An actual conversation betwixt myself and the security guard on campus:

V– do you ever get bored out here?
SG- sometimes, but I like watching people
V– ooh, I bet you could write a paper on the mating habits of Cal State Students, as observed in the parking area.
SG– blank look.
V– [explains what  I mean]
SG– Something about my ex wives
V– you don’t look old enough to have exes.
SG– baby girl, I am old enough to be your daddy.
V– I’m older than I look– I am 28.
SG– blink. Ok, maybe not quite. Maybe a young daddy, like 15?
V- but would you be a very good daddy?!
SG– it depends on what kind of daddy you’re looking for… a daddy daddy, or one to smack your ass.
V–I am the one that likes to do the spanking….
SG– oh really!! I don’t like being spanked unless its with a wet noodle or a tongue…
V– how on earth do you spank someone with your tongue?!
SG– it’s easier to show than tell…
V– Is that old line still working for you? It used to work great for me…

blah blah blah lots of flirting and spank talk. eventually would down to Voting for Obama etc etc etc.

Had dinner with friends, it was nice. I am sicker than a dog now (ha. shows you what a fucking ho I am, sick with the mange and flirting with the security guard. I had to leave my silly class because I was getting close to hallucinating….)

mmmmmmm Brandon, your Klingon photon metaphor made me heart sigh. Call me or something… I love it.

Oh, and peoples… all bets are off. I know whats up now bitches. maybe 

——

I just want to write this down real quick. Read this and pretend I am writing it to you

There is absolutely nothing like the feeling of your long, self-assured fingers sliding in and out of me, pushing into me, poking and prying into me and laying me bare under your direct gaze. Urging me closer to my own self fulfillment, plundering my secrets, devouring and savoring my darker, hidden corners. Quick with the flashy turn of wrist, slow to stroke my insides, you push and prod, hem and haw and balance me on the razor’s edge of orgasm, teasing me with your strong, capable hands. 

Hey my lovelies!

If you have talked to me recently you will have heard of my most recent sexual dilemma.  Or more like the most recent 2 dilemmas. (Dilemma 1 being the fact that James and I fucked around so hard Halloween night that my business now looks like I got myself fingered by Freddy-freaking-Kreuger)(dilemma 2 having to pertain to the following rant)

I am a girl. Ok, I am a girl who likes to think, likes to swear, loves to shop, be bossy, and put people in their places. I am a Dominant. That means that I have a dominant personality, I am an alpha female, I am in charge and I like being in charge.

It does not mean that I am dominating anyone. (Unless they ask for it). Domination takes 2 people, someone to be submissive and someone to be dominant. You cannot dominate someone if they do not let you. Likewise, you cannot be submissive or submit to someone if they do not realize that you are submitting to them.

For instance:

We are out to dinner and I tell you that you are buying, and you pay. I am just being a cow/bitch/rude person/myself. You actually agreeing with me is you agreeing with me, nothing in my demeanor forced you into saying yes, in fact you could have said no, but you didn’t. Likewise, I was not expecting you to say yes, therefore I was not dominating you because I did not have an expected positive outcome.

We are out to dinner and I tell you that you are paying and you are having the tilapia with macademia nut crust, white wine, and rice pilaf. I look you dead in the eye when I say it and I am serious. When you nod, you avert your glance and you are somewhat sexually aroused as you do as instructed. I know that you are sexually aroused and we are both aware of it. I am getting something from the exchange, beyond my meal.  I am dominating you and you are submitting to me.

There. I said it. I cannot dominate you without being aware that I am doing it and without you making a clear decision to submit to me. Furthermore, the kind of domination you are talking about is sexual in nature, and there has to be something to it. SO. 

If you want me to dominate you, slap your ass, boss you around, or otherwise– fucking ask me. Who knows what kind of reaction you will get.

If you want to be a tourist, then ask touristy questions.

’nuff said.

I am considering putting up a pool. guys, if you want to buy in to the pool you can contact me at sweetsexyvicky@gmail.com. The pool is to see what the hell is really happening. If we’ve talked, you know what I mean. If we haven’t, call me and get the low-down.

———————

mmmmmmmmmmmmmm

Michael, and by Michael I mean NAVYBOY. I am sorry to say that, you’ve been replaced. His name is Brandon, and for some reason, in my head he looks like superman. He’s now boyfriend #1 (yeah, he kind of kicked James to the curb, but only because he is fantastic and has enthusiasm).

How can you not fall in love with someone who accepts how badly you want to have Eli Roth’s baby?

speaking of…

Eli– you didn’t answer my email. I am heartbroken. We could live in czechoslovakia together making horror movies… I could play with props… we could fuck and be nasty and I could be your muse. Seriously, think about it. Please. xxxxx Vicky

FINALLY

people, go vote! Tomorrow is election day– utilize your citizenship!! and vote no on prop 8 if you live in california.

1. Poltergeist. This movie freaked the hell out of me. It is the sole reason why I am afraid of EVPs and cannot stand to hear static or see snow on a tv. “They’re heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeere…”
2. Cabin Fever. First it has the cute guy from “Boy Meets World” second, it is just one of the nastiest gore-fest movies ever and it has that wonderful tinge of verisimilitude… that leaves you thinking, Just how safe is that bottle of water you’re drinking?!?! Plus, Eli Roth. Babe, if you’re googling yourself and this blog post comes up, know that I would very happily leave the aforementioned husband to have your love child. Side benefit? you’re American so we won’t have to deal with USCIS.
3. The Entity. A woman gets raped, repeatedly by a poltergeist and everyone thinks she’s manifesting a guilt trip to cover up “masturbatorial fantasies” about her son. Any movie that adds to my vocabulary with a word like “masturbatorial” is up on my list. Plus, it just freaked me the hell out. *shudder*
4. Sleep Away Camp. Hehehe. This movie is so campy it’s bad. But still, the killer’s name is Angela, so what’s not to like?
5. The Shining. I’ve only watched it once. It scarred me and I probably won’t be able to ever watch it again. That said, it deserves to be on my list. Worst part? When Jack Nicholson is hitting on the sexy woman in the bathroom and all the sudden she’s looking like a quarter pounder a la Morgan Spurlock’s “SuperSize Me”. When he realizes that the woman is really a corpse… eeeew.
   
6. Halloween, Rob Zombie version. Oh my lord. Words cannot express how much I loved this movie. It’s only down so far on my list because of the other movies. I think that Rob Zombie did such an excellent job of semi-humanizing Michael Meyers and then completely removing humanity from his character, in such a way that totally made him fifty times more creepy. Because really, until Michael Meyers kills Danny Trejo you kind of feel sorry for him,
7. Thanksgiving. OK, it’s a trailer, not a real movie. But if ever there was a movie I could help bankroll (other than LGP movies, of course) it would be this one. Eli, if you’re still reading this, my phone number is ************. Call me.
8. Hostel 2. (I have no shame). This movie rocked so hard– I loved the ending. Hostel 1 was kind of a let down after Cabin Fever, but the sequel made up for everything and then some. And when the annoying chick from “the princess diaries” gets a scythe to the back… wow. Absolutely Amazing.
9. Texas Chainsaw Massacre (70s edition). Again, we go back to the reasoning “it freaked the hell out of me”. The house was an entire character in its own right, so dirty, grimy and spooky with the animal skeletons and everything. And the way the hitch hiker girl commits suicide in the beginning (”you’re going the wrong way”) totally gave me chills.
10. The Ring. So it was the beginning of the J-Horror flood. It still freaked me the hell out and when you think about it, we’ve now come full circle– from one movie about EVPs to another… only, different.

It works like this:

I post a message to you in my blog, and you come running like a sweaty, nervous hound, heeling to your mistress’s call.

Then I tease you, and taunt you as you beg for mercy.

I dig up some old dirt, smear it on the internet… and share it with the world.

For a moment then, I sit, breathless in anticipation of your reaction… wet with the knowing of what’s to come.

And then we dance… MY dance… to the tune of $150.

I have to tell you something:

Money turns me on. Not in a “it gives me a teeny illicit thrill” sort of way, either.

More like a, “I am a complete gold digging whore” sort of way and you can flash your cash at me all you want.

But see, it’s an important kind of gold digging. I don’t take your hard earned cash for my bills, my car payment, or my student loans. You’re little tributes and giftlets are not shucked away for my mortgage or my directv (gotta shout out for my tivo)… you pay my starbucks habit, my movie habit, my buy-myself-something habit. And I love it.

Cuz I am a greedy ho.

*sigh* I am not as good a secret keeper as I would like to think. I believe that maybe I am a trifle transparent. Who knows what a horrible poker player I must be? Seriously, in the last 2 weeks I have had classmates who are more than acquaintances but not necessarily friends pick up on something I considered secret. *shock*

YAM figured out which student I had had an interest in a couple of quarters ago– really quickly too, it was astounding. But, his reasoning was… less than sound. Liking star wars is not an immediate “I want to fuck you” but it is a requirement. Sorry, but I draw the line there. The only thing worse than someone not liking Star Wars is someone who prefers Star Trek. No wait. Preferring Star Trek over Star Wars is acceptable but preferring Survivor over either… I have to draw the line and turn away. Period. (They may as well eat babies boiled in birthwater… for all I care.)

And then my teacher-lady-nun friend guessed which of our classmates needs (in my opinion) a good, hard spanking. Preferably, while bent over a student desk, his nose scant inches away from one of his perfectly bland, obviously off-the-cuff papers, as he recited MLA format while I spanked him. Hard. With my leather paddle. SEE THIS VIDEO for a close approximation of what I mean. *gasp* I just watched it. I love that scene. …..

*snicker* Those of you who have been following recent posts will be highly amused to know that I have spoken to 2 Ricks this evening. This is highly amusing to me. And of course, while I was having dinner with YAM, slut was attempting to message me… slut shares his name with YAM– of course he does. Currently, slut is performing his “dildo tied to the leg of a desk” trick. I love that trick.

Finally, lucky me James is on his way home this weekend. I may be rendered incapable of talking… but I doubt it.

MY FRIEND… You know whO you are. James will most certainly be home this weekend. If you want to listen in, this would be a good time because honey, I am horny as all get out and you’ll be getting a pretty hot show.

I think that something is in retrograde or whatever. Because people from all aspects of my life are popping out of the woodwork like crazy-mad motherfuckers and it’s driving me nutball crazy. Seriously.

Let’s see… we have ex-boyfriends,  friends-with-benefits, good callers, bad callers, friends/fellow students lusted after in (mostly)complete silence{don’t play where you will end up having co-workers}, and finally… new people on all fronts. It’s enough to drive a woman fucking crazy. With mad, hot, hornball hormones. Seriously.

I started writing a giant dissertation on why violence can sometimes be sexy and how violence has been used in literature to display sexy goodness for hundreds (if not thousands) of years, but got sidetracked by my hormones. (And by the thought that this is a complete waste of time when I should be writing a paper a teacher will read and grade… not just read and spank to.)

For instance, I need to finish The Mabinogion today and write my paper on it. I also need to put the finishing touches on my paper about the Ulstermen. Oh, and go to French class… but I will wait and see when the midterm is and show up sometime before then. Maybe. (je n’aime pas francais! je deteste francais! je ne parle pas beaucoup francais!)

oh.

one last thing before I go. Jared Lynch left a comment:

jared | jaredfirebird26@aol.com | IP: 71.240.33.210

please take this down vicky

Jared, you know what you need to do to get stuff taken down from my website. You pestered me endlessly to get it up– so now you have to play by the rules to get it down. That’s just how it works. PAY ME. see, it’s very easy.

I am in a class that is teaching me (and testing me) on my ability to:

create a microsoft word document

respond to an email

change a font

attach something to an email

and many more things that are so freaking far below my level of computer stuff that I am currently drooling buckets into my starbucks, trying to stay awake, and wishing that I could beat the shit out of one of you punks just to entertain myself.

Should I turn in my blog as an example of being able to use this new-fangled and confusing technology?!

I am shameful! I can’t believe I have been sitting here waiting for calls and never thought to come here and say, “hey! I am back!”

I have bounced back admirably and have spent the last 4 days in a house chock full of very nice looking men (boyfriend included) for roughly 16 hours a day. It was a lot of fun, innuendos were flying at a rapid place and every so often one would hear boyfriend calling for me… but I was indisposed. *giggle*

Let me tell you it takes a LOT of time and effort to keep a houseful of men/boys very happy and lucky for me they were all of age (even if just barely). I could have gotten into a lot of trouble!!

———

In recent news, Thank you Scotty for my Kitchen-Aid mixer. I am planning on doing shameful things with it

I have a love hate relationship with summer storms and with air conditioning. See, they both mean rapidly and wildly vacillating temperatures which equals a rapidly sick Vicky.

It’s August– of 2008 no less. I don’t want to be sick.

Because next Monday, August 18, 2008 will be my 10th year anniversary as a phone ho. And I want to celebrate it in style– by taking as much phone cock as I can!!

Seriously, ten years as a phone sex operator (telecommunications representative). I started out at the fragile age of 18 years old, the summer after my freshman year of high school. My first week on the call room floor I flooded my panties every single call. By Thanksgiving I had determined that I would get a vibrator to smuggle into work (it was strictly against policy) so that I could get off already.

I mastered the art of the ‘no-touch’ orgasm. I did crazy shit too, like buy a crapload of books on sex and kinks and fetishes (ever the little researcher) and then I bought a micro cassette recorder. I bet you are asking why, right? Well, you try spending 8-12 hours on a call room floor with a bunch of phone ho’s and listening to their fake ass fucking orgasms. It’s enough to nauseate you. Screaming, wailing, panting, like some 50c porno booth stars. So, I coerced a friend to fuck me on tape and then fucked myself on tape as well, and listened to those 2 recordings OVER and OVER again.  Just to get the details right.

Do you know, I hold my breath when I get really close to cumming? I just stop breathing. It’s crazy. I also sound like a rabid Czechoslovakian wolfbear– or like one of the pig dog things from lord of the rings–uruk hai? I am not joking. It’s not pretty at all. It is kind of hot though, *wink*

I just realized, I have been recording myself fucking for a long time. hahaha. Shame on me.   I promise to have the BBC recordings and my livefucking recordings up for anyone to purchase at any time. A quick note, the shortest is about 18 minutes and the longest is 90, unedited.

See you soon,

Vicky