Captain’s Log 4,469
With one day left before the deadline, I am pleased to report that I have enough entries to take me into next week for the I Think I Look Like Angela Lansbury With Fifty Shades of Grey contest. Trust me, I can handle more, but I must have your photo no later than Monday morning (taking into account times zones and things). Entries will officially end when I sit down at the computer on Monday morning at 7:00 but will continue to post until everyone has a “story.” Like I do every morning except weekends. I write a bit later on those days because the Confederacy does not require my presence. So… please send your photo to poolagirl (at) aol dot com. That is all.
This next entry comes from someone I met in my Diaryland days. I am not sure how the meeting happened, but we have had some major fun over the years. Although she no longer writes, Miss Hiss makes an occasional foray into the journal world to see what’s happening. I’m glad she dropped in here a few days ago and discovered that she still had time to send in her entry all the way from Australia. So…here you have it. Miss Hiss!
Ana knows how much Christian is affected by her lips….especially when she bites them and looks innocent and pensive. Since she hasn’t used her intellect for DAYS, the language of lips will suffice. She enters the $40,000,000 apartment fresh from a day of shopping (with bodyguards sneaking around like CIA agents behind her). “Good afternoon, Mr. Grey,” she purrs as she sets her $5,000 bag on the table. He is not pleased. “You’re late, Ana! Two minutes late and you have not texted me to let me know of your whereabouts at all times. You know the rule. Turn around. I want to see your round and perfect backyard playground before I add some parking stripes on your lovely landscaping.” Ana begins a soft swing into position and then abruptly turns, showing him her freshly-painted, ample lips. Teasingly, she pops a cherry into her mouth and holds it gently between her teeth. The cherries appear out of nowhere but that’s okay because too much exposition ruins the writing moment. She flicks her tongue on both sides of the cherry, taking care to keep the sexy drool that has collected from running down her chin. She speaks around the cherry, “Oood ooo ike ooo ite is airy rom eye ipps, Isser A?” (must read that out loud phonetically to get the gist) A bit more drool collects at the corner of her mouth. He lunges at her and tips her backwards across the arm of the sofa. Gently, he lowers her to the cushions and begins to lick the juices that are now flowing freely. She wiggles and bucks as he concentrates his efforts on the little dippy spot at the head of her cherry. He licks and licks until she cannot contain her joy any longer. With one gasping bite, the cherry explodes. He continues to dig for the center, more fervently and with soft nips at the edges of her full and wanting lips that seem to pulse with their redness. He pulls the cherry into his mouth and swallows it all. And then, Christian smiles with delight. Ana rises from the sofa, flushed and breathing hard. She purrs, “Five servings a day, Mr. Grey. For your health.” My inner goddess is going to watch the History Channel to see if that myth about George Washington and that cherry tree is really true.
Humma! That was a humma! Like I said earlier, I just sit down and let the words fly out of my mind. I never know where it’s going to take me. If you are game to have your photo the subject of such smut, send it over!