It’s my birthday this weekend and I couldn’t be more peeved about it. Not only am I turning an age that officially sounds old, but I am also working which means that I may have to cancel on my own soiree at my favorite Tranny bar! Did I mention I’m going to be old?

What happened to the days when birthdays were fun? Cake with icing, lots of presents and the time to enjoy them? I suppose I shouldn’t complain and instead be grateful that I am here—alive and well—for yet another birthday, cuz the truth is that I hope to be around for about a hundred more of them much like my cute and feisty grandmother who is still rockin’ high heels at 91.

Since I have to miss out on Drag Queens and delicious Cosmos the night of my birthday, I feel that it gives me the right to pout and sulk a bit AND ask for stuff, so, I present to you all my greatest wish list ever:

I wish for:

-Long and healthy lives for all of my loved ones and their loved ones, and so on and so on (pets and exes included)

-For people to consider adopting a senior dog since shelters are full of them and they make great pets whose appreciation for your love actually shows in their cataract covered eyes

-Chillier fall weather so I can start enjoying sweaters and boots without sweat running down to my tuchas

-A white Christmas (as in snow—not the movie or song as I own both)

-A fuck buddy who won’t let me down and will do me right at least a couple times a week or be available for my drunk-dials

-To have a lick session with a man who is as orally gifted as my last lover. I need it bad. So bad.

-For all candy stores to bring back Big League Chew gum cuz I don’t like to fly without it thanks to a self-made childhood superstition

-Shoes and boots or the money to buy em’… LOTS of em’!

-The uncut UK version of the movie ‘9 Songs’ simply because I am a perv who is all about REAL SEX in films—all films

-A new laptop. Preferably a teeny one so it fits nicely in my LV Mary Kate bag. (Attention Apple: please feel free to send me one to review)

-A Sybian

-Exotic coffees from places a writer can’t afford to go

-For Bath and Bodyworks to open in Canada so I don’t have to drive so fucking far just to smell like Warm Vanilla Sugar

-For Playboy to accept at least one of my submissions – PLEASE???

-For this guy who posted this ad on Craigslistto finally find someone—anyone—to ride his “fuck pole” and like it (WARNING: following the red font leads to some hilariously icky nudity)

I think that’s it for my wish list–at least for now.

For those of you who do get to be out enjoying Saturday; have a fruity alcoholic beverage for me and feel free to send gifts or at least your warm wishes. Even better would be the digits of an oral superstar to lick me until I forget how old I am turning.

Happy friggen birthday to me.

To the reader who is pissed that I have written about my new Diesel fragrance:

I am so grateful that you had us bookmarked and that you took the time check out my work. I even appreciate your cranky comment about my Diesel posts and can see how it can be irritating, which is why I’m not gonna get all cunty about it. I do however want to have my say on the matter—as always.

Here’s the thing; if you had us bookmarked up until now then you must have been enjoying our site, yes? I won’t even get into the whole spiel about how this is a hot site that offers some very amusing reads by some very sexy and talented ladies—FOR FREE. I would like to think that you may have even had a chuckle (or a masturbation-fest) thanks to one or two of my posts. Well, my posts about my perfume are not that much different from my others–which from what I understand–have been pretty popular among the peeps.

You had nothing to say when I wrote about sliding a slick glass dildo in and out of my pussy after it was given to me by an adult toy company, nor did you bother to poo-poo on any of my little ditties where I gushed about my mind blowing fuck/suck/lick-fests with my most recent lover. Did you ever get upset that I would want to write about those things?? NO! So why get your panties or briefs in a twist because I opt to show my appreciation for a company that was generous enough to send me some free perfume??

Just as I truly value a good oral sex session or pounding from a talented guy or a night spent fucking myself with a sex toy courtesy of a company that was kind enough to send me an expensive toy, (one that I would never be able to afford thanks to writing here for free) I am glad to show some love to Diesel for sending me a fragrance that I love.

As glamorous as this whole writing thing may seem; it ain’t all Manolos and Cosmos! Most writers start writing for love and not money, but sadly, love doesn’t pay my rent. So, when someone wants to give me something because they think my writing is great—I want it, appreciate it and yes, write about it!

If you really want to get your point across and stop me from writing these occasional posts that you refer to as “commercials”; then feel free to compensate me for my time and talent.

Thanks

After calling it quits with my amant du jour yesterday, I decided the only way to make myself feel better was to vamp myself up and head out for a much needed night of sheer debauchery.

First, a long, scorching shower (there was no need for a cold one as the tragic demise of my complicated NSA partnership was plenty sobering). After the shower I sprayed on my latest obsession: Fuel For Life. It smells amazing as is, but when you spray it on fresh out of the shower; a little goes a long way and the heat from your skin really brings out all of the luscious notes and undertones of the scent—très sexy.

I admit that standing naked, flushed from the hot shower and smelling foxy did lead to a momentary lapse of judgment which made me contemplate dropping to my knees and begging him to do me even if it meant tolerating the games; but I took a deep breath, regrouped and returned to my senses.

When you’re naked and smelling like the lovely sexual being that you are; you can’t help but wanna spend the rest of the night that way and revelling in your own hotness, but doing so with only your vibrator to keep you company won’t cut it, so I continued whoring myself up for the night. On came the barely-there panties (not too hard when baby’s got back!), followed by my lucky jeans and one of the sluttiest tops I could stretch over my pushed up-and-out bosom. Perfect.

I slinked through my lobby with no particular destination in mind, as the scent of aphrodisia trailed behind. Then, as I reached for the door—painfully aware of the fact that I am not really the go out and pick up sorta gal—out called a voice from behind me, “Wow, you smell great” it said.

I turned to find the most delicious diversion smiling wickedly at me.

Thank you again Diesel; Fuel For Life is also a love potion.

Since I was young I have been known for my ability to lose interest in things quickly—people being no different. If something in a person peaks my curiosity or intrigues me at all; I’m right in there. The moment a person or thing has lost its luster; I begin to fade away… far away… onto something new.

I recently discussed this with someone who had already made the same observation all on his own. He seemed to feel a certain justification from it for the way he flies in and out of my life on a whim—one that suits him only. He went as far as to say that he believes the only reason that I am still even remotely interested in him is because he comes and goes as he pleases and leaves me little choice as to when or if we hook up. Hmmm…

I thought about it after he left here the other day and wondered if that was the case. Could it be that the only reason I was so drawn to him was because he was such a mystery and not readily available? I realized that it must have played a small part in things—at least at first. After more analyzing though, (we women do it so well) I have come to the conclusion that it takes a lot more than that to keep me from going limp.

Granted, the ability to make me climax like no one else does add to the charm, as does being someone who is interesting to talk to. The fact that I could lie there naked and sweaty and listen to him intently for hours on end is also a major factor in my not yet wanting to avoid him like the plague or all of my other past boyfriends/conquests. But alas, if he thinks that disappearing from my life with no regard for my needs is the way to go; then our toe-curling orgasms are numbered.

I admit the severe commitment phobia is somewhat amusing as it mirrors so many of the parts of me that I like to deny. If I was still under the silly assumption that we could be more than lovers, then I would find his fear of true intimacy tragic. This is not to say that I don’t still on some level wish that there could be more, but rather that I know better. Maybe that’s what’s got him running scared? Whatever it is; it is neither cute nor endearing or even remotely intriguing anymore. I’d say ‘frustrating’ sums it up just right.

Frustration does not equal intrigued or fascinated by any means. In fact; when I get frustrated, my first reaction is to sprint away from the cause of my frustration. It doesn’t make me wet with anticipation and contrary to his belief; it doesn’t make me yearn for him more. In fact, it begins to take over and make it difficult to remember all of the other things that did make me hotter for him than anyone else—ever.

Maybe he’s actually trying to turn me off in fear of getting too close? Maybe he’s just bored of the sex—though I highly doubt that! Whatever the method to his madness; I am beginning to lose my hard-on. One can only be toyed with for so long before it stops feeling as if you’re a sexy pawn in a naughty game that you both want to play and instead begins to feel like an obvious and undeserved lack of respect. Not sexy.

I have to send a big wet and delicious thanks out to the peeps at Diesel for sending me the new fragrance to try out. So to you: muuuuwaaaah! It’s so awesome to know that people do hear my pleas.

I am not just ecstatic at having received what is now my new favorite perfume, but also for what it has done for me since I got it a couple of days ago. My life has been instantly sexed up! Coincidence? I think not.

Since starting to wear Fuel For Life, I have:

- Written one of my most erotic stories yet (while wearing nothing but the perfume for inspiration)

- Had 3 compliments on my scent—2 from men and the other from a woman—in the same outing.

- Been told: “you smell so good I could eat you”

- Been eaten

- And reminded later on that my scent drove him wild and that he can’t stop thinking about me because he can smell it on his shirt… and me on his face.

See, Fuel For Life really is the sexiest scent around! It brought out my inner vixen and sexed-up my week big time! God knows I needed it.

I am so in love with this stuff that I may just have to document what else it does for me, my libido and my love/sex life.

Remember those old Impulse body spray ads from the 80’s where a girl would pass wearing the scent and a guy would run after her and give her flowers? This works the same way except instead of a bouquet of flowers, the guy wants to ravage you naughty romance-novel style! The ad wasn’t exaggerating when it said “use with caution”!

Thanks again Diesel! Feel free to send along anything else that may get me some lovin’!

I have potty mouth and when amongst friends, when my comfort level is at its highest; I tend to channel a drunken sailor on shore leave and say some things that are inappropriate to say the least, like: ‘Oh, suck my cock!’ It causes the odd mouth to drop, but most of the time it just makes the room erupt in laughter at the sheer absurdity of it all as I am quite obviously a female — one who makes no secret of being proud of her pretty pussy.

After shouting it out earlier, it got me to wondering what it would be like if I did have a penis. I don’t mean that I thought about it in the serious and tragic way that a hermaphrodite might have to, but more in the same perverted manner that I do everything else.

Boy oh boy! What I would do if I had a dick! Let’s discuss, shall we?

If I had penis:

- I’m not sure I’d ever leave home or get much done!

- My carpal tunnel syndrome would become aggravated to the point of debilitation. Yes, from wanking off.

- I would invest the time and energy into advanced Pilates and yoga classes in order to become so flexible that I could suck it myself—something I am stunned more men don’t do.

- I’d most definitely be one of ‘those’ guys, you know the ones; a little creepy and always a little flushed and sweaty, constantly “adjusting” their crotch. The kind of guy whose hand is always kinda damp when you shake it.

- I would save on birthday and Christmas gifts for my female friends and just fuck em’ all properly instead. The keyword being “properly”. Lord knows that I would know what a woman wants a cock to do.

- I’d surely be arrested for indecent exposure and lewd acts, because lets face it: as a sex writer, I am aroused about 20 hours out of my day. Hiding a warm puddle in your panties is a lot easier than trying to hide a permanent boner—especially the mammoth one that I would have. (I’m guessin’ if my tits are this big, then certainly my dick would be too)

- I’d also probably end up in the ER on more than one occasion having tried to twist and bend it in hopes of finding a way to fuck myself. (This could explain the long waits in ER’s across the country)

I think penises are wasted on the wrong people. I’m not talking about all men of course—I love men waaaay too much to bash em’ all. I’m just talking about the ones who don’t do them any justice. What’s the point in having it if you have no clue how to use it properly?

I’d be a proper-sex philanthropist; traveling the world over and fucking women the way we deserve to be fucked: long, hard and delicious.

Oh! I’d also return calls… maybe.

I should have known that there was a reason for my latest fascination with Diesel’s fragrance Fuel For Life—other than the delicious models in their ads. Turn’s out that I had smelled it before. Much the way you associate the smell of pine trees with Christmas; this fragrance—the cologne specifically—reminds me of hot, slippery sex for a reason; he was wearing it during our last hot, slippery fuck-a-thon!

Who ‘he’ is, is not as important as what ‘he’ did *wink-wink, nudge-nudge, sluuurrrrp* He rocked my world to unexplainable proportions and did things with his tongue that I never dreamed possible! Daaaammmm….

Before I get carried away by the flood of juices that are filling my desk chair and super-cute capris; let me get back to the whole association between Fuel For Life and yummy (oh-so yummy!) sex.

Aside from the memory of his cologne filling the air mixed with his hot sweat-that-can-only-come-from-fucking-you-so-hard smell; the sexy fragrance has also lingered on my sheets the last couple of days. Every time I pull the sheet up over me, or the breeze comes through my bedroom window; it instantly takes me back, making me all wet and tingly and fills my head with visions of him nicely snuggled between my thighs where he belongs.

Up until now I have never been a fan of cologne on men and much preferred the natural…well… man smell, but this one seems to suit him (and sex) just right. It also somehow reminds me of fall. This may well be because as he was rocking my world, my bedroom window was open and I noticed that the breeze blowing through had that certain back-to-school, fall kinda’ smell and the two seemed to blend just right.

Anyway, I guess I am officially converted and now do prefer men in cologne—at least Diesel cologne.

If the man version smells this amazing; is it safe to assume that the ladies fragrance will too? I’m all about leaving a sexy scent trail behind as I walk past a group of drooling men! Think I’ll have to give it a try and see what smelling it on his sheets does for him…

It seems that my posts about casual sex are quite popular and always result in emails from readers who are curious about this aspect of my life. I recently got asked to describe my ideal sex partner or booty call, so here I go…

My idea of the ideal booty call candidate is very specific. I have this down to a bit of a science really and it has taken many years for me to know what I want in terms of a sexual playmate… right down to the hair color.

And contrary to popular belief: dick size has absolutely nothing to do with it!

The man that I envision as my sexual ideal has traits that stem back to different instances in my life. My European background is responsible for my love of men with dark hair and eyes. I would guess it also explains my love of hairy guys. Yes, hairy.

My preference when it comes to a man’s hair (on his head) and what I find sexy is quite specific: shoulder length or longer, coupled with a goatee or five o’clock shadow. This comes from something dating back to 1994 and all I can really say about that is “Vitamina guy”. Yum. (Nat and Boob know what I’m sayin’!!) The longer hair actually serves a practical purpose as well by giving me something to grab onto other than his chin when he’s lapping away between my thighs! It works in the same manner as reins do on horses.

I also cream myself over men who are very calm and serious—the opposite of myself. I am extremely aroused by a man who has the balls to speak his mind and put me in my place when needed. And no, I am NOT talking about slapping me around! (So help the man who ever makes that fatal mistake).

A calm voice is a huge turn on, especially for a girl who has been known to climax with the right amount of whispering in her ear. If he gives good talk – he’s more than half way there.

The personality of my sexual ideal is a mix of movie men really. I need someone who is part Daniel Day Lewis in The Unbearable Lightness of Being (see pic) and part Mickey Rourke in 9 ½ weeks (we’ll discuss my view on the impact of that film on society one of these days). That would make him a man who knows how to take charge, is sexually open and has the type of insight that helps him to know exactly what a particular woman needs and what it takes to get her to test her own limits and really push her self-made boundaries.

My ideal would also be someone who would make me feel as if I can say and do anything. He could make me crave him in a way that goes far beyond anything that words could ever express. He would also have the ability to make time feel as if standing still when we’re in bed. Sound cheesy? Maybe. But until you’ve experienced it, you can’t even begin to know the meaning of euphoria.

I think every woman needs to know what it is to feel as if you’re the only two people on Earth when he’s deep inside of you and looking into your eyes. Mmm, to be all consumed by someone and wish that you could find a way to get even closer…

Napkin please!

Did I also mention orally gifted??

(Men with ALL of those qualities may send their resumes to me at: adrie@girlspoke.com)

I admit it: I am a huge fan of anything with an ‘adult content’ warning. If it looks as if it may contain something even remotely sexual; I will open it, touch it, read it and even smell it.

My name is Adrie and I’m all about sexy.

I was up to try and make a deadline at about 4 this morning and during a self imposed coffee break; went to the Diesel site to look for a pair of shoes I had seen while in Europe and ended up on this page dedicated to their new fragrance “Fuel For Life”. Well, spank my ass and call me naughty–didn’t the site have two of my favorite things–a hot guy (shoulder length dark hair is always a plus!) and an adult content warning!

This site was way too fun and way too intriguing–so much so that I stayed on for about an hour and almost missed my deadline.

First; all the models are just fucking hot and scantily clad! Next, there’s a little game you can play where they help you find your perfect match and finally; the models are hot! (Did I already say that??!)

BTW — That’s the hot model up there on the right –a.k.a.: inspiration for my mornin’ o’ self-lovin’! He looks even hotter in motion while topless and drenched in rain. Drip. Drip. Drip.

This game lets you spin a wheel and “enter the experience”. I’ll have you know that looking at the initial model with the shaggy hair and great lips helped me to ‘enter’ my experience… twice!

Anyway, you answer a few flirty questions and it takes you to this park with other names scattered across the grass. You click on the name of your choice and get to indulge in a chat with men and women of many tongues. (I could have said ‘languages’, but I seriously have ‘tongues’ on the mind this morning)

Anyhow, it’s just really cool and certainly did its part to help get me off… on the right foot today.

I haven’t actually smelled this perfume yet, but I’m thinking it smells as delicious as a hot, slippery night of sex… minus the musky, sweat smell of course.

Talk about suggestive advertising! I have been plagued by visions of naked, dewy bodies writhing around, tangled in sheets and smellin’ all sexy and sweet–all just from visiting this site. I must be horny.

Anyway, if anyone has any Diesel hook-ups I would love to sample me some asap! (Note how I use this as a mooch-opp? Feel free to send along gifts anytime.)

Guys seem to be moving in slow motion in regards to what women will and won’t do. I see it everyday with the men I deal with and the ones that I am related to and realize that they really don’t get how far women have come when it comes to sex! Many guys are still livin’ ol’ school and thinking that they need to throw in some sweet words or pretend that they feel something that they don’t just to get laid.

Newsflash: Women like to get fucked without the romantic entanglement just as much as the next guy!

Men keep making the same mistake over and over: they aren’t upfront about the fact that all they want is pussy. I know that I’m going to get a shit load of emails from men saying that the reason for this is that women want more, or that we’re too easily offended or put off by such a brazen request, blah, blah, fucken blah.

It’s time to get your tail out from between your legs and fess up. Repeat after me: I think you’re hot, but I am NOT AT ALL interested in a relationship. I would however love to lick and pleasure every inch of you on a no-strings basis.

It’s that simple.

It may seem brash and chances are that you’ll encounter a few rejections, but that’s no different than your odds when you ask a girl out on a regular date—whatever that is these days.

Example of why your way doesn’t work:

Boy sets out having no interest in a romantic attachment.

Said boy then meets uber sexy girl who also happens to be sweet and all around amazing.

Boy carries on as though he is smitten—‘hooked’ if you will.

Boy and girl have many conversations about everything under the sun.

Girl starts to have very strong feelings for boy.

Girl also believes that he really cares about her and is as smitten as he claimed to be.

Boy still wants to fuck said girl, but nothing more.

Girl starts to see that boy doesn’t really feel the way he claimed.

Sadly, girl is in so deep that she’s torn between her contempt for having been misled and her strong feelings and desire for him.

Girl and boy have wicked, amazing, mind-blowing, toe-curling, ultra passionate sex.

Girl tries to not care for boy so much and just enjoy the moment, but is confused by boy’s occasional expressions of tenderness and wants to believe that they actually mean something.

Boy and girl start fighting when her resentment floats to the surface.

Girl decides to forget boy exists even though it is really hard.

This goes back and forth for awhile and boy periodically sucks her back in by saying things that he knows she wants to hear.

Eventually girl gets sick of games and wonders why boy had to pretend that he wanted more instead of having been upfront. Her physical attraction was enough that she would have been more than happy to fuck him silly, NSA, if he had been upfront and not allowed (encouraged) her to feel more. Now girl is so exhuasted by the games that she has given up.

Now boy will probably never again enjoy the sweetness of her pussy, her soft, vanilla scented skin or the feel her amazing touch again.

The lesson here: STOP LYING!

Be upfront about what you want. It is not women who complicate things; it is this miscommunication from day one that fucks up your chances of having the most incredible sex of your life without complications of the heart!