Wicked Wednesday… Growing Older

rainbowcircle1-150“It starts on the day we are born – we grow older. For roughly the the first twenty years of our lives we never think about our age. Maybe some people don’t think about it for the first thirty years. But there comes a time when you do think about growing older. Are you at that point yet? How long have you thought about getting older? How old are you? Do you regret getting older? Why or why not? Come on, talk to us about age, your age! Or, write a sexy story about growing older…”

I am certainly feeling my age these days – but hey, ageing beats the alternative, right?



Copyright, 2016, illicitthoughts.wordpress.com

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Funny Fanny

My new nickname from the OH is Funny Fanny…

Yesterday I finally got to attend my specialist appointment that I had been waiting a year for. After the examination the doctor casually mentioned, “Well, you have a retroverted uterus…”

Whoa! Hold up Dr! A what now?!

Apparently about 25% of women have this and it is not necessarily an issue in terms of well being. It simply means that my little womb tilts backwards, towards my spine rather that towards my tummy as with the majority of women.


This morning, as he made me coffee, the OH turned to me and said, “So, I guess I’ll be calling you Funny Fanny from now on then?”

We both laughed at the idea that my quirks and my tendency to be a little ‘different’ extend to my innards!

I just checked something with him and he asked who I am telling this too. I replied I am blogging it which earned me a “really?” look and a slow shake of his head…

Hey! What can I say, I am an over-sharer!    😂


Copyright, 2016, illicitthoughts.wordpress.com

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Sinful Sunday… Copping A Feel


My little Bichon Frise, Lily, (AKA The Love Of My Life), likes to cuddle on my chest at night as I watch TV.

It feels blissful, the small but solid weight of her tiny head against me, her soft curls tickling my skin. We often take pictures of her when she does this. (To be honest, we just take a lot of pictures of both dogs!)

One night I looked down an her and realised her little paw had slipped slightly inside my cami top and asked the OH to come over and take photo. I complied some shots of us cuddling and decided to submit them as a lighthearted SinfulSunday.

The picture of her feeling me up made us both laugh… especially the final one where her eyes are slightly looking at him as he snaps the phone camera, as if to say, “What? I’m just lying here…”


And in case you’re wondering what the other pup gets up to at night…


She just lets it all hang out!


See who else is being Sinful!

Copyright, 2015, illicitthoughts.wordpress.com

All rights reserved.

Kat Gets Hot Under The Collar…

The OH and I needed to buy dog food for Poppy, (AKA The Destroyer), so we went to the big discount pet store nearby.

Picture a warehouse full of pet supplies; cold, concrete floor, very basic…

We wander about, checking out new toys and nibbles for the dogs. He is carrying an enormous bag of kibble and is absorbed in picking out tasty treats for the pooches. I see a row of collars and leads and have a rummage around. There is a rather lovely leather collar, black with a flared tip and a cute buckle, which gives me an idea…


Glancing over and seeing that he hasn’t spotted me, I quickly wrap the collar around my neck to see if it fits. It does! So what do I do? Yep… buckle the collar.

“Psst! Psst!” I loudly whisper across to him, conscious that the store assistant is just at the other side of the aisle and could come around and see me wearing a collar designed for a terrier at any moment. He looks over and sees me, a wide grin spreading over his face as he shakes his head in an, “Oh my god, what is she like?” sort of way.

He comes over and inspects my collared throat, says, “I love it! Buy it!” I try to unbuckle it… it refuses to budge. He laughs, thinking I’m playing until he sees the impending panic on my face and realises that I’m not faking. My anxiety makes me breathe faster which doesn’t help my struggle. He bursts out laughing, not in a cruel way, but simply tickled by my natural eejitry. He tries to help and finds the leather is inflexible, his fingers are too big and we stop and look into each other’s eyes thinking, “Fuck! She’s/I’m stuck!” Starting to get mildly hysterical, stifling my giggles, I mouth, “Get me out of this!” and he tries again… eventually freeing me. We collapse laughing, holding each other for support and throw the collar back on the rack… that is NOT coming home with me!

I ask him to take a quick photo of the offending strip of leather so I can share my near miss with you guys.

(We went to a toy store next, in search of a gift for my Godson, and he once again had to observe his Little Girl get very over excited at the display of outdoor toys. I pouted as I asked for my own swing set, he cuddled me close, kissed my forehead and said he’d build me one… I’m still waiting.)

Copyright, 2015, illicitthoughts.wordpress.com

All rights reserved.

Breaking News! Painslut Can’t Handle Pain!

I think I might have to disown my best friend and soul sister, Felicity.

She deceived me!

Allow me to share the story…

Several weeks ago she excitedly Skyped me to say she had purchased an epilator. She was beside herself with anticipation of using it. I warned her that it might be painful… I have waxed before so I thought, (note that thought, it’ll be important later,) I had some experience of the matter.

She used the torture device, sorry, epilator on her legs and underarms and was delighted at the results. She said the pain was “really not that bad at all” and urged me to buy one, “Kat you’d fucking love this! I know you will! I have movie star legs!”

I asked the Big Question… you know IT…

She had not yet used the device “down below” and was trepidatious about it. I talked her through what waxing there entailed; virgin follicles, slight bleeding, chicken skin. (Yes boys! This is what we do to keep it all pretty!) She told me to stop with the teasing and yet again urged me to buy one. I decided to wait and see how she faired with the old lady garden before I committed to anything.

Fast forward and Feli Sykpes me that, “I did it!” So of course I want all the details. Again, not too bad at all. Certainly nothing like she had feared, “You’re a pain-slut Kat, it’ll be a walk in the park for you!”

So, trusting my bestie, I went online and found a top of the range, state of the art epilator with all the attachments a girl could wish for, it is cordless, can be used wet and dry, and it even has a little spotlight to see what you’re doing!

I paid my €165 and waited.

The OH collected it from the store and brought it home to me. We opened the box and I turned it on. We both leapt about a foot in the air and I was very close to dropping it.

This thing was fucking terrifying!

Its little steel jaws spun at an alarming speed and the sound was nothing less that bone-chilling. He fell about laughing pointing to all the bits I had intended on using it on, (he’s sweet that way). I asked could I try it on his arm… seeing as I am a lady and do not have hairy arms. He said it was fine and teased me for being a wuss. It was a warm evening, so he was wearing shorts. He turned away form me and like a flash I swept the epi along his substantially hairy calves and he did a very impressive Riverdance routine in the kitchen.

So… days went by. I am normally VERY neat… think mannequin yes? So I had to wait a while to use the epi. I read the instructions and they suggested for first timers using it in a hot bath… opens the pores don’t ya know?

I decided about an hour ago that it was time to go for it.

I ran a hot bath and settled in. Thinking I’d start with my underarms I soaked awhile and then sat up, stretched my arm back and applied the epi…

And almost passed out! Not that bad? Not that bad?! Are you kiddin me?

I have waxed my own, well everything, for a very long time and let me tell you! It takes something to apply wax to your most scared little area and rip it off again, but this was torture. I closed my eyes and gave my self a talking to, “Come one Kat you can do this!” Applied it again and kept rolling it over and over until I really couldn’t take anymore. I hopped out of the bath and looked in the mirror to see a very red and patchy underarm. Not a good result.

But hey! This is me people! I won’t stop now.

Back into the warm water and on to the legs. Now, this wasn’t too bad at first until I realised it really wasn’t so much pulling the hairs out as breaking them off so I am now the proud owner of two red legs that resemble plucked chicken skin but with stubble. (You all want to ravish me now don’t you?!)

That one area left undone remained. I looked down at her; she looked back up at me. I had to at least try it. Kneeling up in the bath I had a go… not too bad at the very edges but once I ventured lower and further in, sitting legs akimbo on the edge of the bath, (there’s a sweet image for you all), sweat running down my face, I thought “Fuck this! Enough!”

Now, maybe my technique was off, I don’t know. I can tell, you in the bedroom, or several other rooms in the house, I love pain. I relish pain. I beg for more and have not yet been forced to use any safe word, but this is not an experience I am eager to revisit.

Oh! I am not allowed use deodorant for 24 hours so that’ll be fun. The OH is taking tomorrow as holidays and there was me thinking I’d get myself all sparkly and smooth and irresistible. What will he get? A red, chicken skinned, stubbly, sweaty wife who, if he so much as tries to touch THERE will be risking his own balls.

So… I’m stuck with this epilator from hell and sore everything… but Feli?

Hats off to ya girl! You are one tough chick you know!

Can you fly over and maybe hold me down so I can actually use this blasted thing?!


note: I wrote this post on Thursday… Hence the OH time off!

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