My dad irons more than Monsieur boinks me and I need boinking. Well, no, my dad doesn’t iron that much; still. I need boinking. And not him going down on me until I get off a couple times and he says, that’s it. Then he holds me until I fall asleep. He needs to take me; that other business is like, not it. It’s good, don’t get me wrong, but, he’s gotta give it up. I do a lot for him. C’mon, this is just, what? 30 minutes, twice a week? Is that asking a lot? I ask you.
Is it any better now? Well. From the outside looking in, it’s the same. From where I’m sitting, it’s better. I hope it’s better. Anyway, Monsieur either is trying to be better or he figured out a really good way to hold me at arm’s length again.
I’m easily conned, maybe. Maybe not. I still have
Lady Ann’s.
In other developments … a woman who knows Monsieur and is probably hopelessly in love with him has found this blog, and thinks that I’m less than desirable stepmom and girlfriend material for this family. To her, I say, welcome, but please leave the hate comments outside. You’re perfectly welcome to comment, but please do so in a way that is constructive and not cutting. This is why I have removed your comment below.
Mariko, if you think I’m afraid that you’re going to call Monsieur and tell him what an awful woman I am, well, I suggest to you that you should give it a try. I’m not going to live my life in fear of him finding out who I am and what I do; besides, you know how smart he is and please be sure that he is perfectly aware of what I do in chat rooms. He also knows how much I love his children. What are you offering him? Wouldn’t he have accepted your offer instead of mine, more than a year ago?
I’m sorry it didn’t work out between you two exactly the way you wanted it, but that does not give you permission to come into my space and trash me and act the juvenile bitch.
I apologize to the rest of you readers, but I have no other way to talk to this woman but on this page. [Smiles] Let’s just move on, shall we?