Internet FU

K. Dex Gabriel says:

I'm horribly sorry I've been so remiss in getting back to you on this: apparently my internet-fu is lacking. I'd set up a forward on this mail box that...didn't forward, it seems, and I've only just gotten this ...

Worked out fine for me, because I was so far behind I could see my front! Or something. Anyway, Dex is up (actually, I don't know if Dex is up or not) but the interview with Dex is up at my Trollop Salon.

Go read. You won't be disappointed!

Also, next up on the salon is P.S. Haven the great! And Elise, I swear to god, I'll get you the questions soon!

XXX,
Alison (who is chasing her tail today)

Starstruck

This is a piece that Sophia Valenti fleshed out from an entry she wrote for one of my contests. Fits so nice with the cross-dressing parade, I think. Keep any snips coming—I'm happy to post them here or link back to you!

Starstruck
by Sophia Valenti

I stood in the corner of the club, hidden by smoky shadows and watching Jake as he prowled around the stage. For those few hours, he belonged to the crowd, but after the show—he was mine. That knowledge made it easier to absorb the sight of him singing to and flirting with big-breasted blondes. Those girls thought they had what he wanted, but they couldn’t be more wrong.

Jake wasn’t one for the quick backstage blowjob. The other guys in the band, however, were only too happy to accept these tokens of admiration. And I can hardly blame them. I wouldn’t have turned them down either. No, what my Jake wanted was entirely different.

After the final encore and the bartender’s shout of last call, I took Jake by the hand, leaving his smirking bandmates in our wake. By then they knew the score. They knew what I wanted—and what he needed.

We weaved our way through the crowd and headed out the back door to the club, where we stood in a trash-filled alley which was half-illuminated by moonlight. I shoved Jake up against the brick wall, and he gasped as I tore open his leather pants to reveal the black satin panties that he always wore during his gigs.

I dropped to my knees, mouthing his hard cock through the satin and inhaling the earthy scent of leather and sweat. Jake looked down at me, his wide brown eyes seeming even more pronounced from the eyeliner and mascara that he’d donned for his show. His breath came in irregular gasps as I teased his dick through that slick barrier, not really offering him any relief, but simply making his cock swell and his hunger grow.

I stood and looked him in the eyes—thanks to my four-inch heels we were nearly the same height. I pushed down on his shoulders, and he immediately dropped to his knees. “You know what to do,” I told him, and he wordlessly unzipped my pants. With shaking hands, he parted the denim and pulled out what he’d been waiting for all night: the purple dildo that I’d strapped on before I dressed for the night.

I placed my hands on his faux-hawk, tugging his gel-stiffened hair to bring his face closer to my dick. He eagerly opened his lips and slowly took me in. I rocked my hips back and forth, slowly feeding him more with each thrust and enjoying the sensation of the toy’s base hitting my swollen clit. I was tempted to let him take me all the way as he knelt in the dirt amid the cigarette butts and crushed beer cans, but I had a better plan.

When Jake had gotten the toy slick enough with his own saliva, I pulled him up and made him face the wall, so I could pull his leather pants and satin panties down to his knees. I spit onto my fingers and brought them between his cheeks, teasing his rear hole and making him groan as I stretched him out. When he seemed ready, I slipped the toy between his cheeks and eased it inside his back hole. Jake let out a slow, wordless moan as I penetrated him. As soon as he was used to the sensation, I started fucking him fast and hard. I’d already arranged for the bouncer to ensure that we had total privacy, but Jake didn’t know that. I knew in the back of his head, he was worried one of his groupies might sneak out back for a smoke and see me drilling him from behind. And I knew that fear was turning him on.

The toy was pushing deliciously up against my clit with each inward thrust. I wanted Jake to come as hard as I was going to, so I reached around and started stroking him in time with my bucking hips. I won the race, coming first with a shout, and he soon followed me, decorating the trash at his feet with his release.

After we straightened our clothes, Jake turned around and looked at me. His eye makeup was smeared and a single tear trailed down his cheek, but he had a sublime smile on his face.

I knew right away—that night was in our own personal top ten.

*****

Also, I'm behind on my button-sending and interview-posting. Two fabulous ones to get up on the salon shortly. But for the moment, I need more java. Oh, miss...

XXX,
Alison

Oral Fixation

Oral Fixation

Never mind the screaming girls, he's doing it just to get a rise out of me, I know he is. He's the kind of boy who likes to push buttons, and he knows this is one of my biggest. He wants to make me think about him doing this in an alley instead, the grayed, worn-through knees of his jeans getting gritty on the pavement, blowing some dumb punk kid who thinks his 'hawk and shiny new Docs make him tough shit like it's a favor.

If he can take control he will, but he doesn't want it. Doesn't want to do a favor, doesn't want to have a choice. He's the kind of boy who likes to push, because he wants to find someone who won't take it. He wants the same rush he gets from slamming into fifty other guys in a pit, the heat and sweat and ache of it.

He's the kind of boy who likes to hurt. It's why he's up there treating his mic like it's God's gift to oral fixation, the little cocktease. He wants to act like he's tough shit, too, and he wants to get shoved to his knees and told he's dead fucking wrong. That dirty jeans in a dirtier alley is all he and that pretty mouth of his are good for. Not that he'll ever say it, not a boy like him.

He'll just push, and wait for me to push back.

*****

I'm going to wait until tomorrow to run the poll—as I wanted to spotlight each of the stories ahead of time.

XXX,
Alison

Just for a moment....

...let's all bask in the dark, mesmerizing glow of Tom Waits.

Thanks, Tessa! What a way to wake up!

XXX,
Alison

"Fuck Sightseeing"

RKB's Do Not Disturb just won an ace review over at Hot Movies For Her:

The favorite stories I was referring to earlier explore two very different ways to spend time holed up in a hotel room. The first is Alison Tyler’s “Tightly Tucked,” which extols the virtues of taking full advantage of your vacation and just chilling out – and saying screw it to the partner that won’t let that happen. Who needs her when there is a super sexy housekeeper that’s more than willing to forget about making those hospital corners? Fuck sightseeing.

Read the whole review here!

XXX,
Alison

I Kindled a Girl...

...and I liked it. Actually, I don't own a Kindle. And I don't own anyone who does. So I don't know if I did this correctly. I am hoping I did. I followed all of the directions, but here's the thing—what I saw on screen had glitches in the italics and apostrophes—and yet when I did a test download, everything looked a-okay.

If you do buy Banging Rebecca on Kindle, will you tell me that it works. I don't care if it actually works or not, just tell me it works so I can sleep.

I'm kidding! If you buy BR on Kindle, and if it doesn't work, please let me know! I'll figure out through Amazon how to refund your $$$ and I'll try again. I don't want to put up another collection until I'm sure this one flies.

XXX,
Alison

P.S. Nikki Magennis designed the brand-new cover, based on a fabulous photo by Riendo!

"did someone say cross dressing?"

hi alison

when i hear/read cross dressing, it just sends me scurrying to my archive looking for something just right of my boy in his, i mean my, intimates.

hugs&kisses

wendy

*****

Oh, we're so glad you scurried, Wendy! Scurry some more whenever you have a chance, will ya?

XXX,
Alison

We teased you long enough...

I'm bursting with pride here, I must say. Recently, I got together with four of my favorite writers to put together a book. You know me. I love putting together books. But I don't have the coin right now to publish books. So instead—we put together SLUT, a PDF containing four brand new stories—one each from Kristina Lloyd, Sommer Marsden, Sophia Valenti, and yours truly—and one uber-hot reprint by Rita Winchester (which only appeared previously on a pay-site). Here are the deets:

Sommer Marsden kicks off the anthology with a filthy little cheating story called “This Is How It Starts.” Rita Winchester’s "Nice Guy" isn’t all that nice—but he’s damn good. In Kristina Lloyd's kidnap tale, Tina tells her boyfriend a seedy story of six men in a warehouse. Alison Tyler’s "Gym Rat" is pushed far beyond her boundaries by her personal trainer and her husband. And Sophia Valenti’s old flame sets her lust afire in a private, BDSM party.

SLUT contains five fierce stories from today’s top erotic writers. Users beware, the book contains: bondage, BDSM, spanking, voyeurism, exhibitionism, and a whole lot of fucking. 48 pp.

The five of us worked so well together. Kristina did the cover. Everyone proofed. We exchanged many late-night emails. And we imbibed plenty of beer. All moneys earned will be divided evenly among the authors—for this antho and for all of the future ones I hope to help put together.

If you *do* buy the book, please let us know what you think!

XXX,
Alison

Fetish Friday #10: T is for Transvestites

Let's make one thing clear: I want that bracelet! Damn, is that man hot. I remember my introduction to Tim Curry in Rocky Horror. I was 14. The moment took place at my favorite second-run movie theater. Oh, how I melted into the seat when he appeared on screen. I've dated a few boys who liked to dress as girls—and it's funny because the first time I heard the Kinks' Lola I was at the very same movie theater. (Maybe this is why I was demolished inside when the theater was demolished inside. Now, the exterior remains—sans graffiti—but the interior is a sterile Borders.)

But before I wander off crying into my coffee, let's get the day's lesson started! Transvestites. A quick search shows me that Johnny Depp is one. (Don't get too excited. The same article claims he wants to make a porn video. With Tim Burton.) This article explains that there is no difference between a cross-dresser and a transvestite. While the wiki definition states that the term transvestitism was coined to describe someone sexually aroused by cross-dressing. Finally, according to Eddie Izzard, there is a big difference between weirdo transvestites and executive transvestites.



And according to me—oh, well, I just think there's something really fucking sexy about a man in stockings. Which is probably why I fell all over myself to read Sommer Marsden's delicious new story Girlfriend Wanted:

He turned, back against the concrete wall that ran the length of the alley. “What are you going to do to me, Emily?” There was just enough feminine wiles in that question to set my teeth on edge and my body humming.

“Whatever I want.” And then I kissed him. I held his broad bare shoulders and touched his stubbly throat and kissed him. I could taste the strawberries he had just eaten on his tongue. I hiked his dress up and grabbed his ass. I pulled him flush with me so that the seam of my pussy pressed to the hard line of his cock.

He grabbed my hips and there was some aggression there. Finally. Finally, it might be right. He pulled me harder than I pulled him and he kissed me harder, too. Mitch broke the kiss and ran his tongue down my neck, his teeth raking my skin. I stopped and stared. His rouged face and stained lips and doll-baby hair in a bow. I studied his long eyelashes and fancy eye makeup and then he grinned and his deep voice melted my insides. “I’m going to fuck you now, okay?”

*****

Oh, yes. Very okay.

Jacqueline Applebee's Black Satin Slip first appeared in Frenzy. But it tends to appear over and over again—I flip to this story on repeat:

He says he looks silly in her black satin slip. She thinks he looks strong—the color, the cut of cloth flatters him. She looks him in the eye, and then her hands slowly lower the straps of the slip, one thin black line at a time. His nipples are hard, small, cherry red as she bites. He presses her to him, huffs harsh grunts into her hair.

The black satin slip slithers down, pools around hairless ankles until he steps out of the softness. The gentle garment is smeared with his pre-come —sticky clear salt she can already taste on her lips. When her mouth closes around his cock, all but the last inch of his crimson colored flesh is lost in heat, in wet, in her.

*****

As far as me, well, I'm still lost at midnight movies. My own dabbling in dress-up includes the following Frankenfurter scene from Melt With You:

...in an instant, Van used the fuchsia boa to capture her wrists. Dori grinned at him, feeling silly wrapped up in the boa, but sexy at the same time. The feathers caressed her skin, but when she moved her wrists, bits of marabou fluff rained down on the pink tiled floor.

“You’re mine now, Brad,” Van said, his voice husky, and Dori thought about the one particular scene in the movie where Frankenfurter had his way with both Brad and Janet. She wondered whether Van might be bi. He did seem aroused by the fact that she had on a man’s suit.

“Take down your pants.”

“How can I?” she drawled. “You’ve got me all tied up.” She shook her wrists for emphasis, and more bright pink bits of feathery fluff floated in the air around them.

Van gazed at her, then pulled her off the sink and pressed her up against the Pepto-pink-painted wall. He fumbled around for her belt and then the zipper, slid the pants down around her ankles, and then laughed.

“You even wore men’s drawers.”

“I wanted to be fully in character,” she said, turning her head so that she could smile at him in the mirror. “Didn’t feel right to have on my usual panties.”

“I’m impressed,” he said, “so many people are only in it for the surface. But you went all the way.”

All the way.

Van spun her around so that she was facing him, and then pushed her down to the floor. The bathroom tile was like ice against her bare knees, but she didn’t care. She drew him into her mouth, sucking his cock, loving the way he looked all dolled up as Frankenfurter. There was something deliciously twisted to her about blowing a man who was dressed in ladies’ clothes. Even if he were dressed as a man who was playing a man. For an instant she tried to imagine this same scene with Bryce in Van’s place and almost choked on the giggles that threatened to spill out. Bryce would have been horrified if she’d suggested something as twisted as this. But then she had to stop thinking, had to pay attention, because Van was getting more turned on by the moment. She didn’t want to let him down.

“Oh, god, you’re good,” he crooned at her, running his hands over her hair, finding the ponytail holder and pulling it free. The lines were blurring now. She was dressed in a suit, but with her hair long and loose, she felt like a woman once more. How odd that a simple motion like feeling the wave of her hair flow down her back could undo the magic of her transformation.

But she wasn’t ready for the magic to end.

Not yet.

Dori shut her eyes, paying attention to the way Van’s breathing had speeded up as she worked him, the way his skin smelled of ivory soap and cigarette smoke. And then suddenly he was moving her again. Standing her up and flipping her around, slamming into her as she braced herself with palms flat on the mirror.

She set her face against the glistening glass. Loving the way the silver felt against her hot cheeks. The way Van’s body felt behind her. There was something so unbelievably hot about being taken by a guy wearing lingerie, while she was dressed head-to-toe as a man. Who would have thought?

“You’re the best Brad I ever fucked…” Van whispered darkly to her, and Dori shuddered as she came.

*****

If *you* have cross-dressing experience, please answer Sommer Marsden's ad. I mean, if you have cross-dressing stories, why not send a snip or two to msalisontyler at yahoo dot com, and I can keep the parade going through the weekend!

XXX,
Alison

P.S. If you have a longer piece that you put up on your own blog, let me know and I'll link right to you!

And the Duh Goes to...

... me. I am not on the radio tomorrow night. I'm on the radio next Friday night. I don't know which part I missed. The part that was Friday the 24th. Or the part that was... actually, just duh. I've mentioned previously I am calendar-challenged. Right?

So if you were planning on fiddling with my knobs tomorrow—sorry, buddy. You'll have to wait a week!

XXX,
Alison

"Samba, bossa nova, rock’n’roll"

I’d like to talk about the rhythm of the drums. Repeated, inventive, ever growing stronger. Dirty the way you make it to our enjoyment. The skins seeming to be unique, leaving like an impression you wrote it just for each of us, and each of us alone. Samba, bossa nova, rock’n’roll, the drums that bang Rebecca bang us back. Oh, the sway of your stories.

XXX,
T

*****

I really and truly appreciate these notes. I'm so happy to hear when people like my stories!

XXX,
Alison

P.S. Fabulous image courtesy of Riendo!

What Haven't You Done?

Why? Who wants to know?

XXX,
Alison

P.S. I like the teacher one.

Let's Hear it for the Girls

Which girl were you, and which one did you want to fuck—I mean vote for?

Here are the titles:

Auction
For Herself
Vesti la Giubba
"Throwing in the Towel"
Destiny
Interrupted

Oh, and I'm late with the interviews. Mea culpa! I have one to post, one coming in, and one to send the questions to! Hang in there, everyone! But for this round, let's go with the author of Auction, shall we?

XXX,
Alison

How Long Has It Been...

...since I did a drunken blog? Too fucking long. Yes? But damn, Sommer, it's a squirrel! A drunk squirrel! Oh, god, I have quite clearly had way too much pink wine. (Point and laugh if you must. I can take the heat.)

XXX,
Alison

"I loved Banging Rebecca!"

Sophia Valenti says: "I loved Banging Rebecca! So deliciously dirty..."

*****

This is me. With a 100-watt smile!

XXX,
Alison

about to be devoured...

about to be devoured...

I feel him stalking as I enter from my shower, his eyes feasting upon my flesh, and I start to tease and taunt him. My torment was to entice him, I need to feel his hunger and I know my prancing will push him. What we share is something that is not for the faint of heart, he and I share an undeniable animalistic attraction similar to the lion and its prey.

This time he waited silently by the window watching me, until I eventually I lowered myself onto the edge of the bed. I deliberately soaked my skin slowly with lotion, smirking mentally, knowing my actions were the same as if I was basting a freshly roasted lamb. I was about to be devoured, and I was going to enjoy my last few seconds of self.

His approach was quick and calculated; his smell hit me first strong and sweet at the same time, then his hand around my throat leaving me no ability to make a noise. I drew my legs up quickly to my chest still slick from the freshly applied moisturizer. He used his other hand to pry my knees apart and force his torso between them. It was an inescapable position. My pussy was starting to drip as he violently caressed it. His excitement was pressing into my squirming thighs, and I shoved back him feverishly, fighting for just a few inches of space. He enjoys my fight, considers it an appetizer.

*****

The image was originally from here, and thanks to EllaRegina's detective work, an email address was located! The artist graciously allowed me to use the picture. Let's all give a great big thanks!!

XXX,
Alison

Sam 7, Fishnets 0

I knew better. But in my defense, I was only showing about two inches of the turquoise nets, in between my red suede fringed boots and the hem of my Loco Lindo (snagged at a thrift store!) sundress. But that didn't stop him. Those two fucking inches were all he needed. What is it about the nets that makes him want to shred them? And by "want" I mean actually shred them.

So here I stare, at what once were a fabulous pair of turquoise fishnets—reduced, alas, to so much string.

XXX,
Alison

Hot. Sexy. Edgy.

Alison!

I bought "Banging Rebecca" yesterday--with a name like that, how could I not buy it? And I am sooo glad I did! Hot, sexy, edgy--just the way I like my stories! :-)

Thanks for making my night (read it last night before bed...led to some "interesting" talk when my SO got home, lol).

—Jade

****

Thanks so much for taking the time to drop me a note! My cheeks are now this color...which, btw, is my favorite blush. Ever.

XXX,
Alison

Insert One Slut

Am working on a top secret project (to be revealed on Friday), but I just have to share this. I have written to two writers to ask if they would please "insert one slut" each into their stories. Don't know why, but that's made me all happy this morning.

XXX,
Alison

Follow Me — to Easy Street

In the fall, I was all torqued up about work stuff. Contract negotiations fell apart early this year for a project I had high hopes for. And then suddenly, none of that meant anything to me because of the swirl of chaos in our house.

My focus changed pretty drastically.

Is it apparent yet? I mean, I half-heartedly start blogs for book promotions, but I don't keep them up very well. I am much more interested in seeing your panties, notes, or sheets, than I am in trying to flog my products. Is that awful? Yeah, I hope you'll buy my books—but more than that, I hope you'll come by here and chat about whether or not you like to have items inserted in your ass. Because I'm just bizarrely wired. I want to know what people do when they take off their clothes. When they're naked and relaxed. How they talk. What turns them on.

And by them, I mean *you*.

And I have to thank you. This isn't the first time, and I'm sure it won't be the last.

See, I've been receiving the sweetest notes lately, follow-ups, asking me about Sam and his progress. I know I dropped a bomb awhile back, and then stood far out of the way of the shrapnel. But that's not really fair. If I invite you in, I ought to at least serve you coffee. Here's the deal. He had his surgery in May, and as you've guessed from my notes from the sexual front lines—he's feeling stellar. But this is how the world works—he has a very good prognosis, they say. And yet, in the same breath, they say that his cancer is more aggressive than they'd originally thought.

It's like, choose one from column a and one from column let's-fuck-with-your head. I'm going with good. He's good. He's fine. We don't know when he'll start to glow yet—the length of the sci-fi iodine radiation treatment hasn't been determined. But *he's* determined. He's just going to kick this motherfucker. That's the plan.

And we're sticking with it.

XXX,
Alison

P.S. Oh, and thanks, again, for asking! You know, some of the people we know in real life have totally backed away from us. Clearly, cancer = cooties. Eyes averted. Phone calls dropped. It's sort of amazing to me.

I got curious...

The "earings for clit" keyword search made me go on my own around the internet voyage. I landed at The Chain Gang, but I'm honestly not sure if this is a ring that goes there—or where?

I did a little research when I wrote Pierced. But you know, I can't think of this subject without remembering a Howard Stern pay-per-view special I saw back in the Dark Ages. There was this beautiful girl—totally stunning brunette—who said something like, "When I got my clit pierced, I came like a jack-hammer."

Damn.

XXX,
Alison

Who Ate All the Pussy?

Oh, I do love checking these keyword strings. They make my heart sing. Also, I have a new entry for the M is for Men contest, and the link to the art is fabulous. I'd love to put up the picture here, but the artist wants people to ask for permission first—and I can't find the contact info. So dear anonymous writer, if you have the time to search out an email, I'd be happy to contact the artist. (The email link I found says "Please Ask Politely"—or something like that—but doesn't link anywhere!)

Oh, and if you know who ate all the pussy, feel free to share!

XXX,
Alison

I just made this come true...

I just just just made a "grandma porn" reference at Sommer's house. And there. Look! People are hitting my blog looking for grandmother porn. WTF?

I'm not ageist at all. Or if I am, I go the other way. I like the older guys. Distinguished. Beat-in. But damn. Grannies? Really?

XXX,
Alison

P.S. Yes. It's gay if a guy wants his ass licked. If he wants his ass licked by a guy. If he wants his ass licked by a girl, he is not gay. Maybe this is something I should address daily. Because people are so fucking consumed by the query. Or maybe we should all do lines. Write it down 100 times. It's not the ass-licking that's gay or straight. Ass licking is good for everyone.

Get in Bed...

So I'm already a wee tiny bit nervous about a radio interview I'll be doing on Friday night. The show is called "Get in Bed with Cosmo," and the producer really liked Pleasure Bound. In fact, she said the title would be a: PERECT fit for “Get in Bed with Cosmo,” a show specifically centered around Sex & Relationships and based on Cosmopolitan Magazine.

This is where I hide under the covers and you all drag me out and say I'm going to do just fine. Right? And I'll post more details when I have them. I think I'll be on at 9:00 East Coast Time.

Oh, god. But what am I going to wear?

XXX,
Alison

No, really...these are the best shoes ever!

Aren't they fabulous? I'm seriously thinking of pruning off a few toes so they'll fit. (Cutting off body parts has been my internal theme today.)

XXX,
Alison

"I'm Here for the Gang Bang"

Hi Alison,

Just wanted to say that Banging Rebecca rocks. It was pretty intense - I felt like I was really in the room, I wanted to be in the middle of it, and I wanted more when it ended. And, I also liked being able to download it and have a nice long story to read whenever.

Enjoy your week :)
Jessica

*****

With a note like that, how could I *not* enjoy my week?
Thanks so much, J!

XXX,
Alison

Yeah, I know...

...I am treading deep in TMI waters. But fuck. I have to say that I *thought* I'd put in a tampon this morning. And let me tell you, virtual tampons do not work nearly as well as the real ones.

You don't even have to try this out for yourself.
Fuck the placebo. Learn from me.

Back in a bit.
In new pants.

XXX,
Alison

Kristina Lloyd Is the Bomb

I mean, Damn. I was in a pretty fierce mood. And then I read her Violet Sex story and got all happy again. Love when writers can flip my mood on its ass, and, um, fuck it with a strap-on. That's exactly what I needed.

Hats off, kid.

XXX,
Alison

People Suck

In 08, our sales dropped 50%, and we are down another 50% this year. Our non-erotic imprint is a ghost of what it once was. I've spent most of the past few months jettisoning inventory—and I am still going into debt to pay for the privilege of being a publisher. So when someone makes a comment like this, I have to nod:

Mainstream fiction has reached crisis point too, and publishing houses are laying off top-rated eds and thinning down imprints to skeleton level in order to stay in the book selling frame.

I mean, if I were to lay anyone else off, I'd have to start cutting off limbs. (I've never been a big fan of my right leg, anyway...) I'm the only one on staff, and I haven't drawn salary for so long that our payroll service has simply taken me off their regular call list.

But why on earth would someone feel the need to continue with the rest?

So what if a few authors are up in arms about lack of outlets, and let’s be honest here, half of the Black Lace authors are writing for Romantic imprints and mainstream fiction (shelf filling supermarket books). Basically, you’re hacking any and all genre’ with formulated plots, cardboard characters and often as not, little knowledge of what you’re writing about and byjove it shows in the piles of remaindered books one sees at paper recycling depots.

(FYI, this is a comment on an ECW post here.)

Is it the "kick them when they're down" philosophy?
Honestly, I can't comprehend the desire.

Don't worry. I'm not going to spin on this. I'll have an upbeat happy fucking post up in a second. I just needed .37 seconds to rant as my coffee brewed.

XXX,
Alison

Fuck Me... Pumps!

I am too tired from being up half the night after wearing my new FMPs last night to write a story about them, but I hope you will accept them anyway.
:)
X0
gigi

Oh, we accept them, gigi. We accept them!

What a way to start a week...

XXX,
Alison