Girl here, resident sex fiend

But unlike the housemates on television, I shall not be announcing what state of horniness I am in: this is a family blog after all and I have no wish to corrupt any readers with tales of my sordidness. I’ll leave that to the far more qualified and sexy Mike, NML and Peter. Plus, I am still paying off the fine for indecent exposure in the blogosphere and cannot risk any further police cautions. (I promise I’ll behave M’Lud, there’s no need to investigate those other false accusations against me).

I feel I should warn the other blogmates that I do not discriminate between men and women, gay and straight: all are potential conquests in my eyes – so I will flirt with all of you equally. Do not be surprised if I wake you in the middle of the night whispering sweet nothings into your ear. Actually do be surprised: my conversations tend to focus on an area much lower down.

Given my reputation, I was hoping to make a good impression on the other blogmates when I entered the house. But I fear I just reinforced their cynicism about me: it started with me falling out of the limousine onto the tarmac, and ended with me trying to hide the huge rip in my dress as I opened the front door. I heard that the other blogmates said I tore my dress on purpose, with the objective of showing more of my trim and toned thighs, but I hope that’s just a vicious rumour. Just because I had to remove said dress and replace it with a skimpy pair of hot-pants doesn’t mean I am an attention seeker. The fact that the hot-pants show off my superb arse is irrelevant.

Anyway, rather than use this space to describe myself any further, I thought it would be better to find someone else to do that for me. Or more precisely, copy and paste some extracts from a French translation of my blog. For your convenience, I have retranslated it back into English via the superbly and totally accurate Google tool; I think the following clearly and expertly sums up what I am about and what I have to offer the house:

“It is that for people as me - lazy wankers - to have a vibro is like balancing oil on a fire: that does nothing but increase the idleness by feeding the fire which brule in me”

“All that that requires they are two piles, insertion in a wet she-cat and five minutes to be pressed against him”

“If I do not arrive there, to buy a small trunk, to lock up it inside and give the key to a friend of confidence, somebody who will not authorize me to give the hand above before I do not beseech it with knees”

In summary then: there’ll be no oily, wet she-cats on their knees. Or, if there are, I won’t be one of them. I’ll be far too busy watching the other blogmates getting busy in the outdoor showers. And possibly taking pictures.

The prize I have chosen to bring with, is a lucky dip of various condoms that I have spent time, energy and hard-earned dosh (apart from the free NHS ones that is) collecting. This prize has the advantage of fulfilling a variety of uses:

1. Balloons for when we need to party away the boredom and mundanity of the house.
2. Water bombs to throw at each other whilst we sleep away the slow summer days in the garden.
3. Prophylactics for the hot nights spent shagging.

I am not suggesting us blogmates get naked with each other: I think we can find other ways of entertaining ourselves and the readers without stooping to such levels. However, if others decide to explore this particular sordid pastime, I feel I should state that I am most certainly not that type of girl and would never do such a thing in front of so many observers.

But, if pressed, I wouldn’t say no, and will watch if invited.

As long as I can have a nice cup of tea afterwards that is. Anyone else for a cuppa?