Prettyintelligentprincess

Warming and throbbing
Glowing and deep colour...

My skin,
My sin,
My smooth skin...

It waits for gentle hands.

© Prettyintelligentprincess

Why do I remember words in my head?
Why are they burnt into my brain?
Why can I see them and never ever rub them out?

Why is it I cannot delete a certain telephone number?
Why is it I can see those text messages...even after years...?
Why can I see the long slim late night secret conversations on the MSN screen?

Why is it I remember the very part of the pavement I was standing on when he said that?
Why is it I remember the music playing when we talked about that?
Why is it I remember his answer to that question?

Why do I remember the four people on the table next to ours?
Why do I remember the marks on skin?
Why do I hear their voices,
Feel their hands,
See their words,
For always?

© Prettyintelligentprincess

A semi-detached in a west-end part of town...

A blue pram to the clinic

The long path down the garden....

And then the patio of the new detached bungalow...in a village.

She still has the scar on her forehead.

Small village, big house, no love.

A teacher who is catholic and qualified can teach your child.
A teacher who is Jewish and qualified can teach your child.
A teacher who is Christian can teach your child.
A teacher who is Muslim and qualified can teach your child.

Furthermore ...a BLACK catholic
a Black JEW
A Black Muslim
A black Christian...

if qualified..you ignorant and unintelligent person...
can teach...

Believe me...I am far from ignorant.
I am far more intelligent than the vast majority of people.

BNP members..teaching.or not...did I actually say that....
no
..well...let me tell you this...

To have a belief is one thing.
To undermine the profession you love and adore is another...

Belief, in a personal nature falls to the wayside when you embrace the moderate and balanced talent of teaching..yet I teach my subject with a passion...

Clearly, those, i.e. you... who cannot teach intelligently and who can even ask the very mundane and imbecile questions you do...

do not, will not, ever will be.. as good as I am..in my job...by outlook....

Cannot believe you can even ask if a Muslim can teach Christian...how out of touch are you!!!!
How unintelligent.
How ignorant.

Come on.
Take me on.

I feel so sad.
To live in the same land as this....

read the comment from'Mike'

I have absolutely given the best back...my heart and thoughts and beliefs...
But would like your help....

http://prettyintelligentprincess.blog.co.uk/2009/05/30/why-i-get-pissed-off-6202783/

I love my job.
I love the fact that I can educate and inform...which is tricky to do when discussing a topic you strongly agree with or strongly disagree with...and it's a skill that thousands and thousands of teachers have and they create a balanced and harmonious environment.

I fully endorse the N.U.T.s statement:

'The BNP's racist and fascist views are completely at odds with the aims of an education service that strives for the liberation of every learner's potential, irrespective of age, class, gender, sexual orientation, disability, ethnic origin or religion.'

http://www.hopenothate.org.uk/the-real-bnp/the-politics-of-the-BNP.php#3

And when ignorant unintelligent people vote for the BNP they piss me off as they are undermining the hard work done in schools with children across the whole of the United Kingdom.

This is old news...for me that is.
The day before I travelled to see Jones, I opened an envelope addressed to me; the leaflet 'What your Abnormal Result Means' fell out first...so I actually did not need to read the letter.

Needless to say, I go back in six months...

My age.
My recent breast 'scare' and operation (tiny and really not worth commenting about compared with what some women endure...).

'Everything alright now, ' Jones murmured before kissing my breasts again...

'Yes,' I whispered...

Pushing the envelope and letter into the darkest depths of my mind...
I feel fine.
I feel well.
Really I do.

Listening to his silence is hard.
Touching and remembering is plaguing my head.
Always; always I remember and it is my curse, jarred.
I try to forget and now Kasztner is there, documented...
making me see red.

I do this.
I try not to and usually I succeed.
Usually it's an ice maiden that feels the need
shares her greed,
never takes heed...
But sometimes, sometimes...
I do this,

I envelope the mind of the man,
I capture his voice,
I carry his words
Inside my swirling head
consuming my loud and colourful pictures
that remember not only the sanctuary of our bed,
but all that was said...

It is there.
Weeping and dancing and shouting.
It is there.
Intricately inside my head.

© Prettyintelligentprincess

Personally, I think this is great news however, taking a closer look, some officials in Berwick tried to go through the courts last year to prevent this from happening:

http://www.bbc.co.uk/springwatch/meettheanimals/beaver.shtml

So, what do you think?

They need their's renewing...Budding Vet and Sportacus...passports that is. I have filled in the forms...(having a degree definitely helps)...currently the neighbour is declaring she knows me by filling in the realms required.(I gave her a good twelve or so hours).

Today the challenge is getting a passport photo of the live-wire five year old and the nine but going on nineteen year old in which -

1. They do NOT smile.... (after screaming at them to smile every time for a family photo for many years now)

2. They do not scowl.(Issue with nine year old)

3. They do not put their tongue out. (Issue with five year old)

4. They do not play a spinning whizzy game with the seat (Issue with both)

5. They do not talk/yell/shout/moan/scream when in the booth (Issue with both)

Currently, I am contemplating the venue.

1. Tesco? Will the store detective remember Sportacus...probably.

2. The Post Office? Will I be seen trying to keep my head...certainly.

3. The train station? Too many weirdos.

Tesco it must be...I feel sick.

He closed the door...as I walked through the suite, trying to absorb the moment...

Turning towards him again...he took me in his arms and for the first time we stood in silence and peace and comfort.

We kissed, slowly and walked towards the bed...

Where we sat.
Where we talked.
Where we recounted.
Where we remembered.

Where we laid back and still talked and still smiled and still flirted with the idea of dinner and the idea of intimacy...before turning onto our tummies and talking some more!

I needed to shower and change...

Which I did.
He gave me privacy.
He allowed me trust.

Later, he sat, silently and still in a chair and watched, invisibly, as I dried my hair...
'Come here,' he said...

I walked over to him...and we kissed....and kissed...and touched and breathed in each other....he pushed me to the floor, firmly, gently...where we kissed some more...his arms around me.

I felt him; all of him. His body and his arousal and his need...and yet he took me to the bed, laid me down and softly moved my legs apart.

He kissed me...deeply... moving aside my black lace panties...kissing the sexual intimate and female folds of my skin...harder and more urgent, I felt him push his fingers inside me...as he still consumed my clit in his mouth...and I could hold back no more.

I shouted and I writhed and I wanted ...I wanted him...I wanted to feel this man who had sliced so closely to my soul...

Warmth and wetness seeped onto the inside of my thighs.
He felt that.
I remember.
He watched and looked and stroked and waited...

He waited for his pleasure...wishing to appease my impatience.
Which he did.

Later....I enjoyed him...again...
I enjoyed his pleasure too...but that is for later...

'Wish you were here,' he said.

'I wish so very much too,' she said.

'In my red wine state, I would not make much sense,' he said.

Can I manage a trip to the cinema with a live-wire five year old son and an incredibly grumpy, I am only nine but going on nineteen daughter?

I have chosen the film: Night In The Museum 2 (shrieks of delight from the former, sigh of resignation from the latter).

I have issued the statement about NOT buying sweets that cost about 20 quid a bag at the cinema. (Confused look from both of them)

So, I think they are ready....

I'm not!

Mansion Man glimmered on my phone....'You want to join me with another couple?'

I was driving at the time with two very loud children in the car...

'Pardon?'

Not had contact with him for months and months...(High risk).

Later, newly promoted Blue...sent me a message...'can I interest you in another woman...and me...'(High risk).

Have I missed something here?
Not contacted these people for such a while...and indeed, whilst with Jones, it was such a pleasure not to have to 'guard' my phone as I had absolutely nothing to hide.

High risk? Maybe. But I left everything for him to rifle through, yet I knew he would not be such a callous gentleman.

Then tonight, beautiful and intelligent Ms Sleek drops me a line...she would love to feel my curves...still...

I only felt something ...something when she asked.

I am musing upon the choosing when actually there is only one choice.

Yet...Jones has consumed my head and it's something I love.
To savour and to enjoy. He is in a compartment inside my head. Protected.

A woman's loins and breasts may be my next undoing...
(No risk..at all).

Am I the only one to see the irony here?

How dark for such a land promising The American Dream.

http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2009/may/26/california-supreme-court-gay-marriage

Beautiful and heart warming.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RwDf2DCX_1A

I wanted to share it with you.

It is lovely and I hope some of you out there like it.

Sergio Leoni, once again.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pmSjbnbR_pQ

He is someone my students know; in fact, his name trips off their tongues!!..Closely followed by that of 'Clint,' and, 'Bet you fancy him Miss...'

Mmm...
Well...

'Let's get on with our work shall we....'

This is another Sergio scene I use with them and my word, how my 'naughty boys' love their English lessons.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=awskKWzjlhk

This is truly one of the best film sequences ever.
The music is wonderful and huge and haunting.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jQ4bNTU965E

He is a director of wonder and a director of skill and beauty.

He is art.

This is something I love, the beginning of a wonderful film...
'Once Upon A Time In The West'...and haunting music,haunting silences, haunting sound effects and wonderful camera shots embody this director...as a wonder.
Enjoy.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bW-jSa9_k3M

Heat of the sun and blue glare from the sky bathed my skin...my hair shone and I felt the smoothness and the shine.
I watched my children amd wondered if they would ever discover the secret of me..

I ignored my book...I still cannot concentrate...

I thought of him and then tried not to.

I remember him so vividly and can still feel the texture of his hands and hear the sound of his voice and see his eyes locked onto mine as he claimed me, had me, filled me.

I looked at my lively lingerie pegged out on the line in the bright sun and warm breeze...his hands the last to feel the texture...before entering mine.

Times are not easy and his shoulders are heavy..and I have vowed not to be a burden...

It's life as per normal; life as per the mundane; life as per the usual expectations of mundane marriage and clipped wings.

We will meet again I suspect...however, my patience will be tested and pushed to the limits...

I want to be the girl that shows him the hummingbirds on the walls...amidst the finery of leaves...again.

I want to be the girl that shows him.

I want to be the girl.

I want to be.

I want.

I need to find peaceful sleep.
That warm and secure feeling of tangible comfort.

It is a feeling of disquiet I encounter whilst lying in the marital bed.

(Lying. Yes, indeed, deceit is the dark cloud of rain above my pillow).

Looking for the heaviness of softness around my skin and a heaviness
upon my eyelids...

'Goodnight sweet ladies, goodnight, goodnight...' (The Wasteland, T.S Elliot...echoes of Hamlet, Shakespeare...as the madness falls into the Prince of Denmark's soul).

Lily....has this song I love and I feel it embraces rather a lot of the present climate...however, I love the whole album very much.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=trqnyBl0efM

Then...check this out!!!!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f-NAnS-oyiE

I find this so empowering as I drive the car!!!

This will be my leaving song...when I finally walk away from The Building.....

It's the rumble of the train beneath the ground.

It's the brightness of sunlight.

It's the heaviness of the curtains.

It's the height of the mirror!

It's the silence of his footsteps.

It's the study of his gaze.

It's the sound of his voice.

It's the art of translation.

It's the peace of sleep.

It's the warmth of pleasure.

It's the smell of awakening bodies.

It's the feeling of him touching my skin.

It's the sound of his patience.

His patience and me.

© Prettyintelligentprincess

'A tiny speck,' she said.

'I have much on my shoulders,' he said.

'You are not a tiny speck,' he said.

'Thinking of you,'he said.

Arriving...an hour earlier than originally anticipated....I sauntered along the long and crowded platform...feeling my hands shaking and my breath quicken.
This was ridiculous...wasn't it?
No one...no one at all knew exactly where I was as I did not even know where I would be staying!
I had refrained from pestering as I knew it would just spoil the moment...and actually, to be honest, I was past caring as I just knew things felt good and I could relax.

However, let us return to the platform at Euston station...

In the distance, I saw him. Dressed smartly just looking ahead...watching the people walking up into the throng. As I walked past him I looked...straight into his eyes and smiled...he was my height and very very slim...(actually...a little too slim for me...and actually, a little too 'untall'...)

He did not move, just smiled back and remained where he was.
So I walked on and waited....

'Have I just walked past you,' I texted.
'You may have,' was the reply...

Oh...God..that was him...I turned and walked back...walking straight up to him...
I then said, 'Hello....it's me...'

He turned....

Smiled.

'....Sorry love...it's not me! You forgotten what he looks like?'

I started to laugh...as did he..

And I chuckled all the way back to 'Martha's Cookies' where I waited...for less than 60 seconds.

He strode towards me, smiling, talking to me on his phone...and tall...oh yes....tall!

A tentative kiss.
He did not touch me....until we were inside the cab....just slightly...on my hand...but ...

Oh how it made me tingle in my knickers!

It is though, isn't it.
I love days like this when I can feel the warmth on my skin and smell the scent of the climbing roses.
Calling and twirling their songs, the birds provide the music and I can savour the feeling of not having to go to work tomorrow...or the next day...or the day after that...

However, small issue of...well exactly that. My darling issue!!! ('children' in Shakespeare language for those who need translation!)

This time next week, I will be exhausted, stressed, deaf, have no voice left...and be utterly desperate to get back...to work...

Along the warm streets, words of many tongues.
Burlington Arcade,
Fortnum and Mason,

The Royal Academy Of Art...

Silver unfolding sheen into the sunlight..across the courtyard.

I sat on the half-moon bench and thought and wondered...

Watching my reflection inside the magnificent metal before the ancient stonework...where glass lifts and glass spiral staircases melt into the ancient depths of the ancient walls...and look beautiful in their melting.

http://www.royalacademy.org.uk/events/

A sixteen year old warrior caught my eye..he looked older than sixteen...
he epitomised the Japanese warrior...Miller style...

I breathed in the moments and then wandered back to the park.

I waited for him beneath the chesnut trees and in view of the window of our illicit but beautiful bed...

Kuniyoshi
From the Arthur R. Miller Collection
21 March—7 June 2009

Recently, someone told me about reality and legend.
Let me tell you, this is real...
He is there...somewhere...and my obscure outlook and my missing link I always wonder...was I..am I like him...

The one who never returned...yet I think of him more than my own parents.

I wept at his grave in the cemetary of La Deliverance..and still do when I visit his sacred ground.

Buried in a field a small ocean away, he feels closer to me than the warmth of flesh who gave birth to me...
yet she was his daughter.

The third photo is framed and above my head as I write this..on the wall of the family room...

He was killed...4 weeks later, ironically surviving D Day...in the city of Caen.

I adore Northern France and have not been for many years..

...I had the most wonderful time...

...and I don't want to share it right now...

They are all mine...the memories are mine.

The greeness of Green Park.
The distant figure in blue.
The shadows in the restaurant.
The redness of the wine.
The clarity of the oil.
The white fizz of champagne.
The yellow of the label.
The delicate motion of the kiss.
The urgent and smooth hands.
The reading of poetry.
The talk of films.
The calmness of his eyes.
The silence of his gaze.

The pictures of words.

Time is moving and Jones appears near now...He told me he never expected me to make Paris; well he is right; it's London instead.

I travel tomorrow evening and this time tomorrow...is too surreal for me to think about.

We have not ignored each other.
We have not suffocated each other.

We have shared a tentative desire and which has been driven through the anticipation of the event.

This time tomorrow will be filled with him...

I am nervous...a little...but happy.

Today, I sent an email, to me...

It will arrive in my Inbox in exactly 5 years time.

I have made it a 'public' message, although anonymous.

Take a look...it's intriguing.

http://www.futureme.org/

'It's not me at all,'she murmurs
Twining the thoughts inside her tumult;
Twizzling them around her pondering finger
Falling amongst the tangles in her hair.
'It's not me.'
'It's not.'

Her feet sink inside the dirty golden carpet,
Deeply wrapped in the sifting, shifting rolling ground.
Whining and whooshing, the whiteness of gulls sweep the invisible ceiling above
her head,
Silver cobwebs of thought
falling over her face.

'Murmur murmer...' mutters the sea.
'But, it's not me,' she whispers.
'Not me.'

Foamy whiteness hisses around the ground
upon which she walks
Reflecting her confusion and confiding in her feet.
'It is...'
Shushing and shooing her thoughts into silence.

Stepping into the sharp rolling crystal
of the sea,
She shimmers, drowning in her reflection.
Drowning in her mirror.
Slashing ice upon her skin
Wanting to fall deeply within her
dark depths.

'No'
the 'o' fills
with water.
Water from the crystal sea.

'Oh'
'Not me.'

'How will you kiss me?' she said.

'How will you hold me?' she said.

'How will you touch me?' she said.

'I cannot write about those things,' he said.

'Do not write them,'she said.

'Just do them,' she said.

I have been told...it has to be ..'Beside The Sea'

Typical.

I can find no words.

Not yet.

I am ususlly a random, alcohol induced, tired and sleep-starved writer of poetry.

My best words spill onto the page when I am in a haze...I set them free and the padlocks are undone.

Never do I edit...hence that slow feeling of panic the morning after I have written something creative...

I stumble to the screen and scan my words...and feel amazed as I look for the poet sitting upon my shoulder.

She is there always, invisible... yet is mute when I demand her to write.

She is another one of me.

Separate but the same...

Television drama...the birth of something special.

Clocking Off
The Street
Cutting It
Life On Mars
Ashes to Ashes

This is the stuff of quality.

This is Britdrama.

'We are almost there,' he said.

'Yes,' she said.

'Are you excited?' he said.

'Are you worried?' he said.

'I may not reach your expectations,' she said.

'How do you know I will reach yours?' he said.

'You will,' she said.

I am applying for a new job.
A new building.

I do not know if it is the right thing to do; the right place or time.

All I know is that Bitch pushes me down and I need to breathe.

I hand in my application and take a look around on Wednesday.

They will shortlist and call me on Friday ...when my limbs are wrapped around Jones.

Sitting here in the conservatory and it's absolutely pelting it down! It's so loud!!!
Thin white silver lines of rain are falling like spears onto the patio and lawn; the decking is glistening and there is a Blackbird still feeding...trying to catch the worms.
Utter concentration as he takes his time across the bouncing grass.

I love the sound of the rain...and it smells beautiful and fresh.

I've given up bringing the washing in!

Even the pet dog and cat are sitting here side by side looking out; united by the rain!

Bluebells and broken ponds
Deep forests and many voices.
She has died again,
In my dream.

She left me the garden,
Filled with Bluebells.
Concerned shadows lean over me
Not knowing me.

They don't know who I am.

Water is rising,
Seeping out of the edges
Breaking the dry earth

Drowning it.

And still the rain falls.
Tears fall from the sky

The daughter's eyes remain dry.
Forests filling her head...

I bought some lace and lovely undies today...not for anything special...I just want the newness and wiss to throw away all those that look slightly tattered now.

It rained as I walked in town with the children.

I imagined how I would feel this time next week.

I feel I'm watching something from 1940 or so...
Men need to go on a 'rehabilitation' course if they are caught kerb crawling in a hope to 'change' their behaviour. (Nottingham)

Now this is 'street prostitution'...so is visiting a brothel better then?
Personally, a well run house does some good in my view. I can see a need to target the pimp and exploitation of innocent girls ...

However... I can imagine many people in positions of authority..police included...who use working girls....

Is there a similar course for women who use gigilos then?

Plurals lovely and a beautiful night. The rain stopped so the limos, Mustangs, Lexus, Porsche, horse and carriage, fire engine, etc ...

Just lovely to see them...and to be part of a lovely evening.

So much has happened in just a year and I am back to where I should be.

The other night I dreamt that my mother had died.

A few days after my sister.

I felt a deep longing and also an emptiness.

I have been alone ....for nearly 20 years...I would not know if they were dead or not.

The final Year Plurals left today and it was lovely to wander amongst them on the field, signing shirts and having photos...

The prom tomorrow night...all limos and ball gowns...it will be wonderful.

However...a little bird told me..Bitch 2 will be there....oh well...I'll dress to knock her dead.

'You are the expert,' he said.

'Thank you,' she said.

'I have never bought them in the UK,' he said.

'Are they bigger...then, ' she said.

'We will discuss over dinner, ' he said.

I saw a Magpie at 5 pm...flying low over the Close...a baby blackbird in its beak.

The noise was terrible.

The Mum and Dad Blackbird swooped and dived...over and over...to no avail. They stood...silently bewildered when the black and white ogre flew on...above the ogre circled a seagull...so...it was all inevitable.

But the noise.
The silent statues of the robbed parents embodied loss and misunderstanding.

Later...I opened the greenhouse door and watched and listened to a beautiful Blue Tit chirp and flutter as it stuttered out....goodness know how many hours he had been trapped. Spotted him from the kitchen window...but thought I was seeing things!!!
They fly in...a tiny gap....and knock themselves senseless trying to escape!

My daughter looked tearful with it all...and then reassured me... 'It's nature Mummy.'

Wise and worldly...for one so young...

I used the Zamzar conversion tool a lot tonight...downloading persuasive speeches that were filled with persuasive conventions...for my Plurals who have a very very important exam on the 2nd of June!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WLrrBs8JBQo

Then I slotted in...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hH6nQhss4Yc

Clearly...I then need a modern icon they all know!!!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U_lQYC7vqBg

Finally..the most sophisticated of them all....
emotive vocabulary, second person, alliteration, pattern of three, repetition, emotive imagery, opposites, balances of sentences, personification, metaphor, paradox...rhetorical questions....hyperbole and emotive anecdote...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iEMXaTktUfA

Let me add this...the racist comments on a public site such as this beneath a monumentous speech such as this make me vomit.

This changed the future of the United States.
This began the countdown to Dr King's demise.
This signalled the end of Kennedy.

Yet...it lives...on and on....and I am proud to use this speech to teach my young, affluent, mainly white, insulated, English middle class students...

that justice is important as are human rights concerning race...

and...if they use Dr King's conventions in the exam...they will pass the exam!!!

A friend on here kindly sent me this.

I had actually already seen it but was prompted into sharing this with you as it mirrors some of my behaviour and I am grateful to acknowledge it is the more positive and pleasurable. The information which suggests that a third of women cannot reach or experience orgasm...is something I find difficult to believe. Do you think it's true? Am I blind to the reality of the sexual disappointment of others?

Please comment. Tell me what you know, think or indeed what you can or cannot experience. If a third of women cannot experience the pleasure of orgasm in 2009...what on earth does that suggest about our society?

If the same figure was true of men however...would we be dealing with things differently?

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/health/8044571.stm

I am the epitome of goodness...for the last 72 hours...

I have not played or orgasmed...

Not actually fucked for goodness knows how long...

I may need to use my pillow in the morning...and I will enjoy the wetness of my play.

I will tell you tomorrow....

This time of year does stress me out a little...with our feathered friends.
I mean, do Blackbirds have a suicide wish?

They swoop and fly so low across the road, infront of speeding traffic, my heart is in my mouth. I imagine the nest full of baby blackbirds waiting for Mummy or Daddy blackbird to return, when actually, Mummy or Daddy is dead on the road...as they have swooped so low infront of the cars!

Saw several today as I walked with Budding Vet and the pet dog. We walked across fields, beside the beck and around the ponds...it was lovely, although she moaned a little as her late night was catching up with her. Sleepovers. say no more! On our way back we had to walk next to a busy road and we witnessed several potential suicides.

At home, we were greeted with the incessant loud shouting of the Sparrows who have nested under the roof yet again. They are delightful and feisty creatures. We laugh as the family under our roof frequently appear to land on the house next door...where there is an identical roof...and another Sparrow family is there...exactly in the same spot! After lots of argy-bargy on the ridge tiles, Spires and Turrets Sparrows finally find their way home...and peace reigns...for...a few minutes! Next door Sparrows shout long and hard..to make their point! God, no wonder people used to shoot them! Noisy is an understatement!

Magpies are in their mega-nest in the tree next door...It's the mother of all nests, believe me.

Goldfinches sing and whine and trill beautifully on our aerial before looping down to the bird feeders.

Mr and Mrs Robin visit and feed and strut.

Coal tits and Blue tits are flitting to our feeders from next door-but-one....

The collared doves...definitely the blonde personalities, make such a cooing every time they descend for landing, we all know they are on their way....and they bonk all the bloody time! On the fence...in full view! Try explaining that to a five year old!

Giants of white march on the garage roof, eating the scraps and pretending they aren't really sea birds with huge webbed feet!

Finally, the falcon swoops like a black bullet and occasionally manages to knock out one of the unfortunate pigeons before standing over its prey on the lawn, ripping out the feathers as it ensures the kill.

Who thought a back garden could be so exciting?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HAQOWViUm0I

My third adulterous liaison (Yes you are right, I've not yet divulged my second), was with a handsome, intelligent and assertive young man...ten years my junior with a lilting accent from Scotland. I met him prior to meeting Darcy...

It was a very dirty encounter actually (thay all were); ridiculously risky as far as location was concerned, but deeply addictive. We met about half a dozen times only, spending the night together just once....although, for that I'm thankful as he had energy in abundance with awesome stamina!

Our first time...and second...was...(you'd better sit down, or take a deep breath) in his car, a Corsa, in some lay-by not all that far away from where I live. I still drive past there from time to time and actually feel myself blush...with excitement as my tummy dips deeply and makes me gasp as my heartbeat quickens for a few moments...

Sauntering over to greet him in the darkness, I still remember the coldness of the car bonnet on my thighs above my stockings as he held me and kissed hard, pushing me back against the metal and using his feet to spread my booted legs slightly apart, giving him easy and smooth access to grab the lace knickers and slowly and deliberately rip them...literally.

Holding them, he inhaled deeply and told me he was going to make me beg him to fuck me; obviously, I was not far from begging already and he'd barely touched me.

'Get in.'

His words left white wisps in the sharp, dark air. The passenger seat was quickly put back and he straddled me as he undressed me, button by button...I could see his erection and tried to undress him; shaking his head he pinned my arms down with his knees and I savoured the cold air falling over my breasts and tummy as he sucked and bit and massaged and pulled and played. With my boots and stockings still on and my skirt wrapped around my waist, my moans and cries transformed into rivulets of condensation inside the suprisingly roomy car!

Finally, I was allowed to pull him towards me as he straddled over me again and pushed himself deeply inside my mouth...but I wanted him to utterly have me...
which he did.

I remember being told to turn over...and then I heard him tearing the condom packet...

It was a truly hard and energetic, demanding fuck...in a nutshell...and I still think of it even now!

As he walked me back to my car, we both smiled as the lorry driver who had pulled up within a foot of the Corsa gave us a thumbs up! We hadn't even heard his vehicle during our clamour!

http://greenteeth.blog.co.uk/2009/05/08/education-how-shite-are-sats-tests-6082025/comment_ID/9857123/comment_level/1/#c9857123

I have commented (fact) on the fanatics' blog again...(opinion)

For the less intelligent...I have given you some help ...in brackets.

I am just wasting my time...but...you know what is so delicious...staying calm and serene and composed.

And, knowing...that I am right.

I have my heels.

I don't need a soap box.

Tonight, it's dark and windy and pouring down; anyone would think something bad was going to happen!

Tonight, I left The Building late as it was a Plurals Evening. (I wore my knickers though...white and lovely).

Tonight, I answered all my comments and felt rather good about it as I had my faith restored in sense and human nature.

Tonight, I embroidered my Jones alibi as I believed it a little frayed...still no bloody idea where I'm actually staying!

Tonight, I reflected on Bespoke and pondered on the reply I received this morning: fallout, probate and frame of mind...not.

Tonight, I received a lively and kind text from Blue. Not seen him for a while and frankly not had the time or burning desire...I'm in a Jones preparation phase and I do not wish to interrupt THAT burning desire.

Tonight, I looked at my body and thought...well...actually wondered...what it was men saw/wanted/desired/enjoyed? My skin is smooth, my body curvy and sensual and lovely...but not what I see as beautiful.I know the flaws.

Tonight, my reflection just wondered as much as I did.

Tonight, I felt Jones' silence but I did not feel rejected or ignored.

Tonight, I spurned the pathetic fallacy in the skies over my spires.

Memories today...and the thoughts of something new.

The first time I was unfaithful to my husband...was 2 months before I 'met' Darcy on some website.

He was from Ireland and actually flew in to Heathrow...to spend two nights with me.I travelled by train.I knew him as 'John' yet he confessed he was Matt and his wife was expecting their third child.

I was his first adulterous encounter and later discovered I completely intimidated him.
Truthfully, I wanted to return home within 24 hours.

I have since met men, wonderful men with whom I want to spend 2 nights with yet am unable to...

Darcy and I did...I refused G-inc...and have stepped carefully around others...

Yet, Jones and I will.
It's something I have no worries about...apart from the fact...

I might snore!!

Do you snore more as you get older?

http://prettyintelligentprincess.blog.co.uk/2008/06/01/empty-spaces-and-empty-compartments-4255780/

Someone asked me about compartments in my head.

I look at my writing and I cannot believe I wrote it.
Where have all those words come from?

...I am not worried at all,' he said.

'You must have some butterflies though?' she mused.

'A few.'

I saw the Google car yesterday...

Driving around town...

Have you seen it yet?
I also did wonder about the morality of it all. I mean, wouldn't it be plausible to 'apply for Google car permission' from the local council in the same way as one applies for planning permission...so we all know it's coming and we could object if we did not want our street filming ...

Or, is that being a little over the top?

I need to sleep...
I sit in my dress and... and... dread the advances of my husband...for a painful four minutes....I'd rather not.

My new bra...is gorgeous...in fact I spent almost £90 today on three bras and 1 pair of naughty knickers....

40 d is the Debenhams me...apparently.

Jones had better appreciate the effort...as my dress for dinner is smart and bright and fun...without being too formal or too young.

However...I wanted him today...
I used my imagination.
I felt him.

You seen me yet?

Have you?

You are all able to see me...
if you are a friend of course....