Fallen Angel

European Vacation

Hey! We're in Capri. Got here three nights ago after our flight to Rome. Girl, you were right, these Euro boys are so hot and delicious (and easy!) This is me with Sandro mio bello (haha I'm picking up Italian as I go). He's a waiter at this wine bar we were at on our first night here. When these boys want you to know they're available, they sure don't use subtle signals! He says he wants to quit his job and follow me around Italy, and he wants me to take him back with me to the States.

Allie's found a bello of her own. She just can't keep her hands off of him. Here's a photo of those two when Sandro and I left them alone for only a few minutes! Of course, Sandro and I had a little fun on our walk too. Haha. He's got a tongue that just won't quit so I'm thinking seriously about stuffing him into a suitcase and taking him with us after all.

So our current plan is to stay in Capri until the end of the week, and then head back to the mainland, make our way up to your family's chalet in Tuscany in time to meet you there when you get here. Can't wait till we get to party Euro-style together!

See ya, Roxy

trinket999 here. I'm going on vacation for the next three weeks and I'm not bringing my computer with me so there'll be no updates until I get back. And no, I don't have the good fortune to spend a week in Capri, much less know someone with a chalet in Tuscany.

Wet Kisses

At the Beach

As I mentioned before, in my world, we're not anywhere near as prudish as in yours. Women in my world often go about in a state that people from your world would call "topless" although this is not a term that is used here since it's a normal state of being. As can be expected, swimwear for women in most cultures here consists only of skimpy bikini bottoms.

In other more conservative places, you might see a bikini top, but women only wear that as a courtesy to their easily embarrassed male counterparts, and not out of their own sense of modesty.

It's also pretty common for women and men to engage in what people in your world would probably term "lewd and indecent acts" and this is becoming ever more common with the liberalizing of traditional sexual attitudes among young men. "This is the sort of disgusting thing that goes on in public nowadays!" scream conservative male critics. "There oughta be a law!"

But there isn't, and with the prevailing attitudes of the majority of women, there never will be.

Before or After, It's Always Time for More Advertising

Some cigarette companies in my world play on the image of the rugged individualism of cowgirls astride horses in the American West, while others just use a whole lot of sex to sell their wares.

You may be wonderin', would bare breasts be allowed on advertising billboards on my world? And I would tell you that yes, yes they are. We're not as prudish about bodies and body parts over here in my world, unlike in yours, and over here, full nudity of both women and men can be found on giant billboards plastered over city skylines and highway-sides. But more on that later.

As an aside, these ads are a nod to one of my favorite online authors, marknew742 who wrote two of my favorite stories, Tara's Lathe and Matt & Emma. His stories are novella-length, and he puts in a lot of effort into creating believable situations and characters. I don't share his love of hugely muscular women though, but it's easy to read past that and just enjoy the scenarios he creates of worlds where women become the stronger sex, physically and so much more.

Stronger

"You're not that strong," I declared loudly.  She didn't say anything, but she was smirking at me.  I put up my fists like a boxer, pulled a head feint like I'd seen on TV, and then threw a couple of jabs at her hip.  The first one hit against solid muscle but the second ran into her hip bone.  "Ow," I said.

"You box like a boy," she said, amused.

The blow to my ego was probably worse than my throbbing knuckles.  I'd thought I'd made a passable impression of a boxer.  I made a sulky face and turned around and yelped as I was suddenly sailing through air as she'd picked me up from behind and tossed me effortlessly onto her large and thankfully very soft bed.  I struggled to stand up among the rumpled bedclothes as she leaped onto the bed next to me and I was thrown violently back again from the force of her landing.

"Still think I'm not that strong?" she asked as she loomed over me, chuckling deeply.  I stood up, and looked up at her, craning my neck to see her eye-to-eye.  In truth, she was very tall and strong for a girl.  I just felt like being contrary.

"Whatever, wimp," I grunted, and threw myself against her body.  She laughed.  She hadn't budged an inch.

"Tell ya what," she said. "I'll give you three tries to push me over, and if you succeed, then I'll... take you to Wonderland this weekend."

I'd been bugging her to take me to the amusement park for weeks. I'd had fantasies of being strapped into her lap on the big rides that we hadn't been allowed to go on when I had gone with my brothers last year. Men are too small for those rides to ride by ourselves. I crossed my arms and looked at her out of the corner of my eyes. "And what if I lose?"

She laughed. "Each time you fail, you have to strip off an item of your clothing."

Without warning, I snarled and threw my whole weight into her. I thought I felt her give but then her abdomen tensed against me and I was shoved back.

"Off with his shirt!" she hollered.

I pulled my shirt off and threw it on the floor beside the bed. She grinned as she cocked her arms and flexed her biceps, showing off. I stepped back and then ran headlong into her stomach. Oof. It was like running into a brick wall.

She cackled triumphantly.

I untied the drawstring of my shorts and peeled them off, panting a little. "Okay," I said, "I give up." I flopped backwards onto the bed. I was out of breath. Also, rubbing up against her had made me a little... hot.

"Then I win by forfeit," she said as she reached down and hooked her large fingers under the waistband of my briefs and pulled them down to my knees. "Looks like my boy likes a big strong woman." She was smiling. Wrapping one hand around my calf, she pulled me, giggling, under her.

That weekend, she took me to Wonderland anyway.

Summer Fling

Sweet, sweet burn,
Of sun and summer wind.
And you my boy,
My new fun thing,
My summer fling.

The Dream Factory

Hollywood exists in my world just like in yours, America's dream factory. In the Hollywood in my world, pretty young things from all over move, bright-eyed, to California, dreaming of becoming the next It Boy. They find work as janitors, pool boys, household servants; they bus and wait table at restaurants and bars; others work at clubs as nude waiters and dancers. And all the while, they run to casting calls and script readings, where they are easy prey for the power-players of Tinseltown. For a boy struggling to make it here, it's all about how good-looking you are, and who you sleep with, the casting agent, a producer, the director, or that female lead in the film you're auditioning for who gazes at you with a smirk and a little gleam in her eye. Maybe she'll put in a good word for you. Maybe she won't. But she never will if you don't play the game.

Those who make it can look forward to a few years in the spotlight, as ravished men in distress and objects of desire for women in summer action movies, or as the coveted lead and target of envy among men in romantic comedies.

But the tastes of Hollywood are fickle, and the attention of women shorter still, and there are always younger boys, eager to take your place on the casting couch or as arm-candy for the Hollywood elite. And for each boy that the Dream Factory eats up and spits out, there are thousands waiting to get in.

Ch-ch-ch-changes

I've just discovered that Blogger will let me flag the entire blog as adult-content, so that everyone who visits will have to go through a confirmation interstitial first. This means that I can get rid of those "Continue reading..." links for R-rated content. Yay! I'll be removing them from all my old posts shortly.

I'm also thinking of switching image hosts, because the stability of imagevenue has been a bit underwhelming, and also because the Blogger image host (Picasa) can support larger thumbnails, which I'm interested in using for my posts that do not contain text. The only thing is that I think Picasa is a lot stricter with its content enforcement, so that could be a problem. If I do decide to switch though, it will happen behind the scenes.

Lovers in the City