Monday, April 30, 2012

The Basement




Elementary school years were spent growing up in a four story home.  There was the top floor, which housed the bedrooms and bathrooms.  The middle floor, elevated above ground by a few steps, contained the living room, dining room, kitchen and foyer with the main entryway.  The subbasement had a fourth bedroom, a bathroom, and a large family room. 

And then there was the deep basement.  

The deep basement is where my father would retreat with his radio, his beer, his peanuts and his workbench with tools of all kinds in a wonderful workshop.  There was a toy room where there were floor to ceiling shelves containing all our toys.  There was the laundry room with a huge washer and dryer (there were seven of us in the house, laundry was constant).  And in the center of it all was the post.  

The post was a round metal tube that extended from the center of the floor, by a drain pipe, to the ceiling.  It was painted brown.  It was always cold.  I am assuming it was a support of some sort to the house.

We had an older dog who would be incontinent sometimes, so if we were going to be gone for the day, my mom would chain the dog down in the basement to the post.  There was a dog bed there, nice and comfortable and warm with a blanket for her to nest in, a radio with music playing to soothe her, a water bowl and a bowl of dog food.  

Imagine my delight when, one day, I realized that the dog collar, still chained to the leash, which was still chained to the post, was the perfect fit for my neck.

This started a long love of spending hours in the basement.  I dreamed of being a captive to an evil king who kept me thrown in his dungeon, only being brought up to the bright world above to be beaten and used for his pleasure.  I didn't really know what sex was at such a young age but I knew that SOMETHING happened between a man and a woman and the thought of being kidnapped and having whatever the heck it was done against my will made for many hours of pleasurable escape.  

There were other fantasies, too.  Some of which actually were acted out in my later years.  More of that later.  

The day came when the dog collar no longer fit around my throat.  Luckily, I realized the collar would still fit around my ankle, although that was not as satisfying as the fit around my throat.  What is it about the delicate, tender, vulnerable throat, being the focal point of your bondage?  I still love wearing a collar to this day, and being leashed by it.  

After our vacation to Florida when I was ten years old, in the winter, my parents decided enough of the cold. We would move to Florida.  I was thrilled!  Ecstatic!  Jubilant!  I hated winter and because I had only been to Florida for two weeks and experienced balmy 78 degree sunshine every day, I thought Florida was always like that.  I couldn't wait to move.  I told all my friends and bid them farewell and gave them toys I didn't want to take to Florida.  

There was only one problem.

Florida is basically a sandbar.  There is something called the aquifer that runs all throughout Florida underground.  The water table is very low.  Meaning.....

There are no basements in 99% of Florida.

My beloved basement.  My beloved pole.  Gone.  Forever.

But it was worth it.  If we never moved to Florida, I never would have met Carn.


Sunday, April 29, 2012

Bondage Barbie and Kinky Ken






Lois, Stacy and Karen were the three girls who lived closest to my house when I was in elementary school.  We would occasionally get to together, either one on one, or rarer, more than two at a time.  They were all girlie girls, very feminine, and very much into the usual trappings of girlhood.  They played with dolls and dreamed of weddings and tried on their mother's pearls.


Out of all of them, I would have to say Lois was the most like me.  Meaning, different.


Lois and I would sneak around back to the furthest part of the property, behind the garage, and engage in sadistic play.  She would have me spread my legs and prod me with a tree branch.  Down there.  Especially "down there."  And if it was a really good day and if I was really lucky, she would tie my hands behind my back with her knee socks or a hair ribbon or whatever was around.  That just heightened everything.  The breeze across my legs, the blades of grass on the backs of my knees, the hem of my skirt brushing my thighs, the elastic bands in the underwear I was wearing...all enhanced, all screaming for attention.


I was scared of Lois.  But intrigued.  I always went behind the garage with her, wondering what she would do next to me.  I wonder whatever happened to her.  If she's out there somewhere, a kick ass dominatrix, I wouldn't be surprised.


Lois and Karen and Stacy dressed up Barbie in beautiful ball gowns and shoes and elaborate hairstyles.  Ken would marry Barbie and drive off in the pink convertible and live happily ever after. They would have 2.3 children and the most exciting thing in their lives would be having sex with the lights on.


Not in my doll sessions.  Ken would drag Barbie by the hair down to the cellar, where he did truly "underground" activities to her.  Sick things.  Perverted things.  Things you can get arrested for in 38 states.  Of course, I had these sessions alone, after Lois and Stacy and Karen had gone home.  


I would often get bored and go find boys to play with in the neighborhood.  That was much more interesting than playing vanilla Barbie.  My mom called me a tomboy.  Yes, I played sports with the boys but what happened in the secluded neighboring woods were sports of a different kind.


We lived next to an abandoned cemetery and there were always grave markers, trees and crypts to play in.  Sometimes, if I was lucky, I would get tied to them, switched with a sapling branch from a nearby tree, and left alone to conjure up all sorts of even more wicked scenarios.


This was between the ages of 8 and 10.


Fast forward not even a decade later, and Carn and I were engaging in regular bondage sessions in the backseat of his car, in his home when his mom wasn't around, out at the party spot across the street from school in the orange grove, in the middle of a cow pasture by a live oak tree.  Wherever.  


It is one of those paradoxes I still cannot understand, but to this day, I still feel at my most freest, when I am in  bondage.  A strong rope tied around me, the inability to move, the freedom to choose stripped away from me, all that is left is the necessity to experience whatever my partner does to me from that point on.  Freedom in bondage.  Bondage brings freedom.  


My ex-husband was not into BDSM at all but bless his heart, he tried.  We had a very active and good sex life, even though he was vanilla and I was the most deviant person he had ever met.  One day he decided to give it the old college try and tied me to the metal rod across the opening to our shower stall, and proceeded to play with me as I was tied up.  He was amazed.  He said in all the years of our marriage, he had never felt me so wet.  The juices from my vagina were literally running down the inside of my thighs, trickling all the way to the floor. I think that was the first moment he fully understood what bondage and discipline and sadomasochism and dominance and submission means to me.  Unfortunately, he was not wired up that way, but I still do appreciate him trying.


Today I am single.  And single I will remain.  


Until I find my Kinky Ken, or he finds me first....And I will be his Bondage Barbie.  There will be no driving off in a pink convertible.  We will drive off in a camper, with the back bedroom turned into a dungeon.  There will be no elegant princess fairy wedding dress.  I will wear a dress that has the ass and breasts exposed, and will be shackled, wearing a chastity device with sharp tacks inside.  


And I certainly won't be wearing white.  


But, he will be making my nasty deviant scenarios come true.  And so help me god/dess, I will make every single one of his perverted twisted fantasies come true.


And that is why I am single.  I will not settle for anything less.




My videos and photos
My phonesex and webcam lines
I'm a twit!  Follow me

Saturday, April 28, 2012

It's in the genes







It was only a matter of time before Carn truly dominated me and took away the last thing I had left to give.  


In the meantime, my mom was not happy.  She didn't like Carn and thought he was trouble.  She saw the highly sexual nature of him, in fact, I think she sensed it.  It turns out that I found out later my mother was also a very sexual person, she was just better at hiding it.


I devised a system to keep everyone happy.  My life at school revolved around Carn.  As soon as I arrived in the morning on one of the first buses, I would go to our spot, an outdoor hallway on the second floor of our school that was seldom used.  Within minutes, Carn would arrive, and we would have about 45 minutes of extreme make-out time before the first bell rung.  


During his 20 minute morning shop break, I would leave my class for the supposed purpose of using the bathroom, where I would meet Carn.  At lunch, we would forsake eating and go across the street to the orange grove where there was a party place set up by fellow students.  Battery operated radios, mattresses, weed, alcohol - all that you needed for a lunch time party was in the clearing.  During my afternoon shop break, Carn would meet me.  And finally we said our goodbyes at the bus line at the end of the school day.  And of course there was Saturday night.


My mom only knew about Saturday night.


Friday night, I would go out with other guys, have a so-so time, and think about Carn.  Or if I was really lucky, I would devise a way to go out on a double date and be picked up first by the guy, so my mom thought I was going out with him, but then we would pick up the guy's date, and Carn.  Those were good weekends, when I was able to see Carn two nights in a row.  


I hated deceiving my mom like that.  I still hate deceiving people to this day.  But I did it for Carn, I did it for love.


And finally I gave in to Carn and gave him the most intimate part of myself.  This was huge for me.  It was, to me, the epitome of my deceitfulness to the church, to my mom, to my God  But I loved Carn that much.


My mom was supposedly going away on a church women's retreat.  Now, as I look back, I wonder about that.  I think she was doing something else, but that's another story.  I told Carn that I would be alone all weekend and I wanted him to come visit me.  I didn't tell him why.  But he promised he would come see me.  


That whole day I was a nervous wreck.  My conscience beat me mercilessly.  I wrestled with warring emotions of loyalty, trust, lust and love.  My imagination came up with all sorts of scenarios.  What if my mom came home unexpectedly and found us and sent me off somewhere else?  I would never see Carn again.  What happened if I got pregnant?  My mom would throw me out and disown me.  


But as Carn arrived and we sat on the same couch that he first fingered me, we started kissing, and he started touching me and I started sucking on him, and just when he REALLY started getting into it, I looked up at his eyes.  Those amazing, green/amber eyes, so intense, so full of lust, the sparks in the air crackling with energy, his shirtless torso flexing with pent up male need, and I stood up, ignored his questioning gaze, took him by the hand, and let him into the living room.  I wanted to be able to hear if a car pulled up in the driveway, my mother.  I had him pull out the couch into the sleeper sofa, and I laid down on it.  He still didn't catch on.  I pulled his hand to my vagina and he immediately entered it and I was so wet, so slick.  But that's how he always made me, so nothing was unusual there.  He played with me, but I couldn't orgasm, I was so nervous and scared and worried.  Finally he laid back in the bed, confused, his erection going down, and I looked at him.  I knew that this boy I was looking at was going to be the one.  He had been so patient, never pressured me too much about having sex.  Yes he was dominant but he knew my virginity was very important to me and he wanted me to give it to him freely.  Well, his strategy worked.  His patience would pay off.  I wanted to give that to him.  No matter how scared I was of the outcome, physical, emotional, mental or spiritual.


I had him lay flat and I straddled him.  He looked at me strangely. This was new.  And I rubbed myself against his cock.  It immediately started to grow and throb.  "Don't tease me like that, I won't be able to stop myself if you keep that up."  He wasn't kidding.  I could feel his lust as it encircled me like a physical presence.


And I looked straight into those eyes that I loved so much and said, "I'm not teasing you."


Finally he realized what I was doing.


And he let me do it all.  I decided how long I would rub against him, I decided when I would put his cockhead against my lower lips.  I decided how fast and how much of his cock I would take into myself.  I decided how long I would remain motionless, letting the pain recede, letting my body grow accustomed to the new invasion, I decided when I would stir and start to move up and down over him.  He lay still the whole time, watching my face.  It was all so INTIMATE, to watch him watch me lose my virginity on his cock.  


I would like to say that I ended up riding him hard and came all over his cock and he came all over inside me and we held each other and marveled at the wonders of penetrative sex.  But it didn't work that way.  I was still too nervous I would displease him, still too scared my mom would come home, and still too worried I would get pregnant.


But he said it didn't matter that it was not a storybook scene.  He said what mattered to him was that I gave him the most deepest part of me I could ever give him, that I allowed him, that I chose him, to be my first.


And he said, "Next time, it will be different.  I promise you, you will enjoy it."


That was the first and the last time I ever controlled how we had sex.  And he was right, the next time, it WAS different, and I LOVED it.


There was no turning back.  And I wouldn't have had it any other way.




My photos and videos
Talk to me on webcam or phone
I'm a Twit!  Follow me

Friday, April 27, 2012

Nature






I've always loved nature.  I've always felt so primal, so earthy, so attuned to nature.  So it's no surprise that even amid fire ants with huge anthills and bees and horseflies, I would sexually experiment outdoors.


Whether it was a horse field with Carn at 16, or a make-out place under the stars next to a lake with Monroe at 18 or even now, camping in a forest or on a nature trail, I love outdoor sex.  


I work in porn now, and I try to do as many outdoor shoots as I can.  Unfortunately, neither my photographer or I can handle 95 degree heat with 95% humidity so that doesn't happen much. 


Just like in Illinois, I soon developed a core group of friends and we would go out every weekend together.  There wasn't much to do in Florida back then.  Movies, the roller skating rink, and sitting around a campfire skipping school, going to Anna Maria Island and skinny dipping in the gulf with the manatees and the dolphins, Lithia Springs Park, smoking weed and making out with your boyfriend.  That was about it.


Once Carn fingered me, he really stepped up his campaign to have a girlfriend that would give in to his sexual demands whenever he wanted it.  As of yet, I was still a virgin but he was working on that.


One night some friends of ours, a couple, asked us to give them a ride to the church youth group and tried their best to get me and Carn to go in with them.  I was already plagued with guilt about the things I let Carn do to me, and my mom insisted I go to church with her every Sunday, so I didn't want to sit through another three hour session of religious guilt on a Friday night.  So we said no, dropped them off, and found a place to park.  


We found a secluded area hidden by palm trees that had a huge live oak tree in the center.  It obviously was a safe make-out place - condoms and beer bottles were strewn everywhere.  Carn parked and proceeded to work his magic.




I never tired of his touch.  His kisses never grew old.  Whether it be coming to school early and making out in a deserted second floor outdoor wing or in the middle of an orange grove, I treasured and greedily waited for our next encounter.  And there was always a next encounter.  Carn said he loved the fact that I loved it as much as he did, and I never said no.  And it's true.  Although I was still a virgin and we did "everything but," I never said no to our trysts.  His touch inflamed me.  I only felt truly ALIVE when we were locked together exploring each other.


Don't get me wrong.  I was still attracted to other guys.  And I even experimented with them.  That is why I say that I have never in my life had a monogamous relationship.  And I don't believe in them, to this day.  It's just unnatural to me.  


And with the huge divorce rate in part to infidelity, I'm not the only one who feels that way.


When the youth meeting was over, we picked up our friends.  "How was it?" I asked.  "Eh, it was OK," they both replied.  I just looked at Carn and grinned.  He grinned back.  Our times together were NEVER just "OK."


Surprisingly, I found out later this couple had sex on a regular basis, yet went to youth group.  Meanwhile I was virgin because of my religious beliefs, yet did all I could to avoid church.


Carn was the first person to give me oral sex.  It was in the middle of a cow pasture under another old live oak tree.  Cows were mooing all over, sometimes coming a wee bit too close for comfort, the flies were biting me, and I was always on the lookout for fire ants.  It was hot, it was humid, I was sweating.  But Carn was between my legs, doing impossibly ecstatic things to me, with his fingertips, his whole fingers, and his mouth.  He instinctively knew about orgasm control, and then forced orgasms.  


He would use his tongue and fingers to bring me just to the brink, and then he would hold off, laughing, looking at me with those beautifully exotic cat eyes while he bit my nipples and tweaked them, while I would almost be on the verge of tears with orgasmic frustration.  When he saw that I lost the edge, he would go back down and do it all over again.  When he finally allowed me to cum, it's amazing the farmer didn't hear it acres away at his house.  Intense is putting it mildly. 


And then, he would pin me down.  Remember, he worked out every day at the high school weight room and he was as strong as a bull (just as stubborn too...coincidentally, he is a Taurus!).  I was unable to move, he would keep me pinioned as he made me cum over and over and over again.  I was screaming, crying, yelling, begging him to stop because it was all so intense, so exquisite, so painful, too pleasurable and he wouldn't stop.


There ya go.  He wouldn't stop.  HE WOULDN'T STOP.  Crying, pleading, at his mercy, he wouldn't stop.


Another reason why I loved him so.  


HE would decide what pleasure, HE would decide how much pleasure, and HE would decide when I would receive the pleasure.  And the pleasurable pain.


Carn brought out all the latent submissive feelings I had all my life into full force.  No one ever did that before him.  Maybe because they just didn't know how.  Once he took control of me, there was no turning back.  All the boyfriends I had before him seemed inept.  He was truly my first love.  


I remember the first time I ever sucked cock.  It was Carn's.  It was a huge step for me.  But it seemed so natural once I did it.  I remember looking up at his face, as his cock was fully in my throat, touching my tonsils, engaging the gag reflex, my throat convulsively closing around it, and I was struck full force by the utter sense of joy and peace in his face, eyes closed, mouth smiling, cheeks relaxed.  And I realized I also felt an utter sense of joy and peace.  I was pleasing him.  I was making him happy.  I was serving him.  Once I realized how much pleasure ***I*** was giving him, I did it as often as I could.  Of course, he didn't mind in the least.


Even to this day, I love to suck cock.  I love to give that pleasure.  It speaks deep down to the submissive in me.  


Again, some things never change.


My videos and photos
Reach out and connect with me through phonesex and webcam
I'm a twit!  Are you?  Follow me on twitter.

Thursday, April 26, 2012

My First Love




My family moved to Florida between my sophomore and junior year of high school.  Florida was completely different from the midwest.  For one thing, the drugs.  Drugs were everywhere and it seemed like most everyone was doing them.  Up in Illinois, there were the "freaks" and they would congregate in the school's smoking area, surrounded by a grey cloud over their heads, every break.  Down in Florida, brains, jocks and freaks were all smoking weed.  

And that is how I met the first love of my life.  He has a very unusual name, so I don't want to say it here.  Let's call him Carn.  

I saw Carn the very first day at my new school and I immediately fell head over heels in lust with him.  He worked out in the high school's gym regularly and had a body to die for.  He was part Native American and always had a deep dark tan.  He had piercing, intense hazel eyes, and long brown hair that was kissed with natural highlights from the sun.  

And I couldn't believe it when one of his guy friends told me he liked me.

I don't recall how our courtship began, but I remember our first kiss.  I had been kissed before, many times.  But nothing like this.  He was MALE.  He was ALPHA.  He was aggressive, he was strong, he was raging teenage hormones and man, were his lips soft.  The hardness of his muscles, the smoothness of his skin, the silkiness of his long hair, those eyes that could see right through me...that kiss took my breath away and it still does whenever I think of it.  

I think the reason why I fell so hard with him was because he was the first true dominant male I ever encountered on a personal level.  

I was anti-drug in Illinois.  Florida, and Carn, changed all that.  (Let the record show that now, today, I am drug free - recent trials of marijuana again only led to paranoia each time...no thanks.)

When you are raised Catholic, then Pentecostal, it is drummed into you that premarital sex is wrong.  I held out until I was 17.  Carn was extremely sexual and flat out told me that he would not be able to resist the advances of Wanda, his very promiscuous teenage next door neighbor.  Indeed, Wanda was 17 and already was on her second pregnancy.  I knew he wasn't kidding.  She flirted shamelessly with him, even right in front of me.  How could I compete with that?  I considered giving him my blessing to have sex with her.  Honestly, I don't think it would have bothered me to give her proxy so that I could hold on to my blessed virginity.

But then one day we were discussing going skating with a neighborhood girl and she changed the subject abruptly and with amazingly excited eyes told us how her boyfriend would take her in back of the school each day while waiting for the bus, and finger her.  She was only 15.  I got very uncomfortable.  I never let Carn finger me inside, or any other boy for that matter, and I was 17.  Up in Illinois, only the REALLY "bad girls" did that.  Yet as she described it, I knew it must have been pleasurable for her, and she said she couldn't wait for him to do it again tomorrow.  

Florida was different than Illinois not just in acceptance of drug use.  I knew three girls on my bus who got pregnant that year.  

The girl left my house after we decided to go skating that Saturday and Carn and I just sat there in my family's TV room with the door shut.  He looked at me with those amazing green eyes tipped with amber around the edges and said, "See, it's not that bad." 

My mind was torn.  I wanted to feel the orgasm she felt, I wanted to feel Carn's finger in me "down there" and I really wanted to please him and make him happy.  But I wanted to stay relatively pure.  Christian guilt is a powerful motivator. 

But Carn was a true alpha dominant, and he wore down my defenses by appealing to the submissive side of me.  How did he know to do that?  Instinct, I'm guessing.

"You have no idea how much it would please me if you let me finger you like that.  I want to make you cum so bad.  You WILL cum, for me.  For ME!  You will like it, and you will see how much it would make me happy.  I love your body and I want to see it react to what I'm doing to it.  "

That did it.

The kid was only 17 years old.  I wonder what he's like now, with years of experience to hone the skills of dominant persuasion.

And so, right there on the family couch, with that new network, MTV, in the background, my vagina, my pussy, my hoohah, my love tunnel, my yoni, my sacred spot, my CUNT, was entered for the first time.

And he was right.  It did please him, he did make me cum, he did love watching my reaction to his hands, his will, and I did like it.  Oh, did I like it.

My vagina has never been the same.  From a state of dormancy to intense, power sexual hunger that has plagued me all my life.  All those sexual feelings and thoughts I had had since early childhood were now finally turning into reality.  There was no turning back.  I knew right then it was only a short matter of time before I went "all the way."  And I knew it would be, it HAD to be, with Carn.

No one was else was worthy to "take" it.

My yoni still gets the wettest when it is being controlled by a dominant male.  

Some things things never change.


Tuesday, April 24, 2012

Oh, so there's a name for this?!?!?!



It was Saturday night and like all Saturday nights in freshmen and sophomore high school years, the core group was piling into Ken's station wagon where we would go to the drive-in and engage in heavy petting during the movie.  This time I was paired up with Zach.  Not many of us were couples in the true sense.  We just paired off with someone different every weekend and got down to business.  The movie was Superman and Zach was doing the old proverbial "Russian hands, Roman fingers" technique of touching my already ample breasts through my grey ribbed cowl neck top and beige Maidenform bra underneath (to this day, I still refuse to wear white underwear.  Boring!!).  I was so turned on.  So far, no boy had ever wandered further south on me but I was able to watch as "the couples" experimented further, and even a few braver girls let the guys travel lower down to nether regions.  I couldn't wait for someone to be brave enough and try it.  It was all so thrilling and it was all I thought about all week long, until the next Saturday rolled around.  


In my imagination, though, my thoughts were much more perverse than the heavy petting.  Zach was tying me up on the hood of the car where he did ambiguous, blurry things between my legs.  Roy had me in the back of the station wagon tied up spreadeagle where he bit my nipples so hard, I bled.  Ken took me to his house while his parents were at a party and there on his parents' bed he roughly took away my virginity.  Mike gave me a ride to school on a cold snowy day and in return demanded I give him a blow job.  Scott took me into a deserted choir practice room and took off his belt, threw me over his lap, pulled down my jeans and whipped me.  Dan took me for a snowmobile ride and purposely took me into a far away barn where I was tied and suspended over a cross beam....


All in my head, of course.  None of this ever transpired.  Although in my future, I had much more interesting things done to me.  If only I would have known.  And you will read about some of those adventures in future posts.


Back to high school.  


After the movie, we would go to the local ice cream parlor.  And one fateful time is where it happened.


"HAH, I think that character was into BDSM, did you see how he acted?" someone said.


"BDSM?" I asked.  "What's that?"


"Bondage, discipline, sadomasochism," someone answered.


(Back then, the Dominance/submission portion of that acronym had not yet come into place yet, I suppose.)


Wow.


Wow.


Oh my gosh.


So THAT is what I have been thinking about all my life.  That is what I had been doing in the lonely recesses of my bedroom, isolated from everyone else, engaging in surely depraved activities that no amount of Hail Marys or Our Fathers would get me out of purgatory!  That is what I had been doing with that hairbrush!  (That will be my next blog entry.  The hairbrush.  Ahh, the hairbrush.  Some girls have teddy bears and Barbie dolls...I had the hairbrush.)


There was a name to this!  It had an identity!  I was thrilled!!!


Until the next words came out of someone's mouth.


"Crazy freaks.  What sick bastards.  Weirdos.  FREAKS!"


And as elated I was in one moment, I was devastated a split second later.


I was a crazy freak.  A sick bastard.  A weirdo.  A freak.


And I knew right then and there I could never, ever, tell anyone about the real me.  Ever.


And I didn't.  Until many, many years later.


I fully identify with the teenager who is gay or lesbian who cannot tell his friends, parents, teacher, clergyman.  I totally understand the married man who is a crossdresser who has to hide his silky underwear.  Because I harbored a secret just as shameful, just as taboo, just as forbidden.  For many years.


I am so grateful I no longer have to hide who I am.  And I hope all who are held captive by such double lives can someday find freedom.  


I think that day is approaching.  


But we are a long, long way off before all alternative lifestyles and orientations are accepted without stigma.


In the meantime, think of me what you will.  I don't care anymore.  This is who I am, and who I always will be.  Accept me as I am, or go away.  It's that simple.


To those in the closet with whatever label is on the door:  Don't give up.  Don't be discouraged.  Don't hate yourself!  It's not your fault, you did not choose this.  It is the way you have been wired, perhaps since birth.  Perhaps even before birth.  


You can make it.  Hang in there.  You will survive.  As I say now, "We are not different.  We are ENHANCED!"  



www.southern-charms2.com/sammie
www.niteflirt.com/sensualsammie
www.twitter.com/sammieSC2