...writing dirty.

Do you have a fantasy? Can I write about it and and post it here in my blog?

Let me know and I'll see if it gets my creative juices oozing.

LL x

My bike has broken so I get the tube into central London instead.

It's one of those underground journeys which take an age with the driver stopping and starting between stations so I reach for the newspaper on the seat beside me. There's always one hanging around, isn't there?

There are a couple of blokes in the carriage and a woman using a small mirror to apply lipstick, a skilful trick and such a private thing to do in public. It's like you're getting a glimpse into the bedroom, I think.

The sight of her lips moving beneath the deep red stick and the motion of the train conspire and give my dick a pleasant weightiness as it rubs against my button fly. I try and distract myself by reading yesterday's news.

We pull into a stop and the carriage empties leaving me alone for a moment so I take the chance to adjust my penis in my jeans.

I hear a polite cough, look up and see you sitting down opposite me; all short skirt and legs. I catch your eyes and blush as a smile kinks your mouth.

'It's hot in here,' I mumble.

My cock is twitching now so I hold the paper in front of me to hide my growing embarrassment. The train pulls off but jerks to a halt as soon as it enters the tunnel. We roll our eyes at each other.

'Has it been doing this the whole way?' you ask and seem to smile at my nod.

I try to read again but there's something about you which demands some attention. It's that short skirt of yours and those legs which, now that I look more closely, I see are parted slightly.

Christ, if I were to sink down into my seat a little then I might even get a glimpse.

I'm aware suddenly that I'm staring and I move my eyes to your face to make sure you haven't noticed. So it's a jolt when I see you looking directly back at me, your cheeks flushed and lips moist.

The unblinking eye of the security camera gazes on the scene and then something incredible happens.

Without taking your eyes from mine you lift and spread your legs and place a heel onto the edge of the seat next to you so your mons pushes wetly against the stretched fabric of your panties. With one hand you grab and pull your knickers aside.

And there it is: your naked pussy, exposed, trimmed and pink.

I stiffen immediately, straining against my jeans. My mouth is too dry for me to say anything and you don't say a word either.

Instead you take your index finger and draw it from your arse to your clit in one slow slide along your slick slit. I can't take my eyes from you as you slip it inside still staring intently at me.

Nothing like this has ever happened before and I've never been this hard in my life. It's painful and I have to do something about it so I pop my button fly and release my cock behind the newspaper.

With a jerk, the train starts to move.

You let out a low moan, rubbing yourself.

I grip my shaft. This isn't going to take very long.

We pick up speed, you so wet, me so hard and the train hurtling towards the next stop.

'You dirty bitch.'

'Just cum, you bastard,' you reply.

So I do, with a hard splatter against the newspaper.

A moan escapes your lips.

We've done it. We're done.

The train slows towards the station and you straighten your skirt as you stand. You look at my penis which is softer now but pulsing and dribbling spunk onto my hand. You smile, I sweat.

The train stops, the doors open and you get off...

A great version of your unofficial national anthem...

[url]http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=6dtYbl6E5xQ[/url]

Years ago when I was at Uni I went out with an Indian girl who shared a flat with a couple of posh and painfully right on fellow students.

Gopi's parents were doctors from Goa which happens to be a tourist destination. I was the only one who'd never been to India.

One time Gopi was telling us about the street she'd grown up in when one of these right on students cut across her and said without winking: 'Of course, Gopi doesn't know the real India.'

It still makes me shake my head and laugh when I think of it and it reminds me of some of the idiot comments made during the US presidential election about 'real' and by process of elimination 'fake' America.

So I finally stuck up some nn stamped shots just to show I'm really me if anyone doubted it. Now I shall be able to post SIX pics a day if I'm ever that imaginative. Suggestions welcomed and I'm also wondering...how long did it take you to get your shield after posting verification pics?

Laters!

Somewhere on the last page of this blog I talked about the idea of an NN bookclub and there was some interest in it.

I will post a thread in general discussion with the link to the story and anyone who wants to can read it and say anything they like about. Thought it would be an intelligent alternative to some of the incessant political debate.

First I thought I would post here about it.

I found a short story called 'Beginners' on the internet and thought it would be a good one to read. It is by Raymond Carver and is his original unedited version of a story later published as 'What We Talk About (When We talk About Love).' What do you think of it as a Book Club subject? Let me know below.

Here's the link: [url]http://www.newyorker.com/fiction/features/2007/12/24/071224fi_fiction_carver?currentPage=1[/url]

Two couples are drinking gin and tonics as the evening draws in and talking about 'love'. What is it?

Cheers,

LL x

This video was filmed round the back entries where I grew up.

[url]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FvPm0-tIQk0&feature=rec-fresh[/url]

The band themselves were the first I saw live in the mid-80s. The song is about addiction and the 'she' of the title can be taken as either a girl or heroin, both of which were being chased at that time in my neck of the woods.

It's a beautiful song and many will sing along without recognising the meaning.

----------------------------------------------------------------

Gave my witness statement to the police today. Inquest later this week.

Her door was ajar and had been for hours. I knocked on it, there was no answer so I pushed and stuck my head inside.

I saw the body at once and called 999. She looked dead but the emergency service telephone operator talked me through a recusitation attempt.

She was frail, middle-aged; her life had delivered one too many blows and she was unable to look after herself. She was a heavy drinker. The flat was a filthy mess.

The paramedics confirmed she'd died hours before and the police sealed off the area. Today they said they think she died of natural causes.

She had no family that anyone knows of and just about no-one to mourn her.

[img]http://www.nparks.gov.sg/blogs/garden_voices/wp-content/2008/04/hannah-the-himalayan-lilies-2.JPG[/img]

RIP

[url]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bu6OmKea1rU&feature=related[/url]

They have been full on disturbing.

But now I have put some pics up am feeling horny and trying to forget.

Love to all x