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Angela St. Lawrence is the reigning queen of high-end, long distance training and Femme Domme phone sex, providing esoteric depravity for the aficionado, specializing in Erotic Fetish, Female Domination, Cock Control, Kinky Taboo and Sensual Debauchery. To make an appointment or speak with Ms. St. Lawrence  ...


Archive for August, 2008


Saturday, August 30th, 2008

Yeah, we’ve got MILFs and GILFs (mothers and grandmothers [respectively] I’d like to fuck), and now the lovely Ms. Palin:

While I am a Barack Girl, I gotta say that McCain’s choosing Sarah Palin is the smartest thing he’s done so far.  The republican party is suddenly sexy hot. 

I’ll leave the pondering of what all this means to the political bloggers.  I just am happy to sit back and watch it all unfold.  And to wait for the day coming just around the corner when no matter which way the country votes history will be made. 

In the meantime … come on guys, fess up … isn’t Sarah Palin a Veep you’d like to fuck?

xo, Angela

Worship Black Cock

Friday, August 29th, 2008

You might recall my recent nod to the Kawasaki’s Festival of the Steel Phallus earlier this month.  Seems Sponge Bob, a regular caller and Zen blog reader who comments here and there, and has the interracial fetish thing going on along with some good old-fashioned forced cock-sucking  (don’t knock his kink and he promises not to knock yours), wants to know just exactly, Where’s the beef?   As we see from this morning’s comment on the above-mentioned entry:

But, Miss Angela, where’s the black cock?

Well, Spongey Baby, golly jeepers, it’s right here!

So you can get on you submissive slut knees and say your prayers to The Supreme Ebony Erectus. 

or ….

Forgo that fancy-schmancy festival voodoo worship crap and just get busy eating chocolate cock-sickle!

or ….

You can find all kinds of kinds of queerboy erotica RIGHT HERE!


xo, Angela


Tuesday, August 26th, 2008

A society that gets rid of all its troublemakers goes downhill

~Robert A. Heinlein

… those troublemakers being Jerotic and and Gracie Passette.

First a Bit of Naughtiness from Jerotic:

Movie Night
by Jeremy Edwards

The moment that I walked into the den and saw Jocelyn squatting on a plastic tarp in the middle of the room, pissing furiously through her lime panties–while she and the other women laughed uproariously and Steve Martin blithely continued his shtick on the 27" screen–I knew that this was not your average party.

"What in the world is going on in here?" I blurted, my eyes riveted on Jocelyn’s thick cascade.

"I *told* you this was ‘Laugh Till You Pee Night,’" said my friend Tina. Tina was rocking in an armchair, and she was wearing only a T-shirt, underpants, and tiny crew socks–which rubbed together as she intertwined her ankles. "You said you weren’t interested."

"I didn’t know you meant it literally," I said.

"Shh!" said another voice, from the couch–Caroline’s. I looked in that direction and, in the dim light afforded by the TV, I saw a couple of pairs of bare legs crossing and uncrossing. On the coffee table in front of Caroline and Denise, a population of empty beer bottles flickered their part of the story.

"I just thought you were going to watch some comedies," I persisted.

Jocelyn had finally finished peeing. She stood up, smiling radiantly, and smoothed her hands over her soaked panties. "Hi, Ted," she said, acknowledging me nonchalantly before seating herself on a beach towel. She now turned her attention back to the movie, and I could see that she was beginning to gently stroke herself through the dampness.

I had thought myself lucky this May when I’d found out that the house Tina and I had arranged to rent for the summer was going to be populated with what I deemed to be four of the most gorgeous women on campus–Tina and her three best friends. The reality, though, was that none of them seemed particularly interested in interacting with me. So, aside from my casual friendship with Tina, I’d developed a habit of keeping to myself. This was why I’d turned down her invitation to join them for what I thought would be a run-of-the-mill movie night.

I swallowed. "Do you girls do this often?" I asked Tina.

"Quiet!" said Denise.

Suddenly, the TV went dead. No power failure, no unplugged cord . . . just an appliance deciding to konk out forever.

"It’s not going to come back," Tina reported a minute later after fussing with the controls, her body dancing the whole time.

"Now what do we do?" asked Caroline from the couch, amidst a continuing flurry of crossing and re-crossing legs. "I’ve been looking forward to this all week!"

"I know. Same here," Tina replied. As she paced the room, I observed that her delicate minuet was approaching the scale of a tango. "I’m just about ready to do it, too."

"I’m not going to wet myself to a dead TV," said Denise. "I mean, what would be the point of *that*?" And with this remark she stood up from the couch, clutching herself, obviously ready to call it a night and head for a bathroom.

It took me only another instant to assess the situation and respond appropriately.

"I know some jokes," I said.


And then Gracie and Jerotic are gonna team up to make some (air) waves tomorrow night  — Wednesday, August 27, 2008 — on the The Cult of Gracie Radio Show

Now that should be very interesting.  But it’s all in good fun and of a good heart, as they are hoping to raise awareness for the Ultimate Burlesque, which goes to raise money for MacMillan CancerSupport.  How awesome is that?  And while you can always listen to the the archived show at a later date, if you listen in live, you can either email or call in with questions.

xo, Angela

Cleopatra Fuck Me Pumps

Sunday, August 24th, 2008

And you wondered why Mark Antony was pussy-whipped.

HDB (you’ve seen his comments regularly at this blog) recently visited the Metropolitan Museum of Fine Art, where he was checking out the Egyptian Exhibit.  He emailed me this picture with the subject line:

First Knock Me Down and Fuck Me Shoes.

Dontcha just love it?  Now, as HDB explained to me, these are legs to Egyptian furniture, possibly a chair or table.  But he prefers his first impression.  I’ve had such a good influence on him, don’t you think?

xo, Angela

(tons of foot, heel and stocking fetish pictures RIGHT HERE

Done in by Donne

Saturday, August 23rd, 2008

Elegy XIX: To His Mistress Going to Bed

Come, Madam, come, all rest my powers defy,
Until I labour, I in labour lie.
The foe oft-times, having the foe in sight,
Is tired with standing, though they never fight.
Off with that girdle, like heaven’s zone glistering
But a far fairer world encompassing.
Unpin that spangled breast-plate, which you wear
That th’eyes of busy fools may be stopped there:
Unlace yourself, for that harmonious chime
Tells me from you that now ’tis your bed time.
Off with that happy busk, whom I envy
That still can be, and still can stand so nigh.
Your gown’s going off such beauteous state reveals
As when from flowery meads th’hills shadow steals.
Off with your wiry coronet and show
The hairy diadem which on you doth grow.
Off with those shoes: and then safely tread
In this love’s hallowed temple, this soft bed.
In such white robes heaven’s angels used to be
Received by men; thou Angel bring’st with thee
A heaven like Mahomet’s Paradise; and though
Ill spirits walk in white, we easily know
By this these Angels from an evil sprite:
They set out hairs, but these the flesh upright.

License my roving hands, and let them go
Behind before, above, between, below.
Oh my America, my new found land,
My kingdom, safeliest when with one man manned,
My mine of precious stones, my Empery,
How blessed am I in this discovering thee.
To enter in these bonds is to be free,
Then where my hand is set my seal shall be.

Full nakedness, all joys are due to thee.
As souls unbodied, bodies unclothed must be
To taste whole joys. Gems which you women use
Are as Atlanta’s balls, cast in men’s views,
That when a fool’s eye lighteth on a gem
His earthly soul may covet theirs not them.
Like pictures, or like books’ gay coverings made
For laymen, are all women thus arrayed;
Themselves are mystic books, which only we
Whom their imputed grace will dignify
Must see revealed. Then since I may know,
As liberally as to a midwife show
Thyself; cast all, yea this white linen hence.
Here is no penance, much less innocence.

To teach thee, I am naked first: why then
What need’st thou have more covering than a man.


*sigh*  Yup!  I’d fuck him.

Sorry, Avon Bard, I do like John Donne more than Shakespeare.  There’s just something a little more immediate about his stuff. Although you may quote the The Sweet Swan to me, for me, about me any time and I will continue to swoon.

The Works of John Donne

About John Donne

John Donne at Wikipedia