College summer schedules are limited. I would have preferred to take a creative writing course during the summer - or even something a bit more light - but among the courses offered - POLI SCI called my name the loudest. The college - which is very small and sits ontop of what has to be the hottest hillside in southern California fills to the point of sliding off of that hot hill come summer time. I suppose a lot of the older college students come home from break and (gasp) take a few classes before their semester begins in the fall. For this reason, my Dr. Poli Prof, adores summer sessions. Summer students, he cooed, are more serious - and often times a tad more intelligent than students who attend during regular semesters. I glanced around and wondered if this class just might be the one to prevent his HYPOTHESIS from every becoming an actual THEORY. Or did I get those two terms reversed? Science, along with math, has never been my strong point. Surprise Surprise.

But anyway, I glanced around the classroom and saw a few students in the back with ipods on, sipping their blended chai teas - oblivious to the fact that they were in class and that they might just need to, I don’t know, write a few notes every now and again. Across from me sat a boy that was so tall, his legs practically reached the desk top of the cute brown skinned girl directly in front of him. And then there was a girl way across the other side of the room that looked like a boy. She looked so much like a boy, in fact, that she could have really been a boy. Ya know - I don’t remember seeing any breasts on that boy. Maybe she really is a he. But due to her rather feminine sounding voice I’ll surmise she is a girl. She had on a baseball cap and wore the baggiest jeans I’ve ever seen…on a girl. She made comments to every single solitary thing the professor spoke about. Relevant or not, it didn’t seem to matter to her. A few students just gave up any pretense whatsoever and were sleeping soundly. And then there was me - amidst about 10 other students who sat oh so obediently at our desks with pencils posed, alert and ready to jot down anything that seemed important.

My professor handed out a stack of papers with assignments, required reading lists, and other things that were about as thick as the book for the class. And despite all of these things (his rather faulty premise of summer students, and obsession for hand outs) I quickly realized that I loved him. For under all of the required readings and assignments and threats to confiscate our cell phones if we couldn’t turn them off prior to entering his classroom was the seal of approval. My professor was a writer…a writer of hundreds of articles and at least 50 books. Sure, the books were about a subject that had the potential of putting me to sleep, but they were still BOOKS.

So the other day during class I paid special attention to my Dr. Prof Writer Extraordinaire. I wondered if he wrote from a mac or pc or a electric typewriter or a manual. I wondered how many other books he had sitting in his brain waiting to be written and if he really wrote as many letters to the editor as he … skip that. He does write letters to the editors and congressmen/women and anyone else who requires one. He seems to be about 60 or so - and when he lectures he always looks directly at me and somehow - even though government was never my favorite subject (dang - do I have ANY other favorite subjects other than English!!?? lol!) - to answer correctly. Somehow I knew what Article I, II, and III were about - and also managed to discuss at great length the different philosophers and writers responsible for the backbone of the constitution. By the time class ended today I had, in fact, several fantasies wrapped around my teacher. Stories like him bending me over one of the little desks after class and reciting the entire preamble to the constitution while he fucked me silly - or convincing me that giving him oral sex while studying the ammendments would make them “stick” better.

It’s going to be an interesting summer at college.

I started off my morning yesterday with the long call from my foot/butt friend. That doesn’t sound quite right - but I’m sure “he” knows what I’m referring to. And I promise I will send the pictures of the butt you so desperately need to see, hon. This afternoon when I got back from class guess who was waiting for me. (!!!) Yup - my new friend 2 n’s. And remember that 2 n’s happens to know a bit about this writing thing, too. I won’t disclose too much… but he knows a little somethin’ about a little somethin’. (wink). Keeping in mind that writers make me horny - we had a great time together. Laughed and drank in all the little details of a kinky fantasy - and even made peace with the little “one minute remaining” lady in the process. Thanks to the two of you for the great long calls (that would be 2 n’s and foot/butt - not 2 n’s and the 2 minute remaining lady!) - and also a great big thanks to Chris who found me up this morning and thought to give me a ring (and cum) before leaving for work. I was a bit worried that with my school schedule this summer and added hours at the gym that I wouldn’t have as much time to play on the phone. Perhaps all that worrying was a waste of energy, hmm?

Just a heads up for this weekend:

I will be out this evening. I have work and then I need to handle a birthday. Haven’t quite decided if I will be part of the present or the cake and icecream that follows. I have to wake up at about this same time tomorrow (Saturday AM) to go to work at the gym - and will be returning in the afternoon. I’ll be going to bed. Maybe for the first time since Thursday Evening. We’ll see. But I will log on late late tonight (Saturday morning) if time allows - Late Late Saturday Evening (cuz I’ll be sleeping earlier, remember?) and then I’ll be available Sunday Evening like usual… If there are times where you believe I am conscious shoot me an email and if I’m around I can log on for ya - but I’m not going to promise anything - fair?

So in summary: Friday: Off for the remainder of the night more than likely Sat: 10:00PM (pst) or later until I pass out… probably sometime around 4:00AM Sunday Morning. Sunday Afternoon - off and on … Monday early early morning: 12:00AM (that’s midnight Saturday PST…) till about 4:00AM…give or take an hour. *wink*

Smoochies on top of smoochies!

oh - and one last thing… thanks to my very bestest friend in the whole wide enormous world - Tashia - for fixing my wordpress for me yesterday. I had no idea what had happened - and she fixed it with in 5 minutes. She’s a brain. And thanks prematurely for the fantastic redesign you’re going to do for me on the blog and my listings! I can’t wait!!!

Now that my big bad final is out of the way - and I’m free for about 2 days - Ihave been soaking up all kinds of television that I wasn’t able to indulge in … wait. Why am I lying? I’ve been watching tv - and doing all nighters since the beginning of my classes! But since everyone was away this weekend (I had to stay back cuz of the big bad Final! grrrr) I got to sit around in my panties and watch BAD tv. Really bad tv. Like - the biggest hollywood feuds, and the naughtiest bad girls, and coyote ugly marathon, and… (drum roll please) Maxim’s Top 100 - Most Beautiful Women. *sigh* *double sigh* *triple sigh with drool on the side*!!!! I love looking at beautiful women. I really do. I feel bad for men who can’t look at beautiful men with the same freedom as we women can look at beautiful women. Seriously. I just love looking at a beautiful girl. I’m MOST appreciative - and feel no sense of jealousy or anything ridiculous as that. Maybe it’s confidence - maybe it’s just … I dunno … maturity? (haha). I have only had a few moments of jealousy about pretty women in my life - and that usually happens when a guy is going on and on about a particular kind of woman that I’m not. Like if a guy was going to be talking about his fascination with tall women who played basketball or something - and I was so not that type. I’d start to wonder if maybe he should just go and find himself someone from a woman’s basketball team and stop fucking me, ya know? And yeah - I’ve been with guys who do that. Maybe not aobut a woman who is tall and plays basketball - but more like a woman who has big titties and a huge ass or something.

So anyways - back to Maxim.

I was watching it and all of a sudden - they show right off the bat - number 100. I about came. This woman was so damn beautiful it made my heart just hurt. I kept backing up the dvr on the satellite just so I could stare at her. Luscious lips. Great hair. Olive complexion. Nice boobies. Sweet - almost nerdy demeanor. Incredibly intelligent - I mean I think this girl speaks like 10 languages or something. And she can write in Arabic. Talk about TALENTED!!! (pitter pat pitter pat). I mean - just look at her: OMG! Lawdy lord gawd Almighty! Her name is Noureen DeWulf - and according to Maxim Magazine - she is number 100 of the most beautiful women in … well - I guess in the entire US of A. So I was interested, of course. If she was 100 - then who in the hell was NUMBER UNO? I had to stick around and find out, Didn’t I?!?!

What a disappointment. They didn’t go thru all of them - but they focused on a few. You can always go to Maxim and look at the list yourself, of course - but I find that it is my duty to share with you the news straight away. According to Maxim - LINDSAY LOHAN is the most beautiful woman in the United States Of America. Now in the picture she looks pretty good. But THE MOST BEAUTIFUL? More beautiful than number 100? Come on! I know we all love teens (waves from her desk) - but come on! Has MAXIM lost their damn minds? There are so many more beautiful women in the world other than Lindsay Lohan! Jeez Louise. I’m still upset. I sat and waited for an hour for … LINDSAY LOHAN. I don’t hate the girl. I really don’t. I hate Paris Hilton. Ok. I don’t even hate Paris - she just annoys me. I don’t even hate Lindsay. She doesn’t annoy me - other than her drinking and her hanging out with the wrong crowd and her lack of acting ability. I think she’s probably a nice girl. She needs to stop singing. But she’s okay. I like her fine. But I don’t think she’s more beautiful than … let’s say… Kim Kardashian. Do You?

I thought that I would have the energy to put up my top 10 pretty women in the world - but I just don’t have it in me right now. I’m just annoyed. (lol! I take things way too seriously, right?). Maybe later on I will. I don’t know.

So as not to be a hater - let me just say CONGRATS Lindsay! You’re a fine looking young woman - that I wouldn’t mind fucking with a dildo or two while pulling your hair and calling you “fire crotch”. I’d even invite you to a party or two - but you need to stay away from the booze - and the karaoke machine. I love you, though. Muahz!

I think that I would like to be a talk show host - a radio personality, maybe. I’d have an open forum - a sex type program. I’d take calls from wives, husbands, boyfriends and girlfriends, and we would discuss fantasies and how best to “deal” with them. We’d talk about the origins of their fantasies - and talk about how realistic it would be to have a safe playing out of those fantasies - with either a professional or a mate/spouse/girlfriend/boyfriend/bootycall. I think this would be an absolute BLAST.

Maybe I’ll make a “other” category and offer this on NF. Not a confessional type of listing - but a realistic I have this type of fantasy and want some advice on how best to live with this type of fantasy. Because I realize that there are some fantasies that just beg to be played out - and doesn’t everyone want to know that there is a safe avenue to explore such fantasies?

I’ve always enjoyed thinking about the origins of some fantasies. I know that there are the obvious ones - the preferences that people hold when it comes to choosing their mate/or fuck buddy or whatever. I’m not talking about that type of “fantasy”. I’m talking about the fantasies that lately people have been calling me about. The sissification type fantasies - the being caught doing something wrong - and punished by dressing you up and sending you out into the mall type fantasy. Or the humiliation - or even the very limited physical punishment type fantasies. Don’t you ever wonder where it came from? Those thoughts or ideas or whatever? And when you figure them out - I mean - REALLY trace them back like someone does with a swab of DNA collected inside a cheek - doesn’t it all make total sense and feel sort of - I don’t know - FREEING?

I don’t think that people need to be afraid of these fantasies anymore. I don’t think that it has to be this bad thing you carry around like some … bright red letter glued to your backside. Unless that is your thing, of course. *wink*.

When I was younger, someone I looked up to - a friend of my very best friend at the time, actually, told me that he wanted to “protect” me. He went on and on about how intelligent I was - and how special I was - and how pretty I was. He absolutely adored me - and I could tell - even when I hadn’t quite put the words to that type of … attention. He often would expose himself to me - but continue talking to me like he hadn’t done anything wrong. I would feel torn. I would want to look - but would glance away - and try to continue our conversation. Often times when I looked up from his penis that was just hanging out for the world and CeCe to see, he would look at me like, “aha! I caught you.” but he NEVER let on that he really caught me for reals. I started to make sure that I would be alone with him for these types of games to continue. And they did.

Another situation and another adult later: My father had an associate pastor of his church. We would have over night retreats where we would go to colleges and things. There were always lots of talks - varying from cults, to sexual awareness, to eating disorders, to … picking the right college (of course!). We would sleep in church basements - all of us kids - boys and girls - and our “chaperones”. This associate would often come over to our sleeping bags and give us little backrubs - and eventually his hands would venture to the sides of our bodies where he would “accidently” brush up against our breasts. I still remember the feel of his breath on my cheek - coming out in little gasps/spurts of moist warm air. After he left he would always “apologize” - say that he couldn’t help himself and somehow always insinuate that we had led him to do it because of how sweet we were - or whatever. He would ask us for our forgiveness - but it always felt to me as though I had been partially responsible. I was not scared - of him. I was scared more about what type of power I had over these men - and what would happen if I didn’t find some way to bottle it up or tame it or whatever.

So flash forward to today. Is it any surprise that I enjoy fantasies about my older sister’s boyfriend who I “seduce” and who later apologizes but always in a way as to suggest I “made him do it”? Is it any wonder that I have some of my best orgasms while thinking of a righteous holy person suddenly giving up the fight of celebacy and fucking me furiously? Is it any wonder that I enjoy fantasies where men expose themselves to me all the while acting like they aren’t showing me anything - while their penis’ jut out from under their robe? And wouldn’t it just make sex that much more enjoyable if I had the ability to talk to my mate about these types of fantasies - or have encounters where I could play them out in a safe, responsible way? Or even if I acted on impulses where these situations “arose”?

I don’t have a radio show - and I doubt that I ever will. I don’t think that such a show could even be aired, really, with out major panic breaking out and the thought police coming to shut me down and haul me off to jail - but I like to think that my little account on NF is my contribution to freedom. *shrugs*. I don’t always have a chance to talk about my own little fetishes - but I know a few of my callers (and a few of the new ones I’ve had lately) know when they have struck a chord with me. Their fantasies are the ones I “run” with - their fantasies are the ones that move me - and make it enjoyable to me - and cause me to not be a “victim” of whatever circumstance they put me in - but an active and willing (at least deep down inside!) actress in their play. Their fantasies are the ones that “get me off” - not only physically but mentally as well.

I hope that I continue to get new callers who are able to see that difference in me - and push me to accept and participate in new roles…and I’m continually grateful that my repeat customers are ones that do this automatically - probably with out thinking/knowing about my hidden kinks. I hope that my small price of 1.80 doesn’t deter someone from taking a moment to talk to me about the history of their own fetishes and fantasies. I really want to know. It helps me understand mine that much clearer. It’s not a prerequisite to calling me - but it is a gift when it happens - when it exposes itself … and I glance down for a moment to look and take it in - before continuing on and act like I didn’t see a thing.

Have a safe a memorable holiday. I shall be around after my final on Saturday for the entire weekend including Monday.

I have a few minutes - So I’d like to offer my unsolicited opinion on a few newsworthy items:

• Paris Hilton - I think she’s disgusting. She evokes all kinds of nasty verbage from my throat - like SLUT - and TRAMP - and anorexic foul mouthed spoiled bitch. (somehow that made me feel a bit like my name was pot and I was calling the kettle black…)
  I’m sorry that she is so damn spoiled that she can’t read the note that says YOU CAN’T DRIVE BIATCH - so maybe since she is so spoiled that she can’t read her own judgements - she can now go to jail and learn to read the sign above her bunk that tells her that Helga down the block wants her tiny ass for breakfast. And while we’re at it - don’t think for a moment that even though Paris and her sex tapes and smelly c..t muscle gives me the creeps - I still don’t mind having the fantasy that many American Men probably share with me - and that is - a nice prison guard shoving his nightstick thru the bars and up her little hole while she sucks off Helga’s strap on shlong. Yea, I went there. Shocked?
• David H. from Bay Watch - Damn damn damn. I know booze is from the devil when you’re eating your (what looks like) In and Out burger off the bathroom floor while your 14 year old daughter tapes you. Before I go kinky here - let me just make it abundantly clear to all who read that having your daughter take responsibility for your fucked up ness is just not a good idea. It just isn’t. If you don’t want to drink - then maybe you should have cameras up in your house recording you 24/7 - and then when you fall off your little red bay watch wagon - the cameras will already be there in force to record you. Why make your daughter responsible to do it? She’s too young to be your savior - and you should really be the adult here. Everyone else can sit and moan about how bad drinking is and how you know you have a problem when blah blah blah - but I’m concerned about the role you put your little daughter in. Shame on you Mr. H from Baywatch. Running along the beach in slo motion didn’t teach you a damn thing about fatherhood, I see. So yeah. Taping an older man and using that against him in order to get whatever I want …. that fantasy has been playing on repeat in my mind since this whole story aired. Uff dah.
• Alec Baldwin. Or is it ALEX? Whichever/whomever/whatever. You’re gonna get irrate at you and Kim’s seed and yell all kinds of stupid shit about teaching her a lesson and her being a pig, was it? Are you serious, Mr. Baldwin? Now you know I love you. I happen to think you’re pretty hot. And as disgusted as I was about you yelling at your daughter on the phone - um… it did make me a bit hot at the same time. And I don’t play submissive well. But let’s back up a moment: You left it on a tape for the world (Itube) to listen in on. You’re an actor. Don’t you realize the power (by now) of film and audio and how timeless it all is? Then you go on the view and sit next to Rosie and the other not so important chicks and you think that their maternal instincts is gonna make it all better for you? You’re sitting next to the answer to your problems, Mr. B. and you don’t even realize it. Yes - Rosie. She’s not really all that attractive, really, right? Kinda cute and has a GREAT personality. She’s funny (which you should enjoy) and though she doesn’t spread food around her body like good ole Kim - I’m sure she enjoys a great meal from time to time. Look at her. LOOK AT HER!!!! You should have married someone like Rosie. Because obviously you can have no sense when it comes to attractive sexy women. If you had married someone a bit more … NORMAL looking - then you probably wouldn’t be getting all psycho on your daughter that you share with good ole Kim B. You married the most beautiful woman in the whole universe really - and married a woman that all kinds of men were beating off to daily - and this is where it got you. Insanely angry and bitter and alone. Marry yourself a normal girl who will take care of you - and then spend some of your hard earned money calling some of the “kim b’s” on niteflirt for your little fix. There is truth to the song, “If you want to be happy for the rest of your life…” Think about it. The kink factor? I have my fantasies of fucking a man who has “settled” right along with every other attractive girl like me. For a shopping spree every now and then I might even let you say naughty things to me on my answering machine……..

I feel much better having gotten that off my chest…. Forgive me for being so politically incorrect. or don’t.

Sometimes the women I train at the gym are absolute drama queen bitches. I mean that affectionately. I love women -or I should say - I love OLDER women. Women that are around my age are extremely … catty and competitive. But I find that women around 30-60 are pretty relaxed and know that I’m pretty much not a threat to them. Unless their husbands are calling up niteflirt, that is. Then it might be a completely different story. But for the sake of my post - let’s say that their husbands are NOT on my customer list.

My job is to help motivate them (the women at the gym not their husbands). We talk about things that really make us happy inside. We may bitch and moan about diet and fads and the latest what shouldn’t you eat because you’ll die food item - but secretly we are getting moist in our little yoga pants. Trust me on this. Nothing makes a woman happier than talking about food and diets. Try it out next time you’re on a date.

Tonight was like any other nite. I was working by myself in the circuit area - and I was helping a few ladies train. It’s up to me to know instantly what is good for abdominal core work (planks planks planks!) and what can I do about strengthening my thighs? (squats squats squats) and CeCe - I have a lot of pain in my lower back … what can I do to help myself out here? (CORE CORE CORE). Most of the women are really quite sweet though - and honestly just need a little ass kicking to get them moving. It’s up to me then - to move with them. This usually means in a 4 hour shift I’ve done about 50 planks, 100 squats (stationary and weighted ones) - 200 lunges - and I don’t know - a trillion and a half fricken abdominal work outs. Hey - I have to lead by example, don’t I?

As I was leading a rather chatty woman thru her advance work out - a few ladies decided to talk about an incident that had happened at a local school. Apparently there is a … predator on the loose. He has a rather unique approach as well. Talking to the girls about crime watches and needing their help identifying potential drug lords in the area or something. Pretty damn original - but kinda scary outside of the scope of NF and fantasy play. (watches some of her callers writing down the scenario). Ok. So seriously…it kind of freaked me out - even though I was trying to (of course) find an angle that would work, too. I’m not gonna lie. Ok - but THENNNN… a few of the ladies started to freak me out. Told me that in the very area that I work there were a few reported rapes - and that I shouldn’t be walking to my car alone that evening. Alrighty then. I started to freak out. They went into detail - and I won’t supply it here - I just can’t do it. but it just so happened that my parents went out of town this weekend - and gave me explicit instructions to lock up - sleep in the main bedroom - let the dog out of the crate - loc the doors but leave the lights on - etc. etc. All of these instructions came flying back to me while the ladies went on and on about the horrid crimes that had been going on in the area.

Why do women find the need to do this? I mean - they know I’m just a sweet little thing that couldn’t really hurt a fly physically - anyways - and they are going to throw this at me in the middle of the evening? Just bitchy drama queens, I swear. I just stood there counting off the reps and staring at this lady like - “what the ffffffff??!!” while she was talking. She sort of caught herself - and said something lame-o like, “Oh, CeCe - you’ll be fine. You are parked next to the door, right?” No you mean bitter old woman - I am parked on the other side of the huge parking lot under the light that has been out for the past decade - thankyouverymuch!

Now - I had alot of homework to do last night. And thankfully I have lots of people I can call to help me with homework. LOL. But after my tutor did his duty and abandoned me - and after one of my best friends zonked out, too - I found myself - ALONE. (dum dum duuuuuuuum)

It is now about 4:40AM - and I’ve purposely stayed on as long as possible. I’m not sleeping tonight - because I’m sure that when I do some maniac is going to bust into my house - feed the so not a watch dog Willis a chicken wing or something - go to the Master Bed room and …

I couldn’t sleep under such conditions. I just couldn’t.

I’ll sleep later after school. Speaking of which - I have about 10 more pages to read of my Anthropology before 7:30AM - so I better get going. I do need to stop at Starbucks for the largest possible coffee ever, too - or I’ll never stay awake for the 8 hours that is required of me at school. Wish me luck.

Oh - and I’ll be up again all nite (after I sleep all day) tomorrow. My parents aren’t going to be back until later Sunday. I sure hope they don’t feel guilty when they come home to find me missing or …

I’m teasing. I’m sure I’ll be fine…

But I am just a tad bit freaked out.