A certain somebody sent this.

So why aren’t you down on your knees?

….where you belong!

If you’ve checked out my links (over there-see Ethical Smut), then you’re already a member of SpyOnUs, the super-sized indie porn site of Trixie the Wandering Web Whore and her hunka-hunka-burning-love boyfriend Tucker. Oh and there’s another business partner in this venture. Dare I forget DeliaCD, Tucker’s cross-dressing alter ego? (Who, by the way, happens to be the sexiest panty boy on the Internet today!)

I’ve been enthralled with these two (er, three?) for quite a long time. Personally, I would lose my mind availing myself to the porn-surfing public as these guys do. Mind trips are fine, but I need my personal space and I need it very personal. Trixie and Tucker not only do it, the do it with style and generosity. They serve up walloping, meat & potatoes porn for the discerning surfer, complimentary wine and dessert included! Did I mention they are pretty to look at, interesting to read, very smart and sizzling hot? Oh, baby, they are so fucking hot!

They also happen to be principled business people. You get a lot more than you pay for and you get a no-strings-attached membership which can be canceled at any time.

Soon Delia will be the featured "lady" in the Powder Room at my professional site. Bless her little sissy heart; she let me run wild in her member area to pick and choose from her oh-so-sexy exclusive content. I can’t wait to see how it turns out. I am also writing a couple cross-dressing, forced feminization, lingerie tease stories for her site.

I hope to interview Trixie soon for Sex-Kitten. She is an Internet pioneer and visionary, setting the standard when it comes to principled adult websites and creator of the now-legendary Webwhore Manifesto.

As she says at her flagship site, TastyTrixie.com:   I try to strike a balance between amateur art and porn, between pleasing porn-lovers and pleasing those who want material that is both substantive and explicit, between indulging in fantasy while being committed to reality, and between providing reliable weekly updates while striving to constantly improve the quality and depth of my work. Sometimes I fail and sometimes I surprise myself. I hope you will be pleasantly surprised too!

Trixie also happens to have the loveliest nipples (the cute, hard-as-a-rock "eraser" kind, just like mine) so I just know you’re gonna fall in love with her.

Are these people cool — or what?

So what are you waiting for? Go join today! Tell ’em Angela sent you.

Inspired by Bend Over, Rover, my post of 3/12/06 where I rambled and opined about dildoes and strap-ons, a very creative gentleman (I’ve bought some of his mainstream stuff–a truly gifted artist) decided to put his talents to work in–shall we say?– slightly darker pursuits. As you can see by the above picture, he seems to have a knack for this.

Here is said gentleman’s description:

A hand-crafted Crepe Myrtle Dildo, it is about 9 ½ inches long with the head being approximately one inch in diameter.

So if you’re in the market for such things, let me know. I just might be able to hook you up.

(Aside to Mr. Gentleman: You made my day! And you just wait until I get you alone the next time! Be sure to bring along that lovely little creation…I will make sure it’s put to good use.)

I just have to dish with you about Isabella Valentine.

So remember you heard it here first: Danger, Will Robinson! Girlishly flirtatious, erotically mesmerizing, shamefully addictive, sinfully sexy and wickedly beguiling, Ms. Valentine is BIG TROUBLE!

The kind of trouble I am talking about here is that Isabella is just too much of too many things: too smart, too creative, too talented, too sexy, too cute, too fun-loving, too positive, too kinky, and too good of a friend. Did I leave anything out? Well, let’s just say she is too much of a good thing and leave it at that. And you do know what they say about too much of a good thing, don’t you?

The fact is that if you are in the mood to get your phone freak on, Isabella is the girl that you should be looking up (when I’m nowhere to be found, of course). If you can’t tell by now, I simply adore this Fem Fatale.

Everything about her is first class, as is evidenced by her meticulously crafted website, which was a Vamp’s Pick at Jane’s Guide. Her daily journal (blog) is a favorite of mine, showcasing Ms. Valentine’s intelligence, creativity, passion for life, unceasing energy (artist, student, phonesex operator and much more) and generous spirit–and should be on everyone’s list of daily must-reads. I mean that! Go bookmark it right now.

Obviously, I happen to like Isabella bunches. I am lucky to count her among my friends, and I cherish that friendship deeply. She also happens to be an ethical and passionate business woman, which is why her callers adore her and phonesex operators look up to her.

Isabella makes the world a prettier place just by being in it. She’s so delightful, I could pinch her cheeks. And she’s so damn hot, sometimes I think about fucking her. And I’m straight! So that just shows you how powerfully charismatic she is.

Did I tell you that one of her specialties is Erotic Hypnosis? I don’t dare call her.

I just don’t dare.

You would find her enchanting, because there is a naive girlishness about her that attracts. You would laugh until you cried–holding your side, literally in stitches–at her antics. You would throw up your hands in frustration at her “self will run riot,” yet ultimately mother and protect her.

She is my friend, and I want you to love her. Just like I do.

So Nanette has a big fight (one of a never-ending series of battles because he is a creep) with Danny. She is refusing to have sex with him, which is driving him crazy. Even though he cheats on her at the drop of a hat, even though at the acme of their latest tumult she’d strewn his clothes from her open car window all over the streets of their neighborhood, Danny wants to fuck Nannette. But Nanette has no intention of putting out. She wants him to suffer for whatever latest conniving idiocy he’s committed.

Little does Danny know that he will soon feel the wrath of Mr. Happy.

Now I’ve had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Happy on more than one occasion. Nannette is quite proud of his six inch phallic physique and the various attachments and settings which make playing with him so much fun. She’s even described–in vivid XXX detail–the singular pleasure of combining the “jelly tease sleeve” with the quick, repetitive jabs of the “jack rabbit” setting. It seems Nannette plays a lot with Mr. Happy when she’s home alone.

So this particular night, Nannette is home alone when she hears Danny’s car pulling into the driveway. Caught of guard, because–like I said–they are in the middle of this huge, on-going spat and she didn’t expect to hear from him, Nannette grabs Mr. Happy and runs into the bathroom, locking the door behind her.

Three sheets to the wind, as he usually is, Danny still manages to get his key to work in the lock and get inside the house. Seeing the light under the bathroom door, he knocks, begging Nannette to come out, saying that he is sorry and just “wants to talk.” Nanette refuses, telling him to leave. Instead, Danny goes to the kitchen and gets a beer.

He returns to the bathroom door, most likely to continue his snake oil pitch for redemption, because, after all, Nanette always eventually bestows forgiveness. But he hears a low buzz, buzz, buzz–perhaps even a moan or two. Even in his drunken state, Danny is able to finally put two and two together.

“God damn it, Nanette,” he yells into the wooden door, “I know what you are doing in there. You just stop that right now and get your ass out here.” But Nanette doesn’t stop. In fact, her moans become louder.

Danny tries a different approach. “Baby, you know that I love you. I can take care of you better than that thing. Come out here, honey.” Nanette only moans louder.

Obviously Nanette is having much too fun with Mr. Happy to pay any attention to Danny’s pleas. While Nanette continues her-noisier and noisier–climb to orgasmic bliss, Danny is reduced to jealous tears, pounding on the door, begging, whimpering, pleading. But Nanette has better things to do, as he soon hears when she begins screaming in orgasmic release.

The outcome of all of this?

Eventually, since she and Mr. Happy were done for the night, Nanette unlocked the door, emerging from her little “love shack” to find Danny, literally on his knees in supplication. He’d been defeated, at least for that night, by six inches of plastic.

Oh! Another thing? Nanette has a tendency to talk a lot, she’s such a bouncy, perky type. So every time she gets around to telling this particular story? Danny gets dicked again. Now there’s some lip-licking–yes, there is a god–cosmic justice for you!