible. Certainly more than the first time we parted. A strange phenomenon, that. I don't understand it, but I sure am glad for it. Loving is such an exquisitely painful pleasure.

What I wouldn't give to feel his arms around me again.

Soon.

Ice Queen

2006-06-21T02:33:00.000-04:00

"It's all right for guys like you and Court to fuck everyone but when I do it I get dumped for innocent little twits like Cecile. God forbid I exude confidence and enjoy sex! Do you think I relish the fact that I have to act like Mary Sunshine 24/7 so that I can be considered a lady? I'm the Marcia fucking Brady of the Upper East Side and sometimes, I want to kill myself. So there's your psychoanalysis, Dr. Freud."

-Sarah Michelle Gellar as Kathryn Merteuil in Cruel Intentions

I think I was 15 years old when I first saw the film Cruel Intentions. I loved it. The decadent visual style, the opulent, colour-soaked sets and the beautiful clothes made me wish I inhabited that world. Ryan Philippe is a gorgeous man, of course, and he played Sebastian must more likeably than Rupert Everett did in the analagous role of Valmont in the French-language version of Dangerous Liasons. Both Reese Witherspoon and Selma Blair are painfully irritating in their roles, though. Selma Blair as Cecile is unrealistically naive, although her quirks are amusing, and Reese Witherspoon as Annette is just plain boring. There's nothing about her that I find compelling and I find it hard to believe that Sebastian could become so enamoured of her. I was, however, drawn to Sarah Michelle Gellar in the role of Kathryn.

She's the only strong, confident and interesting woman in the whole film. The rest are mere caricatures. That's why I found myself getting annoyed when I rewatched it recently: why is this strong woman the only character who is universally vilified at the end of the movie? Sure, she is deceitful, she sleeps around, she's fake. But so are the majority of the characters in the film, all of whom get away scot-free in the audience's eyes. Sebastian schemes just as much as Kathryn does, and he's practically a martyr (or a saint?) by the end. The only part of the movie where the writer seems sympathetic to Kathryn is the monologue I quote above. One gets a sense of Kathryn's inner turmoil and the things that drive her. Unfortuanetly, this kind of insight into her motivation is sorely lacking in the rest of the movie.

I think this speaks to the fear some people have of strong, sexually confident women. They somehow need to be marginalized in order for people to feel safe. Kathryn is written as an ice queen and cocaine addict. Others are called sluts, or written off in other ways. It just reminds me that no matter how far society has advanced towards sexual liberation (particularily for women) the more the old sterotypes are still alive and well.

Inexplicable

2006-06-17T01:47:00.000-04:00

I have nothing to say, except that I feel remarkably like I did when I posted this, last year. One of the only times I have ever outright lied on this blog, and yet it is also one of the most honest posts I've ever written.

Declaration

HNT #8

2006-06-07T23:49:00.000-04:00

Nothing particularily sexy or revealing today; just enjoying the feel of sand under my feet.

Beyond This Dark House

2006-06-01T03:09:00.000-04:00

Sorry...my creativity is a casualty of my fucked-up head. I'll be letting other people's words speak for me for now. No HNT tonight. Maybe tomorrow.

1.

And I was coming home
these past two weeks,
feeling my way,
letting the pace of walking
ease over barefoot stones.
Moving again
into the rhythms of
summer on the prairie,
rediscovering the steps,
hesitations,
the afternoon languor.

Last night over coffee
someone told me
you were also home.

2.

You've walked beside me,
never knowing,
for six years now.
We've been together
in so many places
as I travelled, under skies
with doubled moons.

Beyond this dark house
a train is running away
into the night plain.
We've all had
dreams break,
fantasies we shaped.

3.

Your restless fingers
in mine. A night lane.
Streetlamps before and behind,
shadows thrown two ways,

you will tell me:
'If I think about walking,
about actually walking,
I find it hard to move my feet.'

Still, a moment,
both of us,
suspended
like midsummer
at the centre of all
turning things.

You will raise your hands to my shoulders.
There may or may not be a moon.

4.

The train has long since
followed its tracked path
among the farms.

Far out in the very dark,
summer wheat is rising
from the rich, cared-for soil.

The shortest night wheels
past this window, stars
dropping behind the trees.

Somewhere there are bonfires
for St. John, somewhere
fires for the summer king.

5.

It's so late. For this,
for everything, for being still
awake beside a window.

Sure of very little tonight,
I do know, or remember,
as if from birth,

that here where we've both
returned, the yielded grain
has always been the oracle of the earth.

And so it is that risen wheat
I will try now to invoke,
without any easings of use

to guide me with rounded words
out beyond light
into the swaying fields

where the silos wait.
And lacking not only words
but also an unspinning thought

to thread upon the dark,
I will ask only that
we may each be whole,

together or apart,
in this unstrange place,
under the one moon of this sky.

- Guy Gavriel Kay

(I highly recommend this guy's book: Beyond This Dark House. He writes gorgeous fantasy novels, too, but that volume of poetry is his best work.)

First year redux

2006-05-31T01:39:00.000-04:00

A reader commented a while ago on my first year post:

"...it's a shame that a potential lifetime of right is being lost because
of a little wrong. If he's not shaming you, then don't shame yourself. When
you're in love, you fuck up. That's the nature of the thing. You open your
heart, and you're vulnerable, and it's scary, and you do things you later
regret. But you learn from it, and you stick with it, because what else can
you do? Nothing that's worth having is easy.Right now, you don't have what
you had. If you continue hiding, you may never have it again. Can you live
with that?"

After writing that post, I decided to contact the person in question. Yes, he's wonderful, and I probably have some lingering feelings for him, but I remembered all over again why we broke up. There WERE reasons; it wasn't a random, flighty thing as I probably implied in my first post. They were not things I could live with.

My memories tend to cloud after a very short time. I conveniently forget all the lousy stuff and remember only the good things. I remember sensations, feelings, smells, but rarely the way we used to argue about inane things or his occasional immaturity or his possessiveness. I guess this is a good thing in the grand scheme, but it means I'm prone to occasional bouts of intense nostalgia. Y'all were witness to one of those the other day.

I'm a bit of a transient, in more ways that one. At this point in time, I'm on my fourth city and my sixth boyfriend since I started university three years ago. I feel rootless sometimes, and alone, regardless of who's surrounding me. I wander partly out of necessity and partly out of a search for something better. Something that will hold me. Something to give me roots.

Because of this wandering, my relationships can sometimes feel truncated. Unfinished. I sometimes feel a need to revist them, to get closure so I can continue unfettered.

I'm feeling the need for a little closure right now. I am currently in contact with several old boyfriends, and it's starting to mess with my head. I need to clear the air with all of them and start over again.

What a jungle your heart becomes after a few years of dating. I'm dreading what I'll be like when I'm 35.

A Murder of One

2006-05-30T00:09:00.000-04:00

Blue morning, blue morning
Wrapped in strands of fist and bone
Curiosity, kitten
Doesn't have to mean you're on your own

You can look outside your window
He doesn't have to know
We can talk a while, baby
We can take it nice and slow

All your life is such a shame, shame, shame
All your love is just a dream, dream, dream

Are you happy where you're sleeping?
Does he keep you safe and warm?
Does he tell you when you're sorry?
Does he tell you when you're wrong?

I've been watching you for hours
It's been years since we were born
We were perfect when we started
I've been wondering where we've gone

All your life is such a shame, shame shame
All your love is just a dream, dream, dream

I dreamt I saw you walking
Up a hillside in the snow
Casting shadows on the winter sky
As you stood there, counting crows

One for sorrow
Two for joy
Three for girls
Four for boys
Five for silver
Six for gold
Seven for a secret never to be told

There's a bird that nests inside you
Sleeping underneath your skin
When you open up your wings to speak
I wish you'd let me in

All your life is such a shame, shame, shame
All your love is just a dream, dream, dream
Open up your eyes, you can see the flames, flames, flames
Of your wasted life
You should be ashamed

You don't wanna waste your life baby

I walk along these hillsides
In the summer 'neath the sunshine
I am feathered by the moonlight
Falling down on me

Change, change, change

- Counting Crows

I did it...

2006-05-28T03:30:00.000-04:00

I finally plucked up the courage to get my VCH. I'd walked past the studio (Next! in Vancouver, if anyone's interested) three times over the past week before I forced myself to go in today. I am such a chickenshit some days. It's a cool place though. They have fantastic decor; the room I got pierced in has this chair that lookes like something Elvira would sit in, sort of spiderwebby with candle holders.

I'm not going to lie, it hurt like a motherfucker for about a half-a-second. But then it was all over. And my piercer was very cute, so that eased some of the pain.

I just washed it before sitting down to write this, and though it didn't hurt on the way home, it stings a bit now from the prodding. But it looks so pretty! I keep pulling down my pants to look at it. Is that weird?

So now I just have to keep it clean and keep my hands off it for the next 2 weeks or so. That is going to be incredibly hard, but it's worth it to have such a decorative cunt!

Part 2 of why Adora is very, very lucky

2006-05-27T00:33:00.000-04:00

(The following is probably not too appealing to heterosexual males and/or lesbians, but everyone else, enjoy!)

Click here for more!

From last night's webcam festivities:

That's my M: all 7.5 inches of him. Seriously, we measured.

What a fox.

I'm salivating on my keyboard.

HNT #7

2006-05-25T00:39:00.000-04:00

This picture is the last of that series, I think. I have more, but they all show my face. Next week: a fresh series, possibly featuring a shiny new bauble!

Benefits

2006-05-23T00:13:00.000-04:00

One of the best parts of telling M about this blog is that I get to post pictures of him! Ladies and gentlemen, I give you:

my boyfriend's killer six-pack abs! I am one lucky girl. *squeal* Too bad they're across the country from me right now.