14 May 2021

13 May 2021

Not since the morning of my birthday have I been quite so flustered and flummoxed. What you might ask had left perky, pokie, sodden-cunted me so bothered and bewildered? Well, when I finished my diary yesterday my fingertips were already tipping and tapping their way across the smooth runway of my public mound in a teasing dance of moan-inducing temptation, and the organisms were quivering beneath my touch in trembly anticipation. Now one thing I have learned as a comparative adult is that to find an organism is to enjoy an organism and it seemed as if I had discovered an entire viral load of organisms just waiting to be released. Yet, with every flick of my pearly clit and each needy thrust of my fingers into the juice-logged marshland of my cunty-soddenness the organisms sparked and spluttered but refused to explode. No fireworks only sparklers. No whizzy rockets flying off into the night sky and exploding in a starburst of a trillion, million colours, just damp squibs prancing just out of reach of my digits urgent caresses. It was most frustrating. 

Now, I'm a perky, pokie, bouncy, jiggly, wiggly sort of teen-angel and I don't give up easily, so all night I stroked and rubbed and twisted and pinched and flicked and teased and filled the pulsing hole of my neediness with rampant, demanding fingers until I was just sweat covered, writhing, mindless, jerking, pathetic flesh. But whatever I did no organisms. But with all that whacking of my non-bushy bush I was a rather bushwhacked teen-angel when I crawled out of bed in the morning and not even a sugar-rich bowl of Unicorn Froot Loops could put a little sparkle and glitter in my day. Then I remembered that it was Candy's Birthday and just knew that the day would be super-scrummy dumptious and filled with ecstatic bliss. 

So it was fantabulous that the wardrobe of predictability had the most fabulous party dress; a completely sheer halter-neck bodice that clung to my breasticules like a second skin above a tulle pancake tutu, all in glorious scarlet-woman red. Ohh and the shoes! The shoes were to die for. Crimson ballet pumps with six-inch heels and ribbons that criss-crossed up my calves. Finally, a selection of diamanté body art tattoos to decorate my wondrously exposed décolletage, buttocks and pubis and I was the yummiest, scrummiest, glitteriest, concentrated party adult ever. And so I wiggled and wobbled on tippy-toes out of the house and round to Candy's clutching her beautifully packaged, 'it's a surprise', birthday present. 

But it was me who got the birthday surprise for who should answer the doorbell but, OH MY GOD I can't quite believe I'm going to write this, Mr uber-kewl, soak-your-panties-or-cum-in-your-pants sexy, tween idol extraordinaire, ex-member of No Protection, Zain Love. Instantaneously my waterfall cunny deluged by thighs, my breasticules heaved and jiggled as if they were the epicentre of a Richter scale busting earthquake, and I started hyperventilating, and next thing I knew... 

Well, the next thing I knew was that Candy's Mumsy was slapping me really, really hard across both cheeks, and my head was spinning at 78 rpm, and my heart was racing at 180 bpm, and behind Candy's Mumsy was Zain Love asking whether I was going to be alright, and whenever Zain Love's mouth moved I heard Candy's voice in my fuzzy-wuzzy head. Which was more weirdo than all the episodes of Twin Peaks ever. And then I decided I must be dreaming because barely concealed beneath the lapels of his peach-pink suit jacket I saw that Zain Love had breasticules just like me, and not any old breasticules but a pair of perky, pokie, jiggly, drool-worthy, teen-angel, breasticules of bountifulness. 

If all the organisms weren't busy hiding in some other teen-angel's tight, soft, smooth, welcoming, cunny of pleasuring I'd have had at least a dozen of them right there and then, but instead I had to make do with dribbling and drooling and slathering at the exposed fleshiness and engorged nublets. As my saliva splattered across my titty cleavage and a pool of cunty jelly-juice soaked my botty and thighs, Candy's Mumsy introduced me to Zain Love who 'was not Zain Love' but Candy. 

OMG. Fuck me hard in every available orifice like some slutty, slattern of slapperness. Could it be true? Could this pansexual, non-binary, sexy God and Goddess be my 'bestest friend forever forever', Candy? And Candy's Mumsy was saying that maybe we should open my 'it's a surprise' birthday present, and I was ogling Candy's twin peaks of sexy provocativiity and fluttering my eyelashes in my yummiest, scrummiest, most enticing way, and Candy untied the bow and ripped off the wrapping paper and the present was... 

A strap-on dildo. 

Well, I thought that was a very nice and considerate present for a newly conditioned adult 'bestest friend forever forever', but both Candy and her Mumsy started laughing like hyenas who've eaten too many red smarties. Which I thought was a bit rude. But then, Candy stood up, unzipped the zipper on her peach-pink trousers of androgeny and flopped out the mostest, perfectest todger of pleasure-giving I'd seen in all my days as a contortionist adult. Candy had a dandy. She was a chicklette with a dicklette. 

The next thing I knew was Candy's Mumsy was giving me bitchy slaps again and my cheeks were nearly as red as the blood swollen cockhead of Candy's todger, and Candy was explaining that she wanted to be treated as an individual who was free to express her sexuality in any way she chose and not to be labelled and made to conform to pre-conceived stereotypical tropes, and I thought that was unlikely because after all this is a porn story. Then Candy's Mumsy said that it was a really nice 'it's a surprise' birthday present, and it would be sad for it to go to waste, and that it fitted her quite nicely, and we hadn't really celebrated my birthday properly, and that meant we had a double celebration to celebrate, and that the bestest way to celebrate a double celebration was with a double penetration.

So Candy took her perfect, pansexually, todger and thrust it in my front bottom, and Candy's Mumsy used the 'it's a surprise' strap-on to plunder my back bottom, and my pretty, glinty, plug of princesses was pushed into my mouth so I wouldn't lose it, and all the perky, pokie breasticules and nublets of desire were rubbing themselves over my trembling, quivering flesh as Candy and her Mumsy pounded at my pleasure bottoms. All the organisms were dancing and cavorting and pirouetting in my tummy like every single ballerina in the world doing Swan Lake on a single pinhead, and the plastic and fleshy cocks of convenience were rubbing together as they tried to reach the ballerinas, and all I wanted to do was organism, but...

Then Candy's Mumsy screamed 'fuck her til she cums', and they both were pistoning into my sodden squelchiness like the bits on engines that go in and out really, really fast, and all I could do was cling to my 'bestest friend forever forever' and sob and whimper and scream as blackness and starbursts overwhelmed me. 

Nighty night.