-image-The perfect afternoon

She meets me at the door.  As it swings open, I become aware of her exotic fragrance permeating the air.

I turn to see her, as she emerges from behind the door, naked and erotic in her loveliness.  Her beautiful face shines in welcome: her smiling eyes reflect awareness f the romantic interlude soon to come.  I reach out to caress her face, then her shoulder and soft full breasts.  These are a wonder… heavy and full, they nevertheless stand out in an assertive posture, asking to be weighed and felt and appreciated.  Their fullness sends an electric charge through my body as I hold her against me feeling her breast swell against me.

At the same time, my hands go around her back, feeling the smooth skin of her lower back and then traveling lower to stroke the swell of her ass cheeks.  My fingers run along the cleft between her cheeks, enjoying the warmth that they find. Traveling lower and lower, daringly approaching her bottom opening.  She urges me on with warm pleasurable sounds, and I lightly touch her rectal opening, ever so gently feeling the moist swollen aperture.  Then, I continue my exploration, moving my fingers around towards the front of her voluptuous body.

I encounter the luxurious vaginal lips, swollen in passion, eager to be stroked, anxious to be filled with the pulsing blood of our mutual eroticism.  My fingers plunge into her velvety vaginal tissues, delighting in the multitude of textures to be found inside her pussy.  Her moisture covers my hand as I gently stroke her clit, then insert my fingers behind it.  Searching and finding her G spot.  Her moans assure me that my aim is accurate.  She whispers,”Feel my pussy, make me wetter,  I want to feel you deeply in me”.  I eagerly oblige, just as she moves her hand to my abdomen and then lowers it to the front of my pants, where my penis swells in response to her beauty.

She opens my zipper, reaches in and softly caresses my erect organ.  She bends back over her couch, affording me access to her vagina as well as a lovely view of her full breast heaving in passion.  Her hand reaches for the ever-handy lotion bottle and she squeezes a generous portion onto my rampant penis, then, commences to deliver delicious strokes up and down my slick prick.  The sensations exceed words.  I’ am transported with sexual desire and need.  Every fiber in my body yearns to plunge into her, to possess her and be possessed by her

We move into the bedroom, where she lies moaning and writhing on the bed while I pull off my clothes and shoes.  Now that I am finally naked, we can appreciate the effect that the sexually charged atmosphere has had on both of us  Her cheeks flushed, she lies with her legs bent and separated, gently feeling her throbbing clitoral tissues and urging me to enter her.  Ecstatically, I move towards her, my penis long and hard.  As I crouch over her, she takes hold of my erect organ and places it against her pubis, which she has anointed with creamy lotion.  The sensations resulting from rubbing dreamily against her, feeling my balls closely engaged with her labial lips are more that I can bear..

I exclaim, “I must fuck you now!” She, urging me on, places my pens against her pussy and eases me in until I am captured within her body.  I feel her vaginal tissues surrounding my probing prick, embracing me in their moist fullness, facilitating the erotic motions of our straining bodies.  We move in rhythm, our bodies straining in ecstasy. She breathes into my ear. “Let it go, let me feel your juices fill me up, don’t hold back give me your orgasm now!!” I feel the inevitability of my orgasm building and building and finally spilling over the brink of my consciousness.  My organ swells, my seed spurts out in great white gobs,  her vagina clutches at my throbbing penis,  I feel her fingers urge my penis on and on and on until I am emptied, fatigued, spent and thoroughly satiated.  Shi is magical, bewitching lust partner, ever fresh, ever delightful,.  I await our next encounter with anticipation, even as I lie upon her, feeling myself surrounded by the warmth of her vagina.

(more…)

-image-27 things to do in an elevator

1) When there’s only one other person in the elevator, tap them on the shoulder and then pretend it wasn’t you

2) Push the buttons and pretend they give you a shock. Smile, and go back for more.

3) Ask if you can push the button for other people, but push the wrong ones.

4) Call the Psychic Hotline from your cell phone and ask if they know what floor your on.

5) Hold the doors open and say your waiting for a friend. After a while, let the doors close, and say, “Hi Greg. How’s your day been?”

6) Drop a pen and wait until someone goes to pick it up, then scream, “That’s mine!”

7) Bring a camera and take pictures of everyone in the elevator.

Move your desk into the elevator and whenever anyone gets on, ask if they have an appointment.

9) Lay down the twister mat and ask people if they would like to play.

10) Leave a box in the corner, and when someone gets on, ask them if they can hear ticking.

11) Pretend you are a flight attendant and review emergency procedures and exits with the passengers.

12) Ask, “Did you feel that?”

13) Stand really close to someone, sniffing them occasionally.

14) When the doors close, announce to the others, “It’s okay, don’t panic, they open again!”

15) Swat at flies that don’t exist.

16) Tell people that you can see their aura.

17) Call out, “Group Hug!” and then enforce it.

18) Grimace painfully while smacking your forehead and muttering, “Shut up, all of you, just shut up!”

19) Crack open your briefcase or purse, and while peering inside, ask, “Got enough air in there?”

20) Stand silently and motionless in the corner, facing the wall, without getting off.

21) Stare at another passenger for a while, then announce in horror, “Your one of THEM!” and back away slowly.

22) Wear a puppet on your hand and use it to talk to the other passengers.

23) Listen to the elevator walls with your stethoscope.

24) Make explosion noises when anyone presses a button.

25) Stare, grinning at another passenger for a while, then announce, “I have new socks on”.

26) Draw a little square on the floor with chalk and announce to the other passengers, “This is MY personal space!”

27) Bring a plastic blow up doll and pretend it is your wife/girlfriend and say “Don’t yell at me woman!” and throw her into the wall.

Natasha

www.phillylady.com

-image-Oh my… Where does my mind go….

I’m grateful for all the compliments my tongue-in-cheek essays have received, but for those of you who think my writings should be less farcical and more titillating, let me remind you that you’re not dealing with J.K. Rowling.  My mastery over what dangles doesn’t include participles (giggle); however, I truly hate to disappoint you guys.  Only for that reason did I give it the old college try.  So take out that “dangling participle” of yours and read on.

I toweled off after my shower and stood facing the bathroom mirror to survey my naked body.  The atmosphere in the room was vaporous and moist droplets veined the glass.  I picked up a washcloth and leaned over the vanity to wipe away the condensation, but my large bosoms caused me to lose balance.  I braced myself on the sink top with two hands and unintentionally peered into the clouded mirror with my nose merely inches from the glass.  I was mesmerized by a faceless silhouette within the misty mirror. Its curvaceous contours proclaimed the form was female.  She was naked and driblets of water appeared to trickle between her breasts and beckoning thighs.  I drifted into daydreaming about the ethereal shadow.  Was she a naked nymph bathing beneath a waterfall or just another slut covered in cum?  Both envisages excited me and I fantasized about embracing her while I glided two hands over my own moist skin.  I spread my pussy open with two fingers, as if to invite her tongue inside, and closed my eyes.  I was in an enchanted forest, supine on a velvety bed of verdant moss, and writhing with desire.  I breathlessly browsed her breasts and butt as she slinked on all fours toward my waiting pussy.  All her muscles were tense and her untamed eyes focused on my cunt like a jaguar’s on its prey.  Her tresses touched my vulva like the whiskers of the jungle beast I imagined; I was defenseless, then I heard a low guttural sound exude from her throat as her warm, moist breath parted my labia like the waters of the Red Sea.

Oh shit!  Look at the time.  I have to run. Oh, come on…you really didn’t think I could write? 

Natasha

www.phillylady.com

-image-Led Pasties

I have a dynamic “chamber of commerce” (giggle) that provides unparalleled services to residents and tourists in Pennsylvania and Connecticut; howbeit, there’s always room for growth (giggle) in my business.

It’s in my self-interest to energize the economy in general, but especially in Pennsylvania and Connecticut, where lighthouses attract sightseers and their money to communities on the coasts.  It follows that the economies of both states would benefit from more beacons.

A beacon is an intentionally conspicuous device designed to attract attention to a specific location.  Lighthouse beacons help guide navigators to their destinations, but so do signal fires, radar reflectors and radio beacons.
As none of the ordinary signaling devices are as beckoning as a light-o’-love, I searched for a light that’s better suited to the task.  To my gleeful surprise, I found an LED pastie.  Now goatish guys and gals across the U.S.A. can hone in on nipples in the dark with the pinpoint precision of a smart bomb.  You’ll never confuse her nose for a nipple again.
Why not just shoot fire from my tits like Lady GaGa?  Look, I don’t care if you earned a fire safety merit badge, lighted matches and my mammary glands don’t mix.  I know you were a straight-arrow Boy Scout—your “arrow” actually bends a little bit to the left—but stick to toasting S’mores!  Oh, don’t look so downhearted.  You could earn another merit badge by making your own LED pasties.  I’ll teach you how.
You’ll need a utility knife, craft foam (preferably black), fashionable fabric, matching thread, sewing needle(s), 5mm LEDs, two 2025 lithium batteries and an adhesive like Aleen’s Tacky Glue.  Oh, yeah, you’ll also need boobs.
The first step is to measure the areola around the nipple to determine the appropriate size circle for your pasties.  Hmmm…I suppose placing your open mouth over the nipple like a sucker fish might work; however, I recommend using a jar lid or paper plate to find the right size pattern for your foam circles.

Use your pattern to make four foam circles.  Now make Pac Man-like cutouts in the four circles.  The depth of the cone that forms the pastie will be determined by how large you make the cutout.  Two of the circles should have slightly larger cutouts.  They’ll be used for the top of the pasties.
Next glue a square of fabric over the larger pasties (tops).  Then position the batteries and LED inside.  Sew the bottom half to the top half when you’re happy with their placement.  Now you’re done.
Use your imagination and you’ll find lots of uses for your LED pasties.  You could use them for a nightlight or to read a road map.  How about using them like airport runway lights for your darling “dirigible?”  Dock your rigid “zeppelin” between them for a titty fuck… Oh my God!  Your hard-on would look like the friggin’ Washington Monument all lit up at night.  No, really, it’s that big. (lol)

Natasha

www.phillylady.com

-image-Who Dat!!!

“Who dat?  Who dat?  Who dat say dey gonna beat dem Saints?”  No, I’m not practicing for a minstrel show.  I’ve joined the “Who Dat Nation” because I’m a fervent football fan and frolicsome female who fancies a fun time.  And the boisterous bacchanalia in the Big Easy will be uniquely breathtaking because the New Orleans Saints won the Super Bowl.

The Saints victory over the Colts will make the 2010 Mardi Gras more festive than usual.  Only an explosion at the bead factory in Fuzhou, China could send more strings of plastic beads soaring skyward than the New Orleans Saints.  There’ll be more exposed “pigskin” flaunted by frolicking floozies on Saint Charles Avenue than pork bellies on the Chicago Mercantile Exchange.

The official monarch of the 2010 Mardi Gras will be none other than Drew Brees.  The royal stud muffin will kick off his reign as king when the Bacchus parade rolls down St. Charles Avenue on February 14.  He’s so dreamy (sigh).  How I wish he’d throw a pass at this wide-hipped receiver.  “Drew, throw me that foreskin…ahem…pigskin; I’m wide open.” (lol)

I dream about Drew’s fingers on my “footballs.”  Can’t find the stitches?  That’s because my plastic surgeon did a really good job.  Oh, come on now; don’t tell me you missed an obvious metaphor like footballs.  How will you keep up?  The game of football is chock-full of sexual metaphors like scoring and turnover.  And for those occasions when coitus doesn’t go quite as planned, there’s fumble, timeout and the two-minute warning to signal the end of play.  My ex-husband never played a game that went more than two minutes.  I was always relying on substitutions.

What’s that?  You want to tackle me?  Well, that’s not really a football metaphor.  Okay, but there are rules to follow.  My “backfield” is always in motion, and there’s no penalty for holding, but a play in my “end zone” is an illegal procedure that’ll cost you the game.  My “tight end” will block that play every time for an “incomplete pass.”  Oh, yeah, there could be more than eleven players in a “huddle.”  And overtime periods are more than 15 minutes, because I’m not a clock-watcher.

Now it’s time to stop playing the field and call me; I want to be your “ball carrier.”  But I should warn you, I may get a penalty for illegal use of my hands. (lol)

Natasha

www.phillylady.com

-image-Cupid’s Arrow

Valentine’s Day is almost here, and Cupid is sneakin’ round the corner like the miscreant, Mack the Knife, but he’s armed with more than just a jackknife, and he’s far more dangerous.  The diapered devil’s arrows are dipped in powerful toxins excreted on the skin of Columbian poison arrow frogs.  The poison blocks neuromuscular transmissions, resulting in weakness of extremities, muscle cramps, slurred speech, challenged gait and difficulty swallowing.  The paralyzing effects of the neurotoxin makes one appear severely intoxicated.  Some call it “love.”  It’s really no different, however, than the euphoria one gets from imbibing in too many martinis.  Here’s what I think many Valentine’s Day cards should read: “What inspired this amorous rhyme?  Two parts vodka, one part lime…”  Oh, you think a Valentine should be more romantic?  I gotcha!  How’s this rhyme: “I thought that I could love no other.  Until, that is, I met your brother.”  What?  I’m just keeping it real! 

I chose not to write an essay on how Cupid became the iconic symbol of Valentine’s Day because I’m sick of the little shit!  I have the same low opinion of the malicious moppet as the author who wrote “I don’t understand why Cupid was chosen to represent Valentine’s Day.  When I think about romance, the last thing on my mind is a short, chubby toddler coming at me with a weapon.” 

While there are no known antitoxins for Cupid’s arrows, increased exposures to lovesickness stimulate an immune response in some humans.  There’s presently no scientific definition for the immune response, but the phrase “once bitten, twice shy” seems right. 

I can be lovey-dovey, and do enjoy giving gifts to guys on Valentine’s Day.  No, I don’t give candy or flowers, but you could receive another gift that’s more functional. 

To give roses today would be corny;

They cost, they die and they’re thorny.

So please don’t be miffed,

A red condom’s your gift,

‘tis practical too ‘cause I’m horny! 

That reminds me, I don’t have a date on Valentine’s Day.  How strange; my phone just melted?  Go figure… (lol)

Natasha

www.philylady.com
 

“Bottle of Wine”

(Women will LOVE this one!)

A woman, and a man, are involved in a car accident on a snowy, cold Monday morning; it’s a bad one.. Both of their cars are totally demolished, but amazingly neither of them is hurt. God works in mysterious ways.

After they crawl out of their cars, the man is yelling about women drivers.

The woman says, ‘So, you’re a man. That’s interesting. I’m a woman. Wow, just look at our cars! There’s nothing left, but we’re unhurt. This must be a sign from God that we should be friends and live in peace for the rest of our days.’

Flattered, the man replies, ‘Oh yes, I agree completely, this must be a sign from God! But you’re still at fault…women shouldn’t be allowed to drive.’

The woman continues, ‘And look at this, here’s another miracle. My car is completely demolished but this bottle of wine didn’t break. Surely God wants us to drink this wine and celebrate our good fortune.’ She hands the bottle to the man.

The man nods his head in agreement, opens it and drinks half the bottle and then hands it back to the woman.

The woman takes the bottle, puts the cap back on and hands it back to the man.

The man asks, ‘Aren’t you having any?’

The woman replies, ‘No. I think I’ll just wait for the police…’

Natasha

www.phillyady.com

-image-Pulled Pork

I went to a taproom for lunch with my girlfriends…  Huh?  Sure, I could have used tavern or pub, but once I had a threesome there after hours.  I always call it the “taproom” now.

I’ve had sex on more bar tops than you can shake a dick at.  Sometimes I run into this one guy who thought he was splitting wood.  His deep thrusting trapped air in the back of my vagina.  The escaping air made my twat flap like a whoopee cushion.  Now the smarty-pants calls the pub “Pig n’ Whistle.” 

Anyway, I was in this taproom with the girls when I heard this cute guy at the next table order pulled pork.  I heard opportunity knocking, got up, and sauntered salaciously to his table.  I announced in an assertive tone “Sir, I am here to deliver your order.”  I snuggled up close to him in the booth before he could respond, deftly slid my hand under the table, unzipped his pants and began caressing his dick.  I said “You did order the pulled pork?”  He smiled mischievously, “I’d like sticky buns for dessert.”  I laughed.  Later that night I delivered “dessert” to his room. 

This is the best; about two weeks later I stopped with my girlfriends at a Caribbean style restaurant.  We all noticed a very distinguished looking man placing an order, “I’ll have the jerk chicken.”  We just about wet our pants laughing.

Natasha

www.phillylady.com

Valentine’s Day is coming and you’re proceeding to do the same (cum) by dutifully participating in the conventional courting ceremony of conferring chocolate candies, clichéd cards and crimson roses.  Why not try something new? 

You’ve heard the slogan “Say it with flowers.”  Well, the Japanese practice an ancient fertility ritual called Hounen Matsuri that involves parading a 12 foot penis through the streets.  Simply stated, the Japanese say it (love) with dick.  It’s like receiving an Asian Hallmark card; “When you care enough to send the very best.” 

You don’t think a dinosaurian dick is romantic?  I couldn’t disagree more.  The giant Asian phallus brings two love songs immediately to mind: “That’s What Love Is All About” and “Don’t Tease Me Now.” 

Come on!  It’s your opportunity to have a really big dick.  It’s what all guys want, right?  So get busy on your paper mache phallus.  Fill it with cannoli cream for a sweet surprise. 

The four-leaf clover is more than just a lucky charm in some parts of Ireland.  I’ve read that an Irish wench can make the man of her dreams hers by eating a four-leaf clover at the same time she thinks of him.  I have my doubts…  Just give him Guinness until you look like Irish-American actress Olivia Wilde.  That’ll work. 

The water in a small pool in Gambia, West Africa, called the “Kachikally Crocodile Pool,” is said to be a sort of aphrodisiac that can boost fertility.  The pool, however, bristles with Nile crocodiles.  Crocodiles!?  You’re shittin’ me, right?   That’s what increases fertility in the pool.  The sperm are swimming their asses off like spooked tadpoles trying to escape the jaws of the crocodiles!   

Look, just throw one of those inflatable crocodile pool floats in a bubble bath with your girl, slip your dick in her mouth and recite “How Doth the Little Crocodile” by Lewis Carroll.  She’ll think you’re cute and fuck you silly, or dial 911.  Hey, but it’s original. 

How doth the little crocodile 
Improve his shining tail, 
And pour the waters of the Nile 
On every golden scale!

How cheerfully he seems to grin, 
How neatly spread his claws, 
And welcome little fishes in 
With gently smiling jaws! 
Natasha

www.phillylady.com

What is Celibacy?
 
  Celibacy can be a choice in life, or a condition imposed by
 circumstances. While attending a Marriage Weekend, Walter and his wife,
 Ann, listened to
 the instructor declare, ‘It is essential that husbands
 and wives know the
 things that are important to each other..”
 
He then addressed the men,
 ’Can you name and describe your wife’s favorite
 flower?’
 
Walter leaned over, touched Ann’s arm gently, and
 whispered,
 
‘Gold Medal-All-Purpose, isn’t it?’
 
And thus began Walter’s life of celibacy………

Natasha

www.phillylady.com