Get the World Aids Day animation embed code here

Statistics concerning HIV/AIDS:

• There are over a million estimated people in the USA living with HIV/AIDS (hhs.gov)
• 21% of people that are infected don’t know it (aids.gov)
• There are around 56,000 new cases of HIV/AIDS reported yearly (cdc.gov)
• In 2007, men accounted for 74% of new cases, African Americans accounted for 51% of new cases, and most new cases fell within the age range of 20-49 (cdc.gov)

Project (RED)

Founded by Bono to aid in the fight against AIDS in Africa, Project (RED) has raised over $140 million dollars globally and  helped over 80,000 people suffering from AIDS in Africa receive care and treatment. 

For purchases made on December 1st:

• Starbucks will donate 5 cents for every handcrafter beverage purchased.
• Gap will contribute 1% of their generated revenues from their stores in the US and Canada.
• Dell will double their contributions to (PRODUCT)RED™ from of Nov. 26-Dec. 2.

You can also show your support for World AIDS Day by:

• Wearing a red ribbon, or the color red.
• Purchasing Project (RED) products.
• Making a donation to Project (RED) or other AIDS charities
• Getting TESTED!

__________________________________________

Project (RED) Blog: CLICK HERE

Join (RED): CLICK HERE

(RED) on Twitter: CLICK HERE

(PRODUCT) RED Special Edition iPod: CLICK HERE

(COFFEE) RED Whole Bean Coffee:  CLICK HERE

(RED) products via Google: CLICK HERE

__________________________________________

xo, Angela

Info/Stats via EXAMINER Dot Com

I guess I’ve got a case of readers remorse.  As in … Boy, did I do something really stupid last week when, for the first time ever, I picked up a People magazine.  Something on the cover caught my interest, and I thought why not?  My bad.  Talk about much ado about nothing.  Who reads this stuff?  There is nothing there but fluff and air — such silliness.  Okay, yeah, I’m saying this just after having returned from the nail salon.  But still ….  Is it too much for a girl with pretty French Nails ( who, by the way, can type very well with them) to ask for a little substance in her reading?

It surprises a lot of my readers and callers that I’m uber-feminine, yet eschew pop-gossip (I find my own life much more interesting) and detest fashion magazines (80 percent ads and who are they to tell me what to wear?).  I actually prefer something more substantial — meat and potatoes rather than tofu surprise, thank you very much.  In case you’re wondering:  Yes, this very much carries over into my sexual dalliances, capers, and pursuits.  When it comes to men, sexy is smart and smart is sexy … dummies move on, please.

But back to that reading thing.  As a child, from the time I was in first grade, I’d been permitted to read the Sunday funnies.  But at 8 years old, I rebelled.  I took the funnies back to the kitchen (where my mother and father, drinking their morning coffee, were reading the "big people" parts of the paper) and handed them back to my parents, saying, "I don’t want to read this anymore.  It’s stupid."  And so was handed the Society Pages, which shortly led to the Community pages, which shortly led to the front pages, etc.  But never, ever the Sports pages.  Just wanted to make that clear. *grin*

Then around fifth grade I began reading Reader’s Digest.  In sixth or seventh grade, I discovered Time and Newseek.  In highschool, I continued with Newsweek, ditched Time, and lapped up every issue of Writer’s Digest cover to cover.  Newsweek was still my main squeeze in college, but I kinda-sorta was its cuckoldress, fluttering the lashes of my sheep’s eyes at The New Yorker, Vanity Fair, Harpers, Smithsonian and even National Geographic.  Then there were the one night stands with one glossy ofter another — too many to remember.  Hey, plop an Appalachian girl into the center of Academia with the flash of big city lights beckoning from the horizon and what do you expect?

These days, being an all grown-up girl, I’m kinda-sorta torn between two lovers: Newsweek and The Atlantic Monthly.  Now my beloved Newsweek and I’d actually settled into a comfy monogamy for the last few years.  But there I was at my physician’s office, late as usual, my time moved back so that three to five of the patients would get to go ahead of me now, since I obviously needed to be taught a lesson on responsibility by the all-powerful minimum wage receptionist.  .

But I digress.  What was I saying?  Oh, yeah, The Atlantic Monthly.

Well, I guess you’ve figured out that the magazine I fished from the table was The Atlantic Monthly.  While I can’t remember what I read as I sat there stalwartly taking my punishment with barely a stentorian sigh or weary grimace, I do remember falling in love.  So much so, that I pilfered that magazine and brought it home.  No, I’m not in the habit of lifting reading material from the sundry waiting rooms I’ve occasionally and briefly occupied.  But I wanted to read the magazine from cover to cover and I wanted to order my own subscription ASAP.  Which I did and I did.

So now I’m finally getting around to what this somewhat mindless meandering has been leading up to.  You might remember that last month, as a PSOetry entry, I’d presented the poem, Cathedral – and said I’d be asking you about it the next time we talked.  And we have talked, haven’t we Puzzler, Professor, PQS and HDB?  And we talked about the poem, so the four of you already know — as I’m about to tell the rest of my Zen readers — that this particular poem came from … yes, you guessed it:  the pages of The Atlantic Monthly.  But guess what?  It was from the online version of The Atlantic Monthly, where right on the Internet you can access it anytime you want — which, obviously, I am highly recommending. 

Why?  Because the writing is divinely intelligent and eclectic — covering politics, fiction, poetry, national and international news, and stuff … lots of stuff!

ie.

• Goodly yummily writing from James Fallows
• Texas Justice Gone Awry
• Famous and Fucked (over, that is)
• 2008 Election — A Perspective
• Fiction, Fiction AND MORE FICTION!
• Google for Dummies
• And, yes, there are PODCASTS
• The Girls:  Hillary and Sarah
• Interview with poet Philip Levine
• Pornography and Us (that would be me and u)

Is that eclectic enough for you?  Are you feeling it?  The deliriously electric thrill of it all? And that is just a teensie-weensie smidgen of what is available.  Read through just a few of the above cutesy-chocolatey links and I bet you fall head-over-heels just like I did on that fine sunny day when I was kinda-sorta under house arrest.  What’s really fun is that you can sign up for a Newsletter,  The Trans-Atlantic (sample newsletter), and know exactly what’s up and where to find it.  Because it’s link love, baby cakes, and with a clickety-click you’ll be right where you want to be.  Or else you can hang out in higher-end waiting rooms and score your very own print version.  I mean, after all, it worked for me.

Oh how I love this magazine and how I love you and how I love the Internet.  (Well, the Internet is more like a love-hate thing, but we’ll leave that can of worms for another day.)

… and yes, boys, I will be asking questions.  So read up!

xo, Angela

it’s the bitch in her ~by Angela

it’s the bitch in her
that keeps you on her dotted line
signed, sealed, delivered
your signature, her hand
done deal

used up and faded blue
the new you
(after all)

after all:
buckled down and tied up
your twisted tongue and caught breath
searching for sonnets

searching for sonnets
on hobbled limbs
and always bended knee
to sing, to plead, to offer alms
to your silent siren
who never listens, never speaks
who only hears her own measure

it’s the bitch in her
that keeps you here and keeps you hers:
her cheap fetish
her pygmy romeo
her corrupt fuck

it’s the bitch in her
that’s taken you down
rubbed you raw
cut you clean
wiped you out
bled you, bled you, bled you

it’s the bitch in her
that fucks with you
fucks you up
fucks you over
and doesn’t give
a flying fuck about any of it

it’s the bitch in her
that has your attention
your cock, your devotion, your heart

it’s the bitch in her
that makes you her bitch

***

What I’m trying to say is that I finally finished moving my FREE erotica blog, Blistered Lips to it’s own Web address and hope you visit often.

The above poem is one of my newest entries and has proven quite popular so far..

***

And…thanks to Mistress V for being the original hostess of Blistered Lips and for being a very good friend.  If you’re a blogging neonate, eager to get your “blogging feet” wet, check out Mistress V’s Vixen Blogs, where you can blog away to your heart’s content at absolutely no cost.  Mistress V even has low-cost hosting plans and will help you transfer to your own domain when you’re ready to upgrade and strike out on your own.  It’s where I got started and look at me now? (No groans from the Peanut Gallery, thank you very much.)

And while you over there, you can still find me–glad to still be hanging out with Mistress V–plugging away at Pardon My French, my collection of sexy quotes.

xo, Angela

Very Dirty.

Even very, very dirty.

And he’s a sissy, no less. But more about that later. For now, I just want you to check out his talent. For the record, I think Sweat Shop Sissy rocks!

Half-Nekkid Sloppy Seconds

♀ works early mornings and is usually gone by the time I get home from work, but since she’s been going to school her days off are now mid-week. This past Wednesday night as I was leaving for work, she insisted that I call to wake her up when I was on my way home so she could get up and make me breakfast. I told her I’d probably be done early and was she sure she wanted to be woken up at 4:30am.   She insisted, so I called. I was a nice guy and picked her up a coffee on the way home. 

She greeted me wearing a skimpy red nightie and a smile and we had a very nice breakfast together (eggs with diced red peepers and cheese in wraps with strawberries and starfruit on the side; in case you wondered). After breakfast we had a shower together. That’s usually a night time activity for us, but she’d changed the bed the night before and really, is there anything nicer then shower clean and linen fresh? 

We were both tired, but we made love. Quietly and efficiently would probably be a good description. Not that it was without passion. It’s just we needed to get to sleep, we both know what buttons to push and we both got what we needed with a minimum of effort. We fell asleep quickly while I spooned her. My wet cock nestled between the cheeks of her ass, my hand holding her breast. 

♀ got up about two hours later to get ready for school. I played possum, watching her surreptitiously as she got ready for her day. First she peaked outside to see what kind of day it was then she picked out all her clothes and set them on her dresser. Next she examined herself in our two bedroom mirrors. She checked her breasts; frowned at the scars from her reduction and smiled at my hand print still visible on her right tit. She grabbed her belly fat with both hands and gave it a good shake. She examined her pussy then sniffed her fingers and as she was turning around to check her ass in the mirror I caught a glimpse of our dried love-making juices on her inner thighs. 

She started getting dressed; first her bra, the new white one that does up in the front and a low cut blouse. Next the purple boy shorts with the tie at the back and the tight capri jeans. She sat on the edge of the bed to pull her socks on and I grabbed her and pulled her over. You can’t imagine how horny I was from watching my wife get dressed. I was ravenous, I had to have her. I tore at her clothes. I kissed her hard. I tongue-fucked her ear. I bit her neck. I squeezed her breasts together and pushed them up to her face. I pushed one nipple into her mouth while I bit the other one. I licked and nibbled my way down, down towards her pussy. Her outer lips still had my dried cum on them, and when I spread her apart, there was already a steady stream of fresh pussy juice. I dove in and ♀ started talking. 

“My, my you certainly are an excited little boy today. Were you listening at the bedroom door when Daddy & I were making love? What have I told you about doing that? Do you like how I taste Baby? Do you like licking Daddy’s seed out of Mommy’s hot little cunt?” 

I pushed her legs up towards her chest and started licking her ass, plunging my tongue as deep into her rosebud as it could go. 

“Oh Baby, you know how much I love it when you play with my ass. You’re the only one I let do that.” 

I moved up and sucked hard on her clitty, then down through her pussy to lick the juices that had pooled on her asshole; her juices, my juices, Daddy’s juices. I wanted to crawl inside her cunt and eat her from the inside out. 

“Are you going to come all over the sheets like a sissy Baby or are you going to fuck me?” 

“Get on you knees.” 

“You’re so cute when you try to be forceful. Are you going to try and fuck me like a real…?” 

I grabbed her hips and entered her fully in one hard thrust. She gasped and didn’t say anything for a few moments; just moaned while I fucked her incredibly wet pussy. Squelch, squelch, squelch. 

“Is it me that’s got you so excited, or is it the sloppy seconds that have you so turned on Baby?” 

I felt her reach underneath and cup my balls. 

“That’s it isn’t it Baby, you just love knowing there’s another man’s cum all over your cock and balls.” 

I pulled out for a second and went back down to lick up some of the excess girl goo, finger fucked her then moved back up between her thighs. I thrust back into her cunt and started playing with her ass with my pussy lubed fingers. I worked one then two fingers into her tight asshole. I could feel the shaft of my cock through her lining. 

“You like touching yourself like that don’t you Baby? I bet you’re imagining it’s another man’s cock sliding along yours. What would be more of a turn on for you Baby, feeling another man’s cock rubbing against yours or seeing Mommy getting both her holes stuffed at once?” 

Then I did something I’ve never done before. I slapped her ass. Hard. She yelped, my hand tingled and there was a perfect red imprint of my hand on her right cheek. 

“You better not do that again, Baby. If Daddy sees marks like that on me, he’ll spank you with his belt.” 

I slapped her again and again and again until her right butt cheek was a bright rosy red. Then with the two fingers still in her ass I felt something ♀ has often described. Through her lining, I could feel my cock thicken (a lot) then stream after stream of cum being pumped into her. When I was spent, I disengaged fingers and cock and she rolled over onto her back. Her pussy was a beautiful gooey mess and her fingers were already circling her clit. 

“I really need to come now, Baby.” 

I moved up to the head of the bed and reached over to her night stand. She took my still dripping cock into her mouth while I pulled various toys out. I lay back down beside her and whispered in her ear. 

“Keep your eyes closed Mommy, I’ll help you come. You liked that as much as I did, didn’t you? You liked getting fucked by two different cocks in less then two hours, didn’t you? Guess what? I told some of my school friends about you? I told them how you let me fuck you. They didn’t believe me so I invited them over to see for themselves. You know what else? They video taped us today Mommy. I’ve got the whole thing on tape so now you’ll have to do exactly what I say or I’ll tell Daddy.” 

She kept her eyes closed and smiled, her fingers never leaving her clit, the flush on her cheeks moving slowly towards her neck. 

“All my friends are horny from watching us. You’re going to let them have their way with you, aren’t you Mommy? My first friend is Tommy, he wants you really bad.” 

And I slid her purple dildo all the way inside and slowly started fucking her. After a few moments I passed it up to her. 

“Tommy wants to fuck your mouth for awhile. Now I want you to meet Jimmy. He’s not as long as Tommy, but he’s a little thicker.” 

And I shoved the butt plug into her cunt. After a few minutes of that, 

“I think Jimmy would much rather be in your ass.” 

And I slowly worked the plug into place in her tight little ass. Tommy went into her pussy again then back to her mouth and then I introduced her to Bobby’s magic cock that could miraculously curl up like two thick fingers to stroke her G-spot. The flush on her cheeks had moved down to the tops of her breasts. 

“You love your mouth, cunt and ass all being fucked at the same time don’t you Mommy? 

“Yes Baby, I love being a slut. I love being your slut.” 

“You know what else? I told my friends if they paid me $200 each I’d let them fuck any hole they wanted. That’s right, Mommy. Now you’re my whore and it’s all on tape. You fucked Daddy and me and three strange boys all in the same morning. I’ll never need to work again. I own you now.” 

“Of fuck yes Baby, I love that you’re my pimp, I live to be your whore, I love being a cum dumpster.” 

The flush had moved all the way down to her nipples when I felt the first few flutters in her pussy and when the first big orgasm started I curled my fingers and pushed up hard against the fleshy mound of her G-spot. Her fingers were a blur on her clit and when the second big O started, I slowly eased the plug out of her ass. 

Her legs went rigid and she arched her back so she was only touching the bed with her head and heels and then she FUCKING GUSHED. It was intense. It was amazing, it was awesome. I got right down there for a front row seat. I’ve seen it in movies and read about it, but holy freakin’ doodle…we were soaked! 

When she’d finally stopped coming, there were tears on her face, her braid had come undone, she couldn’t speak and she was really, really shaking. I held her for a long time afterwards, until she came back down to earth. 

We needed to have another shower and change the bedding again. She needed a nap and was late for first class. She doesn’t think that orgasms like that should be a daily kind of thing, but she’s been in a really good mood lately. 

Who says a sissy can’t be dominate once in awhile?

*** Isn’t he awesomely naughty? Here is the permalink to the story so you can bookmark it.

I’d added SSS’s link to my Hot Blog section in the sidebar about a month ago after discovering his blog quite by accident. I was totally enamored and have been meaning to introduce Zen readers to him ever since. And I have more to share with you.

But, for now, enjoy the afterglow (you were masturbating while reading that story, weren’t you?) and we will get to that in the very near future. xo, Angela

Today we finish up Richard’s piece which he’s so generously shared with Zen Fetish.

If you haven’t done so already, be sure to read Part I and Part II before continuing. It’s been interesting reading commentary/reaction to the first two parts, which seems to reflect a bit of confusion regarding Richard’s purpose in writing this bit of “specualtive D/s Fiction.”

But it really isn’t that complicated. As Richard explains (click link to read more): “I wrote it many years ago to give dominant women that I met online a picture of my perception of Femdom relationships.” Anyway, let’s see how this “Imaginary Femdom Encounter” turns out:

Fantasy Mistress: Part III

As I went up the walkway I wondered how she’d test me today. And what the tests proved. And when they’d end. We actually exchanged a fair amount of email before she’d agreed to see me. We shared complimentary appetites: she like to do to men what I wanted done to me (or at least I thought: since I’d never done any of it I didn’t really know).

The door opened for the third time.

“Go to the back yard and wait for me.”

As I did so I wondered if she was going to have me mow or lawn. The fear of something like that dampened my enthusiasm but I couldn’t bring myself to stop now.

She walked out. Dressed in a pullover top, cut-off jeans, and cheap rubber sandals, “flip flops” my mother used to call them. She’d always been dressed casually before but I’d been too hyped up to really notice the actual clothes.

She went over to a pick-nick table made of greenish wood.

“Sit here. Put your right hand’s palm down on the table.”

As I complied I noticed a wooden ruler in her hand.

“You are to keep your hand flat. I’m going to give you ten strokes. If that is too much for you leave and don’t come back.”

I barely had time to steel myself before the first slap hit. But it wasn’t that bad. At first. By the fifth stroke it really stung. My fingers felt like I might not be doing much with them tomorrow but it was almost over. I thought. An eleventh stroke hit me. A twelfth. With the thirteenth she turned the ruler so the edge cut into my fingers.

I yanked my hand away.

When I realized what I’d done I wanted to cry. I’d failed and would have to leave. But when I looked at her she looked pretty pleased.

“Don’t worry, you weren’t supposed to be able to take the last one. Once you got past the first ten you’d passed the test. The others were to teach you that no matter what I say I’m going to do I can still do whatever I want.”

“You have one last test. Come with me.” Shortly we were back in the room whose corner I’d knelt in. This time there was a big wicker plantation style chain in the center. She sat in it.

“Come here, may kneel in front of me. Remember you still aren’t to speak.”

So excited I was trembling I did.

“You have no idea how many men want to be where you are now. But they don’t really want it badly enough. They don’t really want to serve.

“The first day you proved you were willing to work for you place in my service. Yesterday you showed enough determination to withstand boredom which was a much harder test. Today you had your first taste of pain. I like hurting men. If you hadn’t been able to take it you wouldn’t be suitable for me. This is your last test.

“You won’t think it hard when I tell you but it will take all of your willingness work work and to keep on even if you get bored or tired.

“I am very, very slow to orgasm. Your last test is to satisfy me with your tongue. You probably think this is a big treat.” She was right about that.

“But it will take longer than you think. If you manage it we’ll do all the things we wrote to each other about. Otherwise, you won’t have made the grade.”

Standing up she pulled off her top and dropped her shorts. She sat back down. Gesturing at her cunt she said “Get to work, slave.”

She was right. It was long. It was wonderful at first. Then it took all my determination to keep going. At the end it was wonderful again. And then I was hers.

***

What this story says to me more than anything is that Richard is most definitely not a wannabe sub. He is the REAL DEAL. And it also tells me that he is truly deserving of the title, Submissive Savant.

In the very near future I will be featuring another “fantasy” penned by Richard. A bit different than this one. Quite intriguing and of interest to more than a few of my callers and readers.

xo, Angela