Wednesday 29 July 2009

Horny Housewives 2 : The Michelle Sutton Chronicles

My life is becoming increasingly x-rated. Oo-er.

Last night, rathr naughily, I jumped back on the IllicitEncounters horse...just for the evening you understand. After all, Hubby was out. I kind of told James I wasn't going to use it anymore. But what the hey.

Anyway, those of you who have read my blog for a while, will know I have only had one 'cyber' encounter, which ended rather badly. Partly because the gentleman participating was two biscuits short of a Hobnob. A minus-biscuit, if you will.

Over the last couple of weeks I have been in "conversation" with a rather nice gentleman via IE. Turns out, in fact, that he is not so much nice, as completely and utterfly filthy.

Yesterday evening, in traditional fashion, I stayed up past my bed time and logged on to chat. There he was, his handle a refernece to an early Ian McEwan novel, swanning around online like some 18th century cad (this is what I imagine he looks like. To be honest, he's probably no better than the illiterate BigGuy69 who contacted me all those months back. Still.).

Little chat window appears.

"Hello, hello, hello. Didn't expect to see you here." says Cad.

*Squeeeek!* Correctly punctuated!

"Well, here I am, Mister. How are you?"

I won't bore you with the details, but somehow, in the space of about 20 minutes, we got from polite introductions, to this...

"I want to put your ________ _____ inside my ___ _______ and ______ you _____ until you _____ in my ______"

I trust you all have minds filthy enough to join me in my little game of Blankety Blank.

I never knew cyber-sex could be so enjoyable! The man was like a walking dictionary. No adjective unturned, no euphimism unused. We drew the line at cooking analergies (never thought it was particularly hot to imagine someone pounding my dough). Helps when youve got a little plastic friend to help you out, too (note to female readers; I should clarify hear that, although they look a lot of fun, Trolls and My Little Pony's are entirely unsuitable for this time of activity. If you're out of batteries, I find Weebles are quite good.).

If you haven't tried it, I suggest you should. But only with someone who is not completely devoid of creative writing skills. Perhaps a frustrated journalist. Or a blogger. Hey hey hey.

Monday 27 July 2009

Read all about it.

I was in the sodding Independent! Look!

http://www.independent.co.uk/life-style/love-sex/men-women/true-wife-confessions-how-womens-reallife-stories-became-the-new-internet-sensation-1757228.html

As was my good (virtual) friend Karen, serial mistress, who I keep hearing on the radio. Good on you woman.

Bought the Indy on Saturday as the Guardian was out of stock at my local corner shop (for some reason I feel it is important to point out that I am a Guardian reader...smug smug smuuuug). Hubby chucks me the supplements and I nearly choke on my Tesco croissant. Of course, Hubby is none the wiser - in fact, it was rather thrilling to see him reading the article later that evening, salivating over the details. Lets just hope he doesn't log on, eh?

James doesn't know about my blog and I think it's probably best to keep it that way. After all, I feel the painfully narcissistic process of reading about oneself in what is essentially a diary would do nothing for the boy's already-damaged sense-of-self. We haven't seen each other for a while...I think it's best to take a genuine break from your lover every now and then. Let's face it, familiarity definitely breeds contempt.


At work, currently. Andrew has turned his attentions back to the younger in the office, and is currently terrorising our new intern, Jessie May. I think I just saw him deliberately walk in slow-motion past her desk, like some displaced Baywatch lifeguard.

Wednesday 22 July 2009

Twatter

I'm sorry. I don't get it. Twitter? Why?

I joined about three montsh ago and since have told the world what I am up to 22 times. A pathetic number of Twitters compared to some. Here are some of the fascinating highlights...

MistressMich...is having a Gloria Estefan moment
MistressMich...has bitten all the nails of on her left hand
MistressMich...is probably going to unsubscribe from RadioOne

FASCINATING.

In an attempt to find meaning in Twitter, I found several celebrities who I thought might have something to say for themselves - since this is apparantly the PR tool of this century. And they're all media whores. I was left, however, deflated. Take a look at these...

Britney Spears...had dinner with my dancers last night.
Denise Richards...girls are at camp..I'm catching up on emails, phonecalls.....
Moby...is in Helsinki, eating carrots.

Entries seems to fall between dull and absurd. But all envoke the same question, which rings out into the street now as I scream it at my monitor, after reading another painfully smug post by serial Twit Steven Fry...

"WHO CARES?"

I don't. Evidently. I am commiting Twitter suicide. I have the mouse ready. Don't try and stop me.

Monday 13 July 2009

OMFG

That's aparantly what the kids are typing these days.

Anyway. Something HILARIOUS happened to me today - something I could only tell my IE friends. Sal at work forwarded me an email entitled "Shocking". In it was the following link, and underneath it, the words "What is the world coming to?"

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/finance/personalfinance/pensions/5769370/Cheating-husbands-and-wives-spend-more-on-love-affairs-than-pension.html

If only you knew, I thought.

Monday 6 July 2009

Chai Latte

is my new favourite beverage. Why had I not previosuly tried it? It is officially the best drink ever. Still, makes you feel a bit nauseous if you drink it too quickly.

I am hoping there is caffine in myy Latte, because, as usually, I am almost falling asleep at my desk. I'm impressed at how I have managed to not get sacked these past few months, after sexing my way to an almost perminant catatonic state. Probably best not to question these things.

James and I appear to be in our second flush. I think the key is to not see them very often. At the most once a week. Otherwise you end up spending as much time with them as you do with your hubby. And, apart from the glaringly obvious problem of raising too many questions, spending too much time together is probably the reason your hubby iritaes you so much in the first place. I did not decide to take a lover to become more irritable than I am now, IYKWIM.

New abreviation I'm trying out. Maybe a little clunky.

So things are good. We made nookie in the car last week. Started out awkward. Became very comfortable. :)