Sabrina in Stockings.

Do you know her? Have you talked with her? If not…why not? She writes (oh, man, does she write):

Smells Like Vanilla

I want. 

I’m pressing down against my office chair right now and bouncing up and down a little, just rocking back on my hips and thighs. It feels like all I am is warm, wet, and hungry and all of that is just melting out of my body through my throbbing pink cunt. Another hour like this and I’ll be in that state where I’m ready to bend over my desk, spread my legs apart, thrust my ass out like a bitch in heat and grind my aching clit against the edge of the desktop. I’ll growl, I’ll whimper, I’ll beg to get fucked. 

I have class in two hours. I have to go sit in a room filled with people, potential warm slippery bodies against mine, all night long. The work is boring and repetitive – exactly the kind of stuff that makes my mind wander to more interesting topics, like which of the objects in the room would be best to impale that pretty little blonde with … 

I can’t think when I’m like this. 

I wonder if any of them read this. I wonder if the guys and girls behind me will be able to smell how wet my panties are. 

They probably will. 

The thought humiliates me and makes me wetter at the same time. 

I’m tugging the crotch of my satin thong up between the lips of my pussy. It slides easily and I just know the slippery evidence will be visible on the black satin hours later. 

I have an old pair of pantyhose. Black. Matte, sheer-to-waist and ripe for ripping. I can’t decide if I want to put them on, feel how smooth the nylon is against my legs, run my short nails over the seam (pressing it right against my clit) and then rip out the crotch and fingerfuck myself through the hole, or if I want to wad up one of the legs and force it inch by inch balled up into my pussy. It would be lumpy, unless I twisted it just right. It would push out my walls at angles I couldn’t predict until the nylon was there, compressing just enough not to hurt me but rough-edged enough to feel very interesting indeed. 

Right now I’m not just wet but slick. The nylon wouldn’t absorb so much as get coated in my juices. Gods, I want to come. I’m riding the edge of my panties that got pushed up against the inner lips of my pussy, just enough to tease me but not give me enough of what I need to send me over. I lean back … the silky smooth satin shifts back and forth across my ass, right there, and it’s driving me crazy. I need more … Two fingers go to my lips, then three, and it’s your cock muffling my moans, my lips wrapped tight around my knuckles… tight around the base of your cock. My tongue flicks out to tease the head of your cock, running around the ridge, teasing that sensitive spot right and the underside, and I suck right there. My panties are starting to leak. I’m shaking, but not enough … not yet. 

My cunt actually hurts, I need to come so badly. I need to make this hard and fast. Hands off the keyboard now – I need something more inside me than just the edge of my panties. Two fingers go to my lips, circling, before pushing in and kicking back and forth, teasing right at the back… harder, then nothing, then more, more, more. 

I don’t think I screamed but I damn well made noise. 

It’s a blur, my panties are askew, my hair is mussed and I’m realizing I actually do need a job where it’s okay to go lie down for a minute and have five mini-orgasms one after the other until I can stop feeling like a hole that needs to be fucked and start feeling like a person again. I’m wondering if there’s someone out there this is enough for, instead of too much. I’m wondering why the hell my fingers always smell and taste like vanilla musk, afterward. I mean really … vanilla?

You can read the original story here.

Then call her.

xo, Angela

Lyrics by John Prine, sung with Iris Dement:

She don’t like her eggs all runny
She thinks crossin’ her legs is funny
She looks down her nose at money
She gets it on like the Easter Bunny
She’s my baby I’m her honey
I’m never gonna let her go.

He ain’t got laid in a month of Sundays
I caught him once and he was sniffin’ my undies
He ain’t too sharp but he gets things done
Drinks his beer like it’s oxygen
He’s my baby
And I’m his honey
Never gonna let him go.

In spite of ourselves
We’ll end up a’sittin’ on a rainbow
Against all odds
Honey, we’re the big door prize
We’re gonna spite our noses
Right off of our faces
There won’t be nothin’ but big old hearts
Dancin’ in our eyes.

She thinks all my jokes are corny
Convict movies make her horny
She likes ketchup on her scrambled eggs
Swears like a sailor when shaves her legs
She takes a lickin’
And keeps on tickin’
I’m never gonna let her go.

He’s got more balls than a big brass monkey
He’s a wacked out weirdo and a love-bug junkie
Sly as a fox and crazy as a loon
Payday comes and he’s howlin’ at the moon
He’s my baby I don’t mean maybe
Never gonna let him go.

In spite of ourselves
We’ll end up a’sittin’ on a rainbow
Against all odds
Honey, we’re the big door prize.
We’re gonna spite our noses
Right off of our faces
There won’t be nothin’ but big old hearts
Dancin’ in our eyes.

..and have access to the “recommendation” file, from which I shared with you yesterday. And because, sooner or later, I will once again lose track of it, here is another letter written by a beloved fan. You will recall from the previous post that, because of these letters, my website, Literate Smut, was a runner-up for Erotic Website of the Year in 2003.

Ok…here’s the deal. I am a man who was weaned on porn, suckled at its teat for many moons. Erotica befriended me during adolescence, added spice to relationships, and has kept me company while transitioning from the streets of Los Angeles to the mountains of North Carolina.

As I left L.A., a dear friend took me to dinner and said, “You are an intelligent man who has tasted the kink of the city; someone who is as at-home on porn sets as in a library or classroom. How will you survive when you are surrounded by Baptist hillbillies who scorn those who wish to expand their mind and soul?”

At the time, I felt that my friend was acting elitist. How dare he write-off the earthy wisdom of Appalachian folk so easily. How dare he believe that one’s cognition cannot be challenged and grow just because there are no universities within a 2-hour radius. Well….um….he was sort of right.

I’ll be damned if the demon Podunk had not enveloped my soul and stunted my thought processes. I became possessed by this demon, and subsequently, became intellectually stagnant. I needed a savior. Better yet, I needed an EXORCIST!!!

Enter: ANGELA!!! Web mistress of LiterateSmut.net!!! Ohhhhhhhhhh me ooooooooooohhhh my!!! Just what I needed!

After a long day at the office (I’m a child and family therapist) helping people break their ruts and routines, I simply have to visit my favorite new site (literatesmut.net) to keep myself from falling into routines and ruts of my own!!! Oscar Wilde and Mae West quotes accentuate the sultry visuals. Spirituality waltzes with the profane. Book reviews and strap-ons. It’s all here!

This sheer originality of this site prompted me to call Angela and see if she is for real. Is she as literate and kinky as she claims? YES!!!!!!! And therefore, I have spoken with her many times since! The site itself is free, yet there are invitations for live phone encounters. But this is no mere phone sex site! I found right away that Angela can discuss Shakespeare as naturally as describing the perfect blowjob! And when she sang me songs from Jesus Christ Superstar…well…I simply fell in love! AND SO WILL YOU!!!!!!!!!

Angela, thank you for being the hottest exorcist on the planet!!!

Much love, K.

Now, mind you, although I’ve not heard from K in quite a while (unlike The Professor, yesterday’s author, who is alive and well and naughtier than hell), he is a very special guy. Learning that I collect rosaries and smiley faces, he commissioned a beadworker to create a smiley face rosary especially for me. And I cherish it. And I miss him immensely.

And don’t forget to visit the Erotic Awards, a very cool charity organization benefitting The Outsiders.

A few years back my flagship website, Literate Smut, was a finalist for Erotic Website of the Year. I never did know who nominated me, but a few very nice gents wrote some nice “letters of recommendation” after the fact. I ran across that particular file, and thought I’d share one with you…

My Dearest Mistress Angela:

When I discovered that you had been nominated for an EROTIC award I was delighted that the conveners of this event had the exquisite taste to recognize how absolutely brilliant your website is. Literatesmut.net is quite descriptive of itself, and, thus of you. You have created a Hope diamond within the plethora of costume jewelry of erotic websites that clutter the internet. It and your are tasteful, tantalizing, honest,sensitive, provocative and, of course, literate!

The components of your site offer something for everyone who is intelligently kinky. Attention to detail both at the site and on the phone is unparalleled. The colors you have selected and the fade in/out feature you use create an aura reminiscent of the naughty Victorian bedroom. Fantasy is joyously alive and well at literatesmut.net and is in your loving hands. Yes, you can be the dominatrix extraordinaire, but you weave these fantasies within the framework of safety and support.

Your love of literature is amply represented at your site as is your creativity. The inclusion of your poems within the site lends a very appealing vulnerability to what you offer. You have clearly invested, and to an appropriate extent, exposed yourself within your site. That takes a large dollop of courage in today’s internet erotic marketplace.

Angela St. Lawrence is the Queen of Kink, the Empress of her Erotic Empire and the Delicious Dominatrix of the internet. When visiting her site, my recommendation to kinky gentleman is to hold on to your zipper, you are entering a wondrous world that will leave you breathless.

Sincerely yours,

The Professor

***The Erotic Awards is a yearly fund-raising event hosted by the Leydig Trust to raise money for The Outsiders, a support and outsource program for the physically handicapped regarding personal and sexual relationships. Be sure to check them out.

The fourth is officially over. None too soon for me. Because I am not a big fan of picnics or volleyball or ants or extreme heat. I prefer dinner in front of the TV with a good friend, scrabble or boggle or trivial pursuit, and swimming or air conditioning.

But I did do the picnic thing today. A small affair just with my beloved mother. We watched a movie, ate (store bought) picnic-type deli foods and went for a walk. It was lovely and quiet. I was home before dark.

But later, making a quick run to the Seven Eleven, I actually saw two fireworks. So my holiday is complete.

And I hope you had a good one!

***

Reading my news updates as I had my morning java I ran across the funniest little bit of news. Just lQQk at what doctors removed from a fellow’s anus:

That white thing at the center of the xray, my friends, is a light bulb. If my suspicions are correct, this would be a perfect addition to Supervert’s ever-growing encyclopedia of the weirdly obscene. But the patient, who is a Pakistanian prison inmate, swears he doesn’t know how it got there. Yeah, sure.

***

Oh, and I have a joke for you (well, actually two):

Question: What do you get when you turn a blonde upside down?
Answer: A brunette

Now, I happen to be a brunette but love blonde jokes. So a friend sent me this one…which is just fabulous and certainly put me in my place:

Question: Why are blond jokes always so short?
Answer: So brunettes can understand them.

***

And speaking of blondes, if you’re a fan of Pink‘s and/or The Indigo Girls…and not so much a fan of our current administration…you simply MUST watch this video: Dear Mister President. You can order the CD, I’m not Dead, at Amazon.