Frock Stars!

Bruni on the Brits, a report from my UK correspondent 'peewee'

It has been reported that Britain is apparantly a nation of cross-dressers, according to France's First Lady, ex-catwalk, nudie & glamour model Carla Bruni. She said; "I like British men very much because they accept their femininity. I adore this thing that comes from the theatre centuries ago where the roles of women were all played by men. I think this idea of dressing up as a woman is great fun. A Frenchman or Italian would never do this."

So, it seems that the international view of the Brits is that we are leading the way for frock stars! Oh Dear! Perhaps I should embrace my country's heritage, as well as your preference for transfoming under-endowed whiteboys into sissies, and try to accept my femininity a little more. I mean, if David Beckham is prepared to wear a sarong to impress Posh Spice, then surely I should be willing to prove my devotion to you, Empress Sara, by tucking my microphallus into a pair of frilly knickers!

Ms Bruni's comments were probably intended to downgrade us. For a nation with an undeniable 'je ne sais quoi', it's surprising how much anglophobia seems to exist in France. Any excuse to run the Brits down. Maybe they're insecure. When Blair was our PM he was accused of fostering a slavish relationship with America, and was dubbed as Bush's poodle by our press. I suppose the French don't want to become a poodle's poodle.

pic of Carla Bruni back in her modeling daze

Tera Patrick -- Size Queen

From FHM UK:

In a recent interview Tera was asked: "Does size matter?"

Her boner-chilling response: "I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but any girl that says size doesn't matter is lying. A lack of inches immediately puts you on the back foot. Of course size matters. Absolutely. The bigger the better, the thicker the wetter - that's my motto."
Pic of Tera Patrick & Hubby

The Disease of Pussy Desire -- A Confession

pic of Shay Laren
I was skeptical at first but after our call Sara had me almost fully cured of the disease that is pussy desire. I tried to jack off to pictures of the beautiful penthouse pet Shay Laren the morning after our call and could not even get or stay fully hard. I finally ended up jacking and cumming to pics of hot naked men and of 100% gay porn. The whole time i heard her wonderful voice in my head telling me that I don't want pussy just cock. Sara is the real deal, pussy will soon only be a distant memory, from now on with Sara's instruction it is gay all of the way. I'd love nothing more than to be her chaste fluffer human atm gayboy sissy.

Elvira in Stitches

Elvira, Mistress of the Night, a Vegas showgirl in the 60's and 70's, revealed Welsh crooner Tom Jones has / had the largest cock of any man she ever bedded down. Not only the largest, but after he was done pounding her privates, she had to have repair work done. Which reminds me of my sister. Awkward segue, but my sister had a memorable "water-skiing" accident. What she told my mother was that she was water-skiing with some friends in a bikini and not wearing ski shorts and the boat was going too fast and she crashed and tore her perineum. She had to go to the E.R. and get stitched up. Awkward, as she was a nursing student at the time, and she said the E.R. doctor was cute and she was embarrassed and he didn't fall for the water-skiing story. So my sister won't do the buttsex any more. My mother still believes the water-skiing accident story. I'm sure she could never in a jillion years picture either of her daughters doing any nasty anal action. To torque my sister, I keep threatening to tell my mother the truth about the water-skiing accident. My mother, if she hears I'm going windsurfing or jetskiing or anything in the water, will tell me to wear neoprene shorts, "REMEMBER WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR SISTER!!!!!" I just roll my eyes.

(my sister is going to kill me for posting this....Sara)

OGC - Office Girl Cuckoldress

See June 15th blogpost to catch up with the action....

Peewee's update on the Office Girl Cuckoldress situation:

Just as I had begun to believe Office Girl's comment about my murse had been a flippant, cheeky wind-up, the situation has turned on its head again. During a team meeting today, Office Girl asked, in a whisper, whether she'd missed my birthday. I mocked regret, as I informed her that she had... by a whole day! She duly advised me that she had never-the-less bought a present for me, which she intends to bring in next week. I told her I could hazard a pretty good guess as to what it may be, and we both chuckled knowingly at the impending plight of my doomed murse!

So, it would seem likely that my possession of a murse will prove a relatively short-lived humiliation. I wonder whether the simple act of dispatching the murse, in favour of carrying a masculine wallet, will suddenly free me of my beta male status? Almost as if my manliness is somehow interlinked with the wallet I carry....

....Then again, just as I was wondering about the possibility of emerging from my beta-boy plight with my male ego intact, I observed Office Girl stretching her legs in front of me during the meeting today. I couldn't help but notice an ankle bracelet on her right ankle. Perhaps she's aways worn it, but things have changed since I saw her last. I became aware the other day, whilst undertaking some sociological research for potential future consultancy writings for your blog, that an anklet on the right ankle of a female is known to be a coded indicator of a 'hotwife' or 'cuckoldress'!!

Accordingly, I'm ashamed to admit that as she stretched out her right, anklet clad, leg earlier today, I instinctively thought of your cheeky blog theories. This, in turn, led me to imagine myself crawling between her legs to lap away at her used pussy, as she and her big, black lover chuckled at the earnest efforts of her cuckie boy! Which I'm sure you'll agree is not a particularly healthy thought for one to behold whilst simultaneously attempting to concentrate on the team manager's monthly appraisal of the region's financial performance! I blame you, Goddess Sara!!

Fast forward 2 weeks: I still haven't been given my manly wallet. But I saw Office Girl Cuckoldress on friday and she agreed to bring it in for me on tuesday. In fact, she has sent me a couple of saucy text messages over the weekend. But the big development is that I've recently discovered that OGC is married! So now I'm wondering whether I've totally misread the situation and I'm actually being targeted to help her cuckold her husband. That would explain her ankle bracelet and why she wanted me to carry a more manly wallet. My murse obviously didn't fit with her image of me as a potential studly cuckolder. If that's the case, I dread to think what she'll make of my peewee! It's not like she can pop down to TopMan and buy me a more manly dick!!

sexy ankle bracelet pic c/o www.nipplecharms.com featuring jewelry for kinky girls!

The Gay Brain

(From Reuters News Service) - Gay men and straight women share some characteristics in the area of the brain responsible for emotion, mood and anxiety, researchers said on Monday in a study highlighting the potential biological underpinning of sexuality.

Brain scans also showed the same symmetry among lesbians and straight men, the researchers wrote in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences.

"The observations cannot be easily attributed to perception or behavior," the researchers from Sweden's Karolinska Institute wrote. "Whether they may relate to processes laid down during the fetal or postnatal development is an open question."

A number of studies have looked at the roles genetic, biological and environmental factors play in sexual orientation but little evidence exists that any plays an all-important role. Many scientists believe both nature and nurture play a part.

Brain scans of 90 volunteers showed that the brains of heterosexual men and homosexual women were slightly asymmetric with the right hemisphere slightly larger than the left, Ivanka Savic and Pers Lindstrom wrote. The brains of gay men and heterosexual women were not.

Then they measured blood flow to the amygdala -- the area key for the "fight-or-flight" response -- and found it was wired in a similar fashion in gay men and heterosexual women as well as lesbians and heterosexual men.

The researchers added that the study cannot say whether the differences in brain shape are inherited or due to exposure to hormones such as testosterone in the womb and if they are responsible for sexual orientation.

But this is something they plan to look at in a further study of newborn babies to see if it can help predict future sexual orientation.

"These observations motivate more extensive investigations of larger study groups and prompt for a better understanding of the neurobiology of homosexuality," they wrote.

Overheard at the Club -- Is there an Optometrist in the House?

One dude to another: Dave totally needs to get his beer goggles checked!

{commenting re: a friend chatting up some gnarly looking chicks}

Normally, the club does not let in gnarly looking chicks. Everyone knows that the secret sauce to running a successful club, probably anywhere in the world, is to let in the hottest chicks, the guys will follow and spend $ like fools. But the club world has been slow lately, and so the bar has been lowered (no pun intended).

American Empress

It's disturbing that, on this very date in history, your fine nation declared it's independence from my kingdom, Great Britain, and yet 232 years later I consider myself totally conquered by you, dependent on your commands and a devoted slave whom you own unconditionally. And in my case, there's very little likelihood of any forthcoming liberating declaration of independence being agreed!

In fact, I thought it was a fitting tribute to your nation's celebration of independence from my kingdom, that I, an English man (boy), prove my submission and servitude to you, my American Empress. I have done so by embracing (and adapting somewhat) a few common celebratory customs that your empowered population enjoy on Independence Day. To summarise, I spent the evening on my own, and have proceeded to:

1) Yank off my Doodle Dixie, whilst tunefully humming The Star-Spangled Banner tune;

2) Spread my emasculated ejaculate over an 8" American Hotdog, and forced it into my proud British mouth. It stuck in the throat a little!

3) Commemorate General George Washington's famous 1778 toast by washing down my US jumbo sausage shaped humiliation with a drop of Brandy.

I hope that these acts are an appropriate and timely demonstration of my dependence and enslavement to you, my wonderful Empress Sara.

yes yes yes! Sara

2x/10m

Frat pledgeboy calls and says he has to jerk off and cum 2x in 10 mins or be booted. And forever branded as a campus pussywimploserboy. The pressure is on. I hear all the fratboys around him yelling JERK IT yeah PULL THAT PRICK. He tells me that the only help he was offered was that he could call a phone sex op. But he called the wrong girl if he wanted help. I tell him that I need to talk to one of the fratboys so he passes the phone over. I tell the fratboy that I have even a better idea. That he will have to eat his cum like a good little fag if he can even muster up 2 cummers in 10. The fratboy agrees. At the 3 minute mark we record the first spurt and creamy vanilla slurpee. Then he jerks even more furiously to get it erect under the pressure of the timer ticking. All I can hear is whoops hollers of FAGGOT CUM DUMP YOU FAG yeah GAYJACKER while I tell him that he really doesn't want all the girls at his school to know what a faggot loser cum gobbler he is, and that he better squirt out another. I don't know if I can, he whimpers. What a sissy. I have no mercy if he doesn't bust a 2nd nut. But somehow between the 9 and 10 minute mark he spurts again. Triumph! A miracle of masturbation. Click.

Mirror, Mirror

One of my admirers tells me I remind him of Claudia Cardinale, the actress. I had to google her to pull up pics, and must confess I wish I looked like her. Bellissima! There's something seductive and smoldering about her when she was my age. I lack that inner fire, and the boobages. Where can I capture that raw tigress power essence? It makes me feel a paper doll when I look at myself in the mirror.