Man After Man, Coming & Going & Coming Again And Again

I don’t want to sound my age here or anything but I had the very best time this St. Patrick’s Day weekend at home. But I wasn’t alone oh no, no. I had a lot of company. A lot. Between my phone and cam shows at NITE FLIRT and iFRIENDS I was one busy little bunny. Hopping up and down on first one cock then another. Bending and spreading left and right. Oh what a mighty fun time it was. I started the weekend off by getting a set of photos posted over at SOUTHERN CHARMS.What a kick in the ass that shoot was. Me and my shooter are able to take advantage of some of the warmest weather yet to take some steps toward shooting outside. Not that I’m adverse to shooting in the great outdoors. In fact it makes me randier that a jackrabbit on a date. Just something about the warm sun caressing my body- I just can’t resist the deep seeded urge to spread myself wide to the clear blue and anyone lucky enough to happen along. Well being in one’s own backyard, you know,with the possibility that a neighbor might see, well, that’s a little different. It was fun and a hoot, really, but I didn’t want my neighbors to see me with my pantyhose at my ankles and my knees spread wide for the camera. It’s the frame of mind I guess. I deal and relate with my wonderful neighbors in this wonderful neighborhood on a different level that I do when I'm romping for the camera or sharing a hot, hot diddle with my phone and cam friends. I know you know what I mean. Not that some of my neighbors aren’t diddle worthy. Fuck me, no. This place crawls with all kinds of men in all states of undress. But I keep that in my head where it will do the most good.

Sppprrrrrrriiiiinnnggg!!!!!!

I know it’s a little early by a week or so, more or less. Spring starts March 20 at 1:26pm here on the East Coast. OK so I am keeping a close eye on the season. It’s been a long, long time since I had a real spring. A real spring at spring time. So I am anxious to get the page turned, you know what I mean? But I’m not saying that I’ve long suffered a bleak and bitter winter. Nope, not me for a change. Why, you ask. More importantly why am I so making a point of making a point of acknowledging the changing of the season? I mean, you say, the damn season changes every three months every year. And I say True, true. But this spring is my first spring not in Alaska. And here, where I am, it is unseasonable warm. The temperature was 80 degrees yesterday and it’s going to 80 degrees today. In Anchorage, where I’ve lived and loved and labored for the past 14 winter-to-springs today, presently the temperature in Alaska is like 27. That’s 53 degrees difference. And that is worth noting.

You know it’s always fun to find some thing or another that maybe you’ve hadn’t seen in awhile. How nice
it was to find a little something-something long time gone but not forgotten. Well this happened to me just yesterday when an
old playmate. Well, OK, a long time submissive of mine. Yes, that’s right, your sweet little shy flower, Sinful Critter, has
a bad ass side. The name of my alter persona is Ms. Josephine. She’s been with me all my life poking and nudging me when I
needed a little extra gumption, a little extra spit and vinegar. Josephine will speak up, poke her head into the room, speak
my mind or whatever it takes to get things set right. It was more than a few years ago that it was brought to my attention
just how many hapless fellows there are out there in the world longing for the tactility of whip and crop. I felt obliged to
help these little lost puppies out. So, time goes by, the Internet becomes user friendly and begets PEP where I had some of my first phone sessions, iFriends, Southern Charms and Nite Flirt. All wonderful places for Mst. Josephine to live learn, and grow. Along the way Charles comes along and goes away. Now after a much too long a time he comes back. It’s the kind of thing that
occasionally brackets an arbitrary period of time for me. Charles is like an old sweater or a disc of music that somehow got
put aside and not picked up again for a long, long time. And then when circumstance conspires to bring you back together my mind runs over all the things that have transpired between then and now. Funny the things that can provide valuable
perspective.

Can I brag a wee bit? Cool. I just got up because, man, I need the Z’s. My phone has been scorching hot. And my damn camera hasn’t missed a thing. You have got to get over to me at NiteFlirt. You guys have me going like crazy and the sessions have been absolutely epic. I don’t know if it’s the moon or the first hints of a Georgia spring or what the hell it but I’ve been killing on the phone. And you want to know what’s really blowing me away? I can’t get enough. I simply cannot get enough. You all are so wonderful and I just love making you feel good all over.

Oh, yeah soon you’ll see a brand new listing for little ‘ol Critter over at NiteFlirt and it’s a hot one, maybe even a little hotter than some of the others if that’s possible (which upon reflection it’s not). It’s a special line for all you money slave-pigs. You guys know exactly who you are. So open those wallets, bend over and take it like a man.

Light the Lights!!!!

So did you watch the big party last night? I didn’t. Not really. Dropping in and out is the best I can cop to doing. It’s not that I hold Hollywood or the entertainment industry in any type of disdain or anything like that. It’s just that I draw pretty much my own conclusions about my entertainment. And really, after all, they are just people doing their job. Doing their job well, certainly. And their job is to entertain me, right. And for my part I hold up my end of the deal. I enjoy curling up and suspending my disbelief and escape into another’s world. Fact or fiction it doesn’t matter. A good film is a good film. I enjoyed “Monster” as much as I enjoyed “War of the Worlds” I enjoyed them differently to be sure but enjoyed them equally. I think what I have a problem with in general is the fascination with celebrity and pop culture. Entertainers really earn their keep by enduring the public humiliation they endure daily on TV and weekly on the papers that assault us as we check out at the grocery. Now I understand that some of them are media whores (whore is really too nice a moniker some of them are more like media leeches) tangled in some twisted dysfunctional relationship with the paparazzi and the tabloids in general. They are insecure and compulsive about getting their name and face out there in front of us. And like in any other symbiotic relationship the other half (the tabloid press) is more than happy to supply the demand. It has to wear on the hunted, though. Eventually they want a moment of real privacy or genuine peace and they find it’s not to be and wind up further humiliating themselves in some way or another. And the members of the tabs are just bottom feeders slugging along through the dregs and slurping up whatever inane bits of minutia of their quarry’s life they can intrude upon. So I get by casually observing from afar. Bemused at best, chagrined at worst.