Meow (Project Of A Hundred Kisses)

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Confessions (yes, more) from Lady Lipstick…

For the sake of making this confession more interesting (or palatable), I thought it’d be cute to imagine myself speaking of it…at a Confessional…
If any of you may think this was a somewhat blasphemous decision, you shouldn’t be here in the first place. The blurb for this blog (right on the top of this page) explicitly states narrow-mindedness is unwelcome here. Log off immediately and say 50 Hail Mary’s before you go to bed… Or perhaps…
Perhaps take a minute to sit back…and breathe calmly…and think. Yes Lady Lipstick is a self-proclaimed lipstick fetishist and self-pleasuring advocator…but do you see anywhere on this site that promotes malicious behaviour to one’s fellow man? Or stoning puppies? Murder? Theft? Rape? Lies?
Precisely. Perhaps this Lady Lipstick need not be burnt at the stake then?
Relax. And do enjoy. I dare you…

“Bless me father for I have sinned, it has been 24hrs since my last confession…”
“Oh heavenly saints, not you again…dear child, this insatiable passion for lipstick you are ailed with must one day cease, at the mercy of our lord… I’m beginning to think you take an unholy pleasure in these confessions…”
“Sweet father, I pray, hear me speak, that I may purge myself of these…wicked fancies… [a compact pops open and our lovely Lady smears on a fresh coat of the silken colour glistening on her lips, flashing herself a mischievous berry-coloured grin in the little mirror] …for I have been feverishly plagued by a sinful fantasy that has haunted my every private hour for some time…”
“How long have you been suffering this devilish vision, child…?”
“Incessantly since my return from travelling abroad, at the beginning of this year of our lord, father.”
“Eight months you have been ceaselessly plighted by this wicked hallucination…? Child, you should have purged yourself of it sooner.”
"It's true father...[A murmur:] but I was really enjoying it…”
“What was that my child?”
“I wanted to see if I could rid myself of it on my own father.”
“The flesh is weak, child, the flesh is weak…an admirable attempt though.”
No, the flesh is playful silly, thinks Lady Lipstick to herself.
“What form did this abomination in your imagination take place?”
“Father, I see myself, every detail crystal clear, performing as a dancing girl in a strip club, behind me, draping the back of the stage are dazzling, glittering golden curtains… The colours of the flashing lights, my costume, the room, slide over the dancing-poles scattered on the stage, three of them to be precise, the stage extends into a catwalk into the crowd… My lipstick is as thick as velvet, a sparkling, deep ruby colour, a crushed velvet skirt the colour of blood falls all the way down to my ankles…with slits on either side that climb aaaaaaaall the way up to my swaying hips…blossoming purple-red roses bloom from my nipples…one more from a black velvet choker around my neck… The walls of the room are exquisite aquariums glinting with golden fish with endlessly flowing fins…everything is reflected on their glass… I like watching the reflection of way I move, the way I smile, while I’m dancing... the way the colour of my lips flashes…”
“Clearly a room designed to exacerbate the weakness of the flesh, befitting such a depraved profession. Is this the extent of the vision that plagues you? You’ve had worse…though that gives you no excuse to dally on your decadent details…”
“Oh holy father, I fear it does get worse…I will linger no longer on the details of the scene in which my wanton fantasy takes place, forgive me, I so desperately wish to experi... exorcise it from my mind. May I continue?”
“You have already tallied 30 Hail Mary’s from that introduction child, for your sake, I hope the total you earn may offer some redemption for your tainted soul…”
“It is my hope too father…[the sheen of the berry colour thickens, as our Lady slicks on a further three coats, leisurely, across her lips]… It is common for the glittering girls of this glittering…er, unholy place, to perform with props of sorts…candles, lollipops, a bucket of water to drench themselves in before they start removing their clothes…just about anything… Dangling upside down from the top of a pole I have my thighs wrapped around, I pull out a tube of lipstick from apparently nowhere, it’s my little secret…”
“Didn’t see that one coming…”
“Father! Is sarcasm appropriate for a soul baring itself to you for redemption?”
“[Sigh] Go on then…”
"I spread a thick coat of it over my already painted lips…slowly… [she smears another thick, silken coat…slowly…winking at herself in the compact mirror] then I stroke myself with the bottom of the tube, letting it slide from my lips, through the valley between my breasts, down to my belly button… Using the colour again, I draw a series of blossoming rose vines spirallling out of my belly button…all over my outstretched tummy, still dangling from the pole. Perhaps I blow a kiss to the crowd before shimmying back down to the stage… I pluck the roses from my nipples, let them fall to the stage, then fall to my knees on the catwalk, smearing the lipstick all over my rosebuds…I start feeling feverish, from my position I sink onto my back, begin to spread the lipstick all over my pussy, everywhere, every rise, every cranny, every expansion of flesh… I completely forget that I am supposed to be performing for clients, I am in utter rapture in the feeling of slicking all that lipstick anywhere I can, I lose control, I leave trails of it climbing from my clit up to my neck, along my arm, back to swirling patterns of the iridescent colour all over my hips, tendrils that twirl from the corners of my lips along my cheeks, lining my eyes, grazing my earlobes, down the sensitive skin on the nape of my neck… I have shivers down my spine, a burning between my thighs they intermittently squeeze at…still I am lost in the frenzy of getting lipstick all over my body, I arch my back and gleaming colour immediately begins to trail and swirl there, then follows the spine back to the wet place between my legs, I can’t stop, the other girls appear from the dressing rooms and blaze their colours on any part of flesh on me they can, the room disappears in lipstick and my body hits the dizzying point of no return…”
[Silence]
“Father…?”
“Holy mother of god that was hot.”

P.S. I think so too

One for the ladies in the audience (some DIY jazz)

Regardless of whether lipstick is your *thing* or not, if you’ve currently found yourself on the road of investigating and freeing your sexuality, you may find some of these tips from Yours Truly, of assistance. Generally, when one is becoming acquainted with themselves as a sexual being, this means getting thoroughly more acquainted with one’s reproductive anatomy, yes ladies, your vaginas. I highly recommend, in this regard, getting rid of shrubbery that would thwart your exploration and can thoroughly assure you that you’d be amazed at what a substantial difference it makes. How much better you will be able to recognise the contours and undulations of the skin…and just how much more you’ll understand the intimate workings of your lady bits when you can actually see them…

For your benefit I’ve squeezed in 6 years of unguided, uninformed solo work so you don’t have to find out the hard way, namely the route Lady Lipstick had to traverse.
(If you are interested in cavorting with lipstick, some penny-saving advice follows)

Tip 1, do not, under any circumstances, mow yourself down with a razor. It’s a really, really stupid idea. If you’re under duress or it’s a spur-of-the-moment thing that may pass as quickly as it came and you simply do not have the necessary accessories, fine, but make sure it happens as rarely as possible, the price to pay is not worth it.
Shaving your (if you’re anything like me, oftentimes glittering) lily, is not, in any way, like shaving your legs or armpits. You will bleed, there’s no getting around that, not even being able to do the splits will help you. The area is just too tricky and the dimples around each hair are non-negotiable. And, for godsake, the itch of regrowing hairs in the most sensitive part of your body is entirely unbearable.
Nevermind that you’re just going to get coarser hairs that keep growing back faster everytime. With all due respect, fuck that, and I don’t mean that in the pleasant sense of the term.

Tip 2, though this is more of an order than it is advice… is that depilating is the way forward, or if you’re big into your S and M, hot waxing. This prevents the aforementioned torture and you’ll find you need to do it less and less frequently. But, once more, no shortcuts here. Don’t try those “quick fix” easy application hair removal gels or mousses. The risk of unbearable burning or nasty rashes are very high and the one’s supposedly made for “the bikini area” never, ever get the job done properly, whatever the brand.
You need to just bite back your pride and take some time out in ridiculous-looking positions on your bathroom floor. And always have a trusty, portable, adjustable mirror with you. If you’re not a seasoned veteran like your Lady Lipstick, for the first couple of times you probably won’t take too kindly to the slight, tingling burning if you get the depilating crème on your clit or labia. This, however, gets less and less worse each time, or at least more and more bearable… maybe even somewhat pleasant.
Tip 3: Take your time, don’t rush it and don’t worry too much about the warnings on the product, eg: “do not use in the genital or perennial area”, honestly, you’ll be fine, it’s very, very, very special cases that are going to react badly, I have medical knowledge on this. If you’re paranoid, do a tiny test strip anywhere, but don’t be so paranoid that you think the slightest tingle means you’re going to need to be rushed to the hospital. There’s too many such warnings on cosmetic products for women that leave too many of us paralysed in fear, afraid of taking the slightest risk cause we’re shivering like nervous little puppies. Take it from moi, you have nothing to fear.

And last but not least, treat yourself to small tub of zinc cream from your local pharmacist. This is to rub on once the deed’s been done. It’s just what the doctor ordered. It will also make sure the skin becomes more and more resilient to whatever crème you’re going to baste it in for forthcoming sessions. Or, if you succumbed to whatever pressure and razed yourself with blades, woe betide you, it’ll help the nicks heal much faster and will be the ultimate soothing balm. If the zinc cream is beyond your wallet’s reach (though it really is an excellent investment) your next best deal is aqueous cream (which feels kinda sexy to smear on) or, if all else fails, your bogstandard Vitamin E cream.

And if you lovely ladies are *tickled pink* by a bit of lipstick play, here’s my last two morsels of advice…

Firstly, when it comes to decorating the juicy bits you’re going to need to prepare yourself for a game of “how expensive”…
Take my word for it, you’re just not going to get a thick, silky coat to stick in the southern regions unless it’s quality stuff…unfortunately it tends to get hot down there (in every sense of the term) and some of these quality sticks…er…buckle in the heat. There’s nothing quite so sad as breaking a stick of colour that drove you wild to smear across your northern lips. Particularly if it was a stunning colour…that goes with your favourite going-out number…and also happened to cost quite a pretty penny…
(This is the bit where Lady Lipstick cutely pouts at her readership for sponsorship for her…*habit*. I like going out to town with secret butterflies etc, okay? Stew me.)
One must also take into consideration the detail of the terrain…it gets substantially more funky than your delectable pout girls…
My advice for picking out the more resilient lipsticks is this little test: preheat the tube, hold it in your hand for about 10-30 minutes, depending whether you’re putting up with summery or wintry weather… then give it a test smearing on the lips everyone can see. Sloooowly does it… Don’t push too hard or too soft, the object is to see that you’re getting all the colour you want on your flesh without your lipstick breaking right out of the tube. You need not try this test with Rimmel or Elizabeth Arden sticks…I’m afraid they can’t handle it. Such a pity… On the otherhand, if you’re packing L’Oreal (lasting colour of course ;-) ) in your cosmetic bag…you’re ready to go! Some Revlon sticks pass the test too.

Now go out there and have some fun already.

And remember girls, your pussy is beautiful ;-)

Freedom

Freedom: A representation:

“You say the word, you know I will find you,
or if you need some time, I don’t mind…
I don’t hold on
to the tail of your kite.
I’m not like the girls that you’ve known,
but I believe I’m worth coming home to
kiss away night
this girl only sleeps with butterflies…
with butterflies…
so go on and fly
boy…”

– Tori Amos, “Sleeps With Butterflies”

*Storytime* (Preamble)

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*Storytime*

She paces restlessly across her room, a blur of wisping satin, grazes of crushed-velvet, raspings of sheaths of chiffon, the faintest flutterings of the gentlest of cottons, whispers of streaks of lace, caressing her naked flesh in her wake…
It’s a Saturday night, outside her bedroom window is an evening painted in colours so rich you could taste them. She licks her lips.
She has a date and she’s nervous…she has trouble acting normal when she’s nervous. She catches a glint, pauses infront of the full-length mirror by her dressing table, the last wisps of colour finally sighing into stillness in her periphery. Her eyes travel up the curves of her body to the source of the glint…her eyes. “Goddamnit, I’ve got that look in my eyes”, she thinks to herself. Therein lies the problem…
The sparkle in her eyes is more than reflected light, there’s electricity dancing there, curcuitry crackling with anticipation, glistening, jostling waters…
She leans in for a closer inspection…yes, her bottom lip is quivering, she knows her body well,
she knows what that means…

She’s not nervous about her date you see, she’s nervous about this animal writhing beneath her skin, craving the taste of flesh on flesh…the feel of juices flowing and mingling in silken abandon… It’s been ceaselessly clawing at the glowing heat between her legs…
“I have to get this look off my face”, she deliberates, “this guy’s going to think I’m an utter slut if he sees how-”, her eyes fall on one of the tubes of lipstick littering and glittering all over her dressing table, betwixt powders and candles and odd trinkets. This particular tube is called “Merlot Red”, an intoxicating wine-red colour. She knows it well. Knows the indescribably sexy, smooth texture of it being smeared onto her lips. A small, ever-so-slightly wicked smile touches the corner of her mouth… “Perhaps the solution to my problem lies not in getting this look off my face…but in painting it over…”

She reaches over, savours slowly rolling the stick of glistening colour out of hiding… She always does, she’s been putting on lipstick ever since she was a little girl, “but”, she thinks to herself, “there’s never enough times I can enjoy this little moment…”
Her smile widens ever-so-slightly.
She’s going to do this slowly…
For the first coat, she likes to stretch her lips back till they’re as smooth as glass…making sure the lipstick will ooze into every single valley, making sure not the slightest speck of flesh be deprived of the sensual, vivid balm.
There. She smears her lips against each other, taking delight in the sensation… Second coat. She runs the lipstick mostly on the inside of her lips. Slowly. A quick pout…yes, she’s got lipstick everywhere it can stick… A third coat, “Because three’s the charm” she murmurs to herself with a wink… This time she’s not merely slicking the colour on slowly, but there’s not an exact word for the way she’s taking her time this time round… It seems almost explicit, blatantly sexual…
She checks the look in her eyes. Allowing a little of her fire to burn has helped a little…but not enough… A fourth coat is smeared on between increasingly shallow breathing, a fifth, a sixth, a seventh, her head is spinning, an eighth, a nineth…
A deep intake of breath…
But the flames still flicker under her skin, in her secret places...

She glances at the time…he’ll be at her door in about ten minutes, she has no time to lose. A quick smearing of khol around her eyes for a smoky look. The slightest, lightest brush of brazen, shimmering rouge blush along her cheeks…
As she shifts her weight from slender, endless leg to slender, endless leg while applying the makeup, she notices a wetness melting along the inside of her thighs. She reaches a hand there to assess the situation…it comes back gleaming and slick. The thought “This is bad” is about to come to mind when she is suddenly hit with inspiration…
She draws out the lipstick once again, an ecstatic smile behind her cascading hair. And she reaches between her thighs again…
And luxuriates in that silken sensation of trailing lipstick all over her lips once again… A second coat is smeared on…a third, a fourth, a fifth.
She puts the lipstick away. There’s a light pulsing between her legs and she allows her palm to cradle it, gently apply pressure to it till it relaxes into a content murmur…
She closely inspects the glossy, ruby print on her palm, admiring it blissfully.
The mirror…
She presses her palm to her tummy, sighs sweetly at the detail it leaves there…
One more time…while there’s still time on her breast.
Perfect.
She wishes she could revere at the coloured traces on her skin a little longer…but, no worry. They’ll be her little secret to keep her company through dinner…

She throws on a slinky little red number, the same intoxicating colour of her lips just as the doorbell rings…
As she strides out, she puts the leg behind the slight slit at the front of the dress first…leading up her thigh to other lipsticked lips…

Undercover Pics- The *Lips* Series

Well... Here they are. And might I add that my nipples weren't the only bits of me that had a layer of gloopy gloss on ;-) The last of the 3 pics at the bottom of this post (control yourselves now gentlemen) was actually one of the most fun from the photo shoot because of all the slippery struggling it took to get it just about right... Could barely hold my bits back for as long as it took to take the shot without them sliding out from under my fingers. So, essentially, I had to *play* with myself for about 15min to get that shot (and a couple others for my private collection...cruel, aren't I?)

Anyhoo, I know most of you taking a peek have a Y chromosome in the mix... So for the sake of education and exploration, which is part of what this site's about, bear with me while I talk about these pics from a feminine perspective...

Generally, most girls you bump into on the street have never had an up-close look at their own genitalia...for goodness sake, we're talking about the gender that very, very, very rarely admits to masturbation to others with the same *bits*. A problem I know men don't have.
Most girls don't really think about their genitalia as part of their bodies, they're merely there for doing the horizontal mambo with a man they select. We don't know them like we know our noses or lips or hands...which is quite ironic cause we spend sooooo much time obsessing over our bodies...

So what does it feel like for a girl to look at her juicy parcel?
Being a girl that prefers pornography featuring women, there certainly is a part of me that finds it a bit of a turn-on. And that's wicked by me, I'd have to recommend it to every woman...for godsake we're stuck with these bodies, we may as well enjoy them and appreciate them for ourselves!
Also, I like the fact that I'm not, in any way, "weirded out" by looking at my pussy. I think it's kind of cute. I'm glad it's mine :-)

And now that I come to think of it... it kind of looks like a (very glittery) arum lily...
My pussy is beautiful! Yay!

So now you know.

Don't try this at home kids!

Well, it's been quite a productive evening... Having learnt the secret of getting my lips printed anywhere on me I want, I decided I needed to give myself a treat for my accomplishment.

We all have our fantasies...sometimes if we're *really* lucky, chance allows them to come to fruition.

Me, I'm not particularly stressed if my fantasies remain fantasies. Generally, the minute reality comes into the mix, it usually doesn't match up to all the details you were dreaming of. Dreams and fantasies are so beautiful, or so *divinely* sexy because of the very reason that they are dreams and fantasies. Reality cannot tarnish the glitter and gloss you've smeared your ideas in...

Even so, just had to see what my fantasy of being attacked by a dozen, lipstick-adorned girls dying to get a kiss on me wherever they can might look like in reality...

For you seasoned lipstick fetishists who actually care about details, here's the details of this project: -13 different lipsticks used, each reapplied and then printed 3 times(that's a grand total of 39 lipstick prints on my body)

-4 Este Lauder sticks: -All-day Berry Basket, China Red, Pink Parfait and Velvet Lilac

-6 Elizabeth Arden sticks (why so many? Not the greatest colours, but the texture is *heavenly*. These were put on just because they felt *so* good to put on): -Wild Winter Berry (a better colour), Desired, Pirouette, Amethyst (another fairly styling colour), Pout and Beauty

-1 Design: -Copper; 1 Lentheric: -Rich Bronze

My lips right now are quite smeared and somewhat raw...but feeling hella sexy all the same. Enjoy as much as I did ;-)

One (of the many) reasons why brains are *so* sexy...

...Because they help people like me get my lip print on parts of me my lips can't reach.

Score for Lady Lipstick!

Playtime ;-)

Sure, I feel as sexy as all hell smearing a good, thick, juicy colour across my lips…it’s a *timeless* classic turn-on…
But I also have to say the more lipstick I get on me, the more sexy I feel. It’s one of my latest “private jokes” in public (see what I mean when I say that in the “finger-licking funky literature” post). Went out to meet some oldtime friends today for a cup of coffee (or two, or a thousand) at the local mall. Looking like a perfectly normal mallrat.
But little did the crowd know what the clothes were covering…
Check the “Undercover” post to find out ;-)

Today was a *good* day. Purrrrrrr…

P.S. There are some lipsticked areas not shown in this post…wonder if you can guess where ;-) Post me flattering comments and I’ll post those photos.

Undercover pics

Oops.

Yet another scandalous confession from Lady Lipstick:

This is my first blog ever...and faffing with the source code is *really* getting my knickers in a knot right now (well, it WOULD be if I were ever wearing the things, it really just slips my mind sometimes...and I know that sounds like an attempt to be saucy, but nay, tis the cold, hard truth. If anyone else out there has the same problem, PLEASE email me so I know I"m not that weird).

As a result of the endless faffing, further frustrated by my growing impatience of the hour, the post that is SUPPOSED to be brazenly displayed at the top of the mainpage (where this post has HOPEFULLLY ended up) can be found like so:
go to the list of archives visible in the right margin (if this goes according to plan there SHOULD only be one listed), select 07/31/06. On the other side a post called "Finger-licking funky literature" will magically appear in the "Previous Posts" list.
That's the bugger y'all should be getting an eyeful of on the mainpage. And it's got my favourite pic on the blog right now on it... Grrrrrrrr...

I'll post a homemade video-clip if any IT-adept can help me straigthen this out. Who's game?

Update: Hah! I did it aaaaaall by myself! Better luck next time!

Finger-licking funky literature

My top 5 *potent* turn-on's, in no particular order: lipstick, having a "private joke" in public (for example, going shopping with a vibrating toy stashed and vibrating away inside me), a *playful* partner (male or female) in the sheets, tasteful (though by NO means necessarily soft-core) porn... and last, but certainly not least... brains. When my brain meets up with another brain that thoroughly stimulates it...I *cream* myself.

One of the brains that have never failed to get me hot and flustered happen to belong to a certain Alan Moore, the writer. His latest 3-part graphic novel series for adults has got me positively *squirming* while I'm typing this right now. The title is "Lost Girls" here's what it's about:

"As named above, Lost Girls is, without any shadow of a doubt, pornography. Within its pages, Alice, from Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, Dorothy, from The Wizard of Oz, and Wendy from Peter Pan meet, recount their intimate backgrounds in graphic detail, and have many sexual adventures together. There is virtually a graphically depicted sexual act on every page.
But, as with every work by Moore, Lost Girls is more than its surface appearance. It's a challenge to readers and to critics. It's eye opening. It's a history lesson of classic erotica. It's tender at moments, heartbreakingly lovely at others, while virtually every reader will find some page that makes them uncomfortable. It's undeniably breathtakingly beautiful. It's Moore and Gebbie's plea for more works like this - more works that engage the sexual imagination."

And here's why I want to do naughty and explicit things to Alan Moore's brain: in an interview regarding what motivated him to create "Lost Girls", this is what he said... “The sexual imagination, which is the biggest part of sexuality, is not well served in our culture, and I really don't understand why that should be. The only way that we can talk about or refer to sex - we have two choices: we can either do it in grubby works of pornography that will be
read by people who are desperately ashamed of what they are reading, or we can discuss sex in the clinical manner of sex manuals or The Joy of Sex. Neither of these things have got anything that I, or probably most other normal people actually associate with our sexuality. I doubt that many of us are clinical about our sexuality, or wish to be sleazy about our sexuality either, but these seem to be the only two options where this material can even be discussed - where the sexual imagination can even be talked about. That startling omission in culture was probably the biggest impetus behind Lost Girls - we felt that there ought to be something like that that related to sex that was as beautifully illustrated and as beautifully written as one might expect from any other genre. Any other piece of literature or art.

Because there wasn't anything like that out there, we spent fifteen or sixteen years making sure that there was.” Quite a tantilising and groovy developement on some of the ideas I mentioned in the previous post...

I can't take it anymore!!!! The agony of typing that out while my *other* lips are salivating all over my chair!!! This post ends here and now! I'm off to masturbate! (What a weird, rather unattractive word...semantic reinforcement of social stigmas. Fuck that.) Playtime calls...

P.S. Article here: http://www.newsarama.com/TopShelf/LostGirls/MooreLG_01.html