Ugh. Insomnia sucks.
But while I was awake, I thought I’d get a head start on my blog entry for the day. I know – shocking, huh?
Don’t get too excited, it will be a quick one (insert various appropriate comments here).

So I just announced on twitter that I’ll be doing something for 40 days straight. I already want to quit and I haven’t even lasted a day yet. Don’t ask me why 40 came to mind, it just sounded like a nice number. We’ll see how it goes, but I’ll probably do 40 more after a little bit of a break. You all can feel free to guess what I might be doing for 40 days straight. Masturbating? Math? Mayhem? Abstinence? Aerobics? Anal? Had to throw some sexual things in there to keep your interest.

I’m not sure if this is the time or place to mention this, but … (I pretty much know it’s not the right time, but I lost track of my censor 4 hours ago when I should have been asleep. In its place is this now grouchy no filter bitch. My apologies. Before I go there though – Merry Christmas! How were your Holidays?)

My callers have spoiled me. I’ve been on line now for … a few weeks (I AM only 18, you know!) and in that time I’ve acquired some pretty special callers. Namely 2. Ok, 3. And those 3 callers have spoiled me rotten. They usually ask me how I am doing. They always introduce themselves to me, even though I know their voices by heart, they know my secret kinks and collect them in little journals under their pillows, eager to expose me should our relationship take a turn for the worst. I kid. But they do know my secrets. They always say hello – and most of the time say goodbye (some of us have an understanding, unspoken, that should they get cut off during the happy ending, they don’t need to add time to say goodbye. Come on, that would just be silly!). Some of my newer callers lately have found themselves on the other side of my block button. And I NEVER block. But if you happen to be reading this, and you can’t get through to your favorite teen anymore (and really, if you’re reading this, you haven’t been blocked. You know how that goes; the people that need to hear things don’t, and the ones who don’t need to hear all of this will call me, worried that I’m upset with them when they are the “3″ I spoke of earlier. Ok, it’s more like 20. 20 regulars), then more than likely you’ve done one of the following, or in many cases, a combination of 2-3 of these things:

1. Hung up on me after 2 minutes – leaving me to wonder, “Was it something I said?”
2. Called and demanded, quite rudely, that I moan for you, with no “lead up” or introduction. While I realize I work for a service, and you are a customer, you would never walk into a classy restaurant, seat yourself, pat your belly and order the waitperson to give you “some food” with out specifying what you’d like. Ok, maybe you might, but then you might also enjoy people spitting in your food, as I’m sure they would if you ever did something like that in a restaurant
3. Called and said nothing, or whispered so low I couldn’t understand a word you were saying

Now, so this post isn’t totally negative and bitchy, let me explain a few things that will make our calls pleasant for both of us, keeping you off my blocked list.

1. Introduce yourself. Contrary to popular belief, I can not see who is calling me. Your user name does not come up on the screen, so I really don’t know who you are, unless you call frequently – and even then, sometimes it takes me a minute to register who you are. I know. Unforgivable and ego-deflating. By introducing yourself to me, however, I usually can figure out what you like and immediately go into the role play, eliminating potentially awkward moments when you try to tell me how pink ruffled panties draped over your face while watching Happy Days turns you on. Or whatever.
2. Note I said usually. Sometimes I don’t remember callers from week to week. I get a lot of calls, and sometimes just hearing a name doesn’t register with me what kinds of calls we do together. If you’re a regular of mine, then I usually know you and your fantasies right away, but if you’re fairly new to me and we only speak sporadically, then please forgive me when I ask you what we talked about last time.
3. If you keep in mind a few favorite fantasies of mine, that would be going above and beyond the call of duty. But if you want a really great call with me, just mention a babysitter movie you’ve seen lately, or ask me if I’ve gone to confession. ESPECIALLY if you want me to moan or if you want me to be horny. Just hearing the phone ring doesn’t do it for me (I know, I know. So disappointing!). I don’t typically sit around and watch dirty movies and play with myself. When I do, you all are asleep. Trust me. (I just watched a really hot movie 30 minutes ago and none of you called and asked me if I was horny!)
4. I am well known for my realistic fantasies and role plays. So, please feel free to send me an email and let me know ahead of time what you’re looking for and if I’ll indulge you in the fantasy. Anything really does go. Most of the time. Even if there’s something that I won’t do, I will never make you feel horrible for suggesting it. Ask around (okay – you can’t ask…just read my feedback!) I’m pretty open minded and I have a few nasty things running amuck in my head, too. I will never judge you. There just might be some things I seriously can’t get excited about. I’ve only ran across ONE call in the past …um … 3 months I’ve been working as a phone sex operator (haha!) that I’ve had to decline. If you email me and call me to let me know to read the email before you call back, I’ll totally comp you that 1 minute it took to tell me to read my email.

I think that just about covers it.

I’m still not sleepy.

I hope this didn’t come across as bitchy/whiny/or complaining too much. I’ve just noticed myself getting a bit grumpy lately, and thought it might be wise for me to get this off of my 34B chest. Before things got ugly.
I’ll write a properly nice post later. I know you don’t believe me, since it’s been months since my last post. So, won’t you be surprised when there actually is another post and I’m more pleasant?

I’m up until I fall asleep. If you call and I see I’ve missed your call (there are ways to tell, you know. Niteflirt totally documents all my missed calls!), then I will comp you a few minutes for your trouble. I did something similar for a while last year as encouragement for you all to call. I realize it can be quite disappointing when your cock is in your hand and your favorite teen with braces isn’t picking up her damn phone. What a rude, insolent girl!

Talk soon my cuppy cake yum yum apples of my eye!

I hate to be the one to do it, but for the sake of all phone sex operators/entertainers/fantasy enhances/(insert own personal choice of titles here) – it needs to be said. 

*ahem*

Just because a woman CAN have multiple orgasms, does NOT mean that she wants to have 20.  To be more specific, just because this woman can have multiple orgasms, does NOT mean that I am comfortable having 5.  To make this easier to digest, I will break down my argument into 3 main issues: Energy, Pleasure, and Pain.  I think that about covers the topics.  Although there may be more, these are the ones top on my list.

1. Energy.
1. Cumming takes energy.
2. Energy requires energy.
3. When a person creates energy by putting forth energy, exhaustion will occur. 
4. Successive orgasms with no recovery time while pretty in movies and intriguing by men who are largely unable to achieve multiple orgasms, is exhausting.
2. Pleasure.
1. Pleasure feels good.
2. When a man can make a woman feel good, it will result in the man feeling a certain amount of pleasure.
3. Unless he’s a selfish ass and then he’s probably not reading this because he’s never made a woman cum out of his own self centered need to achieve an orgasm as quickly as possible so he can roll over and go to bed.
4. You can actually get too much of a good thing.
5. I realized this when I ate 1/4 pound of peach candies in one sitting.
6. the first 20 pieces were delicious, and then it just got painful.
7. a few orgasms is lovely, but after 5 or 6 orgasms, discomfort will be a result. This is especially true if one is using the Hitachi Wand.
8. Energy creates heat (See Einstein’s whole theory on relativity).
9. A clitoris bursting into flames could be the result of too much of a good thing turned very bad and, I’m guessing, this would be extremely unpleasant.
3. Pain.
1. Have you ever had an itch in the middle of your back that you couldn’t reach?
2. Then you find the right stick (or fork or fingernails of a friend, parent or lover)  and you ask them to scratch your itch for you…
3. And at first you just move around like some cat in heat because it feels so fucking good.
4. But then they just stay on that one spot, and they start to go harder and you try to move away from them…
5. But they are kind of dense, and they keep up with it until finally your itch is gone, and in its place is a hole where your back use to be?
6. Yeah.  I believe I’ve made my point.

So dear caller.  I love the fact that “you” delight in my orgasms.  When I tell you that I’m cumming, please take pleasure in knowing you are responsible for the great response (well, and Hitachi wand, of course!) If you want me to have a second – ask me if I’m ready or if I need a bit of a break.  I will tell you honestly how it is.  When I say something like … “ouchie” – that usually means that smoke is beginning to come off of my clit and I need a bit of a break.  I’m not being cute.  If you wonder if I’ve reached orgasm (sometimes I have to be a bit quiet…sorry – sucks living at home!), please don’t hesitate to ask me.  If you need me to tell you “I’m cumming” – I will be more than willing to do so.  Please – for the love of my clitoris and all that is holy, when I tell you I can not cum anymore, don’t consider that a challenge.  It’s not.  I mean I. CAN. NOT. PHYSICALLY. CUM. ANYMORE. WITH OUT. DOING. DAMAGE. TO. MY. WOMANHOOD! 

This blog post is my own personal opinion and I do not intend to speak for every other woman in the entire universe.  The specific details may be different (maybe SarahICanCumFiftyTimeswhileSquirting can cum 50 times with out setting her clit on fire…) but I assure you that all women do have limits on how many times they are able to cum with out experiencing discomfort.  The clit, like the penis, becomes very sensitive after arousal and should be handled with care.  Thank you and goodnight.

It’s the force of the music as it drives through loud speakers.

It’s my eyes focused and almost not looking at the instructor who urges the class forward.

It’s the sound of exhausted grunts, pleading sighs, and faint "oh God’s" that respond to the request to turn up our tension.

Occasionally I scream — not a scream out of some horror flick but some "wooo hoooo!" sort of call to announce the adrenalin bursting out of the newly elated and overjoyed me.

There are towels beneath my bike soaking up the droplets of sweat pouring off of me – baptizing the floor.

At some point I become aware of the seat beneath me.  I squeeze the saddle with inner thighs while I climb Mount Everest, and the curve of the seat slaps against my buttocks reminding me that rest is going to come.

Sweat seems erotic during the hour.  It carves little paths along the most fit bikers in the class, outlining muscles and curves and dips.  It completely ruins hairdos; leaving pony tails limp and wet and plasters bangs against foreheads wrinkled in concentration and exertion.  I notice my own sweat – soaking through the neck of my T-shirt, slowly moving down the spine of my back to the waist band of my panties. down the thong occupied crack of my ass.  My thighs sweat, my arms sweat, my shins sweat. I’m wet.

When we’re allowed to peddle a bit and sit straight up in our saddles, I shift slightly and lean back so that the saddle doesn’t rub against my inner lips. I guzzle down water – tempted to pour it over me and shake my head back and forth like the guys do in the Just Do It commercials. 

Do you ever just want to fuck someone after you’re done at the gym, I ask  the only one I can.

"Hell, yes!" He replies with an excruciatingly silent "No Shit!". I breathe a sigh of relief. Sometimes I worry that I forcibly knit sex into every fiber of my life which yields some crappy, artificial penthouse letter blanket.

The truth is that during a particular groove filled song I lean a bit forward and rock a little back and forth and though I don’t cum – the feeling of the sudden burst of energy combined with the sweat and grunts and heat and music and throbbing and pushing and driven beats to the ultimate goal makes me feel like I could …

I just might …

I kind of would if it were at all possible to do with out falling from the platform onto the cold hard sweaty tile floor…

cum.

 

I don’t creatively write as much as I’d like…but tonight I felt inspired to put it into words in a way that even the most exercise weary person could get excited about.    Thank you for indulging me.  I’m going to bed but will be logging in tomorrow once again … probably a little bit in the afternoon and then I’ll come back on late at night.  I think I’ll even blog again (watches her readers faint one by one… lol!) and give an update of my week OTHER than the gym.  I know. It’s truly amazing and brings a tear to my eye, too! 

Have a great evening/morning/weekend!

I could use a massage.  A deep tissue – God I’m going to weep – Will you please marry me and father my children – Oh God It Hurts So Fuckin Good – Massage.  It has been a long time since I felt like this.  I get tired from working out at the gym – but I rarely get that deep sore feeling.  I feel it in my hips, butt, and muscles that I didn’t realize were even part of the anatomy of humans.  And I’m going back to spin tomorrow.

Listen, it’s not my fault.  I could stop if I wanted to.  I just don’t want to right now.  I was minding my own business when my cousin asked me if I was going to go to spin again tomorrow.  I suddenly thought to myself – wait a second – if I don’t go she’ll go and she’ll get the "burn" with out me and I’ll be jealous.  Before I could stop myself I said yes. And that, my friends, is the final step to my addiction.

Don’t worry.  I’ll be fine.  I’m more complaining just to complain and draw attention to the fact that I hurt.  But I signed up for it.  I knew that on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays I would be spinning and then about 7 hours later returning back to the scene of the crimes and having the nazi trainer kick my ass.  I knew this – and yet I continued on.  My reasoning?  I need to get cardio in somehow.  So why not?  Just a second, my arms are telling me the many reasons why not…

The good news is: I haven’t felt better.  I really have not.  I think since the moment I stopped smoking I have been funky inside.  Just feeling kind of blecky and not quite right.  I definitely feel a big difference and much more myself now after the gym. I know I get a bit obsessive about certain things and I’ll try to even things out a bit by next week, I promise.  I know I’m all jock heavy right now and you’re all wondering if I’m planning on beefing up and competing for the title of most outrageous muscles on a girl type contest.  I totally don’t want buff – I want the slight jiggle I gained when I stopped smoking to tone up under my arm right there.  I want the little back fat pocket right there to go away and never return.  I want a firmer ass and more toned arms. More than that, I want to be able to run on the treadmill one day just cuz I can, I want my endurance to carry me further than I thought it could.  I want to be able to fill my lungs up with air and not start coughing from asthma or left over tar in my getting pinker by the day lungs. I want to beat my trainer in planks on Friday.  Today I held mine for 1 minute 30 seconds.  My goal is 2 minutes. I’m gonna beat her ass and make her cry on Friday.  Yeah.  (no – there aren’t tickets available or audio quite yet…)

I just got done reading about cigarettes – and as much as I told myself I wouldn’t be one of those ex smokers who lectured people about smoking, I’m about to be. Yeah Yeah Yeah – I know your erection just took a nose dive – but seriously – nicotine makes your dick go limp quicker anyway – so those smokers who are reading this won’t mind the familiar.   This is all I’m going to say though about it.  I really liked smoking.  I wish I could do it and not get sick and have lungs that worked right and not increase my chances of cancer, but unfortunately I can’t.  So listen up all my callers that are smokers:  If you can honestly tell me that you’ll quit this year, I will give you a free relaxation mp3 that could (it hasn’t been tested so I’m not making any claims! lol) help you relax and refocus and not freak out.  I can (and Tiffy can, too – along with all the other clients I have who stopped smoking…) provide you with lots of information and cheer you on and give you incentives (like the dick that stays harder longer isn’t incentive enough???!!!). The thing is: I’m going to be that kind of ex smoker that everyone hates.  I’m going to be this cheer leader for going to the gym, working out at home, getting some exercise (to the best of your physical ability…) and quitting all those nasty little habits like cigarettes.  Masturbate instead.  I mean it.  Keep your hands busy.  If you are interested in joining the smokefree dreamers (I’ve lost my mind…) then email me on NF or at celinawetdreams at gmail dot com and I will send you a form to fill out (a friendly contract that will hold up in any court of CeCe!) and we will start our make over.  Your family will thank you — and I’m pretty sure it has something to do with global warming because EVERYTHING causes global warming!

That’s all I got for you today.  I’m exhausted and I have some things I still need to work on before I have to go to sleep and do this all over again tomorrow.  I’m taking a nap tomorrow though.  Fuck it.  My day off from the gym is Tuesday – and (sobs) Tuesday was just a few days ago which means I have a whole lotta pain to endure before my next break.  I will (I promise) log in tomorrow.  Probably afternoon.  I have to go to my writing class in the evening (remember?) so I won’t be logging in late that nite.  I WILL be logging in during the day on Friday because I have no social life basically and working out makes me horny.  It really does. I haven’t thought about fucking so much since I found the hitachi wand and named him.

Talk to you soon!

I have a very good friend – best really – who I occasionally live vicariously through. She has that type of life I always envisioned myself having in a few years: the hubby, the kids, a nice home in NYC, and every Christmas a tree that Martha Stewart would envy. A lot older and wiser than I am, she often gives me tidbits of advise that I gobble up like… I dunno … Skittles that have been sitting in your hand a little too long and have become soft and just a tad bit warm. Shit… that sounds kinda good.

Anyways – my friend, who I shall not name but anyone who knows me knows whom I am speaking, calls me up one day and is way upset. When she gets excited/mad her voice always raises up 2 more octaves and she sounds even more like Minnie Mouse with a ‘tude from the Bronx. It’s adorable.

“CeCe! He’s doing it again!”

“huh?” I ask – immediately turning down the volume on my phone to compensate for the volume of my friend. I turn it down to 5 and then after a moment turn it down to a two. It’s definitely sounding like a two volume conversation.

“He’s humping his pillow.”

“Ok – well … I guess these things happen.” I tell her in my most authorative voice. I remember reading something in Human Sexuality Class about masturbation in children – but not sure exactly what I read. Was it bad? Normal? A sign of something to come? (no pun intended)

“He’s doing it in the open in front of everyone.”

“Well… ok. Well that’s not so good then.” I say delicately while holding back my laughter.

“It’s not funny!”

Busted. “Ok – well – maybe you should just tell him to go into his room and do it.” I have no idea what the hell I’m talking about really. But I know my friend and she is upset. She probably said some things to her son that will forever scar him and I’m trying my best to do intervention with out sounding like I’m a know-it-all because I know nothing at this point. I’m not a Mom. Or I wasn’t then.

“I fuckin’ told him to stop fuckin his pillow!” My friend exploded. “His sister started laughing at him and told him he was gross.”

“But…” I interrupted passionately “He’ll get a damn complex! Do you want him calling up those lines and talking to a Mistress who will make fun of his thingee because that’s the only way he will be able to get off and it will all be because you made him feel ashamed of what is just natural?”

“Shut up, Ce!”

I could hear her softening on the other end and I continued carefully, “Masturbation is natural and it relieves stress! He just needs to do it in a more appropriate place. Can’t his daddy talk to him about it?”

“Shiiiiit” My friend sighed. It was a defeated “shit” though. Her anger was subsiding. “Maybe I should take his pillow away from him.” She considered.

“He’ll just find something else – and then he’ll learn to hide it and be ashamed of what he is doing instead of understanding there isn’t anything wrong with masturbating – he just needs to find a private place to do it because not everyone wants to see that kind of thing or somethin’.”

I was sounding more and more like a child therapist as the conversation went on. My friend must have thought so too – because she told me she would consider my advise and try harder to not freak out when her little boy was masturbating against various stuffed things in the house.

Before I took away Jackson’s manhood he was providing me with a certain sick sort of entertainment. He would take various stuffed animals – attack them – grabbing bits of their soft furry flesh in his teeth and shake the victim back and forth while making growling noises. Once he was sure they were …um … tamed (?) he would mount various parts of their bodies and go to work. Remembering my earlier conversations with my friend I decided to casually move the stuffed animal ala Jackson to a secluded part of the living room and go about my business. He would eventually stop and move on to other activities. I spoke casually about it to the Vet, relieved that he wasn’t humping people’s legs or other dogs in the doggy park (such things carry a serious stigmatization that aren’t easily discarded!) The vet insisted that once Jackson had the operation
he wouldn’t feel the need to do that often/ever. I had hope. At 6 months Jackson had the surgery and after he stopped glaring at me and his stitches healed he was back to doing the humpy dumpy. He had his favorite mates; The Zebra – an old child hood friend he hung out with, a toy bunny that he also had since he was 8 weeks old. Not “had” in that sense. Then there was the huge stuffed dog that I bought because I thought it would be cute if my little tiny doggy cuddled with a stuffed animal 5 times his size. Jackson prefers humping one of his legs and basically doesn’t even do the post-coital thing with the dog. He’s a love em fuck em and leave em kinda dog – what can I say?

I dealt with Jackson’s horniness because it was well contained inside of the home. No one knew that behind his little furry face that housed the sweetest, loving eyes and mischievous grin, he actually was Ron Jeremy to the stuffed animals in the house. I swear I fond a few of them hiding, fearing the way he casually tossed the others to the side after he had had their way with them.

A few weeks ago something happened – something BIG – and I realized that something had to change. I had a big decision to make. Only I could make it for him. I was the adult, the Mommy – and I had to really take my role in Jackson’s life seriously or he would harm himself.

Jackson’s penis got stuck.

All I remember is that he was having his special time with Ms. Zebra and um … he stopped – sated – and went about his business. I don’t look down there all that often because it’s his privates you know? And he gets shy sometimes. But I did happen to notice that there was something there that was kinda stuck. It usually goes back after a few licks or whatever (sorry – it’s natural!) and so I didn’t really worry about it. *sigh* This is a NF friendly blog – so please read that last sentence as it was intended: JACKSON licks himself and it goes back. Thanks. As I was saying… I wasn’t worried. But the next day I saw that it was still kinda peeking out as if to say “Hi – where’s the Zebra bitch – I’m ready for round 2 DAWG!!!” I quelled my fears and went about my business. I took Jackson for a walk where we ran across (of course) the adoring public who immediately wanted to pet my dog until he rolled onto his back displaying for the whole world to see his little Jackson. “Hi…” it said. “Where’s my Zebra bitch?” Embarrassed and shamed I quickly escorted Jackson back home and headed towards Google.

“My Dog’s Penis is stuck – what do I do?” Come on. What did you think I typed in there?

Minutes later I knew what I needed to do. I had to wade through ALOT of advise too. Butter, Neosporin, to massage or not massage?, until I finally stumbled upon the one thing I knew I could do. I had to ice my dog’s um “balls”. Carrying Jackson to the kitchen I opened up the freezer and grabbed a few ice cubes. Grabbing some paper towel I placed the ice cubes in it and turned Jackson onto his back, cradling him in my arms. His tongue escaped to give me a quick kiss.

“You’re not going to wanna kiss me after this…” I muttered and gently applied the ice.

Jackson’s expression shifted from curiosity to absolute disgust. “I don’t have any balls, stupid.” I heard him say. So I shifted the ice cubes up a bit to the base of his …”Oh – you’re the meanest mommy alive!” his eyes screamed at me and he started to squirm and close his legs at the same time.

“You need to stop humpin the dry ass animals!” I told Jackson.

“Um – I make do with what I have you cruel heartless woman!” He replied.

Looking past the Brawny that was now mush I saw that Jackson’s thingee was still out saying hello to the world. Considering butter for a brief moment (didn’t know where the damn Neosporin was!) I set Jackson down on the floor to consider my other options. I could call the Vet in the morning and HE could put that thing back in. I could try to push it back in…eeeew. No. I could … ‘Damn’ I interrupted my own thoughts, ‘I can’t believe I fuckin was icing my dog’s dick!’ Ok – so – the vet. I’ll bring Jack to the vet!

“Jackson!” I screamed suddenly. “Don’t lick it it will NEVER GO BACK IN!” I Rushed to Jackson to pick him up and interrupt his masturbatory experience – but as I got closer I noticed… The thingee was back in. My nightmare was over. My baby was going to live another day! And most importantly – I didn’t have to take him in to the vet to get his penis put back in.

The very next day I knew what I needed to do. I picked up all his “girlfriends” threw them into the washing machine on delicate and put a bit of wool light in there to make things all nice and soft. Once they were all washed I placed them all on the picnic table in the backyard to dry. I was planning on packing them up after they were nice and dry and giving them to Jackson on “special” occasions. I figured he could have a date night and he could go at it for a bit and I would then pick up the girls and put them away until next time. *sigh* Once the girls were on the picnic table though, Jackson wouldn’t leave me alone. He would go to the table – look up at the nice pieces of ass that were laid out there – and cry, whine, claw at the table legs and attempt to jump up to get them. After hours of this I finally relented and gave him his pieces of ass warning him to not get anything stuck – I still hadn’t found the Neosporin and I wasn’t in the mood to ice his nether regions again. He ignored me and went to work. Luckily nothing got stuck. I kept an eye on things.

So my big decision still is upon me. Do I take away Jackson’s … um … girlfriends again? Do I take away the only thing that brings him pleasure? Do I rob him of his sexuality just as I robbed him of his balls? Shouldn’t a little white Doggy have a little bit of boom boom if he wants it? Who is he hurting? The zebra really isn’t complaining. But if I let him continue to hump dry ass stuffed animals, his penis may very well get stuck again. He’s sort of asking for it by not using any lubrication, don’t you think?

I haven’t made up my mind…and I’m open to suggestions. I really am. A parent needs to do what is in the best interest of their child, you know. I’m suppose to protect him from the harsh realities of life – which I assume means stuck penis’.

My momma definitely didn’t tell me there would be days like this!