Storytime…

Dear Diary,

I have three things to write about this Diary entry: a writing progress report, a personal update, and a situation that embarrassed the living hell out of me.

I’ll start with the writing progress report: I’ve done tons of it. My main focus is still on Nephilim: Prisoner, the sequel to Nephilim: Daybreak, though I’m also fluttering through two other projects during my downtime: Erotic Urban Legends: The Casting Couch (a story featuring one of my favorite Naughty Cheerleader’s as the main character: Shae, the quiet redhead. Such an awesome story so far) and The Wencher: Blood & Sacrifice. So much fun!

On a personal update front, I’ve been spending a lot more time with my brother lately, making sure I keep Anne by my side. I’ve even (albeit slowly) started having friends over… it’s been nice to take a break from writing, and the pandemic, and just let loose and live a little. I’m an incredibly happy little loli. 😊

Now about the situation that embarrassed the hell out of me. So. Anne and I bought a vibrator because I figured it was time for another sex toy review on Patreon. IT IS SO AWESOME. Anyway, I was actually in the middle of, ah, ‘using it’ when my brother came over, and I barely had time to get dressed and toss it on the bed. Anyway, he came in, gave me his typical massive bear hug, and went to give Anne a hug too when he spotted the vibrator. He said something to the extent of ‘oh yeah, I’ve been meaning to get one of these,’ and proceeded to use it to massage his left calf (he had, apparently, pulled a muscle working out). He said it was a great massager and wanted to know where I got it.

The entire time he was massaging his leg, Anne was barely keeping it together, enjoying the shit out of the situation just a little too much, while I was trying hard to not pass out from embarrassment.

Anyway, I told him to save his money because the ‘massager’ was mine, and he asked if I could use it on his leg before we went to bed that night.

So, long story short, he has a new personal favorite ‘massager.’ 😶😭

When he ended up leaving, Anne looked at me and just exploded in laughter.

I’m still blushing. And dreading the moment he asks me to massage his calf.

Like I said. Three things.

I hate my life sometimes. 😂

I love you all.

Stay safe!

#Alexa

 

💡 The More You Know 💡

In 1968, a convention of beggars in Dacca, India, passed a resolution demanding that “the minimum amount of alms be fixed at 15 paisa (three cents).” The convention also demanded that the interval between when a person hears a knock at his front door and when he offers alms should not exceed 45 seconds.

 

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Anne’s slayed vagina…

Dear Diary,

“OK, these pants have to come off because they’re slaying my vagina.”

It was that comment that almost ended my life today. 😅

It was just the way Anne said it; you had to have been there. Maybe I should explain just a bit. See, Anne has this habit of running around naked when its just us girls, but I had some business paperwork to sign so I had it delivered to my place. Which meant she had to get dressed.

And she was not happy about it.

And apparently, her pants were slaying her vagina the entire time.

It only took a few minutes, but the second he left she plopped down on the bed and started wiggling out of her pants like they were full of ants. After about three seconds she glared at me and went “OK, these pants have to come off because they’re slaying my vagina. Can you please help me get these off?!” like it was the most severe, crucial thing ever.

I almost died right there. It was beautiful.

Little things like that just make my day.

Writing-wise, I killed it, completely finishing and compiling Voyeur: Season 1, Episode 5 (it’s scheduled to be released August 1st unless you’re a member of my Patreon, in which case you’ll be getting it free next month), getting about halfway through Knocking Up The MILF’s yellow revision, and laying the groundwork for some top-secret author stuff I’ll be announcing soon.

I’ll just say this for now: your girl is branching out!

My personal life, however, was nowhere near as impressive. I made plans to hang with the bestie Sunday, but other than that…boring. Well, with the small exception of Anne’s pants slaying her vagina. I’m not really complaining though. Dull days are nice sometimes. Especially for me, considering how crazy my life usually is.

I’m thinking about getting drunk tonight, I dunno. Drunk Skyrim sounds really appealing. And reading.

Until tomorrow, lov—

Liver: Wait a minute, wench. You promised no more drinking for the rest of the month.

Me: Prove it, motherfucker.

Liver: Fine. Let me check my texts… aaannnddd all my texts from you are gone.

[smiling smugly]

Liver: You deleted them when I was sleeping, didn’t you? Because you knew you were getting plastered tonight.

[smiling smugly]

Liver: I know you did. That’s fucked up. Does honesty mean nothing to you?

[smiling smugly]

Sucka.

Enjoy your weekend, loves.

I know I will.

#Alexa

💡 The More You Know 💡

The French national anthem, “La Marseillaise,” derived its title from the enthusiasm of the men of Marseilles, France, who sang it when they marched into Paris at the outset of the French Revolution. Rouget de Lisle, its composer, was an artillery officer. According to his account, he fell asleep at a harpsichord and dreamt the words and the music. Upon waking, he remembered the entire piece from his dream and immediately wrote it down.

Fuck Amazon. And whether or not to send noods.

Dear Diary,

The entire theme of my day has to be fuck Amazon. It seems like every spare second of my day has been taken up going back and forth with them over the motherfucking cover for the paperback version of Good Girls Gone Bad, which they swear is either 1) too small or 2) too big. No matter how I resize it or how correct it looks in their previewer, they keep alternating their complaints.

It’s genuinely fucking ridiculous. I should have just left it the way it was.

What’s even more maddening is no matter what I say to them, they just send form letter after form letter, like it’s some kind of automated machine cranking out responses with little to no human interaction. Now that I think about it, that might actually be the case, especially considering the news story that came across my feed this morning about Amazon customers saying they’ve been mysteriously locked out of their accounts — and they have no idea why.

Not that Facebook seems to be doing much better.

But I digress.

Even though I am (at this writing) still going back and forth with Amazon and my bestie is determined to distract me by sending provocative pics of herself while she’s at work (which I almost reposted just to fuck with her), I did manage to completely finish the rough draft of Naughty Professor (you can read it here: https://www.patreon.com/posts/naughty-rough-18013255) and almost complete the revision of When Daddy Was Away. I even managed to dabble a bit in the revised version of Nephilim: Daybreak. It was a good, productive day, Amazon and bestie noods notwithstanding.

Now. To drink or not to drink. That is the motherfucking question…

Liver: Not to drink.

Me: What the fuck? Since when did you start talking?

Liver: Drinking is harmful to your health. What’s the point of all that working out if you’re just going to drink?

Me: Bitch shut up. I let you make it these past couple weeks; you have it coming. Besides, you know I’m trying to write a Diary entry here, right? We can hash this out later.

Liver: I’ll send your noods.

Me: Motherfucker, if I get drunk enough, I’ll send my own noods. And maybe even my vidz.

Liver: …

Me: That’s what I thought. Checkmate, bitch. ✊

#Alexa

“It’s wonderful to be in love. And it’s definitely wonderful to cuddle and have sex and get to experience life with somebody. But it’s OK if you don’t find him and you’re 24. You can find it someday.”

– Leighton Meester