About Me


Subscribe: RSS for blog RSS for comments

Facebook icon and link Twitter icon and link Flickr icon and link Qik icon and link Dopplr icon and link
MySpace icon and link MyBlogLog icon and link Technorati icon and link Tumblr icon and link Blogger icon and link

friend me on Facebook
follow me on Twitter
view my photos on Flickr
watch my videos on Qik
find me on Dopplr
join my MySpace
check my MyBlogLog
my Technorati profile
view my Tumblr
my Blogger profile
Blog RSS feed
Comments RSS feed

Recent posts

12 Steps
Rock it
How not to chat up The Girl
The Girl’s top 10 guide to chatting up a girl
The Girl’s top 10 guide to chatting up a bloke

Places to shop and visit

My Top 10 Toys - Women
My Top 10 Toys - Men
My Top 10 Toys - Couples
Fleshlight UK
Durex's Ora!

Sunday, September 04, 2005


When my friends ask me what I think about, when I go for a run for an hour, I am often tempted to say,


though of course, I don’t.

Whilst it is the truth, I doubt very much that they would be able to cope with my honesty, since they have, when I have responded similarly in the past, retorted,

“Oh my god Girl, you are obsessed!”,

and then quickly changed the subject, whilst shifting uncomfortably in their seats.

So, instead of telling them what is really going through my mind, whilst I run, I instead say that I focus on,

a) the end objective - how good I will feel when I have finished running the distance

b) pushing myself to ‘go just five more minutes’, then ‘another five minutes’, and then ‘c’mon Girl, what’s another twenty minutes on top of that?’

c) getting myself into a zone, where I feel peaceful, calm and focussed on my breathing

d) recalling how a particular bloke might have pissed me off, and remembering what a wanker he was, makes me grit my teeth as I run even faster

e) recalling how a particular bloke might have pissed me off, and how gutted he would be, to see me now, as I tone my thighs and arse even more

f) listening to The Killers and knowing that I can beat the timing of a particular guitar riff, now that I have overcome that bastard hill

g) looking at the park/street/road I am running on, and acknowledging that London can in fact be a beautiful city to live in

h) feeling the endorphins flowing through my body as I sprint for the last five minutes of the hour

So, not technically lying, just not the complete truth either.

But what if I were to answer my friends honestly, about what is really going through my mind? What could I possibly say?

a) that when I ran past that handsome blond man, I knew he was looking at my erect nipples, and as I imagined his hands ripping off my top to free my breasts from beneath, it helped me run faster?

b) as I got to the brow of the hill, I saw two guys walking toward me; the vision I had of me between them, one cock in each hand, sucking them alternately, made me sprint to the top and race down the other side?

c) when I saw a woman wearing a body hugging wrap-dress and no knickers, I wanted to lift her skirt up and slide my hands between her legs, and this thought made me sprint past her, and race alongside the traffic on the road?

d) if I concentrate on recalling in detail, the sex I last had, before I know it, ten minutes have passed and I am nearer my end objective?

e) if I think about a person with whom I want to have sex with, and concentrate on what it would feel like to have their cock in my mouth; their fingers between my legs; and their cock pummelling me, a good twenty minutes pass, and I get closer to my end objective?

f) when I listen to The Killers, and it gets to a particular guitar riff, I think about how nice it would be to listen to the song whilst on my hands and knees, getting fucked hard from behind; with this thought, overcoming hills is no obstacle?

g) if I see a couple making out together in the park, I wonder whether the girl would be circling the outline of her lover’s cock with her thumb like I would, and the tingle this thought gives me, spurs me on even faster?

h) with a constant throbbing and wetness between my legs whilst I run, the pulse of my clit feels like an extra heartbeat pushing the blood into my body and energises me, forcing me to work harder?

The reality is, is that no matter how many times I might play before a run, I always become turned on when training, so instead of being preoccupied with the things normal runners think about (targets, breathing, muscle cramp), I am instead thinking about what is happening between my legs.

And this makes me want to play.

So I figure the harder I run, the quicker I can finish, and finally reward my throbbing pussy.

With another workout.

Sadly, my friends could never deal with my admitting this to them: it's one thing being an anonymous sex fiend; it’s quite another to have all your mates thinking that you are always gagging for a shag.

Even if it is true.

[My latest entry at Rentboy Diaries elaborates some more on where my head is currently at]

designed by one man