Say it out loud.

Go ahead.

It’s a very sexy word and quite liberating to feel it crack (pun intended) from the back of your throat and into the front of your mouth. Then spit it through your lips and out into the bright light of day. Where you can look at it and see that it just isn’t as bad as the sexual snobgoblins would have us believe.

No, don’t whisper it. Speak it.

Sing it. Growl it. Scream it.

Cunt.

Now don’t you feel better?

If you’re the type who craves to be pussy-whipped by a hot, young, hard-bodied princess, have I got a girl for you! Princess Crissy of Pussy Denied is truly a princess among wanna-be royalty.

I’ve done three-way calls with her and was in absolute awe of her ability to cut a man down to size. With the voice of an angel, the pubescent body of a teenage succubus and absolutely the cruelest of intentions, Princess Crissy ( aka Fiesty Sassy Lil Brat ) is one powerful little package of dynamite.

When you tangle with Crissy, you are in for the ride of your life. She happens to be one of the best (if not THE BEST) humiliatrixes on the Net today and will deliver Grade A+ devastation. You will drool, ache, beg, plead and possibly even cry.

And, because she controls you with such charismatic grace and sensual authority, you will love every minute of it. She might even let you cum.

But she might not.

Call her soon. And tell her Angela sent you.

***The rating you see at the beginning of this entry is a “CRISSY ORIGINAL.” Is she special or what? See why I love her?

Traversing from here to there and everywhere in between on the WWW, particularly the naughty parts (which, contrary to sexual snobgoblin twaddle, are busy little concourses of activity), there exists a fiction or myth or fantasy –I refuse to believe it is a reality– that most women are “size queens.”

Websites which cater to this particular “fetish” abound and somebody must be making money because there is a veritable plethora of raunch to sift through once you get to looking around.

Are there really hot wives in the real world? Certainly. Hot Wife Allie is certainly proof that they do, indeed, exist and seem to be having one heck of a good time. You go, Allie girl!

Are there really cuckolds? I can’t speak to that, but I sure do love the fantasy. Let me spell that out: F A N T A S Y ! In other words, I would not participate in such a relationship in my real life. I just think it screws with the heart, the spiritual part of us, a little too much to make for good relationship dynamics.

But hot wives or cuckolding or even black on white (interacial sex) are not necessarily terms that are synonymous with women preferring their men to be hung like horses. And if that were the case, a lot of men would be out of the running and many fine fucks down the tube.

As an erotic conversationalist (men do talk of such things) and as a female who has good female friendships (women do talk fo such things), my slant on this “big dick” thing, is that it is more a man’s fantasy than a woman’s.  I also speak from experience.

(Oh my! I’m about to get personal here, which is something I rarely do. So pull up a chair and perk up those ears.)

Some of you know that after a major heartbreak when I was in college I went through six months of what I call my “Slut Period.” I won’t bore you with all the details. (If you have me on the phone and ask nicely I might share a few juicy tidbits. Or then again, I might not. Or I might blog about it later. Who knows? You should know by now how I feel about boxes.) But I did have a fling or two with –shall we say– “larger than life” male types. And I found the experience less than satisfactory and quite uncomfortable.

Lesson: Large equipment does not guarantee that the operator knows how to use it.

But in the fantasy world…

Oh, yeah! Let’s make the fuck-stick large and the guy wielding it nasty!

Remember my Masks for Hospice jibber-jabber from 4.5.06? Well this is the one I’m bidding on. Which was created by none other than Tommy Tune. Pretty awesome, huh?

Okay, I’m coming out of the closet: I’ve been bitten by the American Idol bug.

I didn’t mean for it to happen; really I didn’t. Because I’ve never been into spending time in front of of a TV screen just watching. Yes, just watching. I’d rather be watched. I’d rather live my own life out loud than silently watch. This is why I’ve never gotten hooked on serialized television shows or soap operas.

But there I was early one evening, flipping through the television stations, probably looking for a good movie, although quite honestly I don’t recall. And all of a sudden there is this fabulous woman belting out this awesome song with a wickedly-powerful voice.

I stopped. I wanted to know who she was, where I could find more of her. I do that with music. Trust me, I have lotsa music, very eclectic music. How many girls my age (not that I’m gonna tell you my age) do you know who listen to Mahalia Jackson? Huh?

Turns out that this happens to be American Idol that I am tuned to and this girl with the magical vocal chords is Fantasia. And Miss Fantasia rather caught my fancy. And so I was back the next week and then the next couple of weeks as Idol wrapped up the season and Fantasia, indeed, became that year’s American Idol. And then I was back last season. But I was rooting for Constantine Maroulis, and if you’re a fan, you know he didn’t quite make it to the finals.

So if you’ve been wondering where I’ve been these early Tuesday and Wednesday evenings, now you know.

Who am I smitten with this season? Let me think about that and get back to you.

***disclaimer: Above comments regarding Television do not include reruns of Law and Order: Criminal Intent. Because Vincent D’Onofrio (as Detective Goren) is a scene-chewing, big fat hambone of a thespian who has my highest regard. He tickles me pink and purple and orange.