Crazy Chemistry

It happens sometimes.

Usually, it comes out of left field and blind sides you when you’re least expecting it.


Like CRAZY GOOD CHEMISTRY with someone who you maybe should not engage in chemical reactions with, if you catch my drift.

Like for instance, a married man.

Or your sister’s ex-boyfriend from high school.

Or maybe even someone who you totally despise except for the fact that you totally want to jump their bones.

That’s how it is sometimes.


There’s really no predicting it.

There’s someone out there right now who I literally CAN’T WAIT to get my hands on.

Of course, he’s totally unavailable, which is – I am sure – part of his charm.

The thing is, every time I think of him in the biblical sense, I get this ache in my body, like I’m missing something important – such as food or water.

And I’m reminded of what my OM instructor said to our class a long time ago – that orgasm is as essential to the human existence as sleep.

And I think it’s pretty clear I’m suffering.

Crazy fucking chemistry.

There’s no escaping it.

Please sir, may I have some more?

As the owner of this blog, I’m privy to some information such as the search terms that people put in their browsers to surf on in to my site.

Mind you, 90% of the time, the search terms show up as “unknown.”

I only see about 10% of the search terms people use.

And periodically I flip through them because they are awfully entertaining:

  • Thick thighs in mini skirts
  • Accidental skirt up girdle
  • Slutty shoes blog
  • Even fresh fucking pineapple

It’s all very amusing.

Today, a new search term popped up in my browser – Lumberjack Spanking.

Now, I’ve never heard of this before but my instant reaction was “yes please” and a very yummy flashback to an X-rated memory from April of 2015.

I blogged it but since it’s password protected, if you want to read it you will need to email me at in order to get the password.

I think it’s worth the read.

Doesn’t a lumberjack spanking sound delicious?



I’m telling you, it’s been YEARS since I thought about my own lumberjack spanking so long ago but just the thought of it has GOT ME GOING.

Please sir, may I have some more?


Just Like Honey

O. M. G.

The response to my “Thick Thighs and Bodacious Breasts” post has been AMAZING.

Imagine spending your whole life HATING your body only to find a smidge of love for it at age 43.

You write a blog post about that little smidge of love and you get love in return.


I know it’s not for every one.

Body diversity is a beautiful thing, whether you’re tiny, big, or in between

I originally posed for boudoir photos because I couldn’t imagine anything harder than posting images of my body on the internet.

You’ll notice that most of the images I use are close up selfies.

And even after I posted my boudoir photos, I snuck in the picture of me standing, in full thick thigh glory, to another unpublicized post.

I didn’t like the photo but knew that for personal reasons, I had to post it.

So, given that I virtually BURIED the image of my thighs in my blog, you can imagine my surprise to find it was the most CLICKED ON image in my ENTIRE site.

Maybe it was curiosity that made people click.

Maybe it was desire.

Or maybe disgust.

Hopefully more of the former, less of the latter.

In any case, I just want to say how touched I am that you all took a moment to read my post and share your approval of it, even if you’re not into thick thighs.

And if you are into thick thighs. . .

. . .mine are sweet and thick, just like honey!

But the BEST PART OF THE DAY was getting this message from someone special:



I have a theory about fortune cookies.

If you get a fortune you don’t care for, just leave it on the table and the fortune goes away.

But if you get a fortune you like, you have to keep it on your person and it will come true.

At any given time, you can find a half dozen or so fortunes stuffed in my wallet.

The other day, I got THIS fortune with my Panda Express order:

A long awaited vacation?

A great deal of pleasure?

Am I going to Sweden?

Cuz that way pleasure lies.

Oh, how I miss my Swede.

Then again, maybe it’s referring to Burning Man.

When I think of all the things I want to do at Burning Man, I get warm and fuzzy feelings inside.

My cuddle puddle.

The foam bath dance party.

Human Carcass Wash.


Given the fact that I’ve been abstinent since unSCruz in May, I LOVE the idea of having a “great” deal of pleasure coming my way.

It just remains to be seen which form that pleasure comes in.

But overall, this fortune?

It’s a keeper.

Thick thighs and bodacious breasts

Pretty much my whole life I have wished I had legs like Heidi Klum.

Slim. Sexy. Statuesque.

What did I get?

Thick legs.

Lately however, I haven’t minded as much.

Perhaps it’s because I no longer read beauty magazines which inundate me with images of women with bodies so very unlike my own.

Perhaps it’s because I’ve set up my Instagram feed to show me images of plus size beauties like @lillias_right

And @theericalauren

There’s just something about seeing women with bodies like my own that make me feel more confident in my own skin.

Nevertheless, I was surprised to find that THIS

was my most popular boudoir photo.

Thick thighs. Hip tattoos showing. Airbrushed skin like plastic.

I suppose that there are men (and women) out there who like thick legs.

I know they are growing on me.

My other most popular picture on this blog is this one:

A hot tub photo with a near nip slip.

Ample breasts, steamy skin, wild hair.

The popularity of this photo surprises me less.

I’ve just got to say how very impressed I am with my blog audience for liking these photos.

Guess what?

Thick thighs and bodacious breasts are IN!




Wedding Season

I know there’s such a thing as “wedding season.”

When all the brides and grooms decide to take advantage of the pleasant weather and throw a party to celebrate their nuptials.

I LOVE going to weddings, but sadly haven’t attended that many.

Maybe 6 or 7 in my entire lifetime.

That’s not too many considering I’m including my own.

So you can imagine I was THRILLED when I got invited to a friend’s DESTINATION wedding in Yosemite.

What could be better than visiting the sequoias, listening to a rushing river, and watching two people I care about remind me that love is a beautiful thing?

I always feel, if only for a little while, optimistic about my own love prospects.

I am reminded that yes, I actually want something more than flings in my life.

That I’d like to invest my care and concern in another human being.

It all seems so real and possible when I’m at a wedding.

Other people find it.

Why not me?


So I’m at work, wearing a lovely sunflower yellow sundress.

I got three compliments within 15 minutes of arriving at work.

One person told me “You better have a date tonight. It’d be a shame to waste that dress.”

The truth is I LOVE this dress.

I’m going to wear it to the wedding I’m going to in September.

It’s simple and understated yet festive and bright.

But I discovered a design flaw.

There is no lining.

And HOW did I discover this, you might ask?

Well I turned sideways to look at my butt in the bathroom mirror at work and discovered. . .

. . that my blue lace underwear was TOTALLY SHOWING THROUGH MY YELLOW DRESS.

Now I understand why so many people were looking at me when I went to lunch.

It wasn’t (just because ) I looked pretty.

No, it’s because they could see my knickers!

The thing is, now I have to figure out what to do to get myself through the rest of my work day without flashing too many more people my undergarments.

And I think I’ve come up with a pretty good answer.

One that will make all my “unblunder” followers proud.

I’m going commando!



Many of you already know I have a GINORMOUS spider phobia.

I scream when OTHER PEOPLE squash spiders.

What you don’t know is WHY I have arachnophobia.

Way back, when I was a young little girl, I didn’t like it when spiders were in my room. So I’d ask my dad to get rid of them.

My dad, being a vegetarian/pacifist who doesn’t believe in the senseless slaughter of animals, would get a plastic baggie and try to capture the spider in a bag.

Nine times out of ten the spider would fall behind my bed and I wouldn’t be able to sleep in my room that night.

When he DID catch the spider in the bag, he’d shake the bag in front of my face (yes, I know, not very kind to the spider), scaring me witless (yes, I know, not very kind to me).

Fast forward 4 decades and here I am, still scared of spiders but SOMEWHAT able to deal with them myself (squishing, flushing, stomping, etc).

I only OCCASIONALLY scream.

Which is why I have this fear/fascination with countries with LARGE and/or deadly spiders: Australia, South Africa, etc.

More than anything I want to go to Australia.

But have you SEEN those huntsman spiders?

Or, God forbid, a funnel web spider (which I think is a man killer)?

Someday I will drag myself to Australia, and I am sure I’ll have a great time, but believe you me, it will be with the thought of deadly spiders in my head THE WHOLE TIME!


P.S. My last run in was with a spider crawling on my neck in my tent trailer and I threw it across the trailer and against the front door. It made a THUD! FREAKY!


Freaky “Photographers”

The freak factor can be high with “photographers.”

Especially MALE photographers.

I have an innate distrust of them.

It comes from years of growing up and having men offer to “take my picture” which was code for “get to see me naked, maybe more. . .”

Take The Greek, for instance.

He offered to take my picture then spent most of the time sucking on my, ahem, face.

Okay, maybe it wasn’t my face.

But seriously, I have an appreciation for men who tell the truth.

Who ask for what they really want and make it clear to you that they want sex.

Sure, I’m probably going to turn them down, but I love the transparency.

As it turns out, I am not opposed to erotic pictures.

However, the only men I have allowed to take erotic pictures of me are my lovers.

Seems fair since I take pictures of them in return.

Lately though, I’ve met a couple of reputable photographers in the Burner community.

Ones who intend to take pictures and don’t push the boundaries of that expectation.

I’m finally developing a little trust in my fellow burner photographers.

Decent men taking extraordinary pictures who promise to tow the line and not reach out of bounds.

And I appreciate that a great deal.

Because, when all is said and done, I love having my picture taken.

I just don’t want to trade my body for a photo.


We spend a lot of time discussing women’s hygiene and personal habits.

We seldom talk about men.

It strikes me that there is a BIG double standard (duh) between hygiene habits of women and hygiene habits of men.

I’ve never heard a man worry about how he smells or tastes down there.

And let me tell you, I’ve been with a few FUNKY men.

Why don’t men worry more?

They should (see above statement about funky men).

I knew a German who believed in “taking it all off.”

Everything was so nice and smooth and clean.

I have a picture of him in naught more than a parted bathrobe that literally freezes every woman in her tracks when I show it to them.

Of course there was also Charlie The Aussie who (when I suggested manscaping to him) promptly shut me down by saying, “I’m Australian. We don’t MANSCAPE.”

There must be a happy medium.

Some way a guy can take care of business but not so much that he starts to resemble something under 13 years old.

Would it kill a guy to TRIM?

Do a little weed whacking south of the border?

And, you know, wash thoroughly in the shower every time?

Perhaps shake it one or two EXTRA times till the last drop falls off?

I know it sounds crazy but I’m not a big fan of funk.

And the truth is, men could take a page out of the woman’s playbook and spend a little more time manscaping.

There’s always the EXTRA OPTICAL INCH to be gained!