The Longest Year

As if it hadn’t been long enough already, 2008 will be the longest year for a long time. Not content with having an extra day on the 29th February, it will also have an extra second tacked on to it just on the stroke of midnight. This is to do with the two principal methods of measuring time accurately. One method measures the vibrations of the caesium atom (The ‘atomic clock’) while the other involves dividing one rotation of the earth into 86,400 seconds. The trouble is that, whereas the vibrations of the caesium atom at a constant temperature never vary, the rotation of the earth is slowing down gradually, causing the two systems to get out of synch. Therefore the extra ‘leap-second’ every five years or so to allow the earth to catch up with atomic time.

So, just when we are about to heave a big sigh and say goodbye to the Annus Horribilis that was 2008, we have to hold our breath for just one second longer.

We’re looking forward to 2009 with all the challenges it brings. For a start I hope to be posting on a slightly less sporadic basis than has been the norm of late. It’s not that there’s any shortage of things to write about, its just finding the time to get them written down.

This will probably be the last post for 2008, as we are planning to see the New Year in with a bang(!) so Heather and I would like to wish everybody who might read this a happy, healthy and, despite all the gloomy predictions, a prosperous New Year in 2009.

Hope your New Year starts with a bang as well!

Sugasm #155

The best of this week’s blogs by the bloggers who blog them. Highlighting the top 3 posts as chosen by Sugasm participants. Want in Sugasm #156? Submit a link to your best post of the week by emailing me directly at radicalvixenatgmaildotcom Participants, repost the link list within a week and you’re all set.

This Week’s Picks
I’m kind of … insatiable.“She’s gasping already. Each breath a moan, each touch connected to the noises she makes.”

The most spankable day of the year“And for spankos, they are a high holy day to be approached with all the reverence and gaiety of a Pagan-cum Christian holiday.”

Private club“It’s that kind of club - the kind you have to know about, the kind that doesn’t even have a name.”

Sugasm Editor
Sex Work And Honesty: Being Childfree

Editor’s Choice
I Wonder

More SugasmJoin the Sugasm
See also: Fleshbot’s Sex Blog Roundup each Tuesday and Friday.

Thoughts on Sex and Relationships
Autobiography of a Masturbator: Porn O’Graphicus, Part 5
Believing the Bullshit. Confession #202
Good Girl
Performance pressure
The Truth is, I’m Lonely

NSFW Pics, Videos & Audio
Angel Dark & Tereza Ilova - Close Friends
HNT: Tie
Purple Passion
Sibelle - Toyed
Vintage Kink Wednesday
What Santa Sees Through My Window….

Sex Work
High Heel Sucking and Dripping Dicks
Sex work and the right to choose

Sex Humor
Monday Mirage: Hundred Orgasm Woods
Who’s Your Daddy? Vader vs. Joker
WTF To Do With a Botched Trim Job

BDSM & Fetish
A Boy and his Sleepsack
Call my name
Feast
I smell like sex
My First Over-The-Knee Spanking
The only DIY Leather Hood on the net
Sex Life Snapshot
Tie Me to the Ends of Love, Part 3

Sex News, Reviews, & Interviews
12 Days of Christmas Sex Toys List
Beautiful Blonde Bondage Model Dia Zerva Endures Her Most Intense And Brutal Impact Play Scene Of Her Career
Bondage Model Christina Carter And Master Rigger Lochai In An Erotic Dance Of D/s on Hogtied
Fetish Pinup - Bettie Page dead at 85
Fresh Of The Presses, The Orgasm Bar 8 On DVD.
Fucking on Flickr
Hot Erotic Holiday E-books
On The 12th Day of Christmas: We-Vibe
Tribute to Bettie Page: Queen of Kink
Women In The Industry

Erotic Writing and Experiences
Almond’s Joy
Astrid, your mouth fucked my cock.
Casual Poetry
Headhunter
I Hurt
Mesmerizing Love
She Walks in Beauty Like the Night…
VIP anal, threesome, ATM
Windows

A Christmas Story

Like many pub landlords, Harry, who was guv’nor of my one-time local ‘The Old Goat And Terrapin’, had a reputation for being gruff and even downright rude. Her certainly stood for no nonsense in his pub. But I knew another side to him, which showed that deep down, his heart was in the right place and that at Christmas time even he was capable of a simple act of charity.

Nobody was supposed to know about this, Harry was never one to blow his own trumpet and it would have ruined his reputation as a landlord to be reckoned with if it were ever to come out, but I know for a fact that every year at Christmas time he would choose one of his regulars who was down on his luck. Maybe one who had been laid off from work, or where there was another mouth to feed in the family, or who had just fallen on hard times and, for one evening only, without making a big fuss or telling anybody he would…











…Give them the right change!


Happy Christmas everybody!

Fuc-King-Hell

I’m knackered, shagged, finished. Financial crisis or not, we have just had the largest turnover in a day that we have ever had, following on after yesterday where we had the largest number of customers in a single day ever. They were nearly all purchasing Christmas gifts and they all needed to be gift wrapped (the purchases, that is, not the customers). I’ve had it with gift wrapping for this year. The family can all get their presents in brown paper bags. When we finally closed for the Christmas break at 7pm, Heather told me to go upstairs and start recording the news on TV while she added up the till. She came up a little later with a corkscrew and a couple of glasses so that we could indulge in something we have been denying ourselves for the last couple of weeks, a good bottle of red wine shared between us. Later on maybe we’ll get to share another thing we have been abstaining from recently: A good hard shag. OK, before Heather reads this and puts me right, we did have a Fakta Fuck last night. At 2am, after a lot of fiddling and groping she got up on all fours and almost demanded I stuck my cock in her. Hopefully tonight, if we’re not too drunk, we’ll make a little more out of it. That’s a big ‘if’ by the way because we’re well on the way to gloriously drunk already. Especially Heather, who has drunk two glasses for every one of mine. You can tell she’s well on the way because I told her of an old lady I saw in the shop today. She wanted to buy a gift voucher as a present for a grandchild or someone and as she counted out the coins out of her purse she told me how she had been saving up to buy it. I was telling Heather how I took extra care to wrap it up nicely for her and the soppy old thing burst into tears. She is determined to get pissed tonight just because she can. Because we can have a lie-in tomorrow for the first time in a fortnight, because we can fuck each other’s brains out and take our sweet time about it, we can go to bed late, walk around the house naked, run with scissors or do whatever the bloody well else we choose to do because for the next five glorious days we are not answerable to anybody, we don’t have to talk to anybody or even see anybody we don’t want to.

I LOVE Christmas!

Christmas Meme

I pinched this seasonal meme from Trixie

Egg Nog or Hot Chocolate?

Chocolate every time. Egg nog isn’t really a Brit tradition although when I was a kid and we’d visit my grandparents for Christmas we’d be offered a ‘snowball’, a vile concoction of Advocaat and lemonade which we’d drink because it made us feel grown up. I’m not sure whether the other type of ‘snowball’ wouldn’t have tasted better!


Does Santa wrap presents or set them under the tree?

Both! The tradition over here is that the tree isn’t decorated until Christmas eve. This is the time when the whole family gathers for the big dinner in the evening. After the meal, everyone is sent out of the room, and Santa leaves the presents under the tree before turning on the tree lights, turning off all the others, ringing a little bell and then legging it pretty quick before the children find him there. Strangely enough, there is always one senior member of the family who gets called away on urgent business just about the time Santa arrives.


Coloured lights on tree or white?

Plain white. I was brought up with coloured lights on the tree but plain white is the Danish tradition. Some families even still have real candles in specially-weighted holders, which explains the rise in the number of house-fires in December.


When do you put your decorations up?

We start on the first Sunday in Advent and carry on, time permitting, right up until Christmas eve.


What is your favorite holiday dish (excluding dessert)?

The traditional Danish Christmas dinner: Roast duck stuffed with prunes and apples, roast pork with cloves stuck in the crackling, caramel potatoes, red cabbage, roast potatoes and, yes, BRUSSELS SPROUTS! (Note to Trixie: If you don’t want yours, send them to me!)


Favorite Holiday memory as a child:

Walking back from church after midnight mass on a biting cold frosty night and having hot soup and sausage rolls before going to bed and waking up to Christmas morning

When and how did you learn the truth about Santa?

Can’t remember. I’ve always been a pragmatist, so I played along with the whole Santa thing long after I twigged, for my parent’s sake.


Do you open a gift on Christmas Eve?

We open ALL our gifts on Christmas eve. See above.


How do you decorate your Christmas tree?

Good question, because that’s what I’m going to do as soon as I’ve finished this. Normally the answer would be ‘I let the kids do it’ but as they are currently the other side of the globe and tucked up with their girlfriend respectively it’s down to me. Lights first, balls, nisser, tinsel, little etched brass snowflakes and such. Strings of little wrapped presents. Last of all the tree is covered with string upon string of Danish flags



Snow! Love it or Dread it?

Love snow! For the first few days at least. It gets a bit tedious after it turns brown and slushy


Can you ice skate?

I skate as well as I ski; i.e badly, but I haven’t broken any bones yet.



Do you remember your favourite gift?

My Mum bought me my first guitar when I was about 14. I still have it. Then Heather bought me an even better one a few Christmases back.


What is your favorite Holiday Dessert?

Over here we have a sort of very creamy rice pudding served with hot cherry sauce. It is filled with chopped almonds, plus just one whole almond. The person that gets the almond wins a prize.


What is your favorite tradition?

I like a good old traditional carol service.


Which do you prefer, Giving or Receiving?


Giving



What is your favorite Christmas Song?

There are very many wonderful Christmas melodies which mean a great deal to me, but this one in particular has a place very close to my heart…


Candy Canes! Yuck or Yum?

Yuck.


Ever recycled a Christmas present?

Guilty


What are you doing this Christmas?

Christmas eve is a public holiday, so we’re not working. After wrapping the last presents and, hopefully, getting in a little bit of ‘us’ time, we’re hoping to go to the church service at 3 o’clock before driving to Heather’s brother for dinner and presents. The in-laws and Heather’s other brother will be there as well. We’ll drive back home afterwards and Christmas day we’ll spend at home, relaxing. Just this evening, Heather asked son and self what we wanted to eat on Christmas day and the answers were variously: Beer, crisps, mince pies, Quality Street, sausage rolls, beer, penguin biscuits, more beer , cider, more crisps, rice pudding, more cider, more beer , even more crisps, Christmas cake, more beer, Baileys on the rocks, more Quality Street, peanuts, Pringles, more beer.

Boxing day we’re invited to Heather’s parents, as usual, for cold leftovers. And beer.

WWW: We have a Worthy Winner!

The winner of this week's Wednesday's Weird Word is Expateek, (Welcome here, by the way). With her knowledge of Afrikaans(!!?) she was able to work out that all three suggestions were correct...Devious, huh?

As for the first two, she is absolutely correct and explains it so much more eloquently than I could. Skat means treasure, it is also a term of endearment. Heather and I call each other 'Min skat' (My treasure) at least ten times a day. I know, reach for the sick bag!

As for option c, I was being really fiendish and devious. Skat also means something unpleasant that you'd rather not think about, but not THAT. Not in Danish at any rate.

Skat in Danish also means.....TAX!!!!!! Something we'd all rather not think about, especially with a VAT rate of 25% on ALL purchases, no exemptions, and a 50% basic rate.

To paraphrase Browning:

Oh, to be in England, now that Gordon Brown has cut VAT to 15%



As for the runners-up:

Mr MD, I thought a ska was a cable you plugged into the back of your television.

Trixie: If you use this term over here, you're likely to get a big sloppy kiss! (I can't be held responsible for the consequences if you use it in UK, though)

Sigga: Right, but only partly rght!

Pulling A Christmas Cracker

Son was at a Christmas dinner with the fellow students the other night. Well, that was what he told us. In reality it was a 'bring your own jar of pickled herring and ryebread' sort of thing at the flat of one of the other students, followed by a lad’s only pub-crawl round some of the less salubrious bars in town.

Now Son has never had any difficulty at all in attracting female attention. All through school he has had girls vying for his attention. I have no idea what it is about him, if I did I would bottle it and sell it and get rich enough to retire, but in one particular pub they visited he and his mates were surrounded by girls, all wanting to get to know them better…

Now, had he mentioned where they were going I could have told him that the establishment in question has a certain…ahem…reputation. Actually there is no ‘ahem’ about it. It is a knocking shop, pure and simple, and proud of it. How do I know? I hear you ask. Well, I have it on good authority from my father in law (apparently he also enjoyed a mis-spent youth!).

Now Son, for all his twenty years and probably nearly as many women, is still a little naïve in the ways of the world. He really thought that it was his and his mates’ magnetic charm that was attracting these lovelies to their tables, and causing them to show such interest in them. It was only when one of his mates leaned over from the other table and whispered to him “Do you think 1500 crowns is too much?” and he replied “Too much for what?” that the penny finally dropped. It was about that time also that the girls realised that they were dealing with a group of impoverished student teachers out on the piss and drifted away as silently as the dew vanishes from the grass under the first rays of the morning sun. Away to try and find a visiting sales rep on expenses or some such to buy them their overpriced champagne.

For all that he is a young adult now, I find it rather endearing that he is still not completely wise in the ways of the world. You don’t want your kids to grow up too fast.

Work Hard/Play Hard

Have you ever stood, fuming and impatient, waiting to pay for that perfect Christmas gift you have at last found, standing in a seemingly unending queue of shoppers and getting hotter by the minute because you’ve got your heavy winter coat on and the temperature in the shop is equivalent to a hot summers day? Of course you have, but spare a thought for the poor fool on the other side of the counter, faced with a sea of expressionless faces, having to answer unanswerable enquiries, trying to advise husbands on what size ring their wife is likely to take and dealing with the credit card machine when it suddenly locks up in mid-transaction. And everything, even down to the cheapest pair of earrings, has to be gift wrapped. It’s fiddly, it’s time-consuming, it’s not cost-effective but people over here expect it and it’s really rather nice in its way. There is some satisfaction in taking a cheap present and wrapping it so that it looks like a million dollars. Yes, it’s Christmas time again and, despite the press campaign to talk up the financial crisis, people still seem willing to spend their money with us.







Whether it's a genuine diamond or just cheap bling, there's satisfaction in wrapping a customer's purchases properly.



Not that I’m complaining of course, but when you’re on your feet pretty much all day from 9.30 to 5.30 (7pm as of tomorrow, plus Saturday and Sunday) with a continuous flow of customers all day long then you end up pretty knackered by the end of the day and that rather takes its toll on anything else you might want to do with your life in what is laughingly known as your free time. All the admin jobs which we can normally get sorted during lulls in the fighting during opening hours have to be pushed back into the evening when we can work undisturbed. This has a knock-on effect on anything else we might otherwise be doing in the evening. Yes, THAT included. I observed to Heather the other night that in the two weeks leading up to Christmas we never ever got sex. She was a bit offended, but it is absolutely true. By Christmas night I am well and truly in the throes of blue ball syndrome.

It takes its toll on blogging as well. Both writing the stuff I am longing to put down, and reading (or, more to the point, not reading) my favourite blogs. As a case in point, I am currently writing this at 2.15 a.m. Heather has just gone up to get ready for bed, having finished the outstanding ordering for the day, the last of the parcels of presents to be sent by post have been wrapped, ready to got to the post office tomorrow and tomorrow night we’ll tackle the remaining cards.

If this sounds like a prolonged whinge, then thanks for sticking with it so far. The juicy bit is just coming up!

Friday night: With Son was staying over at his gf, we had the house to ourselves. Despite having a million things we needed to do we felt we owed it to ourselves to get to bed early and have some heavy-duty relaxation. When I got into the bedroom, Heather was already lying on the bed, stark naked, arms outstretched, legs drawn up and gaping. It couldn’t have been more obvious what she wanted had she written ‘Lick Me’ in red lipstick across her stomach. I was only too glad to nestle my head on her soft fragrant mat of pubic hair and take her fleshy labia between my lips, seeking out her clit with my tongue, or dipping it into her growing wetness.

For her part, Heather took my cock in her skilful grasp and scratched her fingernails up and down the underside of my scrotum and my perineum, sending shudders of pleasure coursing through me.

“I think I’ll have to get you some of those radio-controlled love eggs” I said. “Then I’d have you wear them all day and turn them on just when you least expected it”

“The trouble with things like that” She replied. “Is keeping them in all day. I’ve got no problems with butt-plugs but those eggs just keep popping out.”

Then she added “You couldn’t even get a butt plug in, let alone keep it there”.

On past experience this is quite true, but suddenly I was wanting to give it another try. I sat up and reached over for the njoy which is on permanent standby beside the bed. I gave it a squeeze of lube (ditto) and handed it to Heather.

What am I supposed to do with this?” she asked.

“See if you can get it in”

“What, in you? Never. You’re a big softie, you’d never stand it”.

“Try me”.

And try me she did.

And take it, I did.

The most disconcerting thing was not knowing how far in the thing was. I had heard stories about obtaining an instant orgasm the moment it touched the ‘p’ spot. That didn’t happen, but it was a pleasant sensation. Unnervingly so.

We tried to push our back ends together so as to share the thing, but the s-shape of the njoy rather precludes this. We must have looked a pretty bizarre sight tying to get ourselves into a suitable position. In the end I settled for some good old fashioned fucking with her ankles up behind my ears and the heavy njoy bobbing up and down in my backside like an obscene stainless steel tail and heightening my pleasure.

With Heather still on her back and legs in the air, I gently lubed her up and then plundered her tight little arsehole, bringing her close -so tantalisingly close- to orgasm before filling her guts with my semen. Now that was a new experience, fucking her arse while being, at least in simulation, arse fucked myself. Why should gay guys have all the fun?

After all that, I’m rather afraid that all we’re going to have time for between now and Christmas day is a hurriedly-snatched Fakta Fuck, if we’re lucky. And posts might be a bit thin on the ground, too. Still, we’re only working a couple of half-days between Christmas and New Year so we should be able to do a bit of catching up then.

Wednesday's Weird Word

It’s time for another weird word from my crazy world.

Today’s word is

******SKAT******

Now whatever can that mean? Go on…have a guess.

Just to make it a bit easier, I’ll give you three alternatives:

Is it:

a) Treasure?

b) A term of endearment?

c) Something very unpleasant you’d rather not think about?

As usual, an honorary mention for the most imaginative answer.

Update:

After last week's WWW, Suze asked me for a better picture of our little nisse. Well, anything for a regular reader. Here it is. They are made by a local artist and there is a new one every year. This year it is a schoolteacher nisse, which is sort of appropriate as Son is now at teacher-training college.

Sugasm #154

The best of this week’s blogs by the bloggers who blog them. Highlighting the top 3 posts as chosen by Sugasm participants. Want in Sugasm #155? Submit a link to your best post of the week by emailing me directly at radicalvixenatgmaildotcom Participants, repost the link list within a week and you’re all set.

This Week’s Picks
Watching“My heart raced as I watched him stare at me, wondering if he knew I was awake. ”

Hot and Handy Part 2: Handjobs for the Ladies in Our Lives“Getting her wet has two big benefits when it comes to getting her off.”

Sales Report“I’m the only woman in the room.”

Sugasm Editor
Sex Work And Compassion: Death In A Client’s Family

Editor’s Choice
Crying

More SugasmJoin the Sugasm

See also: Fleshbot’s Sex Blog Roundup each Tuesday and Friday.

Sex News, Reviews, & Interviews
Does Legislation affect Porn Fetishes?
Kinklab Vampire Gloves
Lusty Lady Seattle
On The 1st Day of Christmas: Tracey Cox Supersex Bullet Vibrator
Pleasurists #6
Review: Mo’s Sexy Black & Pink Box!
Sex Tips for Husbands and Wives from 1894: Another Internet Hoax?

Sex Advice
Advice: I Fucked His Best Friend
Q&A: Humiliation
What Should a Girl with a Boyfriend Do About Her Lesbo Longings? You Decide

Erotic Writing and Experiences
Appetizer
AudioErotic – It Never Hurts to Ask
Back to basics
Brush Strokes
Camera Shy, Part 1
Chapter 2
Condom-less
Dreamweaver
Not a real lap dance
Police Officer Fantasy
Razorblade Dreams
Salty sweet
A Welcome Home

Sex Work
A Picture of a Caller in Pantyhose
Another Cockteasing HHNT
Humiliation From My Cell Phone

BDSM & Fetish
Breaking you
Latest Gifts from brock
Limits
More on Baltimore
Rough Beating
Teased and Tortured

Thoughts on Sex and Relationships
Ask Miss Bliss
Better Barebacking for Bloggers
Melt
An Oral Confession
Poly Perfect. Confession #186
Untitled
What’s it Really Like To Work for FetLife
Who Need Latex Fetish Briefs When You Can Get These?

NSFW Pics, Videos & Audio
Andie Valentino removes her pink top to reveal her lovely naturals
Catalina loves Sunday Sin
Femme Fatale (part III)
Just a Little Something
Red Rose of love

Urtepotteskjuler!

Here is the answer to Wednesday's Weird Word

Urt=plant

Potte=Pot

Skjule=To hide



i.e. it is one of these:







A plant pot holder, or pot to put plant pots in. In this case, a pot of heather (naturally). Note the nisse next to it. They get everywhere at this time of year.


Congratulations to Nitebyrd on getting that it was some kind of a pot, and to Trixie for making me laugh with her answer.

HNT: Tie

Never let it be said that Heather doesn't know how to dress for an occasion. I think the red tie just completes the ensemble.

Happy HNT everyone!

WWW: Wednesday's Weird Word-2

Today's word is a particular favourite of mine. I just wish I had more opportunities to use it, it just sounds so funny when you say it.


******URTEPOTTESKJULER******

Now what on earth is one of those?

It's something you might give to a distant relative or not-particularly-close friend as a Christmas preent.

Any Ideas? Inspired guesses?

A Kiss Is Just A Kiss

It was somewhat of a cold weekend, and not just weatherwise either. There was coldness inside the house as well. Whether we were both on edge and stressed out after a busy week, or we let other things get in the way it’s hard to tell, but the sex just didn’t happen. Most farcical of all, on Sunday night, in bed at somewhat after 1 am, having decided it was too late to have sex, we spent an hour sniping at each other about exactly why we hadn’t had any over the weekend when we could have spent the time having sex in any case.

On Monday I was still determined to be pissed off, but by the evening had mellowed a little. I was sitting in the living room watching ‘The Tudors’ when Heather came in with a cup of tea. She set it down, leaned over me where I sat in the armchair and gave me a chaste little kiss on the mouth.

It was like a revelation. I couldn’t explain why at the time, but it felt like she was kissing me for the first time. Her lips felt so sweet and firm, yet yielding. I imagined them to be just like the segments of satsuma she likes to eat while we watch TV. I wanted more. I pulled her gently towards me again and felt her lips on mine once more. I held her to me as I took those lips between mine, gently pulling at them. No thrusting of tongues, just a gentle nibbling of lips. In the space of five minutes the icy atmosphere between us had been well and truly broken and I was left only with the regret of a weekend of wasted opportunities, but with the promise of an early night…

Why was it so different, that kiss? Was it simply longing because, through our stubbornness we had assiduously avoided any contact between us for the last couple of days? Then I realised, and it was something of a shock.

After I was compelled to shave my beard off a couple of weeks ago, Heather decided I looked daft with just the moustache. It was taking me back to the look I had circa 1978 and it didn’t look good even then. So I eventually succumbed and shaved that off last week as well. For the first time in almost 30 years Heather gets to snog a bloke without having to contend with a whole lot of facial hair. She’d never minded it before, or at least never complained, but recently she had noticed that the hair was getting a good deal stiffer and more bristly. Old age I suppose. So kissing a clean-shaven husband has been a pleasant change for her. I didn’t realise that it would feel different for me, too. It feels good when she runs her hand across the (relatively) smooth skin from my cheek to my chin and I now realise that I can feel her lips all the more while kissing her, now that my top lip is not covered with a fringe of hair. Not only that; everyone I have met tells me how it makes me look younger (of course, any younger-looking and I could have difficulty being served in bars!)

It means an extra five minutes in the morning to shave regularly, it means having to remember to pack a shaver when we go away, Daughter is going to have a fit when we see her again as she’s never seen me without, but on the strength of that kiss I had last night it will all be worth it.

I tasted paradise on her lips last night and there’s no going back now.

What's Your Favourite Ice Cream?

Vanilla, maybe, or raspberry ripple? Neapolitan (what I always used to call ’Metropolitan’) ?

Any chance you’d be tempted by these ice creams which I saw in our local supermarket today?



Call me unadventurous, but I have very little desire to eat an ice cream called ‘Pong’

They are marketed by this country’s equivalent of ‘Weightwatchers’ Perhaps the idea is to give them a repellent name so that you end up not eating them and thereby not putting on weight…Brilliant!

Friday Ferrari Funny

Son to father:
”Dad, is a Ferrari a red car with a small horse?”


Father:
“That’s right, but why do you ask?”


Son: "I think there’s one trying to pass us on the right…”

(Scroll down...)

WWW: Answers

I won't keep the suspense going any more. Here is the answer to Wednesday's Weird Word.

So what does the word ’Luftpudefartøj’ mean?

Inflatable clothing?...Close

A big red fire engine?...Not bad

Here’s the explanation:

Luft means Air

Pude means Cushion (NOT Poo, thank you Trixie)

Fartøj means Vehicle.

It’s one of these:


A Hovercraft

Closest was the anonymous Sigga, who only mistook Tøj (=clothing) for Fartøj (=vehicle) but thanks to everybody who had a go.

I’ll have a new one for next week. In the meantime, if anyone knows the Danish word for ‘Doggy-style’ or would care to make one up, then let me know!

HNT: Imagine No More

I first pictured this boot, empty, back in March of last year. At the time I couldn't imagine I would ever be able to publish a photo of Heather wearing it. As it is, she chose what she wanted to wear for our last photo session and by happy chance she picked her favourite red 'fuck-me' boots. For Alfie and Emma, and Suze especially, I hope it has been worth the wait.



Happy Half-Nekkid Thursday everyone!



(P.S. At Trixie's request I wanted to put up a picture of Thomas going into the tunnel, but it was vetoed by the boss!)

WWW-Wednesday's Weird Word

Whenever we have visitors over from the UK, they inevitably discover words in the local lingo that have them either amused or bemused or both. FART is the obvious one. It simply means ‘speed’ over here but causes endless chuckles for our guests. I have lived over here for so long now that I am largely immune to this, but I thought I would introduce some of these weird and wonderful words to a wider public in the form of a competition:

Every Wednesday I will put up a new word. You have to guess what it means. The first person with the right answer, or failing that a suitably imaginative, bizarre or just plain silly answer, will be will be honoured with a mention.

You are honour bound not to use Google or similar search engines. (Actually, while doing a bit of research for this I did Google one of the words I had in mind and came across a link referring to the ‘Hungarian Phrase Book’ sketch from Monty Python. Not much help to anyone, but quite amusing).



Native speakers are not eligible. That would just be too easy.

So. This week’s word is:

*****Luftpudefartøj*****

Any ideas?

Harrassment In The Workplace

The other day I was lamenting the fact that I never had the opportunity to exchange raunchy texts with Heather because we are seldom more than a few feet from each other.

I shouldn’t really complain. Sometimes, during work hours, we might end up not even a few inches from each other. Far from putting a strain on our relationship, working together can also combine the maximum of temptation with the maximum of opportunity, to paraphrase George Bernard Shaw. I can do things in the workplace (discreetly, of course and only with Heather) that would have me out on my ear for sexual harassment under any other circumstances.

Heather was leaning over the desk the other morning, for example, looking up something quickly on the screen and not bothering to sit down to do it. I came up behind her, clasped her round the middle and made vigorous pumping motions with my groin into her behind, while keeping a look out for any members of staff who might be nearby. She giggled like a schoolgirl and squirmed, and that only encouraged me to bend over her and grab her tits, nuzzling the back of her neck.

During the day, when we pass each other, a straying hand will brush longingly against her bottom, or if I’m lucky I can cop a quick feel of her tits when nobody’s looking and it isn’t all one-sided either. Heather can certainly find it in herself to come up behind me while I’m sitting in the office and rub her breasts against my neck. I do have to be a little careful though. As I have mentioned before, Dot, our part-time assistant is about the same height and build as Heather with the same hair colour, they are quite easy to mistake each for other from behind. On more than one occasion I have just managed to stop myself in time before laying my grubby mitts on her. If I tried that then all hell would break loose. Never mind being sued for harassment, I would probably end up face-down on the floor with my arms pinned up behind my back before the entire weight of her Union was brought down on me like a ton of bricks.

I’m sure that someone is going to ask, so I’ll answer now to save time: No Heather and I have never sneaked off upstairs during working hours for a quick fuck. Tempting though the idea is, we’d be missed in no time, and it would just be too obvious, us both disappearing and then reappearing a while later with stupid grins on our faces.

There are some perks to being the boss, but there are also limits.

After All, I Am The Fat Controller

At last it can be revealed: What I’ve been up to in my spare time. (Yes, yes. Apart from THAT!)

Every year, as part of our Christmas window display we have a working model railway. The first Christmas we had the business, our window dresser let us down at the last minute, so we had to think of something eyecatching pretty quickly. I had a portable model railway I had built for Son’s school fête some years previously so I hauled that out of the loft, tarted it up and we stuck it in the window. It was such a success that next year, people were already asking in November if there would be a railway in the window again for Christmas.

Since the rebuilding of our business premises we have more, and smaller, windows so I had to radically rethink the design this year. I had to cram as much interest into as possible into a confined space. I think a viaduct, two mountains, two bridges, a river, four tunnels, a forest, a herd of deer and two trains moving all the time is not bad going for a space of 3 foot 9” by 1 foot 9”.

I’ve spent a few late nights building it and caused Heather a certain amount of despair with all the mess and disruption but when you see the looks on the kiddie’s faces when they stop and look in the window it makes it all worth while, although I have heard the odd frustrated parent saying “ Come ALONG now, it’ll still be there tomorrow!” while pulling on a reluctant little arm.

The Thomas and James locos I ordered over the net from UK. I just couldn’t resist them and I think they’re the icing on the cake.

After all, I am the Fat Controller.