10

Brunch, ben wa balls, butt plugs and girl on girl beginnings…

There comes a time in everyone’s life… well ok, maybe not.

But there’s always a time in mine when I get asked such random questions that I often don’t see them coming and end up doing this…

 

One of my girlfriends called me up one day to advise that some her kinky friends are coming up from our nations capital and she had some unexpected work pop up, so would I mind being hostess to them while they were in Sydney for a night? She says they are a married couple and really lovely people. I say sure, why not. I don’t have anything on that night so it seemed like a good idea.

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26

Austin, I am in you… but he isn’t in me! Failed dates…

My 2 nights in Austin turned into a week in Austin and that still wasn’t long enough for my liking.

After my disaster that was the hotel/motel of disgusting – I ventured into the air-conditioned cleanliness of the Holiday Inn and literally bounced over to the check in counter to check in. I rushed up to my room, threw open the door, left my suitcase in the hallway and threw myself on the king sized bed and rolled around moaning in ecstasy. Yes I have fits of insanity. Don’t judge me. I might have even made lovely dovey eyes at the flat screen teevee at the foot of the bed on top of the lovely dark wooden furniture. There were no roaches. No spider webs with roaches in them and a chocolate on my pillow. I thought I’d died and gone to heaven.

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3

What happens in Vegas…

Ends up on my blog. Damn straight.

My last night in Vegas was definitely something to write home about. Or possibly not.

Post card message home… From Vegas. With love.

You see, I had this greyhound pass. That for a month let me get on and off greyhounds at will. Travel anywhere, anytime. So that morning I trotted down the greyhound station and made sure I got a ticket for the bus that night to El Paso to see a friend. Not a problem, they booked me into the bus that was taking off about 8pm. Win. I left to go shopping. Because that’s what I do best when hungover. Well, shop and fuck. But we come to that latter bit later.

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