-image-I am taking a Moment

Many of you are accustom to me writing my humors’, sexy spin or what ever it is I feel like talking about.  Well, I would like to take a moment to express my gratitude.

Today is not only St. Patrick’s Day, it happens to be the birthday of a very dear friend. Some one who I refer to as my “Guardian Angel”.   As we go through life, many people enter in and out for one reason or another.  However, there are few that touch our world that goes far beyond anything earthly or material.   

I wish you a wonderful day and many more birthday celebrations.

Happy Birthday to you..

Happy Birthday to you…

Happy Birthday,

Happy Birthday,

Happy Birthday to you…. And many more my friend….

-image-Lucky

I wanted to compliment the Irish this St. Patrick’s Day with an essay about the Emerald City…  Huh?  You say I’m confusing the Land of Oz with the Emerald Isle?  No, I don’t think so; I saw the “Wizard of Oz,” it’s loaded with leprechauns.  You say they’re really Munchkins?  But aren’t they the doughnut balls sold at Duncan Donuts?  Fugeddaboudit!  I confess than an Italian American MILF doesn’t know jack about Erin’s bra.  What?  It’s Erin Go Bragh?  Well, that just proves it; however, I do know something about Lucky the Leprechaun.  You know Lucky.  He’s the smiling leprechaun pictured on boxes of Lucky Charms cereal. 

I feel sorry for the little guy, because he’ll never get lucky with marshmallow diamonds.  Yeah, I know diamonds are a girl’s best friend, but what girl gives up the poontang for a spongy confection?  Don’t leprechauns go to school to learn about pots of gold?  Maybe Lucky was sick that day.  Lucky, if you want to score with the lady leprechauns, pots of gold are tried-and-true.  Gee-whiz, Lucky, haven’t you ever seen a Goldline commercial?

Lucky, didn’t you watch the 2010 Winter Olympics?  All those well-built babes were after the same prize…  Purple horseshoes?  No, you fatheaded fay, they wanted gold!  And unless you want to add blue balls to your list of multi-colored marshmallow bits, you’ll use real pots of gold, not ones made of corn syrup and albumin.   Get my drift?

Lucky is playing with fire.  Imagine the danger Lucky would face from a South “Joisy” girl who broke a manicured fingernail pursuing him over the Irish moors for his pot of gold, only to get a box of “magically delicious” cereal.  Lucky would be safer bilking a banshee than a Jersey gold digger.  She’d stuff pink marshmallow hearts, green clovers, yellow moons and orange stars up Lucky’s “arse” until he started babbling like a prison inmate at Mountjoy.  “The three of ‘em came in the showers, constable, all oiled up like, and they kicked me fuckin’ back door in.”

Lucky, food is fine, but it won’t win any hearts.  How much pussy do you think the Keebler Elves get baking fudge cookies in a hollow tree?  The answer, Lucky, is zip, zero, nada!  Yeah, they’re packing “fudge,” all right, but each other’s. 

Where can you get your own pot of gold?  Gosh, I don’t know, Lucky.  My pot of gold has always been my magically delicious “box.”  You could be a dentist elf like Hermey on the Island of Misfit Toys.  He extracts gold teeth.  Hey, maybe you could pack fudge for the Keebler Elves.  Just pretend your emerald green dick is a baker’s peel and you’re loading magic ovens.  Having a wee willy is no excuse, Lucky; “A little elfin magic goes a long way.”

Here’s an Irish limerick for everyone who wants to get lucky.

Lucky little leprechaun

Who sneaks about my lawn

Stop hiding under clover

And bring that gold on over

And you will be worn-out come the dawn.

-image-Schedule Update

Currently, Back in PHILLY until Tuesday 3/16.

Tuesday 3/16 Leigh Valley area until Thursday 3/17.

While I was up North traveling, I took the time to visit the Chelsea Mansion in Long Island.  There will be a new gallery update of that photo shoot in the members area.

Natasha

www.phillylady.com

-image-Wild Mushrooms

I love to cook and was aroused by a recipe for a wild mushroom tart.  I was immediately sold on the dish because of the word “tart,” and because of my vision of creamy custard dripping over the top of a mushroom phallus.  The image of oodles of pudding-like cream spurting from moist mushrooms was mouthwatering.

I collected all the ingredients: butter, shallots, garlic, cognac, olive oil and fresh herbs.  I only needed wild mushrooms.  I’ve known cooks who gather their own wild mushrooms.  Why not me?  I mustered up the confidence to make like floozy of the forest and went to the Internet for an online primer on distinguishing edible mushrooms from the poisonous varieties.  The wealth of information I found did nothing at all to quiet my fear of needing a liver or kidney transplant should I pop the wrong pileus.  How would the tabloids report the event?  I can only guess: “MILF massacred by malicious mushroom” or “Fiery floozy fucked by fatal fungi.”  Oh my God!  The tabloids wouldn’t dare print “Oyster mushroom clobbers hairy clam.”

I succumbed to the misgivings of menacing morels and cased the custard concoction into the crappy concept chamber pot.  The only wild mushrooms I have a taste for now are the polished parasols found on pulsating peckers.  They’re great for stuffing “tarts” (giggle).

Natasha

www.phillylady.com

-image- MAN KILLED ON GOLF COURSE

 MAN KILLED ON GOLF COURSE. OTHERS SEVERELY INJURED

A foursome of guys is waiting at the men’s tee while a foursome of women is
hitting from the ladies’ tee. The ladies are taking their time.

When the final lady is ready to hit her ball, she hacks it 10 feet.

Then she goes over and whiffs it completely. Then she hacks it another ten
feet, and finally hacks it another five feet

She looks up at the patiently waiting men and says apologetically, “I guess
all those f*#king lessons I took over the winter didn’t help.”

One of the men immediately responds, “Well, there you have it, you should
have taken golf lessons instead!”

He never had a chance to duck .

Natasha

www.phillylady.com

Pfizer Corp. announced today that Viagra will soon be available in liquid form, and will be marketed by Pepsi Cola as a power beverage suitable for use as a mixer. It will now be possible for a man to literally pour himself a stiff one. Obviously we can no longer call this a soft drink, and it gives new meaning to the names of “cocktails”, “highballs” and just a good old-fashioned “stiff drink”. Pepsi will market the new concoction by the name of:  
MOUNT & DO. 
Thought for the day: There is more money being spent on breast implants and Viagra today than on Alzheimer’s research. This means that by 2040, there should be a large elderly population with perky boobs and huge erections and absolutely no recollection of what to do with them.

Natasha

www.phillylady.com

-image-Free Willy

Free Willy…

I’ve got this girlfriend who’s always lecturing me about nature and the environment.  She was on a rant one afternoon about how cruel it is to remove killer whales from the wild.  I blurted “You wouldn’t think so if you were a seal.”  I knew I was in deep shit and tried to laugh it off with a naturist joke; “A nude man at the beach sheltered his dick from the sun with his hat.  A woman snickers “If you were a gentleman you’d lift your hat.”  He raised one eyebrow and replied, “If you weren’t so ugly my hat would lift itself.”  She looked at me stone-faced and said “The dorsal fin of male Orca whales droop in captivity.”  I asked “Are you saying that male killer whales can’t get it up because they’re melancholy?”  She replied “If you’d seen the movie “Free Willy” you’d understand.”  I tried another attempt at humor to defuse the conversation. “I’m a professional escort.  I’ve freed more “willies” than ORCAS (Oceanic Rescue and Cetacean Action Society).”  She wasn’t at all amused.  She said “You should be more serious about the plight of Orcas in captivity.”  Now I was exasperated.  “What makes you sure Orcas aren’t living it up at Sea World?”  She replied “Orcas have their own language.”  I said “Oh, you talk to killer whales?”  She said “They have large brains and can communicate with clicks and whistles.”  Then she said with an impish smile “Orcas have enormous dicks.”  I apologize to all you guys for what I said to my infuriating girlfriend next; “Paleeese!  Every man I known with a big dick and a small brain communicates that he’s horny and happy with clicks and whistles.  What’s different about male Orcas?”  She said “Their normally erect dorsal fins wouldn’t flop over if they were happy.”  I looked at her quizzically and asked “When’s the last time you got laid?”  “Why is that important?” she asked.  “Gawd, an erect appendage that goes flaccid usually means a man is happy and satisfied.  The Orca in the news spawned 13 offspring.  Take it from me, he’s happy!”  She gazed pensively for awhile, then smiled and said “The largest dick on record belonged to an Orca.  It was over 8 ft. long.”  I was stunned.  “That’s more than large, that’s gigantic!”  She giggled “Yeah, I bet female Orcas are happy.”  That was something we could agree on.  We were like two hot and horny zoologists after that.  “So, which has the bigger dick, an elephant or a giraffe?”  Oh, but we didn’t stop there.  After several more glasses of Cabernet Sauvignon we were comparing the dicks of pygmy mice to bumblebee bats and laughing hysterically.  Girl talk is so much fun! 

Natasha

www.phillylady.com

-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