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[DIARY ARCHIVES]
Sunday
- October 05, 2003
Barn Burnin'
October?
October? Is this year on an accelerated calendar or something?
Yeowza.
Well, anyway obviously I have no time to play around. Let’s
get down to brass tacks. Or push pins, or whatever people get
down to when it is nitty-gritty detail time (as opposed to Nitty
Gritty Dirt Band time).
First, I have made a fabulous new phone sex pal who operates a
phone sex service across the pond, in the UK. This is marvelous
because I get so much email from clients who find my site on
Google UK but who are unable to ring me or my slut sisters due
to long-distance issues. Good news UK! You can now call: 0909
656 1988. You have to be 18 or over to call, the cost is
only £1.50 per minute, and because the UK has some wonky law
stating that there has to be an address provided with a phone
number, you’ll find that at the bottom of the page.* You
cannot ring me this way yet, but we’re trying to work that out
in the upcoming months. The idea of getting to chat with fellows
of various accents is…well, let’s call it a priority. I’m
fascinated by the idea of listening to proper British gents
talking dirty, and in finding out what kinks they have in common
with us uncultured American types.
Speaking of uncultured American types…
As previously mentioned, I have been on the phone a lot with a
client who enjoys talking about the “unfortunate
hitch-hiker” and “barn girl.” Both these fantasies are
near and dear to my heart because they generally involve (1) age
play (2) non-consent situations and (3) the occasional bout with
incest. Tres yummy.
Lately, I have also been spending a great deal of time with this
client discussing the psychological factors that have probably
contributed to our mutual kinks. There is something about the
mind that just falls over itself to try and understand why it
dwells in the clouds, I suppose.
For my part, I know that I was a very sexually-aware child.
Which is not to say I wasn’t sheltered in upper-middle-class
white suburbia. Indeed I was. But I always seemed more aware of
sexual topics than average kids. Not that I spent a great deal
of time around average kids. Being home schooled tends to thrust
you into the company of adults more than not (No, my family were
not religious lunatics. I came home from my second day of
kindergarten to inform my grandmother that my teacher told me I
had been taught to read improperly. This began a habitual
pattern that continued through most of my childhood a few days
every other year until a teacher pissed off my grandmother with
some utterly closed-minded or ridiculous criticism of her
teaching habits. I come from strong-minded womenfolk, okay?)
So, I routinely found myself in accelerated sexual situations.
Definitely experimented with fire early. Spent the usual angst
time wondering if I should be guilty over continuing to focus so
much on the things that felt good, but society dictated were
bad. But, you know, I think you reach a point in adulthood where
you just say, “what the fuck.” Aforementioned strong-minded
womenfolk also helped in this regard, I’m sure. Because, you
know, society be damned, what a woman does with herself under
the bubbles of her bathtub is her own affair.
But I digress…
None of this explains why I like to role play underage incest
and rape fantasies. Or why so many people love to read my
stories on these topics and/or roleplay with me. Phonesex is a
fun loving kettle of fish and often the brew is just ripe with
psyche rumbling. So, I say “what the fuck.”
Hopefully you will, too. If not, please don’t read further.
Barn girl is likely to offend you.
Barn girl is a general “teasing young sex kitten gets her
comeuppance” fantasy. A cautionary tale. Your average Bo-Peep
/ Little Red Riding Hood / Goldilocks situation. Well, no,
actually it’s nothing like that.
Typically barn girl is probably in the vicinity of fourteen or
fifteen. Occasionally sixteen, but generally younger. You know
that age when teenage girls are just food? All bare midriff and
perky tits and supple thighs? Trouble is barn girl dresses
something like this:
So, as one might imagine, barn
girl has been getting the cowboys and farmhands all riled up to
say nothing of her Daddy who has to keep the rowdys in line. She
likes to just lounge around up in the barn loft getting hay
stuck in her hair and looking like a luscious little undone sex
kitten. Well, there’s only so much a farmhand can take, and
little barn girl soon finds herself beset on by the cowboys
she’s been teasing and tempting like so much Little Debbie
snack food.
Mmmmmmmmmm Nutty Bars. Oh sorry. Homer Simpson food fantasy
moment. Continuing now…
Anyway, while they are closing in on her, ripping her scant
clothing into ribbons and pulling her by the pigtails onto her
hands and knees, she realizes she really is going to get way
more than she ever bargained for. She is soon sucking and
slurping and getting smacked in the face with cock, her fist
curled around one each, all sweat and screaming and dripping wet
trouble when Daddy shows up. Just in time, and gives all the
horn dogs what for.
This leaves little barn girl all nekkid and pouty thinking
she’s been rescued until Daddy comes back and plops her down
over his knee for a hearty spanking. And, of course, it occurs
to the farmer that his daughter probably isn’t going to be a
little virgin slut for much longer the way things are going, so
he needs to break her in right…
And, well, things get a little cliché from there. But yummy.
Taboo. It’s what’s for lunch.
So, anyway, now I’m all hot and bothered and off to commit
random acts of phone sex sluttiness.
Oh. And here is a Halloween time link that should brighten up
your day. It was sent by one of my callers/email correspondents
who is a good boy and gracious pen pal: http://www.cultsirens.com/listing.htm
Don’t say I never gave ya nuthin’
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