Morning, all! It's half seven on a Sunday morning. Why the hell won't my body let me have a lay-in? Urgh!
She Who Does Not Approve
Doggy treats anyone?
I can't get my body to do what I want half the time, so how on earth am I, or any sane woman, supposed to 'Come on Command'?
We don't come with remote controls. We don't have a pause, stop, or rewind button (as much as some people wish) and we sure as hell don't come with an instant 'come' button. If we did, we'd use it ourselves and leave the poor men sulking in a corner.
Oh, I stand corrected. He pinches her clit and BAM, she comes instantly. What a load of bollocks. Guess what, pinching can hurt! It's not always arousing and it sure as hell isn't a 'Come on Command' button. The only thing you'd get from a woman if you pinched her clit was an instant punch to the face.
Talking of men. What is up with those weeping cocks? Have we hurt their feelings or are the cocks sulking too?
Weeping?
Just saying the word makes me cringe! It's not sexy. If the end of a cock were weeping, it'd make me want to dish out the antibiotics and check for sores. Just say pre-come or arousal, if you have to.
Never, not once, should you say weeping cocks.
And what's up with women 'milking' cocks with their perfect pussy muscles? Yeah, when we come, we twitch, shiver, and maybe even clench a little, but milking cocks? No. Maybe these authors need to spend a day at a dairy farm to see how milking is really done.
We don't grip cocks like little vices, because if we did, I'm sure we'd suffer from cramp a bit and not the uterine cramps.
Many of you have asked about how I get this information or work out what to post. Well, a lot of it comes from you, actually. I've received lots of PMs on what bothers you, and I agree with the majority of the time. Keep up with the messages, they're my daily addiction!
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~Prick-a-Doodle-Do~
"And you're letting her post this? It's a risk, Edward. One that could cost you a lot of time and money if you're not careful. Her language is colorful, you might have to get her to tone it down a bit," Dad said over his coffee.
I let out a laugh then gave him the printout which accompanied her first blog post. It had only been up two days, but there were already quite a few comments supporting her, and commenting on the bright hair in her profile pic. She'd linked her post to her Facebook account.
That had then led me to looking at her profile, pictures, and even a couple of videos. No wonder she didn't want to have a party for her birthday. It looked like she knew how to have a good time before she was even legal. I also got to see pictures of her other family members, without the fifty's era get-ups. They looked like a close-knit family, which was good.
"It's a good idea, and you have the site traffic stats to back up this first post, but you still need to keep an eye on it. She can't list any book titles or authors unless you want a court case against you," he said handing me back the paperwork.
Mom stopped our chatter when she came into the dining room with our plates. I thanked her as I put the papers down to my side.
"Who on earth is that?" she asked, looking at Princess's picture on the printout. Mother looked utterly disgusted.
"That's Bella. She's been working at the magazine for around a year, and I've just given her a new assignment to handle," I answered then cringed when Mom picked up the paper.
"Oh, no. No, I don't like her one bit. What has she done to her hair? And heavens, Darling, you can't have this content on a website. Oh, no, she'll have to go straight away. There is no way I want my son connected to anyone who talks about milking penises and a lady's breasts. I have a friend in the city, her daughter just graduated college with A levels in social care and some media thing. I'll call her," Mom had her 'stern' tone going on, but this was one thing that she wouldn't have a say in, I wouldn't allow it.
"Mother, she is already hired, and her posts are raising valid points. The quality of writing has been going downhill rapidly with this new fad over self-publication, and she is raising the issue with people with whom she can connect. And, if I'm being honest, I've seen the books you gave me to give to her. That's where she got some of the issues from, to begin with. It's going to be an ongoing debate about quality versus quantity, and I support her in it," I stated firmly, giving her no reason to say anything further.
Mom sulked for the rest of the morning. There had only been a handful of times that I had stood up to her in the past and those times, just like now, she'd ignored me. By the end of the day, she would be back to giving me her opinion, though, and I wouldn't be able to shut her up.
As predicted, by the time I announced I had to leave, Mom was back to full talking mode with a slight threat of popping into the office to bring me lunch. I made a mental note to go out for lunch with Princess every day next week—just in case.
Talking of the Princess. She isn't as bad as I'd thought. At first, I preferred it when I was laid out in the dark on top of her, when I didn't know who she was, but not so much now. Bella hadn't been using her attitude and quick tongue as a defense, that much I was sure of.
It was turning out that was just who she is.
While I drove home, I thought about our day in the city. She'd thought that I was up to something. In the beginning, I had been doing a little planning, but it was just too much fun making her think I was when I wasn't. She was on edge the whole time while she was looking at paint chips, never taking an eye off me.
When we got back to her place, I'd offered to help her with the items she'd bought, but in the worst southern accent I'd ever heard, she accused me—quite loudly I'll add—that we hadn't even been out on a date and I expected to get inside her house. I had no idea how to deal with that, not when an old couple walked past us and shook their heads at me.
I made a vow right then to get her back. I would just have to plan it perfectly. Until then, I'd be the best ever boss.
.
"Jessica, have you seen Bella?" I asked, walking into the break room. Long gone was the tiny space from before. Now we had a much larger staff room which had everything we needed and even a few things we didn't, but I blamed Princess for that. She was dangerous with a credit card.
"She's in a meeting," Jessica mumbled around a large sandwich, making me look at the clock.
It was nearly one o'clock, and I knew for a fact that Princess didn't have any meetings. She is either up to something or . . .
"Aw shit! Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, SHIT!" I gasped and turned on the spot before rushing to her office.
When I got there, I made sure the door flew open in front of me and prayed I wouldn't meet who I thought was in the room. My prayers went unanswered when I came face to face with my Princess . . . and my mother.
Mother was standing in the middle of the office, arms crossed over her peachy-cream colored dress and perfect hair. Glaring at Princess.
Princess. Oh, dear lord. She was in a short denim skirt, her multi-colored hair a blazing mess, and Christ, she was wearing black and polka dot panties. How did I know this? Because she was sat on top of her desk with her legs slightly parted and swinging her feet, matching my mother's glare.
"You cannot be serious, young girl. You haven't been to college? Edward, Darling, you can't possibly keep her on. Too many people know who we are in this town, and in the city. They will read this drivel, and we'll be judged for it," Mother said, not taking her eyes from Princess.
"I'll have you know that I don't need to go to college and quite frankly, I don't know why I have to explain this to you. You are not my parent or my employer. Now, if you don't mind, I have a lunch date," Princess replied throwing me wink, which Mother caught, of course.
I should explain now that I'd already told her about my mother and how I would appreciate it if she could help me out in avoiding the woman during lunch. She'd agreed to help if I helped her decorate her kitchen this weekend. Apparently, as soon as her dad and brother got near her TV, they got side-tracked and became useless.
Now Mother thought we were having a lunch date.
"Date‽" Mother spluttered, and Princess started laughing. "You can't date my son, you just . . . you just can't!" Mom half-wailed and if we'd been in Victorian times, I'm sure she would've fainted.
"Yep, a date." She quirked her head to the side. "And why can't I date your son?"
Oh, no, Princess, please don't. I would have said it out loud, but my mouth had gone dry, and my throat was squeezing tight on me.
"I'll tell you why not, young lady. He needs a good woman, one from proper breeding. She needs to be well-educated and know more than simply coloring her hair in obscene colors!" Mom ranted, and Princess laughed again. "What of sports, do you do any of those? Do you go to the club?"
"Good breeding? Good breeding?! I'm not a bloody horse! No, I don't do any sports, and the only club I go to requires me to use a fake ID."
"Well, what about charity work?"
"No, I don't do any charity work because I work full-time. Any leftover time is spent with my family," Princess replied. I could see that she was quickly losing her sense of humor.
"Please tell me you are at least a Christian girl, that you give due respect to religion?"
"Sweetheart, the closest thing I have to a religion is when I call out God's name when I'm having a mind-blowing orgasm, and quite frankly, I see no reason why I'm explaining any of this to you. But I'll let you into a few little-known secrets, ones that I don't particularly like. I wear clip in hair colors to boost my mood. Why clip ins? Because not so long ago a lost a large chunk of hair due to stress alopecia. My hair isn't strong enough to dye it all the time. I don't do sports because I damaged my knee when I was little. I don't dance unless my father asks me because we nearly lost him a few years ago to a heart attack and I cherish everything in my life. I don't do religion because between that and politics, they've tainted humankind. Oh, and to top it off, my last name is Swan. My grandparents were the Swans of your damn society. You can't get much higher up the food chain of you tried. Now, if you don't mind, your son needs to get me out of this office before I start using my language education for purposes it was not intended." Princess growled, stood up, and then made her way over to me. She grabbed me by the cuff of my shirt and the next thing I knew, she was dragging me out of the office.
The door slammed behind us.
I was still silent. I was in awe. Struck dumb. And, horny as fucking hell.
"I don't think I'll ever be welcome over for Sunday dinner, Bossman," she whispered once we were in the break room.
"You just rendered my mother speechless," I stammered.
"Yeah, sorry about that," Princess whispered, and I had to laugh.
"Don't apologize, it was hilarious. I might just have to marry you to keep her from ever talking again."
What the fuck did I just say?
When Bella said 'I'm not a bloody horse', all I had in my head was Hermione in GOB when she said she wasn't an owl. Do you think Bella could pull off an English accent? Hehehehe.
So Edward put his foot in it a little at the end, didn't he? Ooops. I wonder what her reaction is going to be...
Next teaser:
"What have you done to it?" he asked, eyeing the food carefully.
"Nothing, but if you want, I could slip in some arsenic."